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#and it pops against the red clay
slu7formen · 29 days
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Luke will find any excuse to be next to you, even if it’s risky for your secret situation.
slu7formen’s masterlist | luke castellan masterlist
The sun beat down on Camp Half-Blood with the fury of a thousand fires, turning the asphalt paths into giant grills for slow feet and baking the cabins insides like ovens. Chiron, being the smart centaur he is and reading the campers tired and sweaty faces like a book, declared a day off. Now the beach, usually a chill place to be at, was now a scene of joyous chaos. Laughter and shrieks echoed through the air as campers splashed, sunbathed, and competed on swimming races.
Luke, however, walked in much later, his usual smirk plastered on his face. As he approached his spot that he shared with his friends at the top of a large rock, he found his friends sprawled like a pack of sardines, their bodies glistening with water and their eyes glued to the opposite side.
“What´s so interesting over there?” he asked as he placed his own towel and belongings on his spot, right at the edge of the rock.
"Interesting?" Travis Stoll drawled, his voice breaking. "That´s not-, that doesn´t even cover it. It's like the goddess of beauty herself decided to show us how perfect her daughters are"
"Goddesses, Luke" Connor Stoll sighed dramatically, almost drooling as he didn´t even turned his head towards his friend. "Actual goddesses descended from Olympus”
Luke followed their gazes, his smirk widening as he saw the object of their collective obsession. Across the shimmering expanse of the water, a group of Aphrodite's daughters had claimed their own little oasis down on the sand. They lay draped on plush towels like exotic flowers basking in the sun, their designer sunglasses reflecting the harsh glare.
Pink bikinis, strategically revealing hidden curves and glimpses of sun-kissed skin that whispered tan lines just waiting to be discovered. Satisfied sighs escaped their lips as they surrendered to the heat, their bodies molding to the soft embrace of the towels like warm clay. Their laughter, light and airy, drifted across the water, punctuated by the clinking of ice against glass as they sipped chilled fruit juice. Perfect, rounded cherry red lips, glossed with a hint of shimmering pink, seemed to hum a silent song of invitation to those who stared too long. Lips that begged to be kissed, to taste the sweetness of a handsome camper.
Soft pop music, like a flirty summer breeze, carried the melody of carefree days and endless possibilities. The air crackled with a tension as subtle as the scent of sunscreen and coconut oil that easily reached the boys´s nostrils.
"Pink," Travis groaned, his voice thick with mock despair. "Why is everything so pink?"
Chris Rodriguez, his eyes glued to the scene across the beach, barely registered his friend's complaint. "Shh, dude, you´re interrupting"
Luke, however, couldn't help but chuckle at his friend´s dramatic comments. He scanned the scene for a second before taking a seat on his towel – the plush towels, the designer sunglasses, the perfectly manicured nails, the hair shimmering with highlights. It was a picture straight out of a beauty magazine, for sure, but it was starting to feel suffocating.
"Do you think they ever breathe?" Connor whispered.
"Doubt it" Travis chimed in, finally blinking after what felt like hours. "They probably absorb sunlight and flower perfume through their skin"
Chris snorted. "They're daughters of the goddess of beauty and love, what can you expect? They're-…"
He cut himself off, his gaze landing on one figure in particular. A girl with hair the color of spun sunshine and eyes that sparkled like the Mediterranean Sea.
“…Gods, look at that hair”
"Guys, calm down" Luke said, despite the grin threatening to split his face. "They're just girls.” He pointed out. He would´ve stopped the conversation there if it wasn´t for his friends´s stares right after he stopped talking, all of them sharing that ´Are you kidding?´ look. “Well, okay, maybe incredibly beautiful, impossibly glamorous girls, but still just girls."
"Just girls, huh?" Travis scoffed. "Those are your average looking campers? They look like they bathe in rosewater"
Chris, still mesmerized by the girl with the sun-kissed hair, chimed in, "How do you even begin to approach something like that?"
Luke chuckled, watching their exaggerated reactions with amusement. "It's not that hard, you know," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe if you guys spent less time staring and more time talking, you wouldn't be so intimidated."
The challenge hung in the air, a silent dare for them to prove him wrong. Connor, ever the instigator, jumped on the opportunity.
"Alright, Castellan, if it's so easy for you, do it" he smirked. "Go over there and talk to any one of them, impress them, make them laugh, do whatever you need to do to avoid getting your ass kicked”
His brother chuckled. "Let the man have his delusions, dude. He´s not-“ He stopped mid-sentence, jaw dropping open in a display of cartoonish shock.
Chris, following Travis's gaze, mirrored his friend's expression. They all stared at Luke, their eyes wide with disbelief, as he strolled down the rock towards the group of Aphrodite's daughters with a —questionable— confidence.
"What the hell are you doing?" Connor yelled, his voice squeaking.
Ignoring his friends' stunned shouts, Luke descended the rocky outcrop towards the sand. "Castellan, you madman!" Chris hollered, his voice a mix of shock and admiration. Luke wasn´t nervous, not exactly. More like a mix of excitement and the thrill of pushing boundaries. His gaze focused on the girl that was declared as his target. You.
With your hair long enough to be braided with endless flowers, and eyes that held the sparkle of the brightest diamond, were oblivious to his approach, your attention consumed by adjusting the straps of your pink bikini, a delicate task that showcased the smooth expanse of your shoulders and the tantalizing dip of your back.
He gently placed his hands on your shoulders, the heat radiating from your sun-kissed skin was intoxicating, the delicate scent of coconut oil amplifying his senses. His fingers, strong and calloused, squeezed gently, sending shivers down your spine.
"Hey, princess" he said, his voice low and playful.
You turned around, smile blooming like a summer flower as you met his gaze. "Luke" you greeted, your voice laced with a hint of surprise.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked with gentle charm.
"Of course," you replied, patting the space beside you on the towel. “Thought you were only gonna stare all day”
“Why?” he asked, not exactly trying to play dumb.
“Let´s just say that they´re a little too obvious” one of your sisters said, pointing with her chin towards the other side of the lake, where Travis, Connor and Chris, still stared at the scene with wide eyes and parted lips.
“Yeah, well” Luke started. “The scenery is definitely something" he admitted, his gaze lingering on yours for a beat too long. "But I´m the one interested in company, not just staring"
One of your sisters raised her view from the magazine she was reading, an approval head nod towards your direction.
"Smooth, Castellan" you cooed, unable to hide the pink blush on your cheeks. "Well done”
Your conversation flowed effortlessly, a mix of lighthearted banter and teasing remarks that only you two fully understood. You spoke of your day as your voices dropped to hushed tones when you exchanged details of your recent secret night encounters, and reminisced about stolen kisses exchanged in the quiet corners of the camp.
He then reached for a slice of pineapple.
"Care for some?" he offered, extending a piece of pineapple towards your mouth.
"Thank you," you said, gracefully taking the fruit between your lips, eyes on him the whole time, still shining even under your dark sunglasses. His thumb caught a bit of your lower lip, secretly wishing he could taste your lips right there and then.
You leaned back, savoring the sweetness of the pineapple and the stolen touch of Luke's finger on you. His gaze held yours, along with a red blush creeping up his neck.
Across the beach, right on the other corner over a hot rock, the Stoll brothers and Chris remained frozen in disbelief, practically jaw slacked.
"D-did he just-?" Travis stutered.
"Touch her?" Connor finished, his own voice thick with shock. "Like they´re friends?"
"Friends?" Chris scoffed. "Is that how you think that friends behave? As if they-"
His sentence was cut short as a giggle, light and mesmerizing, drifted across the water. Their eyes darted back to the scene, where Luke and yn were now engaged in what appeared to be a lively conversation. Luke, the now notorious ladies' man and best swordsman, was leaning in close, his hand resting casually on her lower back. yn, the living proof of cabin 10's grace and beauty, was radiating amusement as her fingers made its way to Luke´s curls.
“Well…” Chris began. “He actually doesn't look half bad talking to her."
"Yeah," Connor conceded, his brow furrowed in thought. "But how? Since when do they know each other and get so-, touchy?"
"Maybe they share some extra classes together" Travis offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Like... 'Advanced Flirting Techniques for Demigods' or something."
As the boys focused more about Luke´s flirting technique and less on the girls, your conversation with Luke kept going on and on, still fresh as the fruits you were enjoying, and as exciting as the hot sun crashing into your skin like golden liquid.
"You know," you said, leaving a piece of watermelon back on its place as you whispered, low enough for only you and Luke to hear. "you're not supposed to be here."
Luke tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"
"You're not supposed to be talking to me," you continued, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Not after last night."
A slow grin spread across Luke's face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Last night was quite a night, wasn´t it?" he admitted, his breath tickling your ear. "Could you make it better tonight?"
You looked at him with confused eyes. His thumb began to draw circles on your lower back. "Tonight?" you said, feigning innocence. "Do we have plans? I hadn't heard anything about it."
Luke's grin widened. "Well, it´s not like I planned it" he admitted, his voice becoming casual. You knew he has lying, of course he planned it. "But I was hoping you might be interested in meeting again"
"Another meeting, huh?" you repeated, your voice dripping with curiosity. "What kind of meeting are we talking about?"
Luke leaned in closer to your ear. "Does my cabin sound familiar to you?"
Your heart hammered against your ribs, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. You both knew that sneaking out after curfew was risky, specially into someone else´s cabin, but the thought of spending another stolen night with Luke was simply irresistible.
“That could work” you managed to say. “What else?”
A playful and excited sparkle flickered in his eyes. "Bring something sweet" he whispered, a low rumble emanating from his chest. He momentarily eyed the untouched red strawberries. "Meet me by the west side after everyone's at the campfire. We can enjoy the view and then..." he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, his gaze dropping to your lips.
The heat of the sun seemed to intensify, mirroring the warmth rising in your cheeks. "And then?" you prompted, unable to resist teasing him a bit.
"And then," he leaned even closer, his voice barely a breath, "we can continue what we started last night."
Your breath hitched. The memory of his touch, his kisses, sent a wave of desire through you. You knew sneaking out was forbidden, a risk that could lead to serious consequences, but Gods, who cares?
"Alright, big boy" you whispered, a playful smile dancing on your lips before standing up, starting your way into the lake for your own heated situation. “See you later, then"
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d0youc0py · 9 months
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omg what about 🏜️ and ghost??
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“I’m never letting you drive.” You groaned. You dragged your feet against the red clay, reaching your arm around to feel for you water bottle.
“Fuck off.” He groaned from behind you. You could hear his own feet dragging. The mission had been a total disaster, you and Ghost getting separated from the rest of the team. You got wired a car and made the mistake of letting Ghost drive. He had drove both of you into a rock. A fucking rock.
“Oh, You fuck off.” You growled back mimicking his accent. You turned around when you heard him chuckle. “I’m seeing things.” You whispered softly. He stopped a few steps behind you.
He had peeled his mask off at some point, his black face paint had melted giving you the perfect view of his face.
“Don’t flirt with me, I’m not in the mood.” He grumbled pushing past you. As he passed you saw a whisper of a smirk across his face.
“Quite the opposite.” You mimicked again. He was handsome- and you hated it. You lifted your water bottle to your lips only for it to be empty. Your emotions came to a boiling point. You had been walking in the hot desert for six hours. You had heard enough jokes to fill a book. Your body was exhausted. You let your anger come out in the easiest way.
You screamed. Your own ears popped from the sound. It echoed through the canyon, and you waited for the yelling of a lifetime.
‘Are you fucking mental? Tryin to get us caught?’ You could hear his voice in your head. You were surprised he didn’t throw something at you.
Yet no repercussions came. His eyebrows raised, almost impressed with the volume you were able to get.
“Let it out.” He said, nodding his head. Your eyes widened- but you took him up on the offer.
Another scream ripped through your throat. This time a much deep yell joined yours. Both your voices echoed together- sounding quite nice.
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gripefroot · 4 months
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Cross-eyed and Tongue-tied
Follow up to this piece. Or rather, a prequel.
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“Aren’t you done yet?”
Only years of practice not being startled by Law’s habitual reappearances and disappearances keep you from jolting in surprise. That, and the sixth sense you’d learned, noting how the air changes right before he does his little tricks. 
Hunched over the pottery wheel that dominates your living space, you don’t flinch when he looms over to take a look at what you’re doing. The delicate work of slicing the tool through clay makes a pattern around the bowl sitting on the wheel, which took most of the afternoon. Only a few more minutes of decent sunlight remain, and they must be utilized. Your back hurts from strain, but that’s outweighed by satisfaction. Nearly done, but he can see that for himself. 
“I’m hungry,” Law adds, like that will finish your process faster. 
Teeth gnawing on your bottom lip, you don’t speed up at all. He knows how you work. His fussing is purely meant to set you on edge, you don’t doubt. 
“You can leave without me,” you offer. “I’ll catch up.” Only a few more times around the rim. With a deep breath you pull away, spinning the wheel to the next side of the pot. 
“Ha!” Law says. “If I leave without you, you’ll never come. You’ll probably find another pot to trim and get distracted making that.”
He has a point. The tool slices through the earthy-red clay, swirls for decoration that litter tiny shavings around the pot. Law leans closer, close enough for you to smell soap on his skin and hear his even breathing. He doesn’t put his hands on the wheel to brace himself, which is a mercy for both of you, because last time he’d done that, he’d been stabbed by the knife you’d been using and the platter had been sprayed with blood. 
“Looks good.” His voice is a rumble that sends awareness up your spine. 
“Thank you.” As far as you can go again. You turn the wheel. One more section and it’ll be done. Before you put the tool back against the rim, a sudden kiss on your cheek has you blinking, startled out of focus. “What was that for?” you ask, bemused. Glancing up for the first time to see Law grinning, his face barely inches away. 
“A bribe,” he says. 
“I’m almost done,” you tell him, crabbiness sharpening the words.
“And if we don’t leave soon, they’ll be sold out.” 
“You must think the market is a bustling metropolis.” Bending over for the final time, you sink the tool into the pattern to continue. No sign of a break shows in the clay. A smile grows on your face, pleased at the outcome. 
“Is it not?” Law asks. He still hovers. “My crew doubles the population.” 
“Your crew single-handedly provides enough economy to keep the town afloat.” 
Done. Setting down the tool, you slowly move the wheel around to admire the pattern in the bowl, snaking and criss-crossing through the red. 
“Pretty,” he says. 
“Complimenting won’t rush me,” you say. 
“But you like it.” 
“I love it.” With a laugh you stretch out your arms and back, the muscles protesting from overuse and tension. Law’s hands immediately go to your arms, rubbing in all the right places as a sigh and a moan fall from your lips. 
“I can sell your stuff if you like,” he says. 
“Huh?” The movement has made lights pop in your vision, shutting out your workspace as reality jerks you into the present. Work has a tendency to shut part of your brain off. “Sell it? Where?”
“Here and there.” 
Stiffly you rotate on your stool to stand, shaking out your arms and legs. Law doesn’t back up (he never does) but he does tilt his head to the side, regarding you up and down. Then he starts to untie the apron around your back, a feeble attempt to keep your clothes tidy every day. 
“Yeah?” you ask, amused by this offer. He loops the apron over your head to toss aside. “And let me guess. You’re going to upcharge for imports and make an astronomical amount of money, most of which will go into your pockets.” 
Law frowned, pushing the rim of his hat higher. “It’s not easy, trade,” he says. 
“It’s not easy being scammed by the man in my bed, either.” Most of the feeling has returned to your extremities. Enough that you tip forward on your toes to kiss that frown on his face, which eases into a crooked smile. 
“I’m not scamming you,” he insists. “I’ll take a small cut. Not even enough to compensate for the time and effort it’ll take, so I’ll be losing money.” 
“How very generous.” 
“It’s a perfect plan,” he says. “You can’t ask for a better negotiator than me.” “Here’s what I think would happen,” you say with a smile, reaching over to pick up the tray the newly-decorated bowl sits on to take to a drying shelf. A nudge into your rear from behind doesn’t break your concentration, lifting the tray and turning on your heel with a narrowed glare at Law, who shrugs like he’d done nothing wrong. “You’re going to upcharge the heck out of my wares and people will buy them because you’re scary and mean.”
“Maybe.” He follows you into the next room, lit by the sunset through the cloudy windows. The earthy scent is home, stacks of fired dishes and drying pots filling the space to the brim. With a heave you hoist the tray onto a shelf, brushing your hands after stepping away. 
“And then they’ll find out, eventually, that my products aren’t worth the price you charged.” Chin high, you regard Law across from you. Unrepentant, as always. He shrugs again, this time with a smile. “And who do you think they’ll take out their discontent on? You, scary and mean? Or the lady who made the subpar wares in the first place?”
Something flashed in his eyes. “They wouldn’t come after you.” 
“Prove it. My name is stamped on the bottom of every single item.” You wave your hand at the room. Labeling all the products with your name is more vanity than anything, as everyone on the island knows you and your name. How could they not? Every one of their tables bears your dishes. 
“Not your location,” Law says. 
“But my location isn’t a secret, either. Plenty of people from this island have moved away and would recognize my name in an instant. I’d expect an angry mob at my door within six months of you carting away crates to charge an arm and a leg for.”
He snorts. “I don’t need to charge for an arm and a leg.” 
“You know what I mean.” 
“They wouldn’t dare attack someone with ties to me.” He seems to believe it, too, because as he says it his shoulders straighten out, standing a little taller. Hot, but not entirely convincing. Law acts mean, but behind that brittle exterior, you know better. How no one else seems to notice the melty tenderness in his eyes is a mystery. It’s so obvious. To you. 
Then again, you wouldn’t want him as an enemy, either. He’s much better in bed. 
“This is silly,” you say. “Let’s go get dinner.” 
“I changed my mind.” 
“What!” 
A glint in his eyes betrays his desire. His intense desire. “Let’s go to bed early,” he says in a rough voice. A tingle has your toes curling, but you ignore it.  
“No.” Lips pursed, annoyance flickering but too tempered by fondness to go anywhere, you stomp past him. The house is getting dark, and you grab a coat by the front door. One arm in, then the other. 
“We can eat tomorrow.”
His voice in your ear makes you hiss, less equilibrated than you’d been while working. Why did he do this? Spring up on you without warning? He could walk like a normal person! 
“You’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry,” you tell him. 
“Promise I won’t.”
“I’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll keep you too busy to be hungry.”
“How did we arrive here?” Halfway out the door, you turn with a laugh bubbling out. Law looked so miffed in the indigo night, hunched over and surly. “Does it turn you on when we bicker? Is disagreement foreplay to you?” 
“So what if it is?” He pulls the door shut behind him. At the water pump in the front yard, you draw water to rinse your hands. Without a brush and soap it’s a cheap job, but works. Once your skin gleams you shut off the water, shaking your hands to dry. Law takes the steps down the yard one by one, gaze on you the entire time. Hands in his pockets. No coat. 
“If it is,” you say, pulling the collar of your coat tighter against the chill in the air. Autumn’s claws dig into the island, especially at night. How he managed in a barely-buttoned black shirt, you don’t know. “Then I can be nastier.”
He stops where he is. 
“Cruel,” you enunciate, but you can’t help smiling. “Absolutely villainous.” “Nah,” Law says, and resumes his way down the steps until he stops at the level of the water pump where you wait. “I don’t think you have it in you. How about you continue to be you and I’ll keep my thoughts about your mouth to myself?” 
“No,” you say. Wait a minute, shifting your weight, and then prompt, “Did that turn you on?” 
“You’re ridiculous.” But he smiles, shadowed by his hat. “Let’s go.” 
You loop your arm through his, though he didn’t offer it. “What were you thinking about my mouth?” you ask softly, and his barked laugh echoes to the stars. 
“Telling you would definitely constitute foreplay,” he says cheerfully. “Let’s save it for the walk back.”
Stars twinkled as the sky darkened, the worn trail to town only navigable by sheer practice. You could walk the path by memory, eyes closed and hog-tied. Leaning your head against his shoulder, his low hum tickles your ears. 
“It’s almost winter again,” you muse, pointing at a constellation just visible on the horizon above the sea. One that only appeared during the cold months.
“Are you going to move to town again?” Law asks. 
The cottage on the bluff is gorgeous in the summer, but winter winds from the sea tend to wriggle their way through the ramshackle windows and sagging walls. Cold hands make clumsy pots. Winters, for you, look like renting a room above the bakery to paint and fire dishes all winter in one of the baker’s ovens in exchange for new mixing bowls and jars for leaven. 
Winter tastes like fresh, hot bread, and aching loneliness. 
“Will you visit me if I do?” you ask. He rarely visited in the winter.
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “How thick are the walls of the bakery?” 
“Not thick enough,” you mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” 
“I don’t like the idea of the baker’s six children peeping in,” Law says. 
“The tailor says this winter will be mild, anyway,” you tell him. “I’ll chance it in my house.”
Ahead, the shining lights of the town appear between the slopes of the hills that, miles down, gives way to the sea. The track descends through dusty soil, scuffing into the air. The first houses of town are built in the hills, candlelight and firelight twinkling on either side as the path widens into a road and the noise of the market becomes audible. 
“We’re lucky to find seats,” you say to Law a few minutes later. Stools at the noodle maker’s are hard to come by, especially with visitors. But Law’s crew appears to be occupied elsewhere; some flirting with women across the street, some notably absent. 
“Are we?” he asks in a vague sort of voice. His tattooed fingers rub a pair of chopsticks together, as if seized by the sudden need to be busy. Barely visible beneath the rim of his hat, his eyes dart to his crewmates, narrow, and then drop to his hands. 
“It’s a nice night. Everyone seems to be out enjoying the weather.” After the long, hot summer days, people in the town emerged to have their fill of company. It’s the same in spring. Smiling, you tap your feet to the beat of a guitarist nearby playing a lively tune. “It makes me want to dance,” you say.
Law snorts. “Don’t say that to Sachi.” 
“Why, would he want to dance with me all night?” 
Any amusement Law may have felt disappears. “Yes,” he says in a stony voice. Lips twitching, you nudge him with your elbow. 
“Jealous?” 
“I don’t want to dance with Sachi,” Law deadpans.
“No, would you be jealous of him? If he and I danced all night?” 
“You aren’t going to dance all night with Sachi. You have a strict bedtime.”
“Since when!” 
“Since just this second.” Law’s further bickering was smothered in a polite smile as two bowls of steaming noodle soup were slid across the bar of the stall. Fragrant steam fills your nose, stomach rumbling in response. 
“Thank you, Saizu. It smells delicious.” 
The noodle maker beams ear to ear. You’d never once seen him frown. “Ingredients have been cheap lately,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. With no other orders, he’s inclined to chat. Law is disinclined; he starts to eat. “Ships to and from have been making their routes without getting harassed lately.” 
The broth tastes even better than it smells. Saizu’s best batch yet: whatever ingredients he’s been getting must be made by the gods. It’s a few moments before you’re composed enough to ask, 
“Pirates?” 
“None that I’ve heard of,” Saizu says. 
“I suppose I haven’t, either,” you say. Swallowing a clump of noodles, you turn to Law. “You’re the only one here that ventures out on the sea. Are there fewer pirates this year than normal?”
He chokes on his own noodles, a few splashes of broth hitting your coat. “Ahem.” He clears his throat. “Must be.” 
Saizu nods wisely. “A few of my bowls have been dropped lately. Can I put in an order for a dozen more?”
“Of course,” you say. “Matching design or something new?”
“Whatever you’re inspired to do. I haven't seen anything you’ve made yet that I don’t like.” His smile never falters, never hesitates. “But I will say, the last batch you gave me is my favorite yet.”
Saizu has always been one of your best customers. And most generous with compliments: while you and Law eat, he picks up a bowl from a stack and holds it to the light, pointing out the colors and details he likes the best. The black accents, the flecks of minerals shimmering in the fired clay. 
“I don’t know where you get your ideas for these designs,” Saizu goes on, tracing the ribbons of black around the base of the bowl. “Then again, I have the artistic abilities of a monkey.”
“Funny you say that,” you tell him. “Because I have the cooking abilities of a monkey.”
Saizu bellows with laughter. Law even snorts his amusement, finally coming up for air as the food in his bowl dwindles. Out of the corner of your eye you see him do a double take at the bowl Saizu still holds up to one of the hanging lanterns above the stall. 
“That’s your bowl?” he blurts. “You made that?”
You meet Saizu’s eyes. “Are you asking me or Saizu?” you ask. “Because it’s his bowl. I made it. He makes what goes in it.” 
“Are they all like that?” Law grabs his bowl of broth and lifts it, eyes widening as he sees the similar design on his own. He sets it back down slowly, though his knuckles have gone white. 
“Don’t like it?” Saizu asks. Heat rushes to your face, aware of the reason behind Law’s reaction. It was no secret to you that Law is your muse. But you’ve never told him so. 
“It’s fine.” Law’s voice cracks on the word. “Just fine.” He doesn’t meet your gaze, though you’re looking straight at his face. Before you can prod him for more, or confess, or something, a body straddles the stool on Law’s other side. And yours. Caged in by white uniforms. 
“Hi, Penguin,” you say. “Sachi.” “Hiya,” Penguin says. “Captain.”
Law grunts. Not entirely pleased by the company. 
“Good to see you again,” Sachi says. He’s on your side, facing you on his stool with significant enthusiasm. “Did you know Captain won’t drink out of anything but your mug?” 
How many months Sachi has been holding onto that tidbit of information, you can’t begin to guess. But the speed at which he says it suggests many. Raising a brow, you ask, 
“Is that so?” 
“Sure as I’m sitting here.”
“Yeah,” Penguin chimes in from Law’s far side. He leans toward the bar to see you, half-concealed by Law’s slumped shoulders. “I’m surprised he doesn’t sleep with it.” 
“Sounds chilly,” you say. Then, to Law’s defense, you add, “I didn’t know ships were the standard for dishware choices. How many mugs do you have to choose from that consistently choosing mine is so remarkable?” 
“We have one set,” Law says. “And I have one cup, thank you.” His glare for Sachi zooms past your face. 
Despite knowing Law for so long, he’d never commissioned you for his ships’ set of dishware. Gnawing on your lip, you remember, “You stole that cup.” It had been before dawn, over a year earlier, when you’d stayed in bed to blearily watch him dress to join his crew on his ship. He’d stopped at the door, plucked a mug out of a crate ready to be taken to the market, and left with it. 
Penguin gasps. “Captain! You didn’t!” “Her prices are really reasonable,” Saizu chimes in. 
“It was a memento.” Law pushes his empty bowl towards Saizu, who takes it. 
“Of what!” you laugh. 
Silence. Sachi breaks first into cackles, then Penguin, and then Saizu, clutching his belly for a laugh that echoes across the street. 
“Of what?” you repeat, leaning closer to Law. His cheeks stain tomato-red, casting you a look. “No,” you say in a hushed voice. Laughter tries to bubble out of you, face burning, but you clap a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling. 
“I meant to pay you back,” Law mutters. 
“Wow!” Sachi grabs your hand from your mouth, splaying out your fingers like some sort of zoo creature. “Your fingernails are really long.” 
“Yes,” you say. “I have no better tools than my own hands.” 
“Ah,” Penguin gives a wise nod. “That explains it.”
“Definitely explains it,” Sachi agrees. “We’ll be sure to alert the crew that there was nothing to worry about.”
“Do you mind?” Law grits out between clenched teeth. “You’re not on shore leave to spend the entire time harassing me.”
“They’re harassing me,” you assure him. Then to his crewmates, “Explains what?” 
Law grabs his cup to down water, as if the action will hide his blush. It doesn’t. 
“Why Captain came back last time with his shoulders and back all torn up,” Penguin says. “I could’ve sworn he was attacked by a wild animal. Bepo said he lost a duel with a tree branch.” 
Water sprays across the bar. Law hacks and hacks, face turning even redder. Penguin thumps him on the back several times before Law pushes him away. 
“Oh,” you say. The prickling danger of Law lashing out is a cold tingle down your spine. As embarrassed as you wanted to be by this topic of discussion, the best course of action was clear: diffusement. “Are you sure that was me and not someone else?” you ask in a light voice. 
“No, ma’am,” Sachi says. “You’re the only one.” 
“What makes you so sure?”
Saizu wipes down the bar from Law’s spat water. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything about the conversation, or the mess it’s making. 
“He rolls his eyes if we tease him about women favoring him anywhere else,” Sachi says.
“We mention you and he swaps our ears,” Penguin adds. “Sachi’s look terrible on me. Even worse than they do on him!”
“Hey!”
“Hey, yourself!” 
“If you’re jealous that Law has something of mine and you don’t,” you interrupt. “I have a few dog bowls I can send along.”
Law’s cough turns into a choking laugh. To Saizu he says, “If I tell you these two hooligans are pirates, will you run them off for me?”
“Ha!” Saizu grins. “Your whole crew is so good-natured I wouldn’t believe it for a minute. Best merchants in the North Blue.” 
The rest of your broth has chilled with the dropping evening temperatures. But you down it, anyway, smacking your lips together as you drop your chopsticks in the bowl. “Thanks again, Saizu,” you tell him. “And sorry about the highly-inappropriate interruptions.” 
“It’s not every night I get a free show,” Saizu says, eyes twinkling. 
Law slams a handful of coins on the counter. “Keep the change.” Saizu chuckles, and sweeps them into his pocket. 
“I don’t think that pays her back for the cup, Captain,” Sachi says. 
“Go kiss a sea sponge,” Law retorts. Twisting on his stool, he hops down in your direction, fingers curling over your wrist. “Let’s go.” 
“Good night, Saizu!” you call, already dragged away from the warm lights. Law is mightily determined when he chooses to be. “Bye Penguin! Not with tongue, Sachi!” 
“You!” Law hisses when the noise of the market was fading behind you. 
“Me?” you ask indignantly. “You stole my cup! And you never paid for it!” “I thought you noticed!”
“I did!”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” 
Away from the main market thoroughfare, the night was dark, and darker between buildings and houses. Law stops in his tracks outside the baker’s, where only a faint light could be seen from upstairs where the family lived. You squint to see his face better, backlit by the market lights. 
“I forgot,” you admit. 
“You forgot,” he repeats. 
“Yes.” Another rush of heat rises from your neck to your face. “Call me crazy, Law, but when you’re around my mind is on other things than a missing cup!” 
His eyes close briefly. When they open again, they’re gleaming, fastened on your face. His intensity makes you squirm more than Sachi and Penguin’s teasing had. He’s standing near enough that your neck cranes upward. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you lift your chin to meet his eyes. 
“I’m glad you took it,” you say. “That way you won’t forget me.” 
“Forget you?” Law’s laugh is low and rough. After a pause he adds, “I’ll take the dog bowls. Add them to my tab.” 
“Oh, you have a tab now?” 
“Don’t I?” 
Mulishly you scuff your shoes in the dirt. Nose crinkled with unwillingness to relent. “I’ll require down payment,” you tell him. 
“Oh?” 
“It doesn’t have to be cash.” Gnawing on your lips, and glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, you tack on, “Does getting your mouth and tongue all over that cup remind you of me?” 
“No,” Law says. “It doesn’t talk back.” 
“Look who’s talking.” 
“I don’t tongue it. That’s weird.” 
“Tongue me, then.” 
“Take off your pants and I will.”
“Oh, yeah? Here and now? Where a few dozen people will be walking by in the next fifteen minutes?” 
“I’ll do it,” Law says. A shiver goes up your spine. The rumble of his voice is difficult not to believe, the breadth of his chest only a whisper away. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. Lower, now, he continues: “But you have to tell me why you’re putting my tattoo designs on soup bowls and selling them.” 
Ugh. You should’ve known that would come back to bite you. 
“Because I think about you when I’m making pottery,” you tell him. Any hint of shame, he’d sniff out. Any suggestion of insecurity, and he’d pounce. He tended to do that, skirting around conversations as if they were battlefields. You’d learned long ago that the appearance of surrender brought him closer. 
His brows raise, as if shifting through the meaning behind your confession. “Is that the only time?”
“No. I think about you a lot.” 
Most of the time. Almost always. Life didn’t often require your full attention: making pots and bowls and platters was as mindless as folding laundry. And your singing chases birds away. Filling your mind with memories of the past or hope for the future with him kept the hours of dragging on too long. 
“So.” Law’s fingers reach out to brush against yours, but he doesn’t take your hand. Not yet. A breeze tickles his shirt, fluttering the short sleeves and the hem. How hadn’t Saizu noticed the similarities between his precious soup bowls and the exposed swirls on Law’s chest? You could draw the patterns in your sleep. “About this down payment.” His half-smirk blooms into a grin. He must have liked what you’d said. 
Tipping forward on your toes, you smile up at him. “What do you have to offer, Trafalgar?” 
He shrugs. “My body, mostly.” “Best merchants in the North Blue,” you laugh. “Saizu thinks a lot of you. And here you are, offering sex for dishes.” 
“I know what you like,” Law says. His fingers press into the inside of your wrist before skating higher, slipping beneath the sleeve of your coat. “I have strong negotiation power.” 
“I know what makes you cross-eyed and tongue-tied,” you counter. “My negotiation power is just as strong.”  
He grips your arm, tugging you along as he walks backward into the darkened alley. His smile is briefly lit by the market lights before blackness swallows him up. A moment later, and you’re swallowed, too. 
Without warning you’re pushed against a stone wall, the gasp of surprise swallowed up by Law’s mouth covering yours with unerring accuracy. His hands are all over your front, his mouth devouring. And you yield: your fingers clutch around his neck, tickled by his hair escaping from his hat. 
“Mmm,” resonates from his chest. Your hands slide down, finding his hot skin every inch of the way. Beneath his collar, over his shoulders. The night isn’t so chilly with his body snug against yours and heat building between your legs like a furnace. 
A burst of laughter escalates from your middle to your throat and out of your mouth. Law gives a grunt of displeasures when he pulls away. “What’s that for?” he asks roughly. 
“I didn’t realize I scratched you up so bad,” you admit. “I’m sorry. Especially since your crew has been giving you a hard time.” 
“You’re giving me a hard time.” His lighting quip is punctuated by his hips angling into yours. Not willing to be drawn into a discussion of his crew, then. 
“Oh, my,” you coo, still on the verge of laughter. “That feels uncomfortable. Are you suffering?” 
“Immensely.” 
“And after one kiss?” 
“One - ” Law nearly croaks. “I’ve been fantasizing about this all day. Don’t you remember?” 
Vague memories from his interruption at your pottery wheel and verbal foreplay surface in your mind. Gripping onto his shoulders, but with the pads of your fingers instead of the nails, you hum, nodding. “You may have mentioned it,” you say. Pinned in place by his body, you tip forward to find his jaw with your lips. “Once.” A kiss. “Twice.” Another. “All-freaking-day.” Down to his throat, where you bite the flesh near his Adam’s apple. Law’s laugh vibrates through your mouth. 
“Your fingers are ice,” he says. He wraps his own, much warmer, much larger fingers around yours, pulling them gently away from his shoulders. 
“Don’t tell me you’re shy now,” you tell him. 
“I’m not. I want to go home where you can get warm enough not to make my balls shrivel up from these icicles.” Brows raised, he makes his point by rubbing your fingers together between his hands, warm blossoming like a summer sun-kiss. 
Home. Home. He thought of your house as home? 
Law stops rubbing your fingers. “What’s with the look?” 
No weakness. He’ll sniff it out. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s a long walk back, are you sure you’re up for ten minutes of chastity?” 
Amusement flicks his lips upward, then long-suffering stamps them back down. Mouth drawn in a line, Law drapes a long arm around your waist until your chests are pressed together like clay, ready to be pinched together to be sealed for eternity. A leap in your chest causes a gasp, his eyes sparkling like dark diamonds as he studies your face. 
“Hmm,” he says. 
His mouth descends on yours. And sometime during that kiss, the building behind you isn’t blocking the wind anymore; but a brisk, sea-breeze sizzles through your clothes to pop goosepimples up and down your skin. With a shriek you jump in Law’s embrace, cheeks stinging with cold. Above his head, the moon shines. No longer blocked out by the bluffs protecting the town, or the town itself; a harsh, pearly light. 
“I hate it when you do that,” you say, but it’s a half-hearted complaint. He’s warm and you’re not: you snuggle in closer to his chest, putting your cheek on the top of a black whorl immortalized in Saizu’s bowls. 
“I know.” Lips send more warmth from your scalp to your tippy-toes. “That’s why I do it.” 
“And that’s your romantic way of trying to earn a long, cozy night of lovemaking?” 
“I think I clinched that back in the alley,” Law says. “If not three years ago.” 
Little prick. You set your chin on his chest to glare up at him, but he only grins unrepentantly back. He’s right and he knows it. That’s what’s so insufferable. 
“Carry me inside and we’ll see,” you say by way of negotiation. 
His grin widens. “Actually,” he says. “I have a better idea.”
You catch on when his arm becomes a vise around your waist. “Law, no!” 
But it’s too late. The night sky spins in black and moonlight and starlight.
175 notes · View notes
howaboutcastiel · 2 years
Text
I Can't Help Myself (Part 1, Jake Lockley)
OH GOD ITS EXPLICIT, MINORS GET OUT
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Summary: Jake accidentally touches a cursed artifact while on a mission. The consequences span a couple of days, leaving you and all of the moon boys in a pretty interesting dilemma. (Part 1 of 3)
Word Count: 3.9k
Content: Sex pollen. SMUT. Like honestly filthy, kinky, unapologetic smut. Oral, PIV, rough sex, multiple orgasms, probably other stuff I’m forgetting. 
Author’s Note: Based on a request. I took the vagueness and turned it into pretty much a vast novella of porn. You’re welcome. Also... proofreading? What the hell is that?
Update: Part 2.
It took a few hours to set in. 
Neither you nor Jake had thought much about the unassuming clay lamp, which you had transported from some smugglers Khonshu had ordered you to take down. Jake carried the lamp by its handle, two fingers wrapped around the thick clay strap and his thumb on the side for support. He was only holding it for a couple of minutes, but that was enough. 
You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. When you made it back to the apartment, Jake’s hands were all over you, but that was normal for him. It was normal for you, too, and you were worked up yourself just as much as he was.  
“Mi vida,” he cooed in your ear as he ran his hands down your back to cup your ass, “You’re fucking beautiful.”
“So are you.” It was true, he looked ravishing post-mission. His hair was disheveled as well as his clothes, and his cheeks tinged red, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and lust. “So pretty, baby. I need you.”
He pressed his lips into yours, grinding his hips lightly against your core. Jake was already forming a visible bulge underneath his pants. The pressure felt desperate against you and he forced your lips apart with his tongue. Desire grew inside your chest, clouding your thoughts as you stumbled against each other in the entryway. 
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake groaned into your mouth, barely pulling away. “I can’t get enough of you.”
You mewled as he rolled his hips again, gripping your waist so his arms were partly supporting your weight. His fingers squeezed around your skin, forcing you to buck up against him as light pain shot through your asscheek. 
“I’m all here, babe.” You assured him. The two of you were ever-so-slowly creeping closer to the kitchen, unwilling to separate long enough to walk properly in any direction. “All yours.”
You returned your mouth to his, nibbling softly on his bottom lip which elicited a high-pitched whimper from the back of his throat. One of his hands shot up from its spot on your rear, instead snaking into your hair and tugging. Your own hands were thrashing at his shirt, exploring his chest and fighting the fabric that separated the two of you. Jake’s dick twitched in his pants as your thumb grazed his nipple. 
The back of your thigh hit the kitchen table as you continued to venture backward. Nearly losing your balance, you pulled on Jake’s shirt for support and a choked groan traveled from his lips and into yours. Suddenly, his hands were clenching the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling upward. 
You raised your arms so that the fabric could come off over your head. Jake broke your kiss only long enough to remove the shirt, returning with even more fervor than when he’d kissed you the first time. You had to gasp for air when he finally migrated to your jaw, sucking and biting the skin. 
“Jake, come on,” You pleaded breathlessly, “Please.” 
Words were hard to form in your brain. You fumbled with the button of his pants fruitlessly and he jolted at the grazing contact. 
“Dime lo que quieres,” he murmured. Tell me what you want. 
You finally popped open the button, allowing his cock some breathing room. He sucked a hitched breath as you pressed your palm against his length, wrapping your fingers around the fabric covering it. 
“I want you inside me.” You pleaded. Your other hand found its way to the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. “Fuck me, please.”
“Of course, cariño.” 
Without warning, he grasped both of your arms at the shoulders, turning you around in one quick motion and pressing his back into you. The move stole the air from your lungs, so there was no sound of protest as he again latched onto your neck and curled two of his fingers underneath the band of your pants. 
Jake hummed against your neck as his fingers brushed over your clit. You tried weakly to rut up into them, but your legs were pinned between him and the table. His hand ventured lower and your slick coated his fingers as he pressed curiously at your entrance. 
“Hmm, so ready for me already,” he smiled against your skin. “Perfect.”
He turned your head to plant one last tender kiss on your lips before pushing you forward. You held out your arms to brace the impact of your chest and face into the tabletop, the wood ice-cold on your nipples even through the lace of your bra. 
“Jake—” You gasped as he pulled your leggings down past your ass cheeks to your knees. He’s not usually this rough. Not that you were complaining, though. You relished the thought of him leaving marks and bruises up and down your body. “Honey, please.”
“Shh.” His voice was teasing and drunken as he again swiped his fingers through your slick. You heard shuffling behind you and your whole body shuddered as you felt his now-free cock poking against the skin of your ass. He was so painfully hard already, and you had just gotten started. Jake hardly took the time to prepare you with his fingers before he was pushing the tip into you. 
A stifled cry erupted from your mouth as Jake pressed his hand to your shoulder, pushing you into the cold wood. His grip was tight enough to leave a bruise and maybe even break the skin if his nails touched the surface just right. You heard him groan from deep within his chest as he quickly bottomed out. 
“Ah, God.” You choked on your own breath. He was pressing into you with nearly all of his strength. It was intense, primal and unhinged. It wasn’t a far cry from how Jake normally fucked you, but it wasn’t the same, either. 
Heat and electricity bloomed inside your core as he set a deep, desperate pace. It took only an inch or two of shifting your weight for the tip of his dick to hit that spot with every heavy thrust. Whimpers and groans and little hitched breaths fell into your ears. You wished you could see him falling apart as he fucked you into the table. 
You elected not to hold back your own sounds of pleasure as your orgasm began to slowly build. Part of you wanted to pick yourself up off of the wooden top, to feel the heat of his chest against your back and to snake your hand backwards into the thick mop of curls on his head. You couldn’t move, though, with his arm holding you firmly against the tabletop. Instead, all you could do was clench your fists around the table’s edge until your knuckles were white and press your ass backward into his hips. 
“I want to be closer to you.” You murmured deliriously into the maple. He barely registered your voice. Not uttering a word, Jake moved his right hand over top of yours, lacing his fingers between your own and squeezing. His other arm didn’t move from your shoulder, but he loosened his grip considerably. Jake’s hips were beginning to falter in their pace. 
You tensed around him and attempted to force your free hand between your stomach and the table. There was barely enough room for you to do so, the angle and pressure making your fingers sore almost immediately, but you didn’t care too much about that. You were chasing your own high, not blind to the physical warning that Jake was close to cumming. 
With your fingers working rhythmically with Jake’s increasingly sloppy thrusts, the coil inside of you tightened quicker than it had been before. The combination of the fullness, the deepness of his thrusts and the contact of your hand, you were chasing your high at an unmatched pace. You felt your orgasm growing closer and closer and you allowed yourself to enjoy the unfettered whines and moans that were slipping from the man behind you. 
His dick stilled as he reached his peak, and you frantically rubbed at your clit in an effort to cum at the same time as him. Rapidly clenching around him, you toppled over the edge as he spilled his load inside of you. 
Electricity ran up and down your entire body, branching out like a lightning bolt and tensing your muscles against your will. A thousand stars bloomed in your vision as you squeezed your eyes shut, a whining groan escaping your lips. 
Jake let out quiet pants as he gathered his breath. He dropped his arms as he backed away and you felt yourself becoming limp against the table, which was now slick with sweat. There was near-silence behind you. You took a moment to collect yourself, the roughness of his grasp and thrusts now settling into your bones. 
“¿Hermosa?” His voice was small and almost meek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” you breathed with a lazy, reassuring grin, “that was a lot more intense than I’m used to.”
He bent down to meet you at eye level as you still hadn’t moved from where you laid. You felt that if you tried to stand back up, your knees would buckle underneath you, so you continued to let the table support the upper half of your weight. Jake’s eyes were soft and pleading. 
“I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” Okay, that statement needed to be amended a bit. “I mean, maybe a little bit. It’s alright, though. I don’t really mind. I would have stopped you if you did anything I wasn’t okay with.”
“Are you sure?” He was worried. The idea brought a pain to your chest, but also the bubbly inclination to laugh. “You don’t need to spare my feelings. I want to know if I crossed a line or something. I don’t want you to be in pain.”
“I’m okay, babe. I promise.” You reached out to him lazily and he took your hand in his. “I love you, alright? I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fine. I need you to help me get to the shower, though. My legs feel like Jell-O.”
He smiled softly as he grabbed your waist, gingerly coaxing your torso upward and supporting your weight as you once again stood upright. Jake pulled your legging back up over your hips, allowing you to walk comfortably to the bathroom with his arms helping to hold you up. 
“I don’t really like not being able to see your face.” You heard yourself mumble as he turned on the shower. He raised his eyebrow and shed his shirt as you unhooked your bra. “I like to watch you. You look pretty.”
His eyes were lidded so much that he almost couldn’t keep them open to look at you, and they crinkled shut as his face grew into a smile. A soft chuckle escaped Jake’s lips. 
“Noted. I sure don’t mind looking at you, either. My beautiful princesa.”
You held the vanity for support as you shed your leggings and underwear. Jake held your hand for support as you stepped over the tub. The hot water stung at first, but it coaxed a warmth down to your bones that eased the ache of the soon-to-be bruises he had left on your skin. He stepped in behind you and pulled the curtain shut. 
“You mind if I do this for you? I imagine your arms must be pretty sore.” Jake’s voice was almost a hum, the worry melting underneath the steam. 
“Not at all. Just be gentle.” You were grateful for his offer. He began to lightly graze your skin with his palms, trailing from the tops of your shoulders down to your wrists, then snaking his hands across your torso. You sank into his touch, the ginger massage working perfectly in tandem with the hot water to relax your tense muscles. 
That’s when your recognition of his different mood evolved into a suspicion that something was wrong. Jake’s hands explored your body a little too excitedly, still gentle as he had promised, but obviously suggestive. He reached up to cup your breasts, rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. His pupils were dilated and, against all logic and basic principles of anatomy, he was growing hard again. Quickly. 
“Jake?” You were worried now. It wasn’t that Jake Lockley had a low sex drive by any means, but this was downright excessive. Plus, you were tired. And sore, and confused. He tried to kiss you again, but you pushed him away when his tongue ran across the inside of your mouth. 
“What’s wrong?” He wasn’t in his right mind. He was delirious with lust, quite literally.
“We just got finished, why are you like this?” You gestured down to his dick, which was almost at a full erection again. “How are you like this?”
“I dunno,” he almost slurred the words, his hand tightening on your breast as the other one cupped your cheek. “You’re just so gorgeous. I can’t help myself.”
“Honey…” You didn’t know what to say. Hot coals seemed to sizzle in your lungs and the water suddenly burned against your skin. “This isn’t normal.”
His eyes widened a bit. You weren’t sure if Jake was even able to process your words. He looked drunk. Or high, or something else entirely. His face contorted in almost lazy concern. 
“What does that mean?” He asked flatly, “Is there something wrong with me?”
“I don’t know. It’s like you took viagra or something.”
He snorted, dropping his hands from your skin. You could still feel his cum running down your leg, your body not angled quite right for the water to wash it away. 
“I can assure you, I didn’t.”
“Then what else could it be?” A thought rammed itself into your brain as you uttered the question. You had heard of the legend of sex pollen, but the concept seemed too ridiculous to be true. What was the purpose of such a curse, anyway? But the pieces fit too perfectly. Jake had been the only one to touch that lamp, you hadn’t even come near it. Khonshu had been vague about the artifact, seemingly on purpose. Perhaps this was why. He didn’t want you backing out on the mission. 
“I think you’re cursed.” He laughed, blowing off your idea. You grabbed his face in your hand. “I’m serious, think about it. There was that lamp, right? On the mission. I think it was cursed and you touched it. And now you have the curse.”
“What, a curse that just makes me all worked up?” He scoffed, “That’s stupid. Why would someone curse a lamp to make you horny? Besides, I think I can handle that.”
“Can you? We don’t know how long this will last, and you’re obviously not in your right mind. This doesn’t sound good, Jake.”
You let him think it over as you made quick work of finishing the shower. As you turned off the faucet, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, walking hastily out of the room. 
“Where are you going?” You called to him.
“To verify your theory. You stay here.” He shut the door behind him, leaving you to dress yourself for bed in the bathroom alone. You heard frantic babbling from him through the door. 
“Did you know about this?” He must be talking to Khonshu. You couldn’t see or hear the old bird. “You didn’t think to warn me not to touch the damn thing? The fuck is wrong with you, man? What else do you know? How long is it gonna last?”
You pulled your sleep shirt on over your head and exited the loo. Jake was on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands and an obvious tent still peaking up from the towel. 
“What did Khonshu say?” You asked tentatively. 
“I’m gonna kill him, I swear.” Jake groaned. “He said it should only last 24 hours. Only. Huh. How am I supposed to survive until then?”
“We’ll figure it out,” You assured him. “But we can’t do that again.”
He nodded defeatedly at your reference to him pounding you into the kitchen table. By now your body was adequately sore and sleep tugged at your eyes. You couldn’t have him manhandling you anymore, especially with the magical predisposition to chase his pleasure above yours. It wasn’t Jake’s fault that he couldn’t think straight, but it was your problem. 
“Okay, babe,” you ponder aloud, “Why don’t you try to relax and I’ll take care of that for you. Then maybe you can calm down enough to go to bed.”
“You sure?” He asked shyly. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. I did this to myself, I guess.”
“Jake, I don’t feel like that. I want to help you, okay? Now take off the towel and try to relax. Lay down, baby.”
“Okay.” He nodded and pecked your cheek before you pressed him down into the mattress. He preemptively balled his hands into fists, grasping the sheets to steady himself as your fingers grazed his thigh. “Thank you.”
“Shh, relax.” You wanted to coax him further into the obvious care-free state that the curse had given him. You knew that before long this predicament would prove to be a hindrance more than just a spicy inconvenience for him, so you wanted him to let himself go as much as he could for now. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I don’t want you to hold back those pretty sounds. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? You just gotta relax.”
He nodded in understanding. His eyes were squeezed shut and his fists were balled up, but you watched as he deliberately relaxed most of the muscles in his body. His cock twitched as he released the tension in his thighs. Contentment crept onto his face and he exhaled shakily, his chest calming into an even rise and fall. 
“Good boy.” You hummed. Planting kisses on his thighs, you brought your palm to cup his balls, the other hand grazing below his belly-button. He struggled to stay still in response to the contact, sweat beading on his forehead and neck. He looked so beautiful and desperate.
You squeezed delicately, drawing a deep and whining growl from his throat. He looked down at you pleadingly and you returned his gaze with reassurance and determination as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. 
He jolted slightly, but Jake successfully stopped himself from moving too much as you pressed your tongue flat against his head. You would normally grow aroused just from sucking him off, but there was enough worry in your gut to keep your vagina from having its fun. It was probably for the best, as your bruises were already going to be pitiful-looking come morning. You doubted you could get any pleasure from Jake right now without adding a few more.
You swirled your tongue on the underside of his dick as you pressed the pads of your fingers in circular motions on his sack. He continued to whimper underneath you, his fists abusing the sheets as he desperately, desperately tried to do as he was told and keep his legs and chest relaxed. You pulled off of him with a low pop. 
“Doing so good, honey.” You assured him. His cheeks flushed pink as you wrapped your palm around the base of his cock and returned your mouth to the tip. His legs tremored. 
“I’m trying to stay still.” He whined. Jake’s mind was having difficulty with logic and coolness. All that the curse allowed him to think of was desperation and heat and yearning. He was fighting a losing battle, trying not to move. His rational thoughts were underwater in his brain, held below the surface by a primal driving force with magical strength. “Dios mío, se siente tan bien.”
You removed your hand and hollowed your cheeks, sinking down as much as you could. His cock twitched in your mouth, bumping the back of your throat. Jake mewled and thrashed at the sheets. You had to hold his thighs down. 
“Jesus—fuck!” He could hardly keep his composure as you swallowed around him. As good as your gag reflex was, he was a lot to take and you were too distracted to focus entirely. Your mind was more tuned to watching his movements. You wanted to see how well he could follow your directions and if the curse was in control of more than just his libido. 
Pulling off halfway, you set a fairly quick pace that matched the movement of your hands. While you continued to massage his sack and bob your head, your other hand explored his hips and thighs, leaving goosebumps wherever it trailed. There were tears in Jake’s eyes—of pleasure or frustration, or both, you couldn’t tell. Regardless, he looked breathtaking, crying and whimpering and thrashing lazily at the covers of his bed. 
Your brain wandered off as you continued your rhythm and periodically took him all the way into your throat. For a moment, you even forgot the predicament he was in. You forgot about the events leading up to now, and the consequences that would follow you into tomorrow. All that existed was the current moment. His cock filled your mouth perfectly and his desperate, pleading face blessed your eyes as much as his whines blessed your ears. 
He jolted his hips forward, causing you to choke. 
“S—sorry… close,” he muttered. Jake was having difficulty forming words, though his mind was entirely warped by the curse. “Baby, I’m close.”
You continued your movements, persisting until it was obvious that his body could no longer stay relaxed. Swallowing his load was a bit harder than you had anticipated, but you tried your hardest as the hot, white liquid spurted into your mouth. When you got the chance to open your eyes again, Jake looked absolutely wrecked. Luckily, he looked much too exhausted for another round. 
“That better?” You asked him softly, getting up off of the floor to lay beside him on the bed. He nodded, entirely breathless. “Good. I’m gonna get you some boxers, okay?”
You headed over to the chest of drawers underneath the bedroom window. Grabbing a pair of patterned boxer-briefs, you returned to the bed where Jake hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed and his breath was even and calm. 
“Honey?”
No response. You weren’t sure if he was asleep or just far off in the contentment of his own head. Tentatively, you ran the back of your hand up his chest and to his neck before cupping his chin. 
“Time to go to bed, baby. Come on, make room for me.” He stirred a bit without opening his eyes, a tired look of protest contorting his face Jake used as little strength as possible to pull himself up on the bed and over to the side enough for you to slip beside him. “You gonna sleep on top of the covers?”
“Mmm.” He responded, again not moving. You tsked as you grabbed a throw blanket from underneath the bedside table and tossed it over his chest. For modesty, if nothing else. It wouldn’t surprise you if Khonshu liked to watch the boys while they slept. 
Exhausted as all hell yourself, you passed through the apartment to quickly turn off all of the lights before crawling under the sheets beside him. 
Almost instantly, you were asleep. 
--
--
@rmoonstoner @moonmoonboys not sure who else to tag tbh. don't worry babes, part 2 is cumming soon
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Text
Creature Comforts (Raphael x F!Tav)
Tav is a working girl at Sharess' Caress, and she's Raphael's favourite.
Soft smut, bath sex, mild body worship, mild touch starved Raphael, soft(ish) Raphael, mentions of prostitution
AO3
-
“The devil’s asking after you,” said Mamzell, holding a metal bucket of ice and a bottle of wine for Tav to take with a sly smile. “Paid in advance.”
“Of course he is,” sighed Tav fondly. Naturally the wine was the most expensive Sharess’ Caress had to offer. Rich and dry with a lingering, burning aftertaste; just like the devil who drank it. Tav climbed the stairs to his room was the usual warm anticipation bubbling in her belly that she’d come to expect by now when she met with him. Bad business, she knew, to be fond of a client – especially one so dangerous. Yet every time he asked for her, she went to him. It would come back to bite her one day, but Tav had always been a glutton for punishment.
Pushing open the door, his room smelled like the rose petals scattered on the ground, the heat of hot bath oils, and the ever-present undercurrent of smoke and fire he could never quite hide. Tav quietly shut the door behind her. He was in the bath, with the water up to his chest as he rested his arms on the bath’s rim, his head lolled back. He was facing away from her as she entered, but she didn’t doubt he was aware of her presence.
“You started without me,” she said, feigning disappointment, though she didn’t have to try very hard. Watching him carefully undress was always an enjoyable experience. Especially when he stared her down the entire time.
“The water was simply too tempting to resist,” he hummed. His delicious voice held the thickness of indulgence that deepened its cadence and set her blood alight beneath her skin. “Fret not, darling. I haven’t done your job for you.”
Tav laughed, well aware there was no chance of that happening. He was here to be pampered. She approached the bath, setting down the ice bucket. When the bottle clinked, the devil rolled his head so he could look at her. His cheek pressed against his bicep; a stray lock of hair escaped his otherwise immaculate coif. His big brown doe eyes were as arresting as ever, even with dark circles beneath them.
“Hello, sweetling,” he said.
“Hello, Raphael,” she murmured in reply. She cupped his face, stroked his refined jaw. He leaned in to her touch. He seemed more tired than usual. Tav wondered what kinds of infernal intricacies were going on to drain him so, then decided she’d rather not know. He wouldn’t tell her even if she asked. She wouldn’t ask; an unspoken rule. “Drink?”
“Please.”
Her fingertips dragged slowly across his chin as she walked away to fetch glasses. Raphael popped the cork and poured them both a generous amount of burgundy coloured, fruity scented wine. He took a deep draught. Tav watched the bob of his throat when he swallowed, supping on small sips herself. She liked the wine, but too much made her head spin. She needed to keep it clear around this devil. She put her glass down and sat on the bath’s rim, close to him. The silence was comfortable, charged. She knew this dance; they had performed it many times already. The water was incredibly hot when she dipped one hand in, to the point of discomfort, but that was alright. A puddle in her palm, she coasted it over one broad shoulder of his, liking the way droplets scattered down his tawny skin. She kneaded his muscle, memorising his soft exhale.
“Shall I wash your hair first?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
Raphael handed her a small clay jug. She filled it with steaming murky water. “Close your eyes,” she said, waiting until he obeyed her, keeping his drink at safe distance, then she gently tipped the water over his head and neck. His hair darkened as it saturated; quite a fetching look, Tav thought. “Soap?”
“Mm.” He offered a block of dark red and umber that smelled of cherries and pepper. He always brought his own things from the Hells, something Tav privately found amusing. They were clearly pricey, better than even the highest quality luxuries that Sharess’ Caress offered. Of course Raphael would settle for no less, her Hell prince. The soap slid like liquid silk in Tav’s hands as she wet it and began to lather up the devil’s soft hair. He felt good beneath her hands; good to spoil. She coaxed tension from his temples, gently scratching her nails across his scalp in the way she knew he liked.
“Long day?” She asked.
“More prudent to say long month, I think,” he responded lazily.
“Ah. That’s a sentiment I definitely understand.” Using the jug again, she rinsed the soap from his head. “I finished the book you lent me, by the way.”
“What did you think of it? I’m curious. What’s the phrase? ‘Copper for your thoughts’?”
“A whole copper? Generous.” Raphael’s chuckle was barely more than a rumble. Tav nudged him to lean forward so she could start soaping his neck and shoulder blades. She was not ignorant to the way he pressed into her touch. “I liked the story, but I found it hard to feel sympathetic for the Count of Darkness the way the author probably wanted me to.”
The devil perked up, as he tended to do when discussions turned philosophical. “And why is that, little dove?”
Tav’s slippery fingertips trailed into the divots of his spine. “Difficult to root for someone who kidnaps and seduces a married woman because he feels like he’s entitled to her, with his only excuse being she may or may not be a reincarnation of his dead wife. No matter how charming he is.”
Raphael’s response was impassioned. “Is he not entitled to her? What of his passion, his love? His broken, lonely heart? Centuries of isolation he endured, his beloved so viciously stolen away from him, only to discover he may have a second chance at life with her again…why should he not reach for her?”
“She was already married, for a start. She loved her husband.”
The devil tutted. “None could know her or love her as the Count could.”
“Of course you’d say that. Poor Mr Harker would probably beg to differ.” Tav was more amused than anything. Raphael was responding exactly as she knew he would. “Well…I suppose the Count did have a nice castle. Real estate is in shambles these days, so Mina could have definitely done worse in that regard.”
“How pragmatic of you,” Raphael drawled. Tav laughed as she finished washing his back.
“I’m a simple whore in a chaotic world. It’s taught me to be pragmatic.” She stood and observed him for a moment. Wet, glistening tawny skin, honey-brown eyes smouldering, sharp jaw set. He was devastatingly beautiful.
“Have you no care for romance, Tav?” He asked, voice airy despite the weight behind his question. He drained the last of his wine and set his glass aside.
“I think you and I hold different definitions of romance.” They weren’t talking about the book anymore. She decided the conversation was over. “Shall I wash your front now?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds, expression unreadable. Tav wondered if he’d press the issue or not; he didn’t, perhaps too content or lethargic. “That depends. Are you going to join me?”
“Hm…” Tav pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “I’m not sure. The perfume I’m wearing right now is quite expensive, you know.”
“I’ll buy you a dozen bottles, sweet dove,” he promised.
She had no doubt he meant it. She smiled, sliding out of her clothes. They fell into a pile at her feet. Raphael devoured her with his gaze as she stepped into the bath, opposite him. His eyes consumed one length of long, lithe leg at a time as she made herself comfortable, stretching out so her legs were either side of his hips, the soles of her feet resting against porcelain. The places where their bodies touched burned hotter than the water. He watched her in loaded silence as she settled, staring blatantly at the dusky peaks of her nipples and the pretty warm flush travelling across her cheeks, neck and chest. No one made her feel wanted quite like him.
Soap in hand again, she pulled his left leg across her lap, rubbing lather into his knee, shin, and the heavy defined muscle of his calf. Had she not felt the way he relaxed like melted butter, his deep sigh would have given away how much he was enjoying her touch. When he bent that leg so she could rub his ankle and foot, she caught a glimpse of another growing sign of his enjoyment amidst the sloshing soapy water. The sound he made when she pushed her thumbs into the arch of his foot made butterflies burst to life in her belly. He didn’t look away from her the entire time, eyes half-lidded. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. What he was allowing her to do.
His other leg received the same treatment, but instead of moving to his gloriously thick thighs, Tav splayed her hands out on Raphael’s belly and slowly slid them up, ghosting the grooves of his abs and the trail of hair that disappeared below the water, then his sternum, resting her fingertips there for a second to feel the strong thumping of his heart. She circled his pecs; flicked her thumbs over his pebbled nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Ah…”
Unable to resist, Tav swallowed his gentle vocalisation with a kiss. He tasted of wine and smoke. His thin yet plush lips were like hot velvet against her mouth as he fiercely returned her kiss, coaxing her tongue out so he could suck on it. This time it was she who groaned, fingers curled, nails digging small crescents into his flesh. He brought her closer with one hand between her shoulder blades, his other squeezing her hip tight enough that she was sure she’d have finger-shaped bruises. Water spilled over the bath’s lip and onto the floor; the only sound besides the sticky smacks of their sloppy kisses. Like that, Tav could feel the entirety of his hard cock pressed between their stomachs. She wriggled a soapy hand down and squeezed it, tugging from root to tip. She bit at his mouth, greedily feasting on his gasp.
“Are you ready for me?” She whispered into the humid cavern behind his teeth.
“Always,” he growled.
With practised familiarity, Tav guided the head of Raphael’s drooling cock to her folds, swollen and slick despite the water. She teased them both, just a little, grinding against him enough so that his glans bumped her clit and felt the enticing heat of her entrance. She liked to see his pupils expand and eclipse the sweet brown of his irises like black holes before she sank onto him completely. He rested his forehead on hers as she worked him inside, grunting when he was fully sheathed. She gripped his biceps, he her hips, and they stared at each other; then she moved. Rolling her hips slow, lazy, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the way his cock nudged sensitive spots along her inner walls. His rutting was equally lazy, and it didn’t take long for them to find an easy rhythm. Her breasts slid over his soap-slick chest, jolting her entire body each time her nipples brushed his. It was good.
Raphael licked the seam of her lips, dotted scorching kisses across her chin, her jaw, the spot where her pulse thundered. She tilted her head and sighed when he sucked a mark there, that precious vulnerable place. “Be mine, Tav,” he purred darkly into her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. “I would give you everything you wanted, every claim and castle, any luxury in life you desired. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”
“You can’t tempt me with contracts, Raphael,” sighed Tav, breathless as the pace and strength of his thrusts increased, changed to fit his mood. They were making a mess of the bath water now. “You know that.”
“Then what can I tempt you with?” An edge of frustration lingered in his voice. It showed itself in the rough way he swiped at her clit with two fingers, making her cry out and arch her back.
“Something…mmm, something you’re not ready to offer me.” In retaliation she leaned forward and bit his nipple. The overwhelming floral musk of soap in her mouth was worth the spitting curse he released, worth the flash of claws she felt digging into her flesh.
“Stubborn creature. You have yet to tell me what that means,” snarled her devil, fighting to regain control.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Their coupling grew frantic, a chasing of release, using each other’s bodies to find it. With Raphael ruthlessly fingering the stretch of her cunt around his cock, prodding the wired nub of her clit when he felt the urge, it was Tav who reached her climax first. The throbbing coil in her womb unfurled; she let her head fall back, mouth open, groaning out his name. He watched her ride her orgasm intently, the harsh clench of his teeth and wild desperation in his eyes giving away that he’d been waiting for her. For this. The fluttering squeeze of her walls milking his cock and the almost-reverent way her lips shaped the syllables of his name were too much; Raphael emptied deep inside her in spurts, jerky thrusts, and a strangled staccato groan. His rapture made for a truly handsome picture Faerun’s greatest artists could only dream of painting.
They basked in the afterglow for a while. Tav washed the lingering suds from him; he watched as she washed herself, cleaned his seed from her sex, his only contribution to the endeavour a hungry, possessive look of debauched satisfaction. She would smell like cherries for hours. Eventually he climbed out of the bath as Tav reclined, finally letting herself to finish her drink. He dried and dressed himself meticulously, off to go where devils went and do what devils did. Prim and orderly about his appearance despite the messy way he’d fucked her not long ago. Aloof and back to business despite the way he’d been so pliable beneath her hands. Tav was very fond of him indeed.
“Do you want your book back?” She asked him when he’d tightened his cufflinks.
“Keep it,” he replied, more refreshed and put together than he’d been when she arrived. “Perhaps one day you will read it again and your viewpoint will change.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed.
Raphael smiled at her then, just a small quirk of his lips, ambition and determination sparkling in his pretty, disarming eyes. She may have won this battle, but the war was far from over. “Ta-ta for now, little dove.”
He clicked his fingers and disappeared in a burst of fire and infernal magic. He’d be back soon; despite everything, Tav looked forward to it.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
“Heartslabyul’s Annual Valentine’s Day Tea Party”
| 02.13.23 | 0.7K | Rated PG |
Riddle Rosehearts X GN!Reader
Characters 18+ | Fluff | Soulmates | Poetic | Proceed with Caution, Beloved. |
T.Manor.Notes: YAY! I poured my heart and soul into Riddle’s!! Happy Valentine’s Day, Beloved!
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RULE 500: SOULMATES MUST PREPARE THE ANNUAL VALENTINE’S DAY TEA PARTY TOGETHER. NOTHING SHOULD BE MISSING, NOR BROKEN, AND MUST BE MADE OUT OF THE FINEST SILK, CLAYS, METALS, AND CLOTH. ZERO SUBSTITUTIONS.
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His hands are warm. Firm, like that of a strong oak tree that you once climbed as a child, with its thick trunk and sturdy branches that held your weight then and you were certain that even in old age, would—could hold you know. Ageless yet aged so gracefully as warm sun bleeds through green leaves, warming your skin and giving into your childlike sense of wonder. What could possibly be beyond its leaves, beyond the twisting and winding of branches? You know the answer. The clear blue sky.
Spring is when the thread shines the brightest.
The crimson rope nearly glowing as you spend your days staring at the winding red that wrapped around streetlamps and swished and swayed between lovers who have already found each other. A string that never strays, and you know what lies attached, the special one waiting for you. Calling for you, with every winding of the thread, every turning road it leads you down.
His hands are warm, the string tied oh so tightly to his left pink, like a crimson ring, as your threads wrap gently around both of your wrists and hands. Palms pressed tightly together. The trolley jostles slightly, the bag you're holding swaying in your grip, once again becoming aware of where you were. Sitting upon plush velvet seats, as open-air danced upon your skin and shifted your clothing. The trolley is crowded, overflowing with couples, lovers—soulmates. Some married for years and some married recently. Others only just now finding their other half.
Soulmates.
That word often sends a shiver down your spine, as your glance at the one who sat beside you, who silently gazed at his phone, staring at the checklist of all the things we needed. You glance at the large paper bag that you hold, filled to the brim with decorations. The small trolley once again rocks your shoulder and brushes against his, yet he remains unfazed.
The checklist had all the items needed for the Tea Party. Most of which you acquired, having run around all the Queendom all morning until early afternoon, hand in hand like children in a candy store. Eyes bigger than their stomachs as they stocked up on sweetest delights. Yet with no one to wave a finger in your face and scold you. You both strayed from the checklist slightly.
“You seem quite deep within your pool of thoughts.”
As if someone had popped your balloon, you snap out of your thoughts, shaking your head wordlessly. “Is something wrong?” Soft gray eyes that reveal so much to you. Concern, curiosity, love. All of each in which he wants you to see.
“… No. I was just thinking.” He tilts his head further, brows furrowing together, yet he doesn’t speak, merely observing you. Watching you gather your thoughts in a way that would make sense, he squeezes your hand. A subtle motion, but one that has your shoulders relaxing almost instantly.
“We’re soulmates..” It comes out as a breathless laugh, as if dawning on you, that your soulmate was none other than the Riddle Rosehearts.
“… We are…” There's hesitance, yet not of regret or dislike, but of embarrassment and joy. The apples of his cheeks turn a soft pink, as he does a quick glance to your hand—his hand—hands entwined. He thinks to move for a moment, his palm pulling away. You won’t let him. The action startles him, a gentle clap sound following as your reposition your hand closer, tighter than before.
“Your hand is warm.” He mutters under his breath, eyes moving away from you, as you blink.
What could possibly be beyond its green leaves, beyond the twisting and winding of branches? Beyond the red strings that followed closely behind as you climbed, higher and higher and higher. As you swat aside leaves, feeling branches scratch your cheeks. You knew the answer, yet it’s different. There are clouds. White fluffy clouds that slowly crawl against the blue sky. It’s different, yet—
“I'm happy… that we’re soulmates…“ There’s a breeze that blows, dances across your face, and ruffles your clothing, that makes Riddle’s words seem like a melody you have oh so long to hear.
And it is better than you expected.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited
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keyaho · 25 days
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p. a witch in the plan
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summary: every year the Tribal Chief makes his rounds around the different territories under his control, his family’s control, for decades. The scent of betrayal had made it’s way to him and he was going to weed it out before it had a chance to grow. during a trip to the hargrove conservatory, the Chief makes a discovery that changes everything. 
story themes: a/b/o dynamics, paranormal fantasy themes (shifting), romance, dom/sub relationships, werewolf lore, daddy kink (eventual), yandere!Roman, violence, dark themes (physical violence, racial slur usage, gore imagery, ect,) not your average werewolf pack and not your average werewolf story. 
warning: this story is not for minors under 18 years of age. 
He’d been standing in front of the large windows, looking out into the dark night as Cecelia Hargrove recounted financial statements to him. The Hargrove Conservatory for Omegas was just south of the Anoa’i Reservation. It was a place for the more, weak members of families. Orphaned, cast out, this boarding house had fed, clothed, and housed hundreds of Omega’s and never once did was the Headmistress questioned. Until now. 
She was standing on the side of the desk, flipping through pages like she had been asked when a hard knock popped her ears. She fumbled with the papers in her hand and resigned herself to opening the door when they fell to the floor. 
“Chief,’ Jey, one of Roman’s most trusted Betas, stomped into the room. 
There was mud on the boots, but not just any mud. Red clay. Cecelia swallowed and couldn’t keep her eyes off the floor where the red clay had stained her white fur rug. 
“You should come see this,’ Jey looked to Roman with an expression of anger. 
“It can wait,’ Cecelia said while going back to the desk. 
Unbeknown to him, her palms were sweating, the shirt she wore was suddenly too tight, and her nevers were on edge. Just as she spoke, thunder cracked the sky and a downpour splattered against the windows in an inconsistent, but pleasing, sounds. 
“We’re almost do-’ 
It was rare Jey cut off Roman when he was speaking. He held too much respect for his Chief to ever do so, but what him and his brother, Jimmy, found was going to make the Tribal Chief just as pissed at they were and there was no way they were going to let him leave without seeing it. 
“It can’t wait.” Jey looked to Cecelia. “She might cover it up as soon as we leave.” ‘
“There is nothing to cover up,’ she argued, though lying. 
That the Alpha could smell. Mingled with her lie was fear and they both smelled disgusting on her. HIs eyes flickered to Cecelia’s face. She avoided eye contact with him until a growl rumbled in his chest. He folded his thick arms across his chest and Cecelia unknowingly licked her lips at the move. Roman was an unmated and untamed Alpha, one of few in the region. He was muscular in all the right places, tall, with beautifully tanned skin. It was also noted how much weight he carried. As most Alphas were, he was very well endowed. 
Roman crossed the room, stopping only when he was toe to toe with Cecelia. 
“You want to tell me first?” He asked. 
“Chief, just go look. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” Jey stood at the door, arms crossed.
Sparing Cecelia one last glance, and chance to speak, Roman strode towards out the room. He followed the mud tracks until he came upon the back door. Attached to the kitchen, it led to one of two courtyards. As soon as he stepped from under the awning, the rain beat against his body, soaking his his before running down his neck and shoulders, his shirt sticking to his skin. He followed the sound of hoarse cries, until he broke through the shrubbery. He’d seen a lot in his life, but this was by far one of the more infuriating scenes he’s witnessed. 
Clad in only dirty panties and an over sized shirt was a woman he hadn’t seen before. Her prided himself on knowing all the girls that came through the conservatory, but she wasn’t ringing any bells. Jimmy was struggling with her. Her eyes swollen shut, mouth caked with dried blood, cuts along her thighs and legs. Upon further inspection she looked as if she had been whipped. The black shirt she had on was ripped. 
“What the fuck?” Roman hissed. 
The alpha took a step towards them, aiming to help, when he suddenly stopped. His head lolled back and he worked his shoulders to loosen the sudden tension in his body. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he knew the meaning. 
“Get her inside.” 
“She’s chained to a post.” Jimmy pointed to the puddle of water. 
He grabbed a rock and threw it in and they both heard the faint thud as it sunk to the bottom of what he thought was a puddle. It was a hole. 
“Was she in there?” 
“I heard screaming over here, then nothing. I ran over and saw the top of her head. I had to yank out the pole,’ he points behind him, ‘these chains are old and rusty, I need a key to open it. I don’t want to crush her wrists.” 
“Help me,’ she choke, vomiting water and whatever was left in her stomach. 
“Get her inside.” 
Jimmy managed to snap the chain from the pole with his hands before he scooped up the crying woman in his arms. As he passed Roman, he was clasped on the shoulder by his Chief. 
“Prepare her ready for travel.” 
⧫⧫
He prided himself on his restraint. His caution. His respect for women. However, that pendulum had swung back, just the way his hand struck Cecelia in the face. Sprawled out on the floor of the basement, Cecelia spit out the blood pooling in her mouth. Roman stood there, bloody hands tucked into his wet jeans she pushed herself to her hands and knees. 
“I gave you a chance,’ he bellowed mercifully. “You had the opportunity to tell me what Jey found.” 
“I-...i’
“If it hadn’t rained, I would have never known, then you would be explaining a death.” He clicked his tongue across his teeth. “I wonder how you would explain that.” 
“It wasn’t my decision to leave you in charge, and that was a mistake.” He grunted, boot swiftly connecting with Cecelia’s side. 
She flew across the floor and her back slammed into the cement wall. 
“That’s only a fraction of what you deserve, Cecelia. Get her up!” 
Jey and Jimmy both worked to bring Cecelia to her feet. They held her up as Roman walked over. His expression was dark, frightening, and unreadable. She whimpered under his gaze. 
If only it hadn’t rained! 
“Code of conduct dictates I handle this one of two ways. You are exiled and replaced. The other is death.” 
Cecelia began pleading for her life. Begging and apologizing. She didn’t want to die because some girl couldn’t drown fast enough
Roman’s was a strong man. Tales of his strength spread all through their community, but so did his anger and rage. There were very few things that could anger Roman to the point of violence, especially against a woman, and when his anger flared, no one was safe. Poor Cecelia had no idea what she had gotten herself into. 
However, he chose to show a hint of mercy. 
“Fix the money issue and run.” He growled. 
Cecelia’s eyes widened at the grace he had shown her, but he quickly snatched it away. 
“I want to give you a head start, because Solo is going to hunt you down like the animal you are and bring me your hide.” 
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mlmxreader · 2 months
Text
Death Do Us Part | Alfie Solomons x m!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ "I just... I thought that you would always be mine" + "You will never not be a part of me"
[I don't have specifics but could you make this one angst? Heavy angst is totally fine btw] ❞
: ̗̀➛ The trenches are not somewhere that anyone wants to be, and what happens at night is worse than what happens during the day.
: ̗̀➛ graphic depictions of death & injury, swearing, eaten alive, rats, eye gore
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
The sounds coming from No Man's Land would forever echo against the tall wooden graves; burial sites of a land once flourishing and blooming with life, now scarred and wounded with such great cuts that could never heal.
Trees that were once beautiful dark greens in summer and would happily rest with nests on their powerful arms, were now barren and black and smelled of rot and decay. Nothing lived anymore.
Bushes did not grow fruit, spiders did not spin webs, birds did not sing. Nothing lived anymore. The sounds were made up of loud groaning mixed with screeching; sometimes the squeak of rats could be heard as they bit down on achy eyeballs and chewed through the soft, popping flesh.
Hoards of them would gather at night, feasting upon the soldiers who were injured and left on the battlefield; their deaths would be slow, eaten alive from the stomach and out of their backs and through their spines until their bodies gave up. It was a slow, terrible way to go.
Amongst the trenches, it wasn't much easier. Ticks and lice infested every man, regardless of if they were alice or dead, and food was constantly in short supply; the soldiers took to frying their parasites over small fires, and still found their stomachs gurgling and gargling.
Many of them were malnourished, their faces sunken, and their eyes slowly being sucked into their skulls. Disease was rife and rampant.
The mud and the dirt and the clay managed to sneak in through clothes and boots with ease, and if a man fell into the designated shit pits... he would have to stay in his dirty, disgusting uniform. Nobody was having a pleasant time.
Alfie sat by the edge of the trench the entire night, weeping with his face buried in his hands; the hot tears cascading through his fingertips as his body trembled and shook. It was the closest he could get, his fingers and knuckles stinging and raw and red.
His head was pounding, and the snot trickling down his face was sticking to his beard. He could still hear you struggling. The wet slap of the mud as you tried to drag yourself closer to the edge of the trench, leaving behind a slick and sticky trail as your lungs started to get smaller and smaller.
Alfie knew it was his own fault. He had tried too hard and too much to protect you, and he had killed you. He knew that his hands would forever be coated in blood, smeared all over his tattoos and stained on his pale palms for the whole world to see and then some.
He had tried to protect you. He had failed.
He could still picture it as he wept, rocking back and forth without even realising it.
You were wearing his gas mask, as yours had been damaged by enemy fire and there were no spares; he had pissed on a cloth and held it to his face in hopes that it would prevent the gas from getting to him. It didn't.
His eyes still burned, and he still let a string of greenish yellow foam spill from his throat as he tried to seek relief. You struggled to secure the gas mask, and he was too late to reach you; he watched with wide eyes when the bullet tore through your neck.
The sound of your gargling as you hit the ground and struggled, and although Alfie did his best to find his way to you, he was ripped away by the commanding officer; Jamie was the Colonel, and had wasted no time and grabbing Alfie by the shoulder and dragging him away from you.
And now Alfie was here; listening to you die slowly as he wept and wished that he had never tried to protect you.
Maybe if he hadn't tried, it would have saved you and maybe it would have allowed you to live another day. It was all his fault, and he knew it all too well. It was his fault.
He would have to tell his mother; she would be devastated to hear that he had killed his husband. She would hate him and scorn him for it, and he knew it. Everybody back home would detest him for it, and he couldn't even bring himself to try and absolve himself; he knew that they would be right.
He had killed you.
"Stay down, Solomons!" Jamie called when he noticed Alfie tear his hands away from his face and shakily grasp the ladder. "He's a dead man, now."
Alfie glared at him, clenching his jaw tightly. "So bloody what?"
"So," Jamie sighed as he took a few steps forward. Missing a hand, his blue eyes were full of sorrow as he swallowed thickly and shook his head. Golden hair cut short. "There's no use in trying to get him back. He's a dead man, Solomons. We don't fight for dead men."
Alfie shook his head. "That dead man saved your life. He saved mine! He was mine!"
"I know," Jamie whispered. "Just let him be, aye? He won't last til morning - rats are gonna get him."
"Just let me bring back his body," Alfie whispered. "Just his fuckin' body. Let me at least say goodbye to him, for fuck's sake."
Jamie checked his watch, then listened closely for a moment before nodding curtly. "Five minutes. If Jerry starts the blitz again, you get your arse back in this trench, aye?"
"Yes," Alfie agreed with gritted teeth before hoisting himself over the ladder and slamming into the mud and onto his stomach.
With a groan, he picked himself up, and collapsed by your side; on his back, he pulled your hand to his chest, flipping you over and pressing his temple to yours as he sniffled. You were weak, hardly responsive and only able to groan.
"I just... I thought you would always be mine until we died," Alfie grumbled. "I thought we'd grow old, together... it was always fuckin' meant to be us against all the other cunts in the world..."
Your breathing got shallower, and when he slipped his finger down to your wrist, he wept softly.
"Know I fuckin' loved you," he continued with a trembling voice, "know that you will never not be a part of me... I will never fuckin' let you go, alright? You're always gonna fuckin' be with me."
You spasmed, and he frowned as he turned onto his side and kissed your temple gently; his hot tears against your slowly cooling skin.
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cyb-by-lang · 4 months
Text
Today's snippet (11/19/23)
This isn't strictly from the crossover, but more like an idle thought that embodies, "what might've happened if Obito's first attempt to get them back home missed the mark?" He's not being quite so reckless in the actual story.
Or: a brief snippet wherein Team Minato and Hayate accidentally visit "Akaboshi's defining tragic moment" and decide they have Opinions.
In hindsight, it was almost comforting how quickly everyone snapped into their roles. How quickly they went from relaxed, or nearly so, to the bared-teeth warnings that were just short of literal. 
Even in the moment, Hayate could practically hear the puzzle pieces slide and click together after that first breath of hot, offensively dry air. Wrong-uncanny-hate-it slammed through all of their chakra signatures at the same time. His sister’s team closed ranks around him like a wolf pack around pups, like the bars of a cage meant to keep night terrors out. Fire, Earth, Lightning, Water—and Isobu, burning as brightly as the sun and making it a little uncomfortable to stay too close. 
Past the protective forms of Kei’s friends and also his very jumpy sister, Hayate surveyed the scene as they talked. There was a warehouse—even more worn down than Gotham ones—dusted with a fine layer of clay-rich red sand. It reminded him of Sunagakure, whenever the sandstorms were a little less persistent, but in most other aspects, it could have been any random building in any random desert.
Still, a shiver ran down Hayate’s spine. 
“Okay, guess it’s my turn! See you in a minute.” Obito hopped to his feet and started investigating the immediate area, Sharingan glow visible even on a glimpse through his mask’s eyeholes. Then he slipped into the ground and vanished. 
“Kei? Kakashi?” Rin prompted, drawing a kunai from her thigh holster in clear anticipation of trouble. Her friends were unnerving her too. 
“Bomb,” Kakashi said after a cursory sniff, not even bothering to lower his mask. He’d locked onto the warehouse too. After a few quick strides to put him fully downwind of the building, he reported, “At least one, locally made. And blood.” 
“Oneesan…” Hayate began. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, muffling almost all other sound. 
Kei held out for about three seconds under Hayate’s and Kakashi’s combined stares. Her chakra hummed like a bowstring. All tension, no release. And then the question burst out: “Kakashi, whose blood?”
Kakashi sniffed again. Then, “Ah.” 
Alarm shot through Kei’s chakra before the others, and she met Hayate’s eyes with the kind of foreboding in her expression that confirmed every terrible feeling he’d had so far. 
“Yeah, ‘ah’ works for now. Fuck.” Kei stuck her Genbu mask solidly over her face, making sure the ties were tight. “Guess Akaboshi’s taunt was prophetic.”
Oh no—
“Which one?” Obito asked, popping back into reality. He ended up behind Rin’s shoulder, shoes crunching in the loose dirt and gravel. “Sorry, I didn’t quite make it over the hill there—”
“Rin, you’re in Kamui. Prep for surgery.” Kei didn’t quite snap at her, but the whip-crack of her command tone was firmly in place. While her entire team startled to attention again, “Obito, you’re the only one allowed in there with me. Be prepared to move two, if they’re alive. If we’re lucky, no one’s dead yet. Let’s keep it that way.”
Every word out of her mouth simultaneously keyed up Hayate’s anxiety and his anger. He swore he could see his vision pulse in time with his heart. “Oneesan, this is Aniki’s past, isn’t it? This is the story he told me. He’s in there—”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Isobu’s chakra poured out of her like smoke, turning deep red in places and lowering her voice to a growl. “Which is why I’m going in and taking the explosion to the face if I have to.”
“Then what about me?” Hayate demanded. 
“You and Kakashi are on the outside.” She held up a hand before Hayate could argue, rapping her fingers sharply against the bridge of Hayate’s goggles. “Watch for a certain white-faced escapee. Hunt the Joker down. Kill him.”
Oh. Some unnameable, hateful glee bubbles up in Hayate’s core. Oh, he could do that. He’d love to do that. 
“Of course,” Kakashi said, and began the hand seals for summoning every single dog who’d answer his call. They’d hound the monster, snapping at his heels and his calves and his face, and then he’d be still alive long enough for Hayate to get a last word in, right at the end. 
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slvthrs · 2 years
Note
I loved ur stoner fic with dream! Can we get like a pt 2 where reader and dream are now together? If not it’s okay, thank u and have a great day!
of course it's probably one of my favorite fics!!
STARGIRL INTERLUDE | dreamwastaken
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— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —
after you and your drug dealer start dating and he just can't help feeling just a little too possessive of you
DRUG DEALER!DREAM X FEM!READER
WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, use of drugs, relationship sex, degradation n praise kink, pet names, use of dreams real name, unprotected sex (use birth control idiots), choking, jealous/possessive dream, daddy kink, spanking
word count: 1.7k
authors note: this is a part 2 of my fic starboy and it's inspired by the Weeknd song 'stargirl interlude'
Me and Clay had been dating for nearly a month and we were planning to celebrate our anniversary by going to have dinner at his apartment but we both had to go to your friend's house for different reasons- I was there to support my best friend during her birthday party and he was there to sell drugs.
So cut to me currently sitting in front of my mirror doing my makeup- it’s was my everyday look of black smudged eyeliner but I added some shimmer on your eyelids to make them pop and added a deep red almost black lipstick to the middle of my lips and smudged it out- Clay’s favorite.
I fluffed up my hair and tried to find some sort of hairstyle to wear but I just ended up wearing it down. I was wearing a green plaid skirt with a black corset top- I was wearing a jumble of rings and necklaces along with a choker that looked a little too much like a collar. On my feet were platforms along with knee high black lace socks and to finish the outfit I was wearing Clay’s oversized leather jacket. 
I had finished my makeup and now I was sitting on my bed grabbing the stuff to put into my black purse- my phone, airpods, cigarette box, money, ID, lighter and my weed pen. That was when Clay walked into the room and looked at me with a sort of excitement, which I then realized was due to the fact I was wearing his jacket and just in general of how good I looked.
“Peaches” God I loved that pet name, he sat in front of me on the bed, “You look so fucking good” he sad planting a kiss on your lips,
I giggled against his lips, and he continued “Do we have to go out, I bet Chloe won’t even know your missing” he argued
“Babe, it’s Chloe. I’ve known her since forever c’mon we just have to make an appearance and you have people who expect you to be there” I say with a pout and then drag him off our bed and then plant a kiss on his temple.
He was wearing a white david bowie top along with boyfriend jeans in blue and some nike air forces. The outfit was completed with gold rings on his hand and a gold necklace around his neck. To put is easily he looked fucking amazing I ruffled up his blond locks a bit and planted a kiss on his lips and pull him out of the apartment. 
We end up situated in his car and I connect my phone to the aux and scroll through my spotify to find a good song but I just end up putting my likes on shuffled and it ends up on ‘Stargirl Interlude’ and I start dancing in my seat and lip syncing to the song,
“I had a vision, 
A vision of my nails in the kitchen, 
Scratching counter tops, I was screaming, 
My back arched like a cat, my position couldn't stop you were hitting it”
The lyrics just end up causing Clay to end up in a fit of laughter and I end up smacking his arms and asking him to stop acting like a middle schooler with fake offense in my voice, 
“Holy shit was is this song called” He asks while trying to compose himself, I just grin at him and tell him it's called Stargirl Interlude,
“Oh wait it’s like the song you made me listen to um what was it OH WAIT STARBOY” He exclaims and I just nod at him chuckling at myself, 
“So wait if I’m Starboy does that make you my Stargirl” He asks and I think about it, “Hrm I guess so, I’m your stargirl” he just laughs, “You bet you are” and then he kisses me
— — TIME SKIP — —
We’ve been at Chloe’s party for about 3 hours and both of us want to leave but Clay has one more thing he has to do so I just end up waiting for him while on my phone when a guy come up to me, 
“Oh hey I saw you from across the dance floor, you look really pretty” He says, he’s about 6 foot, shorter than Clay, and is wearing a black dress top and black jeans, damn nice clothes,
“Oh thanks” I saw with a friendly smile hoping to end this conversation
“I was wondering if I could get your number your just like really hot” Fuck this is going to be an annoying conversation
“Uhm actually I have a boyfriend so no thanks” I say trying to be as nice as possible
“Oh c’mon I don’t see him anywhere” He says trying to convince me
“He’s in the back and I’m seriously not interested” I say backing up but eventually hitting a counter
He keeps trying to get my number for about 3 more minutes while I keep telling him to stop until I meet Clay’s eyes across the room in front of the door looking like he’s about to hurt someone, and that's when I remember that it might look like something entirely different to him.
I maneuver around the guy and I run to Clay who is almost outside the door as I call out his name, “Clay just listen to me!” I yell and all he does is tell me is to get into his car
We just sit in the silence waiting for eachother to say something, we don’t say anything until we get into the apartment and as soon as the door closes he’s on me.
His lips smash onto mine as I’m pressed on the door and he’s pulling my jacket off, “I thought I was gonna go crazy seeing you flirt with him” He says as he pulls his lips off mine and onto my neck”
“Clay, ugh fuck, I wasn’t flirting with him” I moan out
“Fuck, I know baby I know but I need to remind you who you belong to got it?” He says it like it's a question but it’s a statement, a command and a promise.
He pulls me off the door and I’m bent over his countertop with him pulling of my skirt and my panties in one swift motion and smacking my ass causing me to yelp and he grabs the base of my neck making me look up at him into his eyes that have darkened with something more sinister, 
“I’m gonna make sure the only thing you can say after this is my fucking name, got it whore?” He says while slapping my ass again causing me to moan a ‘yes daddy’ under my breath
He takes his dick out, pumping it a bit and then running it through my folds and slamming it into me, gaining some of the most pornographic moans that have ever left my mouth.
He places his finger around the choker on my neck and then pulls my head back and then spits in my mouth, “C’mon whore swallow it” he says as his eyes narrow and darken
His hands don’t leave my neck instead they let go of my choker and now he’s choking me letting me see stars, it doesn’t take long for my orgasm to come crashing as I cum around his dick.
He pulls me off and then spins me around and picks me up and takes me to his room and places me on his bed but he doesn’t join me he gets up and walks to the living room to grab my purse and pulls out my weed pen.
He sits in front of me and takes two puffs of the pen and then pulls my mouth close to him and blows the smoke into my mouth, the mixture of the weed and the eroticness of the situation makes my head spin and I pull clay into a messy kiss still recovering from my post oragasm haze.
I climb on top of him and I rub his dick with my cunt making him moan in my mouth and letting me relish in the power I have. But it doesn’t last long until he’s pulling me off of him and pushing me on the bed and climbing on top of me to fuck me.
He lines his dick up with me and slams into me again causing me to tip back my head and arch into him, I claw at his shirt and he gets the hint and pulls his shit of but not before he pulls of my shirt and I run my hands up from his abs up to his chest and I start biting in hickies into his chest until I grab his hands and start kissing his finger and then put the digits into my mouth swirling them around with my tongue and sucking on them as if they were his dick.
I open my eyes to see him staring deep into me just watching as I suck on his finger, he’s so focused on looking and me that he’s stopped moving and is just staring, “God your such a whore for me aren’t you, your my little bitch” I don’t respond I just moan around him finger and pull them out with a pop!
He takes the hand I was just sucking on and brings them to my clit and starts circling it and continues thrusting into me chasing his own orgasm, I’m so close that my legs are shaking and I’m about to cry while he just places a kiss on my lips and continues his agonizing pace. 
He finally cums after I cum for a second time and pulls out of me rolling over and he gets up to walk to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean me up and then finally lays down next to me grabbing the weed pen, and doing a few puffs before he passes the pen to me letting me take a few puffs before I succumb to my tiredness but not before he kisses me and calls me “My precious girl” as he cuddles up next to me and we succumb to our exhaustion.
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ratstuckinamarble · 1 year
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All right, here's a Making Of/How To for the Tater Tyke, since it's been requested.
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I will try to explain everything as best as I can.
I'm sure you could use any clay, but I went with Super Sculpey specifically. An oven bake clay just gives you more control and time to work with it than air dry.
These are nine millimeters tall, so take a very small amount of clay, and form it into a smooth ball. If you want to make two, make one bigger ball and cut it in half, so you're left with about the same amount of clay for each Tater Tyke.
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Now roll them, gently, against your work surface to shape them into a cylinder, but make sure the edges have a soft transition.
Don't forget to use a reference!
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You'll see that he's a little thicker toward the bottom, important detail.
Next, I sculpted the mouth, for which I used this tool:
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I do not what it's called, it just came with the set I have. You don't need this one specifically, the flat, somewhat pointed end is what matters. With it, I pressed the shape in to make the teeth a little 3d, and then smoothed out whatever areas lost their shape a little in the process.
Now the body is done! Onto the limbs.
Starting with the feet, take a tiny, and I do mean tiny, ball of clay. I used my fingernails to press them into triangles, where they will end up being a little bulky, so press them a bit flatter.
You should be left with something like this.
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Repeat the same process for the hands, but make them slightly smaller, and rounder where the fingers would be, to form a teardrop-shape.
Now you can attach them. Apply a little liquid clay where they should go, which will function like glue. If you're using air dry clay, you can just attach them and glue them on more permanently after they've dried.
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For the position, the angle is a bit difficult to explain. I put the base of the feet just slightly closer together than the tips of the teeth, and made them point outward, so they're just sitting comfortably. For the hands, I pressed them a little more firmly on where the arms would be, so that they look more natural going out from the body, and made the ends of them go outward a bit more.
And that's it for sculpting! Let them dry/ bake, and then you can move on to painting.
First, cover them in white paint as a base, because yellow is always rather translucent. But do so carefully, acrylic paint can leave texture, which would be quite noticeable at this scale.
Now, the paint colors I used are primary yellow, vermilion red, white, black, ivory and lavender.
I mixed yellow together with just a little red, to be left with a light orange. This, however, was too bright, so I added just a smidge of lavender to dull the color out a bit. This is the base color, which I fully painted the little guys in.
Then, I made a slightly lighter and darker version of this shade, by adding a little yellow or red respectively. I took my crappiest small brush and stippled these colors on somewhat randomly.
I made one even darker shade by adding just a little more red, and the lightest shade by adding ivory.
I used these colors to force/fake the lighting. Add the darkest shade on the bottom and right side of the Tater Tyke, and the lightest shade on the upper and left side. Again, stippling them on.
I also used the darker shade on the base of the feet, and then highlighted the edges of them and the hands with the lightest shade.
Like I said, yellow-ish colors like this are always rather translucent, so they blend together quite well. But if something looks too harsh, just brush some of it away with your finger, that should soften the transition.
Now, once again using the darkest shade, take your smallest detail brush and add a line right under the mouth, to make it pop more. You can also outline the limbs like this.
Here are more pictures to hopefully help you get a better idea of everything I'm trying to explain.
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All that's missing now are the eyes and eyebrows.
For the eyes, I used a small dotting tool to archive that round shape more easily. I recommend trying this out on a different surface first, to get a feel for it.
If the eyes aren't perfect circles, you can push paint that juts out too far in with your fingernail, acrylic paint is pretty forgiving. Once they're dry, you can round out areas with your detail brush.
Use a smaller dotting tool for the pupils. I made them a bit cross eyed, because I noticed that in the show, and I think it looks cute. If you don't like the position of the pupils, wipe them off and let the remaining paint dry. Paint over with white again, and give it another shot.
Finally, the eyebrows. They're just a black line. Use your thin brush and reference the show. The eyebrows really influence the expression, so be careful. I recommend not placing them too high to avoid a spooked look.
That's it for painting! But we're not quite done. I covered them in a thin layer of Liquitex Matte Varnish, which really helps bring out the colors more. I painted most of them in a thin coat, let them dry for three hours, and then painted the areas I couldn't reach before.
But this varnish is never actually matte, so I also used a spray varnish (Molotov matte UV varnish). I bought it some time ago because it's the only one that seemed good that I could find for a decent price, and I like it a lot.
It dries fast and doesn't get moody depending on the temperature and humidity, and the results look great, in my experience. It leaves a very small amount of texture, which I like, because it makes my sculptures easier to photograph. My camera doesn't like to focus on anything too smooth. Im just mentioning the texture, because I'm not sure you'd want that for something like doll customisation. Especially because it can lighten colors if you add to many layers of it.
I was initially concerned about using spray varnish on something so small, but it wasn't an issue. i put the Tater Tykes on some aluminium foil outside, and put some rocks on it so it won't fly away.
Don't forget to wear protective glasses and a good mask! This stuff is toxic. That goes for any spray varnish, honestly.
And that's it! Really this time. Just let them fully dry and you've got yourself some adorable little fellas.
They took me around five hours to make, but that's mostly because I hadn't made something like them before. Figuring everything out eats up a lot of time. The process would go by quicker if I made them again.
I hope this helps if anyone is genuinely interested in making them, feel free to ask if you have questions. If you were just curious, I hope this was somewhat interesting.
On a final note, I'd just like to say that I'm really happy everyone likes them as much as I do, and I'm looking forward to making more doll accessories in the future.
Have a great day! And remember to drink some water, I seem to have forgotten to do so while writing this.
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geewintg · 1 year
Text
Serendipity in the Winds
Genshin Impact Wanderer (Scaramouche) x reader
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Synopsis: You were saved by a man who’s identity was hidden under a large hat. Though you forgot overtime and never remembered, a certain encounter at the hands of the fatui tapped an erased memory swept away by whirlwinds of what should have been forgotten.
Note: You are not traveler
In your childhood, there was a traveller dressed in flowing garbs of purple and red accents. Amidst the wreckage of the once-you-call home, he saw you sitting in the house reduced to ashes and burnt charcoal. The fire around crackled and popped with ardent ire for what is left to burn.
Everything's gone. The village. Your home. The people. 
Adults were slaughtered, kids were abducted, all livelihood burned in sea of flaming red. The aftermath of screams and metal echoed hollow in the silent wind. 
Everyone's gone, except for you. 
That's when you met him. A helpless child, you are, with no tears left to shed. You slept, clutching a wooden doll of what is left of your jubilant memories. 
"Poor you. Abandoned. Cruel is the world, isn't it?" The man had no face, but his voice dripped with surly mock as if he found it amusing. "There's nothing left for you here yet you cling to worthless things it reminds you of. So what are you waiting for?" 
You could only gaze up with no voice left to speak. A flurry of blue and red was all you could remember until you find yourself waking from a soft, warm bed.
~~
"Coming, Sir!" you yelled after the call as you hastily threw the white sheets over the string line to dry them. 
You lived with an old childless couple. They took you in after the catastrophe that fell over the distant, secluded village. The fatui raided the village. You surviving was a miracle. 
You could barely remember what happened. Cries of woe and the screams of desperate flee were the only clear-cut thing that rung your ears. Fire. Fire. Smoke and fire. 
Your parents hid you in a clay pot and covered you with heavy things, tucking you away near the root of a tree. Cover your ears, they said. When you got out, everything was...gone. 
Then a traveler dressed in flowing garbs of purple and red accents, a large hat covering his face. 
A traveler dressed in flowing garbs; face hidden away by the rim of his hat... 
A traveler with no face.... 
A man....... 
You blanked out at the raging bubbles of the tea broiled too much to liking. What were you thinking about again? 
Ah, yes, your old village. The old couple was shocked to see a knocked-out child on their steps, thin from shock and barely moving. You were dehydrated and severely famished. 
They didn't know how you managed to crawl your way through here. You didn't know how you got here. You just somehow...did. 
You frowned. 
There's no point in thinking of the past. What matters is you're alive and well. You could say it was the grace of your archon. 
During one of your errands, you came across a group of trees and decided to pick lavendermelons to roast for dinner's miso soup. But as you were reaching for one on a branch, a party of electro slimes emerged from the ground, surrounding the tree and trapping you in place. 
Oop... Well, you're screwed. 
The slimes don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon so you’re stuck up in a tree for a good while. You sighed to yourself. After quite a while, the shadow casted by the tree moves slowly and you’re getting worried of how you’re getting yourself out. It was a lost cause until you find two figures walking down the dirt pathway. 
You called out to them and managed to get their attention. Though, unfortunately, it seems it wasn’t the help you were looking for. 
Two fatuis. Both are armed against a poor defenseless you. 
The lean one covered with black and red nodded his head to his larger companion. They aimed for the slimes underneath you and rid of them easily. You gulped as you helped yourself down. 
“T-thank you,” you stammered even if you didn’t want to, and you can’t bring yourself to meet their gazes. “How can… how can I ever repay you?” 
“Should her do?” One of them asked and they shared a look that made your stomach drop. 
The leaner one grabbed your wrist and pulled you harshly. “Since we saved your life, it only makes sense if you pay us back with it.” 
If there was anyone who’d come across the same path moments later, they’d only see lavendermelons wasted on the grass. 
~~
“Walk,” they said. You did, with a gun’s muzzle at your head. 
You could only count the remaining days as you busied yourself staring at every rock you pass by on the road. 
“Hey, chief, this doesn’t seem the right direction.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“This place doesn’t give us any landmark on the map.” 
The sky already started to crowd with dark clouds and the orange sky was barely visible. The winds picked up and you three were all in the middle of nowhere in the trees. 
The “chief” growled and nudged you with his gun. “Hey, you know where we are.” 
You shook your head, cowering away, rubbing soothingly of where he shoved you. 
“You mean you live here and you don’t know where we are,” he remarked “useless bitch-” He grabbed you by the collar and you leaned your face back from the glowing red pupils gleaming past the mask, whimpering. 
“I-I don’t know!” 
This is it. Even the sky was ready mourning for you as it dropped its fresh tears on your cheek. At least, this way. No one would know your wets eyes. Your desperate yells and cries of help. At the very least, you wouldn’t look pathetic at the encounter of another fatui not like the first time you hid away and let everyone around you suffer. 
Maybe it was fate. You were supposed to meet the same fate as those in your village but you narrowly avoided it by hairbreadth. Now it came to take you that is long overdue. 
As he raised his other hand, someone strolled by. A man dressed in blue and white, hiding his face away with a large hat. His flowing garbs rode the cool passing wind like careless, unperturbed waves, much like he was right now. 
No, no! “R-run away!” 
But he acted like he didn’t hear you and continued walking. Before he could pass through, the bigger one of the fatui stopped him and pointed his machine. 
“Hey you!” the chief said, “Take us to an inn.” 
The short man paused. At that moment, you wanted to cry. Why didn’t he run away? It was so simple, so stupid. 
All the fatui does is ruin lives! 
“Two big, strong fatuis, asking me to be their chaperone,” he scoffed, “How amusing.” 
It was all like a blur. You laid on the muddy pathway, drenched in the rain all over, but you kept your eyes on the majestic figure that floats. A god? Is he a god? Your savior? 
Two bodies dropped on the ground with a sickening thud as they fell from a great height. But those weren’t the things that concerned you, you were more in awe of the man who graciously saved you. 
As he descended down, you took in all of his features. For once, you saw his face. Midnight purple hair and dark blue eyes. It was then when his feet touched the ground, you were deprived of his holy sight when his hat reappeared once more, shielding everything from you. 
You snapped from your stupor when he spared you his gaze. “I- my god. My savior!” You rushed to him and held the hem of his sleeves in a flurry of emotions. “Thankyou thankyou thankyou!” 
Your tears mixed with the light dose of rain drops but you could care less. All you care was that you were alive, safe, and breathing. 
“How can I ever repay you, my lord?” 
The look on his face was in the mixture of bewilderment then shifting to disgust. It was then you realized that you were getting his clothes soaked. 
“I’m sorry, really sorry,” you bowed you head multiple times when you stepped back. But you grabbed his hands and asked him what he wanted. 
He said, “Yeah, yeah, just go back to where you came from.” 
He didn’t seem interested in whatever payback you’re giving, but you didn’t want to leave without a good deed left unpaid. So you tugged him and said, “My home isn’t far from here, my lord. Are you a wanderer? I can offer you a place to stay in for the night and then we can consider my debt as paid.” 
When he was about to reject it, you hastily added, “And I will stop bothering you.” 
He paused and considered it then grumbling a “fine.”
~~
When you made it back to the village, there were a few people who greeted you with familiarity while casting their unsure, wary gazes on the hooded figure that tailed behind you. All it takes was a “it’s fine, he’s with me” to completely get their cases off the stranger—your savior’s—back. 
It astounds you how these people wouldn’t know until a little later that you were abducted hours ago if you didn’t come home like you normally would. You would have become a cold case. 
As you stepped on the porch of your home, the door immediately opened with your frenzied adoptive mother who was so surprised yet relieved to finally see you. 
“What happened?” she asked as she checked every nook and cranny, cupping your face and twisting it side to side. “It was almost getting dark and you’re still not home. I thought something happened to you! My goodness, graces of the archons above don’t ever do that again.” That’s when she took notice of the man behind you. “Who is this young man?” she whispered to your ear. 
“Mother, this is the man who saved me from the fatui.” 
“Fatui?!” 
Your ears almost fell off hearing her scream. 
“It’s okay now. This man passed by and saved me when they were taking me somewhere.” 
“You’re not hurt, are you?” she frantically looked for any injuries on your arms and sighed when she didn’t see one. Although you do have minor scratches. Then she ushered you both inside. “Come, you two, let’s dry you off. It’s pouring outside.”
~~
As you two dried yourselves off, you noticed that not once did he took off his hat. You didn’t say anything but he looked at you and said, “What? I’m not taking it off,” as if he knew what you were thinking. 
But you only smiled. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t.” 
When dinner time came, the nameless wanderer did not join the table. Even when called, he didn’t come. He just sat up on the roof of the house and stared at the sky. That was until you came with a bowl in hand and offered it to him. 
“I don’t need it.” 
“But it’s for you, so you wouldn’t go hungry on your journey,” you said, dismayed as you look down on the poor rejected piece of artistry you did with the bowl. 
“Like I said, I don’t need it.” 
“Even if we made it for you?” 
You saw him cringed and fight back the urge to say the same thing. After a moment of internal struggle, seeing that you wouldn’t stop until he eats, he sighed in defeat, “Fine. Give me the bowl. You said you made this? Let’s see of how much of a chef you claim you were. You better not burn my tongue off.” 
You just laughed at his remarks. For some reason, it doesn’t sound as spiteful as he tries to make it to be. 
After taking a sip, he fell silent. He didn’t comment anything but you can see the surprise in his eyes as he took another spoonful in his mouth. You enjoyed his reaction. 
There was a tingle in your stomach. This young man felt oddly familiar, but you can’t place a finger on it. Did he remind you of someone? 
You can’t remember. Someone as striking as him would definitely be impressionable on the first meeting. But then, how? You mostly felt it when you met him there, gazing up to his benevolent figure, saving you from the fatui. 
You’ve been there. 
You’ve met him. 
You think… 
“Why are you making a face? Why? Did it make you nervous that you’re feeding me your bad cooking?” He huffed as he set down the emptied bowl beside him. That snapped you out of your reverie. 
“Oh, no, I was just thinking of something…” you admittedly said, absent-minded. “Have we met before?” 
“What? Are you delusional?” 
“I’m kidding.” You scratched your head with a laugh. “It’s just that. I had a tingle.” But before you could go any further, you remembered something, “Oh! Hold on, wait a moment, I’ll get something.” 
You came back with something in hand. When you gave it to him, you looked at you for the first time in confusion. “What is this doll for?” He held it limply in the air. 
You laughed. “That’s something precious to me. A memory of my old village…” you gaze up with stars reflected in your eyes as you thought of your fond memories. “That was all that’s left after the fatui burned it down. So even if it meant miniscule to you that you saved me from those two, it meant the whole world to me.” 
He said nothing and stared at the doll with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. It was gone the moment that you tried to look into it. Or maybe he had none at all. To him, it could just be another random doll, a token of gratitude. 
But to you, at the very least, it would be something to remind him of this encounter. 
You came close then your lips met his cold cheeks. The winds blew and the beautiful visage of his flowing robes and surprised expression will be forever etched in your mind. “Thank you,” you whispered.
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❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜ from the soft prompts pls? also I SWEAR if you make this angsty I will... wail in the comments but also cry bc I enjoy torturing myself and like pain -🍂
I assume you wanted Portada (Ace x Yara) for this heheh
There are references to the anime (and the Ace light novel) but no actual spoilers.
“So Pops is really sending you to take on Bohemian Knight Doma all by yourself?”
“Yeah!” Ace grinned, flexing an arm. “Pretty great, huh?”
Yara shrugged. “I mean, it’s smarter than sending the fleet if we don’t need to. Doma might be stupid enough to encroach on the Whitebeard Pirates’ territory, but he’s not going to turn down a one-on-one challenge when the alternative is facing an entire armada.”
“That’s true, too.” He laughed. “I know I only got this mission because Pops is testing me, but I feel good.” As if to prove his point, a small burst of fire flared out of his fingertips, flames quickly engulfing his entire hand. 
“Well, Fifth Division will be lying in wait should you need backup.”  
“Pssshh, backup. I’ll kick his ass before he even--”
“Hey, Ace!” 
Ace perked up at the familiar voice, glancing over to where a blue-haired man wearing a masquerade-like mask stepped off the gangplank and onto the deck of the Moby Dick. “Any news?”
“Yes. I’ve got the striker operational again. It should be good to go for your mission.”
“Great! Thanks, Deu!”
Masked Deuce smiled, giving his friend-- and former captain-- a polite bow before striding off. 
Ace turned back to Yara, grinning. “See?”
Yara tried not to smile as she shook her head. “I still think that thing is a death trap. If you fall off of it while riding the waves, there won’t be anyone around to haul your ass out of the water. The fact that Deuce designed it and not you is the only thing giving me a shred of hope.”
“Hey!” He pretended to be insulted. “I can build stuff.”
“Your attempt at fixing the starboard anchor tells me otherwise.”
“Well, maybe the anchor was being a jerk.”
Yara finally gave in, her shoulders shaking as she laughed, and Ace felt as if he’d won the lottery. His chest puffed up, pleased. 
“So…” She leaned back against the wall. “You’ve got your orders, and your-- I hesitate to call it a ‘ship’... Is there anything else you need?”
“How about a kiss before I go?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Ace’s entire face went beet red. He laughed nervously, waving his hands in the air as Yara’s smile vanished, raising an eyebrow at him instead. “Kidding, kidding!! You don’t have to, um… because we’re not-- I mean… Sorry. Bad joke.”
“Hilarious, Portgas,” she deadpanned. 
Ace’s breath hitched as she reached over, placing a finger on the brim of his hat and tugging it down ever so slightly. A shiver ran up his spine, heart drumming erratically in his ribcage. God, she was so close to him, the scent of her favourite vanilla lotion flooding his senses. 
A small, bemused smile hinted at the corners of her lips as her hand lowered, and all Ace could think was how badly he wanted to catch it in his own and press kiss after kiss to her knuckles, her palm, her wrist; trailing down her arm until their chests were pressed closely together… letting himself drown in that beautiful gaze of hers as he held her against him, safe and snug…
She picked up the hat’s counterweight from where it hung against his bare chest, smoothing her thumb over the tiny cow skull embedded into the clay disc. “Just… Remember that you’re not invincible, as much as you like to pretend otherwise, Fire Fist.”
“It’s not like you to worry, Hellcat,” he couldn’t help but tease her in return. 
Yara let out a soft laugh. “You are going to give me a full head of grey hair by the time I’m forty, you know.”
“And you’ll still be as beautiful as ever. Er, I mean…” Heat rose to his cheeks. “You could pull it off, I’m sure.”
“There you two are, yoi.”
They glanced over as Marco approached them, giving them an amused look. “Yara, I think Vista’s looking for you.”
“Oh. I suppose I should be off, then.” She lightly touched Ace’s arm, making his heart nearly stop. “Good luck, Ace. Even if you don’t think you need it.”
With that, she strode off, heading towards the ship’s main cabins. Ace watched her go, the air around him already feeling colder without her presence. 
“You know you’re going to have to tell her someday, yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms. 
“There’s nothing to tell her.”
“Ace…” The First Division Commander’s tone was firm, yet gentle. “You can’t help how you feel.”
“I know, I just…”
“I’m already giving up on Ace, too! I don’t care if he dies or not, I’ll just tell Garp it was an accident. It’s true that the ‘devil’s children have the devil’s luck’, and Ace is the devil’s son!”
He sighed. “She deserves far better than a good-for-nothing guy like me.” 
If she knew… There’s no way she could ever… 
Marco didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it any further, either. The crew had begun to gather around them, cheering as they wished Ace a speedy victory. He waved back, one foot resting on the ship’s railing as he prepared to leap onto the striker, which was waiting in the water below. As he turned around, however, he caught a flash of violet hair. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to linger on her.
Yara seemed to notice, glancing over to meet his eyes. Her lips eased into a confident smile, giving him a slight nod as if to say, you got this. Butterflies burst into his stomach, his heartbeat quickening, beating out a rhythm so desperate, so desiring, so… unworthy. And yet… 
Yet he would love her from afar anyways, even if it was the most he could ever do.
One Piece nakama: @auxiliarydetective @daughter-of-melpomene @xoteajays if you wanna read <3
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matchheadz · 12 days
Text
HOS/ HOST OF SERAPHIM UPDATE!!
SURPRISE!! I'M NOT DEAD!! JUST WORKING!!
Thank you all so much for over 500 Kudos now. I never thought we'd get this far but, here we fuckin' are! My original intent was to double the word count on this chapter and then also upload some art for fun and as a thank you, but then real-life stuff happened and I figured I needed to get this chapter out at SOME point.
regardless! It is still about 1.5x as long as a regular chapter, and it should NOT take two months to upload another one. I've adjusted my work schedule and while I'm still working a shit ton, I at least have one day off a week now...
:') I'm a clown.
Anywho! This chapter is titled "Love" and you should not be fooled by that. It has some very heavy trigger warnings so please take a look at the chapter notes. Remember that Vergil is having an onslaught of memories just piling into his head, so he's very uncomfortable for the majority of this chapter.
Here's a spoiler-free snippet:
"Please don’t walk away, there’s more! Theres more!" A little Vergil, his lips stained blue with raspberry ice pop, would bleat as his partner-in-crime pushed the book away from him. “Vergil, this book is too sad for me.” Dante would sigh, leaning back against the clay roof and kicking his feet in frustration. “The main character threw away his family because he was too stupid to realize he wasn’t the only one hurt by a family tragedy. He was selfish and let that hurt become his whole personality until he became so power hungry and scared that he ruined the saving grace that offered itself up on a silver platter and got himself killed in the process.” And a little Vergil would frown at him and say, “What do you mean? The main character’s love interest was a girl. Someone he left not to abandon her, but to protect her from the danger that followed him. So he could grow strong and protect the both of them, so nothing in the world could ever hurt either of them ever again. I think that’s a noble cause, don’t you?” And The Raven would simply nod, his red ice-pop melting in the heat of the summer sun and sucking idly at the flavor between his fingers. “That’s what I said.” He would reply lazily. He would squint up at him, his dark pony-tailed hair spread around him like a smoke-stain. He would raise his hand above his head to block the sun, grimacing anyway to reply in a bored tone.  “And of course I think its noble, lucertolino, I think that was our problem.” And little Vergil would gape at the image of the boy who was once his brother and realize he never knew his twin at this age. And he would stare and stare and stare at his blue raspberry ice pop, willing that to make sense until the blue splashed over the page and ruined the rest of the story. He wouldn’t cry over it though, even if it was a really good book. He’d get mad and growl somewhere a little deeper than his chest and throw the book over the edge of the roof, even if it was a really good book. "Why’d you do that, idiota? You loved that book."  The Raven would sit up from his sunbathing spot and frown into the bright distance. "No I didn't. I hated it." Vergil would spit and lie, that stony expression would come over his face even as his weakest instrument broke in two. "We should write a new one. Just us. Just me and you, nobody else." Vergil would turn, the baby-blue of his coat flashing golden light onto his heart’s face. She would laugh at his anger, her brunette bun bouncing with the energy of it and her bright red dress bunched up between clay-stained hands as they walked. She’d stop him right underneath the statue of his father, her hands pressing into his chest and tongue between her teeth—seeing too much of him. "Art like that is made once and a lifetime, Angelo. A shame you did not cherish it while you had it." “I hate you.” Adult Vergil mumbled in reply. Between blinks, Eleonora came and went. And between inhales, his brother had returned. Dante laid underneath Vergil, his chest against his back, gripping tightly to his brother’s torso as if somehow, he would disappear on exhalation.
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justnerdy15 · 7 months
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Prompt Writing (Daily snippet 9.6.23)
Prompt posted by @theworldofprompts "Construction worker finds Alien ship on site."
wc: 991
Well damn.
Allan spits at the ground, scuffing his boot against the red clay dirt, and cusses at the sight before him.
Boss man wanted them to start pouring concrete by next Wednesday, having nearly the entire site excavated except for this piece of shit corner that refused to cooperate, and had Allan and his crew come in on overtime to finish it.
That sure as fuck wasn’t happening now.
He doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. Some shimmery, metal. . . thing, dully pulsing where it peeks through Georgia clay.
Allan spits again and reaches up to the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.
“Hey KitKat, need ya over here at the dig,” he says, scratching at his nose.
“On break, Dipshit. Whatcha need?”
He scowls. “You’re always on break. Get your ass over here or you can find another way home.”
Another voice chimes in. “Oof, someone’s in a pissy mood. Don’t worry, KitKat, you can come home with me.”
“Shut up, Nate. No one was talking to you.”
“Both of you shut up,” Allan breaks in, stopping Nate from putting his dumbass foot any further in his mouth, “And come ‘ere. Now.”
He ignores the chatter on the other end and peers back down into the ditch, having half the mind to jump down and check it out.
Fuck that.
He’ll make Nate go.
It takes a few minutes for the others to actually get there, Nate a couple yards behind KitKat, who raises one hand in a brief acknowledgement to Allan.
Allan grunts, barely flicking his fingers in response, and rolls his eyes when the opened hand turns into KitKat flipping him off.
“Took you long enough,” he calls out, crossing his arms, “Afraid you got lost.”
“So what’s wrong, old man?” KitKat replies as she approaches, adjusting the hardhat on her head. “You break something?”
He shakes his head and points over his shoulder. “Take a look.”
“Jesus.”
KitKat strolls past him, knocking her shoulder into his with a grin, and Allan motions to Nate to hurry the hell up.
“What the fuck?” KitKat asks from behind him, incredulous and confused. “What the hell is this?”
Allan grabs Nate by the shoulder and drags him along, ignoring Nate’s curse as he stumbles over his feet, until they’re standing beside KitKat at the hole.
“I know,” he says, letting go of Nate. “No clue.”
Nate pops his gum. “I thought all of this was undeveloped?”
“It is. That’s why we spend the last two months hauling shit out of here.” KitKat steps closer to the edge. “Even if it wasn’t, how would this end up six feet under solid clay?” She looks back at Allan. “How did you find this?”
He tilts his head toward the excavator. “Moving dirt. Went to clear out some more when the bucket scraped and got stuck. Thought it was rock. Clearly, it wasn’t.”
KitKat hums, taking a step back, and looks at Nate. “Well, get down there.”
Nate sputters nearly choking on his gum. “What? I’m not going in there!”
“Yeah, you are,” Allan says, nudging him with his boot. “Consider this your initiation.”
Nate looks back and forth between them, mouth slightly agape, when he huffs. “You both suck. I hate you.”
Allan claps him on the shoulder. “That’s okay.”
“Besides,” KitKat adds, “Think of all the double time we’re about to get.”
Nate makes a face at her, but still walks over to the ditch. “So do I just. . . jump in? That doesn’t seem, uh, OSHA safe.”
“Pussy,” KitKat says, grinning when Nate whips around to glare at her. “I’m playing, Nate. Go get a ladder.”
“Go get a ladder, go into the weird fucking hole, you losers ever do anything?” Nate asks as he walks away.
“I do,” Allan replies. “Not sure about KitKat.”
While they wait for Nate to come back, Allan and KitKat observe the weird metal.
“Maybe it’s Chinese,” Allan says. “Or Russian.”
KitKat slaps him on the back of his head. “You’ve been listening to too much AM radio.”
“Well what do you think?” Allan asks, rubbing the back of his head. Should’ve had his helmet.
“I dunno, maybe Nate will find something down there.” She looks over her shoulder. “And speak of the devil. He got the wrong fucking ladder.”
Allan frowns and turns around. “Oh, well. Better too long than too short.”
“I’m going to start calling him Dipshit instead of you.”
Nate’s huffing as he approaches, ladder banging into his side, and he unceremoniously drops it to the ground.
“Overcompensating much, Nate?” KitKat asks, tapping her foot against the sixteen-foot ladder.
“It’s the shortest one I could find! Fucking Lazlo doesn’t know how to put shit where it needs to be.”
Allan holds his hands out. “It’s fine. Let’s just get a move on.”
They get it set up, making sure the legs are solidly on the ground, before sending Nate down.
When he’s merely a step above the metal, they run into their first issue.
“The fuck?” Nate says, helmet obscuring his face as he looks down.
“What is it?” KitKat asks, holding onto the ladder. “Nate?”
He looks up at them, a frown on his face, and shrugs. “I can’t step down.”
“What do you mean?” Allan looks over the edge to see Nate’s foot dangling off the ladder.
“I mean I can’t step down. It won’t let me. Look.” Nate puts his foot back on the ladder and steps down like he’s trying to get off, but his foot stops about two or three inches above the exposed metal. He strains, a small grunt escaping, but his foot doesn’t lower any further.
“This is weird as shit,” he announces, “I’m coming back up.”
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nezumithewriter · 8 months
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Wrote a funny little thing for my scug oc "The Wayfinder"
--NESTING GROUNDS - CYCLE 48 --
Simple patrol.
In and out of Nesting Grounds. Get supplies. Leave.
"Lizard." One of the pack leaders signed, pointing a spear at a vent.
"Other way?" Another scavenger suggested, pointing down a tight tunnel. "No predators."
It was decided to go through that tunnel.
It was another few turns of the cycle until the patrol reached an area with a fair amount of food in it. Enough to feed them youngest at camp.
They were busy collecting fruits when one of the scavengers found something and screeched.
"Creature! Danger?" They had signed, pointing at a small... thing. It was round, colored a pale shade of orange, had smooth skin, and was sitting underneath a small outcropping of rock.
After one turn of the cycle, the pack leader threw a rock at the scavenger who had pointed it out in annoyance, "Harmless creature. Cycle ending. Follow."
Everyone began filing after the pack leader, eager to get home.
Except one.
One scavenger kept looking at the creature.
"Child?" They signed.
The little creature looked back at them with wide, black eyes.
"Where mother?"
Another blank look. This creature didn't understand them.
The scavenger looked about for a moment, before looking at the clouds through a crack in the roof of the clay-covered cave systems.
They had time.
"Trust." They signed, before scooping up the little creature. They just needed to find this things mom and find a shelter. The creature didn't resist much to being picked up, and the scavenger placed it easily on their shoulders.
A quick climb up a pole and a trip through a vent. This thing's mother was nearby. Probably.
However, all the pair could find were some centipedes. Tasty centipedes, at least. The child had ravenously tore apart the food when it was given to it, as if it hadn't eaten in a while.
Three turns of the cycle later, no luck.
The scavenger put the creature back where it had been before, before pointing at a hole in the wall, "Rain coming, go there."
The creature stared at them for a moment, before nodding, running towards the hole.
The scavenger looked up through the ceiling crack again, and saw rain clouds beginning to form. No good.
They started briskly moving back towards where the rest of the patrol had been going. There was another shelter nearby that they must be using.
The scavenger had been preoccupied trying to find shelter that they didn't notice a pink flashing light behind them.
At least, until they were in its jaws.
Everything became blurry as the scavenger struggled against the pink lizards teeth, their said captor beginning to rush back to its den to feast. A couple of the scavenger's spears began to fall off their back, one of them with a familiar red ribbon.
The scavenger couldn't help but start shrieking in some bid to call for help.
And help came.
The lizard suddenly screeched, dropping the scavenger. The scavenger watched as a popping and a crackle sounded out from the creature's skin.
Something had thrown an explosive spear at it.
It was less than a second later until the spear exploded, launching the lizard and the scavenger is opposite directions, with the scavenger landing hard against one of the cave walls.
The scavenger was still alive, despite it all.
The scavenger opened their eyes, the dust settling, and saw that pale orange creature from earlier, throwing a bunch of rocks at the now very dead lizard.
The scavenger barely had time to process what had happened before they and the creature heard the rumbling sound of rain.
The moment they were up, they scooped up the orange creature and rushed to the closest shelter they could find. Small as it may be, it worked.
Machinery slid into place as the young, furless creature looked back at the scavenger.
This thing had saved them.
"Saved me?" The scavenger signed.
The little creature looked at them for a moment, before pointing at the scavenger and inadvertently signing, "Food cycle squidcada pearl friend pearl" in an attempt to mimic the scavenger.
The scavenger patted the creature's head, before signing, "Safe now. Thank you."
"Thank you." The child signed back, not knowing what it meant.
Rain thundered outside as the scavenger held the creature close. Its mother will probably be back for it one day, but the scavenger was sure that she wouldn't mind if they took care of this thing for a little bit.
Right?
--NESTING GROUNDS - CYCLE 46--
The pale-orange slugpup sat around its mother's shoulders until they were put underneath an onning.
Mom had a sad look in her eyes.
"Stay." She had said, "I'll be back."
And the slugpup believed her.
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