#i hate hate HATE being looked at like a piece of meat it’s so disgusting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alxtiny · 4 months ago

Text

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 1

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, blunt trauma to the head, starvation, improper jokes, hate able characters

Notes: lets see if y’all can guess who is who >.<

Playlist : asleep by the smiths | the great gig in the sky by pink floyd | under the water by aurora

Series Masterlist | Episode 2 | Prologue

"Move it, slave!” a gruff voice barked behind you, “I ain't got time for yer dainty little walk," you felt the crude shove of a sword poke into your back, the dirty steel pressing through the thin fabric of your shirt like an icicle. You stumbled forward, almost tripping over the uneven planks of the dock.

"Stop poking me!" You exclaimed, spinning around to glare at your tormentor. The chains binding your arms come up to shield your body. Your eyes were bright with fury. "I told you already, I am not a slave. I am a navigator, and I am getting on your infernal ship of my own volition. Take me to your captain; I have a deal to—"

"Quit runnin' yer mouth, lass, or I'll run you through with my sword," the crewman growled, clumsily swishing his blade around, making his inexperience known. His breath reeked of stale ale and rotting teeth, a look of disgust plastered itself across your face. His sword came to rest under your chin, pushing your face up. Exasperated, you raised your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, rolling your eyes. With a resigned sigh, you dragged yourself up the gangplank, your boots clattering against the rough wood. The unimpressive ship seemed to loom above you menacingly, its sails furled and its deck swarming with activity.

The ship’s deck was a cesspool of filth and debauchery. Men lounged about in various states of drunkenness, their eyes glazed and their movements sluggish. The stench of unwashed bodies and rancid skin mingled with the salty spray of the sea, creating a miasma that made you gag. You could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on yourself, leering and appraising, as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Around you, other women were being herded aboard, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Some were weeping, clutching at their tattered dresses, while others stared blankly ahead, in acceptance of their fate. Your stomach churned with a mix of disgust and anger. It was a slave trader’s ship. You had been foolish, utterly foolish, to let yourself be tricked into coming here.

It had all started at the pub, a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall frequented by sailors and all that. You had been celebrating a successful voyage, your pockets heavy with the gold you had earned as a navigator. A group of men had approached you, claiming they so desperately needed your skills to guide their ship through such treacherous waters. It stoked your ego of course, you couldn’t resist.

But it had all been a lie. They had swindled you, drugged your unguarded drink, and taken you prisoner. You had awoken, bound and gagged, surrounded by the same men who now leered at you from the ship’s deck. The gold was all gone, except a few coins you had kept hidden in your boots. You clenched your fists, cursing your own naivety.

The crewman prodded at your back again, forcing you to keep moving. You glaring back at him, he laughed as if this was all just a fun game. He was a squat, greasy man with a pockmarked face, a half shaven beard and a cruel glint in his eye. His clothes were dirty and ill-fitting, and sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

"Where’s the captain?" You demanded, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I want to speak to him now."

The crewman snorted, a sound that was more pig than human. "You don't make demands here, lass. You do as you're told, or you'll end up in the bilge with the rats." He grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your flesh, and dragged you towards the stern of the ship.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you were marched through the ship's dingy corridors, the air thick with the smell of salt and rotting wood. The two burly crewmen escorting you, stopped before a large, ornately carved door. One of them knocked twice, and a muffled voice from within barked for them to enter.

You were pushed into the room, stumbling over the threshold. The interior was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the ship. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and the floor was covered with a plush, but stained, rug. At the far end of the room, behind a desk cluttered with a pile of maps and papers, and an even higher pile of dirty cutlery, sat the captain.

He was an unimposing figure in terms of height but made up for it in girth. His ample belly strained against the buttons of a once-white shirt now stained with the remnants of countless meals. Various condiments had left their mark, creating a painting of greasy splotches. His bald head glistened under the lamplight, a poorly matched toupee perched precariously atop his head. A smattering of fake gold jewellery adorned his fingers and neck, clinking as he moved.

The ‘captain’ looked up from his desk, a lecherous grin spreading across his bloated face. His small, beady eyes raked over you, lingering with a predatory gleam. "Well, well, what have we here?" he slurred, his voice thick with the effects of cheap alcohol.

You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. The smell of rot and smoke wafted towards you as he rose from his chair, his movements slow and ungainly. He waddled closer, his breath heavy with the scent of decay. You took an involuntary step back, your skin crawling as he reached out to cup your chin with his pudgy fingers.

"Oh yess," he crooned, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "A rare beauty indeed. You'll fetch a pretty penny, my dear. Or perhaps... you might be of use to me in other ways." His grip tightened, and you winced as his grimy nails bit into your skin.

"I am a navigator," you said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. "Not a commodity to be sold or used. If you have any sense, you'll let me do my job and not treat me like chattel."

The man threw back his head, a shrill laugh erupting from his throat. His greasy face twisted into a cruel grin, his yellowed teeth bared like a predator toying with its prey.

"Oh please," he scoffed, shaking his head. "A woman as a navigator? As if." He turned slightly, gesturing to the room around him, where the other men chuckled in agreement. "Women are bad luck on ships. You're lucky you're being sold, girl. With your looks, some rich man might buy you. Keep you as a little whore, maybe."

His mocking tone made your blood boil. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat rise in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. He was trying to provoke you, belittle you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crumbling under his words.

"Bad luck? You’re the one who's unlucky," you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly. "I’ve navigated through storms worse than your ship can survive and waters darker than that stain on your shirt. Without someone like me, you'd be lucky to avoid running aground before dawn. Sell me off if you want, but it'll be your loss when you're stranded out there with nothing but your ignorance and superstitions."

His eyes darkened, the amusement in them turning cold as he stepped closer, his breath rancid against your face. He laughed again, quieter this time, but more sinister.

"You've got fire," he sneered. "But fire snuffs out quick at sea. And I don’t need some chit telling me how t’ run my ship." He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, before his lips twisted into a nasty smirk. "Tell you what. Since you're so eager to prove your worth... If you can lead me and my crew to the next port—alive—I’ll consider giving you a job."

You felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly snuffed out by his next words.

"Not that I believe for a second you can," he continued, gesturing dismissively to one of his men. "Put her in the chart room. Give her the old maps and tools. Let's see what she can do with those rusty relics."

His men seized you roughly by the arms and dragged you down a narrow corridor. The stench of mildew filled the air as they threw open the door to a small, dimly lit room. It was more of a storage closet than a proper chart room. Tattered maps lay strewn across a dust-covered table, their edges crumbling from age. Instruments sat in a pile on the floor, as if someone threw them in and forgot about them eons ago. It was an insult to your craft.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you were left in the damp silence. You glared at the mess in front of you, wiping your hands on your pants as you surveyed the room. Some of the instruments were so worn they might not even function properly anymore.

"These fools wouldn’t know how to chart a course if their fucking lives depended on it," you muttered under your breath, grabbing the least-damaged map from the pile. Your hands shook as you unfurled it, your mind already racing to piece together what little you could.

Your eyes traced the faded lines, the names of ancient ports barely legible. But you had no choice. You needed to find a way to navigate this ship to safety—not just for yourself, but because proving them wrong had become more than just a matter of pride.

Hours passed as you pored over the charts, plotting a course that would take them through the least dangerous waters. You marked out safe harbours and potential hazards, making notes on a scrap of parchment. By the time you finished, your head was pounding and your eyes were heavy with fatigue.

You leaned back in the rickety chair, staring up at the ceiling. The ship creaked and groaned around you, the sound of waves lapping against the hull felt like a little man hammering away into your skull. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of rest. You knew that the coming days would be difficult, but you were quite determined to survive, to find a way out of this hellhole.

As the ship rocked gently on the waves, you drifted off to sleep, your dreams filled with visions of making way to faraway shores.

Over the course of the next two weeks, you poured every ounce of your skill and determination into navigating the ship through open waters and rapidly changing currents. The vast expanse of the open sea stretched out before you, a canvas of endless blue under the watchful eye of the sun and moon, and the occasional dark clouds that wept above you. You worked tirelessly, plotting courses, adjusting sails, and ensuring the ship stayed on a safe path. You had already saved them from a deadly storm and a series of hidden reefs, but despite your invaluable contributions, you were more like a prisoner than a respected navigator.

Every night, you could feel the disgusting gazes of the revolting crewmen following you around as you moved about the deck, their crude catcalls and whistles echoing through the darkness. Their words, filled with suggestive taunts and vulgarity, went on with a break. You were tired of it all. You would quicken your pace, doing your best to avoid their lustful stares, but the feeling of being watched never left you.

Not to mention your living quarters were nothing less than abysmal. You had been given a tiny, fishy-smelling cabin barely large enough to fit a untrustworthy hammock and a simple, rickety chair. The walls were damp, the paint was peeling and mould hung around rent free. The cabin had no proper bathroom, just a cracked basin for washing, and you were forced to bathe with your clothes on to preserve some semblance of privacy and dignity. The limited water you were allotted was often murky, tainted by the ship's grime and filth.

Meals were a farce. The crew seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, providing you with nothing more than stale, dry bread, hardened fish and tepid water, barely enough to keep you alive. Your stomach grumbled constantly, a relentless gnawing hunger that left you feeling weak and light-headed. You would sit in your cramped cabin, picking at the bread, trying to muster the strength to face another day. It was a test of endurance, a form of torture that gnawed away at your resolve with each passing hour.

Despite your dire circumstances, you knew you had no choice but to obey. Your earlier demands had placed you in a dangerous position, and any hint of defiance could tilt the balance against your favour. You walked a thin line, a weak rope that even a trapeze artist would refuse.

On your sixteenth day on the ship, you woke up earlier than usual, to the soft creaking of the ship, your senses still dulled by the fitful sleep that had become your nightly routine. The confines of your smelly, damp cabin felt more oppressive each day, the weak hammock beneath you barely providing rest. You stretched your aching limbs and splashed your face with the dull water from the cracked basin, trying to shake off the persistent lethargy that clung onto you like a second skin. The stale bread left from your last meal sat untouched on the rickety chair, your stomach too nauseous to consider eating.

You were in the midst of your daily routine, preparing for another gruelling day of work, the same work you once enjoyed now seemed like an unnecessary pain. You prepared to walk out of the cabin, dreading the unwanted attention from the others, when a sudden, deafening boom echoed through the ship. The floorboards shuddered beneath your feet, and the air seemed to recoil with the force of the explosion. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, your mind struggling to process the cacophony of sounds that followed—the clamour of footsteps, the frantic shouts, and the ominous creaking of the ship as it tilted to one side, making you stumble.

Your heart raced as you heard the muffled sounds of screaming and scurrying outside your door. Panic surged through your veins, and you moved to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. You cursed under your breath, tears welling up in your eyes. The realisation that you were trapped, powerless to escape whatever chaos had engulfed the ship, sent a wave of despair crashing over you.

“Pirates! Save yourself!” someone screamed, their voice raw with terror. The slurred shrieks of the slaver captain followed, barking out orders with a frantic urgency. “Abandon ship! No first- Get me out of here!”

Your pulse quickened as you grasped the small window set high in your door. It was just out of reach. You grabbed the chair, its legs wobbly and unstable, and clambered onto it, pressing your face to the grimy glass. You could see only a narrow slice of the chaos outside, figures darting back and forth in a desperate frenzy. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke that drifted through the corridors.

As you strained to see more, a thud shook the door, and the chair beneath you wobbled alarmingly. You let out a strangled cry, gripping the edges of the window for balance. The sound of gunshots reverberated through the wooden walls, each one a sharp, violent punctuation in the symphony of terror. A thick, dark liquid began to seep through the crack at the bottom of the door, pooling on the floor beneath your feet. You felt your stomach churn as the realisation hit you—blood.

You screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore through your throat, and the colour drained from your face. You banged on the door, your fists bruising against the wood, but your cries were lost in the maelstrom of chaos outside.

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the din, smooth and chillingly calm. “Found a slave in here,” it called out, its tone laced with a seductive menace that made your skin crawl. You pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch a glimpse of your would-be captors, but your vision swam with tears and fear.

Before you could react, a hand slammed against the window, and the force of the impact sent your chair teetering. You lost your balance, falling hard to the floor, your head striking the rough wood with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in your skull, and your vision blurred. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, mingling with the distant sound of voices and the echo of your own screams.

The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the vague outline of a figure moving past the window, and the door being wrenched open with a splintering crack. The scent of salt and gunpowder filled your nostrils, mingling with the coppery tang of blood. The voice, with its cruel, mocking lilt, whispered one last chilling phrase as consciousness slipped away. “This one will fetch a fine price.”

The voice, gruff and edged with impatience, cut through the haze of your fading consciousness. "Yeah, first we need to fix that nasty gash in the side of her head."

Everything went black.

When you finally stirred, it felt like an eternity had passed. Your head throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache, and your limbs felt as if they were weighed down with stones. You groaned, your voice a rasping whisper for water, as you struggled to open your eyes. The light in the room was blinding, stabbing into your skull with every tiny flicker.

Slowly, painfully, you turned your head, your vision swimming in and out of focus. The room around you was dimly lit, the walls rough and shadowed. The scent of salt and damp wood filled the air, but it was the figure by your side that drew your attention. A man stood there, dressed in a white tunic splattered with dull red and brown stains. You blinked, your foggy mind trying to make sense of it all.

"Where... where am I? How long was I out?" You croaked out, your throat dry and raw.

The man turned, and for a moment, all thoughts of pain and confusion fled your mind. He was the most striking man you had ever seen, with piercing brown eyes and a rugged handsomeness that made your breath catch in your throat. His blonde hair was tied back in a careless manner, stray strands framing his sharp features.

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, your words slipping out before you could stop yourself. "Yep, I’m dead, and there’s even an angel here to take me away."

The man's expression twisted into a snarl at your words, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Ain’t an angel, lass. I’m a doctor. I fixed you up, but now you’ll be sent off somewhere, I guess."

Your mind stuttered to a halt, confusion crashing over her. You’re stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Suddenly, panic flared in your chest, and you bolted upright despite the sharp pain that tore through your body.

"Wait, what?" You gasped,your heart pounding wildly.

"You heard me," he replied, his tone flat but certain.

"But why?" you questioned, your voice trembling with both confusion and fear.

The man approached you, his demeanour calm and seemingly harmless as he carried a box filled with strange bottles and vials and a glass of water. “I dunno. My job was to patch you up, doll. The rest is up to the captain to decide.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Wait, captain? This is a ship—are you pirates?!" you screeched, your voice rising in panic. Instinctively, you shifted further up on the bed, clutching the sheets tightly against your chest as if they could somehow protect you from whatever horrors awaited.

The man laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “What, you thought you were back in whatever noble house you came from?”

“N-no,” you stammered, the denial slipping from your lips before you could even process it. “Of course not, but… what do you want from me?”

The man sighed, a trace of weariness in the sound, before a small awkward smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Let me put some ointment on your wound,” he said, gesturing to the box he carried. “Then I’ll take you to the captain. He’ll decide your fate... don’t worry, sometimes……. he’s merciful.”

A look of horror passed over your face, the weight of his words sinking in. But as much as you wanted to fight, to resist, you knew you had no choice. Once again you were trapped. With trembling hands, you released your grip on the sheet and took the glass of water he held towards you. You took a few sips before gulping it down and allowing him to come nearer.

He moved with a practised ease, gently unwrapping the gauze from around your head. You hadn’t even realised it was there, there was dull throbbing in your skull because of whatever injury you had sustained. He dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, wiping away the dried blood, and you flinched as the cold air touched the raw skin.

When he began applying the ointment, you winced, expecting the sting of pain to worsen. But instead, a soothing coolness spread across the wound, the pain ebbing away within minutes. It was as if the discomfort had never existed.

He finished wrapping your head in fresh bandages, his hands quick and efficient. You touched the side of your head, your mouth falling open in awe when you realised there was no more pain.

"You must have magic in your hands," you murmured, your voice filled with genuine wonder. "I barely feel any pain at all."

He smiled widely at your words, a touch of pride lighting up his eyes. “No magic, lass. Just a good bit of skill.” He extended a hand to help you stand, his grip firm and steady as he guided you to your feet .

You wobbled slightly, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, but he steadied you with ease. With a nod, he led you out of the dimly lit room, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your chest as you headed toward whatever fate the captain had in store for you.

Stepping out of the door, you were immediately hit with a blast of hot, humid air, the salty tang of the sea filling your nostrils. The sunlight, far more intense than the dim lights of the room you had just left, assaulted your eyes, forcing you to squint against its brightness. As your eyes adjusted, you took in your surroundings, following the man down a narrow passage that led out onto the deck.

The deck was expansive, far larger than you had expected, and meticulously maintained. The dark wood beneath your feet was smooth and polished, almost gleaming in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the grimy, weathered deck of the ship you had been on before. Men moved about with a practised, almost military-like precision, their movements synchronised as they managed the sails and ropes with an efficiency that belied the chaos you had expected from a pirate crew. Voices rang out across the deck, some shouting orders, others responding with quick, sharp affirmations.

Your gaze was drawn upward to the towering mainmast, which seemed to loom over you like a giant, casting a long shadow across the deck. "We must be on the poop deck," you thought, your mind racing to make sense of the ship’s layout. Ahead of you, you could just barely make out the bowsprit extending far into the distance, the very tip of the ship. The grandeur of the ship astonished you, its size and the sheer opulence of its upkeep making you wonder just how rich these pirates must be.

The man led the way, his footsteps silent on the wooden planks as you followed closely behind, your eyes darting around to take in as much as you could. Despite the flurry of activity around you, none of the crew seemed to pay you any mind. They were too focused on their tasks to spare even a glance in your direction, as if your presence was of no consequence to them. The lack of attention should have reassured you, it was a relief from the constant surveillance you had on the slaver ship, but it only deepened the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach.

As you reached the main deck, the man remained quiet, offering no explanation or comfort. The tension in your chest grew with each step, your heart pounding in rhythm with the ship's creaking timbers. Finally, you arrived at a small staircase that led down into another passage. This passage, in contrast to the bright sunlight above, was dark and foreboding, the walls closing in around you as you descended. The shift from light to dark was jarring, and you found yourself instinctively trying to close in on yourself, away from the shadows that seemed to press into you from all sides.

The man stopped at the end of the passage, in front of a large carved, heavy door that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. “Wait here,” he instructed, his voice curt but not unkind. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, leaving you standing alone in the darkness.

You stared at the door, your breath coming in shallow, anxious gasps. "This must be the captain’s room," you thought,your imagination running wild with all the possible horrors that could lie beyond that door. The longer you stood there, the more your nerves frayed, each second stretching out into an eternity. Your mind conjured up images of what the captain might be like—cruel, ruthless, and utterly terrifying. You could almost see his large figure and barbarous appearance.

Your heart raced, the silence around you thickening like a shroud. Every creak of the ship, every distant shout from the deck above, made you jump. You fought the urge to flee, knowing you had nowhere to go, no means of escape. All you could do was wait, your ability to overthink seemed to have reached a new level, until the door finally opened and you would come face to face with the man who held your fate in his hands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, and the man stepped out, his expression unreadable. He gestured for you to go inside, but you hesitated, your feet rooted to the spot. The fact that he didn’t seem to be coming in with you made your heart pound even harder in your chest. When you still didn’t move, he gave you a gentle but firm push, and before you could protest, the door was closed behind you with a resounding thud.

You stumbled into the room, your breath catching in your throat as you took in your surroundings. The space was dimly lit, casting deep shadows across the walls, but you could tell it was large, much larger than the cramped quarters you had been kept in before. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books, maps, and various trinkets that glimmered in the low light—treasures from far-off lands, you assumed. One side of the room was dominated by a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the endless sea, the horizon glowing with the last light of the setting sun. Just how long had you been waiting.

But what truly caught your attention was the man standing in front of the window, his back turned to you. He wore a black tunic that clung to his lean frame, the edges wrapped in black bandages that extended down to his palms. His tight leather pants emphasized his sharp, angular build, and though he wasn’t very tall, he exuded an aura of power and intimidation that filled the room. His hair was striking—half black, half white, styled into a short mullet that gave him an almost otherworldly appearance. He was nothing like you had imagined.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "H-hello?" you stuttered out, your words barely above a whisper.

The man turned slowly, revealing a face that was both haunting and mesmerising. What puzzled you most was the pair of dark sunglasses he wore, despite the fact that they were inside a dimly lit room. His lips curled into a menacing smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine. And then he spoke, his voice dripping with a honeyed malice, the same voice you had heard just before you had lost consciousness.

“Ahh, finally, the sleeping beauty is awake,” he drawled, his smile widening as he took a step toward her. His presence was suffocating, every movement deliberate and calculated. “Tell me, go ahead. Negotiate your life, beg if you must. Then we’ll see what to do with you.”

He moved to the large table in front of the window, sitting down with a casual grace that belied the danger he radiated. He propped his feet up on the table, the heavy black boots he wore catching your eye. They were stained with dark splotches of red, the sight of which made your stomach recoil.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in stammers, very much unlike the confidence you held when you talked to the slavers. Your mind raced as you searched for something, anything, that might save you.

He lifted his sunglasses, his eyes were a striking grey, like an uncontainable storm. Suddenly the room felt even more suffocating than before.

“I said speak,” he commanded in a ruthlessly calm voice, it sent shivers down your spine. This man was something different.

You didn’t want to speak but words came out anyway, as if someone had physically forced you to. “I-I’m a navigator,” you blurted, your words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I can help you—I’ve guided many ships through perilous waters. I can be useful to you. Please, if you spare me, I’ll do whatever you need. I’ve helped with multiple voyages, charted courses, and avoided storms…”

Your words trailed off as the man laughed, the sound echoing in the room like a cruel mockery. His laughter was sharp, cutting through your rambling pleas and leaving you in a stunned silence. You stood there, trembling, as his mirth subsided, feeling smaller and more like an insignificant fly everytime he looked you over.

Just as you were about to try again, the door behind you creaked open. You froze, your heart lurching in your chest as you heard the sound of boots on the wooden floor. You turned slightly, your eyes widening as seven men entered the room, including the one who had patched you up earlier. They spread out behind you, their presence like a barrier between you and the door, it made your knees weak.

The room felt much smaller now, the walls closing in on you as you stood there, trapped between the intimidating captain in front of you and the intimidating crew behind you. Your mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down on you as you realised just how dire your circumstances had become.

You looked around, your eyes darting from one man to the next, taking in their appearances and trying to read the expressions on their faces. Each one of them exuded a certain aura, something you couldn’t quite decipher. But the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to make your skin crawl.

The man in the centre, the one you assumed to be the captain, spoke again, his voice laced with a poisonous edge. “So, tell me, what should we do with this young lady here?”

One of the men stepped forward, his height almost matching that of the captain. He had a permanent smirk on his face, a look that immediately filled you with a sense of revulsion. “I told you earlier too—we should sell her. We’ll get paid a hefty sum for a pretty face like hers.”

Your expression twisted into one of disgust, your heart beating deafeningly at the casual cruelty in his words. But before you could react, another man spoke up, this one taller and far more muscular than the others. His broad shoulders and imposing frame made him look like a man who was used to handling trouble with his fists. “Hey, I thought we didn’t do that anymore,” he said, his tone almost childlike as he pouted, clearly not taking the situation as seriously as you wished he would.

The first man, with his smirk still firmly in place, shrugged, side eyeing his friend. “I was just joking,” he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Before you could process that, a third man cut in, his voice sharp and dismissive. “It’s all a waste. Just throw her into the water for the sharks. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

Her heart dropped at the suggestion, fear gripping you tightly, but then the man who had healed you spoke up, his voice carrying a note of annoyance. “Hey, then what did I do all that healing for if she was just going to become fish food? We could have thrown her in before I wasted my time.”

The men began to bicker among themselves, their voices rising and overlapping as they argued over your fate. It was as if your life was nothing more than a trivial matter to be debated, and it felt like a cold wet blanket had been dropped on top of you.

The captain, watching the chaos unfold, chuckled to himself. With a wave of his hand, he silenced the room, his voice cutting through the noise with ease. “Now, now, boys, let’s not be hasty. She said she’s a navigator, didn’t she?” He turned his gaze back to you, his expression unreadable. “You see, our last man accidentally tipped over into the ocean, so we’re in need of a new navigator. Why don’t you give it a go? If you fail, well…” He paused, an innocent look spreading across his face, though his eyes remained cold. “Maybe you’ll end up with him.”

You stared at him, aghast at his words. The casual way he spoke of life and death, as if they were nothing more than a game. This was not a man who valued life—at least, not the lives of those he deemed beneath him. And now, your fate rested in the hands of this man who would as easily toss you overboard as he would give you a chance to prove your worth.

Your mind raced, a deadweight pressing down on you. You had no choice but to accept his offer—if it could even be called that. But deep down, you knew that this was only the beginning of a difficult journey, you had to play your cards right.

You agreed hastily, your voice trembling as you thanked him for sparing your life. The captain laughed again, a sound that was more chilling than comforting, before turning his attention away from you. "Someone, show her the way to her cell—oops, I meant room," he ordered, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he returned to the window, sunglasses coming back down, cackling all the way.

As he stared out at the darkening horizon, another man, much taller and with a gaunt appearance, followed him. His hair was stark white, and there was something about his hollow cheeks and sunken black eyes that made you shiver. He leaned in close to the captain, whispering in hushed tones, their conversation too quiet for you to hear. you could only watch as the two men exchanged words.

The rest of the men began to file out of the room slowly, their presence still made you uneasy in the back of your mind. In the end two of the tallest still stayed behind, one of them placing a firm hand on your shoulder and pushing you forward slightly. He seemed friendlier than the others, and he quickly said, "Let’s go," in a tone that was almost reassuring.

As you made your way out of the captain’s quarters, you noticed that his friend, who had stayed silent, was indifferent and least interested in you. He kept flipping a small, gleaming blade in his hand, the metallic click of the weapon opening and closing sending a wave of anxiety through you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to stab himself—or worse, you.

The friendlier man, walking beside you, began to speak quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush as he droned on about the different parts of the ship and the engineering behind them. He spoke so fast that you could barely understand him, but at least his upbeat demeanour was a welcome change from the coldness you had faced so far. His enthusiasm, however, was lost on you; all you could think about was the blade flicking in the other man's hand and the fact that you were at the mercy of these pirates.

After what felt like an endless walk, they reached a small room, on the opposite side of the captain’s quarters and suspiciously close to the main deck. The indifferent man, his voice surprisingly deep, said, "We’re here," before pushing you inside. You barely had time to protest before he quickly closed the door and locked it with a solid click.

The cheery one spoke up from behind the door, his face appearing in the small, barred window set into it. "There’s food for you on the table, and some spare clothes in the chest near the bed. The clothes might be big, but you’ll have to make do for now. There are also spare sheets in the chest, some paper and pencils, and water, of course. The room is locked for your own safety, and if you need help, just tap loudly a few times under the flower painting over the bed—someone will come to you. Good night!" And with that, his face disappeared, leaving you alone in the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of boots echoing down the hallway until they, too, faded into nothingness. You stood there for a moment, shaken by the events of the day, unable to move or think. It was as if your body had finally caught up with the shock of it all, and you felt the weight of your situation settle heavily on your shoulders.

Slowly, you walked over to the table and saw the surprisingly good-looking food laid out for you. A nice bowl of hot stew, some fluffy bread, and roasted meat—simple, but more appetising than anything you had eaten in days. You sat down and began to eat, savouring every bite. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now, and the warmth of the food filled you with a small measure of comfort. As you ate, tears welled up in your eyes and slowly started to drip down.

After finishing your meal, you opened the chest near the bed and found a white tunic and a pair of black linen shorts. The tunic was big, but you managed to hold it together with your own belt, and though the shorts were also loose and came down to your knees, you made do with what you had. You then lay down on the bed, the soft sheets a welcome relief against your skin.

As you stared up at the ceiling, your mind raced with thoughts of the day’s events. How easily you had been spared from death, or worse, and how it all seemed almost too simple. Was it all just to scare you, or was there something deeper going on behind the scenes? The uncertainty of it all terrified you, and you felt a pang of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm you.

But as much as your thoughts tormented you, the heavy exhaustion of your body and the gentle rocking of the ship slowly pulled you into a dreamless sleep.

Comment under masterlist to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @yandere-stories @passionandsuga @beabatiny @sadtoru @pixie0627 @nagynomi98 @bunnychui

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year ago

Text

Gun Park x Goo Kim: Nabe

Sorta 479 spoilers but not really. I couldn't resist. Fluffy.

"What's that?"

Goo pokes around the pot with some stray chopsticks, glasses steaming up from the heat.

Gun plucks the offending utensils from the blonde's fingers. "Yosenabe," and snaps it in half.

"Which is?"

"Nabe. A type of stew."

"Whatever, looks and smells like shit,"

"That's fine because you're not having any,"

Goo’s head whips around, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "What! You miser!"

Trying to focus on preparing the ingredients, arranging the greens and meat and seafood, Gun attempts to tune out his partner's voice.

"After all I do for you! You tight ass!"

It's not working. His voice is particularly aggravating tonight. Sense of personal space especially lacking.

"You're not even going to share? You selfish dick! I can't believe-"

Gun grits his teeth and spits out "Fine."

"You fuck-" A pause. A blink. "Fine?"

"Fine you can have some."

Resting his chin on Gun's shoulder, Goo inspects the chopping board. The ingredients look good, fresh. Blade slightly blunt, knife skills obviously nowhere near as good as himself, but it'll do.

Almost-

"Why aren't you cutting the shiitake all pretty?"

Goo feels the shoulder tensing.

"You know, like when people cut a star into it."

“...”

"But I suppose you can barely hold a knife."

"..."

"Can you make the carrots flower shaped?"

"..."

"That's probably too advanced for you."

Goo swipes at a piece and Gun laments not cutting off his fingers in time. "This one is so much bigger!" It's not. "You can't even cut them to equal size-"

"Get the fuck out of my kitchen."

Goo chews on a prawn. It's delicious. Tender and succulent and he tells Gun it's not bad. Passable. It'll do for his refined palate.

Receives a huff of amusement in response as Gun tucks into his own serving.

The nabe does wonders to warm them both on this cold night. Peaceful, companionable silence only broken by occasional bowls being refilled, noodles being slurped, hums of appreciation.

Goo wonders if maybe he himself is a cliche, and the way to his heart really is through his stomach.

Munching on a flower shaped carrot and picking his way around the pretty mushrooms with a star carved into it, he finds a flush on his cheeks and a warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the man that sits opposite.

"You're not going to eat those?" Gun frowns. After that bastard specifically made a fuss over them too.

Staring at the shiitake in disgust, Goo can't bear to stomach them even if they do look more appetising tonight.

Pretending to gag, "Ew no, I hate mushrooms!"

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism fic #lookism x reader #gun x goo #gun park x goo kim #gun park #park jonggun #kim joongoo #goo kim #gungoo #wannaeatramyeon

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fxckingghxst · 2 years ago

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

CW: a little bit of angst in beginning, mentions of Simon’s past (nothing descriptive), fluff, no pronouns mention for reader, establish relationship, not proofread.

Simon doesn’t remember what a good night's sleep is. Sometimes it feels like he hasn’t slept in years. Nights are spent staring up at the ceiling of wherever he's been told to lay his head. The quiet is what kills him- would rather prefer the sounds of bullets whipping past him than the stillness of a room at night.

The quiet allows him to be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts about his past. His mom. Brother. Nephew. Sister-in-law. His dad. They pop into his mind daily, but he’s usually able to distract himself with his work. Now- when he has nothing to keep his mind busy- does he think about them and all the what-ifs.

Usually, his nights are spent at his desk, going over mission information and combining through the details once, twice, three times if needed. He’ll stay into the bitter hours of the morning, grabbing another cup of tea and then starting his day early.

It wasn’t until he met you did everything change for him.

He no longer hated the end of the day. He actually looks forward to it. Because he knows when he gets back to his room, you’d be there. Telling him what a long day you’ve had- how this one rookie keeps getting on your last nerve with his smart mouth. He’d laugh- telling you to instill some fear in these newbies and show them who’s boss. You’d laugh, sarcastically, and tell him that you’ve been doing that for the last week.

Sometimes you’d already be in his bed when he comes in, sleeping soundly. He’d be extra quiet when winding himself down, but most of the time you wake up when he comes to lie down. He’d apologize for waking you and tell you to go back to sleep.

“I will, but I need to tell you about…” And you’d talk. Filling his mind with rambles of your day- important or not- as you throw an arm around him and lay your head on his chest. He laughs at how much stuff you remember. At how you have to tell him everything. But, you just shush him and tell him to go to sleep now- that you’re exhausted.

For being known as one of the best, Ghost was a bit slow. It took him a long time before he even realized you were flirting with him- that you even liked him. And then even longer for his feelings to be realized and reciprocated. So, of course, he’d be a little slow to catch on to what you’ve been doing. Talking to him before he goes to bed. Getting his mind off of whatever he might be thinking of and filling it with gossip that you’ve overheard or whatever had ticked you off that day.

He had given you very little background about his life, but with the pieces he’s given you, you could connect the dots here and there. He’s told you about his resentment for sleeping. Seen him working late into the night and early into the morning on multiple occasions. You could understand how much a past could haunt someone.

He would tell you about his day, too. About the dumb shit Soap had done. About the piles of paperwork he insists on looking through (but then complains about later). About the disgusting lunch that was served in the cafeteria- he was never a fan of meatloaf and now he’s not sure he’ll ever eat it again. And you’d laugh; agree with him on the disgusting block of meat that was served today.

You’d try to look into his eyes, to see if they’re starting to droop before officially trying to go to sleep yourself. He’d always kiss you when your eyes would meet, gently and full of love. Love. Something he was sure he’d never feel again. And he’d see it in your eyes when you’d tell him to sleep tight. You cared for him- you really did. He doesn’t know why, but he’s not about to ask questions he’s not sure he wants the answers to.

masterlist

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #simon riley x reader #Simon Riley angst #Simon Riley fluff #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod 2022 #cod x reader #cod fluff #cod angst #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #kay:writes

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sparklingmineraltequila · 4 months ago

Text

American Wasteland

Note: I don't think Rust is a big fan of getting head cause I think that it's much more aligned to Marty's character. However, I think it fits all too well with Crash era Rust so this is me trying to reconcile the two. I also don't think my Philosophy teacher would be too overjoyed knowing I'm using what she taught me to write foreplay but at least it stuck.

Warnings: 18+, violence, drugs, alcohol, reference to sex work, implied past abuse, rough sex both past and present

There are a lot of ways that you can get fucked up by a liquor bottle. Rust knows this. But mainly, there are two ways. The first is the classic act of getting drunk out of your mind: the type of drunk that can only end in violence. Rust doesn't always need to gulp down a bottle of Jameson, straight and hard, to feel the acrid burn of repulsion and vomit in his stomach. Sometimes, the slow sipping of a 12 pack of Bud or Lone Star is preferred on days where he's more lucid, has more of that sickening desire to punish himself with Sofia's face and blood and gurgling cough. Tearing that beer can and slicing at his skin might be a more effective, visceral act of punishment, but it's too quick. No, he brought her into this meat grinder of a world, he should feel that same machinery gnashing away at his being before he is allowed to slide into the stagnation that the piss warm beer allows him. Then, you have the far more crude way to fuck someone up; the jagged edge of smashed glass will do that just fine. Quick, cuts easy into the supple flesh of the cheek and makes a hell of a show. As he glances over the bottles of whiskey, Cassandra lets out a low whistle,

'Johnnie Walker Blue Label. This was the shit my dad used to blow rent on. You'd think for such a piece of shit loser, the man would've had cheaper taste,' and Rust can see a faint lacquer in her eyes, the impenetrable kind making her relive those scenes of her slurring daddy with a heavy set jaw and even heavier hands, the musk of her own fetid sweat mixed with talcum powder on her t-shirt in a pathetic, 8 year old's attempt to get the smell out, the hum of a refrigerator while a little girl cries at the kitchen table cause she doesn't get to feel safe around daddy. Hard to reconcile that image with the 20 year old in a white cotton sundress that ends too soon and is cut too low; the blueish lighting giving her skin a cool sheen. Cassandra puts the bottle back and walks over to where Rust is slotting his usual Jameson under his arm as he picks up a second bottle. From his crouching position, he can see the delicate purple hue on her thighs, arranged in the pattern of his fingerprints. A sickening sense of pride settles itself next to the self-disgust in Rust's gut at the marks and the satisfaction with which Cassandra is looking at them.

'Roughed you up pretty good, huh?' Rust says, gruffly. Cassandra glances over a delicate shoulder from where she's inspecting the Bourbon shelf,

'They hurt.'

'Bullshit, baby. You think I didn't see you were tracin' 'em in the truck, on the way here.'

'Doesn't mean they don't hurt.'

'True,' Rust stands to his full height, 'but d'you know what it does mean?'

'What?' she turns to face him.

He walks over to her, giving her cheek a couple, little pats his fingers, 'That you liked it.' Cassandra gives a derisive scoff but not one that can hide that glint in her eye: relief. Not just that Rust has indulged her infatuation, fucking her into the mattress until she forgot how to say 'Crash', but the protection that those bruises afford; the bruises of a young girl turned woman, bruises who's shade of blue show that the man who gave them is a tough son of a bitch.

'I hate it when you do that,' Cassandra states, somewhat petulantly.

'Do what? Point out that you can't do one over me?'

'No,' she says, narrowing her eyes, 'When you slap me around like that. I feel dumb.'

'That ain't slappin' around, trust me. And you ain't dumb, that's for sure, Cass,' Rust huffs, looping the plastic casing of a Lone Star six-pack through his fingers, 'But you shouldn't look to me to affirm that for you.'

'I don't need you to affirm shit for me.'

'Good, cause I ain't got the fuckin' time or will for that, too. Pick up your head, Cassandra. Stop fuckin' poutin',' Rust's tone is sharp. Cassandra rolls her eyes but she struts behind him, following him to the cashier. As Rust waits in line behind some trucker, Cassandra scuffs her boots against the floor, pulling her gum taught over her tongue until to snaps.

'You snap your gum,' Rust states. Cassandra looks up at him from where she was analysing the snake skin on the point of her boot,

'Huh?'

'You don't blow bubbles, you snap your gum.'

'I ain't gonna give the men 'round here the whole school girl routine. Fuck that,' she scowls. The corner of Rust's mouth twitches slightly at her sharpness; that guile about her never fails to dump buckets of ice cold water over his perception. His smart, smart girl, knowing that a quick, hard fix of money isn't shit next to the promise of survival that grit can give. Leave the milk boxes and cotton socks to the little girls, you're a woman now. It takes a certain intelligence to be sexy, to bear the soft, supple skin of ass, tits and thigh in a delicate veil of lace, and to still keep the wolves at an arm's length. Give them the scent of your blood, hot and throbbing, let them believe that the practiced gasps and rolling neck are just for them, but don't let them tear your skin. The wolves are ravenous in this wasteland, they get a taste for blood and they will gut you from the inside out.

Rust pays, ignoring the cashier's mild look of disapproval or envy at how Cassandra comes to stand next to him. She watches as the bottles get bagged up and Rust turns to leave. She gestures to him as they walk out, her boots clacking on the baked asphalt like one of those old, clunking clocks,

'Let me carry one.'

Rust barely spares her a glance, 'You're underaged. Shouldn't be drinking.' That almost makes her laugh,

'You're fucking kidding, right? I'm a stripper. You remember that, Crash?'

'You're also in college. Need to stay sharp, baby.'

'It's a Friday,' her tone dry, 'Plus, you're always offering me beers.'

'No,' Rust corrects, 'You take my beers and I let you get away with it.'

Cassandra rolls her eyes as they climb into their respective sides of his truck and Rust would be lying if he didn't feel the twist in his stomach at the practiced ease of the act, the facility of their place in the other's space. Rust starts the ignition,

'Stop rollin' those eyes at me.'

'Fuck off, Crash,' she retorts, only slightly annoyed and Rust just hums,

'You're real fuckin' cocky for someone who's in my hands about how many times they get to come, tonight.'

Cassandra almost opens her mouth before clamping it shut, making a big show out of rolling down the window. Smart move, baby, Rust thinks. A sentiment that holds up, after he bends her over the sink, bunching her dress over her hips; gripping her hair, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror as she takes him deep and hard. What Cassandra doesn't know is that the mirror is almost more for Rust's reflection than it is for hers. Forcing himself to look into his own glacial blue eyes, this way he can't indulge in the complete bliss of Cassandra's wet, tightness. No, if he's going to allow himself this then he's going to be fucking straight about it: he's a coked up, undercover narco currently using some vulnerable 20 year old girl who has no clue who he actually is. Rust wishes that the reason he's fucking her so hard, scraping his nails on her scalp, is that he hates her, sees her like one of the hookers that the Iron Crusaders systematically violate; it would make this shit a lot easier. But he doesn't and it's not. Rust is past indulging delusions for the sake of comfort. It was Nietzsche's idea, if he can remember correctly: embrace the pure fucking horror of eternal return, this ontological prison we're all stuck in, and you might finally find some enlightenment amongst the squalor.

'Put your leg up. Let me see those bruises,' he grits out, hand clamping onto her thigh in an attempt to lift to up.

'No-fuck-I won't be able to hold it up,' Cassandra stammers out, knuckles white as a scar on the ceramic rim of the sink out of exertion of holding herself in place when Rust shoves her forward with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips.

'Tsk, wrong answer, baby,' Rust says, shoving her leg up and bending it at the knee so that it rests in the sink bowl. The new position opens her up, not only showing the patterns of bruising on her inner thighs but the glistening wetness of her seam as he pushes into her again. The mixture of the two is a lurid depiction of what sex is around here; its inextricable connection to violence. Like meat and salt. The drop of thin, clear arousal now running down Cassandra's leg, the cracked scabs on his knuckles from a bar fight, the clunking rumble of the AC boxes outside the trailer: blood, sex and heat. Rust reaches a hand down and gathers the drop of wetness on his fingers, he brings it to his mouth and tastes it. Cassandra looks like she wants to cry as he catches her eye in the mirror.

'What's that face for, baby? Ain't never had a man taste you before?' Rust's voice thick from exertion and desire, her tartness covering his tongue.

'That's a really fucking intimate thing to do,' she says and poor baby sounds like she might either sob or come.

'No, it ain't, Rust lands a heavy slap on the bruises, as if to reprimand her for the implication, 'It's how a man fucks a woman.'

'So, I'm a woman to you now?'

'I don't fuck little girls, so yeah,' Rust says, his hand in her hair coming down to grip her throat. That's the one small mercy of innocence, Rust thinks, it can only be corrupted once. He yanks her head up by the chin,

'Look at yourself real good, Cass. This what you want? Some doped up biker with a load on, fucking you, leaving you all roughed up-Look at me, Cassandra,' he snarls, his tone harsh to conceal the begging behind it,

'Yes! Fuck, yes I do!,' she cries out, her adamance mixed with the first tremors of her impending orgasm. Rust lets out a growl, something deep and atavistic, as he yanks up her knee to bend her leg around his hips, now obscenely deep. Cassandra is now halfway slumped against the skin, the cold metal of the tap pressing into her sternum. This shit is good, too good, like the cool bliss of the moment the heroin hits your bloodstream and everything feels fucking pure. He pulls out as her feels her begin to pulsate around him and she cries out. Good, Rust thinks, wanting to punish her for being so goddamn complacent, Get used to crying if you want to fuck around with this shit, baby. He manhandles her to her knees as the muscle in his jaw twitches at what he's about to say to her,

'You want it that bad? Show me,' Rust deadpans, hand twisting into the dark mass of Cassandra's hair. She looks up at him and has the fucking audacity to arch her eyebrow at him before she takes him into her mouth, gagging slightly. Rust has never really seen the appeal of getting head, once he moved past the initial adolescent fascination. It makes him feel out of control, undisciplined, subject to his body's pure evolutionary need to procreate. It's one of the most self-serving, vapid states you can be in, mouth wide open, dumbstruck by ecstasy, unable to form of coherent thought except to mindlessly shove yourself further into the other person who probably isn't enjoying it anywhere near as much as you. Yeah, that's what Rust hates about the whole act, the mindlessness of it. But, fuck, his body isn't even his anymore, belonging to some fucking DEA's office to dope up and regurgitate whatever information they need to peddle their case further, without ever getting their hands dirty or doing some real fucking work. So, he may as well abandon himself to the weakness of his innate biological need.

Cassandra tries to give herself some respite by licking a long stripe up his length but Rust is having none of it: he presses her down so that her nose flattens against his pubic bone making her gag again and harder, shoulders convulsing too.

'Come on, baby,' Rust croons cruelly, using his spare hand to light a cigarette, 'Thought you said you could take it.' Cassandra briefly takes her hand off of the back of his thigh to give him the middle finger, quickly reinstating it as Rust presses as hand to the back of her skull and thrusts harder,

'Keep that shit up and I'll make you gag on your own finger, next.'

A few more chokes and constrictions of Cassandra's throat, and Rust is coming hot and heavy down it. He doesn't let her catch her breath,

'Get up,' he says, fastening his belt with his cigarette still hanging from his mouth. Cassandra just slumps against the bathroom floor, held up half by a trembling arm and half by leaning against Rust's leg. She glances up, hearing the clink of his belt,

'You're getting dressed?' a slight desperation to her voice.

'No points for deduction, Cass.'

'No, no, wait-,' she says, clambering up, or at least trying to, on shaky legs, 'Crash, Crash, I didn't come. Please-'

'What did I tell you about you bein' grown? Grown women fix their own messes,' Rust says, face and tone stoic as he casts to the slick that has dripped down from the apex of Cassandra's thighs onto the floor just under her, her smeared lip gloss, her nipples hard and visible through the thin cotton of her dress. He gives her hair a harsh ruffle before walking out the bathroom. As he grabs the Jameson bottles and beer, he stops in front of the trailer's door calling out behind him,

'Get to work, Cassandra.'

#rust cohle #rust cohle x original female character #rust cohle x reader #american wasteland

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miniwheat77 · 2 years ago

Text

Virgin. (Soap x Reader)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, explicit language, near death, reader being allergic, blood, violence

(Summary): Soap can’t believe you’re a virgin.

You shove Soap away from you with a roll of your eyes. “Fuck off Johnny.” You laugh. Soap laughs in amusement “Oh come on, I’m not the only one completely surprised by the fact that you’re still a Virgin right?” You cross your arms. “Yeah. Well. Thanks to you, everyone knows now.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Give me a break! It was crazy to find that out, I mean, how old are you again?” You roll your eyes. “M’not telling you.” He laughs. “Mid twenties and still a Virgin.” He laughs. “You know, I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. You’re my coworker.” You roll your eyes. He chuckles. “Yeah yeah whatever, say what you will. But I’m a friendly guy, it’s easy to talk to me about stuff.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind your secrets getting spread around base.”

“M’sorry okay? It was barracks talk between the guys.” You scrunch your face up in disgust. “Oh god!” You shake your head. “I don’t wanna know.” You plug your ears, hurriedly walking away from him. He laughs, watching you walk away. You were right, you didn’t want to hear what they had said about you. It was nasty. You were currently staying on a military base in Iran. It was a tiny base that was hidden deep in the desert, hidden away to look abandoned. There was at least one person on watch at all times. The facility was locked down pretty tightly which was nice.

You took over watch for Soap, and Ghost took over watch for you.

Upon finding out you were a virgin, you got stares from everyone. Even the few women on base. It made you feel uncomfortable. Everyone stared at you like you were a piece of meat. Even some of the men had become a little friendlier to you.

You sat in the tiny mess hall, sipping at an energy drink you’d smuggled in. Eyes bloodshot and red. You couldn’t sleep. It was late, Ghost had taken over watch for you. “Why aren’t ya asleep Lass?” Soap’s voice startles you just slightly. “Ah, can’t sleep.” You say. He nods his head, sitting across from you. “Why aren’t you asleep?” You ask. “Wanted something to drink.” He shrugs. You nod your head. “Why can’t you sleep?” He asks. You shrug. “I don’t know. Just… thinking.” You laugh. “I got a question, and don’t be mad.”

“You’re going to ask me about my virginity aren’t you.”

“Yes.” You roll your eyes, leaning onto your hand and looking at him. “Why? I don’t understand. You religious or something?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“What the deal than?”

You laugh. You wondered why he pushed so hard. “My mum always told me to be aware of what people’s true intentions were. In school, whenever anyone found out I was a Virgin, they’d try to get close to me. Wanting to date me all of the sudden. I hated it so I just kept it a secret and waited for the right person to come along. I mean.. I don’t really feel that way now. I just wanna get rid of it so people around here will stop looking at me the way they do. Hate it.” You laugh. He nods his head. “I understand. Just remember, nobody is forcing you to do anything and if they do I’ll have their head.” You laugh. “I appreciate it.” You mumble.

———

“Soap, you mind staying with Y/N while the rest of us go on a mission for a few days?” Price asks. “Uh.. sure, what’s wrong with Y/N?” He asks. “She’s runnin a fever, can’t have her out there sick like that.” Soap nods his head. This was the first he’d heard about it. He wondered why you hadn’t said anything. The rest of them hurry, packing up their stuff. They were limited on time. After Soap wishes them luck, he makes his way to your room.

He knocks, but gets no answer. “Y/N? Answer the door or I’m coming in.”

He hears nothing, worry growing in his chest. He sighs, opening the door. You’re laying on your back, skin pale. You’re breathing but it’s shallow and when he feels your head, you’re burning up. “Shit.” He groans. He lifts you out of the bed, and walks down the hallway with you.

A harsh gasp leaves your lips, pulling yourself out of the water. “What the hell!” You shriek. “There you are, love.” He smiles, wiping your hair from your face. “Soap what the hell? Why am I in here?” Your teeth chatter. “You had a fever, found you barely alive in your room.” He laughs. “What?” You breathe. “Hold still,” he moves toward you, syringe in hand. “Woah! Get that away from me!” You swirl away from him, ice water spilling out of the tub. “Y/N. You got bit by a bug that was either poisonous or you’re allergic to. You need to let me do this.” He looks at you, unimpressed look on his face. “What the hell is it?”

“Epinephrine.”

“Why do we have that on base?”

“Why wouldn’t we have this on base?” He glares. You nod your head, feeling bile growing at the back of your throat. When his warm hand touches your thigh, a whimper leaves your lips. His warmth was amazing, the cold water nipped at your skin. He pinches the skin on your thigh together, noticing your flinch when he injects it. “Good girl.” He breathes. “You’ll feel better soon.” He splashes the top of your thigh to wash the blood off and you whimper at the cold water. “Sorry Lass.” He breathes. “For what?” His ears turn a little red and his cheeks have a very slight sheen of pink on them. “You were only wearing that when I pulled you out of your bed.” He blushes. Only now do you realize the thin white cotton panties and cropped tank top you slept in. The water made them transparent and he could see the dark circles of your hard nipples through it, the way the water made your panties grip at your opening. When Soap was prepping the water for you, he had to force himself to look away, stealing slight glances. “I-it’s fine,” you blush. “Just try to stay in there a little longer okay? Your fever is almost gone.” You nod your head. You let your head rest against the tile, taking a deep breath. Your teeth chatter and Soap steals more glances. Damp hair, almost naked. He breathes hard.

“So.. you’re a virgin. But.. have you done anything?” He asks. You shake your head. He’s trying to distract you. “Have you ever even had a boyfriend?”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “No.” You breathe. He chuckles. “Damn.” He laughs. Your teeth are chattering harder and you’re breathing hard. “Ah- Soap.” The way you whimper his name has him hardening pathetically in his cargo pants. “Hm?”

“I.. I can’t take much more.” You tilt your head back. Your tone of voice is almost too much to bare, that desperation so clear in your voice. “Just a little more dove. Three more minutes.” He’d been keeping a timer on his watch. You hold your eyes closed, panting. Chest rising and falling. The way you looked, wet hair, transparent clothes. It was too much. “I’ll go get you a towel,” he excuses himself. He has to adjust himself as he walks away. “Fuckin hell MacTavish. Get it together.” He mumbles. When he comes back with a towel, you’re hurrying out. “Can’t take anymore.” As soon as you put weight on your feet, your knees buckle but Soap is quick to grab a hold of you. “Got you sweetheart.” He chuckles, lifting you up. He wraps the towel around you, he’s holding you up bridal styles. You’re dripping wet, soaking him. “Sorry.” You blush. “No worries, s’just water. Little water never killed anyone.” He smiles. His voice was so deep.

He’d really done all of this? Helping get your fever down, carrying you around. “Where are you going?” You ask as he passes your room. “Gonna let you stay in my room. Gotta figure out what bit ya.” He says. You nod your head. He goes to lay you down. “Wait! M all wet Soap.” You gasp as he lays you down, lifting yourself up. “I can change my sheets, I’m just checking your room okay?” He laughs. “Are you okay Y/N?” He asks. “I.. I’m fine.” You look down. In reality you didn’t want his warm hands to move away from your freezing skin. “Just sit tight for a minute okay?” You nod your head. “How do you know something bit me?” You ask in confusion. “Uhh..” he blushes. “Saw a red ring on your hip.” You nod your head. He disappears afterward.

You shiver on his bed for a while and eventually he walks back in. “Couldn’t find anything, but if it’s poisonous we should probably bug bomb your room.”

You sigh. “So.. what am I gonna do in the meantime? What’s that mean?”

“Gonna have to bug bomb it, make sure everything is dead, wash all of your clothes and bedding and stuff.” You groan. “Where am I gonna stay?” You ask. “Well.. who do you trust the most in the task force?” He laughs. “Oh god. I have to stay with someone? There’s no extra room?” You say. “Nope. The only other 2 girls on base are already sharing a room because they were friends before the military.” You nod your head. “You can stay with me.” You nod your head. “Okay..” you laugh. “Appreciate it, Johnny.” You breath. “Course, no worries.”

“Also.. I should’ve stabbed your leg before I put you in the ice bath but I didn’t know where the epi pens or vials of epinephrine were.” He blushes. “Eh. It’s fine. Sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice.” You laugh. You’re still covering your front with you arms. Your undergarments had pretty much dried by now, but you were still self conscious. “Uh.. here.” He passes you a shirt. “You can wear it since you won’t have any clothes. When the others get back I’ll ask them where everything is.” You nod your head. “Wait, when they get back? Where’d they go?”

“On a mission.” You nod your head. “So.. no one’s been keeping watch?” You ask. “Making sure you didn’t die, Bunny.” He laughs. You freeze up a little bit. “Bunny?” You ask. “Uh.. yeah. Don’t like it?” He blushes. “No, I like it a lot actually. It’s cute.” You laugh. You slip the shirt on over your head. “Well. Get some sleep n I’ll take watch.”

You smile. “Thank you Johnny.” You breathe. “Course, we fight together. I always got your back.” He smiles. “I’ll always have your back too.” He nods his head, smile on his lips as he turns around to leave. When he closes the door behind, you release a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You change the sheets on his bed and lay down. Taking in the scent of his blankets. He smelled so good. It was intoxicating. You stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking to yourself. He’d done all of that without even batting an eye. Putting you into an ice bath, checking your room. Searching for an epipen. The more you think about it, the more you realize just how much he did for you. Always looking out for you on base and during missions. The amount of times he’d killed for you, the amount of times he’d almost died for you. He’d been shot a couple times defending you. You’d thought for a long time. Who did you trust? Who did you feel the safest around?

You had your answer.

You emerge from Soaps room. Walking quietly up the steps to get to the roof. You take a deep breath, palms growing a little sweaty. You open up the door to the rooftop. “Bunny, what’re you doing?” He was in full gear, he always looked so sexy. You don’t say anything, creeping your way over to him. “Um.. everything okay?” He asks, he goes to stand up from the flimsy metal chair, but you push him back down by his chest. “Woah-“ he laughs, but it doesn’t last long. You put one leg to the side, sliding yourself into his lap. He takes a deep breath, drawing himself back. “I- I don’t understand.” You smile. “Been thinking lately.” You play with the hem of his shirt under his vest, grasping the zipper at the top and dragging the zipper down slowly. “Who I trusted the most, who would be the gentlest with me.” You sigh. “I think that person is you.” You breathe and he lifts his hips up, raising you into the air with ease as he adjusts himself in the chair. He shows you exactly what you want to see.

He could manhandle you if he really wanted to. Yet was still so gentle with you. “Don’t get yourself into something you can’t get out of Bunny.” He breathes. “M’not getting into anything alone, MacTavish.” You smile. Leaning into him. Your lips brush against his ever so slightly. “Is this some sort of test hm?” He asks. “What test do you think this is?”

He shrugs. “Not a test Johnny. Just..” you take a deep breath. “I want you to take my virginity.” You breathe. He stares at you, eyes burning into yours, darkening. His pupils are blown out, he’s turned on. “That’s a big responsibility. You sure you trust me with it?” He smiles. “Mhm, haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. You lift yourself up, adjusting yourself in his lap. He groans. “Have to warn you…” he licks his lips. “Can’t control myself when something feels good. Might be a little rough.” He breathes. “S’okay..” you breathe. “I’ll do my best to be gentle. You trust me yeah?” He slides his hands under his shirt that you wore, rubbing his huge, calloused hands over your hips onto your ass and you started to squirm a bit. You nod your head eagerly. He pushes you off of him, you stand up. “Why don’t we go to my room yeah?” You nod your head. He lifts you up, walking down the stairs with you. He pushes open the door to his room, laying you down on his bed. This is where the nervousness really began to set in. There was no going back now.

He hovers overtop of you. “Don’t have any condoms.” He breathes. “S’okay..” you breathe. He smirks. He leans down into you, pushing your legs further apart with his body. You were starting to worry, he wasn’t showing any signs of affection. Just interest in your virginity which isn’t what you wanted. “Take a deep breath for me yeah?” You nod your head. He pushes the shirt up your hips, up over your chest. He helps you pull it over your head and that’s when he kisses you for the first time. Heat pools between your legs from just his deep kiss alone. He’s intoxicating. Your mind blurs, time seeming to move faster as he kisses down your chest and stomach. “You can stop me. Don’t feel obligated to let me do this okay?”

You nod your head, mind still fuzzy.

You’ve still got on the white cotton panties, and he runs his fingers over your mound through them, drawing a gasp from your lips. He leans in, sliding his tongue over the fabric, driving you insane. He was good at teasing. Your chest rises faster with each movement he makes, kissing and licking at your clothed core, the light friction drive you insane. He was having fun with it, enjoying the way you squirmed. You wanted to be touched by him. When he’s felt like you’ve had enough, he grasps the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs. He slides his tongue over your sensitive nub, and you move your hips away from him. Drawing a deep chuckle from his lips. “Relax, I know it’s sensitive.” He smirk, grasping your thighs and holding them down. “Focus on me okay? Gonna make you feel real good about yourself.” He breathes, leaning in. He holds you still and you have no choice but to let him hold you there. You weren’t stronger than him, had no other choice as he buries his tongue between your folds. Flicking it back and fourth over your opening, flattening it over your clit. Your thighs shook slightly at how aggressive he was being. Not even you had shown your body that much attention.

It doesn’t take long until you’re crying out for him, tears filling your eyes from how overwhelmed you are. You’ve got a death grip on his Mohawk and he can’t help but love every second of this. You squirming beneath him. You were loving every bit of what he was doing to you, and it was only just a small fraction of what he had in store. “Such a good girl f’me.” He moans into your opening. He removes one hand from your thigh, moving the other over your pelvic bone to hold you still. He gathers your wetness on one of his fingers, sliding it into your opening. Your eyes widen and you let your head fall back into his bed, moaning out as he starts to pump it into you, curling it into your spongy spot. You weren’t going to last long. “Oh- fuck!” You gasp. Your thighs are shaking even more now, he’s pulling you closer and closer to your edge. His tongue is still assaulting your sensitive clit, and he adds another finger. You can barely form words as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge of pure ecstasy.

“I- Soap I’m gonn-“ a cry leaves your lips, and you buck your hips up into him. But he keeps going. Tongue furiously flicking over your clit, sucking gently at it. Fingers still moving inside of you. Your body shakes with your first orgasm of the night and you’re panting hard when he finally pulls away. Your eyes are still glossed over and you look fucking perfect to him. So fucking beautiful. He moves himself over you, lips going back to attacking yours as he ruts his clothed cock against your soaked entrance. He was turned on. “Can you take more, bunny?”

You nod your head. “Good girl.” He smiles. He works to remove his pants, sitting up off of the bed to pull them down his legs, discarding them elsewhere. Doing the same to his shirt. He moves himself between your legs, pupils still flared out in arousal. His cock is dripping at the tip. “Pretty girl.. gonna make you feel so good.” He breathes. He was huge and it worried you as he presses his tip against your opening. “S’okay. It’ll hurt a little at first okay?” He breathes. “Just relax for me.” He mumbles. You take a deep breath. His top pushes through your folds and your lips part slightly. He grasps his fingers in yours, entwining his fingers into yours and raising them over your head. “Give yourself to me.” He breathes, lips brushing over yours. He kisses you hard and you flinch as he sinks himself into you deeper. His lips don’t move away from yours as he’s sliding deeper, when he finally bottoms out inside of you, he pulls away and a gasp leaves your lips. “H-hurts Johnny,” you whimper, moving your hips uncomfortably. “It’ll feel better baby. Promise.”

He rocks his hips into yours slowly, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself into you until you were crying, but he’d hold himself back.

For now.

He slides out of you completely, sliding back in until you’re full again, another gasp leaving your lips. “Fuck, I feel so full when you do that-“ your eyes gloss over once again. The way your body reacted to him was crazy. He starts to thrust himself in and out of you as you grow used to him, and he’s moving at a slow but steady pace. You’re getting more used to him, and it’s even started to feel a little better. You’re quiet at first, watching the way his massive cock slides in and out of you, mesmerized by how much your body could take. But the more he fucked you, the better it started to feel. Small moans and whimpers started to leave your lips and the small amount of worry he had growing slowly started to fade away. He was worried he’d hurt you too bad, or maybe it just didn’t feel good. But all you needed was a little time to adjust to him and his size. “You gave your virginity to me baby, how do you feel?” He smiles, your cheeks turned pink at his tone. “Feels really good.” You whimper. “That’s my girl.” He smiles.

The more used to him you are, the better he feels. Stretching you perfectly. He was thrusting right into your sweet spot, your body was shivering from the pleasure. “Feels so good-“ you gasp, leaning up onto your elbows and letting your head fall back. “You’re so fucking tight.” He lowers his head, barely keeping himself together. Soap can’t even remember the last time he had sex, but this? Was unlike any other encounter he’d ever had. He was convinced you were made for him, how perfect you were on him. He’s fighting his high off, your moans sound perfect. Your skin is soft and comfortable and each time he touches you, he’s struggling to keep himself together. He pushes your thighs up a little bit, sliding deeper into you. He draws a gasp from you and you cry out as he fucks into you harder. “Can’t help myself. Forgive me.” He groans. He’s a little more rough than before, he’s chasing after his high, maybe he’s a little selfish for how bad he wants to cum inside you, but he can’t help it. You’re raking your nails across his back and he’s hissing, but he loves it. He loves the raw passion the both of you shared, despite never having any interactions like this before. You showed no sighs of ever being interested in him, he was taken so off guard when you approached him like this. But he didn’t mind. You were stunning and you wanted him. Who in their right mind would pass up in that offer?

He grasps your leg, moving it over the other until you’re on your side. He slides himself back into you, going a little deeper than before, pulling even more moans and whimpers from you. His hands glide over you, your chilly skin being warmed by his hands rounding the curve of your ass as he pounds his hips into yours. He’s got beads of sweat traveling down his face. His lower stomach is clenching up so much, he can barely hold on. His cock is begging for release, and you were perfect. Perfect for that. He pushes down on your hips, pounding his cock into you until you’re crying out for him, thankful nobody else was around to hear you. The sounds coming from his room were sinful. “So close- so fucking close.” He growls. “Johnny- fuck!” You cry out, lifting your hips into his. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy. Gonna make you feel so good.” He groans. He’s right on the edge. You start to tighten around him and he knows you’re getting close. He groans out even louder than before. A mewl leaves your lips and he knows you’re right there with him. “Cum for me sweetheart. Give it to me.” He breathes, breath hot against your face as his lips glide over yours. Strings of saliva connecting the both of you as he pulls away.

A cry leaves your lips as you finally cum around him, your second orgasm more intense than your first. Your tightening around him sending him over the edge and he thrusts hard, hips halting as a string of cries leave his lips as he fills you. “Fuck Babygirl.” He pants, sliding himself out of you before collapsing next to you. You’re both breathing hard. Sweat and cum covering the both of you. The both of you have blushing red skin, flushed cheeks. Soap is still trying to get his breath back. “You’re fuckin stunning you know that?” He runs his hand along your hip. You smile. “Thank you. You’re stunning too.” You giggle. “I mean it.” He smiles. “Are you okay?” He asks. You nod your head. “Just.. can’t believe it.” You blush. “It’ll start to set in here pretty quickly.” He smiles, kissing you again. “Cmon, let’s go get something to drink, yeah?” You nod your head, standing up.

You blush, feeling his cum start to run down your legs. “I um.. need to clean up first.”

He notices the way he runs down your inner thigh. “Eh. Maybe another round wouldn’t hurt, ah?” He smirks.

This is also not proofread I’m being lazy today XD

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #soap smut

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greenbirdtrash · 23 days ago

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venting again.

[TW: SA MENTION, GROOMING, OVERALL DISCUSSION OF 18+ TOPICS]

Things are...not going exactly okay this evening. I'm being thrown back and spiralling a lot again, and it's not something i usually talk about, especially here.

I haven't even realised until now how much a certain thing can affect my entire life or haunt me for years after it happened. For years i tried to shove it so deep as i could, hoping i will eventually forget about it and pretend to live a life. A normal life.

But it keeps haunting me, and now, as an adult, i suddenly found myself in so many snares closing up at once and i realised they just...always been here. Kinda. I never got out of them since it happened. I got used to them, ignored them, but they're still here, tugging at my skin and hair. They didn't go anywhere. They never did.

I really just want to scratch at my walls and howl for it to leave me alone.

I did nothing to deserve that. I never wanted that to happen and didn't even think it could happen to me. Community that took me in never was a safe space for a minor. And it's still not. I didn't had any friends or other examples of how human communication and building healthy connections should work in a normal spaces, i only got one view on the situation in my most important years of socialization and it broke me to pieces. I still don't really know what i am or...what i want.

It took them years of gaslighting and clever manipulations to make me believe i wasn't good for anything, really. That i wasn't valuable as a person, that i don't look attractive comparing to what i now know as unhealthy and unrealistic beauty standards, that none of my feelings matter. As one of them used to say, "A woman without a partner in this fandom is like a piece of steak everyone else wants to sink their teeth in". And the irony is.. At some point after all the stuff they said i did believe i was that piece of meat. It never felt right or anything, i didn't enjoy any of that, and yet i couldn't leave that company or put my feelings into words.

It took them years to break me into a complete repulsion to intimacy and sex-related things. Whatever was happening, i just accepted it as something that had to be done. That i just need to lay down and pretend like I'm having fun for a bit and then everything will be alright again, because that's what i learned to do to fit in. It was just another routine i had to adapt.

It wasn't alright. It never was, honestly.

At some point, i mastered all my courage to leave and seek professional help. It was nothing like i imagined it to be. My life didn't actually shatter, but it sure felt like it. It was a long way of recovery and getting therapy, a proper diagnosis, getting to meet and trust new people again, trying to get rid of all the harmful things, all the self-hatred that was put in my head. At some point, I've met new wonderful people and even found a loved one, and this way i learned that actual friendships and relationships are just... something completely else. I felt like i was robbed of that, yet i continued to work on fixing myself. The thing is, it's not exactly a linear process, as you probably know. And as i worked on some things, i kinda ignored and forgot other parts of my experience, thinking it would somehow heal on its own and pretending it would be okay the next time I'll have to face it because it'll be under my control and with someone i trust. After all, this whole time i was leaning more to the thought that I belong somewhere on the asexual spectrum, and i still think i do, but i never actually thought about how trauma can affect certain aspects.

Surprise! Years of grooming and the SA made me hate myself so much i got used to denying myself basic pleasure and the fun i could've had with exploring the things i like. And whenever i try to indulge or participate in something, it usually hits me with guilt and disgust to myself like a fucking truck afterwards. Who could've thought. /sarc

Who knows, maybe my gender identity was also affected by that, and now it is what it is. At least i feel comfortable with my current gender situation...well, most of the times.

I just...i don't really know where to go from that. I always projected some deep feelings onto my personal art and it did help me with acceptance of most things suggestive, kinky or sexual, i did talk with some of my closest friends about sexuality and different experiences, but i don't feel like i could talk with my current therapist about it. I just..i kinda envy all the positive, open-minded and sex-favourable people I've met (also the people I've befriended on here, ever since i joined you i've noticed how the ghost fandom in general is very supportive, open and accepting to all kind of things, kinks and people, i never felt so comfortable in a fandom before and it did affect me in a good way, i think, at least it made me explore and project my own feelings about certain things a bit), i really want to have what they have, i want to have my own fun and do things i like without that trauma haunting me and making me hate myself for being...uhh..human? Is that what it is, now?

I just feel like I've caught myself in a loop.

#kers ramblings

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ziltoidcoffee · 2 years ago

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CK Drabble: Mail-Order Omega

(A Silverusso drabble based on old photos of Ralph where he looks absolutely bratty.

Daniel is an omega whose mother signs him up for an alpha-omega dating agency. Refusing to marry some random alpha, he tries to sabotage himself, but an alpha named Terry Silver is still interested. When the alpha flies to Newark to visit him, Daniel is forced to go on the date, but he spends the entire time trying to get Terry to hate him. It doesn’t quite work.)

At nineteen years old, Daniel has no interest in getting married.

He just finished high school and has his whole life ahead of him. Only he’s an omega, the rarest of the second genders. This means nothing really, except that he has a heat every other month and got picked on by every alpha growing up. Thankfully, he started reading about karate sophomore year and was able to fend for himself—at least for the most part. But being an omega also means he’s a very eligible bachelor.

Most particularly to alphas, who are almost as rare. Therefore, omegas are often arranged to marry and mate them, and their families are given a hefty paycheck. But Daniel wants to marry for love, not money. Always has, always will.

Yet he’s riding the bus on his way to an arranged date with an alpha he’s never met before.

It’s all his mother’s fault. She signed him up for this arranged marriage agency through the mail. Not against his will. Daniel agreed. But not without a fight. At first, he refused and threatened to move out. Then she revealed how far behind they are on the mortgage payment. She got let go from her job a month ago and hasn’t been able to find work since.

Daniel didn’t want to lose the family house, the one his father bought for them. So he tried to help, applying to hundreds of jobs around town. But apparently, an omega is worth more as a fiance than an employee. Especially one with no experience and only a high school diploma.

He kept searching though. Cause there’s no way he was marrying some random alpha, no matter how much they were willing to pay. That’s what Daniel told himself. Then he walked in on his mother crying over a picture of them with his dad.

“Fine, ma. I give up. Call the agency,” he told her at the time. “But I doubt anyone will wanna marry me.”

That was two weeks ago.

Since then, his mother found a new job, and they’re no longer behind on mortgage payments. So Daniel assumed she’d drop the idea. But his mom played the guilt card and begged him to go. She claimed she wanted Daniel to have what she and his father did. That world for like a minute—until he had to pose for photos and fill out some long-winded survey. He felt like a piece of meat up for sale.

Disgusted with himself and the whole idea, he took the worst photos and gave the most annoying answers, guaranteeing no alpha would want him

Except one stupid alpha did.

His mother broke the news to him last night. A wealthy, older alpha from California was interested in Daniel. So much that he apparently flew in last night and arranged a date at the most expensive restaurant in Newark. He begged his mother to cancel the date, explaining that any alpha who wanted him was probably crazy. But after accidentally revealing his plan to sabotage, he gave her fuel to guilt trip him into going.

Only he wasn’t going to “behave” like she urged him when he stomped on the bus. Daniel’s going to make this alpha hate him, even if he had to embarrass himself in front of the entire town.

Because there’s no way he’s marrying this alpha. He wants to mate with someone he loves—not for money or status.

Daniel’s plan begins when he arrives at the restaurant. The bus dropped him off a block away, but he doesn’t walk in the door until his date’s already been sitting there for ten minutes. He almost feels bad. But after clocking the snide look from the hostess at his cheap suit, he’s reminded why tonight has to be a failure. This alpha isn’t from his world, and after tonight, he’ll know Daniel isn’t made for his either.

Yet the alpha seems completely unbothered when the hostess leaves him at their table. He smiles wide, stands up, and offers his hand. “Hello, Daniel,” he greets. “Terry Silver. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

His voice sends a shiver down Daniel’s spine, as does the alpha’s rich, intoxicating scent. He smells of the ocean on a sunny day with hints of cherry blossoms, leather, and sandalwood. It’s so strong that he can hardly think and even takes a second to respond.

“Uh, you too,” he manages and shakes the alpha’s hand while trying not to stare. Because if the scent of him wasn’t enough, Terry is one of the most handsome men he’s ever met, with his dark blue eyes, statuesque proportions, and charming smile.

But this changes nothing.

Terry may be an attractive alpha, but he’s still willing to spend money on an omega he doesn’t even know. Clearly, there must be something wrong with him, and Daniel isn’t willing to marry him to find out. He sits down across from Terry and brings his attention to the leather-bound menu, preparing to launch into plan a: acting like a rude, spoiled brat. Hopefully, the restaurant staff will forgive him, and if not, it’s not like he’s coming back

“Did you already order?” he snaps, changing his tone entirely.

“Oh, no. I assumed you’d want to order your own meal.” When Daniel glances up, he half expects the alpha to be laughing. They’re known for walking all over omegas, some going as far as controlling what they eat. Yet Terry is smiling innocently and adds, “Please, order whatever you’d like. This is all on me, of course.”

Daniel scoffs. What a typical alpha, assuming he has no money. He might not. But he should at least get the opportunity to split the bill. At least he doesn’t have to pretend to be angry. “Of course? Because I can’t afford it?”

Terry frowns. “Would you like to pay for your share? I’d love to treat you, but maybe we can get dessert somewhere after where you can pay.”

His eyes go wide. He must be joking. “What?” Daniel never expected some wealthy, older alpha from L.A. to suggest eating somewhere in Newark—beyond their finest, most expensive restaurant.

The waitress arrives before Terry can answer. She asks what they’d like, and he orders the most expensive dish, tagliolini pasta with lobster and truffles. Daniel doesn’t even like seafood, but it's worth pissing off the alpha. Or he thought so anyway. Terry smiles and says he’ll have the same, along with a bottle of red from their top shelf.

He grits his teeth. Maybe the alpha is being polite, or he doesn’t know the price. It doesn’t matter though. Daniel is straying from his plan. But Terry beats him before he can even speak, asking, “So, how was your day, Daniel?” His tone is so friendly that a real answer almost comes out of Daniel.

Instead though, he crosses his arms with a pout. “Shit, I hated it.” Simple but effective.

Terry frowns. “Why? What happened?”

God, that sounded genuine. Daniel pretends to be unphased. “Oh, nothing particularly. I just fucking hate it here. Everyone sucks, and there’s nothing to do.” Which is such a lie. “You wouldn’t understand.” But that isn’t.

“I have bad days sometimes too,” Terry tells him. “Yesterday, I had a difficult work meeting, and then I sat in two hours of traffic.” Daniel rolls his eyes. Like that could even compare. “I remember you said in the letter that your favorite place is the Bahamas. Have you ever been there?”

Shit, he completely forgot everything he wrote. Now he’ll have to come up with an excuse that isn’t “I picked somewhere expensive and impractical so you’d be annoyed.” Daniel shrugs and says, “No, just thought it sounds—I don’t know…peaceful. Why? You hate it? Or been there too many times to count?”

A laugh rumbles out of Terry. The sound makes Daniel’s heart flutter, more than he wants to admit. “Only once or twice. For business. That’s how I’ve done most of my traveling. Or with a friend if he isn’t busy.” His lips draw into a smile. “But I would be open to doing more traveling, preferably with a mate to enjoy the trip with.”

Daniel hates how amazing the idea sounds, being able to see the world with someone you love. “Sounds nice.” The comment comes out before he can restrain himself, and his tone is hopeful, nothing close to rude.

Terry’s smile widens. Before either can speak, the waitress returns with the wine. She pours them both a glass, sets the bottle in ice on the table, and notes the food will be ready soon. Once she leaves again, the alpha lifts his glass into the air with a smile.

“To a wonderful evening,” he cheers, and Daniel smirks at the perfect opportunity.

“We’ll see,” he mutters and ignores Terry’s toast to take a drink.

The wine is fine, really. Not that much different from cheap stuff Daniel’s had at family gatherings. But that answer isn’t rude enough. He’ll have to take it up a notch. “Ugh.” Daniel slams his glass down with a groan. “Gross. It tastes like cheap grape juice.”

Any decent person would be annoyed. Instead, Terry hums and stares at the bottle. “I think you’re right. Perhaps she got the order wrong.” He looks around the room with a frown. “I’ll ask the waitress to double-check when she comes back around.”

Oh God. The last thing Daniel wants to do is get someone in trouble. He’s fine pissing off Terry but not a hardworking innocent woman. “No, don’t,” he blurts, then remembers he’s supposed to be rude and crosses his arms. “She’ll just fuck it up again.”

For a second, he swears the alpha’s lip quirk up, almost looking amused. But whatever was there is gone in a flash. Terry frowns and glances toward the back of the restaurant. “I just hope the food is acceptable. This was supposed to be the best place in town. I had my assistant Margaret check.”

Terry did research for their date? Did he care that much about trying to please him? Daniel’s heart flutters in his chest, but he ignores the feeling, remembering his mission. “We should’ve gone to the city.” He slouches against the booth and lets out a loud groan. “God, this town’s going to the dogs.”

It hurts Daniel to talk trash about Newark, but at least his performance is successful. Everyone nearby turns to stare at them, and Terry looks less than enthused, glancing around the room. Daniel pretends not to care, sipping his glass of wine. When silence follows for several minutes, he’s ready to declare a victory. But then a hand settles over his on the table, bringing the alpha’s scent closer, and his gaze jumps to Terry who smiles back.

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time” He rubs his thumb across Daniel’s. “If you wish, we can leave now, and I’ll take us somewhere more acceptable. I know a chef who owns a restaurant on the upper east side. I’m sure he can find a table for us.”

His tone is so sincere that Daniel almost groans in annoyance. Clearly, Terry isn’t bothered by his bratty behavior, but he’s not willing to act any more rude than he has already. Which means it’s time to switch to plan b: acting like a slut. Because while the alpha doesn’t care if he’s impolite, there’s no way he’s going to want an omega who’s slept with half the town. Only Daniel’s never been past second past—with only one beta no less. Thankfully, he’s prepared an act for this strategy too.

“Nah, might as well stay. We’re already here.” Daniel slides off his suit jacket and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing a sliver of his mating gland. As expected, this draws the eyes of Terry instantly, but his expression doesn’t change. “It’s just—I know the chef. He might spit in our food.”

The alpha’s brow raises, eyes coming back to his face. “Really? Why’s that?”

Daniel glances back at the kitchen door. “Let’s just say the alpha couldn’t get enough of what I was serving,” he says with a smirk, and Terry’s lips press together tightly.

Jackpot. Now he’s getting somewhere. “Didn’t help that was cooking for his beta brother too.” Daniel shrugs. “But what can I say? I’m an experienced chef.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Terry simply stares at him. Daniel can’t help but curl his fist in victory under the table. He’s going to be asked to leave, maybe even yelled at. But then a laugh escapes the alpha, and he stiffens in confusion. “Well, that’s good to hear…because I can’t cook at all,” Terry says with a grin. “Maybe you could give me cooking lessons sometime. Or at least share your recipes.”

God dammit. He rolls his eyes. Is this alpha stupid or what? Didn’t he catch the innuendo? “Christ,” Daniel mutters under his breath. He’ll have to get more obvious. But before he can say anything else, the waitress returns with their food and places a dish in front of each of them.

“Looks better than I thought,” Terry chuckles, reading for his fork and knife. “Have you had this before?”

“Uh—” Daniel unwraps his utensils while he thinks of a response. “Yeah, but I don’t remember the taste much. Had too many garlic knots that night.” To punctuate the words, he winks and stuffs a helping of the pasta in his mouth.

Terry nods but doesn’t respond until he’s taken a bite himself. “I’ve never been one for garlic,” he admits. “But maybe you could convince me” Daniel coughs, almost choking in shock at his ignorance, and the alpha’s eyes widen. “Are you okay? Here, let me—”

He swallows with a gasp and pushes away his hand, wanting the alpha’s addicting smell as far away as possible. “I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”

“Good, you had me worried.” Terry smiles, and Daniel looks away, irritated at the failure of his plan. Maybe he has to be more obvious. Even though he hoped to leave with some dignity.

An opportunity arises when the beta waitress returns to their table. “How is everything?” she asks with a smile Her friendliness only makes Daniel feel worse, but hopefully, she’ll understand. He can always come back later and explain someday.

“It’s—” Terry begins, but he cuts the alpha off. “It’s wonderful!” Daniel exclaims with a smirk.

She nods. “Good to hear. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.” “Well, there is something else I want,” Daniel purrs, leaning in close enough to smell her faint rose and vanilla scent. “What time do you get off tonight?”

He brushes his hand against her thigh, and her eyes go wide. “I—” She glances between them. “That’s—”

“That’s all.” A low, commanding voice cuts in. He sucks in a breath, snapping his gaze to Terry leering across the table. Daniel pulls his hand back, reacting to the alpha growl before his brain can catch up.

This seems to please Terry. He smiles and nods at the waitress who scurries away. But his eyes narrow again when he turns back to Daniel, still frozen for some strange reason. “Are you done yet?” he asks with a sigh, tone dripping with irritation.

Daniel blinks at him. “What?”

Terry takes another bite before answering. “This—” He waves the fork between them. “Your act.”

His stomach drops at the accusation. Does he mean—he can’t possibly know—was Daniel being that obvious? He clears his throat. “W-what do you mean?” Despite playing dumb, he can’t strip the nervous stutter from his words.

“You know very well.” Terry’s chuckle sounds more amused than angry.

Still, even if he’s not mad, there’s no way Daniel’s confessing. Not until he has to. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he snaps, slamming his fork on the table. “I’m not doing anything!”

His rising voice earns the attention of a few guests nearby, but Terry doesn’t react more than glancing at the silverware before returning his gaze to the omega. “Yes, you are,” he declares while reaching for his glass. “But I’ll play your little game and explain—this time anyway.”

Daniel swallows, waiting for an answer. He swears the alpha takes longer than necessary to drink his wine. But once he sets the glass back down, Terry smiles and steeples his hands on the table. “Where shall I begin? Perhaps the beginning. When I first received your application.” Daniel shrugs like he doesn’t care, but his heart is thumping in his chest.

Terry nods. “First, let me be honest. I wasn’t really interested in an omega—or mating. Not in the slightest. But my assistant Margaret—she’s ‘concerned’ about me, apparently. So she signed me up for this alpha-omega matchmaking agency—behind my back.” Daniel snorts. She sounds like his mom. “Anyway, I glanced at a few applications, but nothing stuck out. Like I suspected. I am a man of particular taste…But then yours came across my desk, and your picture alone interested me.”

Heat rises to Daniel’s cheeks. He never thought a man like Terry would be interested in him. At least not for his looks. Though that would explain why the alpha still wanted to meet him after the photos and answers Daniel sent.

“But,” Terry continues with a growing smile. “Your photos—they looked very…staged.”

The word is like a kick to Daniel’s face. But to avoid looking phased, he swallows and stares straight ahead.

“So I did my own research, of course. Or rather, Margaret did.” Uh oh. Daniel didn’t like the sound of that. “She was able to get a hold of your school yearbook. But those photos looked posed too. So I reached out to the agency, and your mother sent out some more photos the next. Didn’t she tell you?” His jaw tightens. No, she didn’t. God dammit. He got played by his own mother. “Well, the Daniel in those photos seemed nothing like the brat you were trying to portray in the first batch—and today.”

Before he can stop himself, Daniel lifts a hand to palm his face, But once he realizes and pulls back, it’s already too late. From the grin on Terry’s face, he clearly saw everything. “So, you see.” The alpha glances at the door then turns back to Daniel. “The jig was up—long before you even walked in here and put on that act.”

Daniel’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s been caught. Terry knows everything. But wait—what about the questionnaire? He still has that at least. “Think whatever you want. But that was me, and this is me,” he defends. “Didn’t you get my survey? Everything I wrote was the truth. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle me.”

A bark of laughter erupts from Terry. “Oh, Danny-boy,” he chuckles, the nickname a shiver down Daniel’s back. When did that start? “I can handle you well enough. Even if this—” He spreads his arms wide between them. “Is the real you.” Daniel’s hand curls to a fist under the table. Fuck, he embarrassed himself for nothing. “But I know it’s not,” Terry adds. “At least, not to this extent.”

That’s a hell of a claim. “How could you know?” Daniel growls. Did his mom redo the questionnaire too? He swears she sent the letter as is.

Terry shrugs. “I did my homework, like any good businessman would.”

Daniel raises a brow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think,” he answers. “I hired a private investigator to look into you. He spoke with your friends and family, pretending to be a potential employer, and they painted an entirely different picture of Daniel LaRusso. One that looked nothing like the person you pretended to be today, or in those photos, or the survey.”

A shiver runs down Daniel’s spine. He’s not sure what’s more unsettling, that Terry sent a stranger to investigate him or that the man knew who to ask and where. “I can’t believe you did that,” he hisses. “You’re crazy."

The alpha barks a laugh. “You really think I’d fly all the way here without doing a little digging first?” Daniel’s face burns with self-consciousness. Maybe he was stupid for assuming, but still, a phone call would have sufficed. “But I’m not saying that to offend you. I would do the same for any omega I was interested in.” He leans in closer, and the distance makes his scent grow stronger. “And it’s a good thing I did because all that talk about you ‘cooking’ around town might’ve fooled me. But we both know that’s not the truth, is it?”

Shame burns like a flame under Daniel’s skin. He can’t believe this is happening, that the alpha would go that far. “Jesus Christ.” He starts to button his shirt back up, feeling like a fool. “What the hell did he ask them?” Because he can only imagine the worst.

“Relax,” Terry chuckles, but Daniel doesn’t miss his gaze flickering to Daniel’s chest. “I told him to be discreet. But let’s just say…your family likes to gossip. He didn’t have to say much before your past relationships came up. Or should I say relationship?”

Daniel groans and drops his head back against the booth. “God dammit.” Having a big mouth seems to run in his family, and sadly, he’s not an expectation from that rule. They know way more than any relative should about his sex life, which means Terry was right when he said “the jig is up.” His act was a complete waste of time.

“Fine.” He slams a hand on the table. “You’re right, okay? I was faking it.” His hands come together to clap slowly and sarcastically. “Congratulations, you found me out. Can I go now?” Daniel glances around, looking for the waitress. “Maybe I can get this to go or—”

Terry’s hand on his stops him mid-sentence. He freezes and glances up at the frowning alpha. “Wait, Daniel, hear me out.” His plea sounds sincere, and he even retracts his touch, earning Daniel’s silence to continue. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was interested in you, and despite everything, I still am. So let’s start over and make this a real date.” He holds out his hand with a charming smile. “I’m Terry Silver. Nice to meet you.”

He stares at the alpha’s fingers in silence, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, Terry has been creepy and manipulative, and every instinct in Daniel is saying to run, as far away as possible. But then again, he hasn’t been much better, lying and playing the alpha because he can’t stand up to his mom properly. So in a way, he feels like he owes him a genuine date, and when he was acting earlier, Terry was being a gentleman.

Plus, he’s probably the most handsome man that’s ever shown interest. And he smells ridiculously good, better than any alpha Daniel’s ever met. Even now, with his hand so close, Terry’s scent is wafting across the table, and Daniel has to close his eyes a second to concentrate on making a decision.

Ultimately, he comes up with the same answer. “Sorry,” Daniel starts, and the mere word makes Terry drop his hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m not really interested in dating right now, and I don't even know you. But thanks for the offer.” He tears his gaze from the alpha whose smile has faded to glance around the restaurant. “I wonder if I can get a box from the—”

A sigh from Terry cuts him off. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this…”

“Do what?” Daniel asks as the alpha reaches into his suit jacket and retrieves a small device that he sets on the table. “What’s that? Is that a recorder?” He’s seen them a few times in movies, but that doesn’t explain why Terry would have one. “Were you recording this? Why?”

“Leverage.” Terry shrugs. “I told you, Danny. I’m a businessman, and a good one at that.”

Is he really calling him Danny at a time like this? “Stop calling me that,” he hisses. “And what leverage? Nothing I did is illegal.” It isn’t, right? “Not illegal per say but certainly against the contract you and your mother signed.” Terry slides a hand into his jacket again, this time to pull out a folded up piece of paper that he slides across the table. “Take a look at section a, sub-section d.”

With a sneer, Daniel snatches the contract and unfolds to find the specific section, which he reads out loud. “If the omega provides false information or lies on the application or attached documents, such lies are grounds for contract termination.” He shrugs. “So what? Void it? I don’t care.” That’s exactly what he wants.

Terry taps the paper with a finger. “Go on.”

He rolls his eyes but continues. “Once the contract is voided with proof of falsification, the alpha has the right to seek payment for any—” Daniels goes silent as he reads the rest of the sentence then peers up at Terry with wide eyes.

“I take it you understand, yes?” Daniel nods, still too stunned to speak. “Good. Then if you still want to end this date and void the contract, you’re now responsible for the bill and my plane ticket here.” Terry takes back the paper and winks. “And I only fly first class.”

Daniel swallows. He can pay the restaurant bill. It might be everything he has left in savings, but he can, if he has to. But the plane ticket—there’s no way he can pay for that. His mom probably can’t either.

He runs a hand over his face and lets out a sigh. “What do you want? Cause I’ll finish this date. Whatever.” Daniel points at him with a glare. “But don’t expect me to be in a good mood now. Not when you’re sitting there threatening me.”

This earns him a laugh. “Oh, the offer’s changed now,” Terry says, reaching for his glass of wine. “We’ll finish this meal, but that’s not all I want.”

“What then? What more do you want? Cause I ain’t got much to offer.”

“You’re more than enough,” Terry purrs, and Daniel hates how that warms his cheeks. “I want you to come out to California with me—for at least a week. Give me that long to plead my case, or rather, court you. And don’t worry, you won’t be responsible for paying for anything while you’re there, and you’ll get to stay in my mansion, in your own bed. I promise.”

The offer sounds too good to be true. A free trip to California where he’ll get to stay in a mansion with a handsome alpha? Daniel would say yes in a heartbeat—if Terry were anyone else. But right now, he wants to be nowhere near the man who threatened him and interrogated his family. Well, technically he didn’t, but still.

When he doesn’t answer right away, the alpha sets his glass down with a frown “Fine, I’ll leave,” he sighs, setting the napkin from his lap on the table. “The agency will be in touch with you and your mother about payment. Have a good day, Daniel.”

Terry only gets a foot away before Daniel blurts out, “Wait.” He turns around slowly and sits back down.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m probably gonna regret this,” Daniel starts, but when Terry’s jaw tenses, he rushes to finish. “Sorry. I’m just—” He sighs and forces out the words. “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you to California. For a week. That’s it. As long as you leave my mom alone…and don’t ask us for any money. That’s my offer.”

A sharp smile worms itself to Terry’s lips. “You got a deal.” Daniel sighs in relief but startles when his plate is pushed toward him. “Eat up, Danny-boy. Our plane leaves in a few hours.”

He sucks in a breath. Yeah, he’s gonna regret this.

#my writing #fanfic #should i post this on ao3?#silverusso #cobra kai #terry silver #daniel larusso #terry silver x daniel larusso #the karate kid 3 #abo #silverusso au #alpha terry x omega daniel #arranged marriage #sort of #terry is terry and he gets what he wants

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scottishcat1988 · 1 month ago

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I've realised can't fix stupid who can't accept that other people have different opinions than themselves. I think is a childish thing to do other bloggers' pages to harass them by sending an Anonymous to post about someone, who you don't balls speaking to that person put your name out there! But I know we know, you were weirdo people who would gaslight and twist people's words to make them sound like they were crazy!

I want to put my foot down to speak up about your stupid idea of a person (my friend) in your reality to see that person hate J2 by your thinking person hates Jared and you are jealous of Jensen. Because he getting all attention.. Like looking weirdo freak did give attention to my friend's posts by reading it.

Last check my friend is a fan of Jensen and Jared, I have still opinions with my friends too to know their feelings about Heller and Jensen toxics fans are horrible and shallow people who hate Jared for your guys are belief fucking lying assholes like Misha who making bullshit stories up for knowing "not true!" Jared doesn't get hated on and get death threats for the stupid ship it doesn't exist! You gross and disgusting people you are the only reason why you are fans of Jensen as a piece of meat for your feed sick disgusting sexual fantasies about Jensen. By the way, Jensen told your guys that he sees Cas as a friend and brother, and Dean Winchester is a straight man why is too difficult for your guts don't understand from your village idiot brain to realize straight men can be friends with other men, the same to women too. Let you know, I don't give a shit about getting hated on for supporting my friend who is fighting a good battle by always speaking the truth.

If don't like seeing people like my friend are calling your toxic unhealthy behaviour out and if don't like people like me are supporting that person. Well, y'all kiss our ass and fuck off!

Have a nice weekend. Keep wasting your life by tweeting or posting about a man who doesn't love you back, he doesn't have the knowledge you are existing. Kept living your breaking dream alive, butt-hurt loser bitches!✌🏻

P.S. I won't say sorry for being a fangirl for loving @Odayssincejensenwasobjectified’s works. Yeah, I see that person as my friend, because we both have the same opinions. That person is so awesome!❤️

#Odayssincejensenwasobjectified

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bonbonshideout · 1 year ago

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EyelessJack headcanons

Behavior:

♤ When he feels a certain e.ption, some of the tar from his eyesockets begin to leak and ooze out of his mask.

♡He hates his appearance, wearing his mask to hide it, he hates how he no longer had eyes, how his skin is just... gray.

◇ He wears his mask 24/7, even when comfortable, he fears taking it off will disgust or scare the person.

♧Though possessed, he still has his human consciousness, occasionally appearing when killing/hunting. He has many regrets in his life that led to his now appearance & lifestyle.

♤.If angry, tar will ooze from the holes from his mask, and he will be silent. He's usually very verbal, but when it comes to anger, he doesn't know how to properly express himself.

♡ 0fc, he loves his kidneys, he can eat other meats and animal organs as well. However, he does prefer human kidneys as they give him a sense of being full for longer.

◇ Like a Satry, he can play the flute/horn. He doesn't play much but uses it as a last resort to hypnotize the person and kilthem in a secluded area.

Appearance:

His body type is that of a satyr, half human and having the lower half of a goat, his ears also that of a goat (though Chernabog is depicted as a gargoyal-like being I feel he would look more like Baphomet). He can wear human clothes. his iconic black sweater being his usual piece, he can wear pants and shoes; usually baggy pants to hide his legs, his shoes being filled with something so his hooves don't slip out. He usually walks with a limp, but the shoes cause his limp to ve much more noticeable. Always wearing his mask, he has his hood pulled over his head as a way to hide his ears as well, his disguise and mask being the only things that give him some human normalcy in his life. As I,mentioned, I see him as a satyr, however, unlike a satry, he doesn'thave horns; if they do grow, even a Iitle stud, he scratches away at them, leaving his head bloody as well as his fingers, when they are a decent size he breaks them, after enough times they just stopped growing.

#eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta fandom #eyeless jack fanart

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cerberus253 · 20 days ago

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After seeing the post about drago having a sibling that is part shark or orca

When i readed about the orca part, i couldn't help but imagine like, drago and the other demon sorcerers just looking at some dolphins just cause of having nothing to do

But then just see the sibling orca massacre all the dolphins in the area and drown they (since dolphins have a hole to breath in their head and have air when underwater) simply out of boredom and toss they in the air like a ball, kinda of toying before killing they.

To when get questionated, the sibling just shrugs and says "what? I was bored, and honestly, dolphins aren't as fun to torture like seals.. that's their name i think? Wait- oh yeah, it is seal.

(And if you want, how do you think each demon sorccerers and drago would react to that? Since yeah, i can imagine the orca sibling being like that, but worst and more cruel with humans.)

Dolphins. Bai Tza hates dolphins. Their innocent looks, their beady eyes, their annoying noises, and their intelligence and actions too similar to Man itself. She wants them gone, extinct even! None of her siblings would help because it sounds more like a "Her problem," so she thought maybe Drago's weird, disgusting half-orca sibling could do it, seeing as how vicious they are and how desperate they want to belong. Despite their freakish existence, maybe they could be useful.

Bai Tza gives them the task, along with an army of Demonic Sharks to aid in their genocide against those dubious water beasts. The Half-Orca sibling was elated to help, since dolphins bullied them as a child. The Delphinida War has begun.

Shendu

He saw the entire ordeal stupid and a waste of resources, but watching his subjects cower watching the once blue waters of the ocean turn blood red, reminding them of his family's influence is EVERYWHERE and there is no chance of escaping their reign. The Half-Orca was unprofessionally playing with their victims, which also made Shendu laugh.

Po Kong

Although upset at first about scaring all the fish away, the Half-Orca said to her to try a piece of dolphin. Funny, ever since Po Kong took a liking to eating human meat, she barely thought about trying anything new outside of her culture's meals. Apparently, it tastes like beef liver with an aftertaste of fish. Po Kong demanded that half of the child's spoils be brought to her as a deal to not make a fuss about this intrusion with her sister.

Xiao Fung

Well, Xiao Fung was definitely not expecting his sister to go this far, but she has always had an icy heart. This even definitely scared off any seafarers looking for trade, but it was amusing to see the gruesome playfulness of the lot, watching the dolphins get flipped in the air and the sharks going into a feeding frenzy once they hit the water again. Definitely more amusing than the gladiatorial battles of late.

Tchang Zu

So much bloodshed, it could make a stoic warrior like himself shed a proud tear! However, the fighting was so unstructured and barbaric; there was absolutely no warrior skill performed, only bestial violence. I guess this is what you get with an untrained half-demon, just another disappointment!

Tso Lan

Like his brothers, Tso Lan just thought this was absurd, even for his sister, but she was always a violent queen when someone pushed her far enough. It doesn't really affect him, and he doesn't care about Earth's organic life, so he has no hard opinion on it, just a little confused. Was she getting bored from tormenting seafarers? Who knows, and he doesn't care to ask.

Dai Gui

Yes. Good. Those weird fish (Dai Gui would think they're fish) are being slaughtered. They are too cute and graceful for his kingdom of anchored earth. They mock him and his existence and he wanted them gone for a very long time. Maybe the Half-Orca would be willing to share some flesh of these fallen dancers?

Hsi Wu

What the fuck is wrong with her? I mean, yeah, she's the most cruel one in the family, but a genocide against some mildly annoying animals? These dolphins must have crossed her one too many times! Hsi Wu also enjoys the screams of pain, but those dolphin screams started to get annoying rather fast. Well, at least there will be more fish for his subjects to catch.

Bai Tza

Incredible! They did such an excellent job at eradicating those dreadful traitors! She tried recruiting these creatures multiple times in the past, but they always sassed her and swam away. How dare they disrespect their master! Their Queen of the Sea! Well, if they won't join her, then they are against her! Although it is near impossible to kill every last dolphin in existence, she made sure if anyone had a lead on a dolphin that was missed, she would reward them decently if their lead was true. The Half-Orca would be rewarded by allowing them to hunt the thing down.

Drago

Listen, Drago wants to be noticed and respected by his relatives, but this was...petty? Like, yeah, they're annoying, but going so far as to kill them all off? Although respectable, the action felt more of a child's than a centuries old Demon Sorceress. The Ice Crew was disgusted to the point of puking, and Drago called them babies for it, but after a while even he was getting sick of it. Thank goodness his Half-sibling was on a Mission and too busy to bother him, or else he would probably get unexpectedly slapped by fishy dolphin meat. One too many heavy-ass seals were thrown at him, nearly breaking his back half the time.

#ask #anon #jackie chan adventures #jca #dolphins #orcas #half-sibling #reactions

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romancethedawn · 2 years ago

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Selkie!Luffy AU pt.1

Zoro reached for another chicken leg just as the rubbery fingers of his new captain snatched the tasty morsel right out from under his nose.

An annoyed growl escaped his throat and he sent a fleeting death glare at the idiot before sighing and reaching for some of the only food left on the table, a platter of fresh caught fish that had remained miraculously untouched by Luffy.

The swordsman didn’t question it though. All he knew was that he was hungry as hell after three weeks of being starved and beaten, and if the empty pit next to him didn’t slow down soon he’d go hungry again. So he quickly began devouring all the fish he could before Luffy caught on.

Sadly, it didn’t take long for the red menace to take note of Zoro’s new meal. In an instant those big doe eyes were being directed right at him, as Luffy made soft whining noises in the back of his throat like some damn dog.

The swordsman gritted his teeth and continued enjoying his food while resolutely ignoring his persistent companion.

The bastard had eaten everything else on the table, it only seemed fair that Zoro got to eat something! After all, he was the one who had been STARVED!

“Uh…uhmmm… Z- er… Mr. R-Roronoa… sir?” The little cabin boy who had been clinging to Luffy like some kind of lamprey for the past couple of hours finally spoke up. He’d talked a bit during Zoro’s rescue as well but he hadn’t been very vocal since their return to the inn run by Rika’s mom.

“What?” Zoro pushed out the word through his mouthful of fish before taking a sip of ale and shooting the kid a warning glare. It wasn’t that he hated the boy. He was just too soft, it rubbed Zoro the wrong way. Kid needed to toughen up.

“Ah! Er…. Well…” The boy startled a bit before continuing to stutter through whatever he wanted to say. Zoro sighed, perhaps he’d been laying the big scary bounty hunter act on a little thick.

“What is it, kid?” He asked again, trying to make his voice more friendly and less… gruff. He couldn’t help but snort when the kid startled again, this time at Zoro’s sudden shift toward kindness.

“W-well… D-do you think you could let Luffy have s-some of the fish?” His voice had gotten higher with every word until he was practically squeaking. It was honestly a bit difficult to decipher what he wanted. Zoro raised an eyebrow in question and the kid, Koby he thinks his name was, laughed nervously before looking away, a distinct redness tinting his cheeks. “I-I was only with him for a couple of days before we got here, but in that time I learned that Luffy loves fish more than anything!” He exclaimed in all seriousness. Causing Luffy himself to burst out laughing.

“No, No, Koby! You’ve got it wrong!” His captain crowed, the hint of laughter always in his voice shining even brighter. “I love MEAT more than anything!” he cheered excitedly, holding up the last piece of meat at the whole table, which Zoro noticed with some chagrin was also the last piece of fish he’d been staunchly guarding. Damn… The bastard was more slippery than he’d thought.

Luffy, still laughing like an idiot, then proceeded to shove the entire fish in his mouth, head and all. Zoro was about to yell at him about choking on the bones and other things he’d heard the women in his village nag their children about, when the rubber wonder pulled the fish out of his mouth again, only this time it was missing the meat and all that was left were pristine bones.

Both Zoro and Koby stared at their friend with varying looks of concern and disgust. Zoro remembered hearing that a walrus was able to suck the skin right off a seal before but he’d never, not once in his life, seen a human being do anything similar.

It was in that moment that he resolved to never get near Luffy when he was eating. Ever.

“O-oh… sorry I-” Koby bowed his head in disappointment, but perked up quickly when Luffy ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for looking out for me though, Koby!” Luffy grinned, it was one of those way too bright ones that immediately entranced anyone who happened to be looking at it. Zoro included, he was ashamed to admit.

The red tint to Koby’s cheeks only got more intense and the young boy quickly ducked his head to hide that fact.

“So tell me, Captain…” Zoro started, taking another swig of ale, forever thankful that Luffy had taken one sip and promptly spat out the drink declaring it ‘yucky’. He didn’t think the two of them could ever get along if the straw hatted idiot kept drinking Zoro’s booze the way he ate his food. “Where’s the rest of the crew?” He continued, curious to meet them and see what other odd personalities Luffy had no doubt drawn to his side.

However, instead of starting to excitedly list off names like Zoro thought he would, Luffy just stared at Zoro blankly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. The act was equally as bewitching as his smile and Zoro was starting to get annoyed with this kid. Seriously, did he have the sun trapped beneath his skin or something? This level of brightness was just way too much.

“Oi! I’m being serious!” He growled at his new found Captain. The sound of Luffy’s laughter died immediately and he just smiled warmly at Zoro instead.

“They’re not like Zoro,” he finally answered, “we still have to find them!” That stupid grin continued to stretch his face like nothing had changed and, Zoro supposed, nothing really had. Luffy was still Luffy and Zoro was still Zoro. They’d figure out the rest as they went.

Deciding this was a fine enough answer for now Zoro shrugged and went back to his food.

“Can’t be helped then.” He said before shoveling the very last bite of fish and rice into his mouth and taking another messy gulp of his ale. “What about your ship?” After hearing that there wasn’t a crew, his hopes weren’t high and judging by the way Luffy started badly whistling and Koby was avoiding eye contact even more than usual, he guessed it was pretty safe to say they didn’t have a ship either. He sighed heavily, was he going to be the only person with any forethought on this crew? He hoped not. It seemed like a cursed existence.

“Weeeellll…” Luffy started by drawing out the word to make it as long as possible and Zoro felt something in his forehead twitch. Probably a blood vessel straining from all this idiocy. “I do have a ship. It’s just… not super cool…” The rubber captain finished dejectedly.

Zoro opened his mouth, to comfort his childish captain or scold him, he wasn’t sure. But Luffy bounced back quickly, he was made of rubber after all, and his eyes were practically sparkling when he turned to his new first mate again. “But don’t worry, Zoro! We’re gonna get a better one really soon and it’ll be awesome! We’ll sail the Grand Line and find the One Piece! Just you wait!”

Staring into that way too bright smile with those big sparkly eyes blinking up at him, Zoro couldn’t bring himself to knock the kid down, so he simply smiled indulgently at him. “I’m sure we will, Captain.” He agreed easily enough and his positive reaction seemed to make Luffy even happier because he kicked his smile up a few notches, practically blinding his poor swordsman.

“That being said…” Zoro started as he stood from the table and kicked his chair in. “We probably need to get out of here before those Marine’s come knocking. We may have freed them, but Marines are Marines. They’ll want our heads soon enough.”

Koby looked like he wanted to disagree but Luffy had already gotten to his feet and settled his straw hat back on his head before the boy could even get the words out.

“You’re right. Let’s go!” Luffy threw his fist up in the air excitedly. Zoro simply nodded his approval and slipped his swords into his haramaki. Koby spluttering and protesting all the while.

Zoro had to admit. Parting with the kid was rough. Not because Zoro had any particular attachment to him. Koby just cried. A lot. Then the little squirt finally got the guts to toughen up and actually hit Luffy! Granted, he was only capable of doing so after Luffy backed him into a proverbial corner… but Zoro wasn’t one to dwell on such things.

Although, that look of horrified realization on his face right after he’d done it did make Zoro chuckle under his breath and hide his grin in his shoulder. So it was more of a win for Koby than the poor kid would ever realize.

After all was said and done they ended up at the docks loading the supplies Rika’s mom had so generously given them into Luffy’s absurdly small and ragged “boat.” Although, after watching the spectacle that was Luffy eating, Zoro wasn’t so sure these supplies would last them much more than a day.

When the last sack of apples was loaded into the little dinghy Luffy threw his arms behind his head while blowing a rather loud and long raspberry and flopped into the boat back first.

His drop caused the boat to rock violently back and forth for a moment. Zoro quietly cursed his captain’s impulsiveness before stepping into the vessel himself.

“So…” he started as he took his seat in the little dinghy, “where to, Captain?”

The boy in question giggled brightly before sitting up fast enough to make the boat rock again as he pointed to the distant horizon.

“To adventure!” He cried happily.

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