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fandoms-x-reader · 11 months ago

Text

Forget You

Requested By: @deludedprime

Oneshot

Word Count: 10,119

Summary: You are teleported to another universe where you are replaced by another exchange student. Replaced MC! AU The Demon Brothers and Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon Short writings for Luke, Thirteen, Mephisto, and Raphael A/N: Sorry this ran so long! Hope you enjoy!

Life is full of expected occurrences. Things you never dreamt of happening. Moments you never knew you would miss until they happen.

You didn’t expect to come to the Devildom. In fact, if someone had told you that one day you would be ripped from your life and be essentially dragged down to Hell by demons - you would have called them crazy. Either that, or your death was coming up and they knew it.

You didn’t expect to come to love those very same demons - so much so that you couldn’t imagine your life without them.

You didn’t expect to meet an angel that had captured your heart or a surprisingly charming sorcerer. You didn’t expect to meet a reaper or an archangel either.

And - you certainly didn’t expect to lose them - in a way so painful that you couldn’t bear it.

No, you never would have expected that.

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this situation. It was only a few days ago when everything had been right in the world.

You were at a ball held at the Demon’s Lord Castle. It was a ball that Diavolo had been planning for a long time. And it was one that everyone was excited to go to.

You, of course, were accompanied by the seven demon brothers. They stayed by your side the entire night, switching off who got to dance with you. If they were lucky, Solomon and Simeon might sneak in a dance. And if he wasn’t busy, Diavolo would come and ask you to dance. It’s not like the brothers could tell him no.

It was a night full of fun and laughter. It was one of those memories you would miss.

The night started to come to a close and everyone had gathered for a mixer dance. It was a traditional ballroom dance where you start with one partner but end up with a completely different one by the end of it.

You had started the dance with Lucifer and changed partners to the beat as often as the song required. By the end of it, you weren’t sure where any of your friends were. You were on the opposite side of the room.

The song was almost over as you reached your final partner. It was a demon in all black with a somewhat cold expression on his face.

As soon as your hands touched his, you felt a terrible feeling in your stomach. Something wasn’t right here. You tried to pull away, but the demon grasped your hands even tighter to keep you in place.

The song finally ended, but the demon didn’t move, staring into your eyes. You felt incredibly uncomfortable under his gaze, and it didn’t take long for the demon brothers to notice.

The demon was pushed back, his hands dropping yours as Mammon said, “Song’s over.” Mammon was glaring at the demon and you saw the other six of them slowly making their way over to you.

The demon left without a word and a shiver ran down your spine. Weird. “Are ya’ alright?” Mammon asked, turning his attention to you. You nodded your head before replying, “He was just giving me a bad feeling.”

“We should be heading home, the ball is coming to an end,” Lucifer stated and everyone seemed to agree.

But, before anyone could move, Diavolo suddenly stood before everyone declaring he had an announcement to make. You thought it was strange that he chose the end of the night to tell his news, but you didn’t question it. He was the future Demon King and he could do whatever he wanted.

Diavolo proceeded to sing the praise of the success of the current exchange student program and you slightly blushed as you felt a lot of eyes on you. Then, Diavolo stated that because of that success, the elder demons had agreed to allow Diavolo to expand the program this year.

There was going to be a new human exchange student who would be arriving in the Devildom in just the next few days.

Everyone seemed to react differently to the news. You were excited. You would finally have another human to bond with! Nothing against Solomon, it’s just that you weren’t entirely sure if human was the right word to describe what he was.

Diavolo had decided that the new human exchange student would live at Purgatory Hall for their time here since you already occupied the guest room in the House of Lamentation.

The first day the exchange student arrived, the assembly room was bustling with enthusiasm. Normally, the assembly hall was reserved for members of the student council only, but Diavolo wanted everyone to be able to meet the new student.

Barbatos had been the one to teleport them to the Devildom and you felt nostalgic about the scene. It wasn’t too long ago that you were in their position, coming to the Devildom for the first time.

The difference was that you didn’t know anyone or even where you were when you were teleported. You had kindly asked that the new exchange student be told they would be coming to the Devildom.

You wouldn’t take back any of the memories you had from your time in the Devildom. But, you knew how unfair it could be to be torn from your life and thrown into an entirely new one. You believed that the new student would have a better experience if they at least knew what to expect.

So, Barbatos had given them a brief explanation about everyone they would be meeting. Likewise, you were all given a file on them. It was basic information, like where they came from and what their hobbies were. And the files they were given were things like your names and the abilities you each possessed.

And even though you were meeting for the first time, it didn’t feel like the two of you were complete strangers. You got the impression that the others felt the same way as well because as soon as the new student appeared, any anxiety they seemed to have about the situation dissipated.

Barbatos gave a very brief introduction and you wore a welcoming smile. The first thing you noticed was the way everyone seemed to be gawking at the new student. They were definitely attractive - but with the way they were staring, you were sure they would freak them out.

You gently elbowed Lucifer first and he quickly snapped out of his trance. He kicked off the introductions and everyone soon followed suit. You noticed how quickly they got along with the new student. Maybe it was because everyone had already gone through this process or maybe it was because they were just that easy to like. You weren’t sure which was the reason.

It went smoothly at first. The new student was nice enough to you and you did what you could to help them. They adjusted rather smoothly in the Devildom and you were impressed by it. You felt like you had adjusted pretty quickly to the Devildom as well, but not this quick.

Everyone was enamored with the new student. Part of you couldn’t blame them - they were amazing. But, another part of you couldn’t help but start to feel left out.

It started with small things that you thought wouldn’t matter in the long run. You chalked it all up to the excitement of a new person. But, then you started to notice more specific things.

_______________

Lucifer had made plans a long time ago with you to go see an opera. It was an iteration of an opera from the human world and you were excited to go see it with him. You couldn’t wait to see what human elements they kept in and what elements they added in from the Devildom.

Not to mention, you and Lucifer didn’t have a lot of time to spend alone with each other now, so you were excited for your night together.

The excitement didn’t last long though as you came home from RAD and saw Lucifer talking to the new exchange student, offering them a ticket instead. The smile on Lucifer’s face was one of complete joy. “There’s no one else I’d want to go with,” Lucifer told them.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and you quickly removed yourself from the scene without catching their attention. You couldn’t help but wonder if Lucifer ever smiled at you like that. If your presence ever made him that happy.

_______________

You and Mammon went to the casino together almost every weekend. It was like a routine. The first time he convinced you to go, he told you that you were his lucky charm and that he wouldn’t be able to win without you. And, with a nickname like that, how could you refuse?

It wasn’t long before Mammon stopped considering the casino trips as a get-rich-quick scheme and started genuinely enjoying his time with you there. He always made sure to keep you close to him and wore a proud smile whenever he won. And he never missed a date with you to the casino.

So when he was nowhere to be seen, you got a bit worried. You thought maybe he was going to meet you there so you quickly left to find him. But, when you did, you wished you hadn’t looked in the first place.

He was at the casino, his arm around the new exchange student as he rolled the dice. He wore the same proud smile he used to give you as they rolled to the perfect number. Then, he turned to them and pulled them close to him before telling them, “You’re my lucky charm, ya’ know that?”

And just like that, every meaning those words ever held in your heart disappeared. You felt like you should be hurt, but the shock was taking over your emotions at the current moment. You could feel a rush of emotions and you prayed Mammon wouldn’t see you as you quickly left the casino.

_______________

You were Levi’s one and only true friend, right? You were his Henry. You meant something special to Levi - you were sure of it.

You didn’t think much of it when Levi started showing TSL to the new exchange student. It was his favorite series, so of course he wanted to show it to whoever he could. But, you did notice how close they sat together. Levi had told you he wasn’t a fan of physical touch - so you thought it was strange when his leg or hand brushed theirs and he didn’t react.

You shook your head as you tried to push the thoughts out of your head. You had only been passing by on your way to the room. You weren’t trying to spy or impose and you thought it was time to go back to your room.

“You’d be Henry to my Lord of Shadows,” Levi told them and you froze as you heard them both laugh. Them? Henry? Maybe you didn’t mean something special to Levi after all.

_______________

Reading was your and Satan’s thing. It had been something the two of you did regularly ever since the two of you had grown closer. He would sit close to you or hold you on his lap as the two of you read together, and he would occasionally look up from the book just to admire you.

It was something that made you feel so special because of how uninterested he was with you at first. You had to earn your way to that point in your relationship. You had to gain his trust and prove that you cared about him.

Not the new exchange student though. Within the first couple of weeks, they were in Satan’s arms as he read to them, his eyes holding more love than you thought was possible for someone nicknamed the Avatar of Wrath.

You wished you could burn the sight out of your mind. And maybe you could have forgotten it if you didn’t hear him read the book in his hand aloud. It was Romeo and Juliet - a classic from the human world. Satan was reading Romeo’s lines and had asked them to read Juliet’s.

"Did my heart love till now?” Satan asked, and you knew there was more to the line. But he stopped - he faltered - genuinely asking himself the question as he gazed upon the human sitting next to him. A smile graced his lips as he pulled them closer.

_______________

When there was no more love to give, you were sure Asmo would still have some. He was the best at making sure everyone felt loved. He didn’t want to see anyone upset - it would give them frown lines!

You thought that you and Asmo were supposed to attend a fashion show together. He had mentioned that it was happening to you a little while ago. And then posted all over social media that he would be bringing his favorite human.

Maybe it was naive of you to believe that person was you. You just thought that you held that place after everything you had been through. But, when you went to his room to get ready for the night, you found him doing the new exchange student’s makeup. “We’re going to look like a power couple tonight!” he told them excitedly and you realized how wrong you were.

You quickly hid in the hallway, not wanting to be seen by either of them. “Before I met you, I only knew desire - not love,” Asmo added and you felt your heart drop. Was that all he felt for you then? Was there nothing that separated you from others?

_______________

Having Beel choose someone else over you was one of the worst feelings. Beel was the most comforting when you were upset. He always listened and gave the best hugs. So, when all these things started happening, you needed someone to talk to so that you didn’t break down.

You had asked Beel to go out to dinner with you that night and he agreed. You were so thankful that you would finally be able to get things off your chest and had waited for him to get home so that you could go to the restaurant together.

It had been an hour and then two and there was no sign of him. He hadn’t responded to your calls or your text messages. You gave up on your outing with Beel and moved to the kitchen to fix yourself a snack for dinner. That’s when you heard Beel come home with the new exchange student.

“Thanks for going to dinner with me tonight, you’re my favorite person to spend time with besides Belphie,” Beel told them and you stayed as quiet as you could, trying not to make your presence known. Who do you go to for comfort when your comfort person isn’t there?

_______________

Belphie annoyed you a bit when he started growing closer to the new exchange student. You didn’t have anything against them - how could you when they hadn’t done anything to you personally?

But you had to die - correction, Belphie had to kill you - in order for him to even want to get to know you. And yet, in a matter of a couple of weeks, he was all over the new student. What was so wrong with you that he couldn’t have done the same for you?

He pretty much never slept on your lap anymore, searching high and low for them. Only wanting them. You were no longer good enough for his naps. You were no longer the one who gave him good dreams and restful sleep.

Maybe you only had yourself to blame. You were the one who changed his perspective of humans. But, regardless of whether it was your fault, it still hurt when he told them, “I finally understand what Lilith saw in humans.” He had found the human he wanted - not the one he was given.

_______________

Diavolo wasn’t known for being biased. He was taught that as the future King, he would have to put personal preferences aside and do what was best for the Devildom. You could see that conditioning in him since the first time you met him.

He wouldn’t be outright flirtatious with you. He would simply admire from afar. But, when the two of you were alone his true feelings came out. Secrets being told of how you changed him. Words of love and gratitude that were meant for your ears and your ears alone.

He wasn’t so secretive when it came to the new exchange student. He would give them flowers in the middle of the halls at RAD. He would wear a joyful smile as they clutched his arm when walking them through the campus. As if he was showing them off. He had never looked that prideful when he was walking with you.

You had walked out into the courtyard when you saw the two of them. You were just trying to go home, so you attempted to walk around them. That’s when you heard Diavolo tell them, “You are far more exquisite than any human I’ve ever met.”

_______________

If you thought Barbatos wouldn’t be one to fall for the new student’s charms, think again. He may be Diavolo’s butler, but he has a mind of his own, and he has feelings of his own. Feelings that had somehow now belonged to the new exchange student.

Barbatos didn’t have much time outside of work, so the two of you were never able to do anything specific together. So, it wasn’t that you caught Barbatos doing one of your things with them. It was what Barbatos was doing to you.

He hadn’t said anything to you - that would be improper. But you could see it in his eyes and the way he acted. How he somehow always managed to stand next to them while simultaneously giving you a slight look of disapproval.

Then, you heard him say to them, “You’re by far the best decision the young Lord has made.” You hadn’t said or done anything different. So, why were you suddenly considered not good enough in Barbatos’ eyes?

_______________

Solomon was naturally drawn to the new exchange student. After all, even though the term was stretched when talking about him, he was human. And, it was only natural for humans to want to be around other humans.

But, you didn’t realize that spending time with the new human meant casting you aside. He had been your teacher and you had been his apprentice. But he chose to forego your training in magic. He had something more important to do. Someone more important to teach.

He didn’t think twice as he practically abandoned your teaching and spent as much time as possible teaching the new student everything he knew about magic. You could admit that it hurt because you had put so much effort into trying to learn and be a good student.

It hurt more though when Solomon told them, “I’m excited to finally teach an apprentice who is actually skilled in magic.” You thought you were doing good. When you started learning from Solom, you thought you had no magical ability whatsoever. So you were proud of the accomplishments you had made. But, apparently, your best effort would never touch them on their worst day.

____________

Angels were known for being benevolent entities. So, you never would have expected Simeon to be just like the others. Another person in your life who was so blinded by the new exchange student that he had completely forgotten about you.

They were the one Simeon went to now to put a smile on his face. They were the one Simeon admired from a distance, wondering how such beauty could exist.

Simeon had told you once that he believed you had come from the Celestial Realm because you were the perfect balance of everything good. Kindness, bravery, beauty, etc. He could have rambled on. You thought it was a compliment of the highest regard - until he said the same thing to them.

Was it a line that you fell for? You couldn’t imagine Simeon would be the type to use pick-up lines. So, then, he meant it at the time. But, now he had found someone else who inspired those same emotions - stronger emotions. He had found his new muse.

_______________

Luke had always been one you could count on to be your friend. He constantly worried about you and wanted to make sure you were staying out of trouble. He was so worried about you losing your soul or having it tainted by the demons that surrounded you.

He stopped worrying though when he met the new exchange student. Suddenly, there was someone else he cared about more. Someone else he thought was more worth protecting. He didn’t even think twice now if he heard you got into any kind of trouble.

And, any pastries or sweets immediately went to the new student. They were his taste-tester because ‘they were the only one he could trust for an honest and good opinion.’ He even went so far as to add, ‘The other person I asked doesn’t know how to give a proper review. But you seem like you actually know what you’re doing!’

It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was talking about considering you were the only other one he had asked to try his pastry. And after that time, he bypassed you and just went straight to the new student.

_______________

It’s strange to think that a reaper would have preferences for humans. You would have thought that all humans were the same to them. After all, death is death no matter which way you look at it. But, Thirteen certainly had a preference.

Your shiny soul is what first attracted Thirteen to you. She thought it was so special. And because of that, the two of you had the opportunity to grow closer. You bonded with her over her traps and you tried to show her so many other things.

But, your soul wasn’t as special as you thought. According to Thirteen, the new student’s was so much more shiny. It was so much more special. There wasn’t another human soul that could compare to theirs.

And soon after that revelation, you had become a ghost to Thirteen. She already didn’t make too many appearances, and now when she did show up, they were the only ones she wanted to see. She could care less about you.

_______________

There was an adjustment period before Mephisto came to like you. But, after he had gotten to know you, he understood why the others were so infatuated with you. There was something remarkable about humans.

But, you weren’t the only human in the world and you weren’t the only one who was unique. It took no time for Mephisto to take an interest in the new exchange student. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves with confidence. In your defense, you would have had a lot more confidence when you first came if you had the same preparation they got.

You had stopped helping Mephisto with the RAD newspaper after their arrival. You had introduced them to the club and didn’t take them long to take over that as well.

“You’re far more efficient than Y/N and you yield much better results,” you heard Mephisto say and that was the last day you came to the club. There was no point in going somewhere where you clearly weren’t wanted.

_______________

Even Raphael had managed to hop on board the “new exchange student” train. He had only visited the Devildom a couple of times since they came. And, he had the pleasure of talking to them each time.

His compliments seemed to be never-ending. You had never heard Raphael speak so much and with such enthusiasm. It was as if he was writing a poem about them with the words he decided to speak.

You wondered what exactly the new exchange student had that had grabbed the attention of the high-ranking angel. There must have been a quality they had that you were missing because you had done everything you could to gain Raphael’s favor.

“I never thought a human would be worth an angel’s time until now,” he stated. There were few things Raphael liked more than spears, and he had effectively driven one through your heart.

_______________

Things only escalated from there. You were the last thing on anyone’s mind. No one wanted to spend time with you anymore. You meant nothing to them.

At one point, the brothers had asked if it would be possible to switch your position in the House of Lamentation with the new exchange student. They just believed the new student would fit in better with them.

Diavolo had agreed to the request and the next thing you knew, you were moving into Purgatory Hall. They didn’t even pause to ask you what you thought about the situation. They just wanted the new exchange student.

Simeon did try to be sympathetic when you had first come to Purgatory Hall, but you could see the disappointment on his face. You could see it on all of their faces. No one wanted you.

Being at Purgatory Hall was uncomfortable because your presence just made your roommates miss the other human. So, you spent a lot of time out and about, only using your room at Purgatory Hall for sleep.

You avoided everyone as much as possible, not wanting to see their disappointed and cold looks when their eyes met yours. You wanted to go back to the human world and leave them behind, but Diavolo wouldn’t allow it until the school year was over. You were trapped.

Days turned to weeks and those turned to months. You felt like time was dragging on, taking you piece by piece with it. You only knew what day it was because today was your birthday.

You didn’t expect anyone to remember. You didn’t expect anyone to care. But it still hurt when you didn’t get a single text message or phone call. You really were alone here. You had no one who loved you.

You didn’t want to spend your birthday sulking in silence so you decided to go out on the town at night. You just wanted to go look at some shops and maybe buy yourself a cake from Madam Devian’s.

But you should have known better than to explore the Devildom at night by yourself. It didn’t take long for a group of demons to find you and attack you.

You could have used the pacts to call the demon brothers and have them save you. But you could imagine the anger on their faces at having been torn away from the one they wanted to spend time with. You wondered if you called them if they would even try to save you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You simply took every bit of pain the demons dealt until they were satisfied, leaving you broken on the ground.

You were lying on the pavement, looking up at the Devildom sky when a couple of tears escaped your eyes.

You were beginning to bleed out, but you knew that you couldn’t get up and move. This was where you were going to die. All by yourself with no one caring whether or not you slipped away from them. And as you took your final breath, all you could do was pray that this was a horrible nightmare that you would wake up from.

_______________

“Song’s over.”

You let out a gasp as your eyes snapped open. You were at Diavolo’s ball and the demon in black was standing in front of you for a moment before disappearing. Mammon stood in front of you now, concern in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Are ya’ alright?” he asked and you felt like your head was spinning. You had already been here. He had already asked you that. The other brothers had now joined your side and you felt your emotions rushing you as your mind replayed everything you had just witnessed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Satan asked, gently placing his hand on your shoulder and you subconsciously flinched from the touch as the walls holding back the dam of tears you had were starting to crumble.

They left you for someone else. They didn’t want you. They didn’t care about you. You remembered everything so well. You felt everything that happened. It had to have been real.

You finally looked into their eyes with tears falling from yours and at this point, they were all incredibly worried about you. They could see how much pain you were in but they didn’t know what to do to help. Suddenly, the crowd and the music were overbearing and you needed to leave.

So that’s what you did. You immediately began running out of the ball, not wanting to be around anyone else. In a happier situation, you would have looked like Cinderella running away from her prince. But right now, you just wanted to lock yourself in your room and try to figure out what was going on while letting yourself feel every emotion you were trying to hold back.

You had taken your outfit off the second you got to your room, the fancy fabric was too tight for you right now when you felt like you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You changed into whatever felt the most comfortable and then sat on your bed, your knees tucked into your chest as tears freely poured down your cheeks.

You weren’t sure how long it had been until someone came to check on you.

Lucifer followed after you almost immediately after you left the ball. He knew how dangerous the Devildom was for a human and he wanted to ensure that you got home safely.

But with him having to push through the people at the ball and not knowing exactly where you were headed, he ended up arriving at the house just shortly after you.

He immediately went to your room and gently knocked on the door. He waited a moment for you to answer it, but when you didn’t he slowly turned the knob and opened it. Did you forget to lock the door?

It wasn’t that you necessarily didn’t want to see Lucifer, you just didn’t hear him knock through all the thoughts that were racing in your mind.

Lucifer approached the bed and sat down next to you, carefully taking your hand in his as his eyes burned with concern.

He waited until you were ready, not wanting to push you. And when you finally spoke, Lucifer listened to every word you said. From the beginning of the story to the end.

He made a promise to himself that he was going to find that demon and give him a proper punishment for putting you through this pain. But, that could wait.

“After everything you’ve done for me and my family, do you really think you could be that easily replaced?” Lucifer asked and your eyes finally met his, seeing the genuineness in them. He had never been so serious about something in his life.

You were the only human who had ever stirred up these feelings inside of Lucifer. And he would prove that to you every day if that’s what it took.

He never wanted you to doubt his love for you, because he knew how strong it was. And he knew that no other human could replace you in his heart - ever.

Lucifer had told you that the entire endeavor wasn’t real and that you had been at the ball the entire night.

The memories you had felt so real. Your death felt so real. But, this moment with Lucifer felt more real. Beyond that, it felt right.

You felt like a million weights were being lifted off of you as you let yourself rest against his shoulder.

Lucifer pulled you even further into him and you allowed him to, his touch soothing every tainted memory you had.

The opera date was something the two of you were actually talking about and Lucifer made sure to get you tickets to opening night. He spoiled you relentlessly that night because there was no one else he’d rather go with than you.

Mammon’s heart broke when he saw the sad look in your eyes and the tears falling down your cheeks when you finally looked up at them.

When you started running, Mammon was torn between following after you and finding that demon who had been dancing with you. He wanted to ask him what the hell he did to you. But that demon was nowhere in sight, so Mammon went with the former option and went to the House of Lamentation.

He paused in front of your door when he heard you crying and he steadied himself before gently knocking on your door.

It took you a moment to open the door and when you finally did Mammon could see the extent of your sadness.

He wanted nothing more than to rush in and hug you, to comfort you the way that you always comforted him, but he could see the wary look that you had in your eyes when you looked at him so he didn’t. Did he do something wrong?

You moved out of the doorframe to let Mammon in before closing the door again and you both sat down on your bed.

“What happened?” Mammon asked, naturally looking over your body for any signs of injuries. If that demon laid a hand on you, he swore he would find him and kill him.

You had to take a couple of breaths to keep your composure before you told him what had happened. Everything from the casino to you dying.

When you reached the end of your story, Mammon was on the verge of his own tears. He couldn’t believe that any version of him would ever hurt you like that. But - it wasn’t real. He knew that it wasn’t real and he wanted you to know that it wasn’t real.

He decided to take the risk and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as your tears fell onto his shirt.

“That would never happen,” Mammon reassured you and more tears fell. You wanted to believe him so desperately.

“How do you know?” you asked him. There was no way he could be sure because he had never been put in that situation.

“Because I’m not just your first man. You’re my first human. You’re my only human,” Mammon admitted, thankful that you couldn’t see how red his cheeks were.

You leaned even further into Mammon’s touch, something you had been longing to do the entire time you were in that nightmare.

And being in his arms - you knew. Your Mammon would never replace you.

Levi was immediately alarmed when you had looked up at him with tears in your eyes. But when you started running - he was panicking. He’s admitted this before, but he’s seriously bad in crises.

He did nothing but question himself over and over again on what he should do. Was he supposed to follow you? Was he supposed to find that other demon?

He knew he had to act quickly before one of his other brothers decided to swoop in and save the day, so he went after you.

He spent a good five minutes standing outside your door just listening to you cry until he finally got the courage to knock on the door.

When you opened it, he immediately tensed up. He was freaking out on the inside. Was he supposed to hug you? Maybe hold your hand?

You moved back to your bed and Levi followed, timidly sitting down next to you. He was afraid if he breathed the wrong way that it would only make things worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Levi asked and was relieved when you nodded your head. You explained everything to him.

When you were done, Levi was mostly in shock. The idea of liking another human more than you was unheard of.

Not to mention cuddling on the couch with them while showing them TSL for the first time was a total normie thing to do! They would have had to at least watched it multiple times with him for him to even consider it. Levi would have to deem them worthy to want to be that close to them.

You were someone he deemed that worthy. He didn’t call you his true friend because it was a dumb nickname. He called you it because he meant it. Friend was a synonym for partner and in his mind that’s what you were to him. You were his true partner.

“Henry isn’t someone the Lord of Shadows could just replace. Their relationship is way too special for that,” Levi stated and you gave him a small smile. A smile that somehow gave Levi the confidence to say what he really meant to say.

“You’re not someone I could ever replace either,” Levi said, a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at his hands that were in his lap.

You gently took his hand in yours, wanting more comfort than only his words could provide. He didn’t even flinch when you touched him, happy to provide whatever comfort he could to his Henry.

Few things sent Satan into a flying rage as easily as seeing his human crying. The second he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he was angry. And that anger only built when you flinched at his touch and ran from them.

He was out for blood and he was eager to find it. His eyes were burning bright green as he scanned the area for the demon who had done this to you.

But he was nowhere to be seen. Satan had memorized his face. He could find him. It wouldn’t take too long.

But, Lucifer stopped him. In his angry state of mind, Satan was tempted to attack him for getting in his way. Until Lucifer told him, “She needs you.”

Those words were enough to stop Satan in his tracks as the anger that had been burning bright inside of him fizzled out.

He immediately went to the House of Lamentation and knocked on your door. He pushed down the wrath that was starting to build again when he saw you, and he gently reached his hand out to you. Then he remembered the way you had flinched at his touch and his hand dropped back down to his side.

You led him over to your bed and he allowed you to explain what had happened without any interruptions. He was livid when you told him you had died. Alone while he was nowhere to be seen. And his vendetta against the demon only strengthened as he listened to all the pain he put you through.

Another tear fell down your cheek and Satan carefully reached up and brushed it away with his thumb, his hand resting against your cheek.

It didn’t matter how angry he was right now, you didn’t need that side of him. You needed the side of him that was soft and caring. The side only you elicited.

“Romeo and Juliet?” Satan questioned and you locked eyes with him. “How cliche,” he added. He didn’t want a love like Romeo and Juliet. He wanted a love that transcended it. A love that couldn’t be described by words on paper because it was too strong - too unique. A love that he felt for you.

You leaned into Satan’s touch and he dared to pull you into his lap. Something he had done so comfortably other times, but now it had a deeper, more intimate meaning. No one would ever feel as good as you to have in his arms.

From that day on, Satan made sure to read you every single romantic line he found in one of his books so that you knew that you were his one and only love.

Asmo hated seeing you cry. It wasn’t that you looked bad when you were crying. He believed you were so perfect that you looked good doing anything.

But, someone as beautiful as you should never cry. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Asmo was quick to reach the House of Lamentation after you and was barely able to control himself long enough to knock instead of just entering the room.

When you opened the door, Asmo immediately pulled you into a hug. He had noticed the way you had flinched at Satan’s touch and he was hoping you wouldn’t push him away. All he wanted to do was comfort you and this was the way he knew how. If he was upset a hug would instantly make him feel better.

You were tense at first when Asmo first wrapped his arms around you, but slowly you relaxed into the hug and after you had calmed down a little bit, Asmo took to over to your bed. He asked you to tell him what happened while gently wiping away all of your tears.

Asmo was appalled as you explained everything that had happened. They had all replaced you just like that? As if you didn’t mean anything to them?

“Do you really think the only thing I feel for you is desire?” Asmo questioned and you felt taken aback.

Before all this had happened you would have never believed it. You would have trusted in Asmo’s love for you.

But, after everything you had been through, you did question it. You wanted it to be real. You wanted to know that it was real.

Asmo looked into your eyes and saw the internal struggle you were having. He could tell that whatever world the demon put you in made you doubt Asmo’s love for you and it broke his heart.

“Hun, you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel something more. The only one who’s made me feel loved and the only one that I’ve fallen in love with,” Asmo stated honestly.

You felt a new wave of tears come and he wiped them as they fell. He would always love you. It didn’t matter who came into his life or who tried to take him away from you. They would never be able to take away the feelings he felt for you. He was positive of it.

Beel is quick to react when he sees you crying. He wanted to immediately give you a hug but he stopped himself when he saw you flinch away from Satan.

At first, he thought that maybe one of his brothers had done something to you. Or was it him? He didn’t remember doing anything that could have caused you to be so upset.

When you started running away, Beel remembered the demon that you were dancing with and he started looking all around for him.

He left shortly after he realized that the demon had disappeared somewhere. He trusted Lucifer would find and punish the demon, and he wanted to check on you.

He was nervous when he first approached your room. Would you flinch away from him as well?

When you opened the door and he saw how broken you looked, he threw all of his worries out the window. He wanted to be there for you. He needed to be there for you. But he would never push you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with.

He opened his arms, offering you a hug and you paused for a moment, contemplating it. But, as previously stated, he was your comfort person.

So you moved forward, practically collapsing into his arms, finding the comfort you had been so desperately seeking.

Beel immediately engulfed you in his arms, thankful that you hadn’t turned him away. He couldn’t stand seeing you so sad.

He gently rubbed your back, doing what he could to help you feel better and when you finally calmed down a bit, you explained everything that had happened.

The image of you dying when you told your story was enough for tears to start to form in his own eyes. He couldn’t imagine losing you like he lost Lilith.

He pulled you even tighter into him and the hug had now turned from him comforting you to the two of you comforting each other.

“You know that you’re my favorite person to spend time with besides Belphie, right?” Beel asked softly. You had to know it. He had to hear you say that you knew it. He never wanted you to question your place in his heart.

You ran the question through your mind a couple of times. The experience you just had made you want to believe it was a lie. But, with him hugging you now, you couldn’t deny your feelings for each other.

You nodded your head, unable to speak words. But, Beel wasn’t a man of many words either so your gesture was enough to make his shoulders relax with relief.

He’ll make sure he’s always there to comfort you when you need it.

Belphie didn’t know how to react at first when he saw you crying. He hadn’t ever seen you cry before. Your resolve was usually so strong that nothing could break you.

He knew something was really wrong when you ran away from them. Whatever the demon had done to you, it must have been very messed up. And now, he wanted blood. He wanted revenge for hurting you.

He was incredibly frustrated when he looked around and couldn’t find the demon in sight. Where could he have possibly gone in such a short amount of time?

He was too lazy to hunt the demon down though. He would leave that job to Lucifer or Diavolo and ask for a turn in punishing them when they found him.

Instead, he chose to go to the House of Lamentation and check on you.

He was unexpectedly anxious when he knocked on the door. Part of him wanted to leave, scared that his presence wouldn’t help. He had killed you.

He didn’t have time to act on his insecurities though as you opened the door and came face to face with him.

He was speechless when he saw your sad features and he made a promise that after tonight he would make sure he never saw you this sad again.

You allowed Belphie to enter your room and sat with him on the bed. There were a few moments of awkward silence when you finally started talking.

When you first started explaining, Belphie wanted to laugh. You were kidding, right? Him? Liking another human more than you?

He didn’t even like other humans. He merely tolerated them because of you. So the idea of liking one more than you was unthinkable.

But, when you finished explaining your story, he was upset. The images of you dying once already haunted his nightmares, and now you were telling him that you died again? And the way you died - Belphie knew that the new images would plague his mind.

Before you even knew what was happening, Belphie pulled you down onto your bed and held you in his arms.

“You are why I understand what Lilith saw in humans. That’s never going to change,” Belphie told you, holding you tightly in his arms. He wanted to give you every ounce of the love he had for you and hoped that it would be enough to give you any kind of comfort.

He visited you in your sleep almost every night to chase away any dreams of your time in that nightmare. He never wanted you to think of it again, because none of it was true, and it never would be true.

Diavolo was just about to wrap up the night when he noticed a demon in black dancing with you. He immediately got a bad feeling about the demon and took a step towards him, but then saw that the demon brothers had the situation under control.

He remained in his place as the song winded down, but he once again faltered when he saw you running out of the castle. He wanted to immediately run after you, but his duties required him to keep his composure.

He was taking deep breaths as he put on a fake smile and said the closing comments of the ceremony, wishing everyone a good night.

As soon as the last person left, his resolve crumbled as he approached the brothers and asked what had happened.

They told him what little they knew and Diavolo went back to the House of Lamentation with them. He wanted to check on you personally. It was his ball that you ran out of, after all. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if he didn’t see you after you looked so upset.

Diavolo knocked on the door, attempting to respect your privacy. But, he was sure if you didn’t answer it, he would have busted it down to make sure that you were okay.

Luckily, you opened the door soon after he knocked and your sorrow passed onto him as soon as he saw you.

He took a few steps in and closed the door behind him, wanting this to be a private conversation.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but I saw you leave the ball upset, and I was worried about you,” Diavolo stated and you gave him a small, sad smile.

“Thank you for checking on me,” you replied quietly and Diavolo needed you to talk about what was going on. He wanted to help.

“Would you tell me what happened?” he questioned, gently taking your hand in his to reassure you that you could talk to him.

You gave a small nod before explaining everything that had happened that night and Diavolo was immediately concerned. How did a demon like that even manage to get past the castle security? More so, how had he managed to get to his exchange student?

“I assure you, I have no upcoming plans to expand the exchange program. And if it did happen, I would never forget you or replace you. Not after the way you’ve made me feel,” Diavolo told you, looking deeply into your eyes as he held both of your hands now.

He’ll also make sure to walk with you around RAD more and show you off because he was proud to be walking next to you. He’ll shower you with love and gifts in front of everyone to prove the feelings that he held for you.

Barbatos had immediately sensed something was wrong when you and the demon had locked hands, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Like Diavolo, he moved to help you until he noticed the demon brothers stepping in.

He thought that they had it under control, so he remained at Lord Diavolo’s side. But, he was quickly proven wrong when he saw you running out of the castle crying.

Barbatos immediately looked to Lord Diavolo and Diavolo gave him a nod communicating everything Barbatos needed to know. He was allowing Barbatos to go check on you.

Barbatos quickly went to the House of Lamentation, not bothering to speak to the brothers about what happened. He would find out from you.

He could have teleported directly into your room, but he decided to try and be respectful of the current situation you were in so he knocked on the door.

When you opened the door, he saw how deeply sad you were and he was panicking slightly. He’s never had to console a human who was this sad.

He offered you his handkerchief and you gave him a small smile of gratitude as you took it from him, gently dabbing away your tears.

Barbatos could sense time magic on you the second you had opened the door. He knew that you had somehow been teleported to another universe and that something tragic happened there. But, he still let you explain it to him in your own words.

He listened attentively as you told him the story and he paid attention to every detail. Like any good butler would.

A new wave of tears had begun to fall as you spoke and Barbatos took the handkerchief back from you, carefully wiping them away himself this time.

When you finished talking, Barbatos’ first thought was torture. He could come up with a hundred creative ways to punish the demon who sent you to that universe. And when Barbatos was hunting someone down, there was no running and there was certainly no hiding.

But after the anger had begun to fade, he looked at your sorrowful features once again. You were something special and no one could ever take that away from you.

“When Diavolo first mentioned the exchange program to me, I looked through the timelines to make sure it didn’t end badly for the young Lord. Trust me when I tell you this, Y/N - you are the best decision he has ever made,” Barbatos promised you, wiping away the last of your tears.

He would never look at you with disdain because he knew how unhappy everyone would be if they didn’t have you in their life. Including him.

Simeon wasn’t able to spend too much time with you at the ball because of the demon brothers, but he always kept his eyes on you. How could he not when you looked so stunning?

He was never too far from you, so when you started crying, he noticed. And when you ran out of the castle, Simeon went into full protection mode. Someone had hurt you and he wouldn’t stand for it.

He followed you back to the House of Lamentation and gently knocked on the door, praying that you would open it and allow him inside.

He was thankful when his prayer was answered and you opened the door, revealing your broken state.

Simeon took small steps inside your room, making sure you were comfortable with him being there. But, when you didn’t show any signs of resistance, he closed the door and led you over to your bed.

You were such a kind and beautiful soul, he hated seeing you so upset. He couldn’t understand anyone ever wanting to hurt you like this.

“Can I help you in any way?” Simeon questioned, but you didn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer him because you didn’t know how he could. But, you also didn’t want him to leave yet and he could see that in your eyes. So, he tried a different question.

“Can you tell me about it?” Simeon asked and you agreed, telling him all about the world you had been teleported to that held so much hatred and anger towards you.

Your story broke Simeon’s heart. He couldn’t believe you had to endure all that pain. And he hated that a version of him had contributed to that pain.

He did tell you once that he believed you had actually come from the Celestial Realm because of how perfect you were. But he never said those words to anyone else and he never would. You were one of a kind.

Simeon used the back of his hand to gently brush away your tears and you looked into his eyes. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

He had so much love to give to you and he would make sure you got to feel all of it, starting now. “You’re the only one who will ever be my muse. The only one who I’ll ever feel so strongly for,” Simeon told you softly - intimately - meaning every word.

He knew that the demon who hurt you like this was in for it big time. He had managed to make both the Celestial Realm and the Devildom angry and Simeon was sure there was no corner that the demon could hide in where one of them wouldn’t find him.

Solomon could sense a strong surge of magic in the castle and he immediately went to find the source. That was one of the benefits of knowing magic like the back of your hand.

When his eyes finally landed on the source, he saw a demon gripping tightly onto your hands. It reminded him of the first time he saved you from your dance with Lucifer.

He began walking in your direction to once again save you but Mammon had beat him to the punch, pushing the demon away, so Solomon stopped in his tracks,

When he saw you crying, he was angry. He knew that demon had used some kind of magic on you and he wouldn’t stop until he found out what it was.

His mind went blank when you suddenly ran out of the castle. You had rushed past him, but he was pretty sure you didn’t notice with how upset you were.

Solomon went to the House of Lamentation to check on you and when you opened the door to your room, he immediately scanned your features. He double-checked that there were no signs of lasting magic on you and when he determined that you were safe for now, he asked you what had happened.

Solomon had so many questions as you explained what had happened to you. What was such a powerful demon doing at the Demon Lord’s Castle and why did he target you specifically?

He knew he would get those answers eventually. He would play a big part in helping track down the demon. All in due time. Right now, he was more worried about you.

“You have an immeasurable amount of magic potential, so please don’t let what that demon did to you make you doubt yourself,” Solomon told you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders.

He looked deeply into your eyes to stress the importance of his words and how sincere he was being with you when he said them.

He took another look at your features. Your cheeks were stained from your tears and your eyes were glossy and puffy, but Solomon still thought you looked so beautiful.

He gently pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug to reassure you of his feelings for you.

In all of his time alive, he had never met someone as incredible as you and he would never let you slip through his fingers.

“Besides, I would never abandon my adorable apprentice.”

Eventually, word had gotten out to the others about what had happened to you at the ball and everyone was upset about it. They hated that you had to go through something like that. And they hated that their alternate universe counterparts had played a part in hurting you.

Luke would make sure to always bring you his pastries when he made something new and he would tell you how much he valued your opinion over others’. He would also make sure to continue to give you hugs. You were the only human he would ever be this close with.

Thirteen thought the idea of another human having a soul as special as yours was laughable. Solomon’s had come close, sure, but there was still a difference. She made sure to make more time to spend with you. She wanted to grow closer to you.

Mephisto doesn’t react outwardly to news like this much. But, it did subtly affect him. He’ll make sure to compliment you on any work you do for the RAD newspaper and he’ll go out of his way to talk to you more at social gatherings.

Raphael wasn’t the best at striking up conversations, but when he found out that he played a part in your downfall, it made him question things. If he had hurt you like the others then that meant he played an important enough role in your life that you cared about his opinion. He’ll pay more attention to you from now on and he’ll do his best to try to get to you know like the others have.

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forthedancingandthethriving · 1 year ago

Text

"You can't just kill anyone who doesn't agree to your prices, Stinger!"

"Madam Stinger to you, Mixer!"

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

In a base located far in the recesses of the Dark Web, Madam Stinger and Mixer walk down a hall together. (Well, fly in Madam Stinger's case.)

"I don't see what the big deal is!" Madam Stinger huffs, waving a hand about. "I'm already wanted by all the agencies on tbe Surface, what's a little manslaughter?"

"The dealing crimes will get you imprisoned," Mixer groans, "and the slaughtering will get you killed. So, no more dealing, even while incarcerated."

"Augh, that's no fun!" Madam Stinger pouts, crossing her arms. The honeycomb themed walls buzz with life as they walk past, with smaller bee programs working busily. "Fine, I'll cut the slaughtering.."

"Thank you, Madam Stinger." Mixer sighs before rubbing his head. "How did that CPU ever put up with you...?"

Instantly, the dealer was in his face. "What did you say?"

"NOTHING AHAHAHAHA!" Mixer grins nervously, holding up his hands. "I SAID.. HOW DID YOU NEVER GET CAUGHT? BECAUSE YOU'RE SO AMAZING!"

"Oh!" Madam Stinger grins and claps her hands together. "Well, really, I have Chainlink to thank for that! You see, after CPU and I split after I accidentally got us demoted from Moderators that one time.."

Mixer rubs his face, following after his boss. Love her as he did, sometimes it was scary working as her assistant. He had to contend with her personality and her no tolerance for any bullshit.

Hell, the only reason he even managed to live the encounter where he couldn't pay her was because she saw value in him.

Tugging his coat closer to his shoulders, Mixer spares a glance up at Madam Stinger, who was still rambling on and on without a care on the world.

Mixer chuckles quietly. It wasn't all that bad. Luckily, the pay was good.

("Ah, son of a bitch.." CPU hisses quietly, pressing a hand to one of his ears.

"You okay?" Buffer frowns, lifting her head away from some files.

"I'm fine, my ears are just burning for some reason." He shakes his head.

"You know, that apparently means someone is talking about you!")

#program: madam stinger #program: mixer #admin: cpu #admin: buffer #fanfiction: my writing!#!posts!#OKAY SO THEIR TEXT WAS GONNA BE YELLOW BUT LIKE ITS?? NOT THERE??#like obv yellow isn't on Tumblr mobile so I usually got to the website. but. it wasnt there. so #yeah idk. at this point i might just flop into a river #so. *looks menacingly at Crash* ....... what to do with you.#I'm kidding! hopefully

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callmeakaashi · 2 months ago

Text

– can you blame me? ❀*ੈ⋆ ⋆

synopsis: you and tsukishima have been rivals for years now. you know what makes the other tic – and recently it's been your ex-boyfriend. the two of you are forced to be student panelists but turn into more when a research mixer happens the first night. genre: grad school!au. angst, rivals-to-lovers. enemies-to-lovers. fluff. angst. milddd smut (if you squint). wc: 3.4k warnings: lite smut. drug usage. drinking. language. taglist: @chososbbygrl (because you always believed in my writing <3)

kei tsukishima is not your friend. he's very far from it actually. he was just another annoying-ass man from your grad program. another asshole ready to correct you when your answers strayed from fully correct, or even just simply unsure.

but now, him and you were boarding your flight for the annual neuroscience convention your school attended.

being the first and second (respectively) in your class, it was apparent you'd be student ambassadors as soon as it was even mentioned.

of course, he had to one-up you by being the first to volunteer.

and you couldn't have that. so here we are at 4am. in line to board, him behind you – and your fucking delta app wouldn't load. "pfft." he snorted. "you should've just added it to your apple wallet, y'know like a normal person?"

"shut. up. kei." you sighed under your breath, connecting your phone to and from the airport wifi again before finally seeing the pass.

"about damn time." he sneered.

it would be a long trip.

you slept throughout the flight, occasionally waking for refreshments before leaning your head against the window and dozing back off. but as you landed, you began to wake. "god, we're already here?" you said to yourself, mostly.

"and i can't believe you chose to sleep through it, instead of prepare." tsuki said, dryly, not even looking up from his laptop.

"maybe if you actually had a life outside of this shit, you would stop being so uptight about it."

"and maybe if you cared a little more, that-"

the landing announcement had begun. the two of you went silent, pushing your trays up and beginning to adjust your belongings.

out of the corner of your eye, tsuki sucked his teeth and shook his head at you before giving his full attention to his phone.

"pathetic.." he said, beginning to stretch as he stood.

the plane had landed now, and san diego wasn't that far away anymore. "bitch." you muttered under your breath, bumping your shoulder against his as you reached for your bag.

his head whipped around and though your eyes were on your bag, trying to steady it in your hands before putting it on the ground, you could damn near feel his eyes narrowing. "welcome to san diego and thank you for flying with us this morning!" one of the flight attendants chirped. you gave a half smile. it was 5am. there's almost nothing to smile about if there's not a redbull in sight.

"ignore her. you know how mornings are for some people." tsuki laughed, nudging you with his elbow. "you know, i actually hate you?" you mock asked, walking through the terminal at this point.

"oh, the feeling is mutual. i see why that little boyfriend of yours isn't on your profile anymore" your boyfriend. well, ex.

"and why that little girlfriend of yours is.. what? nonexistent? like any grown woman wants to put up with your mouth 24/7." you spat. silence. he didn't turn around but you saw his jaw tense.

it just slipped out. and he'd mentioned your ex first. if hurting his feelings is the price you have to pay to get some silence – maybe it's worth it.

the uber was silent too. tsuki, full of arrogance, was headphones on in his own little world looking at the map as you moved deeper into the city.

"i wouldn't want a girlfriend like you, anyway." he finally says softly, leg bouncing viciously.

"that was never an option."

the driver's eyes dart between the two of you before he turns the music up a few notches.

a sigh escaped your mouth as you slumped lower in your seat, pulling your hoodie down to feel some sense of comfort.

the golden state was gonna hold all the bad memories, ironically, it seems. between being stuck with tsuki for the next four days and your ex-boyfriend, iwaizumi, transferring to school here, nothing was promising.

no, it wasn't that he didn't want to be with you. he couldn't. not when you were across the country at johns hopkins. or at least that's what you told yourself after that second (and last) phone call where he said he couldn't do this anymore. and in his words, he "can't feel that you love him."

the car pulled to the front of some hotel, tall and sleek, across from a baseball stadium, and click, the car doors unlocked. "well.." the driver cleared his throat. "we're here."

your tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as you took in your surroundings.

check-in went by in a blur. tsuki talking to the receptionist, giving both of you a room key before the two of you were in an elevator heading to the eleventh floor, where the room was.

"so your slides aren't finished are they?" tsuki asked.

was this his version of small talk? acting – no, genuinely hating you, and then asking if your priorities were in order.

"why do you care?"

"because i deserve an actual rival, not this half-baked, heartbroken – whatever this is," he looked down at you, adjusting his glasses. "if i knew some breakup could just get you this distracted, i would've just broke your heart myself."

a breath caught in your throat. your lips parted and then pressed together again. your eyes met each other and he raised an eyebrow, expecting a response.

but this time, you didn't have anything. maybe tsuki breaking your heart would've been an easier fate.

the elevator couldn't open fast enough.

"look... my bad." tsuki sighed, pursing his lips.

"yeah, whatever." you grumbled.

standing at the room felt like the longest time ever. "fucking door." tsuki fumbled, attempting to scan the keycard on each side.

eventually, that little light turned green and he pushed the door open with more force than anticipated.

the room was nice. it was elegant in a quiet way. the windows faced the beach, a spacious desk in the corner near a lamp, two beds adjacent to the desk. a balcony, two chairs, and small table.

you made a mental note of another place to sneak off to tonight.

maybe california was getting a little more bearable.

"hm. this is calming." tsuki hummed, a flicker of warmth behind his eyes. you're half sure this is what his apartment back in baltimore looked like.

"yeah, it's nice." you said, striding through the room before placing your bags closest to the bed near the window. he rolled his eyes but didn't debate.

is this his version of an apology? either way, you'll take it.

the air from the ac was crisp. the sun shone through the windows. it's only 2pm. the only thing going on today was optional – some rooftop mixer for panelists and professionals and all of those swanky titles that were a little too old to be in the game. shaky hands of surgeons past their prime.

it was enough to make your eyes roll. plus, unless something drastic has changed, chances are your ex, iwaizumi would be there too.

you unpacked your lime suitcase and changed into some pajamas. between jetlag, tsuki, and a full four-day conference, missing a mixer wouldn't kill you.

the free drinks would be the only thing missed. your internships lined out the door and a resume so long, even google wouldn't read it. who cares.

you huffed as your back collided with the bed. tsuki shot you a look.

"don't you dare," he began. "we have a mixer tonight. this isn't a vacation."

"fuck off." you shot back, popping an edible into your mouth like candy. "i wanna watch my movies in peace tonight."

"what? to all the boys i've loved?" he chuckled. "you're not sitting in here sulking and crying all night."

"he'll be there, you do know that, right?"

"and?"

"i don't want to see the man that moved across the country and left me behind." you stretched, as the words burned the back of your chest.

"man," he snorted. "he couldn't even find the student center when he was on campus. that's your man? i bet he couldn't even find the clit."

"the WHO?" you laughed, shocked that he would even say something like that.

tsuki shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips as he took a drag of the vape he snuck on the plane. "it's true." he huffed.

"enough!" you hollered, an airy, out-of-breath giggle escaping your lips.

"i'll get you a lemon drop if you go." he taunted.

"deal."

the next few hours practically flew by. tsuki lost in his laptop before taking a nap. you scrolling through instagram, avoiding iwaizumi's green story bubble before falling into a dream of your own.

and then tsuki's three alarms – one for 8:15pm, another for 8:45pm, and the last one for 9:00pm. you only had one for 8:30. your eyes groggily opened to tsuki's perfectly made bed and the ties he's debating between strewn out onto the comforter.

"you really need a tie?" you sighed, clicking the power button on your phone to check the time.

9:03pm; 57 minutes until d-day.

"you're not seriously asking that, right?" tsuki half-groaned, looking you up and down out the corner of his eye.

you did know better than to ask. he always shows up dressed to a tee. he never not has. even his airport fit – charcoal grey sweatpants, hopkins pullover, matching headphones.

asking was just force of habit.

iwaizumi always dabbled between a regular tie, a bow, or honestly nothing – even just leaving one or two buttons undone for button-downs. your heart ached thinking of it before your eyes met tsuki's and he turned away.

you hadn't even realized but you'd been staring. the buzz of the edible still there.

"hm?" he hummed, questioning.

"nothing. don't worry about it, kei."

"you're being really fucking weird." tsuki sighed, before turning on his heels and heading to the bathroom. you caught a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror, still studying you.

the same look you've seen him give when the lecture slides start to get a little too complicated. that look that something's not accurate – not right.

you scaled the space between your luggage and the bed, carefully unwrapping the burgundy dress you brought for this event, just in case.

you slipped the dress on before throwing a t-shirt on over it to do your makeup.

you zoned out halfway through. prep done, brows filled, and lashes on. now for the main event.

you had both airpods popped in now, an amalgamation of your liked songs playing in your ears. until justin bieber's flatline kicked in, heavy bass pounding like a warning.

"she became a victim to my busy schedule"

your mind raced as the lyrics sunk deeper.

did iwaizumi ever miss you?

you missed his laugh. the way he'd scrunch his nose when he really laughed.

the absolute mess him and oikawa would make of his room before parties.

tears pricked your eyes at the thought of someone else getting that version of him. silly and loving, but not for you.

"shit." you exhaled, breathless and shaky.

you could feel eyes on you. tsuki sat on the edge of his bed now, adjusting strands of hair to look just the way he'd like. "what now?" he shot back.

you shook your head no but his footsteps felt closer. you tried to cover your face but he met your gaze in the vanity looking back at you.

"get a grip." his voice laced with something a little deeper than anger but a little softer than respect.

"iwaizumi's doing his shit right now. do not let your stupid little memories of him hold you back from doing what you gotta do."

he didn’t even blink. just stared you down in the mirror, sizing you up like he could will you back into yourself.

"right. you're so right, tsuki." the words fell out. "now what time is it?" he smirked, a low evil chuckle slipping out. "9:27. i'll leave your ass here if you're not ready by 9:50."

you whined but he just shrugged. "being early is being on time, sweetheart."

the rooftop was mildly packed. music drowned out in the background of voices. everyone looked polished, quiet luxury, but make it nerdy. the faint scent of lavender and vanilla wafted around you.

"so i do owe you a lemon drop," tsuki leaned into your ear, still looking around. the two of you made your way to the bar and before you knew it, you were being pulled away by advisors and researchers alike, talking about neurons and plasticity and some new "groundbreaking" research.

you spot tsuki across the room, laughing with some researchers from your undergraduate alma mater. he notices you staring and rolls his eyes before he points towards his phone.

ding, a text from him

"shouldn't you be, idk, mixing?"

"sorry, just didn't know you were an ass kisser"

"i'm glad you came." your advisor admits, as she puts a hand on your shoulder. "we need more talent like you in the field. passionate, dedicated – i'm excited to see what you do later down the line."

"thank you." you smile, taking another sip from your cocktail glass. your fingertips felt cold against the smooth glass and yet somehow your palms were warm, sweaty.

"go. enjoy yourself." she shoos you away proudly, and you make your way to one of the benches in the far corner, overlooking the city.

the warmth of the drink filled your chest and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you could actually breathe.

the skyline looked beautiful. fairy lights twinkled around you. the city didn't feel so painful anymore. it felt endless, like you were meant to be here.

a smile tugs on your lips as you catch tsuki leaned against the glass panel of the railing further down, smirking. his hands are in his pockets and then he glances over to you again, looking at you reflectively.

and then you see him. messy brown hair, a sage button down with the top two undone, that little gold chain. iwaizumi.

some girl had her hand on his chest.

he had seen you, face dropping slightly before getting back to his conversation.

your heart dropped. it felt like someone was sitting on your chest. like it had dropped the same amount of floors available. somewhere on the ground level, your heart was there. you were half sure it was scampering around in the lobby while everything around you crumbled.

your fingers gripped around your glass now, unsure of if letting go is something you're even capable of. a silent gasp caught in your throat.

"no. no fucking way." you muttered to yourself, eyes widening as he made his way over... with that girl.

the chances of seeing him tonight were supposed to be low. you'd done the stats in your head when tsuki offered the lemon drop. it was 1 (or 2) in 350, according to the eventbrite.

the music and the lights surrounding you felt dim and so far away. you'd placed your glass on the table in front of you without even realizing.

you couldn't see it now, but tsuki wasn't smirking anymore. his eyes were sharp, steady on you. he stood straighter now, faltering to come over after pushing himself off the railing.

he was in disbelief. the same shock you had. no way he was making his way over with some girl that wasn't you, her touching him the same way you would.

"hey." iwaizumi said, smiling coyly. it felt more like guilt than shyness. he'd never been an introvert.

"hey." you mirrored, unsure of there were any appropriate words in your heart for this interaction.

"what's up?" tsuki said, now behind you with a steady hand on the small of your back. his hands were cold but they radiated all over, backless dress be damned.

his eyes flickered between you, iwaizumi, and the girl. he smiled politely, aware of the company.

"yeah.." iwazumi cleared his throat. "just introducing my pretty girl to some of my old friends."

"doesn't look like there's much to introduce." tsuki chuckled, running his other hand through his hair.

"you sure?" your voice came out hoarse as you elbowed tsuki in the ribs. she chuckled, but nothing was funny.

"mmm, still a diva." iwaizumi said, mostly to tsuki. at this point, tsuki was the only thing grounding you. the only other options would be to actually float away or to punch him in the mouth.

no way he actually just said that. i'm the diva? and not the person who wanted a "change of scenery" and didn't just mean a different research program.

her eyes darted between you and iwaizumi, analyzing. "you're such an asshole, iwa," she giggled. "nice to meet you!" she chirped, sticking her hand out.

a chill crept up your spine. it was over. there was no hope of rekindling, even just feeling the grief and calling you. he had a girlfriend and you hated her. and worse, envied her.

the wind left your chest, you felt the tears start to well, and as much as you hoped they'd fall – they didn't.

instead the words "nice meeting you" escaped your lips and then you saw him. iwaizumi's eyes flickered between you, and the contact tsuki had with your back. patient, steady, drawing little circles as the interaction occurred.

"it's really good seeing you." tsuki said, his voice low.

his hands moved mindlessly – up your back, your neck, a subtle tuck of your hair behind your ear.

the contact felt normal, natural even – until he noticed. he didn't need to say it. his touch already did that.

it wasn't obvious, but enough to say "she's not yours anymore."

maybe it was the lemon drop or maybe just the tension building in your stomach.

fine. let him move on. maybe you would too.

the interaction ended there with iwaizumi being pulled away by some peers. tsuki's hand rested on your back as the two of you made your way to the bar.

"i fucking hate him." tsuki said, voice sharp and gravelly.

"me too." you said, the air in your lungs finally free.

the server had delivered your drinks and the liquor went down like water. your mouth was flowing now.

"y'know, he's actually a fucking cunt. and not like how you are." you chuckled.

tsuki snorted. "really? and what's exactly the difference?"

"at least you're honest. and you're hot in a brooding way. a way that says i understand you, not some surface-level frat boy shit." you rambled, gesturing with your wine glass swaying.

he scoffed, jaw slack before a giggle escaped his lips.

"you're fucking drunk," he cackled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"fuck you!" you shrieked. "but, you do get what i mean, right?"

"mhm," he took another sip of his drink. "so you're calling me emotionally mature?"

"and capable of feeling something deeper than a kiddie pool," you snorted.

tsuki's eyes dropped to your lips before he turned away for a moment, looking around the room at everyone still mingling, talking about god knows what.

your skin buzzed like static, radiating everywhere, and too much to be contained. heat rushed to your cheeks like a second drink hitting to fast.

"let's go." you rambled, hand finding tsuki's. his gaze snapped back to yours the second your fingers curled into his.

the two of you found your way to the elevator in what felt like a hurry. silence in the hallway as the music played sounding further away.

the doors shut and tsuki leaned past you to press the 11 button and the scent of his cologne pushed past your face – sharp, clean, and far too distracting.

"sorry if i said too much at the-,"

"shut up," he said.

you barely had time to blink before his lips were on yours. your hands slipped into the soft curls at his nape, the other curling into his tie.

a soft moan slipped from lips as your back met the cool elevator wall.

"man fuck him. and his girl. i've got the prettiest one in here."

tsuki's voice was low, raspy, and hot against your skin, just before he kissed right under your ear, trailing down your neck.

the elevator dinged.

your floor.

his tie was still in your fist. the two of you stood, breathless, looking at one another. you peeked out into the hallway, scanning your surroundings.

"come on."

tsuki's eyes darkened. his grip on your hand tightened as he began to lead you toward the room. the hallway blurred around you.

kei tsukishima was not your friend but maybe something a little bit more now.

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©callmeakaashi 2025.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu angst #tsuki angst #tsuki fluff #tsuki smut #kei tsukishima #hq x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #sorry for making iwaizumi a villain LMAO #tsukishima the man u AREEEE

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minniesmutt · 11 months ago

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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: LEE KNOW X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: SET IN 2010S, COLLEGE AU, POPULAR!LINO, PHOTOGRAPHER!READER, SWITCH!LEE KNOW, SWITCH!READER, NO AGE IS GIVEN BUT THEY ARE WRITTEN TO BE IN THEIR JUNIOR AND SENIOR YEAR, ALCOHOL, OVERTHINKING, ANXIETY, HINTED INSECURITIES BUT NOTHING IS DESCRIBED, FOOD, ASS GRABBING, PET NAMES, BITING, ORAL (F. REC), MUTUAL MASTURBATION, BOOB PLAY, MARKING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CUMSHOT, PHOTOS, PROTECTED SEX, SLIGHT OVER STIM, ALLUDES TO AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 8.4K ☾ ━━━ COMMISSIONED WORK! ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Accepted. One of the best things Y/n had read in a long time. Getting accepted into her top choice. She had applied on a whim, not thinking she would get in. When the letter came she was sure she was rejected. Especially since the art program was fairly good at the school and some had told her it was harder to get into. But here she was two years later. Now in her junior year and one of the top students in the program. Even if that meant sacrificing her social life for it.

The extent of Y/n’s interactions with her schoolmates was limited to projects. Pairing up with a couple of people in class and photographing the other majors with their permission. The campus itself was the perfect backdrop for every photo. Even out of class, she was photographing everything, getting people in the background too, just wanting to document the experience to show her family when she visited them.

Adjusting to not living with her family was a weird experience. Her family called and texted her every day for the first few months of her freshman year. Just making sure she was settling in alright. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, keeping to herself. So it was natural for her family to worry about her being on her own. Was it anxiety-inducing at first? Yes. But she’d settled in pretty well after a while.

College parties were never really her thing either. She’d focused on her projects and classes and voluntarily chose to miss other aspects of her college experience. Even with her family telling her it was okay to post once in a while. Parties, dating, making friends, all that she put aside.

But there was always a bug that crawled out of the woodwork and bit. And this one had to be around Halloween. Hyunjin— someone she was acquainted with from their sharing school art program — had invited her to his housemate's Halloween party. Probably since he was inviting everyone else in the class and didn’t want her to feel excluded.

At the time she just offered him a smile and said okay. Not planning on going at the time, maybe just staying in and watching horror movies. Her usual plans always seemed to work but for some reason, she decided to go. Maybe make a few friends too.

Y/n managed to find a costume that wasn’t super skimpy but was still cute enough to pass. She knew no one really took the holiday seriously in their early adult years and didn’t want to stand out too much. She got dressed the night of the party and walked down to the house the party was at. It wasn’t too far from the campus dormitories. Some people were out in front of the house whenever she walked up.

Anxiety about walking into a new place filled her. Especially with how packed it was. All the bodies just made the room even more hot too. She weaved her way through her crowd of drunk college students, not trying to be rude or anything. The bass from the speakers thumped against her skull as she made her way to the kitchen. Maybe a drink would calm her nerves a bit.

She managed to break free from the bodies and get to the alcohol. Red cups thrown about on the counter. She found the clean stack and searched for liquor and mixers. Debating the large variety the house had.

“Looking for something specific?” A voice showed over the music

She tore her gaze away from the alcohol and was met with a fit about her age. She had zero clue who he was in all honesty.

“No, just debating what sounds good right now,” She replied, still having to yell over the music

“I’m Jisung,” the guy introduced himself, holding his hand out to her

“I’m Y/n,” she shook his hand and ordered a small smile. Now she kind of knew one person here.

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

“This is not really my scene,” Y/n laughed as she grabbed a bottle of tequila. “I usually just keep to myself.”

“I feel it. This whole party was honestly my roommate's idea. I can’t escape if I wanted to,” Jisung laughed. “What’s your major?”

“I’m an art major, focusing on photography,” Y/n told him

“That’s cool! I’m a music major.”

It felt nice having someone to talk to here. Y/n began wondering what she was missing out on the last couple of years. She and Jisung talked for a few more moments till Jisung got dragged off and promised to come back in a few minutes. Y/n just nodded and sipped her drink. She stood off to the side, out of other people’s way. Waiting for her new friend to come back. She eventually started wandering through the party. Getting stopped and made some small talk with her classmates, making her way back to the kitchen for another drink when she finished hers. A couple more times throughout the night she talked to Jisung again and met a couple of his friends— Felix and Chan.

She rarely was ever drunk. She had a drink here and there. Had one or two when she went out with family members for dinner or something. Maybe it was the fact it did help ease her anxiety about the whole situation a bit. She felt more outgoing in the moment. Especially when she saw someone she had a small crush on.

Minho was popular— not that he wanted to be. He was very humble about his popularity. He was ninety percent sure it was because of his looks and maybe his skill as a dancer. All night— didn’t matter if he was talking with his friends or not— he’d been having drunk girls try and get at him. He was used to it but their level of intoxicity and their very outgoing way of trying to get him to bed was annoying him. He’d be happy if he could lock himself in his room for the night.

But here he was, talking with Changbin as yet another girl was approaching both of them. He could barely hear her over the music anyway but he mostly tuned out what he could. Telling his friend he was going to get another drink and then walking off. Not giving the drunk girl a chance to follow him.

Minho weaved his way through the crowd. Weaving between bodies since no one knew how to keep a path clear for others. Accidentally pumped a bit too hard into one girl as a guy took a step back into him.

“Sorry,” Minho said to the girl, having wrapped an arm around her so she didn’t fall. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Y/n said, suddenly every bit of her introverted self coming out again.

“You sure?” Minho asked

“Yes. Sorry!” Y/n replied, face feeling hot as his arm fell from her side, “I’m—”

She couldn’t do much to introduce herself when Minho was already walking off. She sighed and sipped her drink. Maybe a couple more drinks and she could try again. Maybe she should just save herself the embarrassment and go home. She could tell he wasn’t in the mood even if she had a few drinks in her system.

“Why the sad face?” Jisung’s voice came from next to her. Scaring her a bit

“Party is starting to be too much,” Y/n replied

“Hang here. I’ll grab you some water,” Jisung told her.

“Thanks…” Y/n said as he went off to the kitchen after grabbing her cup of alcohol from her.

Y/n stood in her spot, waiting for her new friend to come back. Jisung came back after a few minutes and handed her a bottle of water, opening the cap for her and handing it to her.

“Want to get some air too? I know it’s hot in here.”

“Yes please,” Y/n said and sipped the cold water.

Jisung led her out to the front yard and sat with her on a couple of unoccupied chairs. The cold air felt good after being in a stuffy house for so long. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” Y/n smiled

“No problem. I know it can all be too much sometimes,” Jisung replied. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I don’t want to bother you more. I can get home by myself. I live on campus anyways.”

“I’m not letting you walk back to campus this late!” Jisung protested, “Let me find one of my friends and let them know where I’m going.”

Before Y/n could say anything else, Jisung had already disappeared back into the house. She felt bad just getting up and leaving like she had originally planned. Instead, she patiently waited and sipped her water. Staying to get cold in the material of the costume.

Jisung came out of the house a few moments later. He helped her up and the two started walking down the street together. Y/n wrapped her arms around her to provide warmth from the autumn air.

“Are you cold?” Jisung asked

“I’ll be fine. It’s a short walk to the campus dormitory.”

“I should have grabbed a jacket when I went inside.”

“It’s fine. You walking me back is more than enough.”

The walk was mostly silent. The occasional talk about their classes and their day-to-day lives filled the night.

“Wait. You’ve been here for two years and haven’t made a single friend?” Jisung asked

“I didn’t have time to socialize. I honestly wasn’t planning to go to the party anyways…”

“Well, we’re friends now! Now you have one. Though I’m sure Felix considers you a friend. Even if you guys had one conversation tonight, he’ll still count it! And don’t you and Hyunjin in the art program together?”

“Yeah. I don’t really talk to people. I just do my work and if I'm in a group protection I'm still pretty quiet. Though I’m sure I’ve photographed everyone on campus at some point or another.”

“Ooh! You should show me your photos sometime! I want to see your work!” Jisung rambled

It felt nice to have somewhat of a friend now. Jisung made sure to walk her up to her dorm room and they two exchanged numbers as well before he started his walk back home and Y/n went into her dorm. She took a shower and put on her pajamas before crawling into bed.

Y/n carried on her day-to-day life after the Halloween party. Going to class, focusing on her assignments, and taking photos in the quad. Just now Jisung seemed to be popping up randomly.

“What are you taking photos of?” Jisung asked, sneaking up behind her

“Jesus!” Y/n half-yelled

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” He apologized

“It’s fine. Just not used to it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Just taking photos. I like capturing the campus scenery.” Y/n shrugged

“Can I see?”

“Sure…” Y/n hadn’t shown anyone except her teachers her photos before.

Y/n opened her camera’s library and turned the screen to him. Jisung took the camera from her hands and scrolled through the photos.

“I’m not a professional and barely know the first thing about pro photography but these are great!” Jisung complimented

“Thanks,” Y/n smiled, feeling proud of her work at that moment

“Oh! You have some of the dance crew!”

“Yeah. I joined the school paper on a whim this year and they have me photographing sports…”

“That’s why Felix said he recognized you at the party. Oh, there he is!”

Jisung spent the next few moments trying to find all the photos she had taken of his friend in her camera. “You even got good photos of Minho.”

“You know Minho?”

“Yeah. We share a room at the house.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide for a moment as she processed the information. She had somehow befriended one of her crush’s friends, let alone his roommate. Jisung seemed oblivious to her reaction. He handed her camera back to her with a smile. “You should come to my music group’s next performance and take photos of us! I’m sure Chan and Changbin would love it too!”

“Yeah. Just let me know when,” Y/n smiled

“I’ll text you! I’ve got to run to class before I’m late!”

Jisung took off before she could do anything. She just agreed to whatever he said, not fully processing it. She shook her head and looked at the time. She was done with her classes for the day but wasn’t quite ready to go back to her dorm. She sighed and went to the library to study for some of her classes.

She sat quietly at one of the library tables. Textbooks open as she scanned through and wrote down the important information she needed for her class. Her headphones were in as she listened to her music. The background noise helping keep her focused on her work.

Minho was also stuck in the library. Working on some homework. Anything was better than doing said work at home with seven other people to interrupt his peace. The campus library had been his safe space since he started and decided to get a house with his seven friends. Now he was in his last year of college and could get away from all this soon.

He wasn’t getting away from Jisung though. Even in the quiet library, he wasn’t safe from his best friend.

“There you are,” Jisung quietly said and took a seat next to his friend.

“I need a better hiding spot,” Minho sarcastically told his friend

“You’re in a better mood.”

“I’m not getting hounded today.”

“Explains a lot.” Jisung shrugged and took out his homework

The two fell into silence until Jisung became a bit bored and poked his friend. It was soon stopped by a glare and a quick apology. The younger one laid his head on the table and then looked around the library. “Do you know Y/n?” Jisung suddenly asked

“Who?” Minho asked

“She’s in the school paper. She’s photographed the dance team. Figured you might have met her, Felix has.”

“Are you comparing me to Felix?” Minho asked

“No, but I was curious. She doesn’t have many friends. I invited her to the next 3RACHA performance.”

“You’re trying to get her more friends, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been the kid with no friends before so I kind of feel bad.”

“I remember when you were trying to fight everyone in the house for the smallest things.”

“I’m a changed man.”

“Because of Chan.”

Jisung didn’t disagree with him as Minho finished up his homework. Jisung had given up on finishing his and took out his phone. Replying to some text messages he had. Y/n was one of the people he had texted.

Jisung: 3Racha has a performance this weekend! It’s at Miroh!

Y/n looked at the text message on her screen. She figured out what Jisung was attempting to do since the Halloween party and claimed they were friends. She was grateful he was trying to break her out of her shell and she couldn’t exactly come up with an excuse either. She had also processed that he had asked her to photograph them at their performance earlier in the day. And she agreed to it.

Y/n: Where’s that at? :’( Jisung: You haven’t been to Miroh before?? Y/n: No. I don’t have friends and I’m terrified of going places by myself Jisung: How about I pick you up then? You can ride with me and my friends then hang out with them while I’m up on stage Y/n: Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude… Jisung: Yeah! The guys won’t mind. Oh! Since you’re in the library, come over and meet Minho! He’ll be there too so you won’t just have Felix when me, chan and changbin are on stage Y/n: How do you know I’m in the library?? Jisung: I came in to annoy Minho and try and do homework and saw you when I walked in. You had your headphones on so I didn’t say anything Y/n: oh

Y/n had finished her work and was just packing up when she saw the message from Jisung. She finished packing her things up when she looked around for Jisung. Seeing him standing at a table with Minho. After the party and her run-in with the dancer, she wasn’t hopeful it would go well. She could barely even think of just getting up and leaving when the music major spotted her and made his way over to her. His friend following not far behind

“Did you just finish?” Jisung asked her

“Yeah. Did you even work or just talk to people?”

“Bit of both,” Jisung shrugged as the dancer walked up behind him, “This is Minho. Min, this is Y/n.”

“Hi,” Y/n timidly said

“Hey,” Minho greeted back

Minho recognized her from the Halloween party. He had seen her in the dance studio with a camera a couple of times. He just never knew her name.

The trio walked out of the library together and Y/n said goodbye to the two and made her way back to her dorm hall. The two boys went off to head back to their home. Jisung filled in Minho that they were picking up Y/n and giving her a ride to Miroh over the weekend. The older man nodded in agreement.

When the day of the performance came Y/n offered to meet Jisung at his house so it was one less stop for the group. At first, Jisung protested on her walking down but she told him she was already on her way down. She was a bit nervous about the whole outing so the walk helped clear her head a bit. By the time she got to the house the group was outside already, Jisung introduced her to everyone she didn’t know yet before the group went back to their previous discussion of the car assignments, and how they were getting nine people there.

“Take three cars, three people in each car,” Chan said which the guys all seemed to agree with

It was decided Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin would drive/be DDs for the group. Seungmin and Changbin rode with Chan. Jeongin and Felix took Hyunjin’s car while Han and Y/n were with Minho. Y/n took the backseat of the car while Minho and Jisung were in the front. The bar was about a twenty-minute drive from the house. Y/n stayed pretty quiet in the back of the car while music played. The two friends in the front talked a little and tried including Y/n. She appreciated it and it helped her nerves a little till they finally got to the bar.

The group managed to find parking spots pretty close together and headed into the bar. The rap group still had some time before they had to perform. A few of the guys took orders and grabbed some drinks from the bar while the others found a couple of tables and pushed them together. Minho had pulled a seat out for Y/n and motioned for her to sit. Hesitantly she sat down with the rest of the group.

The performers themselves talked about their performance as the rest of the group came back with drinks. Making sure everyone got the right drink. Everyone settled in with their drinks and waited for the performance to start.

Y/n felt out of place amongst the friends, even when they did include her in the conversation. Her life just seemed boring compared to the others. They all had some interesting lives or things that were big going on with their majors. 3Racha was about to perform, the dance members— Minho, Felix, and Hyunjin (whom she learned only minored in the art program and was a dance major)— had some competitions for the school and outside of the school coming up. Seungmin— a law major— had won another debate and Jeongin— an education major— was going to be working at a daycare over the summer. Y/n felt like she had nothing going on. Just some photos no one would probably look at.

As soon as the boys were called to the stage, Y/n grabbed her camera from her bag and made sure all her settings were good. “Are you going up to the stage?” Minho asked next to her

“Yeah. If it’s not too crowded,” Y/n said

“Do you want me to go with you?” Minho questioned

“Oh! We should all go up!” Felix suggested

“They can feel our support from back here,” Seungmin interjected

“Then stay here,” Hyunjin said

Jeongin and Seungmin stayed at the tables while she, Felix, Minho, and Hyunjin went up to the stage. Felix and Hyunjin mainly went to be the hype men for their friends while Minho stayed close to Y/n so no one got in the way of the photos. Y/n felt more anxious with Minho standing close by. She had barely talked to him since his demeanor at the Halloween party.

She did her best not to let it get to her as she got her photos. She didn’t know what to expect from the music group. She had heard the name 3Racha before around campus but seeing them perform was a different scenario. She did enjoy the music and got some pretty good shots from the performance. She only saw how good they were when she sat back at the table after the show.

The group congratulated them on the show. Jisung asked to see the photos as soon as she sat down with them. Y/n let him go through them and show them around the table. She felt flustered when everyone gave her props for her work, even though it wasn’t edited yet.

The group stayed for a few more hours at the bar, enjoying the other performances and some drinks. They all ended up calling it a night. Minho and Jisung took Y/n back to the campus dorms before going back to their home

“What do you think of Y/n?” Jisung asked his roommate on the drive back

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Minho answered

“You probably scare her.”

“You know, one day you might not wake up.”

Minho knew she was shy from what Jisung had told him and what he had observed. He knew he could be a little intimidating at times but he felt bad he had given her that impression.

Jisung on the other hand was curious. Pulling his phone from his pocket and texting his new friend.

Jisung: Do you like Minho? Y/n: What?? Jisung: Like as a friend. He thinks you’re scared of him Y/n: oh Yeah? Idk? Jisung: ?? Y/n: He bumped into me at the Halloween party before you got me water. He seemed kind of annoyed when I went to introduce myself so I didn’t think he liked me very much… Which I don’t expect him to. Ik he’s popular and there are more interesting people than me Jisung: oh, he was annoyed the whole party. I promise it wasn’t bc of you. If anything it was all the drunk girls trying to sleep with him Y/n: idk :( I had a few drinks too… maybe he just saw another drunk girl then… Jisung: you were not THAT drunk. You could still walk and form words lol Y/n: I still think he doesn’t like me very much Jisung: and he thinks you don’t like him very much Y/n: I don’t! He just makes me a bit nervous Jisung: oh, you like like min ;) Y/n: so does every girl on campus :( I’m not special

Jisung knew something would come about. If someone didn’t like Minho, he didn’t care much. So Jisung knew his friends' thoughts and feelings the moment he said that Y/n didn’t seem to like him very much. He didn’t that night plotting.

No matter how much plotting he did, he knew his friends were idiots. He’d do everything but lock them in a room together. He told the rest of the house about Y/n’s lack of friends and what he suspected was anxiety about making them but he wasn’t sure.

The group always offered to include her in things and sometimes she did accept the offers. Over time she started to feel like more of a friend to them and less of an intrusion. She still kept quiet about ninety percent of the time though.

She’d given 3Racha the photos she had taken, fully edited, and let them do what they wanted with them. Jisung told her a lot of people on campus loved the photos when they put them on their social media which gave her somewhat of an ego for a few moments.

Minho didn’t know exactly what Jisung was plotting but he did know his friend had been acting differently since the day after their performance. He could corner him and ask but he couldn’t complain too much now.

He’d refuse to admit it to anyone— except maybe Chan — but he was glad Jisung was bringing Y/n around more. He thought she was cute when his younger friend had officially introduced them in the library. He had barely spared her much of a glance at the party. Maybe if he did she wouldn’t be too scared of him. But now, after a few months, that dislike or whatever was disappearing.

He’d catch her around campus and go out of his way to say hi and ask her about her day. Minho appreciated that she didn’t try and flirt with him like the rest of the girls on campus. He could be himself.

Currently, he was in the school's quad with her. He spotted her looking at her camera and chose to keep her company.

“What are you taking photos of?” He asked as he walked up and took a seat next to her on the bench

Y/n offered him a smile, “Whatever interests me today.”

“So the usual?” he joked

“Pretty much.” Y/n agreed

Minho smiled as she got up and stepped a few feet away, spotting something to photograph. Minho took out his phone after a few moments and responded to a few messages he had disregarded earlier. Y/n was taking photos of some of the flowers that were planted. She turned around once she snapped a few and looked at Minho.

He seemed ignorant to her turning around and the sun was hitting all his angles perfectly. She focused her lens on him and snapped a couple of photos. Slowly Minho looked up at her, hearing the camera shutter as she took the photos.

“When did I become your model?” Minho asked as she pulled away from the viewfinder

“You’ve been my model before,” Y/n defended

“I don’t think I’m dancing right now,” Minho told her

“No, but it was a good photo opportunity.”

“Let me see.”

Y/n walked back to him and handed him the camera. Minho took the camera and looked through the photos she had taken of him before getting out of the photos and going back to the camera. He sat up, held up the viewfinder, and snapped a photo before Y/n realized what he was doing. Once she processed it while he snapped a few more, she moved to grab the camera from him.

“Hey!” Y/n said grabbing her camera.

Minho chuckled as she took her seat back next to him. “Let me see my work,” he said between laughs

“No,” Y/n said as she went to look over at the photos. Minho just looked over her shoulder before she could delete the photos.

“I did a good job,” Minho said. “You look good too. Very photographic.”

“Don’t lie,” Y/n grumbled as she deleted the photos and tried to hide her flushed face from him

“I’m not lying,” Minho told her. “You look good. In and out of the photos.”

Y/n hesitated to delete the last photo. Minho did take a good photo of her. She couldn’t deny that.

“What are you doing later?” Minho asked, watching her hesitate, and stopped looking over her shoulder.

“Probably nothing. Maybe homework,” Y/n answered and shut her camera off. Packing it up in her camera bag

“Do you want to get takeout and come over instead? I can kick Ji out.”

Y/n turned to look at him. Ninety-nine percent sure she was hallucinating what he just said. “Huh?” she asked

“Do you want to come over after you’re last class? Order food or I can cook,” Minho repeated

“I— just us?”

“I mean, I’m sure someone else will be at the house but ideally, yeah. Just us.”

“Like, like a date?” Y/n asked, scared but hopeful at the same time

“Yeah.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re out of my league?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Minho smirked, “Come over for dinner. I’ll kick the others out of the house.”

“O-okay,” Y/n agreed

“When’s your last class?”

“I don’t have any more classes. I have all morning classes.”

“Come on. We can go shopping for ingredients.” Minho stood and adjusted the bag on his shoulder

“I don’t want to make you cook,” Y/n closed up her bag and stood with him, gathering the rest of her things.

“I like cooking. Come on,” Minho said

Y/n walked with him to the parking lot. Minho opened the door for her before getting in his side of the car. The two drove down to the supermarket while Minho questioned her on what she wanted to eat.

She was wondering why Lee Minho would ask her out. Or offer to cook for her. Her brain seemed to just go into autopilot for responses. In the store, she stayed close to the dancer. She was trying to stay out of other people’s way and helping with grabbing ingredients. Even if he protested she didn’t need to. It was the least she could do.

When they checked out, Y/n felt more at ease as they drove back to the house. Minho had made sure to text his friends to either not corner them or not come home. They even seemed a bit shocked at this development but ultimately Chan offered to take the other six out for dinner which the younger ones graciously accepted.

“Do you want any help?” Y/n asked after they— mostly Minho— carried in their shopping bags from the car and set them on the counter.

“No. I got it covered,” Minho said and took his bag to his room. Y/n quietly sat at the bar and took out the homework she had planned to do.

Minho came back after a few moments to find her doing the work he took her away from. He smiled to himself as he got to work. Washing his hands and starting to cook. He would occasionally look over at her to check on her and ask her how her work was going.

Y/n was honestly barely focusing on her work— she’d done most of it earlier anyway. She was watching Minho cook. He seemed a natural in the kitchen. Moved with ease, just like he was dancing.

“How come you didn’t go to culinary school?” Y/n asked

“Dance is what I’m passionate about. Cooking is just something I like doing for my friends. Plus I’m good at it.”

“How good?” Y/n asked

“You’ll see,” Minho smiled back at her, “Finish your homework. You won’t graduate if you don’t.”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/n told him

“Homework.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes and turned back to her homework while he cooked. Both taking moments to watch the other one work. Y/n finished up her last boy off work and put away her things. Patiently waiting for Minho to finish, not knowing what to do now.

She just admired him working. He moved around the kitchen with ease, even when he plated the food. Y/n smiled as he set the food in front of her and thanked him. Minho smiled and sat down next to her at the bar. Y/n took a bite of the food and looked at him. “You should be a chef!” Y/n exclaimed

Minho just smiled as he started eating. Y/n enjoyed probably the best meal she had had since she left home for college. She felt more relaxed than ever around Minho. She had forgotten for a moment that this was technically a date. It just felt natural to hang out with him now. Even if he didn’t give her the best impression when they had first met. He was trying now even if he didn’t know at first.

Y/n did find it weird— being the best word she could use to describe the feeling— when one of the more popular guys that everyone seemed to like was with her during their free time. They weren’t official but they were together often. Whether it was by themselves or with the rest of their friends. The rest of Minho’s housemates all knew before they did things would be official eventually.

“Did I scare you when we first met?” Minho asked her as they were lying in her dorm bed, her roommate gone for the weekend.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked

“You just seemed scared of me when Ji introduced us,” Minho explained

“You didn’t scare me,” Y/n said, cuddling into him. Winter was setting in now and he had become her personal heater. “Just when you bumped into me at the Halloween party you seemed annoyed when I tried talking to you…”

“That was you?” Minho asked

“Yeah…”

“I was annoyed that night but not because of you,” Minho told her, wrapping his arms around her tighter.

“I don’t blame you. I’m pretty boring…”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m an art major Min. It’s not really a useful career. Sometimes I wonder why you talk to me or even ask me on dates to begin with.”

“Because I like being around you. You’re easy to be around and I like your creativity.”

“You don’t want someone more in your league? Prettier? Cooler?”

“You’re prettier and cooler than you give yourself credit for,” Minho told her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’d be happy to call you my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?!” Y/n’s head shot up and looked at him

“Yeah. I want you to be my girlfriend.” Minho chuckled

Y/n’s face flushed. She had guessed it would eventually get to here but now that the words had left his lips she was at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Y/n nodded her head as Minho laughed. Resting his head on her forehead, “Is that a yes to being my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Y/n quietly said.

Minho smiled and placed a peck on her lips. The kiss was too fast for Y/n. She watched her boyfriend’s reaction to him pulling away then pressed another kiss to her lips. Giving her time to return the affection.

Y/n moved her lips with his before he pulled away again. “You’re a good kisser kitten.”

“Kitten?”

“Yeah. My kitten.”

Minho wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close to his chest. That’s how they stayed for the weekend. Cuddled up together and only pulled away to use the bathroom or get food. Y/n felt like she was on cloud nine with Minho. He walked her to her classes when he had the time and made her any food she asked for. Even when he joked and appeared he didn’t want to. He was always doing things for her. And Y/n never felt happier in the last month of them being together.

“Want to spend the night this weekend ?” Minho asked his girlfriend after walking her to her last class, “Ji’s going to his parent’s house for the weekend so I don’t have to kick him out.”

“The others won’t mind?” Y/n asked

“No. As long as you don’t mind the guys being obnoxiously loud while we’re locked in my room avoiding them,” Minho smiled

“Okay,” Y/n smiled back

“I’ll see you after class,” Minho told her and picked her lips.

Y/n watched her boyfriend walk down the hallway to his class and entered her own. Now, a little too excited for her class to end. She was ready to bolt out of her class as they were dismissed. She tried giving her boyfriend time to get back to her classroom but she still managed to get out before him.

She waited outside her class for him. Leaning against the wall till he snuck up to her and wrapped his kissed her forehead. Y/n looked at her boyfriend, “Hi.”

“Hey. How was class?” He asked as he took her hand. Heading to her dorm so she could grab a few things before heading down to the house.

Minho sat in her desk chair while she packed a small bag, looking at her photos on her wall. A thought crossed his mind as he picked up her smaller digital camera.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked

Minho smiled at her and took a quick photo of her packing her bag. Y/n looked over at him as she heard the shutter click. “Min.”

“I didn’t do it,” Minho told her and took another photo of her.

“I’m never going to win with you, am I?”

“No.”

Y/n shook her head and finished packing her bag. Having to drag her boyfriend from her dorm and to the car. Minho put her things in the backseat and then drove them to his home. Some of the guys were home when they arrived. Y/n said hi to them as Minho pulled her up the stairs to his room. Y/n set her bag down at the foot of his bed as the dancer sat on his bed, pulling her to him and laying back with her.

“Hungry at all?” Minho asked

“No. My boyfriend keeps me nice and full,” Y/n told him as she wrapped her arms around him. Minho smiled and turned on the TV he and Jisung had in their room. Turning on a show the two had talked about watching, casually laying in the bed till Jisung came in to grab something.

“Oh good, you guys aren’t doing anything weird,” Jisung teased as he opened the door

Y/n hid her face in her boyfriend’s chest as Minho glared at his roommate. Y/n focused on the TV as Jisung packed a bag and then said goodbye to the couple, shutting the door behind him.

“Embarrassed kitten?” Minho asked

“A little. What if Ji did walk in while we were doing something? Not that we have done anything but…”

“If we were I would have locked the door. I wouldn’t put you in that position. Have you thought about going further?” Minho explained

“Yeah…”

Minho sat up with her, in a better position to have a more serious conversation. Y/n felt shy about the topic of sex. She didn’t have much experience and she only guessed Minho had more than her. “Look at me, babe?” Minho asked

Y/n hesitantly made eye contact with him for the duration of their conversation. The couple spent maybe an hour talking about their history— she was right about Minho having more experience than her— and protection. Minho made sure Y/n felt completely comfortable as they talked about the next steps in their relationship. Only having gone as far as a few heated make-out sessions. Minho never rushed her with anything which just made her fall for him more.

Maybe that comfort was how the bedroom door ended up locked and Minho was gripping her ass over her jeans while she was sitting on his lap, both their tongues fighting for dominance. Both of them moaned as Y/n gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. Minho used his grip on her backside to pull her closer to him, almost tipping them back on the bed. The dancer chuckled when she made a surprised noise before pulling away and attaching his lips to her neck.

“Min,” Y/n breathed out, fingers dragging up into his hair more.

“Look so good on my lap kitten,” Minho said as his lips roamed all over her neck, biting a couple of patches of skin lightly

Y/n bucked her hips against him when he did nibble on her skin. The slight pinch shot straight to her core. The roll of her hold made the male below her groan and she could feel something poking her from below.

Seconds later Minho had her on her back and kissed down her body. His hands moved to take hold of the low waistband of her jeans. “Can I?” Minho asked

“Please,” Y/n said, lifting her hips for him

Minho smiled and unbuttoned her pants, pulling the fabric down and tossing it to the side. Y/n pressed her thighs together, suddenly a little embarrassed being half-naked in front of him. Minho noticed and placed a kiss on each of her thighs and her hips, gently pulling her legs apart before settling between them. Y/n watched as he put her legs over his shoulders and pressed a few kisses to her clothed core. Y/n bit her bottom lip as she watched her boyfriend kiss and lick her through the fabric before he pulled away and pulled the fabric off her legs, tossing them to the floor with her bottoms.

Minho readjusted them, grabbing her hands and intertwining their fingers. “Anyone ever take care of you, kitten?”

“No…” Y/n admitted as he pressed a kiss to her clit

Minho hummed then licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, wrapping his lips around the bud. Y/n moaned as he sucked on the little bud. She gripped his hands as he switched between sucking on her clit and licking the bud with his tongue. Y/n gasped when she felt his tongue dip into her, back arching off his mattress as he moved the muscle in and out of her.

His hands left her and grabbed the tops of her thighs. Holding her legs over his shoulders as he ate her out. Y/n grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand, making him moan into her. Y/n had to cover her mouth so none of the others would hear her. It got harder to hide them as the knot in her stomach kept tightening and tightening until it snapped.

The photographer gasped as her hips rocked against his face. Minho held her against him as he helped her through the high. Not stopping till he had her cleaned up and her grip on his hair loosened. He pulled away, put her legs back on the bed, and sat up on his knees. Wrong off any excess liquid with the back of his hand.

Y/n caught her breath again as Minho threw off his t-shirt letting it join her bottoms on the ground. Y/n took in the sight up his upper torso, just by his arms she knew her boyfriend was toned but seeing his chest and abs, whew.

“What you staring at kitten?” Minho teased as he crawled over her, caging her in with his arms.

“My hot boyfriend,” Y/n responded as she ran her fingers down his front and hooked them around his belt.

“Not so shy anymore,” Minho smiled as he leaned down to kiss her neck again.

Y/n hummed as she undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then unbuttoning his jeans. Meanwhile, Minho used one hand to push her shirt up. The two worked as best they could undressing each other. Once they finally got the rest of their clothes off and onto the floor, Y/n wrapped her hand around his cock. Minho moaned as she slowly stroked him, one hand of his having taken hold of her breasts. Groping the flesh as his lips worked their way down to the other.

Minho wasn’t trying to hide his moans like Y/n was. He’d heard all his friends before and he was sure they had heard him before so none of it mattered to him. But knowing his girlfriend, he tried not to be too loud and embarrass her. Not that any of the guys would tease them if they knew what was good for them.

His hand that was on her boob moved down and his thumb ran over her sensitive clit. His head came up from her chest just in time to see her tilt her head back in pleasure. Minho leaned into her neck and kissed the skin, making sure to leave his mark on her. Y/n moaned as he sucked on her skin while he circled her clit. Their stroke paces fell in sync, one would pick up their speed and then the other would follow suit.

Y/n managed to pull his lips from her neck up to her mouth. Kissing him to drown out her moans as her hips rocked against his hand. Minho matched her strokes with his hips. Thrusting into her hand as his orgasm approached. Her grip tightened as her second high approached her, taking over her body seconds later. Minho thrusted into her hand as he worked her through her high. His cum shot onto her lower stomach as she came down from her second high.

“Sorry,” Mino apologized as he came down from his orgasm

“‘S okay,” Y/n told him. “It was hot.”

Minho hummed as he sat up, looking down at her. “You look good with my cum on you.”

“Should take a picture,” Y/n said

“Want me to?” Minho questioned

“Camera’s in my bag.”

Minho moved and grabbed her bag from the foot of his bed, quickly finding her camera and getting back in his position. Her legs rested over his thighs as he pointed the camera lens down at her stomach. Catching her wet cunt as well and his dick laying between her legs. Y/n watched the flash go off before he pulled the camera away from his face. Minho leaned down and pecked her lips.

“Want to keep going, kitten?” Minho asked

“Yes,” Y/n answered. “Can I… ride you?” She asked as he leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed a condom.

“My kitty wants to ride me?” He teased as he closed the drawer.

“Please…”

Minho didn’t say anything before flipping their position. He placed her on his lower stomach and handed her the condom. Y/n took the foil from his hand and sat up on her knees. She scooted back a bit as she opened the wrapper and took out the rubber. Y/n jerked her boyfriend’s dick again until he was erect again, then slid on the rubber.

Minho held her hips as she positioned herself above him. She kept his cock steady till the tip was inside her. Moaning as she placed her hands on his waist while she sank onto him. The dancer helped her ease down onto him. He gave her a second once he was fully inside her, keeping a hold on her hips. Y/n sat up straight and held her boyfriend’s wrists and looked down at him. She noticed the light layer of sweat that was covering his body. She found her camera on the bed and held it up to her face.

She snapped a photo of her boyfriend. Minho smiled before taking the camera from her hands. Y/n clenched around her boyfriend as he pointed the camera at her. Minho snapped a photo as she started rolling her hips back and forth. Her hands pressed to his chest to stabilize herself.

Minho took a couple of photos of her and then put the camera to the side again. The dancer planted his feet on the bed and held her hips, slowly starting to bounce her on him. Y/n used her position to lift herself so her boyfriend wasn’t doing all the work.

Minho’s hands moved back and gripped her ass as she rode him. Tilting his head back in pleasure as her walls pulsed around him. Y/n took the chance to lay on his chest and suck her own marks onto his skin. Minho happily let her do so as he lifted his hips and started thrusting into her.

Y/n moaned against his skin as he thrusted into her. Accidently biting down a little harder on his neck when his tip found the spongy spot inside her and hit it dead on.

“Fuck,” Minho moaned, wrapping his arms around her and holding her down on his chest

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled as she kissed the spot

“Don’t. Felt good,” Minho told her as his pace picked up

Y/n moaned as he aimed for the spot again. Hiding away in her boyfriend's neck as her walls clenched around him. She tried rolling her hips to keep up with his pace but she was far slower than him, though she still tried.

The knot was tightening far too quickly in her stomach this time. Each thrust felt like the next would make her cum again. She did her best to hold out but she couldn’t. Her walls spasmed around Minho’s cock. The dance held onto her as her body shook on top of him. Fucking her through the high before his took over. Burying himself into her and letting his cum fill up the rubber.

“Fuck,” both groaned as they caught their breaths

Y/n sat up and looked at her boyfriend's neck. Not realizing how many marks she had left on him — she could only imagine what hers looked like. She ran her thumb over the front of his neck before grabbing her camera again and taking a photo.

Minho chuckled at her before helping her off his cock and laying her on the bed. Y/n smiled as she watched him toss the condom then put on his boxers and leave the room. She looked over three photos they had taken before he came back with a washcloth and cleaned her up.

“Everyone’s in their rooms, wanna go take a shower?” Minho asked

“Yes please,” Y/n agreed.

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recareels · 1 year ago

Text

something ‘bout you

character: professor!alhaitham

genre: smut ; modern university au set in teyvat

notes: waaaah it’s finally finished!!! i have no idea how this piece got to be as long as it did but alas, here we are. this has got to be the longest blow job i’ve ever written ehehehe. as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: dangerous woman by ariana grande

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, praise, professor/graduate student relationship, sir kink, face fucking, cum swallowing, a teeny tiny bit of manipulation, lying via omission, reader is a film and linguistics student, a bit of academic jargon but nothing crazy or crucial, dom/sub dynamics

words: 8k

synopsis:

Your hand moves entirely of its own accord, touch tiptoeing up his thigh in invitation, inching toward the half-hard lump in his trousers. He catches your wrist just before you reach his cock, slim fingers braceletting your arm and squeezing once in warning. “Are you sure you want to go down this path, sweetheart?” Hooded teal observes you closely, irises shaded into a deep navy, glimmering under the chandelier lights. The question drips from his lips in a dark, decadent murmur, simultaneously an enticement and a warning, his thumb idly stroking your skin as he awaits your response—an action that brings some semblance of comfort, despite the dangerous thrill sparkling in his eye. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Despite speaking to him for the duration of the night, you don’t know this man—don’t know his rank in the department or his status among his peers and how that may impact you in the future. On all accounts, it most definitely is not a good idea. He seems to know so, too, if his timbre of caution is anything to go by, but that ray in his eye flares, begging you to say yes. “I want you,” you admit instead.

The banquet hall is small yet elegant, beige walls warmed by the fuchsia beams of the setting sun, streaming in thick strips through the floor-to-ceiling crystal windows. Silverware clinks delicately against fine china, glass champagne flutes clacking with front teeth as lips wrap around the edges, daintily mingling with the soft murmur of voices blanketing the room.

Such is the life of a University of Sumeru elite.

Classes don’t officially begin until Monday, but the entire graduate faculty of the Department of Linguistics had been invited to a prefatory mixer held at one of the grand hotels in the city.

It is a long-standing tradition, the email invite had informed you, that the professors and supervisors of the department throw the graduate students—new and old—an intimate yet extravagant start-of-the-year dinner.

It’s mostly meant for new students—only five accepted into the program per year—to introduce themselves to their colleagues and supervisors, becoming familiar with the faces they’ll be seeing for the next one-to-five years of their lives.

You had been special enough to receive an acceptance letter into the PhD program, travelling from your Masters program in Liyue to the city of Sumeru to study under some of the most renowned scholars of the subject.

And so now you stand, lingering near the immaculately organized table of hors d’oeuvres and fidgeting with the crystal flute between your palms, index finger absentmindedly tracing the rim as eager, interested eyes sweep across the room again, soaking up the atmosphere.

You have worked so hard to get here, to get to this point, to stand in this room with the gilt-edged supremes of the scholastic world and be one of them—a part of this exclusive, highly-coveted club composed of the outstanding, the superior, the royals of academia.

A large, smooth hand yanks you, rough and abrupt, from your appreciative daydream, blinking rapidly as you stare up at the man who is unexpectedly talking to you—talking at you—as if he knows you well, already mid-sentence about the legend of King Deshret by the time your shock dissipates, concentration tuning into his frequency.

“—And that’s why he went mad.”

Teal eyes hold yours, steady and intent and willing you not to look away, the fingers wrapped firmly around your bicep flexing the moment your stare begins to stray, watching through your peripheral vision as a man with white hair and rust eyes passes by, features set in hard stone.

It is only after the man is out of earshot that your captor relaxes, fingers loosening but not fully releasing their grip on your flesh.

“Thanks for that,” he says, suddenly sounding disinterested and distracted, gaze flitting around the room.

“Was that true?”

“What?” he looks back over at you, as if he’s surprised you just spoke to him.

“Was that true?” you repeat. “I thought that since Nabu Malikata had warned him of the repercussions of the ritual prior to them performing it that he knew she’d die—that he knew she had chosen to die—and went mad with guilt due to him choosing his own selfish desires over the love of his life.”

He shakes his head, swallowing a mouthful of his scotch. “A common misconception, often due to mistranslations and the incorrigible feelings of the translators themselves. Romantics, you know,” he shrugs, head tilting as he observes you, bright yet sharp eyes studying your face in slow, excruciating detail, as he he’s trying to divest your thoughts through your features. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around the department before.”

Razored teal glints like a scalpel as it attempts to dissect you, his scintillating gaze carefully shaving away at any pretences.

“I am,” you confirm with a nod, struggling to suppress the pride tugging at the corners of your lips as you introduce yourself. “One of the three lucky souls to have been accepted as a PhD Candidate.”

“Nice to meet you,” the man murmurs, giving your arm another little squeeze in greeting before finally releasing it. “I’m Haitham. Alhaitham, if you want to be formal, but Haitham is fine.”

His body relaxes, shoulders no longer pinched, muscles no longer coiled as he gets more comfortable, leaning against a large column, his stance becoming permanent.

“So, tell me. Where did you complete your Masters?”

Your heart thumps against your ribs, pushing hard breath up your throat, nerves suddenly buzzing beneath the swelter of his intense stare, fighting the urge to shrink away from his fulgurous attention.

“Liyue,” you say. “I studied under the guidance of Professor Zhongli.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow in lazy intrigue, notes of condescension glazing his tone, a small smirk adoring his lips. “That’s impressive.”

“You know him?”

“Everybody in the academic world knows him, sweetheart. I’m sure you know that, as well.”

Bashful heat seeps into your cheeks, tingling little pinpricks of embarrassment sprouting beneath your skin.

“Well, I just—”

“Please,” Alhaitham cuts your off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The man is a master in several subjects; there’s not a chance anyone who is a true scholar hasn’t encountered and studied his work. What did you study beneath him?”

“Um,” you begin, wincing at how idiotic it sounds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. “I wrote my thesis under his supervision. During my undergrad I majored in linguistics and specialized in cinema studies, so naturally my thesis aimed at analyzing and dissecting the role and importance of language in film—more specifically, how particular language conveys meaning and impacts the psychology of the viewer, as well as how particular language influences, dictates and affects the way a viewer derives meaning from the piece.”

“Wow,” Alhaitham breathes, and for the first time tonight he sounds genuinely impressed, sincerely interested, notes of intrigue imbuing his tone. “I’d love to read it, if you’ll allow me.”

“Of course,” you preen, the pressure on your lungs letting up a little beneath his praise. “It took me nearly two years to complete, and under Professor Zhongli’s supervision I was even able to conduct field studies and experiments to gather information and data.”

“Is that so?” his smirk grows into a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with supercilious amusement. “Like what?”

“As I’m sure you’re well aware of, how a certain character speaks and the words they use says a lot about who they are and where they hail from, but that’s only half the equation. The other half depends on the viewer themselves—their own background, upbringing, experiences, beliefs, and intelligence all influence the way they will perceive and derive meaning from an individual film. The research concluded that, based on these factors, two individuals from separate classes more often than not arrive at substantially different meanings of the information provided from the same film.”

“Well done,” he murmurs, appreciative, and you can’t help but glow beneath his words, his commendation a beam of nurturing sunlight, drawing you closer to his heat.

“Thank you,” you say, bowing your head respectfully. “And what about you? Are you a student?”

He laughs, bright and warm, almost as if your mistake is cute.

“No, no, I am a Professor.”

“What do you teach?”

“Syntactic Patterns in Ancient Runes, and Advanced Morphology,” he says easily. “Speaking of which, will you be TAing any classes this year?”

“I will! Though I have not yet been approved to teach my own class, only tutorials for the first years. Understandable, I guess, since I’m a new student and all.”

Your disappointment is palpable, hanging thick and heavy in the air, and his demeanour softens a little, a warm hand clasping over your shoulder.

“Cheer up,” he says. “I’m positive they’ll give you your own lecture the moment you hit your third year—those positions are usually reserved to upper-year PhD’s.” The tips of his fingers press into your muscles in a comforting massage, and you can’t help but lean into his touch a little, body deliquescing. “Which class will you be TAing for?”

“Intro to Linguistics: Sentence Structure and Meaning,” you make a face, the thought sobering you slightly. “By the way, would you happen to know who’s teaching that class this year? There’s no professor listed on the website yet, but if they’re here I’d love to introduce myself.”

Something darkens his eyes, his smile turned wolfish, a shock of unease unravelling slow and sticky in the pit of your belly.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” he says dismissively, though there’s a shard of something submerged in teal irises, sharp and dangerous, glimmering beneath crystal lights. “He’s a jackass anyway. Antisocial, selfish, you know the type. Introducing yourself to him wouldn’t make much of a difference—he isn’t a fan of those overeager polite types, not unless they’re genuine.”

“Oh,” you frown, deflating a little, ignoring the ice prickling at the base of your spine. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to be on good terms with him.”

“I don’t think anyone’s on good terms with him,” Alhaitham mutters dryly, eyes narrowing as they sweep across the room, almost accusing in manner. “But who knows,” he says as he looks back at you, hard gaze palliating just a touch. “You might be the one to change that.”

Confusion sprouts across your face, features crinkling as you draw in a breath to inquire, but a booming voice cuts you off, briskly announcing that it is time for dinner and requesting everyone take their seats.

“Here,” Alhaitham murmurs as slim fingers cuff your wrist, leading you. “Come sit with me.”

The dinner is several courses long, but you hardly remember any of them, too caught up in teal eyes and a velvet voice, in the hand that has found it’s way onto you knee, thumb stroking the bone in rhythmic motions through your tights, in the ankles currently tangled around your own, tightening every so often and hauling you a little bit closer—any time you say something that procures that amused little sound, playing on the back of his tongue; any time you say something that raises his brows and leaves his eyes shimmering, head tilted cutely in curious study.

The conversation flows seamlessly as the night passes, as servers bring and remove plates, as guests mingle around the ballroom, arriving to and departing from your table—but the two of you don’t dare move an inch, entirely captivated by your intimate discussion; heads bowed, legs locked, words murmured between the steadily dissipating space between your mouths.

He tells you about his most recent excavation into the long lost tomb of a prince, about the runes he found intricately engraved on the gorgeous sarcophagus, about what they said and how they fit into his most recent collection of essays—highly coveted information, he had mentioned, sure to note he hadn’t told anyone about this; not until tonight, not until you, his voice taking on a slight air of incredulity, as if he can’t believe he just revealed such information so easily.

You tell him about the research Zhongli personally funded after you were nearly expelled from the program for sneaking into the film reel archives despite being explicitly denied access—all in the pursuit of knowledge, of course, you had bristled with a roll of your eyes, insisting that such important pieces should not be so inaccessible to scholars—and of the many trips your valued Professor took you on, traversing film festivals across the whole of Inazuma.

He tells you about his childhood in Sumeru, about what got him interested in semiotics and linguistics, about the first language he learned—and about how his grandmother taught him, eyes gone soft with fondness for the since passed woman.

You tell him about your childhood in Fontaine, about scraped knees and local theatre and sparkling blue water, about your favourite Fontainian film movements and how they first sparked your passion for the performing arts.

“I don’t know anything about Fontainian Neorealism or the Fontaine New Wave,” he admits, “but I do know that Sumeru has a flourishing arts and culture sector—and I assume that’s why you’ve chosen to study here. Am I correct?”

“You are,” you nod with a small smirk, sipping on red wine. “It is exceptionally difficult to study Sumeru’s robust art history without actually being here. All I know are the things I’ve read in books—which are not nearly a suitable substitute for experiencing it with your own eyes.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “Let’s make a deal, then.”

“A deal?”

“A trade, of sorts,” he begins, smirking when you blink twice in curiosity. “I’ll take you to a performance at Zubayr Theater, and you take me to see a Fontainan film. Sound fair?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

A small smile graces his lips, wispy at the edges, a peculiar sentiment sparkling in his gaze. “It’s a date, then.”

And you can’t help the fizzy feeling that starts to froth in your veins at the word, at the promise of seeing him again, of spending more uninterrupted time with him, just the two of you.

It must show on your face in some way, must be evident in the sweet, girlish giggle that bubbles uncontrollably past your lips, because his smile stretches, still soft, and he chuckles gently, nothing more than a huff of breath on his tongue.

“I’m looking forward to it, too.”

The palm cupping your knee is hot and heavy, his grasp flexing with his response, staying itself for a moment before it slides up your thigh, slow and careful and appraising, thumb stopping a millimeter shy from the hem of your short black dress.

Keen teal eyes stay trained on your face, focused in their evaluation, ready to analyze any slight change in expression his action may elicit.

But you only lean closer, legs spreading an inch or so wider, shuffling to the edge of your seat, a silent plea for more.

A silent plea that does not go unnoticed by Alhaitham, as indicated by his small smile, sharp eyes dulling a little with their inquisition and fingers sinking into plush flesh, grip strengthening before relaxing again, the tip of his thumb stroking the material of your dress.

All without a single hitch in his words, swiftly and smoothly moving onto the next topic.

And you only fall further.

You can’t manage to keep your hands to yourself, either, it seems, touch vying and voracious for more of him: playing with the gold bangles encircling his wrist; twisting the gilded jade class ring pressed firmly against his second knuckle; drifting over the back of his hand, a single fingertip outlining the bones and veins contouring his flesh.

He doesn’t appear to mind, though, flipping his hand over to gift you more access, allowing you to trace the lines of his palm with a manicured nail, his fingers spreading wider, presenting more of himself to you as you vividly discuss Metz and how he built his cinematic semiotics theory off of structural linguistics.

His hand is nearly in your lap now, your thighs cushioning one another’s, knees bumping clumsily against the edge of each other’s chairs as you subconsciously try to inch closer, caught up in every fucking thing about him; his viscous voice, cascading over you like melty syrup; his vivid stare, so bright and full of passion it’s practically glowing; his magnificent mind, gears churning at a rapid yet efficient pace, producing ribbons of wisdom, flowing smooth and fluid from his lips, confident and self-assured.

You’re drowning in him, submerging yourself further and further into his presence, more intoxicated by his aura than the wine roiling warm and sweet in your belly. It produces something insatiable, a starved clawing at your chest that grapples for more and more and more of him, every fragment of information you manage to extract doing nothing to satisfy the hunger, instead exacerbating the craving.

You’ve never met anyone like him before; never met anyone so blunt and real and unabashedly themselves, never met anyone so sincerely scholarly, so dedicated to their studies, so zealous in their never-ending pursuit of knowledge.

It’s inspiring; it’s intoxicating.

Alhaitham’s mind is brilliant, beautiful, an ornate maze of thoughts, each one leading to something new, each one unravelling like the petals of a lotus, sparking further debates, remarks, ponders.

You could get lost in here forever, you think—stumbling your way around sharp corners and down twisting corridors, consistently in awe of the next thing you discover.

You must murmur it out to him, dreamy and wine-drunk and wrapped up in him, sentiments streaming seamlessly from your brain to your lips without your permission, because he laughs, the sound mild and tender, his gaze softening.

“Is that so?”

“Mm,” you nod, lazy and languid. “It’s so beautiful, Haitham.”

“I’ve never had anyone call my mind beautiful before,” he muses. “But I think it might be my favourite compliment to receive yet.”

Bubbles of pride tingle behind your ribs, and your chest puffs out a little, spine straightening beneath his praise, murmuring out a little self-satisfied, well, then, you’re welcome.

“Proud of yourself, huh?” he teases, though the notes infusing his voice are playful, his eyes shining as he studies you, cataloging your expressions.

“Yes, Sir,” you confirm. “You’re a hard man to please.”

“Oh, am I?” he snorts, head tilting in question.

“S’not a bad thing,” you continue, words slurred just a touch, heavy with admiration. Dainty hands find his own, your fingers beginning to toy with his, idle and absent-minded as they curl and straighten knuckles.

“No?” he smirks, pinky catching yours in a swift hook. “I mean, you seem to be doing a pretty good job so far.”

“I could do better, if you want me to.”

It’s bold, brash, and entirely unbefitting, but the offer slips from your mouth without thought or consent, startling you in it’s veracity, a jolt of desire zipping through your veins.

Your hand moves entirely of its own accord, touch tiptoeing up his thigh in invitation, inching toward the half-hard lump in his trousers.

He catches your wrist just before you reach his cock, slim fingers braceletting your arm and squeezing once in warning.

“Are you sure you want to go down this path, sweetheart?”

Hooded teal observes you closely, irises shaded into a deep navy, glimmering under the chandelier lights.

The question drips from his lips in a dark, decadent murmur, simultaneously an enticement and a warning, his thumb idly stroking your skin as he awaits your response—an action that brings some semblance of comfort, despite the dangerous thrill sparkling in his eye.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Despite speaking to him for the duration of the night, you don’t know this man—don’t know his rank in the department or his status among his peers and how that may impact you in the future. On all accounts, it most definitely is not a good idea.

He seems to know so, too, if his timbre of caution is anything to go by, but that ray in his eye flares, begging you to say yes.

Because the desire is too strong, a potent drug infusing your blood and hazing your brain, overwhelming your senses and overriding your better judgement, and you find yourself unable to resist, easily placing blame on the wine and the party and the undeniable allure of this stranger, instead of your own ravenous craving.

“I want you,” you admit instead, the confession oozing from between pouted lips, stark with it’s honesty, unapologetic with your longing.

Alhaitham laughs, low and smooth, watching you through thick, fanned lashes.

“How do you want me?”

He’s playing with you now, a hawk toying with his food between razored talons, forcing his prey to go exactly where he wants it to.

You can’t find it in yourself to care.

“However you’ll give you to me,” you respond, brazen but sincere, glassy eyes wide and captivating his own.

Teal searches your face for a moment, pries apart your features in search of falsities and finds nothing but unadulterated candour, so sheer it boarders on pathetic.

“All right,” he finally says, hand smoothing along your wrist to press your palms together, lacing your fingers with his and giving a gentle tug. “Come.”

You tread behind him like the sweetest little kitten, inebriated galaxies swirling in your irises, desperate and obedient and eager for your treat.

But you’re just a touch too impatient, it seems.

Because he barely makes it to the washroom, free hand on the doorknob, intending to throw one last glance back at you—one final confirmation, are you sure? written in the motion—before you’re surging forward, soft palms cushioning a defined jaw, dainty fingers hooking behind the hinges and yanking, crushing his lips to yours.

It isn’t graceful in the slightest, a rough mangle of tongues and teeth, incisors catching on lips and canines scraping slick muscle, but Alhaitham recalibrates quickly enough, large hands curling around your hips and pulling you to his form.

The door to the men’s washroom swings open as your knotted bodies fall through it, hinges loose and creaky, the metal handle slamming against the tiled wall, the resounding bang! bouncing throughout the room.

The stumbling of your footsteps echoes around you, obnoxious smacking of lips and slurping of tongues amplified by the open space as you gulp down his breathy little chuckle, the sound warm and tingling as it spills down your throat.

A tangled mess of legs and limbs, you fall into the first available stall, rickety door whacking off the side, the lock jingling from the force.

He allows you to crowd him into a corner, hinges of the flimsy door tinkering again as your legs slotting together and your tongues grind, tips teasing each other in curling little licks, catching one another and then slipping away, tracing the ridges of teeth, burrowing into the divots of cheeks.

A strong hand stays wrapped around your neck, nails just barely nipping your skin as he grips you in place, his other hand busying itself with a palmful of your ass, fingertips planting bruises into soft flesh.

A responding hiss slithers from your mouth into his, the sound massed on his tongue, the muscle folding around it and sucking, savouring your pain until it melts into his flesh.

Your hands are indecisive, traversing the buttons of his shirt and the loops of his trousers until, finally, they find his belt, fingers eager and vying as they pick at the heavy buckle, and he snorts.

“It’s cute, how utterly desperate you are,” he mumbles into the kiss, slippery mouths sliding together, leavings streaks of saliva painted across chins.

You are desperate, too desperate, and if you were of sound mind you’d be rightfully embarrassed of such behaviour, pawing at him like some impatient teenager, pathetically aching for more of him.

But the wine and the glamour and Alhaitham’s intoxicating taste—cedar wood and mint, cloaked by expensive scotch—has cast a murky cloud over your brain, stuffing your skull full of nothing but ardour, dulling all of your senses, honing all of your needs, to him, him, him.

The thigh wedged between your own, sculpted from strong, lean muscle, flexes twice, hitching up further into your core, a pitchy mewl spilling onto his tongue as a reward. You can feel his cock, hot and hard and pressed tightly against your hip, rutting into you in small, uneven little motions, dense heat sprawling, slow and sticky, in the pit of your tummy.

“God, you’re already making such a fucking mess,” he nearly moans into your mouth, thigh tensing again in emphasis, cotton doused in slick arousal. “And I’ve barely even touched you. I guess you really do want me, don’t you?”

And although his words are teasing, imbued with notes of playful mocking, his tone is sweet, almost as if he’s in awe of how honest you were.

“S’bad,” you whimper, tongue sketching out the curve of his cupid’s bow. “So bad.”

“Yeah? Tell me,” he pants, a hand wreathing around your jaw, keeping your stare trapped in his. “Tell me what you want.”

The demand is damp as it drifts across your face, scalding little pinpricks erupting beneath your skin, paired with a low whine of embarrassment. His gaze is too vehement, eyes wide and unblinking as they impel you, your own lids squeezing shut in the face of such fervour.

“Ah!” the hand clamped around your jaw tightens. “Open them. Look at me, and tell me what you want. You’re a big girl, I know you can do it.”

It almost hurts to look at him, another bout of humiliation flushing through your veins as you squint, features twisted up in a wince.

“C’mon,” he goads, fingertips thrumming against you cheek once in a fluent wave. “Where’s that big beautiful brain gone now? You were so eloquent at dinner.”

“I—I wanna ride your cock!” you nearly sob, the profession a stringy plead shoved from your tongue, tangled in threads of saliva. “I really wanna ride your cock.”

“Aw, how precious,” he clicks his tongue, as if it’s such a shame, words filtered through a slight faux pout. “Too bad naughty girls don’t get to ride my cock.”

“Wh-What?” you blink, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, just barely caught in outer lashes. “Naughty?”

And, oh, the smile that spreads across his cheeks is downright sinister, eyes flashing with levity.

“Do good girls put their hands all over a stranger’s cock?” he tilts his head, that shiny sliver in his iris catching in the light. “Does that not qualify as misbehaviour to you?”

“But—But I—I’m good!”

The response is automatic, barreling up your throat and out your mouth before you have a moment to seize it, a fierce need to prove yourself igniting behind your ribs, eyebrows knit cutely as you stare at him, eyes beseeching despite your bratty tone.

“Are you?” he raises a brow, eyes hard, but mirth plays with the corners of his lips. “Your behaviour thus far says otherwise.”

“I am!”

Your gaze steadily holds his own, daring, challenging, insistent, your features scrunched up in a stubborn petulance.

“All right, prove it to me,” he says after a beat, exhaling an amused little huff. “Show me you’re a good girl and suck my cock.”

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really, desperate to prove yourself worthy and capable as you slide down his body, knees on his toes, lidded stare never breaking contact with his own—heavy, dark, starving.

His collarbone, sharply prominent and peeking out from beneath his shirt lapels, heaves a little with his laboured breaths, the faintest sheen of sweat beginning to lacquer the bones, catching delicately in the fluorescent light.

Nosing along the impressive bulge straining against his trousers, you hum a little in appreciation, trailing hot, humid kisses up the length in a haphazard outline. A hushed giggle vibrates in your throat as his cock jumps beneath your touch, begging for what Alhaitham would never dare to, tongue unfurling from your mouth to roll, slow and hard, over the clothed head.

The slick muscle wraps itself around the tip as best it can, wet heat seeping through his pants as your tongue siphons his cock into your mouth, lips closing around the head and suckling, hard.

A breath snares on his sternum, his hips twitching once in complement, chased by a low, alluring chuckle.

“Huh,” he says to himself, though the letters are breathless. “I didn’t know good girls were little teases…”

The implication is not lost on you, and you roll your eyes, grumbling out a muffled no fun into his groin before your fingers immediately get to work—button popped, zipper tugged, knuckles curled in the elastic waistbands, hauling his pants and briefs midway down his thighs.

His cock is just as gorgeous as he is, thick and velvety and twined with pulsing veins that surge and swell the moment they’re wrapped in your tongue.

It’s impossible to silence the pathetic whimper of appreciation that spills from your throat the moment his cock is free, massive and magnificent, and you can’t resist nuzzling your cheek into it in admiration, catlike, the flushed head leaving a fat streak of pre-cum painted just below your eye.

A curse pries its way past his lips, fading into a breathy exhale, his fingers latching beneath your jaw and tilting your face to his, taking a moment to cherish the sight.

You look so beautiful stained with him—glistening pre-cum dashed across your check in a perfect stripe; lips swollen and licked raw, shimmering with his spit—and he can’t help but stare, ravenous pupils having gnawed away at teal irises, desperate to soak up as much of the scene as physically possible, leaving nothing more than a thin ring to outline the orbs.

His thumb swipes through the sticky substance, rubs it into your skin until it’s gone dry, seeped into the tissues and absorbed completely, and your neck strains a little, yearning to present more of your cheek to him, offering.

Another second or two passes as he grants himself one final moment of marvel, before his fingers release your head, a non-verbal command to continue.

And you obey flawlessly, instantly.

A dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock, tongue darting from between raw lips to lap kittenishly at the head, flattening along the curve and dragging twice in unhurried succession before digging the point into his slit, procuring another pretty pearl of pre-cum, oozing enticingly to adorn the tip.

It’s so dense, so bloated it looks mere moments away from dropping, your tongue stretching out far and wide in a precursory measure, ready to catch it when it falls. And it does, only a beat later, dripping slow and gross into your waiting mouth in a single strand, thick and viscid.

A hefty moan resounds in your throat as it seeps into your tastebuds, his flavour bitter and strong, fluttering lashes framing rolling whites.

The noise that splinters in his throat is strained, yearning beneath a heavy hedonism, and his fingers tighten in your hair, a subtle caution. Smirking, your glance up at him again, sinful tongue laving lasciviously over your puffy lips, yet your eyes are not bratty, instead glittering with such potent awe it almost hurts, like he’s some sort of veneered saint, exalt pouring from your gaze.

It crushes down on his chest, flattens his lungs and makes it difficult to draw in breath, oxygen stalling in his throat, the urge to yank you up and kiss the goddamn life out of you near unbearable as it tears at his chest. But he comes back to his senses, restraint held intact by a single spider silk thread, a dull, distant voice in the back of his skull reminding him of your task, of your lesson.

You seem to know, too.

No words need to be spoken, no warnings need to be issued, the hand around the base of his cock flexing slightly as it readjusts its grip, feeding him to yourself, taking him inch by inch down your eager throat.

“S’it,” he encourages as he watches you, eyes lidded and hazy with lust. “That’s it, baby, take as much of it as you can for me.”

The incentive, haunted by the ghost of potential praise if you succeed, only makes you more avid in your quest, throat stretching around his girth as you stuff it full of his cock, reflexes instinctively attempting to push him from the gummy column, constricting as you gag around the head.

It’s hard to know what he likes—how fast, how deep, how rough and filthy—but from the limited information you’ve gathered tonight, you can infer that he isn’t a fan of teasing; at least, not when he’s the one being teased.

“A little more,” he instructs, but the command is gentle, a thumb skimming along the line of your jaw, hinges straining as you immediately submit, mouth opening wider, throat sexpanding further as you take more of him, more for him.

“Fuck, look at that,” he pants out, thumb caressing your jaw again before his palm cups beneath your chin, tilting your head up, the action inadvertently forcing his cock farther down your throat. “You’re so good.”

Blinking twice in response, you stare up at him, irises encrusted with stars of worship, their shine unhindered by the bleary gloss of reflexive tears that have already begun to collect, lashes clumped into soaked spikes, just barely keeping the torrent at bay.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt more respected, revered, in his entire life.

Another blink—a quick beating of lashes—sends crystalline dewdrops flowing down your cheeks, the softest sniffle, half-stifled, shuddering delicately around his cock.

“H-Hah,” he breathes out, an involuntary little sound pulled from deep within his chest, your agape mouth working itself open greater, lips stretching over his bulk.

He holds you still for a moment, takes time to admire such a pretty sight, hips jolting slightly, eyes watching as the bulge in your throat jumps, as you choke around him but don’t dare push him away, instead squeezing the base of his cock, attempting to jam it down even more. Your chin juts forward in a futile attempt to aid, salacious squelching echoing throughout the bathroom as you swallow, hard and with conviction, trying to lead him further into your body.

The back of his knuckle swipes through a stream of glittering salt, collecting your tears on his skin and bringing it to his mouth, tongue washing over it slowly, savouring your taste.

And you wait.

How very good of you.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he finally says as he releases his grip, permitting you to take control again. “Show me how much of me you can take down your throat.”

And, really, that’s all of the enticement you need, head beginning to move the instant he demands it, mouth gliding down his shaft, slow and steady, until the tip of your nose just barely brushes your second knuckle. A pause, a mere millisecond for him to feel your throat convulse, before you’re pulling back up, lips puckering as they tighten around his shaft, glazing his flesh in a thin, shimmering film of saliva.

Each stroke of your mouth has your pace accelerating, opting to keep your fist wrapped firmly at the base of his cock to steady it instead of allowing it to follow the trajectory of your lips.

It grows sloppy quick, your spit-soaked hand readjusting it’s slippery grip as your upper lip repeatedly bashes into it, the threads of saliva keeping your mouth and finger connected snapping each time your lips reach his head, nearly pulling off of his cock completely before your mouth sinks down again

“Yeah, yeah, there you go,” he grunts out, words torn around the edges, breathing raw and ragged. “Good girl, my perfect girl, doing so well for me.”

A whine reverberates around his cock, your legs spreading slightly as your back bows and your neck arches, an ambitious attempt to take more of him, throat gaping and split open, drenched cunt grinding into the toe of his polished shoe.

He groans a little, the sound tapering off into something choked and broken, his hips stuttering forward and involuntarily plunging his entire length down your throat, body retching at the abrupt intrusion.

And suddenly, all of this isn’t exactly enough for you.

Because while you can nearly fit all of him down your throat on your own, and while he seems to be more than satisfied with your progress, there’s still an inch or so that you’re missing, palm curled around it in a manner that’s almost protective, and you want to take all of him.

You want to prove that you can take all of him, for him.

A thick, milky string of spit and pre-cum dangles and droops heavily in the space between your lips and his cock as you peel your mouth from his shaft entirely, wrecked little coughs furling on your tongue, eyes wet and wide and full of reverence as you look up at him, imploring.

With a little effort, he hefts his lids open from their sedative state, staring down at you with glazed, gluttonous pupils, head tilting a little in inquiry.

“I want you to fuck my throat, Sir,” you rasp out in explanation, voice rough and raw, request grating against your throat. “Please, fuck my throat, Sir, please.”

The plead is garbled, drooled out from the corners of your mouth curled in copious drivels of foamy spit, collecting on your chin and dripping off your jaw in viscous glass cords.

Chest heaving with ragged breath, he watches as drool drizzles across your collarbone and exposed bosom, sticky and sloppy. You’re making such a mess—he’s making such a mess of you, and you’re so willing, so unwavering, raring for more.

“Fuck,” he nearly whines out, the curse cracked.

Deft fingers grip your face, blunt nails biting into your cheeks as he forces your head up further, an attempt to get a better look at you.

“Yeah?” he breathes, the word drifting across your face, eyes hunting after it in an almost rabid manner. “You want Sir to fuck your mouth?”

A whimper vibrates on your tongue, head nodding as best it can in his firm grasp.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, wanna take as much of you as possible, Sir; wanna take all of you, Sir; wanna be so good for you, Sir,” your head quirks a little, nuzzling into his touch. “Please, help me, help me show you how good I can be.”

Your confession is molten and dreamy, flowing from your lips in one thick, continuous stream, your eyes limpid, desperate with the desire to please.

“Though you’ve proven you are capable of doing it on your own, it’s precious that you’re asking for my help.”

A hum of contemplation rumbles in his chest, head tilting in observation, his scrutinizing gaze framed by heavy lids, eyes now slow and steady as they search your face.

“You need Sir to guide you, huh?” he’s asking as his other hand replaces your own, wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it two good, quick pumps before bringing the head to your lips, mouth obediently dropping open, a sound of confirmation playing on the back of your tongue.

Yes, yes, you’re nodding, tongue curling in the air a little, almost as if enticing him closer.

“No, not need,” he revises, smudging a thin stroke of pre-cum across your waiting, urgent tongue. “Want. Isn’t that right?”

It’s true—you don’t technically need his assistance, could manage perfectly well on your own the task of sucking him off and stuffing your throat with his cum, but you want his aid; want to show him that not only can you succeed, but you can surpass.

“Please,” you whimper, the word a distortion trembling against the tip of his cock. “Please, help me be the very best for you, Sir.”

Something sharp flashes in his pupils, hungry and craving and full of teeth, his chest stuttering with it—a growl he snuffs out, strangles in his throat before it can grow into a coherent response, replaced with a simple nod.

“All right, all right, baby,” he’s pacifying as you take his cock down your throat again, the hinges of your jaw straining as your mouth stretches around him. “Sir will help you out this time.”

A mewl of thanks vibrates around his cock as he threads himself down your throat, his hips jerking once, fast and short, a matching whimper spilling from his lips.

Delicate fingers curl in his waistband and tug a little, begging him to fuck deeper, and he concedes, groaning out breathy praise as your nose presses into that neat smattering of curls adorning his pubic bone, lips kissing the root of his shaft.

“Christ,” he whines, hips thrusting forward a hint further as he leans back against the stall wall to get a better view, your throat tightening around him with the action. “So fucking gorgeous.”

The stuffed full column of your throat ripples around him as you swallow with conviction, a greedy attempt to garner him even deeper into you, his shaft swollen and protruding in your neck. Tear-lacquered eyes close briefly, forcing streams of crystal to leak from the corners as you nuzzle into his groin again, the laudatory action causing gummy walls to spasm around his cockhead.

“F-Fuck,” the curse fragments on his tongue, head tipping back against the flimsy stall wall, angular jaw and Adam’s apple on display. “Look at you, so full of me.”

There isn’t any more time to admire, though, as idle chatter, muffled and indistinct, seeps under the heavy washroom door, yanking both of you from the heavenscape you had conjointly created and shocking you with a bitter dose of reality.

There’s no warning after that, the brute reminder of the steadily encroaching public entirely shattering whatever trance the two of you had been enveloped in, Alhaitham’s hips snapping sudden and sharp, fucking your throat with a renewed vigour.

Your grip on his slacks tightens, knuckles curling over the waistband in a feeble attempt to help him, to pull him even closer, jaw wrenched open even wider as his hips work, so fucking dedicated to him, to pleasing him, despite the pang beginning to settle deep within the hinges.

It’s rough, and sloppy, and so fucking hot, scalding saliva smeared all over him—coating his thighs and dribbling down his balls and soaking the matted curls at the base of his cock, slippery and sticky and stained with you.

“Doing so—so fucking good for me,” he pants out, pace never faltering. “My perfect little toy.”

Something mangled and muted sounds in your throat, another pair of tears cascading down your cheeks and streaking them with pretty gleaming trails.

It hurts, your throat burning and fucked raw with every ram of his cock, your lungs beginning to shrivel as he smothers your breath, routinely shoved back down in time with the piston of his hips, chest swelling painfully beneath the backlog of unreleased air.

Hiccups splutter around him as you desperately try to draw in tiny gulps through your nose, the fluttering of your throat eliciting another hoarse groan, tumbling from his lips.

The ache in your jaw has radiated across your face now, a pounding in your temples keeping flawless rhythm with Alhaitham’s thrusts, a twinging in your cheeks weighing heavy on the bones, creeping into your sinuses.

Yes, it all hurts so very much, but you take it all for him, just like a good little girl is supposed to, just like he asked, just like you promised you would—dutiful, doting, devoted.

And even though his hips are ruthless, avid in their chase to catch his impending high, his grip is tender, the knuckles rooted against your skull firm but not painful as they hold your head in place, his thumbs massaging soothing little circles along your hairline.

You’re weeping around him now, a potent concoction of drool and tears trickling off your tongue in viscid strings, the slick muscle curled flush around the underside of his shaft, protecting sensitive skin from the edges of sharp teeth.

A dull pain is beginning to seep into the tip of your nose, no doubt a response to the constant collision of your face into his pelvis, and you can feel the early formations of a bruise, fragile capillaries busted open from the consistent blunt force.

“Oh, Christ,” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before springing back open, gazing down at you with fervour. “M’gonna—ah, ah—” his hips judder, thumbs pressing into the sides of your head, steadying his grasp. “M’gonna cum, and I want you to—f-fuck—to swallow it all, y’here me? Don’t waste a single fucking drop.”

And, well, you’re nothing if not unwaveringly obedient.

Two more drives of his cock, rough and rapid, and then he’s forcing hot, thick cum down your throat, stuffing the column full with his potent seed.

It’s so much, too much, and you sputter around him, the syrupy substance overflowing back up your throat and into your mouth to seep, slow and sticky, past the tight seal of your mouth.

But he helps you with that, too, holding your head still and pressing your face tightly to his pubic bone, ensuring that his cum shoots straight down your throat as his cock continues to throb weakly, weighting your tongue.

And you, obedient little girl that you are, devour all of it, even the few stray dollops of cream that managed to escape your mouth and roll down his balls, tongue curling hungrily around them and sopping up the remnants with gentle sucking.

Truly, you did not waste a single fucking drop.

And he’s so proud of you.

“C’mere, precious,” he’s breathing out once he’s sure you’ve swallowed it all, releasing his grip on your skull and hoisting you up, strong hands hooked beneath your armpits.

He hauls you to your feet in one fluid movement, pliant legs struggling to find stable footing on the tiled floor, and props you up against his body, supporting you. Those big hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his, aquamarine flying across your features—quick, but efficient—and surveying the damage.

“You were so perfect,” he murmurs, sowing a smattering of chaste kisses along the top of your head. “You were so, so perfect for me.”

A response hitches in your throat, mangled by the sob desperately attempting to claw past it, and Alhaitham frowns, concern creasing his forehead.

“Hey, you okay? Huh?” gentle palms tip your head up even further, thumbs killing tears as they swipe over your cheekbones. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“M’fine, Sir,” you croak out, voice ruined but eyes filled with reverence. “Th-Thank you for giving me your cum.”

The worry saturating his features is eradicated in an instant, eroded by tender awe, his lips twitching into a small smile as his eyes sweep across your face again—slower, this time, more deliberate, appreciative—thumbs continuing their soft caress.

The sudden shouting of his name decimates any potential response before it has a chance to form in his mouth, a low growl of irritation rumbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he calls back, the moment the washroom door swings open, effectively halting the perpetrator in their steps. “I’ll be there soon. Give me a moment.”

His voice is hard, stern, cold yet dripping with authority, the meek messenger squeaking out some semblance of acknowledgement before rushing from the room.

You’re still sniffling, cheeks stained with dried, crusty salt, hair mussed and messy, and his frown returns as he looks back at you, his features pinched, reluctance weighing heavy on his form.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” you nod in his grasp, finally standing on your own two feet, as if to prove it. “Promise.”

His eyes hold your own for a moment longer, assessing, before he accepts your answer as truth, fingers beginning to fuss with his dishevelled tie.

“All right,” he sighs out the words as he primps, palms smoothing down his shirt, wrinkles casualties from your fingers. “Take your time to regain your bearings.” He looks up, a sardonic grin on his face. “I, unfortunately, have business to attend to. Such is the life of a Sumeru professor.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s such a drag to be faculty at the top university in the world,” you snort.

“Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts,” he retorts, but his smile has softened to something playful. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

“Looking forward to it, Sir.”

“Good.”

He refolds his lapels one last time, squaring his shoulders as he mentally prepares, turning toward the stall door.

“Oh, and uh,” hand curled around the stall handle, he pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder, eyes shining with something mischievous. “Maybe next time you can actually ride my cock, like you wanted to.”

Head quirking, confusion crinkles your brow, your eyes searching his face. Next time?

A smirk spreads across his lips, smug and supercilious.

“See you in class on Monday, Teaching Assistant.”

#alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham thirst #inky.alhaitham #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham smut

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demie90s · 10 days ago

Text

LoYaL

Olivia Miles x Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You got a man. But you also got a weakness—and her name is Olivia Miles. You already folded. Hard. And the worst part? She don’t even know.

Warnings: cheating-adjacent behavior, obsessive thoughts, flirty banter, reader down bad, SMUT

Vibe: slow burn thirst, bold internal chaos, external chill

Word Count ~ 5.1k

It’s too hot for this.

I say it every time the school throws one of these athlete mixers—outdoor event, plastic tables, lukewarm lemonade, and every sport on campus packed into one space like it’s supposed to build “camaraderie.” But really, it’s just an excuse to flex. Track kids in compression shorts. Volleyball girls tall as hell. Basketball players posted in the shade like royalty.

And then there’s me. Cropped white tank, dark jeans low on the hips, lip gloss catching every bit of sun. My boyfriend trailing behind me, already complaining about the heat.

“Why would they throw this outside?” he says for the third time, fanning himself with a program like that’s doing something. “This shit dumb.”

I hum in response, eyes already moving. Not for food. Not for the check-in table. I’m looking for her.

Olivia Miles.

She’s leaning back on a picnic bench with her team, one leg up, glasses perched on her nose like she never even thought about taking them off. Puffball sitting high, curls tight, and she’s wearing some loose-ass tee rolled up at the sleeves, shorts low on her waist. Talking soft. Laughing low. Calm like she’s home.

She don’t try. That’s the problem.

She doesn’t walk in like she owns the space. She doesn’t scan the crowd for attention. She doesn’t flirt loud or look thirsty. She just sits there, real still, real solid—like she already knows she’s the reason you can’t think straight.

And I’m trying to keep it together, but I’ve already failed.

I shift on my feet, arms crossed, watching her laugh at something one of her teammates says. That little smile curve on her lips? That shit should be illegal. My thighs tense without permission.

“Yo, you want a drink or something?” my boyfriend asks. He’s beside me, but I swear he sounds like he’s miles away.

I don’t even look at him. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure? You been standing still like five minutes.”

I shrug, still staring. “It’s the heat.”

My best friend’s on my other side, and I can feel her looking at me. I don’t turn. I don’t blink. I just whisper, “Shut up,” before she can say anything slick.

Because she knows. She’s the only one who knows I’ve been in love with a girl who don’t even know I exist. Or worse… does and just ain’t said shit.

Because let’s be real—if she walked up right now, stood in front of me and said,

“You trying to—?”

I wouldn’t even wait for the end of the sentence.

“Yes.” To Easy. Instant.

“Don’t you got a man?”

“So?” (Block my blessing for what?)

I’d say it with my chest. With my hand out. With my life ruined.

But for now, I’m frozen, stuck in place watching her lean forward to tie her shoe, goggles sliding down a little, and she pushes them back up with two fingers like she been doing it since birth.

My friend coughs into her hand—laughing, really—and leans in.

“Girl, close your mouth before somebody sees.”

I suck my teeth. “Ain’t nobody looking.”

“Exactly. Except you.”

And she’s right. I’m locked in. Focused. Gone. Olivia don’t even know the chokehold she’s got me in. Or maybe she do. Maybe that’s why she moves like that—calm, unreadable, like she’s watching everything but only caring when she feels like it.

And I swear to God if she even glances this way? It’s over for me. My relationship, my dignity, my sanity. Gone.

“Yo, let’s go sit in the shade or something,” my boyfriend says, tugging my hand like a toddler.

I glance at him. Back at her. She just laughed again—eyes closed this time, head tipped slightly back. God. Even her breathing fine.

I let him lead me away, but my eyes never leave her. And I know it now—clearer than ever. I don’t want her number. I don’t want a chance. I want her attention. Just once. Just enough to ruin everything.

——————

I’m sitting at the table, but my body’s still catching up. Still humming from the brush of Olivia’s arm. From that accidental touch. That soft “my bad,” the little half-smile, the way she smelled like clean sweat and lemon lotion and power.

My boyfriend didn’t even blink. Didn’t see the way my breath caught. Didn’t notice my knees locked under the table like I’d been tased.

“She mad chill though,” he says now, shoving fries in his mouth like he ain’t just walked past a god. “I get the hype.”

I blink at him. Don’t speak.

He leans back in the cheap metal chair, stretching like he did something. Like we just came out of a moment and not me out of a crisis. He wipes his mouth, still chewing, and then—

“Probably all the gay girls hypin’ her up though. You know how it is. Pride Month—everybody suddenly like, ‘Oooh, I like girls now.’”

He laughs. Like it’s a joke. Like it’s clever. “That shit so corny.”

I freeze. Fork in hand. Mid-air. Half a cherry tomato skewered and dripping, forgotten. My friend on the other side of me goes still. She looks at me out the corner of her eye, then down at her plate.

He doesn’t notice. He never notices. Because right now? I’m not looking at him. I’m staring at my plate like it insulted me personally. And inside? I’m burning.

Because first of all, you had the audacity to speak on gay girls while I’m still trying to come back to earth from brushing shoulders with Olivia fucking Miles.

Second of all, who told you to bring Pride Month into this? Who said your straight ass could even speak on what it means to “act” gay?

“That so?” I say finally, voice low, deceptively even.

He nods like I asked for insight.

“Yeah, I mean—whatever makes ‘em feel seen, I guess. But it’s wild how many girls I seen switch up this month.”

Switch up. Switch up? I look up at him real slow. Then I smile. But my hand is still shaking slightly on the fork. And in my mind? I’m not here anymore.

In my mind, I’m standing up from this wobbly-ass table.

Walking back to the other side of the lawn where Olivia’s still sitting with her team. Leaning back like nothing happened. Glasses low. Neck glinting in the sun. Looking fine as ever in her sweats like she don’t even know what she did to me.

And I walk right up to her. Tap her on the shoulder. Say, “Hey. Wanna help me prove a point?” I wouldn’t even explain. She wouldn’t need me to.

Because if my boyfriend really thinks girls liking girls is some kind of trend? Cool. Let me go trend with someone who’s everything he’s not—quiet, composed, fine, and real.

Let me trend in Olivia’s mouth. In her hoodie. On her lap. On camera. Public.

Say. Less.

“Babe?” he says, laughing lightly. “What? You mad now?”

I look at him and blink like I just woke up from a vision.

“No. I’m good,” I say. But my voice is like ice.

My friend slides her soda across the table and mumbles, “Hydrate, bitch. Before you act on it.”

Too late.

——————

I don’t storm off. I walk calm. Controlled. Very demure. Plate left, water bottle in hand, telling him I need to pee like I’m not seconds from losing it. I don’t look back. Don’t want to. My friend don’t stop me—probably hoping I do what we both know I want to do.

The bathroom’s empty when I walk in. Cool. Dim. I head for the mirror, splash water on my collarbone, trying to steady my breathing. But I already feel her before I see her.

Door creaks. Footsteps. Her. I don’t have to turn. I see her in the mirror.

Olivia. 5’10”. Loose shorts. Hoodie on. Puffball fresh. Those glasses pushed down her nose like she’s about to read me like a damn syllabus.

She don’t say “hi.” Don’t ask how I’m doing.

“That’s your man?” she says, slow, real casual.

I blink. Straighten. “Yeah.”

She leans against the wall, arms crossed, one foot kicked back like she got all the time in the world. Like she ain’t even surprised.

“Mm.” She nods once, smug. “Makes sense.”

I turn to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her smile is slight. Sharp.

“Nothing. You just looked real hungry for someone.”

My breath catches. I say nothing. She lets the silence hang heavy between us like it’s part of the game.

“Ain’t my business,” she shrugs. “Just funny.”

I squint at her. “What’s funny?”

She uncrosses her arms. Takes one step forward.

“You actin’ like you’re loyal.”

I freeze. My chest stutters, legs suddenly too stiff.

She knows. Not the details—but the look. The energy. The way my body locked up when she brushed it earlier. And she’s smiling now. Not big. Not mean. Just… knowing.

“If I asked, you’d come,” she says, real low.

It’s not a question. It’s not even a tease.It’s a fact. I should be offended. I should say something. Remind her I’m in a relationship. Tell her she doesn’t know me like that. But I don’t.

“You don’t even know me,” I say instead, but it comes out weak. Like a whisper.

She tilts her head, licking her lips once like she tasting the lie.

“Don’t need to. I know the type.”

She steps back like she’s done. Like she just dropped the mic and don’t need to repeat herself. She shrugs again.

“You ain’t loyal. But I don’t mind.”

And just like that, she turns and leaves. Doesn’t wait. Doesn’t look back. The door swings shut behind her, and I’m standing there—palms sweating, chest heaving, thighs clenched. She just called me a hoe. And I let her.

——————

The mixer’s too hot, too loud, and I’m too fine to be annoyed the way I am.

Tube top hugging tight across my chest. Shorts short enough to ride when I sit. Edges laid. Anklet sparkling. I didn’t come here to play humble—I came to be seen. And yeah, I showed up with my boyfriend, but the second I spotted Olivia stretched out on that bench? Oversized tee, sweats slung low, one arm thrown across the back.

I already knew what kind of time I was on.

We sit across from her at first. Then, like the world is just that sick and sweet, space opens up next to her—so I take it. Slide right in. My boyfriend don’t blink. He still talking about his lift numbers, the heat, the protein shakes that “aren’t hitting right.”

I’m nodding. Smiling even. But the second he turns his head? I lean into Olivia, real slow. Let my lips graze her jaw. Just a whisper of a kiss.

She doesn’t move. She looks down at me, eyes low, grin teasing the corner of her mouth like “this what we doing?”

And yes. It is. (Got the idea from Johnson family vacation ifykyk)

I sit back like nothing happened. Take a sip of my drink, legs crossed, pretty as ever. Olivia doesn’t say a word. She just chuckles under her breath. Real low. Real smug.

When my boyfriend looks back, she’s already leaned back again, stretched out like she’s tired, like nothing’s going on. He doesn’t notice that her hand is close to mine now. That my pinky is brushing hers under the table like I’m trying to behave and failing.

He says something dumb again. About girls being “extra gay” during Pride. How “half the team switch up for clout.” I laugh. Loud. Mean. Because while he’s talking, my hand’s already drifting to Olivia’s thigh.

Eyes on the sky. Head tilted back, smirk barely there. She’s relaxed, like this don’t mean shit. Like I’m just another girl acting bad because I can. But I feel her shift, just a little, to make room for me.

My thumb brushes the seam of her sweats. My nails trace slow, just enough to tease. Her breathing doesn’t change. She’s built for this.

My boyfriend turns to say something else.

Olivia raises her eyebrows at me like “Be good.”

I lean in again. Soft. Sweet. My lips graze under her ear, just once. Then I sit up like nothing happened. She’s grinning now. Full on. And when my boyfriend looks between us, confused for a second?

We’re just sitting. Just two athletes at a picnic. But the energy?Unforgivable.

He says, “Y’all good?”

I smile, innocent. “Perfect.”

She finally speaks. Voice smooth, low, deep in her chest.

“Girls do be switching up.” She looks straight at me.

“But some of..been on this side.”

My breath catches. My boyfriend’s still laughing. And I’m still being a hoe—just quieter about it.

—————

Later in the day, the sun’s still out, but it’s lower now. That heavy golden hour that makes everything look softer than it feels. People are hanging around, talking in smaller groups. The music’s still playing, but it’s background noise now. Fading.

I’m standing next to my boyfriend again, and he’s going off about something dumb. Mad about someone saying he was too slow in a drill. Still pissed about how “the media don’t respect real athletes.” Still pretending like I’m listening.

I’m not.

Because Olivia’s leaning against her car across the lot, arms folded over that same oversized tee, chains glinting in the sun, her sweats hanging just right. She’s watching me. Calm. Amused. Like she knew this would happen. Like she planned it.

She doesn’t say anything. Just lifts her chin a little.

Eyes locked on me. Everything in my body tightens. My breath catches. My skin buzzes. It’s not a question. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command.

One second, my boyfriend is mid-sentence. The next? I’m gone. I don’t say goodbye. Don’t make excuses. I just walk—fast, locked in, like my body belongs to her now and I’m just trying to catch up.

When I climb into her car, shorts tight between my thighs and lip gloss sticky on my mouth, she doesn’t ask me anything. She just watches. Quiet. Calm. Steering wheel gripped with one hand like she’s still thinking about whether I deserve what I came for.

I don’t even sit back. I turn to her, chest rising, blood hot, lips parted. Because I already said yes.

I don’t even know who moves first. Maybe I do. Maybe it’s me that launches across the console like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe it’s her that pulls me in with a hand on the back of my neck like she’s starving.

Our mouths crash, messy and wet. Tongue deep. Lips slick. Teeth brushing. My thighs grind against the seat as her hand slides up, slow, dangerous, right under the hem of my tube top. She doesn’t grope. She doesn’t tease.

She grips. Chest to chest. Mouth to mouth. And then her hand’s in my hair, yanking just enough to make me gasp.

She pulls back, just slightly. Breath heavy. Eyes dark. Then—like she’s annoyed I even needed the warm-up—she kisses me again, tongue pushing past my lips like it belongs there.

I moan straight into her mouth. She swallows it and smirks.

Her hand drops to my throat. Doesn’t squeeze—just holds it. Firm. Dominant. Like a reminder: you came here. You said yes. This is mine now.

I’m straddling her lap before I even realize it, knees pressed against her sweats, hands sliding under the collar of her shirt like I need to feel every inch of her. My hips roll without rhythm. I can’t help it. I need her.

She finally speaks. Voice deep, quiet, thick with control.

“You gon’ be loud?”

I shake my head. Lying. She chuckles, low in her chest, like “you better not.”

And then she slides her hand into my shorts—no warning, no permission—just takes it. Knuckles brushing heat, middle finger dragging through slick like she expected me to be soaked.

And I am. Pathetic. I moan again, jaw hanging open, throat still in her grip. Her lips find my neck, tongue trailing, teeth scraping. And she takes her time.

Slow strokes. Pressure where I need it. Fingers moving with intention, like she wants to memorize every twitch I give her. My hands claw at her shoulders. Her jaw. Her thighs. I don’t even know where I am anymore.

She’s not even whispering anything sweet. She’s just watching me. Lips parted, breathing steady, watching the way I fall apart on her fingers like it’s nothing.

We’re in a fucking parking lot. Anyone could see. My boyfriend could come walking any second. But she don’t stop.

She just presses her thumb up harder, fingers moving deeper, wrist rolling with purpose—and when my legs shake and my eyes roll back, she pulls my face to hers, kisses me so deep I forget how to breathe.

I come with her tongue in my mouth. Her hand on my throat. My body choking on it, falling into her like I belong there. And she never stops smiling.

——————

Your thighs are still twitching in her lap, breath warm against her collar as you try to gather yourself. She’s not helping. Her fingers are still wet, still coated in the slick she worked out of you with slow, devastating control, and she brings them to her mouth like it’s nothing. Sucks two fingers clean while staring straight ahead, jaw flexing slow as her lips wrap around them with a hum so casual it makes your gut twist.

Your heart’s still pounding, body open, hips sore from how hard you’d pressed into her palm, chasing something no one had ever given you. And she just wipes the rest of you on your inner thigh like she’s done this before—like you’re a routine.

She doesn’t say anything, but you lean in anyway, unable to sit still. Your lips begin pressing soft, lingering kisses against her neck, like you’re still offering something. Something sweet. Something needy. Something that says I’d rather die right here than go back.

She leans her head back with a quiet laugh, like your kisses tickle more than tempt, and her hand rests heavy on your thigh, thumb stroking once as her other drapes casually behind your back. You feel safe for half a second. Like she might let you stay.

Then her voice drops, amused and cruel in that soft, low way she’s got when she knows she has all the power.

“Nah,” she murmurs, lazy smirk spreading across her lips, “go back before he start bitchin’.”

The kisses stop mid-press, your lips just barely touching her collarbone. Your body stays right there, still soft and flushed and open, but something inside you folds in. You don’t pull back. You don’t move. You just go limp.

She doesn’t notice right away—or maybe she does, and just doesn’t care. Her hand stays where it is, thumb now tapping gently against your thigh like she’s calling time on your moment. You don’t answer. You just let your head fall against her shoulder like you’re not really there anymore.

Because what the fuck does she mean go back?

You just gave her everything. Let her touch you in ways no one ever had. You didn’t just come—you unraveled. On her fingers. In her lap. With her hand tight on your throat and her mouth owning every sound that left you.

And now she wants you to leave?

You don’t respond. Not out loud. You just lay there, breath shallow, eyes wide and unfocused. The kind of stillness that comes with being dropped too fast after being held too good. Like you’re emotionally concussed.

She shifts slightly, maybe to nudge you off. Maybe to stretch. She doesn’t say it again. She doesn’t have to. You were never supposed to stay.

And she’s not going to let you pretend otherwise. Not even for a second.

But you do. You pretend. Just for one more second. Just long enough to memorize how she smells. How she breathes. How it felt to belong to somebody who knew exactly what to do with you.

And then you climb off her lap like your knees don’t shake. Like your chest doesn’t ache. You shut her door behind you like it’s just a car and not a place you finally felt something real.

And when you walk back across the lot, shorts clinging, lips swollen, thighs still wet? You don’t feel like a girl with a boyfriend.

——————

It’s been a few weeks since I told him I was done. And I meant it—sincerely. I stood right in front of him, arms crossed, voice steady, and said, “This relationship is over.” He blinked at me like I told him I wanted to try a new hairstyle. Like it was a suggestion. Not a fact.

He kissed my forehead and said, “You just mad. It’s whatever.”

No, it’s not. It hasn’t been for weeks.

I’ve been living in peace, or trying to. Acting single, claiming it every chance I get. Laughing louder, dressing finer, letting people ask questions I don’t care to answer. I haven’t touched him. Haven’t even looked at him long. Meanwhile, he’s out here calling me “his girl” in group chats and making dumb little jokes like we’re still locked in.

We’re not.

And Olivia? She hasn’t said much since that day in the car. But I’ve seen her. In passing. On campus. Sitting in the back of lecture halls like she owns the walls. Always posted up somewhere quiet, laid-back in sweats and an oversized hoodie like she didn’t change my life in one afternoon. Her presence alone makes my spine hot. I haven’t been near her long enough to breathe right since.

Today I’m in class, zoned out, pretending to take notes while scrolling my phone. It’s hot, and I’m irritated. I’ve got on this tiny tube top that keeps slipping, shorts barely holding onto my hips, and I already know I look too good to be this bored.

The professor’s droning on and I’m one bad mood away from walking out, so I ask to use the restroom, and head into the hallway with my water bottle in hand, trying to gather myself. And I hear it.

I hear him. His voice echoing just around the corner, louder than it ever needs to be.

“Yeah, nah, it’s just been weird. My girl been actin’ mad different. But it’s cool though. You know how they be.”

My girl? I round the corner, ready to check him, until I see who he’s talking to—and stop dead in my tracks.

She’s leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one ankle kicked over the other, hood pulled up. Her jeans are low, her shirt’s wrinkled, and her expression? Cool as hell. Like this isn’t awkward. Like this isn’t the dumbest situation to ever unfold in human history.

She sees me. Of course she does. Her eyes flick up the moment I appear, and she grins a little. That slow, cocky kind of smile like she smelled the tension before I even turned the corner. She doesn’t even look at him when she speaks.

“Oh word?” she says, like they’re boys or something. “That your girl?”

He nods too hard. “Yeah. We just going through something. But yeah. That’s me.” I want to evaporate. Olivia finally turns her head toward him. One brow lifts.

“…She single now or what?”

And it’s so calm. So nonchalant. Like she asking about the weather. Like she doesn’t already know the answer. Like she didn’t have her fingers inside me while I was moaning her name in a Honda.

He laughs, a little confused, a little fake. “She be actin’ like it, but nah. That’s mine.” I roll my eyes so hard I see the inside of my skull. Because sir. I told you. I TOLD YOU.

I don’t say anything. Just shake my head and keep walking. Past them. Down the hall. Don’t even break my stride.

“I am single,” I mumble under my breath, loud enough for Olivia to hear, not him.

And I hear her chuckle behind me. That same low, knowing laugh she gave me when she said “go back before he start bitching.” I grip my bottle harder.

It’s been weeks since she touched me in the car, and my body hasn’t been the same since. Every time I close my eyes, I remember the way her fingers moved—like she already knew what I needed before I did. I came fast that day, embarrassingly fast, but it wasn’t the speed that shook me. It was the way she watched me come apart, the way she held me still and made me feel like I couldn’t hide anything. Not from her.

Since then, I’ve tried to move on. I’ve had my hand between my thighs almost every night, telling myself it’s fine. I can do it on my own. I’ve made myself come, sure—but it never hits the same. The memory of her—her voice, her smirk, the weight of her on me—gets me there faster than I want to admit. But it always feels like a copy. A watered-down version of something my body now knows how to crave. If it were her again, if it were her voice whispering in my ear while she split me open, I know I wouldn’t last a minute.

I’ve tried to act normal. In class, in public, around people who think I’m fine. I’ve walked past her a few times on campus—her posted up in some hallway, legs stretched out, hoodie up, like she’s above time itself. She never says much. She always watches me. That calm, unbothered look on her face like she knows I’m the one holding out.

Today, I can’t anymore.

I see her outside the lecture hall, sitting back with her hood up and her phone in her hand, like the sun doesn’t bother her. My stomach flips the second I spot her. I hesitate for one breath, then walk over without thinking it through. She glances up when I approach, not surprised at all.

“What’s up, baby?” she asks, her voice low, lazy, teasing.

I stop in front of her, eyes scanning her face, then her chest rising beneath the hoodie. My mouth feels dry.

“I need you,” I say, my voice too quiet.

She raises an eyebrow, lips curving slightly. “You need to talk?”

I shake my head. “No. I need you to fuck me.”

For a moment, she just watches me. Then she leans back and pulls one of her earbuds out, eyes scanning my face like she’s checking if I’m serious.

“You finally done playing?”

I nod.“Please.”

She stands slowly, stretches like she’s just been waiting for me to get it together, then nods toward the hall. I follow her without hesitation.

It’s quiet when the door shuts behind us, but my body’s screaming. I don’t wait. I grab her hoodie, pull her down into me, and kiss her like I’ve been starved for weeks—and I have. Our mouths crash, her tongue sliding over mine, fast, wet, messy. She’s grinning into it already. I can feel her smirk between kisses, feel her hands sliding under my shirt like she’s here to undo me.

I try to climb into her, hands clawing at her hoodie, but she pulls back and spins me around with one hard tug. My hip hits the desk. She presses against my back, one hand gripping my neck, the other dragging my shorts down like she’s done waiting.

Her breath hits my ear before her fingers hit my pussy.

“Still thinking about the car?”

I can barely get the moan out before her fingers slide between my legs. She doesn’t tease. Doesn’t warm me up. She just slides two fingers in like she already knows the depth, like she never forgot how I clenched around her.

My hands grip the desk, knuckles white. She’s already curling them. Already fucking me. I gasp, hips twitching back into her, thighs soaked. She laughs against my neck—low and mean.

“Goddamn, you’re pathetic. You been dripping like this since the first time, huh?”

I can’t answer. My breath’s caught somewhere between a scream and a sob. She adds pressure with her palm, rubbing my clit slow while she drags her fingers in and out of me, steady, precise. She knows my body now. Remembers every reaction like she wrote it.

I try to move. Try to push back for more. She grips the back of my hair and yanks my head to the side—not hard, just firm. Controlling.

“You don’t move unless I tell you to,” she says, her voice close, like she’s smiling. “You wanna come, you stay still.”

Her fingers speed up just slightly. The heel of her hand presses harder into my clit. I moan into the desk, biting my lip, body trembling.

She’s watching me. I know it. Watching the way my ass shakes every time she hits that spot. The way my spine bends. She leans in closer, tongue dragging along the shell of my ear.

“You tryna fuck yourself all month and couldn’t make it hit, huh? Poor baby.”

I nod, but it’s not enough. My whole body is vibrating now. My legs start to shake and she feels it.

“That’s it.”

Her fingers stay deep, wrist rolling. My clit pulses hard against her palm. I cry out, jaw slack, hips starting to twitch against her. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.

She laughs again. Darker this time.

“You gonna come all over my hand again? Do it.”

It hits me sharp. I whine her name, my thighs clamp down, my back arches and all I can feel is her. Her fingers. Her breath. The tight grip in my hair keeping me still while she finger fucks me through the hardest orgasm I’ve had since the last time she did this.

She doesn’t stop. She fucks me through it. Past the shaking. Past the twitching. Still smiling while I moan into the crook of my arm and beg for breath I can’t find.

When my knees start to give out, she pulls her fingers out slow and wipes them on my thigh. Then she pushes my head forward with one hand and leans over me again, mouth close to my ear.

“Don’t come back to me begging like that unless you’re ready to get used to it.” I don’t speak. All I can do is breathe and take it. Because I’ll be back.

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