#EIGHT MY LUCKY NUMBER

[aritamargarita]

no pressure bby but are u still gonna do those oneshot requests 👀

YES YES I AM. I SWEAR I AM! they are in my drafts im so serious. when i did the poll thingy (the one shots didn’t win ☹️) and im not exactly sure which request i should put up. i want to get to the point where my requests are just always open but it’s a bit difficult and i want to get these out FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT!!!!!

anyway, enough of my ranting, here’s a all 8 of them,

jeff hardy x reader (love triangle with trish) THIS ONE IS LITERALLY ALMOST DONE LIKE ITS ON THE EDGE

undertaker x reader (nsfw) i am really struggling writing this to be honest because im not experienced LOL

brian pillman x reader (nefarious backstage shenanigans and trolling people) this one is in the works too

bret hart x reader (beef backstage but then we make out and it’s okay) this one is also on the edge of being done

kevin nash x reader (nash has a crush on reader and reader is painfully oblivious for the most part) i liked this one a lot but it is also still kind of halfway done

shawn michaels x reader (reader is jealous but shawn finds it pretty hot) literally this one is on the edge too

edge x reader (random stuff i decided to do headcanons of heel!edge x possible heel!reader) AND SPEAKING OF EDGE. i got him too

scott hall x reader (i freestyled with this on god, mootie requested this) i was on the dj booth so i did hcs for these too

[tiringwritings]

they’re back to sending edit to each other’s

[wizardbuckets]

eight is the best number‼️ fuck everyone who likes seven‼️ all my eight enthusiasts rise up against the seven enjoyers‼️ seven sucks and eight is better and i will die on this hill RAAAAGKGKGSKAJDKFL

[pumpkin-n-mc]

dragging myself across the finish line one more assignment!! and then small :3

[cfcreative]

Boy it is strange and deeply flattering to have people I don’t know IRL invested enough in my OC to pay attention and do art of them. 💕

Mutuals Mutuals Come one COME ALL!!!

Put your various sona's and appendages together for the unveiling of a lil' something I've been working on while being distracted from animating Dame Aylin's wings (Its long, hard, fun as all hell but the concentration required to do so seems physically impossible for a beast of my genus)

I drew all my moots tavs/pseudo-companions!!! It took a bit, but it was well worth it! Everyone's design is so unique and fun to figure out. (10 is a big number of moots)((which I am very grateful to have :3)) So without Further Ado!!! (there will be so much more Ado):

(page break cuz the images are 400x400 each but 10 times, I also go on for a bit about how much I like each Tav/pseudo-companion character) ((if anyone can give me tips on how to size pieces in a normal style digitally i'd be very grateful))

First of all is Sivvus the Fey Prince (he/him)! This elusive Eladrin Tav belongs to @thedomesticanthropologist! A gorgeous yet seemingly cold-hearted druid who tends to keep his cards close to his chest. Though if you want the challenge you can see for yourself if you can try and get close to him to see if Sivvus is as closed off as he seems to be. To be quite honest, Sivvus really grew on me. A very fancy Eladrin with a high society (fey society) upbringing ( with very good looking mood boards to match) and the like only for him to be thrust into the bg3 world with a worm to boot. He is charming! Also his backstory? <3 Defienetly go read it! 10/10 would draw the snob again :)

Second off we have Gum (He/They)! A Githyanki Cleric of Mystra. Being @piipaw's Tav you'd find this charming fruit lover trying to live a peaceful life after escaping from the creche that raised them. I like Gum a lot as the concept of a githyanki trying to find their own way in Faerun while also having no idea about any of the social customs is very gripping to me. I recommend greatly to check out the blog for Gum fics, fanart and a very cool moot . :)

Next is H'rayn of Verkos (she/her)! Now different from all the character's I drew, H'rayn is not a Tav! She's actually a pseudo-companion character with a lotta lore and history! She even has her own quest, party banter, approval and disapproval things. It's the whole deal!! @githkisser made an amazing post all about H'rayn . If you want a ton of indepth and fun info that's really really well documented, I cannot overstate how much you should it check out! I find myself going back to learn more about H'rayn as she really is as well thought out as in game companions! It's quite fun thinking up of ways tavs can interact with her and the art is mwah!!! very good indeed :3

4th! Tavern (Tav) the Bard! (they/them) This darling bard ran away from the circus.....from birth! Created by @avocado-writing, Tavern plays their way into your heart with their silly antics, warm heart and eldritch pocket dimension in their chest!

Tavern is a doll to doodle and I am amped to draw them even more in the future. The heterochromia and the inclusion of instruments does make them a fun challenge (i will draw instruments accuratley with these paws eventually). Go check them out!! :D

5th! Hvinidyr the Barbarian (he/him)! @star-bear-art (I just realised after all this we aren't actually mutuals. Which is funny since we kinda have the same name and theme with the bear thing XD) If you wanna see wonderous art of Hvinidyr as well as the other companions, go look right over here!

Winnie (Hvinidyr) has a lot of forms depending on the time period you wanna look at. The one I chose was the most recent with the large scar tissue all over the left (right? I'm horrible at directions, my paws don't make an L shape for me to tell). He was really fun to sketch out (and probably later colour in) and has a really unique design that I appreciate :)

6th Vierlin the Enchantment Wizard (and a lil' bit rouge)!!!(she/her) @sybaritick's Tav!!! Now!! This classic drow has a keen intrest in enchantment magic, teaching her crafts to nobles in Amn. After the whole tadpole fiasco, she also finds another use for her multitude of arcane skills. Most notabley depicted with a local wizard.

Now I won't get ahead of myself here but the fics that Sybaritick wrote about Vierlin are like....licking a warm pan of thickened maple syrup or a fancy meat meal with so much demi-glaze you're left smacking your lips for at least 20 mins after eating. Its indulgent. And I couldn't recommend it enough!! Read it!! (it took me a good 8 times to get the 'ie' part of Vierlin's name right, the letters look the same to me)

7th Fink the Spores Druid (they/them) belonging to @causticcontemplation! They're a pretty short Tav a 2.5ft and have a whole modern AU fic about them!!! You can read all about it here! (the pun name is amazing!)

I found it cool to use the fic to figure out how to colour them in, I ended up sending an anon ask instead and it helped great! Lovely Tav 10/10!

8th Korydass the Druid!! (She/her)!!! Conjured by @cfcreative, this seemingly non-emotive bronze dragonborn lights a spark in viewers as her tail and love for nature portrays otherwise. Art of Kory is many and also very good. Reading through her lore is fun watching her dynamics with the different origin characters change as she opens up to the party.

Now I do have slight bias, I like drawing Kory the most since her head shape is less humanoid. It's just so satifying, also her design is crazy awesome to work with so all around its great recommend I like her a lot :3

9th Asheera the Paladin (she/her) produced by @optiwashere.

To be quite honest I wouldn't even have a blog if it wasn't for Asheera's fics. They are EXCELLENT. If you want to go through a journey of a half orcs struggles, successes and gripping romance with Shadowheart, VAULT YOURSELF into Opti's A03 page and devour. You will have negative regrets about it just like I! Asheera is great I love her a lot I am the most normal about her.

(I'll keep it brief since this post is long enough to cross a river)

10th Quin the Bard (he/him) composed by @quinthebard (who'd have known?)

This darling plucky bard is the star of an ongoing comic that is very dynamic and very gripping. (My fave panel is this one). Despite being 100, Quin still maintains his joyful and kind nature when traveling with the tadpole gang.

Definetly one of the most friendlies Tavs out of all the ones i've drawn. (he was also the first i drew out of all of these!) He's a delight!! Go check him out! Thanks to all my moots for giving permission, having such great characters and being such lovely moots! <3 <3 <3

(Any pronouns or other changes that want be changed, feel free to DM about it. I love those! )

[0cta9on]

Train Ride to Heaven

length: +3k words

Genre: Smut

NewJeans Hanni x Male Reader

(Author's Note: The winner of the first smut poll! I wrote this entire thing in 1.5 sittings, so it's very rough and unedited. Nevertheless, hope you horny sickos enjoy it <3)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

A weary sigh leaves your lips as you rest the back of your head against the trembling glass of the subway. Eight years of college, even more years of brown-nosing just for a sliver of a chance at a promotion, hours of sleep lost from nights working overtime, and where did it land you? A thankless office job that considers you more of a number than a living, breathing human being. After all that, you get to go home to a loveless marriage with a woman you know for a fact is cheating on you with her personal trainer, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. Hooray for you.

You feel the subway slowly creep to a stop. A few more of those and you’ll finally be able to sleep and pretend like you're dead for a couple hours before doing it all over again. A lone girl, at least 18, walks into the car and takes a seat directly across from you - an odd move considering the entire car is completely empty aside from you. You try to ignore her, opting to get some shut-eye before you get to your stop, but you can’t deny the shift in the atmosphere from her presence. She’s a pretty young girl, all alone at this time of night. You could do anything to her and no one would even know. You shake your head at the thought. No good can come from a perverted old man like yourself.

“Psst…”

Although, there’s no fault in thinking like that if it stays in your mind. A cute girl like her could easily be taken advantage of. In fact, she’s lucky that you’re here instead of an actual sicko that would try to put their hands all over her.

“Psst… Ahjussi…”

This shitty marriage has got you all pent up. Not like you would have any energy left in you, especially after a day like this. Lucky you. Maybe if you pray hard enough, whatever god is up there will pity you and summon a woman that’ll throw themselves at you. If only life were that easy.

“Ahjussi!”

Your eyes shoot open from the sudden noise. The girl sitting across from you giggles to herself as she smiles at you. It isn’t immediately obvious due to her innocent features, but you can tell that she’s hiding something behind that smile. Something sinister, even. How exciting.

“What?” You ask. Her sly smile only grows as she subtly raises her skirt. Little by little, she reveals the supple flesh of her thighs, firm and plump. You know in the back of your mind that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t be exposing herself to an old man like this, but the second you see that little bit of white cotton in between her legs, all common sense flies out the window. Suddenly, she lowers her skirt, much to your disappointment. Your emotions must have been obvious as she cackles sweetly, pointing at your face. Embarrassed, you lean back and shut your eyes, hoping she’ll leave you alone for the duration of the ride.

“Ahjussi~” she teases in a sing-songy voice. “Open your eyes~” Like a fool, you follow her orders without a second thought. This time, however, the reward is greater than you could have ever imagined. Her white cotton panties are there in full view for no one else but yourself, drawing you in like a siren. The girl bites her lip as she traces circles around her crotch, more for you rather than herself. Your cock begins to strain in your pants, begging to be set free.

“Come here,” she says, beckoning you with a single finger. You quickly do as she says and sit next to her. Up close, you can see just how deceivingly innocent she is with her big, round eyes and her thick, pouty lips. Anyone would walk by her and assume she’s a classy and upstanding student, not a little slut teasing random old men in a subway (Not that you mind).

“My name is Hanni, what’s your name?” She asks, gripping the sleeve of your blazer while she plays with herself under her skirt.

“I-I, u-um, m-my name is-”

She brings a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Actually, I don’t really care, I’m just gonna call you daddy,” Hanni giggles. You force yourself to take a deep breath in an attempt to remain composed, but inside, you’re cheering like an addicted gambler finally hitting that sweet, sweet jackpot.

“So Daddy, what are you doing riding the train home this late at night?” The lilt she puts on that word is enough to drive you insane, but you try to hold back, not wanting to scare her off if you appear too eager.

“Uh, y’know, just getting home after a long day of work. Boring office job and all that. Nothing you would find any interest in,’ you sigh. Hanni pouts, looking at you with a sympathetic expression.

“Awww poor daddy, you must be so stressed.” She holds onto your arm, pushing her perky breasts into you. Your wife has never given you so much as a glance in your direction whenever you showed up exhausted from work. She’s probably too busy texting her personal trainer. Hell, she’s probably fucking him right at this very moment. It’s only fair if you get to have some fun for yourself, right?

“Yeah, I suppose I am pretty stressed. On top of that, my wife has been cheating on me with this personal trainer guy she met a couple months ago.” As soon as you mention your wife’s adultery, a hint of a smirk appears on Hanni’s lips.

“Oh no~,” she says, feigning pity. “Maybe I can help you… feel better?” She puts your hand on your chest and inches it downwards, all while maintaining eye contact with you. Her face is close enough for you to feel her breath on your chin, but just far enough for her to escape if you try to kiss her. All you can do is wait as you feel her hand getting closer and closer closer to your raging erection. Everything fades away but the pumping of your heart and the gentle brown of her eyes. Finally, a guttural groan escapes your mouth as she grasps onto your cock, stroking it through your pants.

Hanni giggles at your expression. “Does that feel good, Daddy? Do you like it when I play with Daddy’s cock?” All you can do is nod as she continues to toy with you, rubbing and squeezing along your shaft. It’s been so long since another person has touched your penis that you almost finish right then and there, but you continue to hold it in with steely determination.

“Daddy’s cock is so big and thick, I don’t know if it’ll fit in my tiny, little mouth.” Hanni leans into your ear, tickling your skin with her breath as she whispers, “Maybe we should find out.”

“Y-yes, god yes,” you practically beg.

“Then tell me what to do,” she says. “I’m your little whore for the night. Treat me like one.” Those filthy words coming out of her pretty mouth is a memory that you will never forget until the day you die.

“Fucking suck my cock, you slut,” you command her, a little too enthusiastically. Even in the prime of your relationship, your wife would never let you talk to her like this. To have your commands followed by this cute girl is heart-poundingly exhilarating. You feel like a whole new man.

Hanni fiddles with your belt buckle at a snail’s pace. You try to do it yourself to get the ball rolling, but she swats your hand away.

“Let me do it by myself, Daddy~” she pouts. With a nod, you lean back and let her have her way, succumbing to the desires of her cuteness. If she wanted to, she could easily take over the world with her looks alone.

After unbuckling your belt and unzipping your pants, all that’s left is the fabric of your underwear separating your dick from her glossy lips. Hanni places a few gentle kisses on your bulge, drawing a moan from your belly. Giggling, her fingers hook around the waistband and pull it down at a tantalizingly slow pace, leaving you to wait as your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Finally, your member swings up, almost hitting Hanni in the face. Her jaw drops as she gazes at your length, a look of surprise and a little bit of fear in her eyes.

“Oh shit…” she whispers to herself before shaking her head and putting back the sultry appearance she had before. “I can’t wait to choke on your big, fat cock, Daddy,” she smirks as she begins to stroke your shaft. Hanni’s hands are much softer than your wife’s, and even more skilled as she cups your balls, applying just enough pressure so that it doesn’t hurt. You watch with bated breath as she leans forward, eyeing the tip of your cock for a moment before it disappears into her open mouth. The sound of your moan echoes throughout the subway car as Hanni sucks on your tip, slowly taking in more of your length with each bob of her head. Even your wife’s cocksucking skills pale in comparison to hers, you almost feel bad for the guy that she’s fucking.

“Yes, good girl, Hanni. Suck that dick, you fucking slut,” you encourage. You notice her ass sticking up in the air, and thanks to the rumbling of the train and her bobbing motions, her skirt rides up just enough for you to peek at the white panties covering her ass, giving you the bright idea to reel back and give her a good, hard spank. She moans into your cock, heightening the sensation. 

“I bet you like that, you little whore.” You yank her up by the hair, forcing her to look at you, saliva covering her mouth and chin. All the inhibitions and common sense you had before are completely gone, leaving nothing behind but animalistic desire.  “Say it. Say that your daddy’s little fucktoy.”

“I’m daddy’s little fucktoy,” she repeats, giggling at you. Satisfied, you release her hair and sit back, watching as she alternates between deepthroating your shaft and sucking on your balls while she strokes your entire length with her spit. You would happily quit your job and live at the subway instead if it meant you get to have this petite sex doll all to yourself every night.

Suddenly, the train comes to a stop at one of the stations and a man stumbles inside. The two of you scramble to cover up, hiding any semblance that the two of you were doing anything indecent. Much to your dismay, the man sits nearby, making it difficult for even small gestures to go unnoticed. He’s clearly not a student nor is he an office worker, so why the hell would he be riding the subway this late at night!?

“Wait,” Hanni whispers, pointing at the man. “Look.”

Confused, you watch as his body begins to sway with the movements of the train. Upon closer inspection, you notice that his eyes are struggling to stay open and his clothes are disheveled. Clearly, he’s either drunk, faded, or both. Finally, BAM - he knocks out on the seat, completely unconscious.

Hanni stifles as she gives you a knowing look. “He’ll be out for a little while so…” She bends over the seat, shaking her butt at you. “Fuck my little pussy with that cock, Daddy~,” she teases, winking back at you.

Pounding with excitement, you release your cock and stroke it back to life, while your other hand pulls down her white cotton panties, finally revealing her pinky honeypot to you. With Hanni’s saliva as lube, you line up your tip with her cunt, teasing her moist folds.

“Are you ready, baby?” you ask

“I’m so fucking rea- MMPH!” She struggles to stifle a moan as you completely bottom out inside of her, all in one thrust. So slick and so tight, you don't even care about comparing her to your wife anymore. All you want to do is ruin her little pussy and use it as your personal cocksleeve. You sink your fingers into her hips, pulling her into you with each thrust and watching her cute ass jiggle against you.

Fuck that stupid company. Fuck your stupid bitch of a wife. Your entire life you were told what to do, how to act, and what you should look like in order to succeed in life. You followed everyone’s orders to a T, even going above and beyond to obtain that success that was oh so coveted. But look where you are now - eight inches deep into some girl you just met tonight. Fuck the “high-paying job” and fuck the “hot wife”. If this isn’t success, then you don’t know what is.

“O-oh my g-god… Y-you’re so f-fucking h-huge…” Hanni squeaks in between thrusts, desperately trying to control her volume. You’re unsure how much longer you can manage, but it doesn’t matter. Whether she likes it or not, this slut is gonna leave with a gallon of your cum deep inside of her.

Hanni’s body begins to shake violently. “I-I… I’m cumming!” She shrieks wildly. You pull out of her, watching in astonishment as she squirts all over the seats. And your wife said you could never dream of satisfying a woman - if only she could see this now. 

“H-holy shit…” she says, leaning her head on your shoulder as she gasps for air. “That was… fucking insane.” Both of you laugh as you wait for her to get down from her high. Miraculously, the man didn’t notice her ear-splitting orgasm, still completely out cold.

Suddenly, Hanni straddles your lap, wrapping her arms around your head. “I noticed that you didn’t cum yet, Daddy.” She gyrates your hips, rubbing her wet slit against your tip. You figure she would still be sensitive after the first round, but it’s clear she was built purely to fuck. “Maybe we should change that,” she says, biting her lips.

“Maybe we should,” you smirk. Hanni kisses you as she drops her hips onto your cock, causing her to moan into your mouth. Not wanting to give up dominance completely, you shove your tongue down her throat, filling two of her holes at once. The wet slapping of her bouncing on your cock echoes throughout the car, and at this point, you don’t care if that man wakes up or not. He could be completely conscious and recording you right now, but you still wouldn’t stop plowing this little minx. In fact, you secretly hope that he is recording right now - the whole world should know that this fucktoy named Hanni is yours and yours alone.

You rip open her top, exposing her perky tits. They are on the smaller side, but they’re big enough to jiggle with each bounce and that’s good enough for you. Hanni grabs your head as you latch onto her tits, licking and sucking every inch of her chest. The pressure begins to build in your loins and you know the end is coming soon. Wanting to milk every drop of this experience, you stand up, supporting Hanni by the ass, and begin ramming into her with every ounce of energy you have left. Rather than a 40-something-year-old man, you feel like you’re reborn again into your 20-year-old body. You feel the familiar tightening of Hanni’spussy around your member, and with one final thrust, your body is elevated to Heaven. Shooting rope after rope into her deep cunt, the high is nothing like you’ve ever experienced in your lifetime. Not even your wife- Ah, who cares about her. She’s nothing but dirt under your foot, while Hanni is an angel sent from above.

You gently place her down on the seat before collapsing next to her, shutting your eyes so you can replay this entire experience in your head. Never in your life did you think you would ever get this lucky. The train comes to a halt, and a hand pats your shoulder.

“Sorry Daddy, but this is my stop,” she giggles as she skips towards the open doors. Despite the rough pounding you just gave her, she somehow managed to look presentable in the short time that your eyes were closed. “I’ll see you around, Daddy~”

The last thing you see is her wink before hopping off the train and disappearing into the night. You’re disappointed that you didn’t ask for her contact information before she left, but you’re confident that you’ll cross paths with her again in the future. Surely, whatever god that heard your prayers isn’t that cruel, right?

As you approach your stop, you quickly get yourself sorted, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention from passersby. If your wife asks about any mysterious “stains” on you, you could easily attribute it to being clumsy while drinking. Not that she would care enough to ask anyway. 

Upon exiting the car, a police officer stops you as you approach the stairs.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says. You try to ignore him, hoping that there’s someone behind you that he’s referring to, but unfortunately, nobody else is around. “Sir, I need to talk to you for just a moment.”

“What’s the problem, officer?” You ask, hiding your panic behind a nervous smile. A whirlwind of questions swarm your mind. Is this about Hanni? Did you get caught? Was it that drunk guy that sold you out? Beads of sweat begin to form on your head as the police officer questions you.

“There has been an increase in robberies in the subway recently and I just want to ask if you saw any suspicious individuals lurking around the subway.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the heat isn’t on you. “Well, no officer, I haven’t seen any suspicious individuals around,” you reply.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “All the victims have described the suspect as being a short Asian girl, about 18 years of age, with big brown eyes and black hair. Does that ring any bells for you?

An alarm blares throughout your head. Surely he’s lying, right? Maybe he’s talking about a different Asian girl. There are probably thousands, no, MILLIONS of people that fit that criteria. Besides, you and Hanni shared a special connection tonight. She’s the answer to everything that ever went wrong in your life, an angel sent from Heaven to cure you of your miseries. Hanni wouldn’t lie to you, right?

You dig through your pockets, frantically scrambling for your wallet and your phone. You feel something in your pocket and pull it out, only to be filled with dread at the sight of it - white cotton panties.

[unlosts]

Two Pair.

Summary: After a rough case Spencer keeps you company while the rest of the BAU sleeps.

A/N: I posted and then deleted this right away, but here it is again. I'm working on a couple of longer one shots but I still wanted to get something shorter out.

“Okay, whatcha got?” You ask, eyes narrowed taking in the lanky 6’ something man sitting across from you, his expression unreadable.

“I have a two pair” He says, sounding resigned, probably already well aware that he’s about to lose.

For the second time in a row. 

“Ha! A straight flush! Read em’ and weep doc” You said smugly, and perhaps a tad too loudly since what comes next is a loud shushing noise from the lump in the couch formerly known as Derek Morgan. 

“Sorry” You whisper back. It’s around 2am and most of the team is sound asleep, even Hotch who’s usually the last one out, the only ones still awake were you; whose adrenaline was still pumping strong after a car chase resulting in a very near miss, and a very much dead suspect. It had left you jittery and off balance, the sensation of failure hanging heavy on your shoulders and leaving you unable to close your eyes for even a few minutes, much less sleep. 

Spencer seemed to be in a similar state even though he had been left at the station, working on the geographical profile when you headed out. 

So three rounds and two winning hands later here you sat, no closer to sleep than before but his company was soothing.

Spencer operated on a set of carefully crafted routines, from his mornings in the bullpen at the BAU (One coffee with at least four suggars, eight crossword puzzles and at the very least a couple of newspapers before he could start on the seemingly never ending pile of case files haunting his desk), to the post case decompression routine (A chess match against himself or a poker game, usually against you). 

You found it soothing to watch, the expected repetition letting you know that you could relax, that everything was over with. 

So here you sat, in the back of the plane with only Spence’s long legs crammed in the smaller seat in front of you, knees bumping yours every time you so much as breathed.

His book light was the only thing illuminating your poker game and the harsh shadows cast over the table did make it harder to distinguish the numbers (the fact that you were refusing to use your glasses didn’t help either). 

A small stack of peanuts sits between you both, acting as poker chips. 

Despite your clear gloating Spencer just smiles at you, seemingly equally pleased, and keeping his losing hand close to his chest. 

“So, feeling any better?” He asks while shuffling the deck. You go towards the kitchen, softly squeezing Spencer's shoulder in gratitude as you pass by him. The tense wiry muscle underneath his soft purple shirt gives in to your touch and you linger for a second, giving him a small smile before you go. 

“Much, in fact i’m going to get a cup of tea and hopefully doze off for a couple of hours” You reply from the kitchen. 

“Remind me again of the chances of winning twice in a row?” Chimes in Derek unexpectedly from the couch, his eyes are still closed and even though you can’t see him he’s sporting a knowing smirk. 

“Um well it’s about 4% actually” Answers Spencer awkwardly, giving the kitchen a furtive look to make sure you’re not really paying attention to the conversation. 

“Huh, guess I must have gotten pretty lucky then” You say, too busy making your tea to hear Derek's response to Spencer, quiet but still teasing exclamation of “My man”

But when you did return to your seat right next to him you couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks were a tad pinker than they had been before. 

[hcsiqs]

Kate being drunk and getting all shy w reader until its time for them to go home and she finds out that reader is her gf and just gets starstruck☹️

| my girl

• pairing: drunk!kate martin x fem! reader

• summary: ^^

• warnings: alcohol lol

i’m obsessed with this idea omg

The entire Iowa team was out celebrating after their win against LSU, over the moon about beating them in Elite Eight.

Kate was had just finished another drink, no one having an idea what number she was at now because of how many she had thrown back. You had kept an eye on her the entire time, but were letting her enjoy herself with her teammates as you stood off to the side talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend for most of the night.

But what you hadn’t realized is how absolutely drunk the blonde was. She had barely came up to you the entire night, which was different from her usual clingy and touchy drunk self. And every time she did come up to you she was shy and her cheeks were bright red.

As you were sat down sipping on a fruity drink while talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend about whatever it was, the Iowa team was encouraging Kate to go talk to you. Most of them dead about the fact that she had seemed to forgotten that y’all were dating and that she had already been through the whole ‘crush’ phase with you.

“Just go!” Jada encouraged with a slight shove as giggles left her lips. Your back was still turned away from the team, not seeing the interaction go down.

“No!” Kate argued back, terrified of your rejection. Plus she knew that she would completely shut down just due to your absolute beauty.

“Dude!” Jada dragged the word out before giving a final shove, making the blonde end up right behind you.

But then you felt someone tap on your shoulder, causing you to turn around. You were relieved when it was just your beautiful girlfriend standing there, but you noticed her avoiding eye contact, something she was usually good with unless she was nervous.

“Hi,” she smiled giving a small wave, “I’m Kate,” she introduced herself to you. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty,” her words slurred together as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Thank you,” you let out a small laugh, “Don’t know how my girlfriend would feel about you saying that though,” you smiled playing along with her drunken forgetfulness.

“Oh!” her face turned as red as a tomato in that moment, “I’m sorry, so sorry!” she apologized quickly. You could tell she was now completely taken over by nerves as she still stayed looking at you. After a couple of seconds your girlfriend walked back, seeming as though she had been defeated because you were already taken but then only a minute or two later Gabbie and Jada were using all their body strength to push the blonde back over to you.

“Hi,” you smiled at the girl in front of you, taking in her flushed appearance.

“Hi,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, as her eyes found a home looking down at her shoes. You hoped up from your seat so that were now standing in front of her.

“I’m ready to go back to the hotel baby,” you wrapped your arms around the girls torso, bringing her into a hug. Kates arms didn’t wrap around you though. They only ghosted your back, unsure how to respond in this situation.

“Shouldn’t you go back with your girlfriend?” she asked, utter confusion in her voice. And that’s when you realized this wasn’t a joke and she was so drunk she had forgot you two were together and wanted ti flirt but was too shy.

“Kate you are my girlfriend,” you laughed, placing your chin against her chest so you could look up at her.

“What?” her jaw practically dropped. Her blue eyes searching your entire face in all its perfection. “‘m so lucky,” her lips formed into the brightest smile.

“Come on let’s go back to the room,” you pulled out of the hug and reached for her hand. You said bye to everyone, but Kate was solely focused on you and the way you moved. Her large hands had now found their familiar place on your hips as you guided her out the bar.

Once the cold air hit the two of you she placed a kiss on your forehead, her earlier shyness disappearing. “I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend! Like—you’re dating me? That’s so crazy!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was so excited to be yours.

“You’re just so pretty. I can’t believe it,” her words were slurred, but that didn’t make it mean any less.

“You’re pretty,” you smiled back at her before going on your toes to leave a simple kiss on her temple.

“You’re my girlfriend,” she giggled and then continued repeating the word ‘girlfriend’ over and over again, never getting enough of it.

allies corner

i hope this lived up to ur expectations!! but this plot is so cutie patootie eeeeee

[l4ndon0rris]

A Love for the Ages CL16

A collection of short stories of yours and Charles unique love story through the ages

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader // sibling!Pierre a/n: i have a lot of this already pre-written in my drafts so there will be scheduled uploads regularly - each short flashback in time will begin with the same intro you see below - if you want to be on a taglist lmk

All eyes were on you, the white wedding gown that clung perfectly to your body, your impeccably crafted hair paired with flawless glowing makeup. There was no denying you looked ethereal standing at the altar gazing into his familiar eyes: those eyes that had comforted you, cried with you, looked at you with desire, had burned with anger and softened with apologies. The eyes that have witnessed dark days and brighter ones now bore into your own; you saw a flash of anticipation in them waiting for you to mutter the two words joining you together forever. Those eyes transported you back through everything that led you here, to this altar, holding his hands, about to embark on forever.

8 years old

You were a typical eight-year-old with lots of friends who all obsessed over the latest boyband, your parents’ victims to hours of being the audience for your self-choreographed dance routines to a variety of songs. You were lucky, in hindsight, to have so many friends around you at a young age. Sleepovers were your favourite thing to do for birthdays; Pierre, your older brother, was always allowed to have his own friend over for company whenever you had a sleepover. It was a rule that annoyed you at first - sleepovers were an only girls allowed territory - but Pierre and his chosen friend typically locked themselves in his room and played on his gaming console so you knew he wouldn’t interrupt.

You were running around behind your mother in an effort to help before your friends arrived; your mother was ensuring there was enough room for their sleeping bags, double checking the fridge was full of enough food and drink cartons and accepted your idea of placing the CD player in the spare room so you had enough room to practice your dance routines in private before the big show you would unveil later in the night.

“Charles is here!” Pierre exclaimed as he darted past you toward the front door to let him in. You followed your mother, choosing to linger in the nearest doorway as she greeted Charles’s parents taking his overnight bag from them and welcoming him into the house. You vaguely recognised Charles' round face from one of Pierre's racing weekends.

“Here you are, Charles. Have fun you two!” You spotted a hand ruffle the top of his brown head of hair, another handing him a gift bag he shyly took. Your mother and his parents exchanged numbers in case of emergency before closing the door. Charles stood with a gift bag adorned with a pink bow in his hand when he spotted you staring his way curiously; Pierre’s friends were usually all older than you but Charles looked younger, he had an innocence in his eyes that matched your own.

“Pierre said it was your birthday, so this is for you – happy birthday,” Charles politely spoke, walking toward you, the bag with the pink bow held out in front of him. Looking between the gift bag and your mother she silently encouraged you to give your thanks and ushered the three of you into the front room to place the gift bag on an empty table.

“We’ll put any presents here for now - that’s so kind of you Charles, thank you,” your mother reiterated, not quite satisfied with your shy mumblings of appreciation you gave. None of Pierre’s friends had ever brought you a gift before so this one was already your favourite out of them all.

“Let’s go upstairs and play my new game!” Pierre was already visibly bored, bounding up the stairs, Charles followed behind politely and gave you a small friendly smile you shyly turned away from.

“Let’s put some music on shall we? Your friends should be here soon,” your mother turned on the CD player you had already set up with three CDs to rotate between that would earn approval from your friends. You took the opportunity to peek inside the lone gift bag on the table, glittering pink wrapping paper in the shape of a box sat inside. You wondered what the strange new boy with brown floppy hair had bought you when he didn’t even know you.

Charles had undoubtedly intrigued you from the moment you first met him.

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

[whateveriwant]

Beside

Simon was the perfect boyfriend, until he wasn't.

~1.2k words. Angst, mention of alcohol, mention of sex/18+. This is just a little something that was plunking around my mind.

Simon Riley, who met his younger, civilian girlfriend at a rundown pub one night. 

You noticed him the moment you entered your local dive, not just because he was a new, handsome face in the crowd, but because of an inherent magnetism that seemed to pull your gaze to him. Though he was a bit older than you were used to chatting with, that didn't stop you from accepting his offer of drinks when he approached you at the bar. And after sharing a few friendly pints and a few more-than-friendly touches, he ended up heading back with you to yours for the evening, and the rest, well, was history.

Now, it's been over eight months since you first got together, and you couldn't be happier. Simon is probably the best guy you've ever been with. He's kind, smart, funny as hell, and fucks you like no man ever has before. He really is the perfect guy for you, just with one small caveat: how rarely you get to see him.

Because of his job in the military, he's gone more often than he's in town. When he's not jetting off to God knows where, on average, you spend about a week with him each month; maybe a week and a half if you're lucky, though you rarely are. Hell, he's away so much that he doesn't even bother holding a permanent residence anywhere. His home is his little corner bunk on the base across town – the one you've still yet to visit, despite your asking. 

Naturally, you've tried floating the idea of having him move in with you permanently, but he's always assured you that he's content as is, that it'd be more stress than sense to relocate so far away from his work. 

And you understand, or at least, you try to see it from his point of view. Simon's always been a private guy – a man with no family or friends to speak of, apart from a few colleagues he's forced to interact with semi-regularly. His choice to not want to cohabitate is not an indicator of his feelings towards you. He simply likes having a little space purely to himself, that's all it is.

But even knowing that doesn't make it any easier of a pill for you to swallow. There's only so much that late night calls from private numbers can do or so many pretty gifts in the post that can fill the void Simon leaves whenever he's not around. He's there for you as much as he can be, you know that he is, but you just can't help that you still want more.

It's one night, about five weeks since you've last seen your boyfriend, that you decide to treat yourself to a little pick-me-up. You're at a store that's a bit out of the way compared to where you normally shop, but they have that cheese spread you really like, so it's worth the drive.

As you're mindlessly perusing the shelves, looking at everything and nothing in particular, a noise coming from the aisle over has your ears instantly perking up. That sound. You know that sound. The deep, rumbling timbre that almost has your knees buckling in the middle of the shop.

You follow the noise, sure your ears are mistaking you, but pause mid-step the moment you round the corner. There he is. Your boyfriend. In all his tall, strapping glory. You'd thought that was his voice seeping through the cracks between the shelves, but couldn't quite believe it since you didn't think he'd returned home yet.

You grin, overjoyed to see him, and take a step forward to approach. But just as soon as you move, you stop dead in your tracks, suddenly confused as you take in the scene ahead.

Simon's standing directly beside an overflowing trolley. But not just any trolley. One that holds two little boys, both looking not even old enough to attend school yet.

The sight has you stunned, the smile on your face faltering. Who are these children? And why is your boyfriend watching so closely over them? 

You're trying to decipher the situation from afar when another figure quickly grabs your attention. A woman, a few years older than yourself, walks up beside the trolley your boyfriend guards. Simon turns to look at the woman as she places something in the cart, a warm smile curving her mouth when he notices her. The children seem happy to see her return, and upon inspection, they appear to be her sons – the same hair, same eyes, same smile as they gaze up at her.

But the boys’ reaction is not what concerns you, what has your stomach twisting itself in tight knots. It's the way Simon reacts that leaves you stunned, that has you dumbstruck beyond all hope for redemption.

Simon, your boyfriend, smiles just as happily back at this woman. Simon, your boyfriend, gives her that look you’d only ever seen reserved for you. Simon, your boyfriend, reaches out to softly caress her cheek. And Simon, your boyfriend, leans forward, closing his eyes, until he's connecting his lips with hers.

A second passes, maybe five or six, where you just stand there, watching, unable to comprehend what you're seeing. Your mind feels like it’s firing at a million miles an hour, but it has nothing on how fast your heart is beating, threatening to bruise against your ribcage. 

After a moment, the two of them pull back, looking like a picture ripped right out of a catalog. The woman reaches up to brush some hair off Simon's forehead, a ring glinting on her fourth finger catching your eye with the movement. The oval cut diamond is especially blinding as she then drops her hand down to her middle. Your pupils pinpoint as she rubs her swollen belly, which can't be more than four months along, you'd wager.

As you look between them – the woman, the children, the man you've been with for months – slowly, so slowly you think your brain is made of wet cement, the pieces of the puzzle finally click together in your mind.

The realization makes you feel instantly lightheaded, thinking you're seconds away from emptying your stomach all over the shop’s freshly swept floor. Your throat slowly constricts, your hands beginning to shake, and before you can register what's happening, your basket of groceries falls to the ground with a clatter. 

The resounding noise draws the attention of all the nearby shoppers, including a pair of familiar brown eyes that immediately snap to yours. You lock eyes with Simon for just a second, before you're turning on your heel, abandoning your supplies in a scattered mess. 

Tears flood your vision as you flee the store, your body on autopilot as all you can think about is getting out of there. You're trembling as you fumble with your keys, dropping them twice as you bolt through the car park. When you finally reverse out of the lot, you don't even notice how a car or two honks their horn in warning. You hear nothing but the blood rushing through your ears, the static buzzing loudly around your skull. The voice in your head is shouting, absolutely screaming at the top of its lungs.

My God. My God. What have you done?

__________

A/N: Just so we’re clear, Simon Riley would never ever cheat. But for angsty fanfiction purposes, let’s pretend like he would, okay? Okay, cool. Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 2

Trigger Warnings: Marking, Angst, Misogyny, Sexism, Trauma

The weather had turned cold and it was starting to rain. The wet droplets burned the open wounds on Y/N's body. She said nothing to them as she followed them through the woods, stumbling along. Y/N wouldn't let any of them touch or help her. She could see that her behaviour was annoying the alpha but still said nothing. Her thoughts filled up with what might happen to her. She would be alone with male wolves who have never been involved with an omega. Didn't one just recently turn into an alpha? Y/N sighed at the thought. Wait. How many are in his pack? Y/N was starting to panic. Her alpha had seven other wolves, along with two other male omegas. "What is it omega?" Chris stopped to ask. He could see her thoughts rattling around her head. "How many of you are there?" Y/N asked nervously. "In my pack. There are eight of us." Chris said with a small smile. Anyone could see on his face how proud of his pack he was. They meant a lot to him. "You have two other alphas? One has just recently turned?" Y/N asked. She knew new alphas were volatile during their first few years. They could be extremely irrational and impulsive. Their anger could get the better of them and they weren't safe around omegas. "Hey," Chris said. A soft look on his face. "Jeongin won't hurt you. I won't let him. I swear to you omega." A growl erupted from Y/N's mouth. Her lips turned into a snarl causing Chris to lock his eyes on her. He wanted to discipline her but he couldn't. Not yet at least. Changbin on the other hand thought it was so funny. He had never met anyone who could infuriate his alpha. At the same time, Changbin felt sorry for Chris. Everything his alpha had ever wanted for his pack was an omega. Chris had sacrificed so much for his pack. He deserved an omega. They all did. Now that she was here everything had changed. Every imagination they all had of their omega was thrown completely out of the window. She had an attitude and it seemed as if she wouldn't easily submit.

Chris huffed at her actions and slightly stormed off forward, wanting to head home. He was feeling too many emotions: anger, frustration, disappointment, rejection. "Omega..." Changbin started before a growl erupted from the girl's throat. "What is your problem?" Changbin snapped at the younger female who looked down. "So, uh, little wolf..." Jisung tested out a new nickname. She doesn't seem to mind that. "Is that okay? If I call you little wolf?" "Mmm," Y/N answered sadly. It was better than being called omega. Jisung accepted her response. It was an improvement. "What is your favourite colour little wolf?" Jisung asked. He was hoping if he made small conversations she would become more open to them. "Grey," Y/N said. "Not like a dark grey. An ashy grey." "Like your eyes?" Jisung asked with a smile. "They are sometimes more silver... In the winter." Y/N added, making the slightly older wolf smile.

Admittedly, Jisung did worry about how the others were going to react. Some of them did not take well to others. In particular their second Alpha, Hyunjin. He could be a cold dismissive man with new people, particularly wolves and omegas. Then there was Minho who didn't like things sprung on him and often would make him extremely agitated. Not only that, Seungmin has been in a grumpy mood recently. Jisung wondered if he should warn her but he didn't want her to run, so he decided against it. He didn't want to leave a bad impression before she met them, even though it seemed she knew who they were. Instead, he opted for more generic questions. Ones that were not too invasive, like her lucky number, favourite flower, or favourite animal. It was a quick way to pass the time until they eventually reached their large open house. Their home was more like a cabin with two floors. It was very open and spacious, consisting of windows and ledges. Except for the back part of the house that branched out into a smaller cabin. That was used for something else.

Y/N stopped behind them, noticing how different their home was compared to her last home. This had a strange feeling to it. It smelled homely. It smelled like burnt wood and cinnamon, but there was an underlining floral smell. Her old home smelled like the forest. It was very earthy and didn't have a lot of comfort. This place, however, felt different. Something in her soothed her. "Your home?" Y/N whispered. "Why does it smell like that?" "What does it smell like? To you?" Chris asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest as he watched her nose twitch in curiosity. "It smells... Nice. Different." Y/N whispered, "It smells warm." "Do you want to come inside so Felix and I can check your wounds?" Chris asked as he held out his hand, pointing towards his home. Y/N nodded and followed him up the stairs and through the door. She noticed his hallway was rustic. Not too dark, but had enough to let the sun shine through. Y/N looked around curiously as Chris walked her through his home. When they reached a room, that looked as though it were a medical office, Y/N was smacked in the face by a sweet citric smell. It was so strong. "Hi." The voice was sweet and angelic. It almost wasn't human. "Omega, are you alright if I have a look at you." The voice said again, but Y/N's senses were all blocked up leaving her completely confused. Y/N tried to ground herself but his overwhelming sweetness englufed her. "Hey, omega. Are you alright?" The voice whispered again, grabbing her arm, causing her to snarl, making the male jump back.

Y/N didn't know what happened to her. She didn't understand why her senses were so confused. It was only when she looked at the male that she saw a guilty look on his face. He used his gift to distract me. It annoyed Y/N the way he used his scent to calm her. It was manipulative. "I'm sorry." The male apologised lowly as he noticed his alpha's glare. "Felix. What. Did. You. Do." Chris' voice was harsh as he looked at his beta. "Felix. She needs to feel safe here. What were you thinking?" Chris growled lowly making Felix bow his head in cowardness and submission. "There are thirty-six marks." Y/N openly said, causing the two males to look at her. "There are thirty-six marks," Y/N repeated, showing her arms before slowly pulling her light blue stained t-shirt over her head. There were bite marks all up her arms, on her side, under her breast, and across her neck. Some of them were bloodied purple and red. Some of them were green from infection. Chris couldn't believe his eyes as he looked down at the marks. What have they done to her? My omega. Chris couldn't help it, he had to reach out to her. He had to touch her. As carefully as he could, Chris softly touched her shoulder. A warm tingling sensation shot through her body. She jumped at his touch. Not because he touched her, but it was the feeling he gave her. It was a feeling of comfort, hope, home. Y/N wanted to embrace but she couldn't. He was not hers. He couldn't be. "Omega?" Felix called out, causing her to growl. Chris rolled his eyes at her outburst. "What happened to you?" Felix asked as he slowly lifted one arm, inspecting the wounds on her arm. "I got bitten," Y/N said as if it was obvious.

Felix just nodded, carefully inspecting each bite. Some of them he poked and pressed, others he was more careful with. Felix could tell by the bite marks they were done by different wolves. Some of them were deep, and some of them were surface level. Some of the bite marks dragged down a couple of centimetres. Felix did not understand how someone could treat an omega like this. It astonished him. Even Chris was concerned. Hell, he was furious. Every bite marks Felix touched he would growl. It wasn't until Felix pointed out an obscure bite mark that was planted just below her scent gland that he lost his shit. Chris couldn't believe his eyes. Someone marked his omega! Everything in his body made him turn feral. His wolf was scratching at the surface, ready to turn. Felix knew at that moment he could not hold his alpha back. Once he was angry that was it.

[paperultra]

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better.  Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

[miiyas]

Hi Atlas! Hope you are doing good. Can you please do a atsumu x reader fluff where reader is from karasuno who comes to cheer for the team in nationals. Sorry if this is vague i don't know how to put this. I love your fics thank you!

LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN

atsumu was lucky to be getting your number and to be wearing your favorite number on his jersey

fluff, wc: 1.1k, gn reader, really rushed ending, lovesick tsumu, pre-ts, not proof read

atsumu miya wasn’t one to bother looking at the opponents side of the bleachers. he didn’t care if their school banner was fancy, he never cared if the girls up there were shouting his name. when he’s on the court, he’s on the court.

so he caught himself off guard when he heard your pretty little voice shouting throughout the gym and by then, he just had to have a glimpse. and by god, was he glad he did. with your little twirls and jumps of excitement, atsumu had a sudden, unexpected hint of lingering jealousy that karasuno, some stupid, stupid underground team with some freak first years, had you to cheer them on.

you were pretty, he has to admit. he wonders where you got that karasuno boys volleyball zip up jacket and imagined how black and gold would look on you.

his school track suit, not karasunos.

as the court line up faces the large crowd and band on their side of the court, atsumu nudges osamu slightly, mouth slightly agape as he pants for air.

“oh my god,” osamu grumbles under his breath, already expecting what his twin was going to say. he’s already noticed his brothers wandering eyes, too tired to deal with his bull. “if this is about the one up at karasunos bleachers, i don’ wanna hear it.”

“wha ?! i didn’t even say nothin’ yet !”

“i know what yer gon’a say, ‘n i don’t care.” atsumu scoffs at this, more irritated than he already was. as he bows and thanks the cheer team in front of him, the only few things on his mind was on how his back ached with sweat sticking his shirt onto his skin, how he could really go for a icy gatorade, and how desperately he needed your number. hell, even a simple conversation would be enough for him.

the team disperses and go their separate ways in the arena, getting food or watching other games throughout the extended court. there was a strange craving for something spicy that lingered on atsumus tongue. despite knowing how badly his stomach would hurt after, he goes on his hunt, pushing through the crowd of people.

there isn’t anything particular that catches his eye and he takes note of the small onigiri stall, debating whether he should get a kimchi onigiri for himself (and maybe for ‘samu too) or if he should continue to wander around and find something more suitable.

he glances at the price. seven hundred yen for one, what a deal. as his eyes wander around to the quality of the rice and ingredients being used, he finds himself gravitating to the line.

with a hand in his track suit pocket, atsumu counts up a total of two thousand yen— enough for two onigiris and a drink for himself. he mouths what his order would be quietly, tired eyes glued to the printed menu. the wait from the person in front makes his eyes peel away slowly, honey brown eyes sliding down to see the smaller one in front of him. just as he does, atsumus eyes turn wide and he’s paused from shock.

holy shit. it was you.

you struggle to find extra bucks for a drink, cheeks a little flustered from the embarrassment of taking too long. giving up on finding the money, you sigh shakily and look up at the cashier, an apologetic smile displaying your nervous features.

“shit, uhm, you can put down the green tea bottle, actually.” you mumble out, pulling out eight hundred yen and gently handing it to the hands of the cashier. “keep the change.”

just as you were about to step out of the line and wait for your order, atsumu speaks up, his voice coming out louder than what he expected.

“i can get you that ..!”

with rapid blinks, you turn on your heel to face the blonde, recognizing him almost immediately, panic engulfing your eyes.

inarizakis setter, atsumu miya … how embarrassing this was for you.

“what ..? no, it’s fine, seriously—” without giving you any time to finish your sentence fully, atsumu pushes past you, his right hand slamming down his two thousand yen on the counter while the other sticks up two fingers. there’s an oddly determined look on his face, which only makes you cringe slightly.

“two kimchi onigiri and one oi ocha !” there are now three fingers sticking up and the cashier hesitantly nods, tapping on her screen and giving atsumu his receipt. the blonde steps out of the way as he receives the bottle, looking down at you and handing the cold drink over. as you were going to take the bottle away from his hands, miya snatches it away, a smug grin growing on his lips.

“if i give you this,” he teasingly shakes the bottle, lifting it up so it was just out of your reach. “you need’ta gimme yer number.”

“what.” you deadpan, irritation hinting at your voice.

“your number.” the blonde repeats, lips tugging up as he sees your face turn into a rosy pink. there’s a pretty smile that grazes your features, and atsumu swears that he feels his heart skip a beat.

“… fine.” you sigh out, looking around for something to write on. there’s a napkin dispenser and you slip one out, finding a pen by the counter to write your number on.

“you’re lucky i like the number seven.” you grin out, scribbling your number on the paper. at your words, atsumus terrifying combination of pride and ego inflates, straightening his posture to make sure the bold number was to be shown. you place the pen down on the counter of the onigiri stall and fold up the pale napkin, handing it over to the blonde. “let me treat you sometime. it’s only fair.”

a little stunned, atsumu simply accepts the napkin and nods. he swears he wanted to kiss you right then and there, take you out and spend all of his money (and maybe ‘samus too) just to see you smile over and over again.

with a breathy exhale, he nods with calloused fingers rolling the corners of the napkin. he’d like that. he likes that idea a lot. to go out with you in casual atmosphere with your carefree smile shining all for him.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

you smile politely, and atsumu feels his ears burn red. adrenaline thoughts get interrupted by the call of his orders. two onigiris, neatly wrapped in plastic, await for grabs. as he watches you take your drink and onigiri, the surrounding feels all too warm as he hears you ask where the two of you should sit. his heart thumps in his chest as you look around the stadium, trying to find a seat for two.

gosh, so sorry, ‘samu. you’re gonna have to buy your own onigiri this time.

[nohoney]

imagine: you just had a nasty breakup and you decide to take a break from serious dating and have a hot girl summer for yourself. just sex zero commitments fuck as many people as you want. the problem arises when the first guy you end up fucking, bakugou, is so good so you decide to keep him on as a fuck buddy while you continue looking for future conquests.

little do you know that bakugou fell head over heels for you after that first night together and now he’s doing everything within his power to get you to fall in love with him, that is everything short of actually telling you his feelings because he’s so emotionally constipated and damn near bites your head off when you playfully joke that he might have a crush on you.

oh my god oh my god (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

bakugou tries to keep his cool so bad, doesn’t ask questions or doesn’t want to think about how you’re still out there seeing other people aside from him. he feels a little ridiculous that it seems to be a one sided thing—he’s got your contact pinned to the top of his text inbox, he keeps toiletries of your preference in his home, and hell he gave you his passwords for two of the streaming services he pays for!

it’s all shit that he thinks screams i fucking like you!

and yet he can’t muster up the actual words to say it out loud. because you don’t want to be tied down, you want to experience being single after your shit break up, and you don’t trust any person right now to handle your heart after what you’ve been through.

bakugou respects all that, but he really really wants you and you’re the only one he wants to be seeing. he’s so damn stupid though because you joked one time about him having some feels for you and he was too quick to snap at you.

“this is only for fun, that’s it.” he reacts instinctively even though he knew he should have said otherwise in that moment. and there was no awkward silence or weird look with how fast he reacted to your joke. only a laugh and an agreeing nod as you dipped a strawberry into a little bowl of nutella he had ready for you as a post sex snack.

“yeah, i’m sooo grateful that you’re my number one right now. can’t believe how lucky i was to get you on the first try!”

number one on your roster, it’s a title that bakugou is happy to have and also hates it at the same time. there’s others after him, numbers two to four or maybe you’ve got eight people on your list—fuck!!!

it drives him crazy!

he doesn’t want to drive you off with these stupid feelings, and he’s especially smug when you text him about some date that had pissed you off beforehand and that you’re heading over to his place. he hopes that the sex he gives you is so good that it’s enough for you to reconsider just making him your only fuck buddy. he quite literally prays on the downfall of your dating life so that he’s the only one around.

so for now he settles with letting you sleep in his bed when he fucks you too hard, hoping that the breakfast he makes you in the morning screams the message i can be your boyfriend.

[sigilslvt]

Love & Lies • Toji Fushiguro

☣︎ Summary: You were once a horseback rider that people would kill to have on their tracks knowing they'd make good money betting on you. Things change, however, when a certain assassin with a gambling problem comes into your life.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Tags: fem! reader, ex boyfriend! toji, light angst, mentions of gambling, mention of animal death, manipulation, smut, brief oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie

WC: 2.7k

Art: arokushisu_11 on Twitter!

A/N: I would genuinely let this man drain my bank account as long as he fucks me like this immediately after, I'm not sorry.

I can fix him.

You had always made fun of women that claimed they could fix toxic or abusive men. Until you became one of them. Five years you’ve been with Toji. Five years you’ve been dealing with his addiction. You’d be fine if he was addicted to porn or collectibles or something, but no… gambling is his vice.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal, you met him at a horse race, after all. Being a rider, you knew people liked to bet. You thought he was a casual gambler when he was chatting you up to give you some sort of confidence boost because he had placed his bet on you. When you won, he called you his lucky charm and you fell for it. Instantly.

It wasn’t long before you started dating and you winning became less about luck and more about him running you and your horse ragged to make sure that you’d win when he bet on you. You’re still not sure if he was doing it because he just wanted to make big bucks off you or if he just genuinely thought he was helping and giving you motivation when he had you and Shiloh on the track constantly practicing. He claimed to love you, so there’s no way you were just a tool to him, right? Wrong.

Because here you are, two years after quitting because Shiloh broke her leg and had to pass over the rainbow bridge, and your relationship has deteriorated entirely. You no longer spend time together outside of him coming to lay in you guys’ bed at night. It’s become a circle of lies, loss, anger, apologies, and makeup sex. It never fails. He tells you he’s going to change, then he leaves after taking a job only to come back with no money to show for it. Of course, he knows that you wait at the track whenever he’s away for jobs, so he’s switched up his methods. Started betting on boat races, car races, you name it. It makes no difference to him as long as there’s the thrill of the gamble.

Every time it would happen, you’d tell him you were done. You’d scream and shout while he apologized, pleaded, and begged for you to stay after claiming he’d get help from one of the numerous places you’d called for him. Used Megumi as a way to manipulate you into staying by telling you his son loves you oh so much. It’d soften your resolve enough for him to touch you in all the right ways that’d make you forget just how angry you’d been. Fuck you stupid enough to believe him when he’d say he’d change.

This time is different. This time, after getting the notification that thirty million yen had been taken from your personal bank account, you pack your bags instantly. You don’t wait for him to get home, you simply write a note for Megu and disappear after changing your bank, phone number, and social media. You can thank him for one thing after all of this and that’s teaching you how to scrub your existence entirely. You do it well.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been three years since then and you’ve moved out of the city, to the countryside. You’ve managed to live a peaceful life after regaining your funds, buying a small farm and a few horses. You’re happy. You miss Megumi, still. So so much. It’s taken everything in you not to contact Toji just to hear Megumi’s sweet voice again. He’s eight now, old enough to know you’ve gone and likely won’t see him again. You wonder if he misses you. If you hurt him by leaving.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. You brush yourself off, pulling your shorts down so your ass is better covered, and prepare yourself for your horseback riding lesson appointment. It’s the way you’ve been making a living lately, which you’re grateful for, because you get to do what you love and watch others grow to love it, too.

When you walk to your door, you get an uneasy feeling. One that makes you feel like you’re on a rollercoaster about to drop. You push it down and open the door only to see exactly why you were feeling that way. Your breath escapes you and you look up to see none other than Toji. Thankfully, your body reacts before you can even think to and you start to close the door, but his large hand stops it and you know you won’t be able to physically stop him, so you don’t bother to try and force it.

“Please. Please don’t.” Is all you say and his expression contorts into one of regret and sadness. You look away, knowing he’s not going to do anything but try to break you down and you can’t let him. You won’t.

“Just hear me out, doll. I swear I’ll leave if you tell me to leave after, but I just need to… I have to… fuck, I had everythin’ rehearsed, but seein’ you lookin’ more beautiful than when you left, I lost it all. Just give me a few minutes, please?” He asks, fidgeting and shifting on his feet. You’ve never seen Toji like this before. He was always sure of himself, always ten steps ahead, always confident. But the way he’s acting now isn’t even how he would act when he was trying to get you to stay with him.

You can’t find it in you to speak, but you nod, moving away from your door frame so he can step in. When he does, you close the door behind you and lean against it, taking a moment to take a deep breath. Your feet carry you forward to walk in front of him, leading him to the kitchen and pulling a chair out for him. Instead of sitting, you lean against your counter with your arms crossed as if they’ll help your emotional defense. “What is it, To…? After all this time, what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I… you left.” He says, rather plainly. As if he’s still shocked you did it. You nod, gesturing for him to continue. “You left and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t know if somethin’ happened to you, I-I thought someone with a grudge might’ve… I thought the worst, doll. It wasn’t till I saw the note you left Megumi under his pillow that I knew you left. I… why didn’t you at least leave me a note? Would that have killed you? Did our love not mean enough to you? I–”

“Stop. Don’t do that, don’t say that. Our love was everything to me. It wasn’t enough for you, though. Not enough for you to stop gambling so much that you drained even my money. I left without saying anything to you because I meant nothing more to you than being your lucky charm when I was racing for your wins. Don’t act like I did.” You spit, so enraged that you stand up and walk to him, bending down to get face to face with him.

There it is. That expression you were so used to seeing whenever he’d come home pissed from losing his money. “You think I didn’t fuckin’ love you? You think I was just, what? Keeping you around for shits and fuckin’ giggles? I love you so fuckin’ much. I tried to stop! I tried to live a straight life, I did! But every time I came home to see you so sad, so fuckin’ miserable, I broke down more and more. I didn’t know that I needed to do more than just fuckin’ quit. Didn’t know that there was more to a relationship than just providing. But, I know that now. I know that you and I can do this, I can make you happy, doll, just let me make you happy.” He pleads, the anger dissipating with every word he says, leaving only the look of a broken, desperate man.

“No. No, I won’t risk my happiness by allowing myself to fall for this shit again, Toji. I’m glad you figured out how to make a relationship work, I figured as much after seeing your girlfriend’s po–” You stop yourself, swallowing your words.

“You’ve been checkin’ in on me?” He asks and his voice is so hopeful that you feel a familiar crack in your resolve form. “Sh-she wasn’t my girl, she isn’t. I know what it looks like, but I haven’t committed, not since you, I-I can’t. Everytime I… no matter what whore I’m inside of, all I can see is YOU, doll. It’s always your fuckin’ face. It’s your name I moan, I… please. Please, baby, I’ll get help. I miss you, I need you, there’s no one else for me in this fucked up world. I know I took advantage of your patience and I know I don’t deserve you , but I’m askin’ anyway. One more chance. Just one.” He says, getting on his knees in front of you– something you’ve never seen him do during any of his episodes before.

You feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and you look up, trying not to look at the man you can’t help but admit you still love. His hands find your thighs and his head rests against one, his arms snaking around you. “Please…” He lets the broken word out of his scarred lips before he begins to kiss your bare skin, smelling you in between kisses. “Please, doll… need you…” He keeps going when you don’t stop him, your legs beginning to tremble. His hands grip the back of your thighs tightly and he groans as his face lifts up to your clothed cunt, pressing a kiss to it and making your hips buck. “Tell me this ‘s okay, baby…” He says, emphasizing what he means by kissing you there again.

Your lip trembles and you shake your head, your fingers sliding into his hair and pulling his head away from you, making him look up at you. “You need to get help, To… that’s the only way this will-”

“You got it, babe.” He says before you can finish, immediately going back to your thighs, licking a strip up one of them. “M’gonna fuckin’ worship you like I should’ve.” He growls, wasting no time and hooking his fingers into the back of your shorts, pulling them down your legs roughly. You’re about to step out of them, but he stands up and picks you up, putting you on the table and spreading your legs for you.

You cover your face, not having been put on a display like this in so long, but he rips your hands from you immediately, slotting his lips onto yours. The texture of the scar on his lips was something you sorely missed and you nip at his bottom lip, his hips rutting against yours in response, his erection pressing painfully hard against your core. “Mmph, To…” You whimper out before he nods.

“Got you, princess. Lemme do my thing.” He chuckles, kissing down your jaw, then your neck, along your collarbone, and lastly over your chest before he grabs your tank top and pulls it down under your breasts, groaning when they spill out. His lips attach to one and fingers to the other, his slimy muscle working on your nipple within his mouth with a vengeance. Your back arches up off the table and your head falls off of it with a loud moan. He repeats the action on your other breast before moving to kiss below your navel and then your pelvis.

You roll your hips up, trying to get him to bury his head between your thighs already when a large hand pushes you back down on the table. “What’d I say, hmm?” He asks, making you groan and roll your eyes, needy for him. “Bad girl. Such a fuckin’ bad girl.” He hisses before he gives you an inkling of what you want, swiping his tongue between your clothed folds, making you jerk in response. He pulls your underwear to the side with one finger, smelling your slick, his eyes rolling back into his head as he does so.

“Tojiiii, stop!” You beg, embarrassed at how fucking nasty he can be with you. He doesn’t listen, of course, instead immediately plunging his tongue into your waiting hole, making sure to rub his nose against your clit as he moves his face side to side, moaning at your taste. You grip his hair again, your other hand grasping and massaging your breast like the added stimulation will help to alleviate the pressure he’s creating by teasing you. “Please… more…” You beg, breathing quickening as he continues to tongue fuck you.

“F’give me for wanting to enjoy you a bit more, princess. But, since you asked so cutely, I’ll give ya what ya want.” He hums, kissing your clit just once and standing. His hands immediately work to rid himself of his pants and boxers, gripping his fat cock and smacking it against your slippery folds. You look down at it and it looks angry, red and dripping precum from the tip. He smirks seeing your reaction, continuing to wet himself with your slick as he grunts. The second you give him what he wants– a needy whimper, he sheathes himself inside you.

Your pussy flutters and clamps down on his cock immediately, earning a long groan from him as he bottoms out. “Heh. She missed me, huh?” He asks, making you nod and blush. That’s enough of a response for him and he wastes no time flushing his body against yours, rutting into you with a force that only he’s capable of. His thick cock bullies your gummy walls, stretching you around him so deliciously that you can’t form any coherent thoughts or words, really. “Love you s’fuckin’ much, princess. Never letting you go again, n-ugh- never. All mine, y’r all fuckin’ mine.” He grunts out, fucking into you even harder, your table creaking beneath you.

“L-Love you, Toji! Love you s’much, s’deep! ‘M all yours!” You cry out, hands slithering up his shirt and raking your nails down his back violently, but you know he can take it. It only riles him up more. His hands move down to grab your thighs, folding your legs up so he can get in at an angle, kissing you as his tip turns your cervix to mush.

“Still as fuckin’ tight as the day you left, doll.” He growls between kisses and you feel your cunt clamp down harder on him, twitching. “Oh? Gonna cum?” He asks, sitting up, slowing down and rolling his hips against you roughly, purposely delaying your orgasm. “Tell me, princess… tell me you love me one more time and I’ll let you cum.” He hisses out, the slow, deep thrusts doing a number on him, too.

“Love you! Fuck, please!” You beg, trying to fuck yourself on his cock to get yourself all the way there.

“Mmm mm, you know what I wanna hear.” He delivers a punishing thrust into you once before continuing the slow and rough pace.

“I love you, T-Toji! I love you s’much, I’m all yours!” You moan out, earning a satisfied moan from him, his head falling back as he speeds up churning your gummy insides out with his cock like his life depends on it, the table now making concerning noises beneath you as he brings you to your peak and your orgasm washes away everything from your mind, your mouth falling open as you cry out and cum. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock while your cunt clamps down so hard on him that he can barely continue to thrust, which pushes him over the edge.

“Nngh, fuck!” He groans, using all his strength to pull out and plunge back into you while he cums, the force of his thrust so hard that the table breaks beneath you and you both fall with it. He doesn’t bother to pull out, chuckling as he moves your hair from your face, kissing your forehead while you both try to catch your breath. “Missed you so much, doll.” He coos, his eyes so loving that you feel you’ll melt.

“I missed you, too, To… don’t let me down again. Please…” You breathe out and he nods.

“Never again. I promise.”