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madaqueue · 11 days

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forty-love

pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: tennis player gojo, tennis player geto. smut. language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (baby, sweetheart), fingering (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving, very brief m receiving), creampie, cum eating, p in v (doggy, reverse cowgirl). 18+, MDNI

word count: 5.1k

a/n: can you guys tell i watched challengers and miss tennis also yay my first stsg smut (based on their vibes from hidden inventory bc they're just so silly teehee) hope y'all enjoyyy (i also have no idea how this got so long oops)

Heat radiates off the court, the sun beaming down against your skin. The air is dry, tense, the only sound between the chirping cicadas is the bright green tennis ball being thrown against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Gojo readies his racquet, tossing the ball into the air as his eyes meet the glaring sun. In one swipe the crack of his serve electrifies the stadium. The opposing team swings but doesn’t even come in contact with his hit, the ball rattling the fence behind them as applause breaks out.

“And with that, Gojo and Geto have won the men’s doubles!” the announcer’s voice booms through the arena.

The white-haired boy tosses his racquet aside as he charges his teammate, gripping him in a hug as they tumble across the court. Even from the stands their grins are palpable, the shared ecstasy of victory radiating off their bodies.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

“Y’know,” Gojo starts through a mouthful of orange slices, “that backhand you hit during the second set was crazy.”

“Satoru,” Geto chuckles, “you know it’s rude to talk with food in your mouth.” Reaching up a hand, he wipes away the juice that had begun trickling down the other boy’s chin with his thumb. “But thank you. That’s what practice gets you.”

“I practice!” Gojo retorts, continuing to chew the flesh of the fruit.

“When, between all the beer and girls?” Suguru takes a long sip of his Gatorade, his dark eyes never wavering from the bright cerulean of his friend’s.

“S’not my fault I know how to balance work and play,” he teases. “Speaking of which, you’re going to the Nike party with me tonight.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Satoru, we have our final match against each other tomorrow, and I’m not planning to throw the game because you just so happen to convince me to join you in your debauchery.”

“Yes,” Gojo smirks, “because I’m gonna be there, and I refuse to go without you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Geto acquiesces, unable to refuse Satoru’s dramatic pout as he bats his eyelashes. “Fine, but you have to at least let me win a set when we play tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Satoru beams, filling his mouth with another slice of orange.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The party is loud, neon lights glaring against the darkness of the night. Music blares as miscellaneous players chat, chasing whatever brand deal or sponsorship they think they deserve.

You’re better than that, though - after all, you already have your scholarship lined up for school next year, a full-ride to play tennis until you graduate college. The peace of that knowledge allows you to stand at the outskirts of the party, idly sipping your drink, unpressured to force a conversation with those around you.

When Gojo and Geto walk in, you swear you feel the air thicken. Recruiters flock to them, opponents run from them, but everyone who’s anyone knows that they’re here. You roll your eyes at the theatrics, turning your attention to tug at the hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” a sudden voice appears beside you as the smell of cologne hits your senses, the scent vaguely reminiscent of the ocean. Glancing up, your eyes meet the brightest blue ones you’ve ever seen. “I’m Gojo,” he introduces, extending his hand out.

Crossing your arms, you smirk. “I know who you are.”

Behind him, another man suddenly appears, his dark hair pulled back into a bun. “I’m Geto,” he waves, not willing to enter the trap of your rejection by offering his hand.

Gojo’s lips form into a sly grin as he eyes you up. “Well, we know who you are, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he tilts his head - god, he was cocky. “You won the women’s singles today, we caught the end of your game. You played well.”

Taken aback at his genuine compliment, you almost let your guard down, relaxing your shoulders. “T-thanks,” you stammer, suddenly taking in the reality of being flattered by the Satoru Gojo.

“But,” he smirks, “you should’ve won an hour before we got there - your opponent had a weak spot on her forehand volley, you should’ve exploited it.”

And there’s the overconfidence.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Thanks,” you reply sarcastically, turning to leave, “but I don’t remember asking you to be my coach.”

“You haven't, yet.” A devilish smile is plastered on Satoru’s face, illuminated by the glowing lights around you.

“What he means to say,” Suguru interrupts, shooting a momentary glare at his friend, “is that we’d love to play with you sometime. You’re really good, and we can tell you have a lot of potential.”

Your cheeks involuntarily blush at his kindness, his honesty.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” you mumble through the grin beginning to form on your face, still gathering your things to go. The noise of the music was beginning to blur your vision, your head pounding after a full day in the sun. Your muscles hurt, and you just want to collapse into the uncomfortable mattress in your hotel room.

“Leaving already?” Gojo teases as you begin to walk away from the pair.

Geto smacks his arm before looking at you apologetically. “If you’re staying at the same hotel the competition put all the players up in, there’s a way home that goes right along the ocean, if you want us to walk with you?”

“Didn’t you guys just get here, though? Don’t you want to stay and get courted by brand deals or something?” you ask somewhat rhetorically, incredulous that they would choose to leave with you.

“Psh, like we need it,” Gojo rolls his eyes.

With that, Suguru fully shoves him, his lanky limbs nearly catching over a nearby chair before he regains his balance, a pout evident on his face as he stares at the dark-haired man. “Again, what Satoru means is that he’s already got a Nike sponsorship, and I’m on a scholarship for next year; we only came tonight because we had to make an appearance.”

The gentleness in his voice inspires trust, a certain warmth to him that invites you in. Sighing, you accept their shared offer. “Well, I guess if we’re walking the same way back anyways, you might as well join me.”

A soft grin spreads across Suguru’s features as he leads you and a falsely-dejected Satoru from the venue.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The soft sounds of waves crashing fills your ears from where you kneel along the beach, sand scratching at your bare thighs. The two men sit across from you, Satoru’s head resting on Suguru’s shoulder, his white hair illuminated under the moonlight. Somehow your walk home had detoured when they promised to show you their favorite spot, one they had found when they competed here a few years prior: the cove where you currently rest is private, away from the noise of the party or any other remnants of society. It’s peaceful.

You clear your throat, finally breaking the silence. “You two played well today too, y’know.”

Geto lights up at your words, a new excitement brewing beneath his skin. “You watched our game?” His hands continue methodically working over Gojo’s calves which sprawled across his lap, releasing the tension he had built up from their earlier match.

“Of course I did,” you hum, your fingers absentmindedly drawing small patterns into the sand. “I wouldn’t have missed your game for the world. You two are about to qualify for the Open, and I honestly think you have a good shot at winning it.”

“Oh, we’re gonna win it,” Gojo states matter-of-factly, his gaze lazily focused on the sky above you.

You can’t help but laugh at his confidence, the sound bubbling from your throat against the stillness of the night air. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he begins, rising from where he rested against Geto, locking eyes with you, “we’re the best.”

“You aren’t the best,” you scoff in reaction. Hearing your own words, your face suddenly flushes in embarrassment - you did not just insult the two top-ranked tennis players in the country, did you?

Satoru pulls himself onto his hands and knees, leaning forward towards you as his eyes glimmer with the excitement of a challenge. Suguru’s hand rests on his back, ready to pull him back down if he oversteps (as he often does).

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, inching closer to you. “And why is that?”

“Because what you play isn’t tennis.”

Your words seem to stun the two boys, their actions suddenly halting as they turn to you. Allowing a moment of silence to settle, your gaze falls on the waves before you, the calmness soothing your thoughts.

“Tennis is electricity, an ocean. It’s a back and forth, a give and take. All I saw out there was you taking.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with taking what I want,” Gojo smirks, “especially when what I want is to win.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you follow, “but it’s not tennis.” Standing, you brush the sand from your skirt. “I hope to see you two actually play tennis tomorrow.”

Before you can leave, Geto’s voice breaks the silence.

“Come by our room tonight,” he purrs, gathering his confidence. “I’ll show you I know more than just how to take.”

A glimmer of mischief twinkles in your eyes as you turn to him, a sly smile growing across your face. “I’ll think about it.”

Turning, you walk across the beach back to the hotel.

In your absence, Gojo playfully smacks Geto’s arm. “Holy shit dude, that was smooth!” he laughs. “You think it’s actually gonna work for us?”

“‘Us’?” Geto smirks. “I was the one putting in all the work back there, you were just being an overconfident ass.”

“Psh, girls love my confidence,” he chuckles, a sound like raindrops falling on the calm waters of the sea. His blue eyes nearly glow under the moonlight, a brightness to them that’s never lost on Suguru. “Better head back and get ready for our date, though.”

“You keep saying ‘our,’” Geto teases, a newfound warmth beginning to cover his body in contrast to the cool night air as the two stand to leave.

“You know it’s always you and me, buddy,” Satoru smiles, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders as they plod through the sand. “You and me.”

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

A knock alerts Gojo and Geto, who had been laying across the floor of their shared hotel room, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Satoru reaches the door first, swinging it open and welcoming you inside. Suguru, meanwhile, remains seated on the floor, his eyes covering your body as you saunter towards him: the curve of your thighs perfectly captured under your tennis skirt, the dip of your shoulders under your tank top, somehow a perfect balance of strength and poise.

Crossing your legs, you seat yourself across from Geto; Gojo is quick to join, holding out a beer to you. Shortly after he cracks open his own, he tosses another to Suguru as he spreads his legs out into the space between the three of you.

Tension builds in the air, an unspoken question forming in the back of your minds: why are you really here?

Even you weren’t certain - sure, Geto and Gojo were hot, and talented, obviously, a true force to be reckoned with in the tennis world. But more than that, they had a certain reputation, a gravitational pull to them. Anyone who got close to the pair was launched into fame, their very presence enough to garner wealth by proxy. And, yes, you had your scholarship, but was it a sin to want more? You had dreamt of going pro since you were old enough to hold a racquet, and now, with the two of them seated before you, it finally feels within your grasp.

Satoru clears his throat. “So, did your boyfriend happen to catch your game today?” he raises his eyebrows.

Gojo was many things, but subtle was not one of them.

“No,” you state, your gaze maneuvering between the two. They shift uncomfortably, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

They both visibly relax, grinning in unison.

“Good,” Suguru hums, almost inaudible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“What about you, did your girlfriends watch you play?” you smirk, bouncing the question back to them.

Geto is quick to shake his head, “Don’t have one,” he smiles easily.

Leaning forward, Gojo ruffles his friend’s hair, which now hangs loosely over his shoulders, released from the bun that held it earlier in the night. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting his head towards Geto, “his lips haven’t touched a woman’s in a while.”

Suguru roughly shoves him off, a sigh leaving his lips. Turning his attention to you, he forces his frown into a weak smile. “I promise, I’ve kissed plenty of girls.” Tilting your head slightly in jest, his words finally register in his mind. “N-not like that, just, I-”

“I think she gets it,” Gojo jokes, pulling himself from where he landed on the ground to sit behind his friend.

Another momentary silence falls, the energy between you crackling in expectation. Satoru’s hands find their way back to Suguru’s body, idly massaging his shoulders as the pair fixes their gaze on you. Behind Gojo’s irises lies burning hot flames; behind Geto’s, well-controlled embers.

“So,” you eye the boys seated across from you, a subtle intimacy underlying their actions, the gentle motion of Satoru’s fingers into Suguru’s skin, “have you two ever kissed?”

“No.” Geto answers immediately.

“Well…” Gojo trails off with a smirk, “remember that one time?”

Suguru shoots him a glare that could kill, eyes cold despite the fire behind them. “That doesn’t count.”

Leaning forward, a grin tugs at the corners of your lips as the rough carpet digs into your skin. “Oh, do tell?”

Gojo mimics your motions, pulling himself onto his knees in front of you. “Around the time we met, Suguru here, the sweetheart he is, got himself a girlfriend but hadn’t had his first kiss yet. So I, being the generous friend that I am, helped teach him how to do it.”

Glancing at Geto, a redness spreads across his cheeks, one that could be designated as rage or embarrassment, either an appropriate reaction to the information that had been unexpectedly revealed. “That was years ago, Satoru,” he grumbles.

“So you’re saying you’re a pro now, Geto?” you purr, egging him on as you place your palms in front of you, the air between you two sparking. “Why don’t you show me what Gojo taught you then, hm?”

A hint of panic lies behind his gaze as he meets yours, taking in a steadying breath. Despite the hesitation in his mind, his body knows he wants this, wants you. Without a word, he lifts a hand to your face, cupping your jaw against his rough fingertips. Pulling you in, his lips meet yours.

He’s soft, calculated, as he kisses you. Parting his lips he gently swipes his tongue along your lower lip, bringing you closer and closer. He’s patient and reserved, just like how he plays.

Separating for a moment, a small smile appears on his face before you turn your attention to the man next to you.

“Alright, Gojo, let’s learn from the coach,” you hum.

Immediately he crawls over to you, a complete and utter lack of hesitation as his hands find you, one moving to the nape of your neck and the other to your hip.

As his lips crash into yours, he’s demanding, ravenous. His tongue roughly works its way into your mouth, exploring it like his first taste of water after hours on the court, like he’ll never get to kiss you again.

Pulling away, you smile, eyes covering the two men seated in front of you. “Okay, c’mere,” you grin as you seat yourself at the end of their pushed-together twin beds.

“W-which one of us?” Geto asks.

As the words hit the air, Gojo is already moving, plopping himself down at the edge of the bed as he looks at you expectantly. Blinking at his friend’s sudden motion, Suguru follows quickly, seating himself on your other side.

Your eyes meet Gojo’s, a hint of mischief behind the cerulean, before turning to Geto, hesitation and nervousness spread across his features. Might as well make this interesting.

Shifting your body into Suguru’s, his eyelashes flutter closed as your lips meet his again. Grabbing at his shirt, you tug him closer.

“Loosen up,” you murmur into his mouth as your hands travel over his body.

Behind you, Gojo’s envy gets the best of him as he reaches around your torso. Placing open-mouth kisses along your neck, his palms travel over your chest, groping at your tits through your bra. He melds into you from behind as a moan escapes your throat, the warmth of their bodies blanketing you. Geto begins moving his arms, grabbing at any inch of your skin he can find. Before you realize it, your clothes are discarded, the boys’ shirts lost to the depths of the dirtied hotel room. Skilled fingers trace the curves of your body, tingles of electricity left in their wake.

Gojo chuckles behind you as his hands find their way between your legs, fingertips tracing your clothed cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“A bit eager, are we?” he teases, pulling your soaked panties to the side.

Any insults you began to form die in your throat as his long fingers enter you, a choked, “fuck” the only thing you can get out in response. His fingertips prod at your gummy walls, finding the spot that has you rocking your hips forward, grinding yourself onto him. Your moans echo into Geto’s mouth as you chase your release.

Right as you feel the heat inside you threatening to overflow, Gojo’s motions still.

“W-why’d you stop?” you practically whine, finally breaking away from your kiss with Suguru to face him over your shoulder.

That annoying smirk is plastered on Satoru’s face as he leans forward, his hot breath tickling your skin as his lips brush against yours.

“That was me giving, now it’s my turn to take.”

Gojo’s arms reach around you to push Geto back onto the bed, your body still trapped between the two as you catch yourself on all fours. The dark-haired man looks up at you, stunned into silence as his hands rest tentatively on your hips. You gasp as Satoru suddenly pulls your panties down, the cool air hitting your heat.

Your gaze lands on Suguru’s, your eyes wide before you feel the pressure of Gojo’s cock pressing against your entrance from behind you. Your jaw slacks as your eyes roll back, the stretch of him overcoming your senses as he slides in inch by inch. Geto takes the opportunity to latch his lips to yours, imprecisely sucking against your soft skin.

Satoru’s moans fill the space as he bottoms out inside you. “Fuuuuuck, y’feel so good,” he groans, his pelvis resting against your ass.

As he pulls his hips away, his tip barely kissing your folds, his rough fingertips are suddenly felt against your clit. He imprecisely circles the sensitive bud as he thrusts back into you. In unison, you and Geto moan into each other through the kiss.

“Keep strokin’ me, jus’ like that, mmm,” Suguru hums from beneath you.

Fighting against the haze of your ecstasy as Gojo continues rolling his hips into you, you manage to focus your gaze downward, finding Satoru’s free hand wrapped around Suguru’s cock, precum smearing as he pumps his length.

“S’not - ah - me,” you manage to get out through Gojo’s increasingly rough thrusts.

Geto’s eyelids flit open, landing on Gojo’s over your shoulder. As soon as the two make eye contact, Satoru squeezes Suguru slightly harder as his thumb circles his tip, forcing his eyes back into his skull as his hips thrust desperately into his friend’s first.

Satoru chuckles from behind you as he begins to kiss up your spine, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His teeth nibble at your skin, the slight pain making your back arch further, letting his cock reach impossibly deeper inside you. From the new angle, he hits the same spot he proudly found moments prior.

“R-right there, Gojo, fuck,” you moan, your hands tightly gripping the sheets to stabilize yourself against the weight of his body on top of you.

From beneath you, Geto’s cock twitches in Gojo’s palm as he weakly breathes, “Call him Satoru.”

“Mhm, y’know me so well, Sugu,” Satoru purrs.

His thrusts are unrelenting, imprecise, needy. He’s working purely off instinct and lust as he pumps in and out of you.

“Satoru,” you whine, his motions pulling you closer and closer to your release.

“Y’gonna cum?” he breathes into your neck.

You would roll your eyes at the fact that you can practically hear his smirk through his words before a particularly deep thrust pulls a choked “a-ah mmm” from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gojo chuckles. “Me too, baby, me too.”

His tip repeatedly prods against your sweet spot as his thumb picks up its pace against your clit.

“Hey, Suguru,” the man thrusting into you purrs, “tell me, does she look pretty when she creams all over my cock?”

Geto’s eyes flicker open, his gaze hazy as Satoru continues palming his shaft. Suddenly, your vision goes blind in ecstasy. Broken cries escape your throat as Gojo’s cock twitches inside you, painting your insides white, his hips never stilling as he fucks you through your high.

As you come down, Suguru’s words pull you back to reality. “Yeah,” he breathes from below you, “she looks real pretty.”

“Aww,” Gojo fake whines, “well that’s no fair.” He pulls out, his cum threatening to trickle down your thighs as he removes himself from Geto’s cock to grab the man’s hand. Pulling him up, he spins you around so Suguru is seated with you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now I wanna see her cum while you fuck her, Suguru,” Gojo hums.

With that, the white-haired man kneels before you, one palm resting on your thigh as his fingers spread open your folds. He slowly rubs the mix of your shared essence over your puffy cunt, his eyes full of awe.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Turning his attention back to you and Geto, he smirks. “You’re gonna love fucking it, Sugu.”

Finally taking his initiative, Geto lifts you up slightly, just enough to allow his hardened cock to press against your needy hole. Slowly sinking down on his length, another shaky groan vibrates your throat as he stretches you, a searing pleasure against your walls as he fucks Gojo’s cum back into you.

“S-shit,” Suguru mutters, “feels s’good.”

His hands return to your hips, guiding you forward as you grind against him. He’s slow, methodical, in the way he fucks you, a certain precision to his motions.

“Just like that,” Gojo hums from beneath you, “y’look so perfect.”

Your mind is too clouded to decipher if he’s speaking to you or Geto, and truthfully, you don’t care. You continue rocking yourself forward, Suguru’s cock stretching you so sinfully. He may not have Satoru’s length, but fuck, is he thick. Soft moans escape your lips as you lean your head back into Geto, who takes over where Gojo left off, pressing wet kisses over the skin of your neck. Suddenly, Satoru latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue circling your clit as he moans into you.

“Y’taste s’good,” he groans, continuing to lap at your folds, the mixture of his seed and your slick coating his chin.

One of your hands instinctively reaches to grab his hair, pulling him into you as the other holds onto the back of Geto’s neck, tethering you to reality.

Feeling the tug at his scalp, Satoru smirks into your skin. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

The moment you open your mouth to respond he sucks at your clit with a new ferocity, cutting your reply short as it transforms into a garbled moan of “y-ahh mhm.” Gojo chuckles beneath you at your incoherent response, his breath hot. So fucking smug.

Suguru lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you as he gradually picks up his pace. “You’re just - hah - flattering yourself, ‘Toru.”

Gojo smiles devilishly against you as he replaces his mouth with his thumb, rubbing unfocused circles into your bud. Lowering himself, he licks a languid stripe up the base of Geto’s cock from where he enters you before gently placing the man’s heavy balls into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Suguru’s motions stutter as he moans, his teeth biting into your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself from the buzz of pleasure that suddenly overcomes him at the new sensation.

“Seems like the flattery was warranted,” Gojo hums before his lips return to your clit, sucking softly as tension builds within your chest.

You can’t even tell where you begin and they end, the searing kisses along your neck, the sounds of your shared moans filling the space. Suguru’s hips grow increasingly desperate yet restrained, small thrusts into your cunt as Satoru’s tongue continues flicking over your core. Geto’s body remains stiff beneath you as you roll your hips against him.

“Let y’self go, Suguru,” you slur, your mind too fuzzy to process the words, only sensing the tension he holds.

Geto’s palms hesitantly grow greedier as he grips at your skin, allowing himself to chase his own high. His motions get rougher, thrusts deeper; he’s always felt that carnal part inside of him, the one labeled desire, yet he would never give into it. But something in your words, the heat of your body, breaks him free of his self-imposed cage.

His grip on your hips tightens as he holds you in place, fucking himself up into you. He’s grunting in effort, beads of sweat forming across his forehead as his fingertips dig into your skin. His motions are sloppy and rough, but so fucking good. Finally, he’s feeling it.

“Mm, I - ah - m’close,” you whine, his messy thrusts hitting every spot inside you so perfectly. The two men hum into you in acknowledgement, continuing their fervent motions.

Wet sounds of pleasure echo through the room as you get closer, until finally, the cord inside you snaps. Broken moans of their names leave your throat as you come undone, your walls fluttering around Suguru’s cock enough to send him over the edge with you. Throwing his head back, he allows himself to feel it all, take everything you’re willing to give him - as wave after wave crashes over him, his body shaking, he finally feels free.

“So, so pretty,” Gojo hums as his gaze darts between you and Suguru, watching you two be overtaken in euphoria, together.

Satoru’s tongue never slows as he messily laps at your essence, still kneeling between your legs. Your body feels electric as you come down from the height of your ecstasy, every nerve vibrating in pleasure. The mix of Gojo and Geto’s cum feels warm inside you as it slowly drips from your cunt. With a sly grin, Satoru collects the sticky mixture on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallows. Without a word he rises from his knees, leaning over you.

Is he about to kiss you?

No, he can’t be.

He presses his chest into you as his palms cup Suguru’s jaw, the dark-haired man’s gaze unfocused as he watches his friend’s motions. Gojo’s blue eyes are nearly black from his blown pupils, Geto’s kiss-bruised lips parted as he pants. Silently, Satoru presses his lips to Suguru’s. Their tongues swirl against each other’s, their saliva mixing as the warmth of their bodies covers you, the heat of the kiss threatening to drown you as you’re pulled under, into the current of the moment.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Back.

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

The crack of the tennis ball echoes through the stadium, each hit adding to the culminating tension hanging in the air. Each stroke was like thunder, each step like lightning as Satoru and Suguru rally.

Gojo hits a forehand down the line, forcing Geto into his weak spot - one only he would know after years of playing together, one Suguru would never dare to exploit of his teammate. Geto falters, missing the shot; a soft gasp erupts through the crowd.

“Forty-love,” the announcer booms, “game point for Gojo.”

Satoru takes his place to serve, absentmindedly bouncing the ball against the court as he readies himself.

Loosen up, Suguru.

Tossing it into the air, he hits a perfectly placed shot, the spin forcing Geto off his feet unexpectedly as he chases the path. It wasn’t what he calculated - yet, you could see it in Gojo’s eyes; you could feel it.

Geto hits an off-balance return, struggling to regain his composure as he returns to center court. For a moment, you lock eyes with him.

Let yourself go, Suguru.

Satoru takes the opportunity, running up to pounce on the arcing, slow shot Suguru returned. He leaps into the air, his racquet held high.

But Geto senses something is off.

The slight smirk at the corner of Gojo’s lips, the glimmer behind his eyes.

If Geto were a betting man, he would run himself back to the opposite corner of the court, preparing to take Satoru’s signature high-speed smash that would win him the game. Yet, for a moment, Suguru lets himself feel it - that’s not the shot his opponent is about to take.

Instead, he rushes the net. The moment his feet plant onto the ground, Gojo’s racquet makes contact with the ball, the slicing motion sending it twisting the exact opposite direction Geto would have predicted as it spins through the air. Landing it exactly where Suguru stands.

Geto volleys, not allowing the ball to make contact with the ground as he sends it back to Satoru’s side behind him. Gojo knows he can’t get to the ball fast enough, and he doesn’t even try; instead, he stands in place where he landed from his last play.

A wide grin forms on Satoru’s face, one of admiration, pride. “Didn’t expect you to get that one, Suguru,” he gleams.

Turning around, Geto’s back faces his opponent as he returns to his place, ready for the next serve. “Your emotions gave you away, Satoru,” he purrs through a smirk.

As Gojo prepares himself to serve again, a new electricity crackles between them. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch them play, sweat glistening off their backs as they pour themselves into the game: the back and forth, the give and the take.

This is tennis.

434 notes · View notes

sincerestlove · 3 months

Text

Anxious - R.G.

hello again! hope you enjoy this short one. and thank you for the request!

Request: Helloo can I request one where like Regina keeps asking reader to come to a party but reader doesn’t want to, but like Regina is forcing too much so reader comes to the party and like have a sort of panic attack because of the noises and crowds and Regina comfort reader etc? Thanks!!

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety and mental health struggles - please read at your own discretion. anxious reader, comforting and supportive regina

"Gina, please don't make me go."

The blonde rolled her eyes at you, putting the final touches on her makeup, lips puckered as she stared intently in the mirror.

You had been fidgeting on Regina's bed, feeling anxiety bubble in the pit of your stomach at the thought of attending tonight's party. Karen invited half of the student body to her house tonight to celebrate her birthday, which meant it would be crowded. You hated large crowds.

"Y/N, it'll be fine. I'll literally be with you the entire time, I promise." The blonde capped her lipstick, turning around to walk over to you, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. Her bright eyes softened as she met your gaze, rubbing circles into your shirt soothingly. She could always tell when your anxiety spiked. "Listen, if things get too overwhelming, we can leave, okay? Just take a deep breath."

You nodded, taking hold of her hand and squeezing to bring your heart rate down.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

You were wrong.

It was horrible.

As soon as you pulled up to the house, you could feel the bass booming, speakers blaring, filling every corner of the house. You held onto Regina's hand for dear life as she led you through the house, looking for your friends.

Gretchen and Karen were talking animatedly in the kitchen, sipping on bright red solo cups filled with god knows what alcoholic concoction. Your nose turned up at the smell of sweat and cheap liquor that hit your senses.

The two girls greeted you and Regina, pulling you into a hug. You smiled nervously back at them, an uncomfortable chill running up your spine.

"Here, Y/N!" Karen stuffed a cup into your hand, encouraging you to take a sip. You obliged, cringing at the burn in your throat. Regina smiled at you knowingly, taking the cup from your hand and replacing it with orange juice.

You mouthed a quick thank you, taking a generous gulp. The three girls fell into conversation as you stood close by the blonde, curling into her side. You did your best to drown out the music - but it was so loud you literally couldn't even hear yourself think.

You felt the familiar claws of anxiety digging into your skin, little beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

There were so many people crowding the house, it felt like oxygen was being sucked out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe.

"Gina, I-I'm going to the bathroom." You mumbled and pulled away without waiting for a response, fumbling your way toward the bathroom. Luckily, you had been to Karen's enough time to know where it was. You locked yourself inside, taking a deep, ragged breath in, feeling the burn of your lungs. Every breath you took felt like it wasn't enough.

Your hands began to sweat and your skin flushed, suddenly feeling too hot in your thin blouse. With shaky hands, you shut off the lights, sat on the toilet seat and caged your head between your legs, praying for the noise to stop.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before fists were banging on the door, jiggling the door handle. "Y/N? Are you in there?" Regina's voice flooded the room. "Let me in, please."

You were barely able to get up and unlock the door, falling back on your butt onto the floor. Regina barged in, closing and locking the door again behind her. She decided to keep the lights off, kneeling beside your cowering, shaking frame. "Hey, I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here." She took you into her embrace, holding on to you tightly.

"It's too loud, Gina." You spoke quietly, hands covering your ears. Regina nodded, helping you to stand up.

"Okay, Y/N, it's okay. I'm sorry, baby. Let's go home. Come on, let's go." She whispered to you encouragingly as she led the pair of you out the front door and into her Jeep.

Regina held your hand the whole drive back to her house, ushering you inside quickly and into her bed. She helped you change into a pair of loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, wiping your makeup off before tucking you into her bed.

The rest of the night was filled with apologies and sweet words from Regina, your favorite snacks (that she kept in her bedside drawer just for you), a Netflix movie and soft kisses, until the two of you fell asleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

hope you enjoyed!

as always, please leave requests if you have any! :)

#regina george #regina george x reader

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hitlikehammers · 5 days

Text

Steddie Missed Connection AU

feat. Craigslist-trawling-wingwoman!Robin + earnest-LA-transplant!Steve + rockstar!Eddie ✨ inspired by this actual Craigslist love story

It’s always about a 50/50 shot when Robin starts making her little back-of-the-throat squealing noises. Up to a certain pitch, Steve could pretend he had his AirPods on noise cancellation mode.

Once she reached fire-alarm-screeching levels, it overrode the settings and boom: he lost his fall guy.

Thanks, Apple.

But that’s where they are, and the squealing plus the screen in her hands, plus the way her leg’s bouncing against the table they’re both sitting at—which would have overrrode Steve’s AirPod excuse in about a minute because she’s gonna start splashing his glass of orange juice in a hot second—but all of it lumped together?

He’s lucky he’s retained his athletic reflexes post-high school—maybe only because of being joined-at-the-hip with this particular platonic soulmate, really—because by the time she’s swinging her iPad from its case to plop right down in front of him?

At least he’s quick enough to save his overnight oats from becoming aluminum-flavored when she drops the goddamn thing down without warning—caseless, the heathen—and makes indecipherable noises Steve thinks he’s maybe only heard at the zoo as she taps her nail with an migraine-inducing click on the screen.

Steve…supposes this means he’s obligated to look.

He sighs, fully expecting a dumb meme or a ‘cute TikTok’ because he knows who he fucking lives with; he reaches across the table and unfolds his glasses—really, assaulting him with this before he can even get his contacts in…

And it’s a…webpage. Like: just a webpage. A boring webpage, even. Definitely not matching up with the…squealing and table-sized earthquake of bouncing knees. He squints, tries to make it make sense.

Oh. Wow. He didn’t…

Steve did not actually know Craigslist still existed, let alone that people still used it. He was pretty sure the things for sale were always just kidnapping plots with extra steps, and then also that finding a person you walked past that one time was an FYP problem to solve. But.

Here, in front of him, in black and white and honestly like no other color:

Steve squints; it was posted this morning, but only just. Like 4am. So the last afternoon for there to be a one o’clock hour was—

Yesterday.

His yesterday was uneventful. Went shopping with Robs. Filled up the freezer and overbought shit again so they had a kind of massive and wholly mismatched dinner with the leftovers nearly popping open the fridge door. Can’t take the Midwesterner out of the man or woman, apparently.

Definitely nothing like the day this poor soul on a maybe-less-dead-than-presumed website had had. But Steve won’t pretend his heart doesn’t clench a little when he finishes reading because…it’s cheesy.

But Steve’s always been into that romantic…stuff.

“That’s very sweet,” he lands on commenting before passing the tablet back to Robin, who’s staring at him with frankly terrifying eyes. Like: lost-your-fucking-mind eyes.

“Steven.”

“What?”

“Steven.”

“Robin.”

He won’t even pretend he doesn’t jump with the metal slams on the wood where Robin narrowly misses flipping his bowl of sadly-abandoned oats with her iPad again when she slaps it down in from of him and points frantically yet again.

“Look at the location.”

Steve tilts his head.

Oh. He’d just looked at the time. And it’s not like the location in the title was…unique on its own.

“Huh,” he huffs with a shrug when he sees their part of the city listed in the main link up top. “Coinkydink.”

Robin’s growl starts deep, like a diaphragmatic thrum and Steve would be terrified of her if she were anyone else.

As it is: he’s only mildly unsettled. Specifically because the growl rumbles so…long.

Like at least a minute before she screams bloody fucking murder:

“My hair was in the buns!”

And the way she screeches it, and the maniacal twitch of those eyes…she’s saying more than those words, with those words.

Which means Steve has to put in effort to follow her coded message style of communicating, fucking hell. He hasn’t even eaten his breakfast.

He tries to think it through, at least manages to down his glass of OJ so it can’t be a sacrifice to flying iPads when he thinks he…

“Wait.”

Steve frowns. Robin just blinks.

“You don’t,” he shakes his head, or starts to, it’s a slow motion thing; “you don’t like honestly think,” but even as he’s saying it, the look in her eyes starts to make sense, and answers for him:

“This is not about me.”

Because: seriously.

“We were laughing!” Robin is immediate with her rebuttal, still in her screeching era. “No one else was there!”

“Because we specifically time our shopping for when people are at lunch on a weekday,” Steve counters quick, tries to cut her off at the pass; “a statistically slow window of opportunity for us to debate the list!”

“We write the list to avoid debating,” Robin answers in a more sedate, be reasonable now, dingus tone before she shakes her head and scowls and:

“Stop distracting me!”

Yep, back to the screeching.

“Why were you even on that fucking site?” Steve sighs as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

“Steven,” Robin says again in that fucking tone that always means he’s missing the biggest, far-more-important point but does jack shit to help him find it.

“Robina.”

“Not my name, eww.”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you make up a middle name for me,” Steve sticks his tongue out very maturely to her scrunched up face: “they’re never even nice ones,” he adds, because they’re really not; “and I do know that was your next move so,” he smacks his hands opposite the screen on the table in front of him in victory as he crows:

“Denied.”

“This isn’t basketball,” Robin’s working her tongue around her lips inside her mouth, which is always deadly foreshadowing; “you didn’t block my shot or whatever—“

“Didn’t I?” Steve pushes because, well, one, he did, and two, the original conversation was absurd even for them.

“Maybe it was so empty because his security was there.”

Steve frowns. The tone’s too…even. No. No: too haughty.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I said he looked like a rockstar,” she leans to grab back her tablet and poke near the top, obviously switching browser tabs: “so I did some digging.”

“Robin, what city do we live in?” Steve asks as she works, because yes, Steve remembers seeing a very hot fucking dude staring less in their direction than looking dumbstruck-lost as hell, and he’d considered walking over to ask if he needed help—Midwestern transplant to the bone—which was accompanied by the stray I’d fuck that gorgeous toothpick silly, but in the paper product aisle, like on the 48-count pack of Charmin, he looks soft under all that leather—then both thoughts were swiftly abandoned when the toothpick’s eyes met Steve’s and Steve maybe had to force himself to finish laughing at a joke he can’t remember now, that Robin told, because his skin felt like it was burning a little except the sun had poked behind a cloud, and his throat, it had like, it had just, it—

It just felt…weird.

He does remember that.

“But we don’t see rockstars every day,” which is fair, their neighborhood in particular is less music biz than others.

“Plus, look at this!”

Then she’s shoving the iPad back in front of Steve: it’s a TMZ shot or some other pap photo that’s more than half blur. It is indeed the parking lot at their Costco. And it does…feature a toothpick-esque figure looking similar to the one Steve remembers, but it’s more from the back than the side. And like, anyone can wear that much black in the summer. It’s a free country.

“And look at him!”

She split-screens to a Wikipedia article about a band even Steve’s heard of, if not for listening to them himself. It…he glances at the paparazzi shot.

Lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin Sighted Getting Groceries Just Like Normal People in Mar—

And then he looks back to the wiki: okay. Same band name. The guy with the guitar in the photo looks…

He has the same hair.

“Don’t tell me it’s just coincidence.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“It is just coincidence.”

“Steve.”

Steve feels his face sour.

“I know that tone,” because he does. It never leads to things he enjoys.

“You’ve thought about him.”

“He was gorgeous,” Steve thinks he surprises her with his honesty but like, what does he have to gain by lying? Plus:

“LA’s is like the plastic surgery capital of the fucking world, it’d be kinda sad if a lot of people generally weren’t pretty.”

“He wasn’t that kind of pretty.”

And fuck if they don’t share a brain cell; fuck if she doesn’t see right through him.

“And that’s not why you’ve been thinking about him.”

And fuck if she doesn’t know Steve, far too well.

“I never once said I’d been thinking about,” he hears the words and knows they’re weak, goddamnit.

“You never had to,” Robin smiles a little and taps an annoying finger at the screen again, that’a somehow flipped right back to the Craigslist ad thingy.

And she’s actually not entirely right, because he hadn’t thought much about the gorgeous toothpick man with curls Steve wanted to be smothered by, suffocate in like a pillow. But when he did?

He’d thought most about how he looked soft, on the inside. Thought wild and idiotic things like maybe his soft could match Steve’s soft when no one else’s ever had and he was always left bruised for it, more than once near-unhealable, and maybe they could, like, if their softnesses matched, then like—

Something.

But Steve always comes on too strong, wants too much, hopes to hard and way too fast, though this shit might take the cake, there: so it was idiotic and he’d left that train of thought to derail on its own and—

Did that come on too strong?

His gaze snags on the words, those exact words up on the screen and he’s very tempted to start growling deep in the pit of his stomach, take a cue from Robin’s absurdity.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Steve asks, looking pointedly at the clock on the microwave: he knows she does. Pottery making. For self-edification.

She scowls but looks—swears colorfully because it’s later than she thought as she jumps up and goes to presumably…do whatever she does in the bathroom to get ready to leave and look her lesbian-luring best before she gets smattered in wet clay.

Steve remains unclear on whether that look’s more or less attractive to the specific ladies she’s trying to bait.

Either way: it prompts Robin to drop her one-woman campaign insisting Steve’s soulmate of the romantic flavor is calling our desperately into the void of the internet. But it also, however, has the…side-effect of making the time itself an obvious thing. 11:09.

Rob’s gonna take the car, she’s got…supplies and stuff.

Why that’s important is…lost on him.

He could debase himself and brave the bus, if he got off at Washington and—

What the fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

Steve very forcefully shoves Robin’s iPad back across the table and doesn’t think about anything, especially not the numbers, like the number 214, like two hours and fourteen minutes until—

Steve nearly chokes himself on his fucking spoon with how violently he shoves it, full of oats, between his lips. As if he can shut his brain up as easy as he can his mouth.

It…actually kinda works. He might have chipped a tooth.

——————

In the end, Steve is proud of himself for being reasonable and having standards. He doesn’t take a fucking bus to meet a stranger in a Costco parking lot, Jesus Christ. Come on.

He books an Uber.

(And yes, he and Robin agreed no solo Ubers for a month to save up to have the air conditioner looked at before it copped out on them because their landlord only gave a shit if it was dead-dead and yes, maybe she’d gone so far as to put their account on a hold you had to call and remove to avoid temptation—though of the two of them, she definitely had the bigger problem—but little did she think on the fact that while you had to link a phone number, you could just use Google Voice and make a new account and no, Steve’s not insane, or a hopeless romantic, or almost-asking-for-heartbreak-on-the-regular, thank you very much.

He is resourceful. And it’s only like $15 with tip. It’s a quick ride.)

He asks to be dropped near the back of the lot, and takes the walk up slow. Almost goes the long way, straight into the store. Almost turns back entirely.

But then he sees those curls.

And his throat does the…the weird tight thing for no fucking reason, and his feet don’t ask permission to walk in the direction of the man standing…less dumbstruck, now. Even from the back it’s clear.

Now: he’s waiting.

Steve can barely breathe, can’t fucking swallow for the state of his throat, but his feet still aren’t waiting for permission, so it’s only fucking seconds before he’s close enough to catch a whiff of cologne and then—

“Sorry,” Steve ducks around the man from behind and reaches out automatically to steady him when he startles. “Hey, sorry, you just looked like maybe you were looking for something?” Steve smiles as open, as reassuring as he knows. “Just wanted to check if you needed any help.”

Keep it casual, Steve, keep it fucking friendly and extra polite and—

“Oh my god.”

The guy barely breathes it out, his eyes so wide, and Steve doesn’t know why he hasn’t moved his hand from the guy’s arm but Steve can feel the electric current that runs through him, like the finest grade of trembling. And electricity, right, it travels. Conducts.

In case you felt your heart skip just one beat, didn’t even have to full-on stop—

And even that proximity to this man is nothing compared to hearing his voice, low and a little syrupy even as he stares in shock, in disbelief—and oh. Oh, but what was it the guy had written in his post? About feeling the earth move a little, or like, rewiring your cells just for meeting eyes?

Steve, he’s…

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay.

“You’re here.”

Steve blinks, rocked back to the moment to deal with the new tilt of the globe and the spontaneous realignment of his insides later. This guy’s looking at Steve like he’s unbelievable, like he’s miraculous, like he’s…

Sunshine.

“I’m here?” Steve asks, a little breathy, a little curious.

“I,” the guy swallows, lips shiny as he bites at them, fucking adorable; “I saw you, umm, yesterday and I maybe, well, possibly I wrote some,” he fumbles and sounds like he’s building up to eventual hysterics, so Steve acts wholly on instinct and reaches further now to catch at both his hands.

“Relax,” Steve breathes out with a smile, and doesn’t overthink smoothing his thumbs over the guy’s knuckles, just in case it soothes him.

“My friend,” Steve lets go with one hand and grabs his phone to show the page he’d loaded on the ride here; “she was convinced it was you, about me. I wasn’t, so,” he shakes his head quick when something falls in the guy’s face, something dims: oh, umm, no.

He cannot have that.

“Not trying to catch you out or something,” Steve exhales it warm, as reassuring as he can, with his whole chest as he grabs the guy’s hands in both his own again—since he seemed to not mind; “just,” and Steve shrugs even as he smiles a little, less self-deprecating with it than he’d probably have landed on if the guy hadn’t reacted to Steve’s hands on his by clinging back so tight:

“Just a little hard to believe, is all.”

The man barely lets the words settle before his jaw drops almost comically and he demands, high-pitched and somehow still rumbling, something commanding in it nonetheless:

“How?”

Like it’s unimaginable. Like Steve reading that post and walking into this lot and striding up to a perfect stranger—who may or may not be very famous but that’s actually not even a little bit of the point—but a stranger who would want to see him—

But then Steve’s meeting the guy’s eyes again; hadn’t wholly realized he’d been staring at their hands more than anything. Those eyes are like the night sky, swirling and endless and sparking in the right slant of light, and Steve feels them like a welcome, like a cushion of the stars, like a safe landing in a chaotic universe.

He doesn’t even know this man.

But he thinks…yesterday. Yesterday, his heart didn’t stop, not like this guy had written, but Steve understands now what it did do instead, the thing he did remember, the tightness in his throat: his heart didn’t stop.

It just surged upward and took up residence to pound at his trachea where it tripped instead. Which is kinda where he’s back to right now.

“Could I,” the guy’s voice is rough, shaky, and so is he, Steve feels it where he’s still got his hand gripped firm; “would it be too much to ask if I could hug you?”

And he huffs a breath, and it sounds too….too small, like he’s afraid or ashamed and it pings something hateful, but so much more protective in Steve’s blood just to hear it as he confesses on a end of an exhale:

“I just want to know if you’re real.”

And Steve didn’t grow up a hugger, but he sure as shit’s grown into one; he’d be one of those people standing in the city with a ‘Free Hugs’ sign without much convincing. But this guy.

This man in front of him who may or may not be famous, is definitely a stranger either way save that he poured out some lines on the internet that maybe exceeded the term ‘heartfelt’ by a mile, who may or may not be standing in here, inside this moment, for something like fate because…Steve did feel it.

Maybe he didn’t think twice about the immensity it could have, not in the moment, because he’d been shopping, and Robin’s story was funny and maybe he was just struck by his luck in living a life with his platonic soulmate and knowing joy; surely your heart can trip for that and just because it never had before, just because it did this one first time when he crossed eyes with a genuinely beautiful man who left Steve with half-a-second’s certainty that looking any longer would flay wide this unknown person’s soul for Steve to sift through: but Steve felt things like that easy, always had. Romanticized nothings like it was a profession.

But it never hit like this had, has—is—before, if indeed this is actually anything—

And Steve’s heart is still tripping but it’s back in his chest, and he knows it because where he’s pressed against this guy’s kinda-gasping chest, now, close and tight? Maybe Steve’s never paid attention before, or maybe Steve’s just never…touched like this before, even if all they’re doing is hugging in a fucking parking lot.

But.

He’s pressed there and his heart’s tripping in his chest and he knows it wholly and fully because he can feel this man’s heartbeat next to his own—and where it should be a battle, because it’s pounding, both of them are, one side literally against the other?

It feels like a caress. It feels like, like…

Steve closes his eyes tight because they start to sting with the single word it feels like: impossible, absurd, but…

Here he is. He’s never felt someone’s heartbeat pressed up against his own before. Definitely never felt—never dreamt—that it could feel like it fits.

He leans back when he thinks he’s got a hold on the hopelessness of his tender-hearted absurdity, but the guy is staring at him already when he does and suddenly Steve’s got a handle on absolutely nothing except his pulse jackrabbiting some more but then also feeling…like it lost something. Like it’s not complete.

And the man, he’s staring with those eyes so wide again but now it’s like he’s…it’s kinda like he knows. He knows his eyes are going to let Steve flay him wide open.

It’s like he’s begging Steve to…look. To look and less to take, and more to…have.

Maybe, maybe to keep?

And…how?

“Do you feel it?” the guy whispers, those deep dark eyes so big: just these vulnerable, bleeding hearts on main. “Even just—“ he tries to walk back, to open it all up wider, desperate and hopeful and Steve hears all of it because it’s all written in the same key as all that Steve knows, all that Steve is. Somehow.

Somehow.

So Steve blinks, too many times before he grabs the man harder and drags him in again to hold, hold, hold until the heartbeat on either side of Steve’s ribs is reaching for the other, touching. Until they’re holding on, too, and once they do, then he can whisper, warm and maybe wet in the crook of this man’s neck, this stranger who’s holding onto his heart now, unfathomable, as he speaks words he doesn’t have to think about first to know they’re going to shift the world again, this time so they both can know it in the souls of them together, all at once:

“I feel it.”

For @hbyrde36, who requested 'Missed Connection AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth

divider credits here and here

💫 ao3 link here

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ferrstappen · 1 year

Text

happy mother's day, sorry for the mess l Max Verstappen blurb

a/n: Charles' version will be posted shortly <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader

you can read more of dad Max and the twins here <3

summary: Mila and Luca Verstappen go rogue during Mother's Day, ignoring Max's plan.

Max sighed after putting Mila and Luca to sleep, both too excited to celebrate their mum in just a few hours, after spending weeks planning and buying gifts for you.

The living room was neatly decorated with yellow and purple balloons, the twins' favorite colors. Max had multiple red and white roses delivered. Of course that wasn't enough, the three of them had gone shopping for gifts, Max not caring about it being too much and the twins not having to think whether it was or wasn't expensive; whatever reminded them of you, it was bought.

Max knew you didn't really care about the Dior handbag, a long parka from Moncler, maybe you'd like the Cartier bracelet, but only because it was engraved with Mila, Luca and Max's name and date, but they could've had a cheap fake gold bracelet from Aliexpress and you would've loved it just the same because it had their names on it.

You'd also love the assortment of chocolates that would' probably be gone by today's afternoon. It was a situation Max knew too well ever since you started dating. Max was taught by his mother and sister that classics were classics for a reason, never failing to gift you a large box of chocolates on Valentine's Day.

He remembers vividly your first Valentine's, enjoying quiet time on his apartment not really bothering to go outside, wanting to kiss and touch as much as you wanted in the early stages of the relationship, not having to care about people taking pictures, fans approaching Max for a conversation or autograph, the only thing both of you needed was being next to each other. His memory is clear when picturing you wearing one of his shirts after he left the bathroom, the box of chocolates lying next to you and he opened it, suddenly craving a dulce de leche filled chocolate.

It was empty.

Max was surprised that you were able to eat the entire box during the day, but then he learned it was a common occurrence, but he still pretended to get surprised whenever the box didn't survive past midnight.

Maybe he was dreaming, the early stages of your relationship always brought a smile to his face and was the stuff of his dreams all these years later, but he was aware of his surroundings now. This wasn't his old apartment that he after shared with you, this was the penthouse you got after getting married.

And whatever was coming from the kitchen, wasn't your doing since your warm body was perfectly curved against Max; your back pressed against his back, bottom moving against him as you tried to get comfortable after he moved, Max's hand resting dangerously low on your stomach and legs intertwined.

This was one of the few times he rolled his eyes at Mila and Luca, already knowing they were up to something, absolutely not in their room. He was hoping he would get the chance to celebrate and cherish you before the kids had the chance to interrumpt.

Oh well.

Rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet Max followed the shushed voices, English and Dutch mixing as Mila reprimanded her twin for bringing jam instead of Nutella, but Luca responded 'mama prefers jam in the morning, Mila'.

Max crossed his arms, this not being the first time the twins decided to get started with breakfast. They didn't care that Max tirelessly reminded them that he would wake them up and prepare breakfast for you.

"What happened with the plan?" Max asked and noticed how the twins stopped their movements, carefully and slowly turning around to face their dad. "M, any reason why there's a puddle of orange juice right next to you? Lu, do you know why all those tea leaves are scattered on the sink?"

To make matters worse, a panicked Luca dropped the glass he was carrying, the sound booming around the penthouse.

Max asked his son if he was okay at the same time Mila told her brother he was an idiot.

they all failed to hear the hurried steps coming towards the kitchen. Your eyes were met with your barefoot husband tiptoeing around the glass as he told the kids to not come near.

"What happened?" You asked and this time, it wasn't just the twins who ceased their movements and slowly turned their backs to you. this time they were joined by Max.

Silence filled the room as you were still waiting for an answer for the small mess on the kitchen.

The three Verstappen clones looked at each other, mentally planning on what to say next.

"Happy mother's day!"

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fluff #dad!max verstappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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copperpipes · 7 months

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Boom! Orange juice, that's life

Silly Mikey doodles + raph, they're so cool

I added a few points to his design, like gym gloves, in climbing and gymnastics you usually have chalk, but gloves are a bit more efficient since they don't fade.

And a shoulder pad, when I roll sometimes I fly so hard I hit my shoulder on the ground, so he gets protection.

And hey! He actually doesn't look murderous!

Question: should I add him to the bundle with his bros?

Close ups ⬇️

:]]]]]

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Work The Case

Request from @doctorsteeb: This may be too sensitive a topic but just an idea— Hotch!daughter taking out a school shooter?

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: A normal Tuesday takes a turn when you come face to face with your father's work.

A/N: Not going to lie I wasn't going to write this because I felt like the idea was too sensitive but then I remembered that I'm the queen of writing too sensitive things in real life so I may as well do that here too (within limits of course. I still have ethics). So here it is!

CW: school shooting, fatal gun shot, talks of foyet, talks of dead mothers, talks of car crashes, talks of drunk driving, talks of divorce, Jackson Pollok slander

---

The morning started out like any other Tuesday: you got up and ready for the day before having breakfast with your dad and brother- oatmeal and orange juice- then your dad drove you and Jack to school. Jack always got dropped off first at the elementary school, and you at the high school. The ride between the two was short, but it was always long enough for a small, private conversation between you and your father.

“You okay?” he asked you.

Ugh. Profilers.

“I’m…” You thought about saying ‘fine,’ but you knew he wouldn’t take that as an answer. You sighed. “The teacher let the class vote on what chapter we would cover in class next, so we started on abnormal criminal psychology yesterday.”

“Oh.” You’d never heard your dad sound so uncertain.

“It’s an extra chapter. Since it’s not listed in the curriculum we aren’t being tested on the material. The teacher told me I could spend that period in the library if it was… too much,” you finished.

You dad pulled in front of the school, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead goodbye. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you told him.

“Try to have a good day,” he said before you shut the car door.

You nodded. “I’ll try.”

---

You took your teacher’s offer and went to the library instead of their classroom. The space was large, but mostly empty of people- there was just the librarian behind her desk and a few students scattered amongst the tables. You took a seat and pulled out your homework, trying not to think about what they were learning back in the classroom. You’d honestly overheard enough phone calls that whatever they were learning about you already knew. There was a buzz in your pocket, which automatically made you freeze. You kept your phone on do not disturb through the school day. The only reason your phone would buzz would be if your dad was texting you… and if your dad was texting you it was an emergency.

You pulled your phone out and you were right- it was a text from your dad. Three words: Work the case.

Shit. That was code for you and Jack to hide- to hide somewhere that you wouldn’t be found unless you wanted to be. You looked around the library, but the area was like an open plain. You shoved your work in your backpack and hurried towards the doors-

BOOM!

A gunshot.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

People began to scream. Through the glass windows of the library you could see students running, but it wasn’t because they were late to class. The lockdown alarm sounded and you scrambled under one of the tables, hoping it would be enough cover.

There was a stillness and a silence for a minute and you hoped that it was over, but gunshots rang out again- this time they were louder than they had been before. Someone was getting closer.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, making it feel as though your entire body was thumping to its too-fast rhythm. You wanted to cry, but you didn’t shed any tears. You wondered if this was what it had been like for Jack when Foyet had killed your mother and then tried to kill your father. As part of WISTEC, you had been sent away to a private boarding school with an alias while Jack and your mom were sent elsewhere. In the end, sending you away had saved your life, but now you were wondering if you were going to die soon anyway.

That was, until the library doors burst open. From your view under the table you could only see old shoes and baggy jeans but you heard the shots that were fired into the air.

“Get up! All of you!” It was a male voice.

You, along with the six other students in the library that had all dropped to the floor, looked around at one another- who would make the decision to stand up or stay down? Who would make that call?

More shots were fired. “I said get up!”

You thought about your dad- what would he do? And so you were the one to make the call, the first student to crawl out slowly from under the table and rise, your hands held up to show that you were no threat. The rest of the students followed your lead. This was your team now- if one of them died, it was on you.

You looked at the shooter and you knew who he was- Timmy Rogers. He’d been in some of your classes in middle school and high school. He had always been quiet- the kind of kid who did well in class but never answered any questions. The person who put their share into a group project and didn’t complain about having to pick up the slack if someone else bailed. He was nice enough of a person that you wouldn’t have expected him to be holding a firearm in the middle of your school, but then again most unsubs could keep themselves hidden for years- that much you knew.

“Line up against the wall. Now!” he shouted.

You walked calmly to the wall while some of the other students scampered. One girl was crying. Another boy’s fists were twisted with fear. The librarian was on her knees, pleading with Timmy. “You’re a good boy. You always have been. Your mother-”

“Don’t talk about my mother! Don’t talk about me! You don’t know me!”

“Yes I do,” the librarian was crying. “I do know you and your mom wouldn’t have wanted-”

Timmy pulled the trigger and she was gone. He marched over and grabbed the girl who was crying, dragging her out in front for the rest of you to see. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” She fell to her knees. “Please, I’m sorry-”

You thought quickly about everything you knew about Timmy. He wasn’t an athlete by any means but he joined the wrestling team anyway, he liked art and his project last year was based on his parent’s divorce, his father was a marine, and his mom…

Oh. His mom had died in a car crash last week. She was hit by a drunk driver.

“You never cared about me!” he yelled. “Nobody cares about me. Nobody cared about her-”

“I did.” You didn’t know where the words came from- they were solid and bold and half a lie, but they made Timmy let go of the girl.

“And who are you?” He pointed the gun in your direction. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t.

“I’m (Y/N) Hotchner. W-we had art class together last year.” You hoped your stumble wasn’t too obvious.

“Yeah, and why does that matter? Why should I let you live? Why should I let any of you live?” He waved the gun around in the air, making some of the students shriek, but somehow you stayed calm even though you wanted to explode.

“Y-your mom died in a car crash last week. But it wasn’t her fault. It was the other person who was driving drunk and it wasn’t fair that they got to live and she had to die,” you said.

“Why do you care?” He spat.

You reached deep down… really deep. “My mom died too. She was murdered by a serial killer. She deserved so much better, just like your mom did.”

Timmy paused, the gun in his hand was shaking but still pointed at you. From your view, you could see that through the glass there were officers moving into the school. No. Not just officers- they were wearing FBI vests. Help was almost there, you just had to stall.

“My parents got divorced too,” you said. “Your final project last year really spoke to me- your dad was away all the time and your mom got tired of it, even though they still loved each other.” That was a total lie- the guy was about as talented as Pollok, but you had to find something. “My parents were the same way.”

Now Timmy was crying. You could see behind him that agents were moving towards the library, but you were too focused on stalling Timmy that you weren’t focused on their faces.

“And I was at a boarding school when she died so I was alone- all alone, just like you, Timmy. My mom died and nobody was there to comfort me. My dad wasn’t with me, just like your dad isn’t here right now.”

He was so distracted by your words that he didn’t even notice that the library doors had opened behind him allowing Agent Morgan, Dr. Reid, and your dad to come in unnoticed.

“He- he didn’t even come for her funeral-” Timmy’s hand was getting weaker. He was crying harder. “I-I can’t reach him-”

“I know. I couldn’t reach my dad either since I was still in WISTEC. They couldn’t tell me anything about him until I got home. It’s not fair. I know it’s not fair. I care that it’s not fair.”

Timmy dropped the gun, crumbling to the ground in a fit of tears. Agent Morgan tackled him, pulling his hands behind his back while Dr. Reid disabled the firearm. Your dad ran straight to you, gripping you in a bone crushing hug and you sobbed into his chest.

He pulled you in tighter, stroking a hand down your hair. “It’s over, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s over.”

“I worked the case, dad,” you managed to get out between your sobs. “I worked the case.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #hotch x daughter!reader #hotch x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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personasdestinyy · 2 months

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Next time | Kim Namjoon drabble

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; It was quite unexpected when a heavenly stranger joined you at the club's roof, just when you were feeling all alone.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut(li8), dark(a little bit), fluff, strangers to??

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: namjoon x reader y/n

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: making out, heavy(sexual) tension in the air, nipple sucking, dry humping, calling reader princesse

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k+

a/n: Namjoon wearing glasses is my weakness ;-) and I'm not very knowledgeable about clubs. Well, Please forgive any errors if I may have made, but if you happen to spot any, kindly point them out to me.

The vibrant lights, booming music, and the overpowering scent of sweat from the crowd - it's all a nightmare for you. You're not one for clubs, but your best friend insisted. And by insisted, you mean she practically started a quarrel and argued with you until you gave in. She even went as far as choosing a black tight thigh-length V-neck dress for you, accentuating your cleavage. The makeup she applied was equally extravagant - a smokey eye look with a shimmery red lipstick. She may be a baby, but you nearly broke down in tears when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection in the full-length mirror. You've never worn that much makeup in your entire life, but her stubbornness won this time.

You've been sitting at the bar, your face buried in your hands, elbows resting on the glass counter, for about 15 minutes now. When you both entered the club, she tried to convince you to dance, but you had already done enough for the day and didn't want to be surrounded by sweaty bodies. So you told her to enjoy herself and even asked her to leave you alone. Little did you know, that wasn't such a great idea.

As you sit there, lost in your thoughts, the bartender suddenly comes into your line of vision. Your tired eyes gaze up at him, as he takes in your appearance - his eyes naturally drifting from your hidden cleavage to your face. Oddly enough, he doesn't appear interested at all. You sit up straighter, removing your face from your palms. Just as he turns away to walk off, not bothering to ask if you'd like to order something.

"Hey! Can I get a glass of orange juice?" you call out to him before he can take another step. He comes to a halt, turning around to face you once more. His expression remains as uninteresting as ever. You study him for a moment, your eyes landing on the name badge pinned to his white bartender suit, which reads 'Yoongi'. He simply nods and walks away.

'Strange'

After about five minutes, he returned with your drink and a bill, placing them in front of you on the counter. You thanked him, but he didn't reply. He was really starting to get on your nerves, but you still managed to smile as you took out the cash from your purse and handed it to him. He casually grabbed the bill from the counter and walked away, leaving you alone.

Sitting here has become quite challenging after that peculiar encounter with him. You had desperately craved some fresh air, so you tightly held onto your glass, rose from the stool, and made your way up to the roof.

The breeze up here is refreshing, causing a slight shiver to run down your spine. It's a welcome change from the lingering scent of sweaty bodies that had been assaulting your nostrils while you were perched on that fancy stool. Leaning on the railing, your elbows find support as you tightly grip your glass. You bite your lower lip, moistening it with your tongue before bringing the glass to your lips. In one swift motion, you gulp down the orange juice and carefully place the glass on the floor, ensuring it's far enough from anyone's step to avoid any accidents.

With your chin resting on your bent elbows, you find yourself captivated by the view of the streets below. The towering buildings resemble giant pencils, and the wind playfully tousles your wavy hair as it dances around you.

Suddenly, the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts your reverie. You turn your head to the left and there stands a breathtakingly beautiful being, almost ethereal in nature. Your mind momentarily stops functioning, and your heart seems to follow suit. While your head remains nestled in your arms on the railing, your focus shifts from the cityscape to this angelic presence before you.

He gazes back at you, his eyes shining through the transparent frames of his glasses, captivating you with their beauty. His petite nose adds to his overall charm, and his perfectly styled blonde hair, revealing his forehead completely, leaves you in awe. Dressed impeccably in a plain black pant, white button-up shirt, and waistcoat, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he exudes an air of effortless style. And those lips, naturally pink and enticing, prompt you to moisten your own with your tongue. You find yourself not just staring, but thoroughly checking out this stranger. A small gulp escapes your throat as you straighten your posture, lifting your chin from your arms and smoothing your hands over your dress. The fabric clings to your body curves, accentuating your cleavage and bare legs, but you try to ignore it as best as you can.

"Why are you up here?" his voice breaks the silence, sending shivers down your spine. It's deep, rough, and undeniably captivating. Glancing up towards him, you're met with a sight that leaves you breathless. His muscular physique is accentuated by the fabric that wraps around him perfectly, and every defined muscle is visible beneath the surface.

In an attempt to steady your voice, you clear your throat, not wanting it to waver in front of him.

"Not a party person," you reply, shrugging your shoulders slightly. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he shifts his gaze away from your face, focusing on the front. However, your attention is momentarily diverted by the beautiful dimple that forms on his cheeks when he smiles. You quickly avert your gaze as well and focus on your ahead.

"I'm not much of a party person either," he says, still looking straight ahead. Curiosity sparks inside your mind, and you can't help but wonder why he's here.

"Then why are you here?" The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air as you realize you haven't received an answer. Embarrassment floods your stomach, and your face flushes with heat. You quickly clear your throat, ready to apologize for the intrusive question. When you look at him, you're taken aback to find him already staring at you. Your lips part slightly, and a breath escapes, unable to contain your surprise. His gaze lingers on your red-painted lips before meeting your eyes once again.

"I had a meeting with the club's owner," he replies, his gaze still locked with yours. As his words reach your ears, it feels like a wave of relief washes over you, momentarily dissipating your embarrassment. You break the eye contact first, not daring to delve deeper into his captivating gaze. You know that his looks, his voice, everything about him is melting you from the inside out.

Yet, you can still feel his eyes on you, studying your every move and posture.

"Want to know the same thing" he inquired, you bite your lower lip between you teeth. His curiosity about why you're here piques your interest, making your heart do a little flip in your chest. Your eyes meet his once more, you averted your gaze for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, before meeting his intense gaze once again.

"Well," you began, your voice slightly shaky, "Lila, my best friend, practically dragged me here. She insisted that I needed a change of scenery, a break from my monotonous routine. And, well, I couldn't say no to her."

A small smile played on your lips as you reminisced about all the crazy adventures you and Lila had shared. The late-night phone calls, the impromptu road trips, and yes, even the times when you had to rescue her from her drunken escapades. You had always been there for her, like a protective elder sister.

As you spoke, you noticed a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and a mischievous dimple appeared on his cheek. It was a sight that made your heart flutter uncontrollably again. Your smile transformed into something more than just friendly, something that revealed your growing attraction towards this handsome stranger standing before you.

His gaze changed, turning darker as he observed the sudden shift in your expression. He took a step closer, until you were almost chest to chest. The sudden proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but gulp nervously, feeling the tension thickening in the air. The chilly wind only seemed to enhance the heat radiating from your body.

His intense eyes bore into yours, as if he could devour you whole with just one bite. You feel a gentle touch on your face, his long fingers delicately brushing with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your left eye. He twists it between his fingers before tucking it behind your ear. The simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your body instinctively reacts, leaning into his touch. Your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the sensation. His hand on your jaw caused you to lean in even closer, but the subtle touch of his thumb on your lower lip, causing your eyes to flutter open. You meet his gaze from beneath your long lashes, feeling a magnetic pull between you. In that moment, all other thoughts fade away, leaving only one desire lingering in your mind - to kiss him.

His thumb continues to brush against your bottom lip, its feather-light touch sending tingles through your body. He leans in closer, his warm breath caressing your ear, causing you to shiver even more. Your thighs clench involuntarily, a physical response to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"You're so beautiful. What's your name?" In a low, husky voice, he breaks the silence, his words dripping with admiration, his voice is like a sweet melody mixed with a hint of spice, intoxicating and irresistible. As he pulls away slightly, you already feel the absence of his warm breath on your ear. His hand remains on your jaw, and you nervously nibble on your bottom lip, unsure how to handle this enchanting stranger.

His gaze fixates on your lips, and he gently removes your bottom lip from between your teeth with his thumb. He resumes rubbing it with his thumb pad, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You know you have to answer, or else your legs might give out beneath you.

"Y/N," you whisper your name, your voice barely audible. You can feel yourself losing control, your senses overwhelmed by his presence. You're certain that your panties are clinging to your core, a testament to the desire he has ignited within you. He hums, his eyes locked onto yours, then your lips, and back to your eyes again.

"Namjoon" He introduced himself, even though you didn't inquire. You repeat his name in a hushed tone, and it flows from your mouth as if it was meant to be. It sounds perfect.

His eyes were also fixed on you from the moment he saw you standing alone, observing every little movement of your body, the way your features seemed to effortlessly fit into his hand, and how smoothly his name rolled off your tongue.

Your heart began to race, the desire to kiss him overwhelming you as soon as he entered your line of sight. You tried to control yourself, but now when he shared his name with you, all you wanted to do was utter it over and over again.

But then, just as quickly as he came close, he pulled away, taking a step back. Your eyes widened in disbelief, confused by his actions after making you feel so hot with his touch. His expression remains dark, but there's a hint of something different in his eyes now. It's as if he's about to do something he'll regret, or perhaps something you can't even fathom. Your heart feels heavy all of a sudden, and he gives you an inscrutable look, your brows pinched together. Then, he turned to his left and headed towards the rooftop exit.

'No, no.'

He's about to leave you, and you know you have to act.

Remembering Lila's advice about seizing the moment when something felt right, your mind urged you to stop him, and you made up your mind to do just that. Stepping towards him, you caught his muscular wrist in your small hand before he could take another step. He halts in his tracks, tilting his head to look back at you. Without hesitation, you stand on your tiptoes, even though you were wearing heels, you still stand much shorter than him. You press your lips against his without hesitation, eyes closed. His lips feel like soft cotton, so plump and different from what you had imagined.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a sense of unease when you realized his lips weren't responding. Guilt flooded your heart as you reluctantly opened your eyes to meet his gaze, which seemed to have been fixed on you the entire time. Nervously, you released his wrist from your grasp and took a cautious step back. Your eyes start to sting, but you hold back the tears, directing your gaze downward to your heels. Massaging your temple, you clear your throat, preparing yourself to apologize for crossing a line.

The weight of your mistake settled heavily on your shoulders, filling you with a sense of regret that seemed to stretch into eternity.

However, before you can utter a single word of apology, he closes the distance between you in a single stride. Without hesitation, without warning, he cups your face with his large hands and in an instant, his lips crash against yours in an intense and passionate kiss. Your feet stumbled backward until your back met the railing, and you instinctively clutched onto his shoulder for support. The pounding of your heart resonates so loudly within your chest that you can hardly hear anything else. He begins to suck and nibble on your bottom lip, causing a low moan to escape from deep within your throat.

He breaks the kiss with a soft pop, the sound lingering in the air as your breaths synchronize. Both of you are panting heavily, the intensity of the moment leaving you both gasping for air. He takes off his glasses, revealing his perfect face, and tucks them away in his pants pocket. Without breaking eye contact, he leans in for another kiss, his desire evident in his eyes.

Once again, his lips capture yours, but this time the kiss is different. It's sloppy, hungry, filled with a raw passion that consumes you both. You try to match his movements, but his lips are dominant, taking control of the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch with a fervor that leaves you weak in the knees.

"Stick your tongue out, y/n," he orders, his voice husky and filled with desire. His hands roam from your neck to your waist, then down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You obey without hesitation, your body responding to his command like a well-trained child. He wastes no time and starts sucking on your tongue, teasing and biting it gently.

Your eyes shut tightly as pleasure courses through your body, making you wet with anticipation. Your hands wander from his shoulders to his perfectly styled blonde locks, gripping it tightly as the sensations overwhelm you. Your knees begin to wobble, making it difficult to stand, but you can't bring yourself to break the kiss just yet.

After felt like eternity, desperate for air, you try to withdraw your tongue, a silent plea for him to stop. He senses your need and releases you, both of you gasping for breath. As you open your eyes, you're met with the sight of his face so close to yours, causing your heart to race even faster. His lips are swollen, his eyes hooded, his jaw clenching and unclenching with desire. He looks ethereal, a perfect blend of beauty and handsomeness that leaves you craving for more.

Your body aches for him, your wet core yearning for his touch. Unable to resist, you grind against his clothed, hard erection, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through you. A gasp escapes your lips as you realize just how big he is, and his own groan echoes in the air as your hips move against him once again. The desire between you both is palpable, and you know that you want more.

"Please, I.." you try to convey your request to him, to convey your desires to him.

He suddenly takes action by firmly grabbing your buttocks, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. The sensation makes you momentarily forget what you were about to say, and in the blink of an eye, he effortlessly lifts you up by your hips. Your legs instinctively wrap around his well-defined torso, while your arms find their way around his neck.

You can feel his sweaty hair brushing against your arms.

"You're going to lose yourself entirely, princesse," he murmurs in that seductive accent of his, using the endearing nickname he uses for you. Just as you plan to respond, he silences you by placing his mouth on your neck. First, he nibbles, then sucks, and licks at the same spot, causing you to whimper. Your back arches automatically, and your head falls back, granting him even greater access to your neck. Suddenly, your eyes snap open when you feel an absence behind your head. You realize you're leaning over the railing, with only the lower half of your body supported by him. Your survival now depends on clinging tightly to him, preventing you from falling off the rooftop.

"Mhm, listen..." you try to get his attention by tapping his shoulder, signaling that you are in a precarious situation. But he doesn't stop; instead, you can sense his smirk against your neck as he continues to shower you with affectionate kisses. Your mind is in a whirlwind, torn between the arousal coursing through your body and the danger of your current position.

'Fuck, this is what he meant,'

He began thrusting his cock through the thick fabric of his pants, instantly blocking out all other thoughts. The rush of adrenaline from being on the edge of the roof and the powerful movements of his hips consumed your mind completely.

"Namjoon, oh fuck Joon.." you couldn't help but moan his name over and over again as he intensified his grinding, simultaneously sucking harder on your neck. Your stomach twisted with desire, and you instinctively clutched onto his blonde hair. His wet kisses trailed downwards, and then his sinful lips makes contact with your nipple, which was concealed beneath the fabric of your dress and his wet tongue playfully swirled around the sensitive bud. The pleasure was so intense that it forced a high-pitched moan to escape from deep within your throat.

Your mind felt numb, overwhelmed by the delicious stimulation. Each rhythmic thrust, his hard cock through his pants teasing your clothed core, and the skillful touch of his lips on your clothed nipple was an intoxicating combination. The fear of falling added an extra layer of excitement to the already electrifying atmosphere.

A distant ringing sound reached your ears, but you were too consumed by the moment to pay it any attention. You assumed it was just your ears playing tricks on you. However, the sound seemed oddly familiar. His lips and grinding abruptly stopped, causing you to whimper in disbelief. Your brow furrowed, eyes still closed, as his lips broke contact with your breast. Confusion washed over you as you tried to comprehend what was happening. The ringing sound persisted, growing louder, but it felt as if it was coming from a distance.

You opened your eyes, breathing heavily, desperate to understand why everything had suddenly come to a halt. The ringing continued to echo in your ears, resembling the buzzing of bees. And then, your gaze met his dark eyes.

"Your phone," he said, his voice deep and rough. But you couldn't comprehend his words. Confusion etched across your face, your eyebrow shooting up to touch your hairline.

"Huh?" you managed to utter, still lost in the haze of the moment.

"Someone's calling you," he repeated, directing his gaze towards your purse on the floor. And then it hit you, why the ringing had sounded so familiar. Your face flushed an even deeper shade of red, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

He gently places you down, and your heels wobble beneath you, but you manage to grab onto his shirt just in time to prevent yourself from falling to the ground. You glance at him apologetically, but he simply nods his head slightly, a faint smile forming on his lips, revealing the same dimple as before.

Releasing your grip on his shirt, you turn around and bend down to retrieve your purse from the floor.

You straighten up abruptly, when you sense him taking a deep breath. You run your hands over your dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. You reach for your phone, and notice that the screen is still illuminated with Lila's name. You choose not to answer the call, knowing that she's probably completely intoxicated. She has never called you this many times in her entire life, except when she's drunk.

You turn back to face him, and there he stands, looking like a model with his hands tucked into his pockets and a few strands of his blonde hair falling onto his forehead. You swallow nervously before offering him a cautious smile.

"My friend needs me," you inform him, raising your phone in the air to show him the screen, even though he didn't ask. He hums in response and retrieves his glasses from his pocket, placing them back on his face. You can see the muscles beneath his thick shirt flexing with each movement.

"I should go," you speak up when he remains silent, feeling the awkwardness fill the air. With your legs still feeling a bit unsteady, you begin to take slow steps towards the exit to the rooftop.

As you reached the door, a wave of sadness filled your heart knowing that he didn't try to stop you. But just as you were about to leave, he suddenly grabs your wrist, causing you to turn around in surprise. A wave of relief washes over you.

"Here, take this. Let's meet next time," he says softly, placing a card in your hand.

Leaning in close, his warm breath tickles your ear as he adds, "And then we'll continue our remainder session." His voice husky, barely audible, causing a shiver of excitement run through your whole body.

With that, he releases your wrist, and you hold onto the card tightly, a smile playing on your lips. Your once heavy heart now feels light and free.

You nod as he takes a step back, revealing a perfect dimple on his cheek. With admiration in your eyes, you take one last look at him before exiting the roof.

As you made your way off the roof, the sound of your footsteps echoed in your ears, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. The card in your hand felt like a precious treasure, a tangible reminder of the connection you had just shared.

As you descended the stairs, your mind began to wander, replaying the encounter over and over again. His words echoed in your mind, each syllable carrying a promise of something more. The thought of meeting again, of continuing the session that had been interrupted, filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

#drabble #smut #bts drabble #bts smut #writers on tumblr #namjoon x reader #namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #yoongi x reader #kim namjoon smut #making out #bts fics

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somanyratsinthewalls · 9 months

Text

Kinktober Special Part 2

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 2) (+18)

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.

Pairing: Franky x afab!reader

WC: 3100 I'm so sorry

TW: IS THIS A SAFE SPACE?!?! Banging a robot, alcohol consumption oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, crying, forced orgasm? face shot, heavy use of pet names, cringe, his body is a sex toy idk, cringe, so much cringe, please forgive me I love him, idc

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Robo-boning uder the cut:

Chapter 2: The Cyborg

It was a breezy evening aboard the Sunny as you sipped from your wine glass while leaning forward against the railing of the deck. Sanji had once again prepared the crew a fantastic meal and you felt full and comfortable with the cool sea wind blowing through your hair. It was late, most of the crew had returned to their quarters. Zoro was up in his crows nest dojo having a late night workout, Franky had returned to his workshop to fiddle with some new cannon technology, Luffy was in a food coma and snoring loudly laid up against the mast, and even Sanji had finished dishes with Robin’s help and excused himself to bed. Robin was always so helpful with the dishes with her Devil Fruit powers and all.

You were alone out here with only the sounds of the waves crashing against the hull and your captain’s aggressive snoring. You thought about how you missed your old life, but also how happy you were with the Straw Hats. You loved your job at the brothel and it certainly was less dangerous… but this new life? It was… exhilarating. You loved it.

*I think I need something stronger* you thought to yourself…

You looked at your empty wine glass and walked into the galley for something more exciting. It was spotlessly clean and empty. You opened up the liquor cabinet and perused your options. Vodka, tequila, gin, rum.. hmm…

*It’s a pirate’s life for me, I guess.* You giggled and grabbed the bottle of spiced rum off the shelf. You realized that taking it straight from the bottle was a little barbaric for a late night solo cocktail and went to the fridge for a mixer. Orange juice, mineral water, nothing suitable to mix with rum. You wracked your brain, what would go well with rum? A lightbulb went off in your brain, there’s an obvious choice. Cola!

Rum and cola went together like peanut butter and jelly, like pancakes and syrup, like tea and honey. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a tasty drink… You knew there wasn’t any cola in the kitchen, but you knew exactly where it was. You filled a glass from the cabinet with ice and held it in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other. You pushed past the swinging galley door towards the hallway that went to the center of the ship. You skipped down a flight of stairs until you reached a wooden door marked with blue cartoonish stars. Blue lettering adorned the top of the doorway reading ‘Franky House.’

*So nostalgic of him* you chuckled to yourself before knocking twice.

“What’s up?” You hear Franky’s booming voice from the other side of the door. You opened the door and sidled in with your glass and bottle in hand.

“Oh heyyy pretty thing, what are you doing up at this hour?” Franky turned on his stool next to his workbench to look at you.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You smiled at him as you strode confidently towards the fridge you spotted in the corner of his room. “Fancied myself a rum and cola, figured you’d be the guy to call about finding a bottle of cola around here.”

“Yeah babe! Mi cola es su cola!” He flashed you a winning smile before he turned back towards his work bench and continued fiddling with whatever gadget he was working on before your intrusion. You grabbed a bottle of brown syrupy liquid from the fridge and brought it over to him. You said nothing, just pointed the head of the bottle in his direction. He barely looked up as he reached his large hard out and popped the cap off of the bottle for you. You smiled.

“Thanks, handsome.”

You returned to the desk in the middle of the room where you had set your rum and glass, setting the cola down. You picked up the rum and poured a GENEROUS amount over the ice. You topped it off with the freshly popped cola and brought the glass to your lips. Holy shit you over did it with the rum but damn, that’s good. You took a few more sips and let out a big sigh.

“Rough day, sweet cheeks?” Franky laughed after hearing your exasperated sigh.

“Hmm.. I guess. Just feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”

Franky’s hands continued to manipulate the mechanical item on his work bench.

“Yeah I get it. It happened to all of us, ya have this whole life and then all of a sudden you’re a pirate. It’s super weird. You’ll get used to it, y/n, we all do. We can talk about it, if ya like.” He doesn’t turn around. He had always been so good at expressing his emotions, such a tender and kind soul. He knew how you felt, and wanted you to feel heard.

*Such a sweet heart for a robot* you thought to yourself. But he wasn’t a robot, he was still a man. Sure, his body was more metal than flesh at this point, but it didn’t take away from what a gentle spirit he had. You started to wonder what other human instincts he had left…

“Honestly Frank? I’m kind of trying not to think about it. What are you working on?” You walk over to his work bench and lean up next to him, against the table backwards, able to see the item on the table but facing his body.

“Oh this? Nothing totally crazy, just something I was thinking about for my forearm cannon. You see this part here…” He was excitedly telling you about his work, clearly passionate about his science. You nod and give him “hmm”’s here and there. You pour another strong drink and bring it back over to Franky’s work bench. You set the glass in front of him.

“I can’t be the only one indulging tonight, right?” You say seductively as you slide the glass towards his massive chest.

“Well little lady, I’m usually a cola purist, but I guess one drink won’t hurt.” Franky grabs the glass in his large hand and slams the drink in one gulp. He hisses out, not prepared for how strong you made the cocktail.

“My god girl, you’re trying to get me drunk?!”

You laugh out loud and pour yourself another drink.

“No no, just trying to get more comfortable!” You laugh again. “Now tell me more about this hydraulic, fusion combustion, thingy again…”

You say this as you set yourself down on Franky’s wide lap, drink in hand.

“Okay so if you can see this piece right here…” Franky continued explaining his latest project to you as you became distracted by his handsome features. He had a strong, chilled jaw, defined abs, incredible thighs and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his swim briefs. Was it still real? Did he have anything or was he like a doll?

You let your thoughts get the better of you and you set your glass down on the workbench. You slid to your knees in between Franky’s spread legs and let your head rest on his thigh.

“WoAAhhh sweet thing, something else on your mind?” He dropped what he was working on and lifted his sunglasses onto his head as he looked down at you. He leaned back. You giggled up at him while stroking his crotch slowly.

“mmmm yes. How could I not wonder? I’ve thought about it so much. Never had someone like you before…” You drew your face closer to the growing bulge in his swim briefs as you palm him.

“Are you sure? How much do you want it? It might be too much for ya, doll face…” Franky puts his large palm on the side of your face, seemingly a bit concerned.

“I want it. I can take it, please show me.” Your fingers worked at the hem of his tight black speedo before he helped you bring it down to his ankles. You pull them all the way off and return to your kneeled position between his legs.

“Wow…”

His cock was so gorgeous. It had to be real. It was so long, thinner than you’d like, but the length was truly impressive. The base was decorated with tufts of blue hair.

“Is this good for ya, babe? Tell me what ya like and I can make it happen." Franky stroked your hair as you were staring at his cock from between his knees.

“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. Was he that confident in his sexual abilities? You felt your cunt clench in anticipation.

“No, this," He nods his head down at his erect cock. "I can make it anything you want. Too big?” You stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Want bigger? Maybe you’re a little size queen?” Franky smirked at you with those last words.

“No no,” You stuttered out. “Could you… could you maybe make it a little… thicker?” You were so embarrassed, you felt so silly asking for this man to change up his own cock for you.

“Of course doll, if you want to be stretched out real good, who am I to deny you?” Franky smiled as he pressed his metal nose.

You stared at his erect penis as it became girthier right before your eyes.

“No way…” You gasped quietly to yourself.

“Yes way baby! You really thought I would rebuild my own body and not give myself an incredible dick?” He grinned down at you between his legs. “Now… where were we?”

You felt his hand gently push the back of your head towards his newly engorged cock. You were snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the thick length with both hands and began to pump it slowly.

“Perfect….” Franky cooed at you as you stroked him.

You leaned forward and took his tip into your mouth. He groaned loudly. You knew he would be loud, he always is, why would now be any different?

You gradually took more and more of his cock into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down. With each pull backwards you slurped and dragged your tongue across the bulbous head of his dick.

“Fuck, shit, just like that…” He tried so hard not to ram his hips into your face, knowing it would scare you off. His body was too strong.

“Shit baby… You’re way too good at this… get up here and let me stuff you.”

Once again your pussy squeezed around nothing, pushing out a drip of your arousal. Franky leaned down and grabbed your hips to pull you upward.

In a moment you were on your back on Franky’s workbench, his projects swept to the the floor with one brush of his huge forearm. He was man handling your body to pull all your clothes off of you. You lay back down on the table, now fully bare in front of him.

“Franky, fuck me. Please. I want it.”

He hovered over you, massive body eclipsing yours.

“And you’re sure? I told you it might be too much… Once I start… well it can just be a lot for someone who isn't used to it.” Franky asked you for the last time, making sure you knew what you were getting into.

“Yes, Frank. I’m so sure.”

He pushed you down forcefully, but you protested by rising to your elbows and catching his lips in a wet kiss. He accepted your kiss and forced his tongue past your spit covered lips. You groaned at his dominance, such a change from how you were used to being with your other lovers.

After making out for several moments, you whined a bit too loudly when he pinched at your nipple.

“Okay okay needy girl, I’ll give you what you want now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

He pushes your thighs up with one hand as he lines his perfect cock up with your sopping hole with the other. He squeezes himself in slowly.

“Holy FUCK, my GOD Franky…!” You shout out as he sinks balls deep inside of you, having you in a mating press with one hand due to his large stature.

“Oh pretty lady, we haven’t even started.” He begin to pull out and shove himself back into your cunt, slick coating his cock more and more with each thrust. You slammed your eyes shut in pleasure, his dick was hitting all the perfect spots inside of you almost like it was made perfectly to fit your body… oh wait… it was.

All of a sudden you felt a new sensation along with his heft length splitting you open. Was he… vibrating? Your neck snapped up and your eyes shot open to meet his above you.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. Had to add something for the ladies pleasure, right?”

“FRANKY!” Your body lurched forward and grabbed his biceps. You had never felt anything like this before. It’s like your body was lit up by electricity. The smooth drag of his vibrating cock against your g-spot was complete sensory overload.

Franky chuckled. He continued railing into your tiny body, chasing his own pleasure, not worried that you’d reach yours.

“Frank I’m going to-!” You yelped as your body tumbled over the edge in pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your spasming cunt pushed out your release all over your lovers abdomen and legs.

“Wow doll face, I never thought you’d be a squirter!” Franky laughed over you as he drilled his hips into yours further, not concerned about your recovery from your intense orgasm. Your body was limp in his hold now, not able to produce any sort of coherent phrase.

“Franky wait, I feel like-Ah!“

You were cumming again. It was only a few moments after your last orgasm and your center was squeezing and creaming on Franky’s thick robotic cock again. You had lost full control over your body, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You screamed. You had no idea what words you were trying to scream, but you screamed.

“You like that, huh baby? How about one more for me? I think you can do it, right?” Tears streamed down your face as you laid on his workbench, boneless. Your cunt was throbbing in both pain and pleasure. You were being thrust into so forcefully that your body slid back and forth on the table, your breasts basically hitting you in the chin as they bounced so aggressively.

“Mmmm.. Hmm. FUCK! Yes I can do it, I can take it!” You felt drunk on pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes focused. The sensations in your pussy were unlike anything you’d ever experienced. As your cyborg lover pounded into you at an impossible speed, you felt the familiar wave of pressure bubble up from your center, but this time far more intense than the others.

“There it is baby, I can feel it, I knew you could do it for me sweet thing.” He coaxed you into tipping over the edge. Your back arched and you shrieked up at him. You vision went completely white for a moment as you felt your massive release splattering against Franky’s thighs and cock. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room as you felt your cunt start to tingle with numbness and overstimulation,

“Can’t… it’s too much!” You whine loudly at him as you make a feeble attempt to push at his abs, not entirely sure what you wanted yet.

“That’s just fine doll face, I’ve got something else in mind anyway.” He flashes you a huge grin before grabbing you around your ribs and setting you down on your knees on the floor in front of him.

“Open wide, pretty lady!” He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail with one hand and stroked his massive cock in front of your face with the other.

Obviously after 3 earth-shattering orgasms you were putty in his large hands. You stick your tongue out and look up at him. After seeing the makeup smeared on your face from spit and sweat and tears, there was no way he could hold back any longer.

“Fuuuuuuuck…!” He groaned out as he painted your eager, wrecked face with simply so much cum. It dripped off your cheeks and your chin as you happily kept your mouth open for him. He finally finishes his release and taps his cock on your tongue, so you can taste the last bit.

“Shit you look so super like this!” Franky beamed down at you covered in his thick cum. You grin back up at him, delirious from exhaustion, cum dribbling down your neck. “But I guess I can’t leave ya like that huh?” He grabbed a clean rag from a drawer in his workbench and started wiping his seed off your face, you were so exhausted your eyes fell closed and you held your head in his free hand.

“Hold on hold on doll, I’m almost done then I’ll put ya to bed.” Franky finished cleaning your face and picked up up off your knees and set you down on his bed. He tucked you in and went to put back on the little clothing he had on in the first place. He moved towards the door of his room.

“Well thanks for the break, little lady! I have a repair I need to finish up on the deck tonight, but you get some rest.” Franky says from over his shoulder on the way out to the rest of the ship. You close your eyes and relax your bruised and exhausted body into Franky’s mattress.

"Hey, if you’re feeling up to it when I get back, we can have a round 2! You haven’t even seen half the super stuff I can do, I just went easy on you!” He shouted as he left the room with his toolbox and the door closed behind him.

Your eyes snapped open.

“WHAT?!”

---

a/n I again, am so sorry lol but Franky needs more love. Justice for Franky Fuckers.

#one piece smut #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece fandom #one piece live action #one piece netflix #cyborg franky #franky #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

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rumor-weed · 8 months

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JOHN MULANEY STARTER PROMPTS

Kid Gorgeous Edition.

“He was a man most acquainted with misery.”

“None of that matters, but it's important to me that you know that.”

“He did not look like his job description.”

“He looked like he should be the conductor on a locomotive powered by confetti.”

“But, instead, he made his living in murder.”

“He was the weirdest goddamn person I ever saw in my entire life.”

“He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.”

“Shut up! You're all gonna die. Street Smarts!"”

“You remember the scourge of muggings when you were in second and third grade.”

"Man, I need cash for drugs right now.”

“Okay, you can get these at any haberdashery.”

“Buy a money clip. Engraved, question mark?”

“Hey, Dad. Can I have a silver money clip with a $50 bill in it, please?” (Or sub “dad” for character name, if you’re a coward)

“The man with the mustache told me to do it.”

“Let's say a kidnapper throws you in the back of a trunk.”

“You kids have no upper body strength.”

“Yeah, he was not a "spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down" kind of guy.”

“Brush your teeth. Now, boom, orange juice. That's life.”

“Fight the guy off using weird, psych-out, back-room Chicago violence.”

“I chewed up a tab of Alka-Seltzer I carry with me at all times. This created a foaming-at-the-mouth appearance that made it look like I had rabies.”

“Now I've thrown him off his rhythm.”

“Okay. Your odds of coming back alive from the primary location, about 60%. But if you are taken to a secondary location, your odds of coming back alive are slim to none.”

“I am 35 years old and I am still terrified of secondary locations.”

“Nah, sister. You're not getting me to no secondary location.”

“I thought I was going to be murdered my entire childhood.”

“Top three colleges? I thought I would be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”

“I just got a letter from my college, which was fun 'cause mail, you know?”

“So then I had to speed to Goodwill really fast.”

“It was charitable, but it was also fast and violent.”

“I was throwing boxes at people. The boxes were so heavy I couldn't even say what was in them.”

“This one's shirts. I got a bunch of shirts! Take 'em away!"

“How do I write that on my taxes?”

“My mom said it could be a sleep shirt. Please deduct this from my 2017 income.”

“So rather than violate these meaningless politeness rules, I'll just go to bed in a smock like goddamn Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“I'll tremble off to bed in my long Victorian nightgown.”

“Was there ever even a ghost, Mother, or was the dead Victorian girl you saw just me all along?”

“And that's why you shouldn't give to charity.”

“I found out recently that jokes don't do well in court.”

"Hey, that lawsuit with my neighbor is still dragging on.”

“Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you? Because it sounds like he sucks and I will totally kill that guy for you.”

“Okay. See you at improv practice.”

“Strange, the passage of time.”

“I'm not that old. I'm 35, that is not old.”

“I never knew about this, but I am now gross.”

#ask memes #John Mulaney #kid gorgeous #RP starters #starter prompts #John Mulaney RP starters #John Mulaney starters #John Mulaney kid gorgeous #alter as needed #if I make another it’ll be the new special #John Mulaney ask memes

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starmistz · 7 months

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Killua taking Gon on a date? (ﾟ∀ﾟ)

Was just continuing my rewatch on HxH, and something IMMEDIATELY caught my eye. I believe it is yet another silly subtext on Killua's romantic feelings towards Gon that Togashi put xD. (This happened on episode 86—which is chapter 201 in the manga!)

I'll be talking about this specific panel:

Oke so this happened right after Killua and Gon met Palm. They go to a restaurant so they can have their conversation about this Knuckle and Shoot thing. It's perfectly normal to choose a restaurant for that since Killua and Gon mostly go to restaurants to discuss stuff. But I 100% believe this specific restaurant conversation was a date, because !!! it's definitely a love restaurant. AND I HAVE PROOF SO SHH!!!

First of all, the uniform of the waitress:

She's legit dressed like those waitresses you see in Shoujo animes where the couple goes on a restaurant/cafe date. Not to mention, the literal heart on her chest!!

If that's not convincing enough, then literally look at this omurice:

The word on the omurice is written in the HxH alphabet, but I managed to translate it. :3

Ra, Fu, and a dakuten. The dakuten sign transforms F -> B = Bu. I'm also aware that the letter I is the same as the dakuten sign, but since it's small, and was placed at the top of Fu, then it's a dakuten. This means that it spells out -Rabu- which is the Japanese pronounciation of love. ᵔᴗᵔ

Now, I know the manga panel did not highlight or even write that on the food, but it's safe to assume that the animators drew that to imply that this IS a love restaurant. Seeing Togashi's drawing of the uniform, the animators understood what type of uniform that was, and where it's worn. Then proceeded to make it clear for us viewers that Killua and Gon are in a love restaurant by drawing "love" on the food.

And also, the waitress literally appears in front which covers Killua and Gon. I find it funny cause Togashi's obviously implying that this waitress is important to look at, like "BOOM check this waitress out!!! I'm highlighting what type of waitress she is, so look! Look at her!"

But that's not all, I also noticed the food being prepared at Killua and Gon's table.

That's quite a lot of food being prepared, and they look good too. It's not the usual -fast food, big meat, big chicken, spaghetti, orange juice- typa shit like what these two usually order. There's cake, pasta, coffee/tea (i can't tell), smoothies, and whatever else is there. And you know what this looks like? Killua working his ass off to properly choose and prepare nice and decent food for him and Gon—like he's arranging a date! (^^)b

I personally think Killua's the one who chose the restaurant, and the one who ordered the food because Gon just doesn't look like the type to give a shit about where they eat, nor choose those types of food, and Killua being the type to arrange where they eat cause he's that picky rich kid with tastes lol.

ANYWAAAYYY it's too convincing that he took Gon on a date, cause this also happened right a lil' bit after the "Gon you are light" scene—which we all claim as the confirmation of Killua's romantic feelings for Gon. So it's like Killua's just acting on crush instincts. ◠ᗜ◠ It genuinely seemed like he took their discussion—about Knuckle and Shoot—as an opportunity to take Gon on a date, too. (He sneaky as heeelll.)

This was nothing too serious, I just thought it was a cute and adorable detail that Togashi added!

#hxh #hxh gon #hxh killua #killugon #hunter x hunter #gay subtext #queer subtext #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #gonkillu #hunter x hunter killua #hunter x hunter gon

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p0ssywhippedcream · 1 year

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oooh what do you think would happen if jason (grace) stood you up by accident like he was doing something and he just... forgot

Tangerines. Orange peels littered your thighs as you nervously chewed on the fruit. It had been an hour since the start time of your picnic with Jason and you'd gone through 6 tangerines.

You sat with upright posture, despite doubts, he had to show up soon. Your eyes were wide and alert as you searched the crowd on the green patch of park you occupied. He would show up soon with some excuse about getting lost in his work with minor deities and he would give you that lovely, toothy smile as he sat down.

One minute, two, four, seven, eleven, twenty went by. Two more tangerines filled your belly. Why had you brought so many tangerines? You dropped the ninth fruit back in the basket and sighed. The tangy acid of the fruit stung in your nail beds and your fingernails had stringy pieces stuck underneath them.

You pushed your hair behind your ear and left a strand of it sticky with the juice. Your posture failed, you uncrossed your legs with a huff and finally let the tears take your eyes. Just thirty more minutes and then you'd leave. You just had to make sure he wasn't coming.

You sipped at your cup of orange juice and groaned as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. It was dipping steadily, Apollo clearly had no mercy for your need for warmth. Clouds took the sky, popping up out of nowhere and turning the day gray. You looked up and you could swear the gods were laughing at you as a raindrop exploded on your eyebrow.

With a few curses, you began to pack up the picnic basket that was busy with watermelon and pb&j sandwhiches. You stuffed all the peels in unceremoniously as the rain really began to pour. Your ponytail got soaked and allowed the water a single path down your back, each droplet in your hair flowing down it and drenching your clothes.

Snatching the blanket and basket with growing rage, you tilted your chin to the sky and shouted, "I get it! Ha ha! Very funny, Jupiter!"

Several mortals also running for cover in the park gave you strange looks that you discarded. Whatever, fine, Jason and his dad could go sit and spin for all you cared. A little voice in your head reminded you that you did care, that it hurt and that your cheeks weren't wet with only precipitation.

You wiped them with the picnic blanket and when you were done, let it drag behind you in the mud. God, did it have to rain this hard? Thunder boomed in the distance, a reminder of sky daddy's chuckles at your state.

The bus ride home to near Camp Half Blood was barely acknowledged. Walking the half mile from the stop was, the rain blinding you even with the dirty fabric of picnic blanket draped over your head. Entering the border, the weather receded to dark clouds and you dropped your belongings, shaking yourself like a wet dog. Peleus sniffed you and grunted when the droplets hit his face, pulling away and re-tucking his head in the truck of Thalia's tree.

You grabbed your things and marched to the cabins with a frown that couldn't be turned upside down. Right as you passed Cabin 1, a flurry of orange and blonde flew out the door and knocked you on your butt.

Your boyfriend landed on his as well, his eyes flashing with joy that was cut short by realization as he sees you.

"Y/n! I was just about to leave-"

He was on his feet before you, a calloused hand in your face which you pushed away roughly.

"Yeah? Two and a half fricking hours late?"

Jason winced. "I didn't mean- I was sketching a stat-"

You stood up with a red face. "No, no! I get it! You're a busy guy, Jason. You can't be bothered to show up to a picnic you planned because you're so busy!"

A few campers had come to the doors of their cabins to check out the commotion and at Cabin 7, Kayla muttered "Damn."

"I'm sorry, I lost-"

"Lost track of time?" You finished for him. His hands halted halfway up to hold your face, his guilt was obvious and maybe later you'd feel bad for yelling so publicly but Jason had forgotten you one too many times. "Do you know what a clock is, Jason? It tells time. Maybe buy one and you won't loose track of it! Or-! Or even better, Jason, buy an alarm clock! That's a clock that lets you know when you have to do something, like go on a date with your girlfriend!"

You shook with rage for a moment, probably looking ridiculous dripping wet with mud splattered on your legs and shoes and washed away mascara. Nobody said anything for a moment, not even the other kids watching with interest. You met his sad eyes and all the fight left you. Disappointment replaced anger and you sighed, looking away.

"I know that your work is important to you, Jason. I won't give you an ultimatum and that's mainly because I know... you wouldn't choose me. I just wish-I just wish you would try to care about me half as much as you care about that. That's all."

Without another look at your devastated boyfriend, you dragged yourself and your dirty belongings away and trudged to your cabin. Nobody stopped you but one of your siblings did help you out of your dirty shoes at the door and handed you a towel with a hand on your back steering you to the showers.

You brought your hands to your head to detangle your hair and caught a whiff of tangy fruit. You paused and examined your muddy fingers that reeked of tangerines and knew you'd never be able to eat another one without a reminder of today. You practically threw your hands in the sink as you gave them a deep scrubbing.

Jason stood outside for a moment, looking only at the spot you'd been just seconds before. Self-hate bubbled up in his lungs and he couldn't breathe, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"I'm sorry.." He murmured and looked up to see the other campers quickly evade his gaze and duck away. He turned and stalked off into his cabin again, his eyes quickly filling as his brain clouded with shame.

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