#lecture. ew | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderenightmare · 9 months ago

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♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you.

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon…

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is.

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you.

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss.

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.”

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!”

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.”

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt.

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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jeeseth · 25 days ago

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# NEVER MINE — daniela avanzini x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ to make your ex jealous, you strike a deal with your long-time-not-so rival, daniela avanzini — fake date until prom. the plan is to post couple pics, flirt in public, and pretend you’re head-over-heels. easy right? except, she’s really good at pretending. a little too good.

˖⋆࿐໋ ( fakebf!dani x f!rᥱᥲdᥱr ) ── .✦ you might wanna tune in < boyfriend by ariana.g > ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⟡﹒ tᥲgs ﹐ ﹅ ⟢ fluff? non-idol au, college au, fake dating au, enemies to lovers au, fakeboyfriend!daniela, mention of the other katseye members, mention of yunjin from lesserafim, mention of tattoos, jealousy?, kissing, LOTS of pda, lowkey suggestive if you squint your eyes, lowercase intended, mens dni, grammatical errors .

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! a/n - i’m clearly hooked on writing about katseye. THESE GIRLS ARE TAKING OVER MY LIFE HELLO?? but i’m not complaining obviously. ever since the sophia story blew up i HAD to write for another members and i hoped yall enjoy this! i use grammar checkers. english nawt my first language can you blame me? anyway enjoy :P

your ex is glowing. and you absolutely hates it.

like, unfairly glowing — instagram filter level, post-breakup confidence, ‘just got a new girlfriend’ type of glowing. she’s tagged in a post that makes your heart skip and your stomach turn. a soft photo. coffee cups on a windowsill, your ex’s hand intertwined with someone else’s.

"soft mornings with her 🤍"

ew. you blink at the screen. it’s not that you want her back. well not really. it’s just that she moved on so fast like you didn’t even leave a dent.

you’re halfway through doom-scrolling her profile when someone passes by your library table and nudges your charger off the edge. you lunge for it and absolutely miss it — and it clatters to the floor near a familiar pair of worn converse. oh boy. your stomach drops.

daniela avanzini.

she picks up the charger, holds it between two fingers like it might actually bite her, and places it silently back on the table without even glancing at you.

"um thanks," you mutter, barely making eye contact with daniela.

she hums and walks away. excuse me but what? she just hums? literally no words. no acknowledgment. no you’re welcome or anything. huh. classic.

daniela avanzini is everything you can’t stand. effortlessly cool, quiet. the kind of girl who rarely post on social media, doesn’t raise her hand in lectures, doesn’t care if professors mispronounce her name. and somehow, everyone still knows who she is. it’s like she’s carved out this unreachable space on campus where people talk about her like a myth.

you’ve only had a few classes with her, but in your head and you’d never say this out loud but, she’s your rival.

you always come in second. every time you get a test back, her name is right above yours. every time you answer a question in class, her bored "actually…" cuts through the room two minutes later and leaves yours in the dust. and the worst part? you’re pretty convinced that she doesn’t even know your name.

later that day, your ex passes you in the quad. she doesn’t look at you, but her new girlfriend does — with the same kind of polite pity people reserve for wet dogs and forgotten leftovers. yucks.

you turn around a little too quickly, almost trip over a freaking skateboard, and catch yourself on a bench. your roommate’s (lara) words from last night come screaming back.

"girl honestly? you need to make her jealous. like, get a hot girlfriend. someone unexpected. someone she’ll definitely hate seeing you with."

you laughed at that time but now, you’re still stinging from your ex’s perfect instagram life, you glance across the quad and see her again. daniela.

sitting under a tree, one headphone in, legs stretched out like she owns the earth beneath her. reading a book you know she won’t even annotate because she remembers everything. the only person your ex could never figure out and the only person you could never beat.

you don’t even realize it but you’re walking until you’re standing right in front of her, your heart pounding loudly like you’re about to make the worst decision of your life.

she looks up slowly and blinks once, doesn’t even take out her headphone.

"i need a favour." you say breathlessly. are you nervous? in front of your rival? daniela doesn’t answer so you press on.

"i told my ex I’m dating someone, and i kind of said it was you." you manage to say in one single breath. you pray to god that daniela won’t hear how fast your heart is beating from nervousness.

there’s a pause. you expect her to laugh, or roll her eyes, or walk away like this conversation never happened. but she just stares at you like a weirdo.

"okay." she mutters and it definitely caught you by surprise.

"wait- what?" you blinks in pure confusion and surprise.

"i’ll fake date you, only if you stop looking at me like you’re about to fight me in a parking lot." she shrugs and stands up from the grass. still doesn’t look directly into your eyes.

"why would you agree to this?" you asks, softer than intended.

she finally meets your eyes — and there’s the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth which makes you annoyed for some reasons.

"i’m bored."

and just like that, she walks away again, as if she didn’t just casually agree to change the entire trajectory of your college career.

you spend the next morning second-guessing every outfit in your closet and constantly telling yourself it’s not for her. it’s for the plan. the fake plan. the plan where you look convincingly in love so your ex gets jealous and maybe, for once, loses.

and definitely not because daniela avanzini is going to be walking next to you. definitely not because she looked you up and down yesterday and said "okay" like it didn’t mean anything. then suddenly your phone buzzes.

daniela

be outside in 10. you don’t need to dress up.

you stare at the message for a solid minute. you have so many questions. like how did she even get your number? but let’s put that aside because you are dressed up.

when you step outside, she’s already leaning against the bike rack, hoodie up, hands in her jacket pockets, looking like she hasn’t thought about anything once in her entire life. her eyes flick up when she sees you. then down. then back up. is she checking you out?

"you said i didn’t need to dress up," you say, trying to play it cool which lowkey doesn’t work.

"you didn’t. but you look good." daniela shrugs nonchalantly. you pretend that doesn’t make your chest do something weird.

"so how are we doing this?" you ask, sighing afterwards. "pda? couple walk? hand-holding?"

daniela looks at your hand for a beat. then, without a word, reaches over and laces her fingers through yours.

"we’ll walk," she says.

"that’s it?" you asks, dumbfounded.

"for now." she says and you swear you can see her smirking from the corner of your eyes.

the quad is too loud, too crowded. everyone’s outside. music from someone’s bluetooth speaker is bouncing off the walls, and you swear there’s a subtle shift in the air when you and daniela pass through. people notice and obviously they will whisper. a girl who you recognise from your chem lab literally nudges her friend and points.

"are they staring?" you whisper to daniela.

"mhm," daniela hums. like it’s nothing. like this is totally normal for her.

"okay. why are you so calm?"

"i’m always calm."

"i know and it’s annoying." you huffs before rolling your eyes mentally. you expect her to ignore you — like she usually does but she lets out a tiny laugh, low and quick.

"you’re funny when you’re panicking." daniela says quietly.

"i’m not panicking."

and then she squeezes your hand just slightly. not enough for anyone else to notice. just enough for you to feel it.

you’re passing the café when you suddenly hear it — your ex’s laugh. sharp. too loud. too familiar. you freeze up. and daniela notices. she follows your gaze. your ex is inside, tucked into a booth with her new girlfriend, all soft smiles and leaning in close. your throat tightens ever so slightly.

daniela shifts beside you. doesn’t say anything. just gently tugs your hand and keeps walking, guiding you away like it’s instinct.

"you wanna go in?" she asks quietly.

"no." you reply almost instantly.

"then keep your head up. don’t let her see you looking at her like she matters." daniela mutters softly but firmly. her words hit harder than you expect.

you stop outside your lecture hall a few minutes early. the crowd thins. people stop watching. technically, the act is over. but daniela doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you can let go now," you say as if you’re reminding her.

"i know." but she still doesn’t.

you glance over at daniela. she’s staring straight ahead, unreadable as always.

"that wasn’t horrible," you mumbles softly.

"high praise," she says, a tiny smirk ghosting her mouth.

then, daniela said something that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. she said it like it’s nothing.

"if you want to make her more jealous, i can kiss you next time."

"w-what?" you stutter, almost chokes upon hearing daniela’s words.

"i won’t do it unless you’re okay with it," daniela says, calm as ever. "but you looked like you were gonna disappear back there."

"that’s… actually really considerate." you said shakily. she looks at you then. really looks. and for the first time since this whole thing started, you can’t read her.

"see you later." she says, finally letting go of your hands. and she walks away without another word.

you stay there a moment too long, hand still warm, head still spinning from everything. this was your idea. this was supposed to be fake. so why does it feel like she’s playing the role a little too well?

it’s one of those rare days when the weather is nice and the sun hits the campus lawn just right — the kind of afternoon where students sprawl across the grass, half-studying, half-napping, pretending they’re not drowning in deadlines.

you’re at your usual spot as always — a bench tucked under a tree near the south building. it’s your unofficial recess place. far enough from the cafeteria noise, but close enough to eavesdrop on the chaos if you feel like it. you’ve got headphones in, open tabs on your laptop, snack in one hand and phone in the other. and you’re definitely not expecting some extra company. which is why, when someone drops their bag next to yours and sits down without saying anything, your heart jumps into your throat.

you yank one earbud out and glance to your side. daniela with her hood up, sleeves too long, bottle of water in her hand, thumb resting lightly on the cap. just sitting beside you. like this is totally normal.

"um hi???" you says, eloquent as ever.

"hi." daniela replies, tone so chill it sounds like she’s been here the whole time.

you stare at her for a second, waiting for the punchline. she doesn’t look at you. just leans back against the bench like it belongs to her. like you belong to her.

"do you usually sit here?" she asks after a moment, eyes still looking forward. "you’re always in this spot. i noticed."

"you noticed?" you blink upon hearing daniela’s words.

"yeah. you always snack during break. same brand of chips too." daniela says as she glances at the bag of chips in your hands.

you also look down at the bag in your hand. it’s the same one you eat basically every day. you didn’t think anyone paid attention. even you barely pay attention.

"i mean—yeah, i guess? i like this bench."

daniela hums and then opens her water and takes a slow sip. you want to ask her why she’s here, why she’s choosing to sit next to you now, with people literally walking by and noticing but you’re too scared that if you do, she’ll leave. so you just keep existing beside her.

twenty minutes pass. you’re still pretending to scroll through your notes, but you haven’t read a single sentence. and daniela? daniela is leaned back, legs stretched out, water bottle resting between her knees, like she’s never been more relaxed in her life.

a few students walk past and you hear one of them whisper, "wait, are they dating? like for real?" and your chest tightens when you heard that.

"people are talking." you mumble softly, not even dare looking up.

"let them." daniela replies, calm as anything.

"aren’t you worried they’ll think it’s real?" you asks and look over at daniela. and then she finally looks at you. lile really really looks.

"isn’t that the point?" daniela says nonchalantly. you open your mouth, then close it.

and then, just to completely ruin your brain she reaches over, takes a chip from your bag, pops it in her mouth, and smiles.

"these are good."

daniela stays until the bell rings and doesn’t move when it buzzes. doesn’t rush. just stands up slowly, throws her bag over her shoulder, and glances down at you.

"same spot tomorrow?" she asks causing you blink up at her in genuine surprise.

"um yeah sure." you mumbles softly.

she walks off like nothing happened. like this wasn’t weird. like she didn’t just publicly chill beside you for almost half an hour and steal your snacks like you’ve been doing this for weeks. and just before she disappears around the corner, she turns back and says something to you.

"bring extra chips yea?"

you sit there, staring after her, snack bag half-empty, heart half-lost. you’re in big trouble.

you’re not used to people watching you. at least not like this. not the way students glance in your direction when you walk into the quad now. not the way group chats whisper and spiral. not the way yunjin looks at you across the lawn like she just saw a ghost wearing her old hoodie.

daniela’s beside you again today. sitting under your tree like she owns the shade. legs stretched, hoodie sleeves half-covering her hands, thumb lazily scrolling through something on her phone. she doesn’t care that you’re being watched. doesn’t even pretend to. and you kind of like that.

"you’re quiet today." you say, nudging daniela’s knee.

"you’re talkative today." she glances up and smirks faintly at you. you smile despite yourself.

you’re sitting a little closer than yesterday. not on purpose. just gravity, maybe. hehe. the air’s warm. the quad’s buzzing. and you’re halfway through offering her another chip when you hear it. the sound that lowkey annoys you.

her laugh. you know that laugh. you freeze for a second, chip halfway to your mouth. then you glance up. yunjin.

ten feet away. hair tied back, sunglasses pushed up on her head, walking with that girl. her new girl. the one who took your place so fast you barely had time to breathe. and they’re headed toward the quad bench nearest yours. of course.

daniela must sense it. or maybe she just knows your body language too well already. well either way, she shifts closer, leans in slightly but not enough to make a scene, just enough for anyone watching to get the message. and then, she does it.

she reaches up and smooths a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. her fingers are gentle, her face unreadable. but her eyes? oh her eyes flicker just slightly toward where yunjin’s standing. you don’t even have time to process it before you hear footsteps stop.

"wow. so this is real huh?" yunjin says, her voice coated in sugar.

you blink and look up. she’s standing right in front of you and literally smiling tight. daniela doesn’t move. hence she doesn’t even look surprised at all.

"hey, didn’t think you’d move on this fast." yunjin mutters, her eyes dragging over daniela slowly.

"we’ve been talking for a while," daniela finally says, casually but yet dangerous. "just kept it quiet."

and clearly you almost choke from hearing that cause what the hell?

"didn’t think you were her type." yunjin says, eyes narrowing.

"good." daniela replies, still so calm it almost unnerves you. there’s a glint in her eyes—mischievous and unreadable.

"i don’t like being predictable anyway." daniela’s words hang in the air, cool and confident, leaving you unsure whether to be impressed or nervous. maybe both and then total silence.

yunjin’s jaw clenches. just a little. her hand tightens around her smoothie cup. and you really wonder if she’s about to throw it.

"well, good for you." yunjin says, and clearly its all bite now.

"thanks. we’re really happy." daniela says, giving yunjin a small smirk that surely pissed her off.

and then like she’s rehearsed this moment, daniela reaches over and rests her hand lightly on your knee. her thumb tracing lazy circles like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and your entire nervous system shuts down.

yunjin doesn’t say another word. she just turns and walks away, grip on her smoothie so tight you’re surprised it doesn’t explode. and when she’s out of earshot, you turn to daniela.

"okay. what the hell was that?"

"what?" daniela asks, shrugging like she did absolutely nothing afterwards.

"we’ve been talking for a while?’ daniela?!"

"sounded better than ‘we fake started dating yesterday.’" daniela smirks. well barely a smirk.

"you really don’t care if people believe this, huh?" you ask, staring at her, trying to read something. anything on her goddamn face.

daniela just shrugs, the corners of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting back a smirk. she leans back on her hands, glancing up at the sky.

"nah," she says. "but i care that she saw."

your heart skips a beat.

"that was evil."

"you smiled."

"i didn’t."

"you did."

you look away, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the grin forming. daniela is hella evil. but god. she’s too good at this.

you don’t plan to end up in her dorm. let’s say that it just happens. somehow, between daniela walking you halfway to class and you saying something dumb like "my phone’s about to die" and she just offers a casual

"you can charge it at mine."

like it’s nothing. like you are nothing. which, frankly, is a joke — because your heart is doing backflips and she’s acting like you just asked for a pen.

daniela’s room matches her energy: quiet, muted, somehow colder and warmer than you expect. the kind of space that doesn’t ask questions, just exists—still, steady. a hoodie is draped over the back of her chair, worn and faded. a cracked window lets in the soft hues of dusk, the breeze carrying in the scent of evening. a basketball is shoved carelessly under the desk, like she tossed it there without thinking.

you hesitate by the door, unsure if you should step in or stay put. she doesn’t say anything. doesn’t look up. just grabs your phone, plugs it in like it’s the most natural thing in the world, then tosses you a water bottle without missing a beat.

and here you are. you’re on her bed. the laptop rests between you, trail mix scattered in the space where your knees almost touch. there’s music playing—rnb, soft and slow. it hums in the background, setting a rhythm that neither of you really follow. but it fits.

you’re actually supposed to be working on your slides but oh well. your fingers hovering over the keyboard. daniela’s sketching something on a scrap of paper, focused, lines coming to life beneath her hand. she doesn’t explain what it is. doesn’t offer. you don’t ask.

but you keep stealing glances. and she keeps pretending not to notice. until she does. her eyes flick up, catching you mid-stare. you flinch, caught like a guilty secret. she doesn’t. she just raises an eyebrow at you, like really? your gaze drops immediately, heat crawling up your neck. the corner of her mouth twitches just barely but it’s there.

you end up there for hours and obviously you didn’t mean to. but she never tells you to leave. never acts like you’re taking up space. just lets you sit, lets you snack, lets you laugh at her handwriting and kick her ankle under the blanket when she says something sarcastic. and when you finally check your phone, it’s almost midnight. gosh.

"shit. i should go." you mutter as you eyes the time on your phone.

"you can stay."

"i mean, just to crash. if you want. i’ve got an extra hoodie. you look cold."

you don’t answer right away. and maybe that’s the answer in itself. dani gets up and throws you the hoodie. and she doesn’t even look at you while she does it. but when you slip it on, oversized and warm and still smelling like her shampoo, she says something that caught you off guard.

"looks good on you." daniela says like it’s nothing. but you’re starting to learn that when daniela says something like it’s nothing. it’s definitely something.

it’s ten minutes between lectures. your brain is foggy from note-taking, your fingers are cold from the library air, and your bag is slung too low on one shoulder. you barely hear anything as people file out around you. just chatter and sneaker-squeaks and someone dropping a water bottle that rolls past your feet.

you step into the hallway and as always, daniela’s already there leaning against the wall. arms crossed. earbuds in. one side of her hair tucked back. she’s looking at her phone but you can tell that she’s been waiting for you. and she doesn’t even look surprised when you walk up. just pulls one earbud out, glances up slow.

"hey." it’s so normal. so casual. like it’s a daily routine. maybe it’s becoming one.

"you’re early," you says softly, looking up at daniela.

"and you’re late." daniela says making you grin and bump her shoulder lightly.

"i was gonna say you missed me, but okay." you sighs dramatically causing daniela to snorts.

"i did."

"what?" you blink.

"what." but she’s smiling. just a little and just enough.

you don’t even remember how you ended up here. one minute, you were walking together after your last class and joking about something dumb, bumping shoulders. and the next, you were toeing off your shoes by her door, dropping your bag on her floor like this is routine. like you’ve done it a hundred times before. you haven’t. but it’s starting to feel like you could.

her dorm’s still the same. soft lighting that makes everything feel a little gentler. cracked window letting in the evening air. a half-zipped hoodie hanging from the corner of her bed, swaying slightly whenever you move. but this time, there’s no assignment. no project. no excuse. just you and her and the quiet space in between.

daniela’s in the desk chair, legs stretched out, socked feet crossed at the ankles. her head’s tilted slightly, like she’s listening to the soft music that hums low from her phone speaker—some mellow instrumental that doesn’t ask for attention, just fills the silence. but she keeps looking at you. not in a way that demands anything. just literally watching. like you’re something she’s trying to figure out, or maybe already has. and you keep pretending not to notice.

fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, suddenly very interested in the pattern on her blanket, the chipped nail on your thumb, anything that isn’t the heat rising in your cheeks under her gaze. but she doesn’t stop looking. and you don’t really want her to.

you really try to focus on something, anything. on your phone, but it’s hard when she’s just there. sitting like she owns the room. like the silence bends around her. like she knows you’re flustered and she likes it.

"you’re comfy," daniela says, breaking the silence.

"it’s your bed." you mumbles.

"yeah, but you’re still cute in it."

"excuse me?"

"just saying. you look good when you’re relaxed." dani shrugs, all casual. like she didn’t just lob a grenade into your chest.

"dani stop." you choke on your own breath and toss your phone onto the blanket.

"what?" she leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. eyes too steady. too smug and definitely too much.

"you’re blushing." she pauses.

"is it the ‘cute’ part or the ‘in my bed’ part that’s doing it for you?"

you stare at daniela. then you grab the nearest pillow and launch it right at her face. it hits with a soft whump and she bursts out laughing — the kind that makes her lean back in the chair, eyes squinting, mouth wide with actual joy. and how you wish it didn’t make your heart flip.

"you’re so annoying," you mumble, face hot, covering yourself with the blanket like it’ll undo the last thirty seconds.

"you didn’t deny it, though." she calls out, muffled through the pillow she’s now hugging to her chest. you groan and she just grins in satisfaction.

you’re half-asleep at your usual table. recess is loud and laughter echoing off walls, sneakers pounding pavement but it all feels distant, muffled by the fog in your head. your eyelids are heavy, textbook open in front of you but untouched.

daniela’s next to you. elbow propped on the table, cheek resting against her hand, posture lazy in that way only she can pull off. she’s quiet, letting you trace across the back of her other hand with your black pen. and she hasn’t said a word about it. just watches. barely blinking. her thumb twitches slightly when your finger accidentally brushes the inside of her wrist, but she doesn’t pull away.

you’re not even drawing anything good. just dumb little stars. uneven. shaky. some filled in, some not. you draw one right in the center of her hand. it’s a little crooked. off-balance. but who cares?

"that one’s you." you mumble, not really expecting her to hear.

"tilted?" dani gaze flicks up, one brow barely raised.

"shining." you correct, without looking up and she doesn’t respond but her hand stays still and so do you.

you forget about it. the next day slips by in pieces—notes you barely register, teachers talking like background noise, friends pulling you along through hallways you don’t fully remember walking. everything blurs.

until you’re halfway to your seat. and then you see her. daniela. already there with her hood up and sleeves rolled to her elbows like she always does when she’s tired or pretending she isn’t.

you stop mid-step. because on her hand right where you drew it yesterday is the star. your star. the tilted one. only now, it’s not in pen. it’s in ink. clean, sharp black lines. not smudged, not fading, permanent. your stomach drops.

"wait— you didn’t erase it?" you slide into the seat beside her, still staring.

"couldn’t." daniela shrugs like she doesn’t feel your panic.

"cause got it tattooed." daniela says that calmly and your throat dries.

"you’re joking."

"i’m not."

you blink. you wait for her to laugh, for the punchline but it just never comes.

"why would you—"

"because you drew it and because i didn’t want it to fade." daniela explains to you in a soft tone.

you don’t say anything. you’re so busy trying to process that you almost miss the way her hand finds yours under the table. her thumb brushes your knuckles and her voice drops.

"i like you, y/n." and then suddenly the world goes quiet.

like the air’s holding its breath with you. like everything else—the noise, the nerves, the chaos pauses just long enough to make room for her voice.

"not fake-like. not for the deal. not because it’s fun messing with you."

your heart’s hammering in your chest. your hand is shaking and dani notices so she holds it tighter.

"i like you for real. and i’m kinda hoping you like me back."

your eyes drop to the star on her skin. your star. on her. damn. what even is happening. and then they lift—to soft fabric and steady eyes and that stupid calm voice that’s always said more than it was supposed to.

"you’re actually insane," you whisper, breathless.

"is that a yes?"

you don’t answer her instead you just lean forward and kiss her quick, barely-there, more breath than touch. but it’s everything. and when you pull back, she’s already grinning like an idiot.

"so yes?"

"ugh, yes." you roll your eyes, heart still racing and cheeks burning.

you’re still close maybe a little too close. her hand’s still holding yours, thumb brushing soft over your knuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you kissed her. you literally kissed her. and now she’s just sitting there, grinning like she just won something in life.

"you’re smiling way too much." you mumble, still a little breathless.

"am i?" daniela hums, tilting her head, her eyes flicking to your mouth again.

"you could kiss me again to make me stop."

"oh my god. you’re unbelievable." you mumbles as your face heats up at her words.

"and kissable." she adds helpfully. you throw your head back and groan, hand covering your face. dani’s laugh is low and smug and entirely too pleased with herself.

"daniela."

"what? you literally started it." she blinks innocently.

"you kissed me. on school property. during recess. and now i have expectations." you grab her sleeve and tug it over her face.

"you’re really insane."

"maybe. but you did draw a star on me and now it’s permanent. so i think we’re even."

you’re blushing. hard and you can feel it. she pulls her sleeve down just enough to look at you, voice quieter now softer but still teasing.

"just one more?" you look at her. she’s not pushing. not demanding. just there. waiting patiently.

you sighs as you lean in — not rushed, not dramatic. just a quiet, warm press of lips against hers again. longer this time, a little closer. her hand finds the side of your neck. your other one curls into the fabric of her hoodie. and when you pull back, her eyes flutter open, slow.

"okay," she whispers. "maybe two more."

"you’re such a pervert."

"yeah." daniela grins. "but i’m your pervert now."

you shove her away with a breathless laugh and she grabs your wrist, pulling you right back in.

#daniela avanzini #katseye #katseye x reader #katseye x female reader #daniela avanzini x reader #jeeseth #dew’s 🍈

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