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chaithetics · 22 days

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Very Own, Personal Venus

Pairing: Abel Morales x plus size f (afab) reader Word count: 2.4K Warning/note: 18 + MDNI, fluff, established relationship, oral (f receiving). A/N: Not proofread, I hope you all enjoy it! I was hoping to get this out a lot sooner than what I did, so oops! Plus size, midsize, chubby, curvy girlies are absolute beauties, you/we deserve more love. No physical description mentioned other than reader being plus size! I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it but especially you! Please validate me and this fic, comments, reblogs and asks very much appreciated🫶 Tagging with much appreciation @steven-grants-world x Gif by @flawless-v1ctory

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It was a late night at the start of a cool winter when Abel’s car pulled into the driveway and he came home from a long day. Due to the temperature, he’d spent most of the day when at meetings and driving bundled up in his signature, large, caramel coat.

When Abel stepped inside, it was much warmer, it was perfectly cosy and he quickly took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack then he immediately took his shoes off and placed them in the shoe rack by the door. You weren’t downstairs which didn’t surprise him, it was late and he knew you’d be wrapped up like a gift in bed, either sleeping or reading.

Abel walked upstairs to your bedroom, the door was open and a light was on, he leaned against the doorway. Abel’s eyes immediately landed on you, the way that your body is laid out in bed and on display, he can’t help but bite on the inside of his cheek as he thinks about how you look like an antique piece of art depicting a goddess treasured in some museum as he takes in the soft waves of your body. His own personal Venus.

Abel lets out a low, little whistle as he steps out of the shadow of his day that hangs from the doorframe and walks further into the light of where you are in the bed. You hear the whistle and his footsteps against the floor, you start to turn over to look up and face him.

You blink tiredly for a minute as your eyes focus on his approaching figure and you give him a small smile, staying in the comfortable bed that is just perfectly cosy with all the blankets and covers. You move your arm up so you can rest your head a bit on it as you try to wake yourself up more.

“It’s late…” You whisper as he moves to sit on the bed.

‘I know baby, I’m sorry.” He says as he caresses your forehead gently while looking at you.

You’re happy to see him, you miss him during the day and you’ve certainly been missing him more lately with the late nights he’s been working over the last week trying to make everything happen for another deal and the endless issues that an entrepreneur like him is constantly grappling with.

Abel’s met with your kind smile, as you look up at him. You’re too kind for him, too perfect. It’s the thoughts that come to his mind as he looks at your gorgeous smile and how that makes your plump cheeks look. He caresses your face for a moment, his fingers dancing over the full cheeks and he tilts his head down to place a gentle, grateful kiss there.

As he does that, you place a hand into his hair, the gelled back hair, neat and short enough, styled so that his natural curls aren’t springing free, much to your dismay. But he’s still perfectly handsome like this.

You place your other hand to his shoulder and caress it softly with a tired sigh. He’s wearing one of his turtlenecks again and he looks so goddamn good. He knows you love that item of clothing on him, you don’t know what it is but it just is some universal thing that makes every look look better and Abel just pulls them off so well. No matter what colour, fabric, or where they are brought from, they all seem to be tailor-made for his body in the sexiest way possible. Your cheeks heat up a little as you think about how good he looks. You had the most handsome and softly spoken husband in the world.

“How was your day though?” You ask as you watch his face. There’s a tired look there but there’s a smile on his lips which grows each time his eyes look at you and he hears your voice. It’s the best sound in the world to him, especially after a long day.

“It was okay, it’s better now that I’m here with you.” He whispers which makes you smile. He’s always so sweet, a mouth of sugar.

Abel’s hand moves down from your cheek as he caresses your neck and then your shoulder, you can’t help but watch his face as the most peaceful expression takes over him as his hand travels further down your body. He ends up caressing your upper arm as his fingers run along the visible stretch marks on your skin, up and down, over and over. It’s a gentle, affectionate touch. He lets out a little peaceful hum.

He looks completely content and you can’t help but feel the same feeling, an easiness in your bones, as you look at him and breathe slowly as he does too. You’re sure that if you pressed your head against his warm chest and listened to his heart you’d find that you’re both so peaceful and in sync that your hearts would be beating together in time.

“Is it gonna be a quieter day tomorrow?” You ask as you relax more, feeling your body sink further into the mattress as his hand continues, you can tell that Abel is completely focused on you as he does this. He blinks slowly for a moment, his warm brown eyes had been focusing on where he’d been caressing you and they focus again on your sweet face. He gives a little nod. “Yeah, it should be. I should be home for a late dinner at least, honey.” He says softly in his dreamy voice, it’s becoming a bit breathier. Your eyes then widen, you’d put leftovers in the fridge for him but he might’ve just come straight to bed and not eaten at all. You knew he usually had lunch but it’s been quite a while since then so you tilt your head as you look at his face. “Have you not eaten? Abel! There’s leftovers in the refrigerator, do you want me to heat it up for you? A snack? Oh Abel…” “I’m fine, I’ve eaten today. Might just have a little snack.” He says as he tilts his head to look at you with a growing smirk on his adoring face.

He moves the silk of your nightgown up to your stomach, exposing your thighs and intimate areas. Abel moves down your body sprinkling some kisses along your neck and full breasts and stomach. He gets down to between your thick thighs and smiles widely. It’s the most animated he’s looked since being home and you can’t help but smile back as your cheeks heat up at this sight.

“I just need something sweet before bed.” He whispers against the sensitive skin of your thighs, it draws a sharp gasp from you and you feel your fingers start to instinctively search for a corner of a sheet or pillow to grip onto in preparation of what’s to come. His fingers dance along the softness of your thighs. “Can I have a sweet treat, beautiful?” Abel asks in a voice that’s soft and feels musical, you can feel each breath of his words.

Your cheeks heat up more and you bite your lip, it takes a couple of seconds for your brain to connect to whatever part of your nervous system it needs to to say the ‘yes’ aloud and not just think it. You finally say it and give a quick, frantic nod.

Abel’s hands expertly run around the soft thighs that he loves, he’s done this a million times and will do it at least another million times more. He peppers on kisses up and down your thighs, you squirm slightly at the feeling of his lips and hot breath. He knows just how to turn you on perfectly and immediately.

His eyes were closed for a moment as he kissed your thighs and his ran up to your vulva. He ran his fingers around, not getting anywhere near your hole or bundle of nerves as he teased you, he wouldn’t call it that though. He’d say he was building up anticipation. He did that for a moment before he palmed you, you let out a gasp at that and gripped the pillow next to you. You knew what was coming next.

Abel’s finger circled your sensitive bundle of nerves three times, you couldn’t help but let out a moan. He was kissing your inner thigh now as he moved his fingers and he started to dip one into your hole, it was barely in but he was teasing you nonetheless, starting to work you up. You felt your breath become a little shaky as your cheeks heated, you bucked your hips up, trying to get more contact with his fingers, needing to swallow him up more.

You gasped, letting out a giggle as you felt his smirk against your thigh at that somatic ask for more. He smiled more and did as he knew you wanted, he started to move his finger in deeper as you eagerly swallowed his digit up with each movement. You smiled and let out a moan as he did that.

Abel kept kissing your thighs as that happened, he was licking them gently, perfectly content to take his time with you laid out, looking so ethereal with pleasure painted all over your face. When you were like this, it was like a renaissance painting just for his eyes.

His fingers pump in quicker, and he adds another finger in which you can’t help but whine at. You dig another fingers into the pillow next to you and let out a moan as your eyes shut tightly. The feeling of pleasure becomes so much more overwhelming with the extra digit and quicker pace.

It’s now that his mouth moves up and you feel his nose lightly nudge your clitoris and you gasp out, you can’t help but let out a louder moan at that. Abel’s mouth starts to devour you up, he licks through your folds, kissing along your slit and he starts to slowly lick around your bundle of nerves. “Tastes so good, you always taste so good for me.” He whispers against your clitoris and you can’t help but gasp out and slightly shake at that, the feeling of his words, what they do the fire in your loins and what the feeling of his breath does to those sensitive nerves.

Abel quickly goes back to licking your beautiful cunt, he’s lapping up like it’s the sweetest treat he’s ever had, like it’s his only source of water and it’s the hottest day in history. You just taste that good to him. He keeps lapping your juices up, pulling out the most amazing noises out of you.

One of your hands is still tightly gripping onto the pillow but the other quickly moves to his head of perfect hair. You scratch at his scalp, trying to keep it light, despite the fact that with how good he’s making you feel and how overwhelming it is, it would be so easy to scratch harder. You start to tug on his hair as you whine out. His two fingers are still pumping in and out of you at a delicious pace and you can feel his fingers reaching the perfect spot inside.

But it’s what his mouth is doing that is really driving you wild, he’s still lapping through your folds, savouring every last drop of your juices as you whine under him. His hand that isn’t pumping you, is now up holding onto your left breast and squeezing it gently. His eyes are closed now as he treasures this moment, the feeling of your perfect body and how sweet you taste. Abel starts to suck on your clitoris and that’s when you cry out. You try to bite your lip, it feels so damn good and you know you’re close. He keeps pumping his fingers in and out at the same pace, he knows better than to change it up moments away from the finishing line. He keeps licking and sucking on your clitoris, he moans and hums against it as he sucks the release out of you.

Your hand tightens in his ear as you feel your eyes roll back as the feeling overwhelms your whole body. You release, whining out over the high of your orgasm as Abel mouth and tongue slow down in order to help you ride it out and not overstimulate you. You pant and close your eyes, letting go of the pillow you were gripping and holding it to your forehead. You look down at Abel and he’s still between your thighs, looking up at you. He slowly and gently licks up your release and then sprinkles gentle kisses across your thighs.

“You’re so perfect, so beautiful for me.” He whispers as he looks at you adoringly. Your cheeks heat up again and you smile tiredly at him.

You’re saying it all with your eyes, you love him, you’re grateful for him. He’s the only one who can make you feel that good. And he feels exactly the same, and he says it all with his eyes too as he looks up at you.

Abel is looking more tired now though, you’re both absolutely exhausted and ready for sleep now. You’ve had another amazing release because of his handiwork and he got his sweet treat that he needed so badly before bed.

He smiles tiredly at you and moves his body slowly back up. He kisses your hip one last time, then your soft stomach, making sure to sprinkle it in affectionate kisses as he then lands to your neck for a long, sweet kiss. Abel then rests his head against your chest, he caresses your arm softly as your legs tangle together and you start to play with his hair as you close your eyes, feeling content. Both of your breathing settles, back to normal and then start to slow down as tangled up, you both drift off to sleep. You feel him give your chest one last kiss before he tilts his head, closes his eyes and falls into a peaceful slumber. One he could only have with you.

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justforbooks · 7 months

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For the opening scene of Shaft – the 1971 film that helped inaugurate the “blaxploitation” genre and spawned an Oscar-winning song in Isaac Hayes’s call-and-response classic Theme from Shaft – the director Gordon Parks mapped out to the actor Richard Roundtree exactly what would happen.

Roundtree – playing the New York detective John Shaft who “won’t cop out when there’s danger all about” as the song puts it – was to stride out of the subway near Times Square, tracked by assorted cameras positioned opposite him and at high angles. “I want you to walk across 42nd Street,” Parks said. “And I want you to own it.”

Own it he did. In his beige turtleneck and brown leather trench coat, Roundtree swaggers and weaves through the hubbub, looking bemused at a demonstration going on around him (which was nothing to do with the film itself but a real-life protest by the Gay Activists Alliance) and improvising the moment when he raises his middle finger at an impatient cabbie. “I did own it,” he reflected. “Much better than I could ever have imagined.”

It was the first major screen appearance for Roundtree, who has died aged 81 of pancreatic cancer, and the one that defined him for the rest of his life. He was cast after a meeting with Parks, a former photojournalist, who showed him a magazine advertisement and said: “We’re kind of looking for a guy who looks like this.” Serendipitously, it was an ad featuring Roundtree himself.

In optioning Ernest Tidyman’s 1970 novel, in which Shaft is hired to rescue a gangster’s kidnapped daughter, MGM had considered making the characters white. But Parks defended the novel’s vision, including its acute awareness of Black culture. He wanted audiences “to see the Black guy winning”.

That single-mindedness paid off, saving the troubled studio from bankruptcy. “Ghetto kids were coming downtown to see their hero, Shaft, and here was a Black man on the screen they didn’t have to be ashamed of,” the director said in 1972. “We need movies about the history of our people, yes, but we need heroic fantasies about our people, too. We all need a little James Bond now and then.”

John Shaft was suave and uncompromising, free to dispense justice his own way, and cut from a snazzier cloth than the nobler roles for which African-American stars such as Sidney Poitier were known. In 2000, the critic Elvis Mitchell noted that Roundtree’s “on-screen relish, which was itself a kind of dynamism, connected to an audience hunger. And he held the screen like an aristocrat.” Mitchell compared him to Sean Connery, identifying “the same outsize wellspring of charm and virility, but with a leavening … sense of self-deprecation”.

He did many of his own stunts. “We could get close with our helicopter shots because you could see it really was Roundtree and not a stunt driver,” said Parks. “We spent 12 days on that chase, and wrecked four cars, two boats and a mock-up chopper.”

The actor returned for two sequels, Shaft’s Big Score! (1972), which was also directed by Parks, and Shaft in Africa (1973), which, regrettably, was not. After a brief Shaft TV series in the same year, which Roundtree described as “an ugly point in my long, illustrious career”, he was done with John Shaft. For now.

Born in New Rochelle, New York, to Kathryn (nee Watkins), a cook and housekeeper, and John Roundtree, a refuse collector and later church minister, Richard attended New Rochelle high school and won a football scholarship to Southern Illinois University. After working at Barneys department store, he modelled clothes and became one of the stars of the Ebony Fashion Fair, a touring spin-off of Ebony magazine. He then joined the Negro Ensemble Company in New York City and starred in its 1967 production of The Great White Hope.

Capitalising on the heat from Shaft, he joined Charlton Heston and Ava Gardner in the disaster movie Earthquake (1974), played the title character in Man Friday (1975) opposite Peter O’Toole as Robinson Crusoe, and appeared as a rakish carriage driver in the slavery-era TV drama Roots (1977).

In between TV series, including most recently Family Reunion on Netflix, he was in the action comedy City Heat (1984), set during the Depression and starring Clint Eastwood and Burt Reynolds, the gruesome serial-killer hit Seven (1995) alongside Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, the Disney comedy George of the Jungle (1997) and Rian Johnson’s witty neo-noir thriller Brick (2005).

Having declined various Shaft-related offers, he finally relented and appeared in John Singleton’s reboot, Shaft (2000), with Samuel L Jackson as his nephew. He returned for a misguided comic riff on the franchise, also called Shaft (2019), which revealed that Jackson’s character was in fact his son, and brought in a new generation in the form of a sensitive, gun-hating grandson.

“Everybody wanted to be you for a very long time,” Jackson told Roundtree in a 2019 interview with the Los Angeles Times. “You defined what cool was – you had the look, the walk, the attitude.”

Pigeonholed by the part in the 1970s, Roundtree finally made peace with it. “Sometimes it’s much easier to ride the horse in the direction that it’s going,” he said.

He was married and divorced twice, to Mary Jane Grant, then Karen Ciernia. He is survived by two daughters, Kelli and Nicole, from his first marriage, and two daughters, Tayler and Morgan, and a son, John, from his second.

🔔 Richard Arnold Roundtree, actor, born 9 July 1942; died 24 October 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #richard roundtree #shaft #in memoriam

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menagerie-rpg · 6 years

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「 CEYDRAN AECOR 」

STRATUM: Two AGE: Thirty-six OCCUPATION: Funfair Operator SUGGESTED FCS: Oscar Isaac

CREATURE FORM.

CETEA is a monster of the sea. Ceteas are often described as being a large, dragon-like sea monster. Although elegant in appearance, the beast has rows of razor-sharp teeth and is seen as a bad omen by sailors.

ABOUT.

They call you a rabid dog, quick to cower in fear yet swift to bite in defence too. But they don’t understand. Nobody has seen the horrors that you have laid eyes on. First, you had to sacrifice your innocence to assist your brother and his criminal gang. Second, you sold your soul to the army for much-needed dollar signs in return. You suffered so much only for real workplaces and life itself to deny you. Unstable, they label you. Not particularly useful, they whisper. Life’s hard and only a real man can cope, your father preaches. But you do not see a man in the mirror, nor do you remember what it’s like to be one.

BIOGRAPHY.

All under the cut.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abuse, Violence.

WE MEN ARE WRETCHED THINGS.

His home was quiet, when he was young. Quiet doesn’t mean peaceful, though; the air sparked with a tension he didn’t understand yet. His mother left when he was born, and women flitted through the great oak doors and up the marble staircase to his father’s bedroom like blind moths. His father was a wealthy shipmaker, helping build aircraft carries Their house by the sea was fortunate, even though his brother hated it. The sea was Ceydran’s home, though, and he only felt safe in his little rowboat as he pushed out into the open bay. Even when a storm was coming in and he knew he’d get home late and wave-tossed, he still felt safe. Powerful.

It was little surprise to Ceydran when his beast form first manifested. Scales had already begun appearing at his hips and his neck, giving him an affinity for turtlenecks and popped collars. His eyes had slit pupils when he looked in the mirror too hard, and his toenails were talons in the shower. But he had done a good job concealing them, so when his father and his latest lover watched him from the beach as he struggled not to break his dinghy, their screams echoed in his lengthening skull. She ran away without looking back, and his thrashing tail split the boat in two. His father hit him when he was human. It’s better to have the monster in your home afraid of you, rather than the alternative.

Nothing was more humiliating than walking back to the house after calming a transformation. It only ever came on after he had hidden it for weeks, quelling the acid in his chest when his brother came home late, bruised, or his father didn’t come home at all. But then it broke out and he had to run, spasming, from the house into the water to avoid smashing the marble with his ever enlarging form. He would creep back into the house when he was done, pitifully naked and shivering, scales and saltwater falling off his back as he tried to avoid the gaze of the servants. Only once was his brother waiting with a sheet for his decency and a gentle, if tentative touch.

THE ROARING SEAS LIE BETWEEN US.

“I need your help.”

His brother hadn’t been home in twenty three days, his longest stint yet, and now he appeared like a ghost at Ceydran’s door, eyes wide like the moon. Ceydran didn’t want to help, didn’t want to get involved in the thing that made his brother snarl like a trapped fox. But that voice was like the sun on storm soaked sand, so Ceydran nodded, wrapping himself in the sheet. The shivers were subsiding faster than usual.

But they returned far quicker. His brother detailed the plan: a betrayal, a getaway, an unknown force looming from the water to his brother’s bidding. Being a beast was powerful in the right circles, but only if you could control it. His brother would claim to be the son of Posiedon, master of the sea, and Ceydran would whip the ocean into a fury at his command. After they had sufficiently scared the newly leaderless gang, the ocean would rear up and kill anyone who dissented to the Son of the Sea’s new rule.

“Why should I do this? I’ve never killed anyone, I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Oh, you can. I’ve seen you, you’re holding yourself back. Don’t you want to be free? Don’t you want to feel your own power, loosed on the world?”

He did. But he didn’t know how beautiful blood would be on the churning water, scarlet glistening against the grey. He didn’t know how easy it would be to summon a storm, how the clouds and sky would obey his command in tandem with the sea, a beautiful symphony of sharp water and terror. He didn’t know how simple it would be to spill one wave over the side of the boat and knock the men into the water, how easy it would be for one of those men to be his brother.

IS HE NOT SACRED, EVEN TO THE GODS, THE WANDERING MAN WHO COMES IN WEARINESS?

Death, even of gang members the police wish they could have killed themselves, is never viewed well when it’s at the hands of a Cryptid. Rumors fill the papers about a mysterious force in the ocean, one that can turn the tides around and command the sky to do its bidding. So Ceydran goes into hiding, leaving his childhood home all but abandoned, with the amount his father is around anymore. He gets an apartment with a view of the sea, close enough to run to the water if he has to, but it’s soon clear it’s too populated. He tries a lake in Michigan, for a brief time, but that was too obvious to the meteorologists, and he barely escapes the government convoy, climbing desperately up a cliff on the far side of the lake. So he becomes a wanderer, a homeless man staying close to the shore, equally called and repulsed by the reflection of the moon on the water. It always looks so accusatory.

The less he eats the more his control slips. The sea is inviting, with the seals and the fish, and the blood on his lips when he wakes, sand caked in his hair on the rocky shore. It gets dangerous, when a group of kids out to look for sea turtles find him instead. So he goes to the government. Turns himself in, in exchange for food and protection. From what, he’s not sure.

They watch him destroy an entire aircraft carrier in a crash of lightning and bloody foam.

“Impressive, but too aggressive. No subtlety, no agility. Shame, though, it’s awfully effective.”

He never was one for calm. Even a quiet sea churns underneath.

#*hook bio #oscar isaac fc #taken #abuse tw #violence tw

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