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arieslost · 6 months

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the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.��

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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x0xomady · 4 months

Text

But Daddy I love him !

(based on the song from TTPD)

part 2

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings: smut, p in v, marijuana consumption, oral sex, pet names, 18+

(harrystyles!dealer x female reader) both are 18!

summary: senior year of high school y/n falls in love with the new plug at school.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i HATE high school.

that might sound stereotypical like i’m one of those emo girls that hates everything, but i’m not. i just HATE high school.

for the first couple years everything was going great. freshman and sophomore year were so much fun. i had a big group of friends and i was pretty popular. i was even dating the cute skater boy! it was literally a teenage romcom like ’10 things i hate about you’.

however, that all went to shit.

the downfall of my teenage years first began when my asshole ex thought leaking my nudes to the entire junior class was a good idea. so naturally instead of standing up for me, my friends turned on me and said i was a slut.

after that traumatizing incident, i learned one thing. high school is temporary so why waste my time on bitchy friends?

that’s the attitude i had coming into senior year and it’s the one that’s kept me going for the last few months.

i stopped dressing preppy and popular because my “friends” wanted me too and i started dressing like i want to.

life is going fucking great now. i smoke weed, go to class, and binge watch gilmore girls. i don’t have to go to those god awful parties on the weekends, i can just relax.

the only way thing going bad for me right now was the fact that my dealer moved away. now i had to find a new one which isn’t hard, just annoying.

from what i’ve heard there’s 2 other dealers on campus. one is a freshman that steals shit from his dad and sells it. the other one is a random british guy that moved here last year.

i’m probably going to choose the new british guy.

so that was my goal for today. i’m going to find the new british guy in my class and buy weed so i don’t die during midterms week.

from what i’ve heard about this mystery british guy is his name is either harvey, harry, or harden. i’ve also heard he’s insanely hot and rejects all the girls that ask him out. although, if we’re being real here, most british guys are hot just because of their voices. so, i’m doubting he’ll be that hot. he’s probably going to have nasty ass teeth and be short.

walking down the halls of the school is kind of fun for me. i blast music in my headphones and pretend like i’m not in this hell hole. my outfit is casual and comfy so i’m honestly pretty confident right now.

as i walk into my first class i sit in my usual seat i see a new guy sitting next to me. i glance at him and can’t remember if i’ve ever seen him before. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him, but i can say for a fact that he is very, very, VERY attractive.

the new guy is sitting back against his chair, manspreading of course, with his headphones in. he’s wearing a black hoodie and dark blue jeans. he looks so casually perfect it’s slightly alarming.

i turn towards the front of the classroom as my teacher begins to drone on about different math equations. however, throughout the 50 minute class, my eyes kept wandering back over to the very attractive boy sitting next to me.

i TRIED to keep my thoughts off of him. i mean, i have completely sworn off dating and crushes for the rest of high school because of the last one that fucked me over.

my thoughts are cut off by the boy tapping me on the shoulder. my mind freezes and i turn towards him.

“yeah?” i try to act all nonchalant and mysterious but i said yeah WAY to quickly and excitedly.

the boy smiles slightly and leans over whispering to me. “do ya get a thing he's droning on about?”

oh fuck. the british accent.

“no i really don’t i'm completely zoned out right now.” i whisper back to the british boy.

he nods and leans back in his chair watching the teacher talk. he is sitting there with his knees casually spread and his arms crossed.

we sit there for another 10 minutes listening to the teacher talk about different functions until he announces.

“alright for the last 15 minutes of class go over the problems on the board with the person next to you.” the teacher points to the problems then sits at the desk so we can all work with our partners.

the boy smirks and turns his head back towards me. “ready to fail together?”

i can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips. i usually try to stay pretty unbothered and calm at school, but something about the way this curly headed boy was smiling at me made me a bit giddy.

AND he has weed, small plus.

“yeah lets do it” i nod and we start working on the equations together. he scoots closer to me and rests his head propped up on his arm while i start writing things down.

he watches me write for a second before speaking up. “y’have pretty handwriting.”

i look at him a bit surprised but smile a little bit. blush slowly creeps up on my cheeks as he compliments me. “really? never heard that before.” i shrug.

“yeah never seen someone write their three’s with a curl before. it’s adorable.” he smirks and looks up at me for a second before looking back down at my writing.

i’m about to speak up again but the teacher cuts me off. “if you haven’t finished the problems yet, do them tonight and turn them in tomorrow morning.”

he looks over at me with a smile, “we still have quite a few questions left."

“yeah this is going to take a while.” i sigh looking down at the 32 questions we have to work on.

he turns his body towards me more and props his arm up against the back of the chair next to me. “where do you eat lunch?”

i shrug. “probably in the library today because i have a fuck ton of work to catch up on.”

“hm okay. mind if i join you? we could finish the work then.” he has a small smile on his face while i sit there looking flustered as ever.

“oh yeah sure.” i nod and smile a little bit. “i’ll just be on the couches in the back. come find me.” he nods and we both exit the classroom.

holy shit. THAT was the guy i’m supposed to buy from? i’m going to be needing a LOT more weed than i thought.

throughout all of the drama that went down junior year, i have had one friend remain loyal to me. y/bsf/n and i have been friends since freshman year of high school and have stayed close ever since.

as soon as i walked out of math i rushed to find her. naturally, i found her touching up her makeup in the girls bathroom.

“GUESS WHAT?” i squeal as i burst into the girls bathroom.

she immediately drops her mascara and whips around to face me. “WHAT WHAT”

i smile and grab her shoulders. “I’M EATING LUNCH WITH THE HOT BRITISH PLUG”

y/bsf/n face drops and she squeals excitedly. “OMG I SAW HIM THIS MORNING HE IS SO- ”

“can you guys shut up? i’m trying to wash my hands” a random girl glares at us.

“um no? can you go wash your shit covered hands then leave?” she snaps back at her. the girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom.

i’m too excited to even care. we stand there for the next couple minutes before class starts talking about what i’m going to do and how to talk to him.

another girl walks up to the mirrors and suddenly turns to us with an “i’ve got gossip” look. “you know i heard he only wears long sleeved hoodies and shirts to school because he’s a heroin addict that’s covering track marks.”

both y/bsf/n and i roll our eyes and shake our head. “that’s a dumbass rumor don’t spread shit like that.” i glare at her.

the girl rolls her eyes and shrugs. “might be true.”

“wait wait pause.” my face drops as i look at y/bsf/n.

“what?”

“i don't even know his name. the only thing i know is that it starts with an H” my eyes widen in the realization that i didn’t even introduce myself in class today.

“uhhh i think it’s harvey? i’m like 80% sure.” she shrugs and continues doing her makeup in the mirror as i stand there freaking out.

“harvey?! like steve harvey? theres no way thats his name.” i roll my eyes.

“whatever, just ask him! oooh maybe if you guys hookup he’ll give you free weed!” she smirks at me.

“NO i’m not using him for free stuff. that is so fucked up.”

she rolls her eyes and applies her lipgloss. “fine fine. be all moral if you want.” the bell rings and the both of us leave the bathroom. i head towards my english class with the elated feeling of what’s to come.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

by the time lunch rolls around i’m feeling giddy as ever. y/bsf/n had been hyping me up for the last four periods which wasn’t helping my excitement die down at all.

i walk into the library building and walk to the back where my usual lunch study couch is. i set my tote bag and lap top down and get comfy waiting for “H” to show up. if his name is actually harvey theres no way in hell i’ll be able to take him seriously.

after about five minutes he walks over and plops down on the couch next to me. “ready?”

“yeah lets finish this shit.” i nod and pull out my work while he grabs his. “so can i ask your name? i totally forgot to ask this morning.”

he pauses and turns to me with a smirk. “wait you don’t know my name?”

my eyes widen and i try to play it off. “uh… no how would i know your name?”

he instantly starts laughing and covers his mouth. “really? we’ve been in the same math class for 5 months!”

i stare at him in shock and guilt for a second before snapping out of it and smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m pretty zoned out or high during math.”

“yeah i got that.” he smirks and looks at me. “i even know your name y/n”

i feel blush start to creep up my cheeks as i hear my name drop from his lips. is it from embarrassment or being flustered? we’ll never know, but it’s probably a mix. he knows my name? fuck.

“oh i’m so sorry.” i meet his eyes with a nervous and embarrassed look.

“no you’re good. this is only the second time we’ve ever interacted so i understand.” he still has a smug smile on his face. “well my name’s harry.”

“ohh harry? my friend told me something completely different.” i smile. thank GOD i didn’t call him harvey. i would’ve died from the humiliation if that slipped out.

harry smirks and looks back over at me. “wow already talking about me to your friends? good to know i make an impression.”

my face heats up at his teasing words, but i try to play it off. “well it’s not often a british guy sits next to me in math.”

“yeah i guess thats true.” harry nods and leans back against the couch. “i’ve always known who you were. which might sound creepy but i promise it’s not.”

“really?” how would he know who i am? besides math we don’t have anything together. we don’t even run in the same friend group.

“yeah you’re like the hot girl that got trashed by her friends right?”

i roll my eyes. “yeah thats me. i’m guessing you saw my nudes.”

harry frowns and shrugs. “i didn’t look at them myself but i heard descriptions. i’m not a pervert i wouldn’t look at some random girls nudes.”

“okay thank you but, oh my gosh hearing about it is 10x worse!” i groan in embarrassment.

“hey, it’s not your fault. that ex and those “friends” of yours were total assholes for doing that to you.” harry gives me a sympathetic look before returning to the math problems.

“wait. if you’ve been in my class this whole time how have i not seen you before today?” the realization hits me that i’ve never even seen harry in class before. i would’ve remembered if i had, he’s not a face you would forget seeing.

harry shrugs. “i usually sit in the back on the other side of the classroom.”

“oh. so then why did you sit next to me in the front today?” i look at harry slightly confused.

“because you’re pretty.” he smirks at me.

my eyes widen and i blush a little. “oh thank you.”

for the next 30 minutes we talk mindlessly back and forth while working on our homework together. as lunch time comes to a close i remember why i was originally seeking out harry.

“hey i totally forgot to ask, but are you selling?”

harry puts down his notebook and crosses his arms looking at me with a small smile. “hm depends what you’re trying to buy.”

i roll my eyes and give him a look. “i think you know what i’m trying to buy.” harry chuckles quietly and continues teasing me.

“wow what is an innocent girl like you doing trying to buy pot?” he looks absolutely gorgeous like this. he’s leaning back comfortable with his arms crossed. those emerald green eyes search my face with an amused grin. “i think you’re daddy would be disappointed if he knew.”

“oh whatever.” i try to act annoyed but the way he is looking at me right now is intoxicating. “so you have it? because if you don’t i’m going to have to go to that weird ass freshman.”

harry laughs and rests his head agains the back of the couch. “of course i have something for you y/n. except i don’t sell at school so if you want something you’ll have to come over later.”

oh. OH go to his house? don’t have to ask me twice.

“yeah for sure.” i nod at him and play it off with a smile like i’m not internally squealing with joy.

harry pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to take. “put your number in and i’ll text you my address.”

my heart beat speeds up as i take the phone from him carefully. i quickly type in my number and create a contact with my name as, ‘y/n 💞’

a bright smile appears on his face when he sees my contact in his phone. harry glances back up at me and says, “god you’re so cute.”

i blush brightly and feel extremely flustered but i ignore it and nod. “text me your address and i’ll come over after school.”

harry smiles and nods. “alright.” he quickly types something into his phone. i hear a ding from my phone and see a text message from an unknown number. harry’s address is written so i quickly set the contact to ‘harry 🍃’

“cool see ya later y/n” harry nods at me and exists the library.

“bye” i sit there in shock of everything that just happened. he called me cute AND pretty? tonight is going to be un-fucking-real.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the first thought that comes to every girls mind when they are invited over to a guys house is, their outfit. so that’s where i am now. running around my room throwing shit around trying to find a cute outfit.

y/bsf/n was sitting on my bed telling me different things. “okay don’t wear a skirt that’s trying WAY too hard.”

“i know!” i groan and drop all my skirts on the ground before scrambling back to my closet.

“y/n look. the more you try the more shallow you’re going to come off. so just wear jeans and a cute top.” she shrugs and throws me a pair of my low rise jeans.

“yeah yeah you’re right.” i sigh and put the jeans on with a cute top, and my outfit is ready to go.

“ugh SO cute honey. you’re gonna wipe that sexy ass off his feet.” she claps happily and smiles.

i roll my eyes but smile. “okay whatever i have to go.” i kiss her cheek than head towards the door.

“yay go get high and laid bitch!” she giggles as i leave my bedroom.

harry’s house is a 15 minute drive from mine so i had to leave now if i was going to make it. i hate to admit it, but the gnawing feeling of anxiety and nervousness was finally hitting me.

usually when i’m over at guys houses, it’s very chill and i’m not worried because theres no reason to be. however, this time i’m actually nervous because i’m actually into the guy i’m seeing.

sure we only met officially today, but he’s hot, nice, and he has weed. what’s not to love?

as i drive up to harry’s house and see a decently sized house with a couple cars parked outside. i park on the street and touchup my makeup before walking up to the front door.

before i can chicken out and run away i ring the doorbell.

after a few seconds i hear someone run down the stairs and open the door. there, looking hot as ever, is harry. he’s wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and of course, the heavenly gray sweatpants.

it takes every ounce of self control in my body not to check him out.

“oh hey y/n. come in.” harry smiles at me and opens the door so i can enter his house. i step inside and see the typical suburban house. it’s very clean and there’s voices coming from the kitchen.

“thanks for letting me come over” i look up at harry as he is closing the door behind me.

“yeah for sure. cmon let’s go upstairs you don’t want to meet my parents.” he smirks and nods towards the staircase.

“okay” i nod and follow him up the staircase towards his room. it’s always fun going to other people’s houses and seeing little glimpses of what they’re day-to-day life is really like. it’s easy to put on a persona at school and hide yourself, but at your own home it’s impossible.

harry’s house is extremely nice. his parents have to be doctors or something because this is definitely upper middle class. there are pictures across the walls, awards for each person in the family, and paintings. It looks like harry has a sister… cute.

“that’s pretty.” i say pointing towards the large pairing hung in the middle of the wall. the painting really is beautiful. it was a picture of what looked like the New York skyline at sunset.

harry turns around and looks at the painting and then me. “oh yeah. my mom made that.”

“really? she's talented” i smile and continue following him down the hallway towards his room.

“hm yeah she’s an artist. we have a fuck ton of paintings around the house.” harry shrugs and opens the door to his room with me trailing behind him. “anyways… this is my room. just sit anywhere while i grab my shit.”

i nod and plop down onto the beanbag chair next to his desk. harry hums quietly as he goes over to his drawers and starts rummaging through them. harry’s room is decorated completely with posters, a guitar hung on the wall, and pictures pinned up.

i couldn’t help but admire him for a minute. it really was surprising to me how attractive this man was. theres cute guys, and then theres hot guys… like harry.

he continues looking through his drawers for a minute before pulling out a small paper baggie. i watch him put a couple things into it and then walk over to me.

i take the bag from harry gratefully and look up at him. “how much do i owe you?” i ask while pulling out my wallet.

harry shakes his head and sits down on his bed. “how about you smoke a joint with me and we’ll call it even?”

“really? that sounds like a win-win for me and a lose-lose for you. it’s fine harry i can pay.” i protest while opening my wallet and looking at him expectantly.

“mm nope. sounds like a win-win to me. i get to supply you so you don’t go to that weirdass freshman and i get to smoke with the pretty girl from my math class." he smirks and pulls out a joint shaking it between his fingers teasingly at me. “it’s alright y/n first times on me.” i roll my eyes but sense that he’s not going to give in and let me pay him.

“fine, fine, but next time i’m paying okay?” i never felt good about taking things for free. it made me feel like i owed a large debt to them in the future.

“sure whatever you say, love.” harry shrugs and pulls out his lighter and then pats the spot on the bed next to him. “now get up here with me so you can pay up.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 hours later ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

how did i end up straddling harry’s lap? good question! i have no fucking idea.

it started out chill. we were passing the joint back and forth while having a casual conversation. we talked about the bitches at our school, our summer plans, blah blah blah.

it was all going great and chill until harry decided to switch things up. maybe it was the fact that we are both baked, maybe it’s that we’ve had a weird sexual tension since this morning, but it switched up so fast.

it first started when harry made a comment about my lipgloss.

“hm i’ve never had strawberry pot before.” harry smirks and hands the joint back to me. i look at harry confused for a second trying to figure out what he meant.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean… you’re pretty pink lipgloss is getting all over it and it’s making it taste sweet.” he has the most smug look on his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

i roll my eyes as harry teases me about my lipgloss. “quit acting like you don’t like it.”

“i never said i didn’t like it! i was just saying, i think i have some lipgloss on too.” he chuckles and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. there was, in fact, lipgloss. oops.

i’m too high to even care so i just start giggling at harry’s fake angry expression. my giggling pulls a small smile onto harry’s lips.

“hey! i’m just trying to be a good friend here. you need to moisturize your lips regularly curly.” i erupt into a fit of giggles as harry simply smirks and takes another drag.

“oh you’re such a good girl trying to keep my lips moisturized.” harry rolls his eyes sarcastically and hands me the joint. i take it him from him and take another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs before turning back to harry.

“seriously harry, i’m a great friend. girls won’t kiss you if you have crusty ass lips.” i try to say that with a serious and straight face but i instantly burst out laughing again.

“wow what would i do without you?” he chuckles and takes the joint from me. “you know now that i’ve tasted your lipgloss… i kind of want to taste those pretty little lips of yours.” harry grins and taps his index finger agains my lips lightly.

i smile and shift so i’m sitting on harry’s lap straddling his hips. “that’s fine with me.”

harry puts the joint down on the ashtray next to his bed and rests his hands on my hips. “really that’s okay with you?”

“mhm” i nod and bring my hands up to play with his curls. harry’s green eyes search mine for a second before placing his hand on my cheek. he hums and traces his thumb carefully across my bottom lip.

“such a pretty thing hm.” he smirks and leans his head forward nudging my nose with his. i smile and play with his curls.

“so… can i have a kiss petal?” harry cups my cheek and leans in. without hesitation i lean in and connect our lips. harry sighs against me and holds my head close to him.

i wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss opening my lips to him. harry bites my bottom lip and pulls away for a second. i smile and look at him. “you’re a good kisser”

harry hums softly and kisses me on the jaw making me blush slightly. his hands grip my hips lightly has his kisses make their way down my neck.

“so fucking pretty, you know that? i’m obsessed with you” harry mumbles against my neck. “how did i not ask you over sooner?”

i smile and shift my hips so i’m sitting closer against him, a light blush painting my cheeks. “you should’ve. i would have said yes.”

“hm that right? i’ll keep it in mind.” he smirks and pulls my hips against him. his kisses continue to travel down my neck before stopping at my collar bone.

“lay down for me y/n” he says while kissing my neck.

i roll off harry’s lap onto my back onto his bed. he smiles and crawls over me. he props his arms up on either side of my head. harry looks so hot above me.

“can i taste you petal?” his bright green eyes turn dark filled with lust as he looked at me desperately. i nod eagerly and press my lips against him once more.

“please harry, need you.” i let out a soft moan as harry nips at my neck and travels down my body until he’s between my legs.

“gonna let me see you y/n?” he asks before pulling down my jeans and tossing them off the bed. i nod and watch as harry smirks up at me. his eyes travel down from my eyes to my core.

“so fucking pretty i swear.” he hums and presses a kiss against my clothes center. i moan quietly as his lips travel down my panties before pushing them to the side.

he pulls my panties to the side and lets out a groan as he presses a sweet kiss to my clit. i gasp and hold harry’s hair tightly.

“you taste so sweet baby.” he hums against my clit, sending vibrations up my body. i tug harry’s hair to escape the delicious torture but he just smiles up at me and continues kissing me. his thick ring clad hands holding my hips against his face.

“please harry- ” i whine and press my hips up against him. he sticks his tongue out flat and runs it up my pussy while keeping eye contact with me.

he pulls away for a second and grabs the joint for a second. his lips wrap around it taking a deep hit while watching me sit there impatiently. he smirks and pulls the joint from his lips pushing it between mine. “hold that for me petal.”

i take the joint willingly and take a hit while harry reconnects his lips with my core. i let out a groan as harry sucks my clit between his lips just as he did with the joint.

my body is racked with pleasure as harry hungrily sucks on my bundle of nerves. my hand holds his curls tightly as he eats me like a starved man.

“fuck harry!” i gasp as harry pushes his middle finger into my tight hole. he continues lapping at my clit while pumping his finger into me. the ring resting at the bottom of his finger left a cool sensation run through my body.

“how are you so bloody wet?” he moans against my core while adding a second finger to the mix. my pussy clenches against him greedily as the sensations filled my heat.

harry moves his fingers faster while wrapping his lips around my clit once more. my hips buck up against him searching for the last bit of stimulation needed before i could let go.

“fuck m’gonna cum harry!” i gasp as he speeds up.

“that’s it pretty girl. let go for me, i wanna taste your sweet mess.” he smirks up at me and adds a third finger. this pushes me over the edge, my body consumed with pleasure. harry helps me ride out my orgasm by lapping at my core gently.

he crawls up my body and hovers over me. “i need to feel you baby. is that okay?” he whispers as he presses kisses to my neck.

i nod and wrap my legs around his hips, pressing my core to the front of his sweats. “please harry.”

harry groans and pushes his bulge against me for some relief. “okay petal. gonna fuck you.” he quickly tugs his sweatpants down and kisses my neck. “ready baby?”

i nod eagerly watching him. he sighs and carefully pushes past my tight entrance. my body eagerly welcomes him as i hold onto harrys shoulders tightly for support.

“oh fuck harry!” i groan as he pushes in all the way. he’s much thicker and longer than i thought he would be. my walls tighten against him tightly as he pushes to the hilt.

“so tight and wet for me.” he sighs and pulls back so it’s just the tip left in. harry moves his hand from my wait to my stomach so it’s resting just below my belly button.

as he pushes back into my cunt his large palm presses down on my stomach. at this angle i’m able to feel all of the veins and ridges decorating his cock. a loud whine slips past my lips as harry continues fucking into me.

he quickly brings a hand to hold over my mouth while the other continues to press down on my stomach. “shh i love hearing your sweet moans baby, but we can’t let my parents here.”

he picks up the pace, and the only sounds heard are the obscene squelching coming from where harry is fucking into me. he changes his angle a little bit and my body instantly floods with pleasure as i gasp.

“there it is.” he smirks and continues pounding into me at that angle. the tip of his cock perfectly hitting my spot as i moan into his hand.

harry moved his hand away from my mouth and brings it down to play with my abused clit. he groans as i clench around him and he picks up the pace.

“so- fucking- tight” he groans and pushes his face into my neck to muffle his moans. his hips continue to snap up into my mine while his fingers move quickly against my bundle of nerves.

i’m so overstimulated from the orgasm before this, so it doesn’t take long for my second to build up. “harry!” i whine as his hips move against mine furiously.

“yeah? gonna cum again for me? that’s good baby, m’gonna cum for you.” he moans against my neck and keeps his quick pace up.

my walls clench around his thick cock tightly as my body finally releases. i bite down onto harry’s shoulder gently to muffle my moans. harry groans out and thrusts a few more times sloppily before letting his release paint my walls.

we both ride out our orgasms slowly for a couple minutes. before harry pulls away shakily and speaks. “we’re doing that again”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2 months have past since harry and i first got together. it’s an understatement to say we enjoy each others company. as y/bsf/n said, we’re “fucking like bunnies”

if we weren’t at harry’s house, i was sneaking harry in through my window. luckily, harry’s parents were very chill and always let me come over. i’d really grown to like his mom, sister, and dad. my parents however, had NO knowledge of harry. if they did, i’d be dead.

harry and i are currently cuddled up in my bed at 1am. i always had to wait until my mom and dad are asleep before letting harry in through my window.

so, here we are now, wrapped up in each other whispering about dumb things.

“ugh anyways i hate her bitchass.” im currently complaining to harry about a girl in our class that’s being an ass to me.

“me too.” harry whispers back. his arms wrapped around my waist so im pulled against him. his tight embrace comforts me like nothing else. i can almost forget all the shit i endure at school when i’m with him.

“you don’t even know her.” i giggle as harry presses kisses to my jaw.

“doesn’t matter. i hate anyone who fucks with my girl.”

i roll my eyes and smile at harry’s cheesy comments. he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. i cuddle into his chest as he starts talking about other things.

“i’m so obsessed with you baby.” he whispers against my neck making goosebumps travel down my spine.

“i’m obsessed with you too.” i grin and kiss a sweet kiss to harry’s cheek. in all honesty it is much more than that. i can feel it, im very quickly falling in love with harry.

“good, because you’re mine now.” he whispers and kisses my neck.

it was WAY too soon to tell harry i loved him. i mean for fucks sakes, i’ve only known him for a few months. he is just one of the few teenage boys that has ever been truly kind to me.

harry and i continue talking about mindless things. both of us are too wrapped up in each other to realize how late it is.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

my door is burst open as light pours into the room. i immediately sit up and panic fills my body. my dad and mom stand there looking furious as the see harry sitting there next to me.

“i- uh” i don’t even know what to say in this situation. my parents are NOT easy going people. this is quite possibly, the worst case scenario.

“who the fuck is he?” my mom yells as he sees harry sitting up. my dad is completely dead silent which is even scarier to me.

“i-im sorry- this is harry.” i say quietly.

“harry? oh so you’re bringing random guys into your room?” my mom yells loudly.

“no mom! this isn’t a random guy! this is harry, my boyfriend.” i quickly stand up and stand between my parents and harry. i give harry a look saying ‘don’t talk’

“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” she looks absolutely furious screaming her head off at me. my dad is completely silent and just glaring at me and harry.

“i’m sorry okay? we’ve been together for two months and we really like each other.” my eyes are begging my mom to stop yelling in front of harry.

instead, my dad steps in. “how could you bring a boy into your room? let alone be sleeping in the same bed as him!”

“i’m so sorry. i just really like him and wanted to spend time with him!” harry is quietly watching, not interfering with our argument.

“NO! you cannot see this boy anymore! get him out of my house!” my dad yells and points at harry.

“w-what? daddy please no!” i beg him.

“no! you went behind our backs and brought a boy in our house!”

“that’s because i knew you wouldn’t let me see him! please don’t do this!”

“yeah you’re damn right i wouldn’t let you see him. i don’t want my daughter getting knocked up at 18! you’re not even out of high school yet!”

my eyes prick with tears as i desperately try to defend harry. without thinking, the words slip out.

“but daddy i love him!”

everyone freezes. i feel guilt and embarrassment flood my body as the words spill from my lips. my moms mouth drops as she looks between harry and i. my dads angry face dissapears as he looks at me in disbelief. harry is sitting there with a small smile on his face.

“you what?” my dad looks at me with utter disbelief.

“i- i-,” i hesitate and glance at harry. he looks overjoyed at my words despite the situation. “i love him…”

“you love this kid? why? you’re a teenager y/n! you don’t know shit about love!” my dad says firmly.

fuck it

“yes i do dad! i know that harry makes me 10x happier than anyone else on the planet! i feel so completely happy when we’re together! that’s why i brought him over tonight. i was having a shitty day at school and needed to feel happy for once.”

i let out all my emotions to my parents telling them how much i love harry. “you can’t make me stay away from him! i love him!”

my parents look shocked at everything i say to them. they turn to each other and whisper quietly. i stand there unsure as they talk. harry remains silent as he stares at me with a small smile.

“okay y/n… maybe we’re a bit too strict with you” my mom says quietly. “you’re 18 you can have a boyfriend.”

“r-really?” this was coming from the same woman that wouldn’t even let me have a boys number in my phone until i was 16.

“yes. you deserve to be happy. we’re just looking out for you honey. we don’t want you to make a mistake and end up pregnant at 18.”

i nod and look at them with eyes full of gratefulness. “so i can have harry over to the house now?”

my dad sighs and rubs his forehead before nodding. “just no sex under my roof, okay? i don’t want a grandchild yet.” he glares at harry.

harry nods and finally speaks up. “of course sir. i care for y/n a lot. she’s an amazing person and i plan on taking care of her.”

he looks at my mom and then back to me and harry. “fine. but no more sneaking through the window, got it?” he looks at me sternly.

“yeah of course!” i grin and hug my dad tightly. “thank you.”

“okay y/n… walk him out for the night. we’ll continue this conversation later.”

i nod and pull away. my parents exit the room and head towards their bedroom. i turn back to harry and smile.

harry smiles back and gives me a peck on the forehead.

“i love you too petal.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

hope you loved this! i definitely plan on writing more for this story.

(i was a lil high when i wrote this so ignore the bad parts hehe)

- xoxo

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 5 months

Text

Your older brother Suguru always brought his idiotic best friend from the basketball team around after school.

He would always get on your nerves. Not only was he loud and annoying, but he was also stupidly attractive. Whenever Satoru was around, you knew that you would not be getting any work done at home.

He somehow knew what effect he had on you. He would wink or blow you kisses when he saw you around the house, but always behind Suguru’s back. If Suguru knew that Satoru was flirting with his younger sister, he would lose his mind.

Unfortunately for you, procrastination decided to be a real pain and you had a lengthy essay that was due tomorrow morning.

It was time to fully lock in. The blinds were drawn, your phone was hidden from arms reach and your noise cancelling headphones were in. You were ready for battle.

You could barely hear the knock on your door. You turned around, saying “come in!”

Your older brother peeked his head through the door. “Hey sis. Just letting you know that-“

You nodded, brushing him off. He always gave you a heads up when Satoru was visiting. Satoru was always hanging out with Suguru in his room, almost every day of the week.

It was a common occurance now, so you didn’t bat an eye when Suguru notified you of someone coming over.

For the next eight hours you were in full focus. Your noise cancelling headphones were expensive, but boy were they a good investment. You couldn’t hear Satoru’s pitchy voice, or his raucous laughter.

It was now nearly midnight, and you were starving. You made your way to the kitchen, noise cancelling headphones playing music from your phone, when you sensed a pair of eyes staring at you from the living room.

Rather, multiple pairs of eyes.

You failed to notice that Suguru had invited his entire basketball team over today, instead of just Satoru.

You startled and dropped a glass cup of water, the entire thing breaking in two in what felt like the loudest possible way.

You were suddenly conscious of the comfortable form fitting shorts that you had outgrown years ago, and the tank top that dipped a little bit too low for comfort that you were wearing. It was even worse now that you were blushing beet red and bending over to scoop the glass up.

Where was your brother when you needed him? He was nowhere to be seen!

“Don’t do that.” Satoru now stood crouching in front of you, his broad shoulders covering you from his teamates veiw. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He swept the shattered glass into a dustpan and brush. After he was done, he gently held your wrists and inspected your hands. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut yourself.” His blue eyes pierced yours. Suddenly his gaze dipped downwards, onto what you were wearing. You felt the colour return to your cheeks immediately. “I-I’m fine.” You snatched your arms out of his grasp. You stood up immediately and he did too, casually trying to cover you up.

“Suguru never told me that his little sister was hot.” Naoya, the captain of the basketball team commented. “If I knew that I’d have hosted more get togethers here.” The rest of the basketball team snickered, and white hot rage turned Satoru’s blue eyes into a stormy grey. “Shut the f*ck up Naoya.” His voice was lethally low, the complete opposite of his usual pitchy keen.

Naoya whistled. “Sorry. I didn’t know she was taken.”

Satoru glared in silence.

“I-Is she actually your girlfriend?” Naoya bursted into laughter. Condescending, rude laughter that sounded like forks scratching against plates. “So what if she is?” All the anger had dissipated from Satoru’s face. There was now a cool mask of indifference with a hint of playfulness.

“Seriously? The school playboy Satoru Gojo is dating her?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” He challenged.

You stood there, face whipping back and forth between Satoru and Naoya. “Hey Satoru!”

Your voice sounded unnaturally stiff. “Why don’t we continue watching The Office in my room? We still haven’t finished off the episode we were on!” Your voice cracked at the word ‘still’, and it looked like Satoru was fighting tremendously hard to keep himself from laughing.

“Sure thing sweetie.”

“Okay why the f*ck am i only now hearing from Naoya, f*cking Naoya that you’re dating my sister?”

Suguru was angry.

Murderously, terrifyingly angry.

*planning on making this a fake dating kinda thing, part 2 coming...*

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #fake dating #brothers best friend #love

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass.

New York City is expensive.

College is expensive.

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city.

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces.

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks.

First it was the dishes.

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks.

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major.

It had nothing on the men.

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm.

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men.

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate).

But really, you’re not in the position to complain.

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least.

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign.

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.”

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.”

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way.

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.”

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised.

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless.

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat.

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring.

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here.

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.”

Tara’s tense against you.

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?”

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh.

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.”

And then it’s your turn to stare.

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones.

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes.

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated.

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour.

The conversation is over.

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly, it’s the only thing you can think about.

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later.

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn.

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered.

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food.

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard.

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?”

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.”

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm.

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.”

You furrow your brow.

“You think?”

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?”

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish.

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.”

Liv shoots him a look.

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.”

Chad’s eyes widen.

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!”

Liv gives you a look.

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.”

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits.

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself.

You’re starting to see it.

Quinn liked her conquests.

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara?

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend.

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play.

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests.

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn.

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago.

But it’s different now.

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.”

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear.

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“Babe?” Tara prompts.

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true.

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder.

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms.

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point.

“And you hate gore movies.”

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie.

Tara furrows her brow.

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?”

You bite your lip.

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her.

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist.

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?”

Tara frowns.

“No weirder than usual.”

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.”

Tara shoots you a look.

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.”

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.”

It placates you for only a moment.

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being.

It’s just…

Quinn is pretty. So pretty.

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else?

And then the dread is back.

“It’s just… Liv said-“

Tara groans.

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.”

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed.

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips.

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.”

You do know that.

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom.

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to.

It doesn’t work.

Because of course, why would it work?

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend.

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described.

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.”

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way.

You fold your arms, unhappily.

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.”

Tara draws back, clearing her throat.

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.”

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe.

You know better.

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse.

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent.

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.”

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara.

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully.

“Sure.”

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started.

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored.

You’d been wrong.

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more.

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end.

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst.

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her.

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her.

And those sometimes become all you can think about.

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship.

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do.

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead.

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches.

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket.

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos.

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy.

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl.

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.”

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers.

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant.

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you.

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat.

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?”

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy.

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder.

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening.

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning.

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend.

It has to stop.

The solution?

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice.

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol.

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best.

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it.

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly.

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth.

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues.

It makes you stew.

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment.

But you resist.

Let her think she’s winning.

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet.

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory.

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction.

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?”

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand.

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes.

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep.

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.”

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed.

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it.

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates.

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner.

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused.

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop.

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.”

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.”

Quinn stares a moment.

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.”

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat.

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.”

Tara peers over at you, a little confused.

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it.

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders.

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers.

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.”

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering.

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips.

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy.

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.”

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing.

Bless her.

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend.

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.”

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation.

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes.

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.”

Tara nods.

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?”

Tara tilts her head.

“No.”

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left.

Made sure you’d seen it.

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep.

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly.

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.”

Tara frowns.

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed.

Then, she pouts.

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.”

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns.

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.”

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate.

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.”

Tara bites her lip.

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face.

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?”

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later.

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight.

You frown as Tara enters the room.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.”

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist.

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.”

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?”

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.”

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss.

“I love you. Only you.”

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn.

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together.

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim.

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her.

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.”

You sigh, unhappily.

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.”

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you.

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.”

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.”

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.”

And so you do.

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure.

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door.

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?”

You smile and kiss her.

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.”

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.”

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly.

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?”

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.”

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter.

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.”

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife.

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again.

Quinn looks over, catching your eye.

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her.

And then, she smiles.

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.”

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait.

And you fall for it.

Hook, line and sinker.

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red.

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?”

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking.

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition.

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair.

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you.

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-”

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?”

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!”

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances.

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her.

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might.

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?”

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor.

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.”

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.”

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.”

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Quinn blinks at her.

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.”

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it.

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again.

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.”

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing, her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her.

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens.

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.”

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her.

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?”

Quinn nods, solemnly.

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.”

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-”

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo.

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.”

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features.

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.”

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing.

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.”

“Baby-” Tara starts.

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.”

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss.

She’s trying to settle you down.

It works.

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.”

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“

Tara shushes you with another kiss.

Then she draws back, her voice soft.

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.”

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.”

Sam might mind.

But it’s really the least of your worries.

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest.

Tara squeezes your shoulders.

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.”

She eyes you, warily.

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.”

You frown.

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.”

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone.

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight.

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout.

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up.

You just want her gone.

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump.

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open.

And then you hear it.

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities.

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring.

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick.

You know that grunt.

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion.

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it.

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door.

But what you see isn’t what you expect.

You blink.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?”

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out.

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real.

But it’s very real.

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does.

The sound of your voice is her escape.

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble.

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?”

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.”

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks.

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Quinn’s breathing heavily.

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two.

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.”

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next.

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.”

Quinn doesn’t move.

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.”

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you.

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse.

She shoots you an angry glare.

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.”

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut.

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her.

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.”

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.”

She’s quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.”

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers.

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.”

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…”

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering.

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.”

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest.

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.”

“Oh.” You say with a frown.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.”

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.”

Tara hums. She leans in close against you.

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.”

Tara wrinkles her nose.

You laugh.

Lean down to kiss her, deep.

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think.

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

#ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #quinn bailey #mine #fanfic #all hers #jenna ortega x reader

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xxoxobree · 1 year

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I ❤️ My Boyfriend

Miles G x Fem!Reader

Summary: You Give Miles a Haul of your new buys.

WARNINGS: None.

A/n: DONT STEAL MY FICS‼️ No Repost , If you “recreate it” don’t make it too obvious please be original be you!!

You walked into your room, exhausted from carrying all your heavy bags. You let out a sigh and dropped them onto the floor breaking into a huge smile. You had just returned from a much-needed shopping spree. You carefully picked up each bag, one by one, and emptied their contents onto your bed.

You held up a pink graphic baby tee. "Ohhh, this one is definitely my favorite buy! Miles would love this. He thinks he's a fashionista." You said laughing picking up your phone to call him. As he answered, he set up his phone so that you could see him while he played the game.

"Wassup ma?"

"Miles, you need to pause the game,"

"Babe, we've been over this a million times. I can't... gahhhhh!!!" Miles said, frustrated as he slammed his hands on the table.

You couldn't help but smirk at his gamer rage. "You better not break Mrs. Morales' furniture," you teased.

Miles rested his game controller down and took off his headphones, spinning toward the camera. "Wassup, mama?"

You paused for a moment, admiring your boyfriend and how good he looked in his black compression tee, gold chain, and grey sweat shorts.

"Why are you looking like that, mama?" Miles asked, catching your lingering gaze.

You gave him a playful smirk. "Nothing, but I called you to show you what I got from the mall," you squealed.

Miles smiled as he picked up his phone,for a better look. "Let's see what you got,". You held up the pink baby tee, beaming with excitement. "I got this, isn't she adorable, babe?" You smiled your dimples on display (I have dimples 🥰).

"That's cute, princesa. What you wanna wear it with?" Contemplating your options, you turned around, grabbing a white mini skirt and a pair of light brown cargos. Holding them up for his opinion, "I was thinking either this or this."

"Gonna try them on for me, ma?" Miles asked biting his lip. You giggled, seeing through his intentions. "You're not slick, but I'll be right back," you said with a smile. Making your way to the connecting bathroom, you put on the pink baby tee along with the white mini skirt, knowing Miles would like this pair the most.

Setting up your phone, you took a step back to ensure that he could see the entire outfit.

"Do you love it?" you asked giving him all your angles.

"Baby, you look gorgeous ," Miles said, taking screenshots.

"You taking screenshots?" you asked him.

"How could I not, babe you giving me butterflies and shit.” He said grinning.

"I've got something even better," you said, walking quickly to your bed to pull out a black tee.

"This actually is my favorite piece," you said, holding up the tee that had "I love my boyfriend" across it with his photo.

Miles let out a laugh. "You're wearing that every day."

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imgae-insertshockedgasps-16 · 6 months

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okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)

Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.

He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.

Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.

Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.

"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"

SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.

"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"

And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!

-----------------------------------------

Clark has no idea what's happening.

He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.

Not unusual, right?

Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!

Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?

Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.

This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!

Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!

Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-

A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??

What in the world-

-----------------------------------------

"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"

Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.

"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"

"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"

Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."

And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.

"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"

#that's it i'm done #fair warning- i am not a superman expert and the characterization is prolly wrong #but uh yeah #brain worms #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp #dc #dc comics #superman #danny fenton #he's Just Some Guy #that's how he sees himself #and how the people who know him see him #like yeah he's a little odd #but so are most people

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clairdelunelove · 8 months

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heart on the court

basketballplayer!itadori yuuji x reader

genre: fluff! (basketball drabble!)

warnings: slight cursing, slightly suggestive?, mentions of injury (not graphic tho!)

synopsis: yuuji's the best on the court. athletic, reliable, and great sportsmanship. unfortunately for you, though, is that he's from the rival school. but suddenly he's spotting you in the crowd and you're patching up his injury. so of course he's getting your number.

a.n. noticed I missed writing about fics surrounding school so I went back to my roots lol. I stumbled across a pic of yuuji in a basketball jersey and felt COMPELLED to write this. so enjoy :3

literally drooling at the thought of how itadori yuuji, who's on the rival school's basketball team, manages to get your number after the game.

animated chatter buzzed throughout mobs of students at the promise of this evening’s basketball game. it was supposed to be a friendly match— doubling as a scrimmage so the players had some practice before the strict season games. a time where coaches put in their substitutes to introduce them into the team's dynamic. try out a couple skills, run some drills, and build up morale. but you, along with everyone else, knew what this game ensued when your rival school’s name was posted on the campus’ bulletin board. it wasn’t just your school that was hypervigilant either. word quickly spread that the other school’s roster had their infamous ace on it. known to sway the game’s outcome just by his presence on the court. you had missed the last game, caught up in a club meeting and the fear of missing out tugged at you to attend this time. the game was an event that the entire student population eagerly looked forward to. banners were made, glittery pieces that had some sort of motivational quote plastered on it, confetti was cut, and balloons were blown up to decorate the school’s gymnasium. and, of course, girls’ crafted signs to cheer their boyfriends on during the match. the game was a huge, notable affair that deviated from the school's mundane schedule– and you wouldn’t miss it even if you had to scurry right after film class ended.

basketballplayer!yuuji who audibly gasps as he steps into your school’s gymnasium. the building is enormous– clean– and students are already occupying a majority of the bleachers. he’s clad in his team’s warm-up gear; branded sports jacket and baggy sweatpants that are ideal for practicing. the male would’ve blended in well if it wasn’t for the sleek headphones around his neck and how he expresses an impressed, “woah.” hand reaching up to push down the hood over his head, he shakes off the remnants of rain that cling onto him and does his best to rub the bottom of his sodden shoes on the entrance’s mat. he expected it to rain. packed an umbrella in the red gym bag slung over his shoulder but couldn’t be bothered to take it out. his teammates weren’t so prepared, however. raising their bags over their heads to stay dry and patting themselves off from the heavy sprinkle. just a small disadvantage from not being the school’s home team. unfortunate that the weather was gloomy for such an anticipated game. though, it doesn’t dim the team’s enthusiasm and the gymnasium’s atmosphere. just encourages the crowd’s ovation when the rival team saunters into the place. “they’re all fired up,” one of yuuji’s teammates remarked with a pleased smirk.

basketballplayer!yuuji who warms-up with heavy music blasting through his headphones and a basketball in his hand. dropped his bag off near the sidelines before rummaging for the sweatband he usually wears. it’s a plain black fabric that helps keep his unruly hair away from his face. but really, the girls’ can’t help but notice how the sweatband emphasizes his dark undercut when he pushes it through his blushy hair. attractive in a way that captivates not only his school’s following but also the home team’s admirers. compensation, as some would call it, for watching the game. yet, yuuji never views it that way. puts himself in the zone while the rest of the team idle around; they’re likely found chatting with friends or winking at the girls on the bleachers. he strides on the court, politely waves to his school’s traveling fans before habitually dribbling the ball beside him. practices a couple layups and free throws to get the blood pumping. isn’t a huge fanatic of the attention that he gains from how precise his movements are but he’s aware that’s the price of being the team’s ace.

basketballplayer!yuuji who, from the corner of his eye, spots you scrambling into the building. you freeze immediately. eyes widening at the sheer amount of people that crowded around the doors; most were dawdling while waiting for friends in order to grab a seat together. you pressed the stack of film books closer to your chest to endure the feverish pushing that came with the thrill of the evening game. wasn’t anything worth panicking about. just a couple elbows and shoulder nudging until a figure parts the loud crowd. “need some help?” unbeknownst to you, the rival school’s ace separated the sea of students to reach you and provide some assistance. well-mannered, polite, or considerate ought to be his middle name. you blink, speechless because you’re face to face with the attractive male. even has a pretty voice to match. yuuji allows you to blatantly stare– forever the patient person he is while grinning abashedly. “‘gonna take that as a yes,” he chuckles and raises his voice so you can hear him over the noise, “follow me!” ends up walking you to the slot of empty space where his duffel bag resides. his teammates toss a sleazy whistle over their shoulder which compels yuuji to mutter, “shut up, man,” before ushering you along. he’s still in a good mood by default. while accompanying him, you’re unable to refrain yourself from gawking. he’s all sharp features that melt into boyish charm when he interacts with you. “good movie, by the way,” he points to the book in your hand. “oh!” you glance at the film’s cover before smiling, “right? I finished it over the weekend and really liked it.” upon noticing that you’re chatting with him, he promptly slides off his headphones so he can hear you clearer. it’s a seemingly insignificant gesture but it warms your heart nonetheless. having genuine courtesy to others was utterly irresistible to you. the guys at your school didn’t hold a candle to him. begs you to wonder; who was he?

basketballplayer!yuuji who waits until you’re situated before hollering out a quick, “later!” dribbles back on court to join the team’s practice drills before the match and only shoots you a grin when he notices you’re staring. doesn’t bank on gaining anything from you– he’s authentically chivalrous. you, on the other hand, are absolutely intrigued by the blushy haired male from the rival school. wide, glimmering eyes on him as he’s zeroed in on passing the ball. the crowd’s clamor is only heightened when the warning whistle shrieks to indicate that– finally– it’s game time. yuuji shuffles over to pack his headphones and sweatband. ends up slicking his spiky hair behind his ears and earns a couple squeals of delight. he sheds off his jacket and sweatpants next; so he’s clad in the team’s official dark uniform. his sleeveless jersey cuts into a deep v-neck to unveil pretty collarbones that have you squinting to admire. even his baggy shorts can’t conceal the strength of his physique. as expected, he’s all lean muscle that overshadows anyone else on the court. yuuji shoots a good-natured thumbs up to your school’s players, places his hands on his thighs, and does a couple stagnant stretches before tip off. and gosh– can he play. remarkably, he’s everywhere on the court. rebounding shots, gaining points from layups, and taking the responsibility of every free throw. it’s impressive because he’s deemed as average height for a basketball player. yet, he’s the power forward that teams fantasize about. zips up and down the court without a hint of fatigue. the audience is glued to his every move too, becoming uncontrolled whenever he has possession of the ball. whistles and cheers whenever he manages his infamous dunk. hangs off the rim with a single hand while grinning gleefully at the crowd. bright eyes blazing with the kind of adrenaline a person only experiences from being unrivaled in their expertise. you’re even reveling in the ambience. cheering wholeheartedly for him (a player that’s not from your school) but sheepishly dialing back your enthusiasm when yuuji glances in your direction.

basketballplayer!yuuji who’s unstoppable on the court. so unstoppable, in fact, that the only time he’s subbed out is when he’s on the receiving end of an offensive foul. catches a solid body-slam while he’s turned around so he scrapes his knee as an attempt to steady himself. the audience buzzes with distress when yuuji slowly picks himself back up. a teammate claps him on the back as he limps to the sideline bench at the next opportunity. he doesn’t seem like he’s in pain, though. cheerily waves and says, “hey!” when he recognizes you in the crowd. fortunately, the seat he found for you was perfect because now he’s situated a bleacher row below you. the coach hands him a damp towel which he uses to apply pressure on his bleeding knee. pressing the rag down to control the minor injury, he whirls around to ask you, “enjoying the game?” a gleam in his stare conveys a hope of praise that you’ll offer him. “I am!” you cup your mouth with a hand so you’re audible over the crowd, “you’re great!” lifting an arm to wipe off the sweat on his forehead, he smiles broadly, “am I?” and the tone in his voice reveals genuine curiosity. he’s not attempting to coax more compliments out of you, no, yuuji’s real intent is to keep conversing with you. you’re nodding right away, head bobbing so vigorously that he ends up chuckling. “how’s your knee? that was a nasty fall.” you point to where the rag has splotches of crimson on it. “fine,” he smoothly replies with a casual shrug to ease the worry written on your face, “I’ve dealt with worse.” then, you reach into your backpack to hand him a bandaid while sheepishly avoiding his gaze, “I have this if you want to use it.” the patch is a soft-hued color and has an animated character cheering on it. yuuji decides it’s cute– like you. his cheeks are set aflame as his slender fingers work to press it over his scraped knee. pats it for good measure to demonstrate that it’s better. you made it better. “thanks!” ill-timed, his coach advises him that he’ll be back on the court soon so he extends his legs to stretch the muscles. he’s guided to the substitution area but before he hops back on the court, he turns to call out to you, “will I see you after the game?”

basketballplayer!yuuji who’s reduced to clumsy pauses and splutters when he finds you waiting for him after his game. it was a formidable match but his flawless performance just gave his team the upper-hand. the crowd was satisfied, though. buzzing with compliments for yuuji and his athleticism– the usual revelation that causes his supporters to steadily grow. slinging a towel over his shoulder, he grabs his duffel bag, takes out his umbrella, and tosses in a couple praising remarks to his teammates before ambling over to the gymnasium’s exit. he’s in a grand mood; the crowd was wild, his teammates/coach were pleased with him, and the endorphins consuming him after the spectacular game were pumping through him. yet, the rival school’s star player literally stumbles on his feet when he finds you patiently waiting for him. you’re all soft, delicate features that are only enhanced in the building’s fluorescence. a beauty that he’d be damned to remember if he saw you passing through his school’s hallways. although, his favorite part of you was the sparkling smile on your glossy lips when you caught a glimpse of him. blindly, he makes his way over to you. and boy is he a stuttering mess. red-faced and sweaty, yuuji manages to get your name and immediately mentions that it matches you. “it’s pretty,” he clarifies when you tilt your head in skepticism. overall, the two of you are interrupted multiple times (with students asking for pictures or chatting post-game with him) and he’s hastily apologizing for the inconvenience each time. dark brows shooting up, he’s the epitome of panic as his gaze darts to the line of people waiting for his regard. “sorry!” yuuji sheepishly bows his head while explaining, “it’s usually not, uh, like this after games–” and his hand reaches out to guide you to a spot that’s less crowded but you’re giggling at how ruffled he is about the whole ordeal. “they seem to like you a lot,” you bring up as his hand gently closes over your wrist after leading you to a place outside of the building. it's sprinkling, droplets catching on your lashes and he hastily opens his umbrella for you. slowly, you’re drawn closer to him and the warmth he exudes. your fingertips move to graze over his calloused knuckles, a spellbound guise in your gaze. he chokes on his breath. “how about you?” he inquires, unexpectedly meek and tender now that the two of you are alone, “I mean, how do you feel about me?” and it’s safe to say that when you slip your number into his hand, the adoration is mutual.

#jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji fluff #itadori x y/n #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk x reader

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avidhorrormoviefan · 1 year

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all he did was whimper and limp around this entire movie i had this movie in full blast in my headphones

he thanks you when you make him cum. like hardcore thank you. “augh fuck thank you momma… s’fuckin’good fuck…”

he’s a service top frrrr

he makes sure that you come before he does

he whimpers in your ear when he’s fucking you but on some events when he’s a bit more of a top top, he grunts and moans in your ear

when you ride him he puts his hands on your hips rather harshly and helps you bounce on him, the way you make him feel when you’re around him makes him fucking feral

when he’s giving you head he tongue fucks you every time because he loves the way you taste

he overstimulates youuu

oh and when he’s overstimulated it’s over for him. he’s a whimpering and whining mess under you. his mind wants to pull away but his body doesn’t bc he just loves it too much :((

when you give him head he wants you to give him gagging crying throat clenching kinda head

when you wear a new bra and panties set that he bought you, he makes sure that you keep it on when he’s fucking you, so whenever you wear it you always think about him and how good you feel when you’re with him

he steals your underwear. idkidk

i will for sure do a part two (maybe with another of his characters??) bc rory has me in a chokehold right now

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #dan #danny #intruders #service top #charlie walker #charlie walker smut #jack goes home #clyde electrick children #welcome to willits #possom #this man has me in a chokehold #he’s making me question my sexuality

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gojos-whatnow · 8 months

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『Make Your Dreams Come True』⇝♡

⭒Alt. title: normal call gone booty :000

⭒Synopsis: Gojo's flirting with you over the phone, as usual, when you suddenly ask him to come over...

⭒Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, subby satoru ml, reader and Gojo are both switchy tho, afab!reader, fingering, dick riding, not clearly stated that reader/gojo are virgins but you can imagine it, reader/gojo are best friends at the start, lots of the word "baby", implied fortnite (I'm probably missing stuff but oh well)

⭒Setting: Juju high Satoru but aged up ykyk cuz his sunglasses are so mmf

⭒Notes: first post but I'm considering making this a series HELP

You and Satoru happened to be playing games together, as usual when you weren't on missions or doing schoolwork. You adjusted your headphones slightly, feeling the growing head discomfort from wearing them too long. It was worth it for Satoru, however, since he never ceased to make you laugh.

"Why would you run so far off, dude, you're gonna get sniped," you sighed, seeing how far away he was on the map.

"Pfft, I'll be fine, worry about yourself, you're one-tap."

"Maybe if my teammate decided to come help me I wouldn't be."

"You're jus' sayin' that cause you miss me."

This was the usual back-and-forth until one of you got ambushed or something. The normal flirting from Satoru while you shrugged it off with a chuckle. Though, you'd been playing for hours now, and tiredness was creeping into your skull, knocking down the filters of brain and speech one by one.

"Yeah, miss you a lot," you murmured, meaning to sound teasing. It came out all too genuine. "Wish you would come save me, Satoru."

You listened to the clacking of his keyboard, faint over your headphones. Satoru's silence made it all too easy to hear the lull in his playing, the quick pause and pickup. You looked at the map, knowing exactly what it meant. Sure enough, his ping was high-tailing it towards yours. You chuckled to yourself, feeling warmth in your chest. What a hero.

"Something funny?"

"No, no, you're just down bad for me is all," you spoke slyly.

"As if I try to hide it."

"Y'know, I reread our chats when I want an ego boost."

"You serious?" He snickered.

"Yeah. All the times you've called me gorgeous and told me I had a nice ass..."

"Wait, waitwaitwait-"

You heard the clacking of his keyboard stop entirely. Pausing, you realized and looked at your phone, tapping into your messenger. His typing bubble was up, as expected. You continued walking towards him in the game as you waited for his message to come up.

"Ok, there."

You turned to your phone and deadpanned.

S͟a͟t͟o͟r͟u͟u͟u͟u͟u͟ ͟🥺͟️͟🥺͟️͟:͟

Beautiful tits

And rack

You shook your head and hastily typed back 'nice cock' before picking up where you were. You heard his phone go off, a few seconds go by, then his seductive voice spoke to you again.

"Wanna see it, baby?"

"Bet."

He breathed out a laugh and you continued playing, occasionally speaking your mind a bit too much from grogginess. The sleep deprivation had started to show in your voice, though.

"You tired or something? Need a sleebge?"

"Yuh, I'm eepy," you yawned, rubbing one of your eyes. "But let's just finish this match."

"We're gonna lose if you're nodding off while you're getting cracked. Might as well quit while we're ahead."

"Ugh, that phrase. You sound like, fuckin', me." You cringed at your own phrasing, letting out another yawn.

"I wish I was fuckin' you."

After the moment it took your mind to register the words, you felt a response roll off of your tongue faster than you knew it was even there.

"Then come over."

You heard the usual chuckle that you and Satoru would share after something like that snake through your headphones. When you didn't join in, there was a pause.

"Are you... serious?"

A moment. A single moment was all it took in your tired mind to commit to this idea of yours.

"Did it sound like a joke, Satoru?"

You could hear his speechlessness, you could tell he was floundering like a fish right now, his keyboard, his screen, the whole match left completely forgotten. Once you'd had enough of the silence, you spoke to him again.

"I'm absolutely for real right now. Door's unlocked...

Lemme make your dreams come true."

"Ffffffuck."

You watched on your screen as a popup appeared. "THE_honored1 has disconnected." With a smile, you left the call, pulled off your headphones to let your ears breathe. You had just finished standing and stretching when there was a soft knock on your door. So uncharacteristic of Satoru.

You quickly checked your clothes and hair, just to make sure you didn't look like an absolute slob who had been in their gaming chair all day. Oh well, Satoru probably wasn't too far off from that himself.

You opened the door, only to find your friend was completely quiet, barely able to meet your eyes, though it seemed like he couldn't look away from them either. With a friendly smile, you stepped out of the way and motioned for him to enter. He stepped past you, hands in his pockets. You closed and locked the door behind him, then turned around just in time to feel an arm wrap around the small of your back and a hand gently grab your chin.

"I need to know..." He paused, taking a breath. He was basically panting, hot breath ghosting over you with each exhale. "I need to know right now... if you really meant it."

"Every word."

"You still do?"

"Of course."

At that, the hand under your chin pulled your face to his and his lips crashed into yours. You could feel him trembling as your arms wrapped over his shoulders, and you could feel his heart racing, beating right out of every artery in his body.

He felt sparks, fireworks, the whole nine yards, as he kissed you. His whole body seemed to stall like an old car as soon as his lips touched yours. His brain turned to mush- no, melted. Reduced to a boiling soup in his skull. Because finally, finally he was kissing you.

'Girl of my dreams' wasn't how he would describe you, but he'd dreamed of you. He'd literally seen you in his slumbering mind, and wished he could do more than just the occasional flirting and borderline sexting. Satoru had been fantasizing about you for years, it felt like, ever since you'd reached that casual first-name basis. He wanted to know what it would really be like. If those fantasies could be recreated.

And when you kissed back, waking him from the sloshing pool his mind had become, he tugged you close, bodies flush. He felt your breasts squish against his chest, one of your hands cupping the side of his head just under his ear, and God did it make him lightheaded as all the blood in his slovenly brain ran south. He could feel his voice in the back of his throat, threatening to let out a moan with every exhale. He struggled to hold it back, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you by acting like an animal in heat just from your kiss and your touch.

You couldn't say you weren't feeling anything yourself, though. You were sure that, without your bra, Satoru easily could've felt how your nipples were hardening, and your breath shook as one of his hands left your chin and sensually trailed down your side and up under your shirt. But, of course, these feelings weren't nearly as turbulent as Gojo's excitement and arousal, which were only hightened when your tongue slipped between his lips.

You softly leaned into him, tapping his leg with your foot to signal for him to move back. As you continued kissing him, you led him back to your bed, shoving him down to sit on the edge of it and finally letting your lips leave his. As you caught your breath, you crawled up onto him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you with eyes that screamed how bad he wanted you, panting heavily but still wanting more. Then, he chuckled.

"This isn't at all how I expected."

"Hmn?" You beckoned for him to explain, draping your arms over his shoulders and carding one hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

"It's all so backwards from how I pictured it. I always thought I would be the one to invite you over, run the show... be the one in charge, but fuck, I'm such a loser," he sighed out, trailing his hands over your waist and stomach under your shirt. To help him, you pulled it over your head and off, giving him better access and a nicer view.

"A loser? What, for having a girl on top of you?" You purred, trailing kisses along his cheek and jaw. "Please, there's at least a billion guys who'd sell their soul for that."

His voice and breathing trembled as he tilted his head to the side for you. "No, I mean... how I barely had the balls to even come over... Let alone ask you to."

"Trust me, baby, you can do anything if you're tired enough. Or if you're Satoru Gojo," you whispered, nibbling lightly on his ear. A shudder ran down his spine at that, and he felt like he could cum right then and there.

"Fuck... Keep talking like that and I won't last for shit."

"Yeah? And how do you think I feel when I'm touching myself to your messages, hmn?"

He let out a soft gasp as you ground your hips against his. His hands ran to your hips, gripping them and guiding them as they rolled.

"Saying I could last three minutes would be a generous estimate."

"God, you do that too?" He asked, voice coming out whiney. You let out a seductive chuckle that burned through his loins.

"Of course I do. Ego boost, remember?"

"You like when I call you gorgeous?" He sighed, feeling you throb against his crotch.

"Don't dislike it," you admitted. "You're pretty damn gorgeous yourself, though. Pretty boy Satoru."

He felt his rock solid cock twitch in his pants at your words, once again. He was doomed. His molten mind knew that, even as he helped you take his shirt off. And then your hands trailed down his chest and stomach, making him even dizzier.

"Don't think... I can take much more of this..." He admitted as your soft lips kissed down his shoulder. He could feel you smile against his skin.

"Hehe, awwwe, you close Satoru?" You giggled and gave a few harsh rolls of your hips, sending hot pleasure coursing through his lower half. He gasped, hands gripping you tightly.

"Fuck, fuck, Y/n, don't do that."

"Okay, baby, I think you've waited long a enough. Just how long, I wonder?"

It felt like his whole life. An eternity he'd waited for this, for the chance to watch you unbuckle his belt and tug his pants down and off of him, followed by you doing the same with your leggings. You crawled back on top of him, hovering over his thighs and holding his shoulder with one hand to steady yourself. Meanwhile, your other hand found its way into his boxers, and you could hear his breath hitch as your fingers wrapped around his length and slowly started stroking up and down.

"Y-you don't have to do that," he breathed out, a hand gripping your wrist. "Trust me, I'm as hard as I could get."

"Well, I should hope so. You're bigger than even I expected," you chuckled, stilling your hand and pulling it away.

He sighed softly and looked up at you through his pretty lashes with a smug look. "And what about you? Think you could take it? Think you're even ready to?"

You felt yourself clench on nothing at his words, feeling how intense his eyes were on yours. With a smile, you grabbed his hand and placed it at the waistband of your panties.

"Why don't you find out?"

His smile left his face, mouth opening as he took a breath. His eyes left yours to look at where his hand was, and his mind stalled only a moment before his fingers dipped under the fabric of your underwear and softly tugged them down.

He left them about halfway down your thighs and reached up to cup your sex. He drug a finger through your folds, feeling how wet you were and suddenly wanting nothing more than to see how much pleasure he could bring you.

He continued pulling his finger forward until he found your clit, stopping to rub gentle circles against it. He heard a soft noise fall from your lips and watched your hips just barely twitch. God, did he want to turn you into a mess.

He looked up at you and your heated expression. "Can I...?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," you spoke, sounding the least composed he'd heard you all night. Carefully, he slipped one of his fingers between your folds, stopping at a shallow depth and curling his finger to tease you.

"You want it all the way in?" He asked with a smirk on his face and a playful lilt to his voice. You bit your lip, lidding your eyes at him, and wrapped your hand back around his cock.

You watched his whole teasing nature melt away as his cock twitched in your hand, begging for friction. Silently surrendering, he pressed his finger deeper until your cunt reached the base of his finger. He felt around your insides, watching you squirm slightly.

"'S that feel alright?"

"Yeah, you're all good."

At that, he curled his finger forward finding your g spot and feeling your walls clench around him. He added another finger and prodded against that spot. Your hips rolled against his hand as a soft moan was pulled from your lungs. The moment he heard your voice make such a heavenly sound, he was hooked. He couldn't help but move his fingers faster, try to reach deeper, and softly rub his thumb against your clit.

"Satoru," you called, somewhere between a moan and a fond chuckle. You reached a hand up to cover your mouth, only for it to be stolen away and replaced by a greedy pair of lips, drinking in every soft moan you gave. It didn't take long from there to feel a coil tightening in your abdomen, and as you pulled away from Satoru's lips for air, you leaned into him, pressing your chest to his and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Y-you really want- hah- want me to cum now?" You asked making sure he was actually alright with that fact and not just lost without a thought.

"Fuck yes, baby. And I'll make it happen again when I'm inside you, mark my fuckin' words."

Hearing this, you felt your orgasm crash into you, making you stuff your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your sob. After all, two of your walls were shared with Shoko and Utahime, and you'd prefer that neither knew what was happening (particularly Utahime).

Once your orgasm had ended and you were catching your breath, you felt Satoru pull his fingers from his cunt, letting the cool air of the room touch your slick and make it embarrassingly obvious how wet you were. You pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, finding he had two fingers in his mouth and a dreamy look in his eyes.

You tasted absolutely delicious. If he wasn't so painfully hard and losing patience, he'd have started eating you out right then and there, not stopping until you were barely lucid. God, how gorgeous you would look like that. But it'd have to wait for next time, and he'd make sure there was a next time.

"Need a break?" He asked softly, though it would pain him to hear you say yes.

"No, no, not after you've been waiting so nicely," you murmured, kissing across Satoru's face. As you did so, you took a hand off his shoulder and used it to tug your underwear all the way off. Once he realized what you were doing, he shifted around to tug his boxers down his own legs, leaving him completely bare under you. There was only one thing keeping you from being just the same.

"You gonna keep this on the whole time?" He asked slyly as he tugged at your bra strap.

"You want it off?"

"Wanna watch 'em bounce." He turned his eyes to yours, pausing your kissing. "You wanna keep it on?"

"Well, it's..." suddenly you looked the most flustered he'd seen you. Ever. Even when he was knuckles deep in your cunt, you'd kept some sort of stoic persona. But now, suddenly, even through the dark he could tell your face was red. "It's embarrassing..."

"Why's that?" He cooed, pulling you close so he could kiss along your shoulder.

"Whaddya mean, 'why-"

"I mean, it shouldn't be embarrassing around me. I worship you. It hasn't changed yet, why now?"

You thought through his words for a second, then sighed and grabbed both of his wrists, pulling them to your shoulder blades.

"...go ahead."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's like you said. Why not?"

He gave you a soft look and pressed an even softer kiss to your lips as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it and carefully pulled it off of you, leaving you completely bare and with an urge to cover yourself as you felt your nipples harden even further with the cool air.

"'S okay, yeah?" He asked reassuringly, dropping his hands to your waist. When you nodded, he leaned forward and trailed kisses along your chest and both of your mounds. Your breath shook as you watched him and how his eyes would occasionally meet yours, making sure you knew how much he loved you and your body. After a bit more kissing, and some hickey-leving and groping, his lips lifted to meet yours, and his hands returned to his waist.

"You ready yet?" You sighed out, pulling your mouth from his.

"I've been ready for an hour, baby," he laughed, his enthusiasm returning.

"You sure?" You cooed playfully.

With a frustrated look on his face, you felt Satoru tug your hips down, pressing his cock against your folds. You bit your lip, feeling yourself throb and softly grind against him. He loosened his grip and you took that moment to lift yourself up enough for you to grab his length and line it up with your entrance.

You both exchanged a glance before he helped you ease down onto his cock, blissful sighs leaving both your throats. You felt Satoru whisper out his thousandth curse of the night and bury his face into the crook of your neck, letting out shaky whimpers as you continued to ease down.

"D-don't worry about- hah- t-taking it all..." he reassured, no longer helping you down - letting you go at your own pace.

"I can fit it," you murmur, continuing your careful decent down onto him.

"God, you're so hot inside. F-feels like I'm melting... All cause of me..."

You meant to chuckle, but it came out as more of a near-silent whimper as you sat down fully, feeling the tip of his cock kiss depths inside you that had never been reached before.

"You really did fit it all," he sighed out, an obvious smile on his face even though you couldn't see it. "You're a fucking angel."

He ran his tongue over several of the hickies he'd left along your neck and shoulder, all easy to hide, as per your request. You rested where you were, trying to get used to his length being the full way inside you.

"You alright?" He leaned back slightly, pulling your chin so you face him. "You're so quiet. You short-circuitting?"

You wiggled your hips and smiled at him, watching his lashes twitch as his eyes threatened to roll back at just that. "I could ask you the same thing," you purred between soft breaths. He leaned forward and rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a way that was hug-like. One of his hands reached down under one of your thighs and attempted to lift you up, but you stayed put, clenching your walls around him and hearing him let out a shaky breath.

"Can't wait, baby," he whimpered softly. "Can't wait. Please move."

Indulging his sweet, pathetic pleads, you lifted yourself up slowly and sat back down, the feeling of his tip ramming into a certain spot inside you making you clamp down on him once more. His arms tightened around you. "Shit," he let out a sobbing whisper.

"You're so shy right now, Satoru," you cooed, trying embarrassingly hard to keep your voice from cracking. "What happened to all the talk you give me over our calls?" With that, you slid yourself back up and down. The resulting sound that graced your ears was glorious. Right next to your ear, you heard the great Satoru Gojo squeak. So vulnerable.

You picked up these movements at a slow and steady pace, not wanting to overwhelm Satoru, but make him feel amazing. And amazing he felt, dizzy and with his soup-mind more than numb. His soft grunts told you that much.

Everytime his tip prodded against a sweet spot inside you, you wanted to slam yourself down onto him and feel it again, but you knew Satoru wouldn't last if you went too rough. Right now, his arms around your waist pulling you up and down told you what pace he wanted as he steadily pulled you faster. You slipped a hand up his neck and into his hair, tugging softly to hear more of his voice. As the speed mixed with pleasure started making it impossible to keep quiet, you pressed your mouth to the top of his head.

It was clear he knew he was hitting a good spot, as he kept angling his hips to reach that spot with every bounce. One of his hands reached down to rub at your clit and, in your mind, there was the thought that you might actually cum first.

"Fuuuck, I'm close," he whined out, and you could feel his hips twitching up in an attempt to meet your bounces. Between your moans, you whimpered out a "me too."

He started tugging your hips up and down faster, and his hips struggled to meet yours to ram into the very back of your cunt. You yelped the first time his tip slammed into that sweet spot, and hid your face in the side of his head, recalling your wall-mates.

It took barely 30 seconds for your orgasm to wash over you. At the last moment, Satoru grabbed your face and shoved his tongue down your throat, lapping up your orgasmic mewls and keeping you somewhat quiet. Your cunt squeezed his cock tight, and one more thrust did it for him, sending his eyes up and back into his skull as he saw white. Without a thought of hesitation, he pumped your insides full of his cum, orgasming harder than he'd ever felt in his life, and it only felt better at the thought of making you all his.

His lips still stuck to yours as you both attempted to catch your breath. He pulled away for a moment to look into your eyes, only to lean back in and give you a real kiss, making you whimper.

"I fucking love you, Y/n," he sighed out as he pulled away, looking back into your eyes with a gaze so genuine, it made you freeze. "This... this is a terrible way to ask, probably top 5 worst ways, but... will you be my girlfriend?"

You sighed out a laugh and pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him with a completely different intention now. "How could I say no to you, honey? Heh, and you called yourself a loser," you shook your head. "Would a loser be in this situation?"

He rolled his eyes at you and pecked you on the lips. You gave him a soft smile, but yelped as you felt him swing you around, tossing your back down onto the bed. Your mind caught up just in time to see him on top of you with a dopey smile on his face.

"So, Sweetheart, you wanna go again?"

BONUS: The Morning After

After spending the morning making sure that your legs still worked, your hickies were covered, and that no one was around to see Satoru leave your room, you met with your classmates as if it were any normal morning. It seemed like one too, as you greeted everyone, including Satoru. He'd waited for you to text him that everyone had already left, so he was the last one out.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," you waved.

"If I had known you would be so late, I would've came and woken you up myself," Geto sighed. You quietly thanked God that Geto didn't attempt to do that.

"Hey you guys," Shoko waved. You felt nervousness in your chest at how amused she seemed.

"Did you have fun last night?"

Your stomach dropped, and you slowly turned to Shoko, finding a smug look on her face. Geto look confused, but knew something was up when he saw the terrified stares of you and Satoru.

"What happened?"

"Nothing important," Satoru waved his hand dismissively with a sigh, but his face was red too.

"I'll tell ya later, " Shoko leaned over and whispered to Geto.

"What're you idiots making such a big deal about?" Utahime asked, looking at you and Satoru's expressions.

"Hey, Utahime, you didn't happen to hear any weird noises last night, didya?" Shoko asked, leaning around you to look at her.

"I did, actually. Around 11, I think. Why?"

"Nothing, just making sure I wasn't hallucinating or something," she brushed it off, continuing to smirk at you and Satoru. At that Utahime left with a suspicious look.

Geto suddenly put the pieces together, eyes widening. "Wait. You two..."

Shoko nodded with a knowing 'mhm'.

With a look over his shoulder to make sure that Utahime was really gone and Mei Mei wasn't looking, Satoru reached over and tugged your collar to the side, displaying a blue hickey. You slapped his hand away, looking at him with a beat red face.

"Satoru!" You gasped.

"Oh, we're dating, by the way." He spoke coolly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Took you long enough," Geto rolled his eyes.

"I told you, man, I had a plan this whole time."

"Last I checked, that wasn't at all the plan."

"Well, I had to make some... situational changes."

You, Geto, and Shoko all deadpanned at his bullshittery.

"Okay, look, the point is that it worked out."

"I guess I can confirm that," you sighed.

"Is he any good?" Shoko asked, nonchalantly. "Eh, why bother asking? I could hear the answer to that last night."

"Shut up!!"

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cringe--is--dead · 2 months

Text

𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣 𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕤 + 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤

Incl. Ren Kaji, Tasuku Tsubakino, Toma Hiragi, + Hajime Umemiya

Apologies some are longer than others!

ℝ𝔼ℕ 𝕂𝔸𝕁𝕀

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ:

This man spends the entire day before your date staring in the mirror at himself and screaming into a pillow because; hello? He asked you on a date? And you agreed?

He is definitely the kind of guy who, when panicked, ghosts people. Not maliciously, but solely because when he's anxious he just avoids the situation in its entirety. You can thank Hiragi he doesn't do that this time.

Doesn't wear his headphones on your date, but does keep them around his neck, and if you're quiet enough you can faintly hear music playing from them. He keeps them close enough to focus on if he gets too anxious or too upset, but not on so he can hear you when you talk.

He keeps the suckers though; but if you had ever mentioned a favorite flavor of yours you'd be surprised to notice that these ones he's eating happen to be your favorite flavor.

You find yourself at an arcade with him; nothing too jam-packed because dealing with large crowds would not be fun, but it's not so empty that it feels awkward.

He definitely overthought it before you two arrived there, and is overthinking it while you two are there.

But he pays for all the tokens, buys you both sodas or waters or whatever you want, plays whatever games you want to or suggest, and it takes the third game for you to tell him to stop going easy on you and give you an actual challenge.

He ends up kicking your ass at almost every game you two played, but you win 2/5 rounds of air hockey, so you count that as a win.

Combines all your points/tickets at the end and sends you away so he can choose a prize for you; he ends up with fewer tickets than he thought so he ends up with a small, plushie of a whale. He's embarrassed, but it's soft and has the cutest beady eyes.

The date lasts for a few hours, and he walks you home, awkwardly brushing his pinky against yours before you take the initiative and take his hand.

Drops you off at your place with a kiss on the cheek

You text him a selfie of you in your PJs later that night, holding your whale plushie and he makes it his wallpaper almost immediately,

𝕋𝔸𝕊𝕌𝕂𝕌 𝕋𝕊𝕌𝔹𝔸𝕂𝕀ℕ𝕆

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ:

Is the definition of looking cool on the outside, looking cool on the inside.

Is more excited than anything, no room for nerves, you on the other hand?

Who wouldn't be nervous? Have you seen Tsubaki?

He helps the pair of you plan your outfits days before, matching colors and patterns, hairstyles, and accessories.

The moment you two are out and about together you already look like a power couple; and with the confidence he holds your hand all your nerves disappear.

He takes it slow and simple; taking you for coffee and sweets, sitting outside on their cute patio to talk for literal hours.

He's the type of guy who wants you to try a sip of his drink and a bite of his food and is holding out his fork with a little bit of pastry on the end for you to eat. When he puts his fork down he tells you you have some icing on your face and wipes it off with his thumb, and then he puts his thumb in his mouth, it's such a small, and simple thing but your face is red can you tell who my favorite is?

You two go through a handful of drinks and sweets while sitting there, and for each new order he insists on going up and ordering for you, paying, and taking cute pictures of your drinks together whenever they're served really cute

Once you two are done at the cafe, and Tsubaki has plenty of new selfies with you and candids of you, you two go to a clothing shop that he had found, something small and locally owned, and I can imagine you two doing fashion shows for each other

My friends and I used to do this; but you two pick out outfits for each other, trying to make outfits that fit each others style or outfits you think the other would look amazing in

You take turns trying them on and showing them off; and no matter what Tsubaki is wearing he looks so absolutely amazing you forget how to breath a few times

You go with the notion that you’re window shopping and just trying clothes on for fun, but little do you know he buys himself your favorite outfit he wore and you your favorite outfit your wore

You try and argue against this but he just shuts you up with a kiss; hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up softly, looking at you so soft and sweet before he’s leaning down to press his lips against yours, so feather light and sweet before he pulls back

You’re stunned into silence, face red and lips tinged the same shade as his lipstick

He tells you you both can wear the outfits on your next date, and takes your hand in his, continuing to a pastry shop that’s nearby

𝕋𝕆𝕄𝔸 ℍ𝕀ℝ𝔸𝔾𝕀

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ:

He is the definition of looking cool on the outside, is terrified on the inside.

He had an entire box of gas-kun10 in the twelve hours before your date, and it takes everything out of him not to bring out a box on your date.

A gentleman; brings you flowers and picks you up early enough so you can put them in a vase of water before you leave.

I agree with a lot of head-canons that say he seems more traditional? In the gentleman, chivalry sense; and I agree

He holds his arm out for you to hold when you leave; walking closer to the street so you’re further away from any cars (regardless of how few) and any bikes going by

He definitely follows the movie and dinner thing; having genuinely, subtly found a movie coming out that you had wanted to see and taking you to a mid-afternoon showing

He buys your favorite drink and snacks

I imagine he also makes sure to bring his jacket (and hope you forgets yours) so in case the theatre is chilly he can lend you his jacket

It is chilly, and he does lend you his jacket

He also puts his arm around your shoulders while watching the movie; and everything he does is so cliche but dear god is your heart fluttering

He takes you to a nice restaurant afterwards, and you two have a quiet little table, talking about the movie, about the other Furin boys, about your school life and friends

He remembers your friends names and family members names and asks about how they are and just makes you feel so listened to

When he drops you off at home he literally asks if he can kiss you

Brushes your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jawline, resting at your chin as he tilts your head upwards

He kisses you softly and slowly, no expectations behind the kiss; he lets you lead the kiss, lets you end the kiss when you want

It was a simple kiss yet the man leaves you winded

Calls you later that night to talk and unwind, planning another date for the following week

ℍ𝔸𝕁𝕀𝕄𝔼 𝕌𝕄𝔼𝕄𝕀𝕐𝔸

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ:

I think he barges into Pothos to panic to Kotoha because he's never been on a date?

She helps as much as she can before kicking him out.

He debates a lot of ideas, literally has a list on his phone of ideas and pros and cons for each place, and he's read them out to literally everyone.

Poor Sakura almost had an aneurysm, Sugishita nodded along to every idea thrown his way, and Hiragi swore he had a stomach ulcer.

He picks you up in the early afternoon, and takes you to a local café; not Pothos (Kotoha threatened him to go somewhere else where his friends don't hang out); and you two snack on sweets, coffee, and tea before you go to the next place.

I imagine that this man still has to include some of his own interests, so he had found an open garden type park nearby— someplace with lots of flowers in bloom, butterflies and honey bees flying all around

It’s a beautiful place really; and he pays for a special bouquet for you, wrapped with a cute ribbon

You carry it around, and it ends up being the only thing he allows you to carry

He’s carrying your jacket, your purse, any bags from things you buy (he pays for, regardless of how much you argue)

The garden has little areas to sit and relax, and he’s offering to buy you any drinks or snacks, and turns the garden date into a mini picnic as well

He’s definitely the kind of guy to sit there and watch you, leaning on his hand with a dopey look on his face while you talk about anything— and the look on his face makes you feel so vulnerable and warm you find yourself stuttering and stammering without him even saying a word

When the sun starts setting he walks you home, and he’s the kind of guy who has an arm wrapped around your shoulders as you two walk, the tips of his fingers brushing against your bicep in an almost tickling way

He’s so sweet and happy when he drops you off at home, walking inside to put your stuff down because he still won’t let you carry any of your stuff, and he even starts putting any leftover food away without you asking

Like Hiragi, he asks if he can kiss you, and as soft as he was on the date, his kiss is closer to smoldering

It’s heavy, it’s fast, and it’s over so quick that your brain is reeling

He grins at you like he didn’t just physically steal your breath away, telling you goodnight, kissing your forehead before leaving

He texts you later that night, cute little plant pictures and promises for another date

𝔸/ℕ: I am very well aware that Tsubaki is in love with Umemiya (he and me both) BUT I am also way too in love and invested in the Great King that is Tsubakino so he's included. Also, this is my first go at writing for Windbreaker, so if anything is OOC or bad... I'm so sorry. I’ll hopefully get better! >.<

#ren kaji #ren kaji x reader #tasuku tsubakino #tasuku tsubakino x reader #toma hiragi #toma hiragi x reader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #windbreaker #wind breaker #windbreaker satoru nii #wind breaker satoru nii #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader

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