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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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sscarletvenus · 1 year ago

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please stop scrolling for a moment and read.

this happened on wednesday in occupied jerusalem, supposedly the "only democracy in middle east."

israeli police raided the anti-zionist jewish neighborhood, to attack any symbol of jewish solidarity with Palestine, took down the Palestinian flag, brutally assaulted anti-zionist jews by knocking them down on the road, hitting them, and punching them in the face.

zionism is a violent and fascist ideology that doesn't even spare the very people it is supposed to protect. anyone who disagrees with its racist mandate, even jews, are targeted by the entity that falsely claims to represent jewish people.

if they can do this to their own, can you even bear to imagine how they have treated, and continue to treat, Palestinians? except you don't really have to - idf soldiers have, on multiple occasions, documented their own war crimes and violations of the very nature of being human. they have gloated over their own capacity to commit undeniable evil too many times on camera.

does amy schumer care about these people standing up against genocide and getting persecuted for doing so? what does noah schnapp have to say?

what do well-off white jews in the west who record tiktoks with a face full of makeup, impeccably manicured nails, curated fits and ring lights, who have monopolized claims to antisemitism and grief and victimhood while black and other non-white jewish people have been rendered almost entirely invisible from public memory, have to say about this?

israel was never about judaism.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #gaza strip #gaza genocide #gaza under attack #anti zionisim #anti israel

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thinkinonsense · 2 months ago

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DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

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pascalispretty · 4 months ago

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each man's mad desire

General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Marcus Acacius is a conqueror. You invite him to conquer you.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: marcus fucks a nymph, predator/prey, knifeplay, blood, thigh riding, rough sex, sorta consensual-non-consent? Reader very explicitly wants him and invites him to hunt her down. Marcus has an unfashionably huge dick.

A/N: I swore I wasn't going to write for another character from an unreleased film, yet here we are. I loved studying Classics, so there are easter eggs within for those familiar with mythology. "Nymph" is more Greek than Roman, but it's also the better-known version of the word. Barcinus is a completely made-up cognomen for him (from the Latin name for Barcelona). Ichor is a Greek concept, but too delicious not to borrow here. Big dicks really were considered unattractive - it was a sign of barbarism to have a big penis. Title from Book IX of The Aeneid. Painting is 'The Charmer' by John William Waterhouse. (ao3)

The battle is won, the men are settled, and General Marcus Acacius is restless. He wears the efforts of the day in the blood and grime and sand coating his skin, the ache in his muscles. The city is retaken. The barbarians have been slaughtered or captured. He knows he should rest.

And yet, he wanders.

The camp is close by the beach. As he walks, the sound of the army behind him fades away, drowned out by the sound of the sea. The inviting aroma of the campfires and roasting meat is replaced by the smell of salt. There are sentries out here, somewhere in the night. He pays them no mind; he wishes to be alone. Grass turns to sand underfoot and still Acacius walks on. At the edge of the sea, he pauses briefly.

Across the Great Sea, to the east, stands Rome. It’s veiled by darkness and distance, but he turns to look for it anyway. He misses it the way a loyal son misses a beloved father. Word of a great victory will travel before him, the whispers moving faster than any army can.

When he returns home, he hopes he will be warmly welcomed. Those seeking to ride his skirts into Imperial favour will doubtless fall over themselves to praise him, at least. They will preen and flatter, and he will nod humbly and thank them.

“The Gods were with me.” It is always his answer, when asked of his victories. It is a clean answer. Men praise him for his piety; they do not imagine the lives he has sacrificed, the atrocities he has committed, the horrors of sacking a city. The Gods were with him; he does not have to speak of loosing his men like feral dogs upon innocents, of slaughtering barbarian sons so they cannot grow up to seek their vengeance on Rome.

Acacius turns and walks down the beach, leaving the camp behind him. The silvery light of the stars and moon light his path along the coast. He simply enjoys being away from all others, the crash of the waves and his own footsteps the only noise he can hear. The ground to his right begins to rise, soft grass yielding to rock. He has no sense of how long he has walked for when the beach before him suddenly ends. The shoreline curves sharply inward, creating a rocky inlet.

He has no desire to turn back now. Perhaps the path reemerges on the other side. He follows the curve of the stone inward. Ahead, he can see the path sloping down towards the waterline, leading towards the dark mouth of a cave. The tide is coming in; the water at the entrance to the grotto must be at least knee-deep.

Acacius is turning to leave when he notices her.

The inlet in the rock forms a pool at the entrance to the cave. Even in the silvery moonlight, the water looks beautiful and clear. It should not surprise him that a maiden might come to bathe there, away from prying eyes.

For it is a maiden that stops him in his tracks, fixes his boots to the stone. Her back is turned to him; she is perched atop a rock, her bare feet dangling in the saltwater of the pool. Now that he is aware of her, he thinks he hears her singing over the sounds of the waves, a melody he does not recognise.

An honourable man would depart. Acacius can only see her back, but she must be noble. Her dress is so white it is almost blinding, even in the starlight. Her feet are bare, but he spies a pair of finely-wrought sandals on the rocks beside her. Certainly a noble lady then.

His mind is made up to leave.

And at that very moment, she turns.

***

You had not expected to be discovered. Perhaps you might have toyed with him if you had. You could have disguised yourself as a maiden in need of assistance, a princess cast ashore by a shipwreck. There are endless amusements to be found among the mortals.

Yet he has stumbled upon your grotto quite by accident, and from your first glimpse, he intrigues you.

Marcus Acacius Barcinus.

Something whispers his name to you; you know it as soon as you see him, just as you know he has dark hair threaded with grey. You allow a smile to play on your lips.

To his credit, this man does not move. Confronted with something so nakedly celestial, other men have lost their minds. What is it for a man to look upon the face of the divine? They do not always survive it. This one seems strong. He may yet survive you.

“Hail, noble General,” you start, turning in your seat on the rock so you may face him more directly. He is a handsome one. His lovely dark eyes drink you in from head to toe.

“You know me?” He manages after a moment. Not mad then, not yet anyway. You laugh, and he seems startled by the sound.

“I do.” Sliding off the rock you step into the water, your stola clinging to your skin. “General Marcus Acacius Barcinus, son of Gaius Acacius. Your piety is known.” He is always attentive with his sacrifices. You can smell the burning flesh and spilled wine dedicated to the heavens from here, in honour of his latest victory.

You take a few steps towards him. He’s still atop the rocky crest, almost looking down on you. You near the base of the slope, your skirts drying the moment they leave the water, and halt again. The mouth of the grotto is to your back; you can hear the lap of the waves echoing against the rocky walls.

“And which noble goddess do I have the honour of addressing?” He asks. You have many names, too many to sift through. A mortal wrote you into a poem once; you give him the name the poet gave you.

“I had not thought ever to look upon a nymph before.” There is something in the way he says it; a tone of disbelief colouring his voice. It’s as though he expects to wake up in his tent at any moment. In the dark violet light of twilight, the blood on his skin looks brown and rusty. You can almost taste the iron on the air.

“Are you content merely to look?” You ask him, a sly smile on your lips. You already know he is not. This man is a conqueror, and he is looking at you with all the intensity and desire of a man set upon conquest. He does not speak for a long moment. Perhaps he is afraid of offending you, of saying the wrong thing and finding himself transformed into a pig or sea foam.

You walk a little closer to him, emerging from the water. Closer now, the smell of him drowning out the salt of the sea. He reeks of man, of blood and sweat and such pure vitality you nearly stagger. He’s so breathtakingly alive. If all mortal men are thus, you understand why your sisters seek them out and take them to bed, even bear their children.

“I admire a man who knows how to take what he desires. A conqueror in all things,” you continue, feeling the warmth of his gaze as he watches the sway of your hips. Once you are an arm’s length away from him, you reach out. You cannot help it. He’s such a marvellous specimen of manhood, the kind that ought to be honoured with a kingdom or a divine son or his form traced in the stars.

He does not stop you when you rest your palm against the leather of his cuirass. It’s warm to the touch, whether from the heat of his body or a day of the sun beating down upon it. The black leather has a gilded woman’s face across the front; Minerva perhaps. It gives you pause. If he values Minerva and her strategies above Mars and his frenzy, he may not enjoy your games.

Nevertheless, you will not let the tastes of mortal men unnerve you. He watches you as you undo the knot at one shoulder, and wordlessly reaches to help you. Together, the two of you free him from his heavy armour. As he sets it down gently against the rock, you nearly choke on him. You can hear the thrum of his heart, smell the salt of his sweat, the iron in his blood.

You have never starved. Yet this conqueror of men is like being blessed with a feast and realising for the first time that you have been dying of hunger all your life. Freed from his heavy leathers, you step so closely to him that your glimmering white dress brushes against his filthy red tunic. You reach out to cup his jaw, enjoying the way his skin feels to your touch.

He swallows thickly, his lovely eyes searching your face.

“I want you.” He says it simply, though you know it must have taken courage. Men have died for such insults before. You let a smile curl around your lips.

“Mars himself had my maidenhead. I do not submit easily to the advances of men.” Standing on tiptoe, you lean in until your lips nearly touch the shell of his ear. “If you want me, you will have to take me.”

It’s all the prompting you give him before you turn and run.

You run down the beach, back the way he came. You have more powerful kin who could outrun him with ease, if they chose. Minerva could be a continent away in moments, if she chose. You do not have their same powers; you might be fleeter of foot than a mortal woman, but you cannot transform yourself into a swan and fly back to the heavens.

Behind you, you hear Acacius’ feet pounding against the sand. The noise blurs with the roar of his heartbeat, thumping harder as he chases you. You run faster, pulling your skirts up with one hand so they cannot tangle around your legs. It has been far too long since you felt this exhilarated. Off in the distance, you can see the lights of his camp, the torches and bonfires burning brightly in the twilight.

You lose yourself to the chase, paying the distance no mind as you race down the beach. Sand flies up beneath your bare feet, gritty under your toes as you run. Something in you wants to turn around, to see if the handsome general is still close behind you. You can hear him well enough to know he is behind you, but not well enough to gauge the distance.

You don’t look. You only run.

Even though you had invited the hunt, desperately hoping to be caught, the hand that catches your waist surprises you. He seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the sand, pinning you beneath his muscular bulk. The feeling of being trapped sends a perverse thrill racing through you, something warm stirring in your belly.

Though he has caught you, you do not give in so easily.

You thrash underneath him, trying to throw him off you. Acacius is unyielding. His large hands grip your arms; his knees squeeze at your sides. You get one arm free and bring it up. You’re not sure what you intend to do; you don’t want to break him. Scratch him, perhaps? You never get the chance to find out.

Before you see him move, he seizes your arm and pins your wrist beneath his foot. One hand flies to your throat; the other draws a dagger from its sheath and holds the point against the swell of your breast.

For a long moment, you cannot breathe. The large hand at your throat squeezes just enough to threaten a loss of air. The foot on your wrist makes the delicate bones there grind together on just the right side of pleasure-pain. And oh, the blade at your heart. The tip pierces your skin and you don’t know whether to scream or cry or vomit from the shock.

You have never been so still in your life.

When has anything mortal ever pierced your skin? When has anything mortal managed to cut through the skin of your kith and kin? You have vague memories; bandaging Mars’ side after the great spearman Diomedes struck him outside Ilium. You watch in horror and awe as a bead of ichor seeps from the pinprick wound. Mars has made you bleed before, but you never thought a mortal might draw your glittering, golden blood.

You look up at him, your conqueror. He is panting hard, but his face shows no exhaustion; only determination. His eyes are nearly black with desire, and his lovely black and grey curls are damp with sweat. Gods, you want him. You want him to hunt you down as he would a deer, to throw you down and take you like some common mortal whore.

Watching you closely, Acacius eases his grip on your throat. A man used to gauging the weakness of his enemies has seen right through you in turn. He knows you do not need air to breathe. He knows he has done something astounding in the knife at your breast. He holds it steady as he reaches beneath the skirts of his tunic, pulling at the strings of his underthings. He pulls it free with a grunt and discards it beside you in the sand.

Free from its confinement, his manhood pushes against the skirt of his tunic. Something low in your belly twists in anticipation, slick coating the insides of your thighs. Your blood feels as though it’s boiling beneath your skin as Acacius grips the fine cloth of your stola in one filthy hand.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes upon,” he tells you, in all sincerity. You tremble underneath him as he pushes your skirts up around your waist, another bead of ichor welling up around the tip of the blade.

You gasp as the metal shifts, and his eyes flick to your face. Almost lovingly, his hand wraps around your throat again.

“Do you yield?” When no reply is immediately forthcoming, he presses his advantage. The hand at your throat and foot at your wrist push harder; more glittering blood beads at your breast. The surface tension finally breaks, sending the blood dripping down towards your neck.

“I yield.” In an instant, he relaxes his hold. The foot on your wrist disappears, as does the blade. The hand on your throat remains, tipping your head up so he can kiss you. He kisses like his master, Mars; hard and demanding. You return the kiss with bruising intensity, nipping at his lower lip. It seems only fair that you make him bleed a little, in turn.

His beard prickles against your skin, and you answer it by sliding your hand into his curls and pulling roughly. Acacius groans against your mouth, crushing himself closer to you and forcing your legs apart with his knee. His muscular thigh presses against your bare cunt, the pressure sending liquid fire dancing through your body. You rut up against his thigh eagerly, your slick smearing against his skin.

Acacius notices your movements, breaking off the kiss to stare at you. The raw lust in his eyes makes you keep going, rocking your hips desperately against him. His thigh flexes between your legs, and you groan loudly. Without taking his eyes off you, his hand drifts to cup your breast, tantalisingly close to the tiny wound on your unblemished skin.

“Are you going to stab me again, slayer of men?” You ask him, tauntingly. You wouldn’t mind if he did.

“No, dear mistress. I’ll watch you debase yourself on my thigh.” Oh, you want to keep him. Your sisters have kept mortals before; you remember well the fuss around sweet Hylas, cunning Ulysses. Your conqueror finds your nipple through the fine material of your dress, the flesh stiffening beneath his fingers as he toys with you.

Your hips roll easier, faster as you sink deeper into your pleasure. Every glide becomes slicker as you soak his skin. It’s been some time since you’ve so blatantly sought your own pleasure, and you welcome it back eagerly. That familiar tension is coiling tightly in your belly and sends you spiralling higher with every movement.

Acacius watches you with fascination. His own pleasure is forgotten for the moment, though you suppose he is enjoying this. Something divine rubbing against him like a cat in heat; no man alive would believe him if he told them. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps and you clutch at Acacius’ wrist to ground yourself. He’s so solid and warm to your touch; his vitality is unlike any aphrodisiac you have ever known.

It’s not long before you come with a cry, your nails digging into Acacius’ skin as you shudder against him. The fire in your belly burns through you, the heat of it radiating out to your fingertips. It leaves you boneless beneath your conqueror. He seizes the advantage, pulling your legs wider apart to slot his other leg between them.

You struggle. Why not? It amuses you to make him manhandle you into place. He pulls your legs wider with one hand. With the thumb of the hand at your breast, he presses just below the cut. The burst of pain makes you hiss. Cowed, you let him pull your legs apart, his eyes feasting on your cunt. You must look a mess, swollen and soaked.

Acacius lets go of your leg and pulls up the hem of his tunic. He’s big, unfashionably so for his countrymen. Beads of fluid leak from the reddened tip, and he swipes them away with his thumb. He settles himself between your thighs, and you gasp when he notches the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Without warning or reprieve, he forces his cock inside you.

You throw your head back against the sand, stars exploding against your closed eyelids as you dance along the knife edge of pleasure and pain. A deep groan rumbles out of Acacius’ throat as he presses deeper, working against your tight muscles to seat himself within you. He’s unrelenting, his length thick and twitching as it fills you.

There’s no other word for it; you wail up at the star-strewn sky, pleasure flooding through you. Your body feels too small to contain the fire being stoked inside you, deep in your core. You pull at Acacius, nails clawing, dragging him down to kiss you. His lips meet yours in a messy crash, all tongues and teeth as he finally seats himself fully within you.

He barely allows you a moment to adjust. He retreats almost fully, his cock nearly leaving you completely, before sliding back in with one fluid stroke of his hips. You’re shaken by how willingly your body accepts him, colouring any pain with so much pleasure you barely notice the discomfort. His hand finds your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

Acacius’ incursions become sharper, harder, as he finds his rhythm. Your hands slide under the hem of his tunic to clutch at his back, your nails leaving behind tiny red crescents in his skin. Every breath you take is shared by him, your mouths so close together you can taste the wine lingering on his tongue. The two of you move together, your moans melting into one another as you fuck like animals in the sand.

It doesn’t take him long to send you over the edge again. Bliss wipes all words from your mind; you can only lie there and let your release crash over you. The ichor in your veins feels like it’s singing. Acacius looks down on you in awe, and it only drives you higher. You want to keep him. The Heroic Age is too far past; the world is lacking for heroes. Perhaps you and Acacius can make a few; handsome, strong boys, half-god children who reflect their father’s divine favour.

“Would you give me sons, Acacius?” You ask, breathless at his onslaught. Your foreheads are pressed together still; you cannot see the look on his face. He groans sharply, his hands clutch tighter at you. Is that a yes? What greater blessing to a pious man than a son born to a goddess.

He certainly shows no signs of stopping. He fucks you with the same vigour he fights with. You feel like you’re floating, high above your own body, lost completely to pleasure. Jupiter himself could command you to stop, and you’d be unable to obey. You grow restless beneath him. His hand has slackened around your throat, so you lean down to lick a line across his neck. The taste of salt and iron explodes across your tongue, so delicious that you have to force yourself not to sink your teeth in.

Acacius grunts above you, forcing you back down against the sand. His hips are stuttering; a sign that he’s close to his own release. You want to cry, want to prolong this as much as possible, but you know he has limits. Your sisters have pushed mortal men too far before; you will not make the same mistake, not with so delicious a playmate.

Instead you spur him on. Your nails dig harder into his back, making him groan sharply. His short, desperate thrusts make your eyes roll back into your skull as he touches something deep and private within you, unknown to anyone else.

“I- I must-” He starts, words failing him as he chases his release. You pepper his face with kisses, nip at his kiss-swollen lips.

“You must,” you agree. “I want you to fill me up.” You’re both breathless, barely any air between your bodies to breathe. One of your hands slides into his curls, pulling at them. You guide his head down until your lips are at his ear again.

“I could give you a son,” you whisper. “But only if you finish inside me. Claim me; mark me as yours. Conquer me.”

He tips over the edge with a loud groan, his hips stuttering as he comes. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as he does, filling you with his seed. Perhaps something might catch; he seems virile enough. You cradle his head against the crook of your neck as he catches his breath, his body heavy as he relaxes on top of you.

“Noble Acacius,” you murmur fondly, stroking his curls. “Marcus. What do you make of your new conquest?” He is quiet for a long moment. The crash of the waves fills the silence, the tide drawing closer. Soon, the two of you will have to move.

“I shall never know another victory like it.”

Taglist:

Tagging some people who might be interested: @iamasaddie (per their request for Acacius filth) @avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse

#general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator 2

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rheya28 · 5 months ago

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Ink Heart Tattoo Shop ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Ink Heart is a small industrial tattoo shop that combines urban edge with a welcoming vibe. The space features graffitied and exposed brick walls, giving it a raw and artistic feel.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

● Hello my lovelies! It's been a while since I last posted a build. I'm still quite busy with school until end of August, so build releases are gunna be inconsistent. I will try my best to upload and will notify you all if anything changes. ● Anyways, for this build I used Cepzid's tattoo mod! I placed this build as a generic lot type, but you can also have it set as a cafe!

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Ink Heart Tattoo Shop Lot type: Generic or Cafe Lot size: 30 x 20 Location: I built this in San Sequoia, but it could be placed anywhere

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Functional Tattoo Chair by Cepzid Creations

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! Joyceisfox ● Simple Live pt [4] S-Imagination ● Nota Living Room [painting] Simlicy ● Sketches Sooky ● Abstract Framed Art Wooden frame Xtc ● Graffiti Pack House of Harlix ● Bafroom ● Baysic ● Harluxe ● Orjanic pt [1][2] Bbygyal123 ● Aesthetic Collection ● Martini FelixAndre ● Berlin pt [3] ● Chataeau pt [2] ● Colonial pt [3] ● Florence pt [4] ● Grove pt [1] ● Soho [all] CharlyPancakes ● M&S Construction pt [1] ● Sleepy Head Collection ● Soak Harrie ● Klean [all] ● Kwatei ● Octave pt [2][3][4] ● Spoons pt [2] ● Jardane ● Livin Rum ● Kichen Lilac Creative ● Jewelry Collection [sign] Little Dica ● Rise & Grind Myshunosun ● Arrie [laptop] ● Gale Dining [rug] Peacemaker ● Creta [Plant] ● Post Modern living [artwork] Pierisim ● Autie Vera ● Calderone ● Combles ● David Apartment pt [1] ● MCM pt [1][3][5] ● Oak House ● Stefan bedroom ● Unfold ● Winter Garden pt [1] ● Wood Land Ranch Mlyssmakescc ● Pufferhead [wall art] Ravasheen ● Art Attach Graffiti Sixam ● Hotel Bedroom [desk] ● Teen room [wall light] The Clutter Cat ● Sunny Sundae pt [3] Syboulette ● Contemporary Haven [wall art] ● East Oak [wall art] Tuds ● 2nd Wave [chair] ● Cross [wall light]

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

#ts4 #sims 4 #thesims4 #sims #thesims #sims 4 cc #simblr #the sims 4 speed build #the sims 4 build #ts4 build #sims 4 cc build #ts4 sceenshots #build #builds #sims 4 build #sims 4 tattoo shop

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heavenbarnes · 7 months ago

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@abcdbleh you little beauty 🫶🏼 this is in the “cellular-device-universe” | p1 p2 p3 p4

you had managed an incredible feat, what with bringing your older bf!simon around to the idea of sex over the air waves.

you’d effectively achieved the impossible.

well, something you’d thought impossible given who he was as a person. some guy, simple guy, practical and not remotely interested in anything he doesn’t think worth his time.

that’s the thing- when it comes to you?

everything is worth his time.

you could tell him that you’d booked an all expenses paid couples trip to the fucking moon and he’d have your bags in the car before you’d even finished speaking.

he likes that look on your face when you’re happy.

you’d imagined that getting him to send you videos whilst he stroked his cock would be difficult, but now your hidden folder is bursting at the seams.

you had no idea how easy it’d be to have him send you photos in just his briefs, tattooed arm barely illuminated by low light as his large hand gripped himself through the fabric.

but here you were.

laid back in your bed, awfully roomy without a hulking great simon to take up three quarters of it, your phone was pressed to your ear.

“what y’mean, love?”

the deep, rolling rumble of his voice would probably do it if you tried hard enough. you could have him read the menu from the local chinese takeout and make do. he just had that effect on you.

“i mean- i want you to touch yourself and talk me through it, si”

you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, a stuttered little exhale and a crackle over the line. he was in the middle of nowhere (far as you were concerned) but he could still find it to keep you satisfied.

simon would never have you settle for less.

the quiet you could hear on his end wasn’t nerves, you knew him well enough to immediately detect- inexperience?

there was very little simon didn’t know how to do in the bedroom but bring any virtual factors (like a cellphone) and he just needed a couple directions.

he needed an order.

“si, i want to get off to your voice, the sound of you touching yourself- i want you to cum and i want to hear about it in excruciating detail”

you could hear how scratchy his military grade blanket was, woollen and likely older than you, being pushed down his body.

no shuffle of clothing, he was already stark naked in his cot. he’d been with rest of the 141 long enough, you just assume they’ve all seen each other in their entireties. sharing rooms, sharing showers.

you can’t think about that kind of thing too long. the implications that come with it.

the sound of simon spitting in his palm drags you out of steam filled visions, kyle asking your boyfriend for help getting his back, johnny watching wide-eyed but waiting for his signal.

anyway- anyways, the sound of his large palm dragging along his cock had you back in the present for good. you could almost picture the way his foreskin would be rolling down the head.

“already s’fuckin hard for you”

“i bet”

a bet that’d make you a billionaire.

you could count on simon for a lot of things but as sure as the sun rises in the east, that man would be hard for you.

you’d say a gentle breeze would do it. he’d say only if you were blowing.

cheek of him.

faint sounds, faint sounds of his hand tugging on himself but you needed more. you needed it fucking filthy and unmistakable across the line that he was doing one thing.

“more spit, si- need to hear it”

and you could, spit mixed with the leaking pre-cum that was running from his head. soon the sound was circling your eardrums as he worked up a steady rhythm.

“been lookin’ at y’little pictures”

deep sigh as he said it, like he was thinking back to you in compromising positions. you could almost see him with his eyes drifting shut, phone between his ear and shoulder whilst both hands preoccupied by his cock and balls.

“can’t hardly wait to get home to you”

as one hand stroked along his length, running his fingers over the head, the other would be cupping his heavy sack as he rolled them both in his palm.

“y’been teasing me, sweet’art”

large feet would be planted on the threadbare mattress, his thighs tensing the more he tugged himself off. you knew he’d be imagining you in his lap, doing all the work for him so he could focus on running his mouth.

“jus’y wait till i get m’hands on you”

your heart was in your throat with every word he said, you’d no doubt he’d stay true to his word. you had visions of him throwing the front door open and telling you to run.

finding you crawling across the bed to duck down the other side but his grip tightening around your ankle before you could get away.

you had to leave that feeling in the pit of your stomach before you got lightheaded but, as usual, simon knew you better.

“what’s goin’ on in that pretty head f’yours? thinkin’ about all the nasty things i’ll do t’you?”

a squeak of a moan slipped out of you, back arching in the bed as simon chuckled down the line. he always knew exactly what he was doing to you.

calculated man, comes with the territory.

“first thing i’m gonna’ do is stuff my cock in’y, got a couple’a loads saved up just f’you”

you couldn’t imagine how, all the filthy videos he’d been sending you. thick load after thick load spilt over his chest, his thighs, the shower drain.

but, then again, you’ve yet to find a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

“gonna’ keep y’in that fuckin’ bed till y’begging f’mercy”

you could hear it on his voice, the strain that was behind it. he was close, closer than ever but you couldn’t stop him once you got him going.

whenever he was on that precipice of bliss, the things that’d come out of his mouth could turn you inside out.

“gonna’ cum f’you, sweet’art- need you to-“

the blood was rushing so hard in your ears you nearly missed his words as they tapered off into broken moans. nearly missed.

“what d’you need, si? tell me, whatever you need it’s yours”

distant filthy sounds of a wet palm sliding along his cock was ever present in the background of the call. a long sigh drifted from his lips as he spoke.

“tell me t’cum, please”

jesus fucking christ.

there’s no coming back from the sound of simon riley begging.

“cum f’me, simon- need to hear you- make a mess f’me, baby”

the sound that left his chest was filthy, a deep groan intertwined with the sounds of cheap mattress springs. breathy stuttered moans broke through, your name a constant on the tip of his tongue.

he sounded desperate, no doubt still stroking himself even as his hips lifted off the cot. he wasn’t about making it easy on himself.

everything he did was for you.

listening as he rode it out, you could hear him still muttering between the other debauched sounds.

“fuckin’ take it, s’fuckin’ good f’me”

anther broken cry of your name only confirmed it. in simon’s eyes, he wasn’t pumping his cum across in his chest, he was pumping you full of it.

he’d gone too long without the feeling of you wrapped tight around him, only knowing the rough drag of his palm. he’d give anything to be in his bed, buried to the fucking hip in you.

simon’s breathing evened out, broad chest rising and falling with a sticky sheen across it. you could even make out the sound of his head hitting the pillow.

“fucking ‘ell, sweet’art- how was that?”

nothing if not an overachiever.

“perfect, si- you did absolutely perfect”

if he was with you he’d been keening into your touch, a soft side of him that only you were allowed to see.

softening further in his afterglow, you wrapped up with praises and promises to be waiting for him soon as he got home.

your entire body felt like it could sink through the mattress as you curled into his side of the bed, letting the scent of him overwhelm every part of you.

eyes shutting on their own, you’d nearly hit sleep when your cellphone buzzed on the bedside table. a little bleary eyed, you reached for it in the darkness.

“si sent a photo”

your heart sped up, teeth digging into your lower lip as you slide the message open. your screen went from light to dark in an instant.

thick thighs spread apart, toned barrel chest, tattooed arm, and a slightly scarred chin in the shot. in this light you could see it, so faint but still there, the streaks of cum dripping down the lines of his stomach.

the grip on your phone was so tight you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered in your hands. in the corner of your screen, those three dots were taunting you.

your phone buzzed, you could almost hear it in his voice.

“could really do w’you here to clean me up, sweet dreams sweet’art”

#clinically insane need to be studied unsettling to some inexplicable to others #i need him more than i need air in my lungs #older bf!simon #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley drabble #simon ghost riley drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley blurb

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paperultra · 1 year ago

Text

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

#opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #this one's for the girlies who burn water #look i came into opla thinking i'd be a 100% zoro stan but something abt opla sanji got me all <3 #like bro. who gave u the right to smile like that ;(#so i made a reader who adores him just as much as he adores them :)

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marvelsswansong · 11 months ago

Note

Imagine corio seeing a woman flirt with r he’s so confused cuz he’s used to disgusting men after her only

no but like seriously 🌞👉👈

Corio isn't oblivious to the fact that there is a price for dating someone as beautiful as you. Namely, that others - doesn't matter if they're complete strangers or close working colleagues - will secretly want you, with some of them even being bold enough to try and entice you.

This is all much to his annoyance, as he tries being very public about the fact that you're his. Think constant arm around your waist, aggressive kisses in public, loudly calling you 'darling' from across the room. But that doesn't seem to deter everyone.

Especially not the types of men in the Capitol.

If he's feeling calmer that day, he might just stop at glaring at the man whilst pulling you away by the waist, or knocking the breath of you by suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you fiercely for the crowd of men to see. If he's in a sour mood, or it's been a hard week, you have to be careful to keep an eye on the blonde in case he flies into a fit of rage and his mind starts to scan the room for whatever is sharp and capable of causing damage.

"Sometimes I feel as if I have to babysit you." you would tease after one particularly harsh night, where you and Corio get thrown out of a house party after he smashed another man's face into the wall and then proceeded to twist the man's arm to the point of almost breaking a bone. Granted, the man had been extremely aggressive towards you and making very inappropriate comments, but it'd been rather awkward to see the stranger be carried onto an ambulance whilst the head of the household ordered the both of you out.

Chest heaving and knuckles still bruised from the impact, he'd just kiss you again, his tongue tasting of copper.

"Can't help it. You're too pretty." he whispers, and all your criticisms of him would fly out the window.

But Coriolanus is always less guarded when it's a woman around you. After all, you have so many best friends who are women, you spend so much time around grandma'am and Tigirs, and so on. He just associates women being around you with platonic love and comfort.

So when you leave him to go get some drinks at the bar, a fancy upper east side bar you've been begging to go to, he's too busy searching the room for potential men who approach you to notice the red haired woman beelining towards you. She bumps into you 'on accident', pink champagne spilling over the tip of the glass just a bit - a light splash on your jeans, but nothing too bad.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." she quickly says, grabbing a nearby napkin to hand it off to you. Coriolanus watches the interaction from the back of the club, the specifics of your conversation with her unintelligble over the loud music, but he doesn't think anything much of it. Even when the auburn haired woman's fingers brush against yours whilst exchanging the napkin.

He watches as you smile politely at her, probably telling her that it's okay, before turning around to the bartender to make an order. The woman next to you continues to talk to you through out the exchange, which again doesn't raise any red flags to Corio.

After all, women are very friendly by nature. It's normal that someone, especially a stranger who feels bad for spilling a drink on you, wants to continue to talk to you.

You don't think much of it either on your end, other than thinking that she - Clara, she tells you her name after a soft giggle - is very nice.

It's only when the drinks arrive and the woman stops you, lightly sitting you back down and brushing away the hair from your eyes, that Coriolanus starts feeling rather odd. The sudden wide eyes on your face and the red haired woman's smirk, before she slides you a piece of paper from her back pocket and lets you go, raises a lot of questions in his mind.

His top options? Something along the lines of bribery or illegal drugs. Or maybe she's using you to get something from him. Or maybe she wants something from your family.

What he doesn't expect, is for you to come back totally speechless, fingers deftly hanging onto the small piece of paper. You look somewhere between embarrassed and shocked, refusing to meet your boyfriend's eyes as you sit down next to him. He frowns at that, patting his lap instead.

Normally, you'd sit on his legs without a second thought. This time though, you hesitate.

"What'd she want? Drugs? Mone-" he growls, only to be cut off by the stranger.

"So you weren't lying. You do have a boyfriend." the red haired woman cuts into the conversation, now sitting on the velvet chair across from you. Coriolanus swears his jaw almost drops when the woman laughs seductively, winking at you whilst uncrossing her legs.

"You can sit on my lap instead, honey."

"I, you- I just-" Coriolanus starts speaking in an attempt to swear or scare her off, but his mind totally blanks.

You've never seen your boyfriend this flustered. His pale complexion breaks into a dark shade of red, his usually stern gaze darting back and forth between you and the woman, his speech stuttered and jumbled. It's YOU who ends up having the composure to let her down gently, holding out the paper with her phone number out towards her and informing her that you love your boyfriend very much and you're not that interested.

She pouts at that, and it makes your boyfriend's jaw clench so hard his face aches.

"Aw... alright, darling. But keep the paper. You know, just in case you wanna play."

With a wink and a hair flip, she disappears into the dark crowd of sweaty bodies and loud music. It's only then that your boyfriend snaps into action, taking the paper into his hands and shredding it to pieces.

"She called you darling." he snarls, angry. "Only I get to call you darling."

You just giggle, kissing away his sour expression, before tugging at his sleeves.

"Come on, forget about it. Let's just dance." you say, the alcohol in your veins still making you feel buzzed. He complies, never being able to say no to you, but the entire night, he can't help but hold you very close and glare at everyone who approaches you or even looks at you.

Regardless of their gender.

Now, he has to protect you from everyone, he thinks.

BONUS SCENARIO (later in the night)

You've had one too many drinks and yell into Coriolanus' ear that you really need to go to the bathroom. You clutch your handbag and stumble into the corridor, leaving your boyfriend alone by the bar. A stunning blonde woman slides into the empty seat next to him, glossy lips parting to ask a question.

Thinking she's going to hit on him, he raises his right hand, stopping her on the spot.

"I'm not interested, sorry."

The woman scoffs at that, ordering a tequila shot and almost glaring at him.

"Neither am I, genius. I was just wondering if you knew the name of the cutie who just went to the bathroom."

The moment you come back, he practically drags you out of the bar and hails a cab back to the apartment.

He's had enough of women trying to steal you from him. At least for that night.

a/n: hope you guys like this small type of blurbs too in between major fics hehe

#summer answers asks #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #thg x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #this took so long for me to answer im so sorry nonnie hopefully it is to your liking <3 #1k

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audliminal · 25 days ago

Text

Survivability Bias Pt 3

Masterpost

Content warning: This chapter involves depiction of a train derailment and subsequent fire throughout. There is also brief mention of death. I will be putting a brief summary in the description if you prefer not to read this part.

Danny jolts up from his fitful sleep. He’s intangible and invisible before he’s even fully sitting up and he’s in the air before he registers the loud boom that woke him. Any concerns about his bright transformation are made totally irrelevant by the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Wait, no. Those are real sirens.

In the distance, lights are now accompanying the sirens; flashing as they speed down what looks like main street. It’s pretty clear where they’re going too, from the violent orange glow cascading over the tops of the nearby buildings.

I knew it, Danny thinks, flying towards whatever disaster is unfolding. probably it’s stupid to get involved, when he still knows so little about this place, but- well, old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for the problem to become obvious, and Danny freezes as he struggles to process the scene before him.

The metal carnage is nothing like Danny’s ever seen before; what looks to be a freight train has derailed at the worst possible location, sending its cars careening into the various apartment buildings and stores on the east side of town, and to make matters worse, one of them has clearly crashed straight into the gas station by the freeway, and fire is spreading faster than Danny could have imagined.

Danny can already see two buildings blazing, but he quickly focuses his attention towards the carnage of the train itself. Luckily it’s fairly obvious what direction it was headed, and Danny moves fast, looking for the engine. In ghost form, physical sensations always feel a little more distant but even through that, Danny can feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. Luckily it takes less than a minute to find the engine, but as he approaches it, the presence of death catches in his throat, and he immediately knows it’s a lost cause.

He can’t sense any actual ghosts, though, so instead Danny whips around to stare at the derailed cars. He’s far more used to fighting than he is rescues, but he can hardly just ignore the possibility of people trapped, so he carefully begins phasing through the wreckage, searching and listening for signs of anyone. Already, people are starting to gather outside; both those who were nearby and those who have managed to escape on their own, and Danny is careful to maintain his invisibility as he works.

Danny’s made it through about half the wreck by the time he spots the firetrucks arriving, he’s pretty certain that nobody’s trapped under any of the cars, and he’s also thinking more clearly. The fire has also gotten worse now, and Danny watches as fully equipped firefighters spill out onto the street, already jumping to work as the fire chief shouts out orders. Some rush to start battling the flames, but others head towards the crowd.

They’re getting headcounts, Danny realizes. It seems so obvious in retrospect, but of course, Danny would have to be visible to check with anyone. And now that they’re here, anything he tries to do in secret would probably just make things harder. There is, of course, an easy solution to that, but- Danny has yet to find any evidence that all the meta stuff is anything but propaganda.

Even as Danny considers the dilemma, he knows what he’s going to do. He’s survived danger before, after all, and if he can keep people from assuming ghost, then he’ll have an advantage on them even if it comes to the worst. Besides, there’s that whole great powers-great responsibility thing, so in a way, it’s kind of his responsibility...

Danny floats out of the wreckage before shifting into visibility, figuring it’s probably polite to approach in their field of sight.

“What can I do to help?” Danny asks, causing most of the crowd to stare in shock. Belatedly he realizes he’s still floating, but actually that’s probably a good thing. Makes it clear he’s a meta right off the bat, at least

“New hero, huh? Powerset?” The man responds promptly, leveling Danny with an even gaze. Probably the lack of shock is a good thing. Probably.

“Uh, flight obviously, enhanced strength as well, and um... The ability to turn people and things intangible?” Danny responds promptly. It’s far from his full set, but he figures those are the most relevant, and keeping most of his tricks under his sleeve makes him feel better about what he’s doing.

“Is the fire gonna hurt you? I’m not sending some kid in there to die of third degree burns or smoke inhalation.” The man frowns, giving Danny the distinct feeling he’s not particularly impressed with Danny’s answer.

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’ll be fine! I like, don’t exactly need to breathe? And I’m fine in extreme heat too, so it shouldn’t be a problem...” Danny trails off and the head firefighter narrows his eyes as he tries not to flinch at the assessing look. To Danny’s right, someone shouts and when he turns to look, he sees a firefighter wave their arm and plant some kind of flag before moving on. No longer paying attention to Danny, the chief walks over and speaks to another firefighter. Danny wonders if he’s been dismissed, but before he can do anything, the chief calls out to him.

“Alright kid, you’re up, I guess,” he says, when Danny walks over. “We don’t know how injured he is, so do not move him, but if you’re strong enough to move this stuff fast and safe, that’ll be a damn good help.” He gestures to the twisted mess that Danny’s pretty sure was the edge of a building.

Danny nods, stepping forward to examine the rubble. The firefighter that spotted the man points to a couple beams.

“Those beams are protecting him from the worst of it right now, but we’ll need to move them in order to get him out, so you gotta make sure that there’s nothing that’ll fall on him him when you move them.”

“Righty-o,” Danny says, stepping forward to grab the two support beams he’d pointed too. He carefully examines the rubble collapsed around and over it. It’s sort of like a puzzle, he realizes - not quite the same as fixing his parents tech; certainly nothing here is supposed to be smashed together like that, but-

Danny blinks and refocuses. If he just moves a few things first, he thinks he can get enough cleared away and just intange the beams. He tries to be fast as he does, without forgetting the emphasis the chief had put on safety, and after a few moments, he’s ready to move the beams. He gets into a good position, and then carefully makes them intangible, ready to react if anything bad happens. When nothing does, he carefully pulls them up and away, watching as the waiting firefighters rush in and start to work on actually extracting the guy.

He watches for a bit as a backboard appears and they begin a very slow and careful process of getting the guy onto it.

“Kid,” the chief calls, pulling Danny’s attention away.The chief guides him towards one of the buildings that’s on fire. “Got two people trapped on the third floor here. The stairs are unsafe, so if you can, get yourself up there, locate them, and get them out.”

Danny nods, not waiting for further instruction. He flies up two floors, and goes straight through the wall with his intangibility. The majority of this building isn’t terribly damaged, but one side has collapsed in on itself so if that’s where the stairs were, he can understand the difficulty. The air inside is already thick with smoke, and he quickly stops breathing, belatedly remembering that he’s supposed to not get smoke inhalation. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to catch the sound of voices, and Danny follows it to a room where two people are huddled next to an open window. Right, that’s a smart way to limit the danger of the smoke.

“Rides here!” Danny announces cheerfully, dropping his intangibility. Both people startle as they spot him, but one recovers relatively quickly.

“Him first,” they say, nodding towards their companion, who definitely looks more dazed.

“Right, here we go!” Danny says, stepping forward, and scooping the person up, and wasting no time flying directly through the building, and down to the waiting paramedics. There’s no stretcher currently available, so Danny gently sets them on the ground away from the worst of the smoke, before flying back to get the other person. They’re already standing up, and waste no time in wrapping their arms around his neck as he picks them up and flies them out to the medics as well.

Danny hardly has time to set the person down, before the chief is pulling him away again. They send him in to save a couple other trapped people, but after that, it sounds like everybody is accounted for, because the chief starts focusing all their energy on putting out the fire, rather than just containing it.

Danny is surprised to find himself pulled into helping with this part too. He gets assigned to a fire attack team, and Danny trails along after the two firefighters as the enter the building and begin to fight the fire from the inside.Occasionally, one of them will point at some piece of wall or ceiling and ask him to check what’s on the other side. He goes where they say, looking for signs of the fire, and when he does spot flames, occasionally tearing stuff down so they can get to it with their fire hose. It’s honestly a fascinating process. Danny’s never been anywhere near a major fire and the fact that the firefighters actually do more damage to the building as they work echoes in Danny’s brain as a morbid refrain.

What they’re doing is clearly working though, because he can actually feel the ambient temperature going down as time goes on. He briefly wonders if he should be trying to use his ice powers when one of his teammates complains about how hot it is, but they have protection, and he doesn’t want to risk any more info on him getting out. And anyways, he’s busy enough just doing his job. By the time they leave the building, Danny is exhausted. The interrupted night’s sleep is making itself known, alongside the surprising realization that Danny has actually worked harder tonight than he ever has before.

He lets himself half-collapse against a wall beside one of the fire trucks, once they finish their work putting out the fire. Beside him, his teammates are divesting themselves of their gear. it’s funny, Danny was anxious about revealing himself at first, but this whole night - and Danny belatedly realizes the sun is beginning to drift above the horizon now - he’s not been scared at all. Sure he’s been worried; with people in danger he’s hardly going to feel good, but in the last few hours he’s both worked harder than he has in any of his fights, and he’s done it without feeling terrible. Now, with just everyone accounted for and just about all of them either fine or in the hands of doctors, he feels odd.

It’s not a bad feeling or anything, kind of like when he successfully beats a hard level in a video game, or how he used to feel when he finished science projects in middle school.

Satisfaction, he realizes. And that’s what it is, though it’s far stronger than any version of it that he’s ever felt before. He does have a lot to feel proud of too. He helped, even though he wasn’t sure it was safe to, and he might’ve actually saved somebody’s life tonight.

“You did good, kid.” One of his teammates says, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He startles a bit, feels himself flushing, and then in his embarrassment, he feels himself tumble over into a full blush. It’s always felt more embarrassing blushing in his ghost form. The way his skin actually glows with the green tinge is just so obviously inhuman, and he tries to avoid, tries his best to seem normal and alive, even when he’s a ghost.

Of course, these people don’t know he’s a ghost, but from what he’s seen, most of the heroes out there at least look functionally human, and he waits for the firefighters around him to freak out at the reminder that he isn’t even remotely one of them.

“Damn,” one whistles. Green glow is a new one. Makes your freckles real cute though.” The others laugh, and the other of his teammates steps forward to pat him gently on the back.

“Stop embarrassing my new favorite hero,” the chief says, walking up to join them. “You gotta name?”

“Oh, yeah!” Danny answers, desperate for a distraction from this line of conversation. “I’m Danny!”

“Danny,” the chief responds flatly. he almost sounds exasperated, though Danny can’t imagine why, unless...

Unless that absolutely sounds like he just introduced himself normal and they think he’s a hero and he sounds like a dumbass without a secret identity, which- technically isn’t exactly wrong.

“Yup!” Danny says, trying to make it sound intentional. “Danny Phantom at your service! Y’know cause of the intangibility and like. It just sounded good?” There. That sounds plausible. If he actually does end up having to be a hero, though, he’ll probably need a different first name. If he gets a civilian identity, that is.

“Well, Phantom,” the chief grins, that same assessing look from before back, but noticeably more relaxed now that there’s no immediate danger. “We’re damn grateful for all your help, and if you need anything you come let us know, alright?”

“Yeah, one of his teammates echoes. “You’re an honorary firefighter now, you should come hang out at the station sometime!” A couple of the others echo the sentiment. It’s surprisingly kind, and Danny smiles at the unrelenting wave of welcome.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers uncertainly. “For now, I think I ought to go back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Danny,” the chief says. “Just make sure to get something to eat first. You’ve burned a lot of calories today.”

“Yeah, will do,” Danny offers an awkward salute to the man, and then, before he can actually fall asleep standing up, he takes off to hunt down a good spot for a nap.

#dp x dc #woooh! i am actually so fucking proud of this chapter like ahhhhh #of what ive posted so far its probably gone through the most rounds of edits which is pretty typical for my more action-oriented scenes #but also its because it ended up crystallizing a lot of the central themes in this fic for me #from here stuff is gonna get really good i think #train derailment #building fire #death mention tw #feels kind of silly adding that last one to a dp fic but i wanna be careful abt it

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nichmeddar · 3 months ago

Text

max verstappen

lights, camera...cook? (mv1) | pt1

pairing: max verstappen x east asian twitch chef!reader [smau]

summary: max does not know how to cook. luckily, his next-door neighbour and resident internet chef might be able to help him out of his pickle. quite literally.

warnings: none (i think)

wc: social media posts

a/n: im sure his skills have improved since 2017, but max saying that the most impressive thing he can cook is eggs is depressingly funny

-> twitter

-> instagram

chef_yourusername

liked by max verstappen, bestfriend, friend1 and others

chef_yourusername tonight's dish: japanese curry udon 🍜 unfortunately no apollo and artemis for the next few days, they're hanging out at the vet 😿😿😿 (ik they miss their mommy). ALSO TWITCH SAW IT FIRST SO FOLLOW AND SUBSCRIBE 🤑🤑🤑

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bestfriend pls let me come over twmr, i've run out of food 🙏🙏🙏

chef_yourusername did i not just meal prep you for the next week 🙄 bestfriend yesssss but i need that udon now 🙏 pls just for me 😁

user1 bestfriend is so real for that, like if i had a chef best friend, i would ask her to always cook for me

user2 fr, but like honestly how does yourname have the time to do everything??? user3 ikr, like she's THE exec chef at the only three michelin star restaurant in Monaco, Le Louis XV 😭😭😭

user4 IS THIS THE CHEF MAX VERSTAPPEN IS LOOKING FOR???

user5 yeah i think so right? like someone tagged her in his replies user6 HE LIKED THE POST TOO

user7 yo why is she kinda... 😳😳

user8 like girl is pretty and talented, god really has his favourites 😔

user9 yo come get ur chef maxverstappen1

LIKED BY chef_yourusername

user10 cant wait to see why max needs a chef lol

-> instagram dms

-> twitter

-> instagram

chef_yourusername

liked by max verstappen, bestfriend, friend1 and others

chef_yourusername guess who was cooking like a five star michelin 😉 ... and guess who wanted to pose with the wrinkly pear 😐

view all comments

maxverstappen1 they both must be so talented 😉

chef_yourusername sure, sure. i wonder who burnt 🍝 (pasta) on their first try 😐 maxverstappen1 i literally followed all your instructions, not my fault 🤷‍♂️ user1 how tf did max burn it - don't you just boil it??? user2 ik yourusername was on his ass after it happened

user3 IS THAT MAX IN CHEF'S WHITES IN THE FIRST PHOTO

user4 why does bro actually look good in it user5 when he pulls up in non-redbull gear... 🤤🤤🤤

user6 was this why the restaurant was closed today? i saw ppl on twitter talking about it~

user7 only max verstappen could make a michelin star restaurant close down just for him

charlesleclerc is this how you're managing to host the dinner?

maxverstappen1 it's supposed to be a surprise 😐 user8 there's a dinner? user9 is this the lestappen date night we were praying for maxverstappen1 no.

-> twitch, teamredline

#lights camera cook #max verstappen x east asian!reader #max verstappen x chef!reader #max verstappen x twitch!streamer!reader #max verstappen x streamer!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau #max verstappen social media au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #⭑ : my work.ᐟ #the-flaneur

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frannyzooey · 7 months ago

Text

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same.

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one.

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own.

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth.

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed.

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception.

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live.

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him.

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head.

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid.

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful.

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head.

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief.

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease.

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss.

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes.

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot.

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were.

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup.

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?”

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper.

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you.

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash.

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you.

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup.

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach.

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while.

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.”

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep.

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind.

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool.

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me.

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him.

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together.

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer.

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away.

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep.

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in.

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in.

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it.

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night.

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself.

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up.

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear.

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness.

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted.

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen.

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark.

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline.

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that.

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end.

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?”

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows.

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else.

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it.

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself.

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours.

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever.

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head.

He drank a glass of water, listening.

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor).

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs.

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone.

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in.

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs.

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned.

“In here?”

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding.

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased.

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her. Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt.

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes.

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats.

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you.

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep.

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark.

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him.

“What did you think?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths.

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging.

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed.

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled.

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop.

Bending down, he kissed you.

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip.

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso.

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat.

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin.

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts.

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit.

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers.

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand.

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan.

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off.

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head.

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in.

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it.

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been.

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek.

You shook your head.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat.

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone.

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate.

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release.

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine.

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months –

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it.

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head.

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below.

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths.

You stared right back, holding him tight.

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you.

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw.

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone.

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him.

The way he wanted you to need him all along.

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

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teastainedprose · 6 months ago

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Too Sweet - Ch. 1 (Cooper Howard x Reader)

A settler selling wares in Filly catches The Ghoul's eye. Inspired by a Tumblr post asking for an angst fic to Hozier's Too Sweet. 1,753 words | [AO3] No warnings yet, only innocent flirting. Banner from @eupheme

The first time he spots you, Cooper thinks nothing of it. Sure, you look a little less worn down compared to the usual rabble roaming Filly. Certainly scrubbed a little cleaner than most but so were the rest of your companions. The lot of you are a curiosity for sure, but he's seen plenty of attractive women over the ages and known a handful carnally. He's not the sort of man to let a pretty face distract him. No, you don't get a second glance from the ghoul as he goes about his business.

It's not until your laughter catches Cooper by the ear that he starts paying attention. Jerks his head right round at the sunny sound, attention diverting from the bounty board as he watches you engage with a customer. You laugh again, a merry delight that lights your face right up while the elderly woman you're chatting with laughs along. She's made brighter for being so close to you while you've suddenly become the sun in Cooper's eyes. A brightness he has to squint at when he looks over again to drink you in. His long-dead heart decides that it's about time to do a little flip.

That's a sensation he's not keen on feeling. Cooper hums under his breath, frown settling on his worn lips. He tugs the brim of his hat lower, turning away as he tries to focus on the task at hand. No good can come of fancying any sort of infatuation on a smoothie like you. You're not the sort of creature deserving of the trouble he could bring.

Yet Cooper finds he can't quite help himself. Wasteland life is full of little pleasures and looking at you sure counts as a bit of pleasure. Why not indulge?

The rest of the day as he sits waiting for a client to show, his eyes flicker over you. Wherever you're from, it's certainly kinder to you than what most folks in the Wasteland see. You almost look as soft as some fresh-faced Vaultie, but he can see that your hands are well-worn as you exchange produce for caps. A farmer of sorts. Homesteader.

He listens with a keener ear to the gossip swirling about you and those in your group. A little settler band situated out east, closer to the mountains and closer to what manages to grow green. He picks up that your lot wanders in every few weeks with produce to sell, or trade to stock up the settlement the collective group runs.

Idly, he wonders what horseshit sort of ideology your commune might be sunk into, but if you're looking to spread a new sort of gospel none of your ilk seem keen on sharing it here. You're a welcome addition to the economy of Filly and it's clear that many enjoy the taste of hope this band of settlers bring in with their harvest. Cooper figures that's indoctrination enough from the harsh reality the Wasteland offers up.

Cooper finds himself wandering over to Ma June's place under the pretense of stocking up on supplies. There's suspicion in her eyes as he drops his intended purchases onto the counter but that's not out of the ordinary. There's always suspicion in the looks Ma June gives him, but she'll take his caps all the same.

"Say, now what's with that group of lil' farmers hauling in their produce like that? Can't imagine those soft-lookin' sorts making their way all the way here unmolested," he drawls out. His smile is crooked as Cooper counts through his caps to pay.

"Settlers, but the well-armed sort. No point in trifling with them. Too well-liked here for their fresh food supply they haul in," Ma June pulls the caps towards her, gaze fixed on the ghoul as she mutters. "They'll trade with ya, but keep out of their business. Ya hear?"

A hum escapes Cooper as he considers this, leaning onto the counter while glancing out the dusty window towards where you stand at the stall. He casually stashes his purchases into his saddlebag while going on conversationally. "Well- Is that so? They a regular sort of fixture here in Filly now?"

"Have been setting up that stall going on half a year now. Surprised you've yet to come across 'em. Best cherry tomatoes you'll find in the Wasteland." Ma June eases back, arms crossing over her chest as a sour look settles in place on her worn face.

Another speculative hum escapes Cooper as he digests this information before he tips his hat to Ma June and goes on his way. Which happens to lead him straight to your stall.

Once there, Cooper casually plucks up potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and okra. All of it looks as vegetables should, the sort he would have found at the grocery store before everything went to shit.

"How much for this lot?" He sets the small bounty atop the open space on the stall. Cooper gives you his Hollywood smile that would charm the pants off of any woman in bygone days, except now his face is a leathery wreck and his teeth are yellowed with age. Most people instantly flinch away in disgust.

Not you.

You smile like the morning sun towards him as you step closer while dusting your hands off on your pants. The bit of dirt smeared on your face only seems to enhance your features in Cooper's eyes. The look you give him is almost shy once you meet his gaze, smiling warmly up to him.

Cooper finds that curious. He's familiar with a scowl or grimace of disgust when anyone looks him in the face, but here you are gracing him with an easy smile. A customer is a customer, he figures, and he'll do well enough. Yet, your friendliness doesn't feel like an act. Even after all these years, Cooper Howard still can clock other actors.

"Fifteen caps for the whole lot, but I'll throw in an extra sweet potato for the smile." You wink. Wink right at him as your smile grows. "They're good for ya, handsome." You add casually, the smile tugging up further into a cheeky grin. Your expression shifts. Playful. Coy. Interested.

Ain't that something? Cooper doesn't falter at the full force of your attention. He's too old and worn for that, but he sure does grin right back with a twinkle in his eye. Even an old ghoul like him can enjoy a pretty thing like you openly flirting with him.

Now that he’s heard it, Cooper decides your voice is sweet as a silver bell. The sort of soothing tone that reminds him of rain softly pelting a windowpane. It's the sort of sound that makes him wish to stay and listen for a while, tucked into the warmth that he suddenly wants you to offer up. He wants to get you talking to hear more. Wonders how he can coax you into a conversation.

That’s a fucking stupid idea. Cooper mentally shakes himself free of the passing fancy, head tilting ever so slightly as he peers down at you from the shadow of his hat. "Mhm. Ain't trying to get me hooked now are you, sweetheart?

"Something like that."

“Well now, reckon vegetables ain’t the worst sort of vice a man can get lost in.” Cooper still can’t help himself. He lets his eyes wander right down your body before flicking back up to your face, what sort of vice he’s pondering made clear.

That flush on your cheeks blooms all the hotter as you laugh for him, the sound an utter delight when directed his way. You smile, sweet and shy now as you pluck up a hefty sweet potato to set beside the rest of his purchases.

“Oh, well-” You start, stop with a small shake of your head as you smile all the wider. Utterly disarmed.

Cooper counts out the requested coin with a speculative hum, mirth sparking in his eyes as it seems he’s rendered you speechless. It’s down-right adorable if he’s being honest with himself. You’re a right little temptation he’d like to play with further. A dangerous thought.

Setting the coins onto the counter, he's swift in sweeping up his new bounty and stowing it all away into a pouch within his saddle bag. This close you're too bright and Cooper knows he's in trouble. Best to break away before you pull him into your orbit in full.

“You take care of yourself now, sweetheart,” Cooper drawls. He tips his hat towards you and turns away with spurs clicking. You watch him go, cheeks still flaming.

You know who he is. The Ghoul, the most famous Bounty Hunter the radiated Wastelands has to offer. You've heard all the rumors and truer tales about him all your life but nothing could prepare you for seeing him in the flesh. A dangerous sort of creature. A man who always brings his bounty in.

You'd been watching him all day, stealing glances as you work. Now that you've seen him up close and personal? You're down-right fascinated. He’s nothing like the monster the stories painted him out to be. At least, he certainly wasn’t monstrous to you. There’s something captivating about him. Charming, even.

You’ve seen ghouls before, of course. You know their kind as some live on the settlement with you. The majority end up shambling and ungainly, limbs no longer listening as the radiation rot wars with their regeneration abilities. A confusion that makes most of them uncoordinated and awkward in their transformed bodies, but The Ghoul? He’s got a swagger to his step that reminds you of those cowboys you’ve seen on ancient holotapes.

He’s been lurking at the edge of your awareness all day, your head cocking in his direction to listen to the cadence of his voice as he bartered for bullets and talked business outside of the bar over yonder.

A thrill had jolted through you the moment he started to move towards your stall. The nervous energy thrumming through you had been made all the worse when you met The Ghoul’s gaze for the first time. A woman could find herself lost in such eyes and you’d certainly tripped right into them. Boldly meeting this stranger’s gaze and enjoying every second his attention was on you.

Shame he left so quickly. You sigh, turning back to count out bottlecaps he’d left as you turn your attention back to work. Best not to think about it. You’re unlikely to see that legend ever again.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout fanfic #fallout writing #cooper howard #the ghoul #x reader #x you #I got 6 pages of writing and outlinings #wew #one day I'll finish a fucking fic #I'll just keep bouncing between this and Play With Fire #and finish..eventually #🍵 Too Sweet #there will be ACTION and SEX and ANGST #yeyeye #go big or go home I guess

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hausofwoo · 4 months ago

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when in berlin | jung wooyoung

pairing: jung wooyoung x afab reader

word count: 5.1K

summary: you move to the big city, yearning for a big change in your life, only find yourself feeling stuck all over again. that is, until you meet wooyoung, a perfect stranger who leads you on an unforgettable night of adventure and self discovery.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, alcohol consumption (but nothing crazy), unprotected piv (wrap it up!), use of a petname (baby), feat. work bestie!giselle.

author's note: i wanted to make a cute lil fluffy fic (with smut ofc) for my ult and this is what happened :-O i wanted to go a lil harder for him but i decided to save that for my next fic of him hehehe ALSO for reference, i imagined the club remix of umbrella to sound similar to this song, hope it captures the vibe. thank u to @hausofmingi and T for proofreading as always ♡

being new to the city was taking a toll on you.

you left your small town on a whim, eager to go out in the world: to experience something new, to get a bit of culture, to really find yourself. but all that you’ve found so far was a shitty low-paying job and a (suspiciously) low rent apartment on the east side. no one could blame you, you had just arrived and were still finding your footing.

you needed to get out; all you’ve really done in the past month of living here was work, eat and sleep. you desperately needed to socialize. so when your coworker invites you to go to a nightclub with her, you remind yourself that you’re here to try new things, and agree to go.

the line for the club is long. you expected this, it is a saturday night after all. you just weren’t really prepared to stand in line for half an hour. you’re dressed for the occasion, for in the club at least. it’s just outside the club that’s the issue, with cold air biting at your thighs in your all-too-tight dress. you check the time on your phone.

“giselle, it’s already 11:30,” you groan. “should we just go somewhere else?”

“but we’re so close to the front!” she quips. “just a little longer?”

giselle had been telling you all about this place, berlin. it was a club hidden in a basement in the heart of the city. apparently it plays all the hits, the actual good ones. and then at midnight, they always play some club remix of “umbrella” and bubbles descend from the ceiling. it sounded fun when she told you about it, but in this chilly air that’s only getting colder, you start to wonder if it’s worth it.

“fine,” you say, rubbing your arms to try to produce some sort of heat. “but if we miss umbrella then you owe me.”

giselle examines the long line ahead of you. “maybe we can get in with someone near the front?”

“giselle, no-” but before you can finish, she’s walking towards the front of the line.

you stay in your spot, feeling frozen in place. you watch her approach a group of men that seem to be around your age. you can see her nodding and smiling. since you met her, she’s definitely had a way with words. then, she looks back at you and points. suddenly feeling eyes on you, your face flushes in embarrassment, bringing heat back to your cheeks. you can’t really see the men, it’s dark and they’re a bit too far to see the details of their faces. giselle motions you over, and you’re hesitant, but you force yourself to be brave and cut the line.

as you make your way over, you can see the men getting their IDs checked and stamps pressed to their hands. you catch up to giselle, who’s fishing through her purse for her wallet.

“that was easy,” she giggles. “meet our new friends.”

you both turn to see the men being ushered in, not even getting a moment to introduce each other.

“oh. maybe we’ll catch up with them later,” giselle mumbles, swiping her ID from her wallet.

you shrug to her with a chuckle, ready to hold your hand out for a stamp.

following giselle down the stairs, the dark caverns of the stairwell were dimly lit with red lights. you can hear the music bumping distantly, and you wonder how much longer this set of stairs is. as soon as you reach the bottom, you realize it’s just a floor for the bathrooms and you have a whole new set waiting for you. the music grows louder and louder, and you start to feel the bass in your chest, or maybe your pulse is just beginning to rise in excitement for what’s to come.

a man that seems to be a bouncer guards the door leading to the actual club. as you both approach, he nods and pulls it open, unleashing the blasting sound and the heat of dancing bodies. you and giselle look at each other, smile, and rush right in.

you try and navigate your way through, opting to get drinks before anything else. you finally squeeze through the sweaty bodies to reach the bar, and giselle requests two tequila shots.

“tequila?” you repeat to her, struggling to yell over the music. “so it’s that kind of night?”

“oh yeah,” giselle says, grabbing the shots from the bar and paying her tab. “it’s that kind of night.”

you look at each other, doing a quick cheers and laughing almost out of giddiness. here’s to new experiences, you think to yourself.

slamming her empty glass down, giselle grabs your arm and starts leading you to the crowded dance floor. “now let’s fucking dance!”

swiveling through the crowd, you eventually land in the perfect spot right in the middle of the dance floor. the speakers are thumping some charli xcx song you know every word to, and the lights are flashing around you as well as the glistening bodies surrounding you. the crowd is jumping, singing to the song, dancing like no one is watching. you realize that you’ve been so tense all night, so you finally allow yourself to let loose.

you sing along with giselle, screaming the lyrics to each other and dancing to an unknown rhythm. but you don’t care how stupid you may look, you’re having way too much fun to think about the strangers around you. the alcohol slowly seeps through your veins, your head feeling lighter and your body more relaxed. with each song, you somehow don’t grow tired, only more exhilarated.

“i’m so glad we did this!” you attempt to yell to giselle.

“huh?!” she replies, not hearing you.

you brush it off with a laugh, continuing to jump along with her. the music switches to a song with a heavy bass, and you begin to feel the beats in the pit of your stomach. you melt into the music, letting every beat dictate your movements. the energy in the room changes, as if the pulsing sound awakened something in the crowd. you glance around, as if you’re trying to locate the source of the energy, before realizing you felt a pair of eyes on you.

there, across the flashing lights and moving bodies, you lock eyes with a stranger. despite the chaos around you, the stranger is standing still, maintaining eye contact with you. you feel a magnetic pull towards him, curiosity overcoming you. but before you can do anything about it, giselle pulls you deeper into the crowd. you can’t help but look back, searching for the eyes of that mysterious stranger.

“i think i’m gonna grab another drink,” you lean into giselle to say. “do you want anything?”

“i’m good for now!” she replies, continuing to dance.

you nod and try to part through the crowd, getting bumped and pushed a little too much for your liking. you escape the crowd only to another bustling one waiting around the bar. you sigh and run your fingers through your hair. this is gonna take a minute.

“you want a drink?” a man next to you says.

you prepare yourself to reject the man, having no interest in flirting with some random guy at a club. but when you look over, you notice it’s the man who was gazing at you across the dance floor. up close, he’s even more captivating. his dark hair is perfectly tousled and long strands of his tresses hang a bit over his face. his eyes contain a glint of curiosity, enhancing his mysterious demeanor. you catch yourself staring, and resort to nodding to him.

“what do you want?” he leans into your shoulder to murmur in your ear.

“uh, i think i just want a water,” you say, feeling yourself getting dizzy. you only had one shot and it’s wearing off quickly, and you realize the source is from a sudden wave of nerves.

you watch as he’s able to make his way to the edge of the bar top, not even needing to push and prod around the shifting bodies. in no time, he’s turning around with 2 waters, handing one to you. you take a big sip through the straw, trying so hard to maintain eye contact as he does the same. but his sharp brown eyes start to make you feel like jelly. how does he have this effect on you?

“i’m wooyoung,” he smiles, playing with his straw.

“hi wooyoung,” you say with a smile, telling him your name as well.

before you can continue, the song switches to the one you’ve been anticipating all night. umbrella. the crowd erupts in energy as the line around the bar immediately retreats to the dance floor. everyone knew what was about to happen. you look back at wooyoung with a smile on your face.

“let’s dance?” he says, grabbing your hand and steering you straight onto the dance floor.

you let out a giggle, seeing him holding your hand and looking back at you as pulls you in deeper. he pulls you into a spot big enough for the both of you, albeit very close. your faces are only inches apart, and you both gaze into each other’s eyes with growing interest. he then unleashes a sly grin, pointing to the ceiling above you. you look up to see a black metal box hanging from the ceiling.

“what is it?” you ask.

“wait for the chorus,” he lets out, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist.

you melt into his touch as the music pulses through your ears. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and let yourself sway to the rhythm. the lights are flashing blues and greens above you, glimmers reaching onto wooyoung’s face. you’re completely taken over by his trance, your eye contact persisting. his eyes break away to look up, watching the bubbles descend from the ceiling. you’re in awe from the whimsy around you, watching the bubbles fall onto the crowd.

it’s so silly in hindsight, the little light show and bubble machine. but with the way you feel the bass lines run through your whole body and the bubbles falling softly into your hair, you start to feel euphoric. wooyoung’s body melds into yours, grinding against you as he holds the small of your back. the bridge lifts the music to the height of the song, causing the bubbles to unleash tenfold.

“it’s so pretty!” you yell to him, attempting to catch them. you look to him smiling at you in admiration.

“oh my god,” you yelp, coming to a sudden realization. “giselle!”

you look around the crowd, searching for your friend. your eyes finally lock with hers, all while she’s dancing against a tall man.

“you okay?” you mouth to her.

she just nods eagerly, pointing behind to the man grinding against her. “I’M GOOD,” she mouths back with an OK hand signal.

you sigh in relief and turn back to wooyoung. a new song begins playing, but your focus is on him.

“wanna get out of here?” he says in your ear, before pulling back to see your expression.

you nod and allow him to pull you out of the crowd, weaving through the mass of people. he continues holding your hand all the way up the red stairwell, opening the door for you at the top of the stairs. as soon as you exit the building, you let out a big sigh.

“that was so fun,” you let out, smiling ear to ear. “now what?”

“i’m starving,” wooyoung says. “food?”

after getting something to eat at a food truck open a couple streets over, you and wooyoung arrive at a nearby park you found to sit in the grass. in the middle is a huge pond, with the moon reflecting along the soft ripples. you have a perfect view of the city, buildings looking massive and lights shining bright in the evening sky.

“it’s so beautiful,” you say under your breath, gazing at the sight before you.

wooyoung looks over at you. “yeah, it is.”

“you know, i just realized,” you start. “i’ve been in this city for a whole month and i haven’t even explored any of it yet.”

“why’s that?” wooyoung asks.

“i want to make the excuse of working too much, but it feels like a cop out,” you admit. “i’m just… completely new to this kind of lifestyle. this place has definitely been a culture shock.”

“so why’d you move here?” wooyoung shifts to face you more.

“i got tired of the monotony,” you say. “i wasn’t going anywhere back home. i felt so… stuck.” you run your fingers through your hair, and let out a dry laugh. “i thought maybe if i throw myself in an environment i know absolutely nothing about, i’d learn something about myself. that i’d figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. but living here so far has only made me realize how scared i am.”

“what are you scared of?” he asks.

“that i’m way in over my head,” you sigh, half-joking. “do you ever feel that way?”

“all the time,” he says. “but i try to ignore it. we have to take risks, embrace the unknown. that’s the only way we can actually find ourselves.” you nod, and he puts his hand in yours. “it might feel scary right now, but you’ve just made the first step.”

“you’re right,” you saying, turning to look at him. “it’s funny, this is probably the biggest risk i’ve taken so far here.”

“ditching the club to go to a park?” wooyoung asks. “"we definitely need to get you on some more adventures." he stands up, extending his hand out to you.

“what, right now?” you ask, grabbing his hand to lift yourself up.

“the night is still young,” he smirks at you. “i know the perfect place to start.”

the park you were at was big, but you didn’t realize how big. wooyoung guides you through the expanse of it, finally reaching to one end with a large unlit building. you can’t make out what it is at first, until reaching close enough to realize what it is.

“a carousel?” you ask. wooyoung is ahead of you, leading the way. “but it’s closed!”

“does that matter?” he says mischievously, running to the side of the structure.

you linger behind, nervously scanning the area to ensure no one is around. if you get caught, you could be in a huge trouble. you’re not sure what kind of trouble, but you didn’t really want to find out. but before you can continue spiraling, the lights of the ride blink on and starts slowly spinning.

“how the hell…” you say to yourself.

you slowly approach the ride, feeling the anxiety slowly dissipate from your mind as you watch the lights illuminate before you and faint carnival music plays. as the carousel turns, you see wooyoung already on board, seated on an ornately decorated white horse.

“are you getting on or not?” he waves his hand, beckoning you over.

you clench your fists, taking a deep breath. before you even realize it, you find yourself hopping onto the ride, claiming the horse next to his.

as the carousel begins to pick up speed, you felt a surging sense of exhilaration running through your body. you watch the blurred city lights spinning around you in streaks of color, wind brushing through your hair. it’s dizzying, but somehow felt good. wooyoung’s laughter is contagious, and you catch yourself laughing too, the sound weaving into the faint carnival music. you look back at him, still smiling along with you.

“this is amazing!” you shout over the music, holding the pole tighter as the horse moves up and down.

“i knew you’d like it!” he says, voice filled with warmth.

wooyoung leans closer, your eyes locking onto each other. your breath hitches, the music and lights fading into the background. a gentle smile plays on his lips as he reaches his hand out to hold your cheek, starting to close the distance between you. just as your lips were about to touch, the machine starts to shut down, and a flash of light hits your face. you bring your hand up to shield your eyes.

“hey!” a man’s voice yells out. “you can’t be on there!”

shit. you’ve been caught. you look over to wooyoung, who promptly grabs your hand and starts running. the last bit of momentum of the ride boosts you off and you trip over yourself.

“hey! get back here!” you see that it’s park security yelling, and they’re starting to run towards you.

wooyoung lifts you up from the ground, and as soon as you regain your composure, you start bolting. you both run hand in hand, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. wooyoung looks back, the security guard still on your tail. you reach the edge of the park, not sure which way to turn. wooyoung steps in the street, waving his hand out for a car. you look back to see the guard nearly caught up to you.

“wooyoung, we gotta go!” you yell.

he lets out a loud whistle, prompting an almost-passing taxi to halt a few feet in front of you. you both hop in, wooyoung telling the taxi to just start driving. the driver follows, continuing down the street.

you’re both out of breath, heaving from the sudden running. you look at each other and laugh.

“well…” you say. “what next?”

“oooh, i like it,” wooyoung teases. “you almost get caught and you’re already ready for more?”

“shut up,” you say, shoving his shoulder.

“mind telling me where to go?” the driver says.

“oh, sorry,” wooyoung chuckles, pulling out his phone. “can you take us here?” he shows an address to him. the man inputs the directions and reroutes.

“where are we going?” you ask.

“just a little party,” he says.

you arrive to the address, staring at the building as wooyoung pays the taxi. it’s a high-rise apartment building, and it looks nice—like, your entire salary worth for one month nice.

“um, wooyoung,” you say hesitantly. “who’s party is this?”

he wraps his arm around you. “it’s some famous DJ.”

“do you know this famous DJ?” you ask, almost not wanting to know the answer.

“nope,” he replies, walking you both through the tall glass doors.

“then how the fuck do we plan on getting in?” you whisper-yell to him. “this is an apartment building!”

wooyoung takes his arm off of you and points to the front desk. “well for starters, there’s no doorman.”

“that’s only half the problem!” you say as you step into the elevator.

he puts his hand under your chin teasingly, forcing you to make direct eye contact. “just trust me.”

the elevator doors open to a huge hallway, white walls covered with lavish paintings and the floors a shiny marble. near the end of the hallway, you can see a couple people loitering around the entrance of an apartment. there’s a man guarding the door, most likely security. wooyoung starts walking confidently towards the door, you following behind wondering how the hell he’s gonna pull this off. he approaches the guard and nearly grabs the doorknob.

“name?” the man says flatly, holding his arm out.

“oh yeah, i’m—” wooyoung starts, then stop when the door swings open to let a few people out. he takes a glimpse inside, then suddenly seeming like he sees someone he recognizes. “oh, hey chris!”

a man inside waves back, although looking a bit confused. the security guard sees the exchange, momentarily taken off guard.

“mind if i go join my friend?” wooyoung says, trying to continue his ruse. “he’s been waiting for us all night.”

the guard remains skeptical, causing wooyoung to lean in closer to him. “look, he invited us personally. if we don’t get in, it’s on him. you know how these things go.”

not wanting to cause a scene, the guard hesitantly nods and lets you both through. as you walk into the lavish space, you can’t even wonder how the hell that worked. all that matters is that it did, and now you’re here, in this huge place swarming with undoubtedly rich party-goers and music blaring in your ears. you follow wooyoung as he makes his way to the kitchen island, grabbing drinks for both of you.

“what should we cheers to?” wooyoung grins, handing it to you.

“maybe our new friend chris?” you say, giggling.

“to chris!” he says, clinking his glass to yours. you both take a sip.

“you’re crazy,” you say to him. “i can’t believe that actually worked.”

“confidence is key,” he winks, taking another sip. “should we explore?”

you nod, turning to trail him as you head towards a hallway of doors. unsure which one to pick, you look at wooyoung.

“one of these doors has GOT to lead to something cool,” he says, already walking up to one of them. he opens the door and promptly closes it with a surprised look on his face.

“what was it?” you ask, curious as ever.

“let’s just say some guy is getting very lucky tonight,” he says, holding back a laugh. “maybe i should’ve knocked.”

you put your hand over your mouth in an attempt to hold back a laugh, but seeing wooyoung’s shocked face sends you over the edge. you let out a muffled cackle, causing wooyoung to crack up too.

“shhhh!” he says, still laughing with you. he walks up to the next door. “let’s try this one.”

he opens the door to a dark room. you can’t really tell what it is, until walking in and letting your eyes adjust.

“they have a fucking movie theater?” you say, looking at the plush red couches around you and huge screen before you. “how famous is this DJ?”

“i don’t know, but i’m gonna need chris to introduce us,” wooyoung says, plopping down into a seat. he pats the spot next to him, prompting you to join.

“how did you find out about this party anyway?” you ask, getting comfortable on the couch.

“a friend of a friend saw a story and blah blah blah… does it matter?” wooyoung says, chuckling.

“you must go on a lot of adventures,” you say.

“i guess so,” he says, shrugging. “you know, i was kinda like you when i first moved here. it felt like i was just living like a zombie… wake up, go to work, come home exhausted, fall asleep, and the cycle starts all over again. i didn’t even realize i was avoiding what i was meant to do when i moved here.”

“and what’s that?” you ask.

“same as you,” he says, leaning his shoulder against yours. “same as everyone who moves here, to find myself.”

“and?” you ask.

“and did i find myself?” he says. “no clue. but at least i’m having fun.” he breaks into a smile, eyes meeting yours. you can’t help but to smile back.

“i guess having fun is a good start,” you reply. “maybe that’s exactly what i need.”

“i can help with that,” wooyoung whispers with a smile, leaning in towards you. your eyes flick from his eyes down to his lips, feeling the magnetism between you pulling you closer.

the theater door swings open behind you with two men charging in.

“yeah man, i don’t fucking know this guy!” your used-to-be friend chris says to the security guard approaching you.

“alright, you two,” the guard huffs. “party’s over.”

wooyoung and you immediately jump up, running to the opposite side of the theater to loop around and push past “chris” to escape out the theater door. you run together, attempting to open each door in the hallway to find some sort of place to hide. when one of them leads to a bathroom, you both rush in and slam the door behind you to lock it. wooyoung presses you against the door, his hand resting just above your head.

your breath trembles as you look up at wooyoung. he places his hand on your cheek, examining your face before closing the distance between you in a hungry kiss. he presses you close against his body, moving his other hand to hold your waist. the kiss was all-consuming, finally allowing all the built up tension to finally release between your bodies. your lips meld into his as you card your fingers through his long hair, not wanting to let go.

a knock shakes the door against your back as a man yells for you two to get out. but the threatening voice is just another sound in the background, your mind is only on wooyoung. you separate for moment, foreheads leaning against each other.

“let’s go somewhere more private,” wooyoung whispers. you smile and allow him to lead the way.

as you arrive at wooyoung’s place, you cling to him, allowing his lips to meet yours in a passionate embrace. you stumble over each other as he moves you backwards toward the bedroom, giggles escaping both of you. your clothes fall to the ground in the process, nearly ripping them off each other. you fall back onto the bed and wooyoung hovers over you, continuing to kiss you ravenously. his hands roam up and down your body, almost as if he wants to feel every inch of you—as if he wants to worship you. he slots between your legs, grinding against your core as he begins kissing your neck.

your body is aching for him, it’s been aching for him all night. the moment you saw him, the energy between you felt electric. and even now, with his body pressed against yours, the undeniable chemistry flows among you. your moans are inescapable, with the desire building in your stomach. wooyoung lifts himself slightly to move a wandering hand down to your heat, pushing your underwear to the side to feel your dripping core.

“so wet,” his muffled voice against your skin, before moving to meet your lips again.

he gathers your wetness upwards, beginning to rub circles around your clit. you moan into his mouth, relishing in the agonizing stimulation. he dips his fingers back down to your hole, entering his two middle fingers slowly. as he inches in, you clench around him, eager to take them. he thrusts his fingers in and out, progressively reaching deeper inside you. when he starts curling his digits to reach your g spot, you break away from his kiss to let out a wanton moan.

“wooyoung, i need to feel you,” you murmur, urging him to take off his underwear with you following suit.

he guides his cock to your entrance, dragging upwards to stimulate your clit. he drags back down and pushes his cockhead against your fluttering hole. your legs tangle around his waist, squeezing as if to tell him please, please fuck me. he pushes into you, causing you to release a sharp gasp at the size. he holds the side of your face, caressing gently as he gradually begins thrusting.

the sounds of your strangled breaths fill the room as he continues his movements into you. waves of pleasure ripple throughout your body, making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. his body moves in perfect harmony with yours, emitting a raw, unspoken passion. your legs wrap around him even tighter, your heated bodies melding into each other even deeper. the connection between you feels magnetic, and it only grows stronger with each thrust. his gaze meets yours, eyes filled with lust.

“you feel so fucking good,” he says between breaths, and places tender kisses along your jawline.

“please, don’t stop,” you manage to reply, pleasure taking over.

he lifts his body up to piston into you, hips snapping against you. his moans are unrelenting, the grip on your thighs tightening as the heat in your stomach begins to grow. he feels the way your core contracts around him, causing him to release one hand from your thigh to now focus on toying with your clit. this increases the clenching, nearly taking his breath away in pleasure. his thumb’s pace quickens, bringing the tension in your core to an unbearable peak.

“wooyoung, i’m gonna cum,” you moan, feeling the cord in you ready to snap.

“cum with me, baby,” he replies, his pace persisting. you can feel his grip start to tighten as he angles himself just right in you, causing you to completely come undone.

the room around you fades away as pure ecstasy overcomes you, not even holding back the straight up pornographic moans each of you are letting out. the tightening of your core around him makes his hips stutter, filling you completely with his release. the rolls of his hips begin to slow, fucking the last bit of his cum into you. he lets out a satisfied groan, falling on top of you while still inside.

your chest rises and falls in staggered breaths, finally coming down from your high. your run your fingers through wooyoung’s hair as he nestles in your neck. he hums against you softly, sending vibrations against your skin.

you wonder if this will be a one time thing—if he was just the perfect stranger you needed to meet in order to discover yourself. that he was just a stepping stone to urge you forward on your path, soon to be left behind but never forgotten. your heart sinks at the thought of it. you didn’t want that to be the case, because what you felt with him felt too real. that there’s this undeniable intense pull that made you crave more, and you ache at the thought of letting this go.

wooyoung gently holds the side of your neck, soft breathing tickling at you as his thumb slowly caresses you.

“sooo,” he starts. “what are you doing tomorrow?”

a smile spreads across your face as you realize that this perfect stranger won’t remain a stranger for long.

a/n: yeah so this was very self-indulgent but i have no regrets. i'm defo gonna make tonssss more woo fics, especially sub!woo, so stay tuned for that. 3rd fic ever so plz leave feedback and reblog to support me! thank uuuuuu ✧*

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a-aexotic · 8 months ago

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𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 1

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! familial issues, underage drinking, tension (between literally every LOL), blair/serena hating each other, you/blair and you/serena being besties lol, a lotta winfrey lore

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! ahhhh im super excited, as always please lmk your thoughts !!

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PRESENT DAY.

Hey, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, and I have the most surprising news ever. Y/N Winfrey spotted back in town after she disappeared for almost 6 months. But where has she been all this time? Sources tell me she's been living it up in the City of Love, Paris. Oh la la! But what brings our darling Y/N back to the Big Apple after all this time? Could it be a scandalous affair, a family feud, or perhaps a fashionable rendezvous with the elite of Parisian society?

Rumors are swirling as to the reason behind Y/N's sudden return. Some say she's back to reclaim her rightful place among Manhattan's elite, while others speculate that she's returned to stir up trouble in the already turbulent waters of Upper East Side.

But what of Y/N's infamous entourage? Will her loyal subjects, Nate, Isabell, Kati and Blair, welcome her back with open arms, or will there be whispers of betrayal and backstabbing among the ranks of Manhattan's elite?

Will she pick up right where she left off, ruling the social scene with her signature grace? Or has her time away changed her in ways we can't even imagine? So grab your designer handbags and your most scandalous gossip, Upper East Siders, because things are about to heat up in the city that never sleeps. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

As the sleek black limousine rolled to a stop in front of the towering building, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, revealing the figure of Y/N Winfrey stepping out into the cool Manhattan air.

With a flick of your hair, you cast a cool gaze towards your old home, a grand penthouse that stood as a testament to the wealth and power of the Winfrey family. The familiar sight of the elegant facade stirred a flurry of emotions within you, memories both bitter and sweet flooding your mind as you took in your old home.

You were too focused on the old home to hear your mother come up from behind you, putting a hand on her shoulder as she examined the home as well. She hadn't been there since the divorce, which was almost a decade ago.

"I know you're nervous, Y/N. But don't let any of them get to you, okay?" Her voice rang in your ears as you nodded slowly. You weren't sure who she was referring to; your father's new family or your old friends. Or maybe, all of the above.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't."

With a reassuring squeeze of your mother's hand, you gathered your resolve and stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited you within the walls of your old home.

Your new family met you with open arms and it felt strange to be back home, the same home you'd left; except, everything inside had changed. There were no more pictures of you anywhere, they were all replaced with wedding photos or pictures of your new stepsister, Charlene. It made your stomach twist in disgust, you couldn't believe your father had a brand-new, shiny family. The perfect family he'd prayed for, you were almost happy for him. Almost.

"So how was Paris, Y/N? Did you like it?" Josie's voice brought you back to real life. You turned your gaze up to meet hers, a tight smile on your lips. You were sat in the living room of the penthouse, alongside your mother and stepmother.

"It was... fun," you reply carefully, your tone neutral. You couldn't bring yourself to admit just how much you missed Paris, how it had felt more like home than this place ever did. Instead, you plastered on a facade of indifference, hoping to shield yourself. "It's too bad that we left."

Your mother let out a light laugh as she glanced back at you. "We'll be back as soon as we can. I just missed New York so much and I'm so happy to be back." What she didn't mention was that the only reason she was back was for her business, she wanted to open more shops in Manhattan.

"Yeah, it's nice to be back," you replied, forcing a smile. Despite your mother's attempt to lighten the mood, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

Josie, your stepmother, chimed in, her voice cheerful. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you'll adjust to being back in no time. Especially with Eleanor's party tonight, you'll be attending that... right?"

"Yes, yes she will." Your mother answered for you. You knew that your mother wanted to reintroduce you back into Manhattan society but you didn't even have time to adjust back into New York time, you were jetlagged.

You didn't want to even think about why you even left in the first place. When you decided to leave, you promised that when you'd come back, you'd leave it in the past. You'd leave him in the past.

Nate. The mere thought of him sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the heartache you had endured before leaving for Paris. You had promised yourself that you would never allow him back into your life, that you would move on and leave the past where it belonged.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as your mother and stepmother continued to discuss the details of the upcoming event, their voices fading into the background as your mind wandered back to memories you had long tried to forget.

──౨ৎ──

"And if they ask you about the business, what do you say?" Your mother quizzed you as she put on lipgloss, looking into the mirror of the hallway of the building that Blair's penthouse resided in.

You tore your gaze away from your own reflection to meet your mother's eyes, a sense of unease creeping into your stomach. "I'll say that things are going well," you replied, your tone carefully neutral. "That we're expanding and looking for new opportunities in Manhattan."

Your mother nodded in approval, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Good," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Just remember to keep it vague. We're a family, and we need to show the world that we're strong, no matter what."

You forced a smile, though the weight of your mother's words hung heavy in the air. The facade of unity was fragile, and you knew that beneath the surface, tensions simmered, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Your mother finally finished her lip gloss, focusing now solely on you. "Remember, confidence is key. You're representing not just yourself, but our entire family."

"Got it." You answered, the words coming out as more of a reassurance to yourself than to her.

Her words echoed in your mind as you followed her towards Blair's penthouse, the anticipation of Eleanor's party looming ever closer. The elevator dinged and the door opened, revealing the glamorous penthouse of the Waldorf's. Your mother's hand found yours as she squeezed it, reassuring as you two walked back into Manhattan's elite society.

"Priscilla Winfrey! You made it!"

Your mother's head turned to meet Eleanor, a charming smile enveloping her lips as she walked toward her.

"Oh, and is that Y/N?" Eleanor gasped as she studied you, taking every little detail in. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart. You're starting to look more and more like your mother every passing day."

"Thank you, Ms. Waldorf," you replied graciously, offering her a polite smile. Despite the compliment, you couldn't shake the sense of unease that gnawed at you.

Eleanor's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to your mother, engaging her in conversation. Left momentarily alone, you scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces that surrounded you.

Your eyes landed on your old friend group, all seated on the couch. A sense of nostalgia hit you as you examined their faces, all the nights you'd spent partying with them playing in your head. Isabell, Kati and Chuck sat as they spoke, talking about God knows what.

You couldn't help but wonder where Blair was, it was her party and she wasn't with her friends. And of course, Nate.

Chuck's eyes finally met yours, a wide smirk on his lips as his eyes fell on your body before back to your eyes. But before you could go up to them, you heard an excited squeal behind you.

"Y/N!"

You recognize that voice anywhere; it was Blair. She enveloped you in a tight hug, her excitement palpable as she pulled back to study your face. "Oh my God, it's been too long." she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling but there was something you couldn't quite place. "You look amazing, as always."

You were nervous, it had been so long since you'd seen your old best friend. Your stomach twisted in guilt as you gave her a tight smile, her hands squeezing yours. "Thank you, Blair. You looked stunning but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

Blair's smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure, a flash of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N," she replied, her tone warm but tinged with an undercurrent of tension. "I'm just glad you're here. Like, really here."

You and Blair had been close since you were kids, your families being close since the beginning of time, basically. Your mothers were best friends in school and now, you are too. Before you left Paris, you told Blair and Serena and made sure to give them calls whenever you could. But soon, Serena stopped answering your calls and according to Blair, she just disappeared to a boarding school in Connecticut.

Blair still didn't know the real reason you fled to Paris and that gulit chipped at you everyday, even more now as you saw her lips curve into a rare genuine smile.

"I've missed you, Blair," you replied, your voice tinged with sincerity. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back, Y/N." Blair gave your hand a squeeze before she spoke again. "Excuse me for two seconds, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Of course, Blair," you replied, offering her a reassuring smile as she excused herself.

You let out a sigh before turning your focus back to your mom, who was now in a conversation with a person you weren't sure you knew the name of. You knew you couldn't bother her right now, she was networking.

With a resigned sigh, you resigned yourself to the role of observer, content to blend into the background as your mother worked her magic in the world of Manhattan's elite. It wasn't the first time you had found yourself sidelined in favor of your mother's professional pursuits, and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

You couldn't blame her, though. After the divorce, her career had become more than just a family business—it had become her lifeline, it was the only thing she still had.

You remembered the days that followed your parents' separation, the way your mother had thrown herself into her work with a fervor bordering on obsession. It had been her way of coping, her way of escaping the pain and heartache that had threatened to consume her. You didn't blame her, her high school sweetheart had left her for a woman almost half her age, closer in age with her daughter than her.

You found the drinks table quickly, grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip of it. As you lifted the glass to your lips, the cool and crisp taste of the champagne washed over your tongue, distracting you from the emotions swirling within you. With a sigh of contentment, you leaned against the table, letting the hum of conversation and laughter wash over you.

As you scanned the room, your eyes fell on a familiar brunette. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized who it was; the person you'd been wanting to escape since you left for Paris. His bright blue eyes met yours and you felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through you. It was Nate, your once-close friend, the one person who had been a constant presence in your life before everything changed.

His gaze held surprise as he caught sight of you across the room, and for a moment, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You were frozen, unable to move as he approached you.

You couldn't escape him now.

Nate's lips curved into a smile as he took you in, with all your glory. "Y/N, you're back. It's, uh... good to see you."

"Yeah, you too." You responded, giving him a short answer.

Nate's smile faltered slightly at your response, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features before he quickly masked it. "So, uh... how have you been?" he asked, his tone cautious as though treading on uncertain ground.

"I've been good. And you?"

"Me too. I'm happy you're back." He looked down at the glass of champagne as he let out a chuckle. "I'm glad you still have that taste of champagne, some things just never change."

You couldn't help but smile at Nate's attempt to lighten the mood, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. "Yeah, some things never change," you agreed, a hint of warmth creeping into your voice.

"Nate!" Blair's voice echoed as she came up to the two of you, grabbing his arm. "You don't mind if I steal him for a second, Y/N."

You and Nate exchanged looks before you tore your eyes from him and back to Blair, a forced smile playing on your lips. "Of course not, he's all yours." In more ways than one, you thought to yourself as the two walked away, leaving you alone once again.

Before you could relish in being alone again, your mother's voice rang behind you. "Y/N! Blair! Look who's back."

You turned to meet the blonde you'd once called your best friend. Serena. Her gaze held excitement as she found yours, you began walking toward and engulfing her in a big embrace.

You didn't know why she left for Connecticut but you knew she would tell you and Blair eventually. You, Serena and Blair had always been close and tight-knit, no matter the circumstances.

Serena pulled out of the hug and put her hands on your shoulders as she studied your face, a grin on her face. "You're glowing, Y/N."

"Says you. How did you get even more blonde since I've seen you?" You teased as she let out a laugh.

Serena's laughter echoed through the hallway, a sound that filled you with a sense of warmth and familiarity. Despite the time that had passed since you had last seen each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

"I've been spending way too much time in the sun," Serena admitted with a playful grin, her blue eyes sparkling. "But enough about me, tell me everything. How was Paris? Did you meet any cute French boys?"

You chuckled at Serena's teasing. "Paris was amazing," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recalled your time. "And as for French boys, well, let's just say they definitely live up to the hype."

Serena laughed, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "I knew it!"

"Serena?"

You both turned to face Blair, a unreadable expression on her face before she quickly masked it with excitement. She pulled her into a tight hug but you could feel the tension, what the hell did you miss when you were Paris?

"So good to see you, how are you?" Blair pulled out of the hug as she looked in between you.

"Oh, look! The girls are back together, my heart is gonna burst." Eleanor gasped as she observed the scene in front of her, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Are you staying for dinner, I'll set a place next to Y/N and Blair!"

"Yeah, um, there's somewhere I have to go." Serena looked in between you, a guilty expression on her face.

"You're leaving?" Blair's voice sounded hurt as she looked back at Serena.

"Yeah... I don't feel well, I-I just wanted to come and say hi. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow." Serena responded as she slowly began to back up, before she turned away.

Blair's expression dropped immediately back to a bitter expression, looking back to you. "At least you're staying. Who needs Serena anyway?" She whispered the last part as she turned away and began walking away.

You began following behind her, "What did I miss?"

"What do you mean?"

You caught up to Blair and you two began walking toward the couch. "I mean... with you and S?"

"Serena." She corrected. "And nothing except all you know. She left without saying a word, to none of us." Blair sounded bitter but you knew deep down, she was just hurt.

"Well, maybe something happened."

"With what?" Chuck joined the conversation as Blair glared at him. You could feel Chuck's gaze on your dress as he smirked.

"Mind your business, Chuck." Blair spoke as she rolled her eyes.

You caught Chuck's gaze, his smirk igniting a spark of annoyance within you. "Chuck, it's not polite to stare," you retorted, your tone sharp as you shot him a pointed look. Some things never do change, you thought.

Chuck's smirk widened at your words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but admire the view," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You did some growing up in Paris, I could tell." His eyes were focused on your dress as you scoffed.

"Paris does wonders for a person," you replied dryly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

──౨ৎ──

"I'm pregnant! Surprise, Y/N!" Josie shouted as your father pulled her in closer, your jaw slowly falling. She's... what? Your fork clattered against the plate, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed Josie's announcement. Pregnant? The word echoed in your mind, disbelief and shock washing over you in waves.

Your head was pounding, you got home around 12:30 last night because the party lasted a little longer than expected. You were just trying to enjoy your breakfast before school, but then they drop this bombshell on you.

"Wh-what?" You finally managed to stammer out, your eyes wide with disbelief as you looked at Josie. "How does, uh, Charlene feel about it?"

Charlene was Josie's daughter from her previous relationship, she was about two years younger than you and... well, you couldn't stand her.

"You can ask her yourself!" Josie's gaze moved behind you and you turned to face Charlene. Speak of the devil.

Charlene's lips curved into a smile, though there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. "Super excited. I mean, I can't wait to be an older sister."

There was awkward silence before you got up from the dining table, clearing your throat. "Well... I have to get ready for school. This was really nice."

You got up and began walking up the stairs, ignoring their stares. You wanted to stay with your mom but she was staying at The Palace and your father insisted you stayed with them and his shiny new family.

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