#semi fluff

a/n: some of the times are screwed since i only discovered how to change them later on.. yes a little shirabu obsessed rn oopsie daisy

tag: @akaashiit, @an1ki3gai, @blythmourning, @immortalblazethief, @kagstobioisthelightofmylife, @qrxswan, @wave2cal, @velvetaya, @oceanaesthete, @tdntu0, @kaykayo8, @n0vawrit3s, @haniipie, @skz143nstuff, @lsirria, @bakugosgrenade, @bookworm-center, @levisotakugf, @wellitseugi, @badtzmai, @returntothefae, @noyamlv, @charukii, @amisuh, @z9mbo, @s1ckntw1st3d, @imagoodwriter, @jinshigooner, @venusdreamr, @carlitapp, @st3rdust7, @cwinxclub

You come back from practice, skin still damp with sweat, and find her exactly where she always is: cross legged on her bed, laptop balanced on her knees, headphones half on like armor. The RGB lights paint her face in shifting pinks and blues, catching on her piercings like warning signals she never heeds.

You don’t say hello.

You kick the door shut, drop your bag, and snap your fingers once, crisp and commanding.

Her body reacts before her brain catches up, laptop shoved aside, headphones yanked off. She slides to the floor without a sound, crawling the last few feet until she’s kneeling between your legs, eyes down, hands resting palms up on her thighs like an offering.

You don’t waste time on words.

You shove your shorts and underwear down in one motion, grab a fistful of her dark hair, and pull her mouth to you. She opens for you instantly, her tongue soft, lips warm, no hesitation. You ride her face rough and fast, grinding against her until your thighs tremble and your fingers bruise her scalp. When you cum it’s with a low, satisfied hiss, hips jerking before you push her away like she’s furniture.

She stays on her knees, breathing hard, chin slick, eyes glassy. You don’t thank her. You don’t touch her. You just step over her, strip the rest of your clothes, and climb into your own bed.

She doesn’t move until you’re under the covers. Then, she rises slowly, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and returns to her bed like nothing happened.

It happens again the next night. And the night after.

Sometimes you don’t even let her finish you with her mouth.

You straddle her lap while she’s still in sweats, feeling the instant, helpless throb of her cock through the fabric. You grind slow at first, then harder, faster, chasing your own release while she whimpers beneath you, hips twitching uselessly, hands clenched in the sheets because you haven’t given permission to touch.

When you cum you climb off without a glance back, leaving her leaking through her pants, trembling, untouched.

She never begs for relief. She never complains. She just lies there afterwards, face flushed, breathing ragged, cock softening against her stomach.

You never kiss her on the mouth.

You bite her throat until she whines. You suck bruises into the hollow of her collarbone. You drag your nails down her back hard enough to leave red lines she’ll feel for days. But your lips never meet hers. That would be too soft. Too dangerous. Too equal.

You don’t talk.

Not once.

No “how was your day?” No “what are you doing?” No “are you okay?”

The only sounds she makes are the ones you force out of her - high, broken whimpers when you edge her for forty minutes straight, shattered gasps of your name when you finally let her cum inside you, soft sobs when you overstimulate her until tears streak her cheeks and her whole body shakes.

You still don’t even know what her voice sounds like outside of sex.

Not the quiet, hoarse way she said your name that first night. Not the cracked “okay” when you claimed her. Those moments feel like fever dreams now, unreal and embarrassing. You’ve rewritten them in your head until they don’t exist.

This is cleaner.

This is power.

You use her whenever the urge hits - mid afternoon when the dorm is silent, late at night when the hallway lights dim, once in the shared bathroom with the shower running to drown out her muffled cries as you pin her against the tile and jerk her off until she’s sobbing your name into your shoulder.

She complies every single time. Eyes averted. Body pliant. Waiting. And every time you finish, you leave her wrecked, cum leaking from her, hoodie rucked up, face tear-streaked and flushed as you walk back to your side of the room like she’s invisible.

She never follows or reaches for you. She just pulls her blanket over herself, curls small, and waits for the next time you decide you want her.

You tell yourself this is exactly what you wanted. You tell yourself the hollow ache behind your ribs when you catch her sitting alone at her desk with her headphones on, staring blankly at a paused game is just boredom. You tell yourself the way your stomach twists when she flinches at a slammed door down the hall is irritation, not something softer. You tell yourself the silence between your beds isn’t heavier than it was before.

You tell yourself you’re in control.

Late at night, when the RGB lights cycle through colors and you’re alone under your covers, you listen for her breathing across the room.

Steady. Soft. Patient.

And something inside you twists so hard it hurts.

You roll over and face the wall, pretending you don’t feel it, pretending the quiet isn’t starting to feel like the loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Today the quad is buzzing with midday energy - students sprawled on the grass, frisbees slicing overhead, someone’s bluetooth speaker thumping bass from a picnic blanket twenty feet away. You’re sitting on the low stone wall with your usual group: three cheer girls in matching hoodies, iced coffees in hand, scrolling through tiktoks and gossiping.

But you’re only half listening. Your eyes keep drifting across the open space, past the fountain, to the shaded path that cuts between the library and the science building.

Semi’s there.

She’s walking alone like always, black hoodie zipped to her chin, backpack slung over one shoulder, head slightly down and dark hair falling across her face. She’s got her sketchbook tucked under one arm, the way she does when she’s heading to the art building to draw or whatever it is she does when she’s not waiting for you in the dorm. She doesn’t look up, just moves through the flow of people like she’s trying to be invisible.

You watch her anyway.

The way her shoulders hunch a little when someone brushes past too close. The way her free hand fiddles with the strap of her bag, a nervous habit you’ve noticed more than you should. The way the sunlight catches the silver hoops in her ears and makes them flash a little.

Your stomach does a stupid little flip.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until Junhee, sitting right next to you, follows your gaze and snorts.

“Ew, what are you looking at?”

The other two turn, and cruel laughter bubbles up immediately.

“Oh my god.” Jiyeong says, voice pitched high with mock horror. “Is that the creepy anime girl?”

They all crane their necks, giggling. You snap your eyes away too late, and heat floods your cheeks.

“No.” You mutter quickly. “I wasn’t looking at anyone.”

Junhee smirks, nudging your shoulder. “Bullshit. You were full on staring. What, you into weirdos now?”

The laughter gets louder.

Jiyeong leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait, don’t tell me… Is that your secret girlfriend? The mute perv who stares at your tits in the dorm?”

They dissolve into cackles, and someone even fake gags. You force a laugh, sharp and practiced, the one you use when you need to shut something down fast.

“Stop being assholes.” You say, rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “As if. I would never go for a creep like that. She’s literally always hiding in her hoodie like she’s allergic to sunlight. Gross.”

You keep your voice light. Casual. Mean in the exact way they expect. And they buy it. The teasing shifts. Someone starts imitating Semi’s hunched walk, another makes exaggerated “staring” eyes, and the conversation moves on to safer territory: some frat guy who ghosted after a hookup, weekend plans, who’s hooking up with who.

You laugh along. Nod. Throw in a sarcastic comment when it’s your turn.

But your face is burning.

The blush won’t fade. It creeps down your neck, hot under your collar, and you can feel it. You tug your ponytail tighter and cross your arms over your chest like that’ll cool the flush. It doesn’t.

Across the quad, Semi disappears around the corner of the building. She never looked up. Never saw you watching.

You sit there for another twenty minutes, nodding at the right times, smiling when you’re supposed to, while your pulse hammers in your ears and your mind replays the exact second Semi’s hand twitched on her bag strap.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. You tell yourself the flush is just embarrassment from their teasing. You tell yourself you don’t care where she’s going, or what she’s drawing in that sketchbook, or whether she’ll be waiting quietly in the dorm when you get back.

You tell yourself a lot of things.

None of them stick.

That night the dorm feels smaller than usual.

The RGB lights are off. Semi must have powered down her PC earlier. The only light comes from the faint streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. You walk in without turning on the overhead, letting the door click shut behind you like a period at the end of a sentence you don’t want to finish.

Semi’s already in bed, sitting up against the headboard with her knees drawn up, manga open on her lap. She looks up the second you enter, eyes wide behind her glasses, then drops her gaze immediately, like she’s been trained to.

You don’t speak.

You kick off your shoes, strip out of your jeans and top in one fluid, impatient motion, leaving yourself in just the black thong and bra you wore all day. The air feels cold against your skin but you barely register it. Your pulse is too loud, too fast, drowning everything else.

The girls’ voices keep looping in your head.

Ew, what are you looking at?

Is that your secret girlfriend? The mute perv?

As if. I would never go for a creep like that.

You cross the room in three steps.

Semi’s breath catches when you climb onto the bed without preamble. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that familiar mix of awe and terror.

You grab her by the front of her hoodie and yank her forward, hard enough that her manga tumbles to the floor. She makes a small, startled sound but doesn’t resist.

“On your knees.” You say, voice flat. “Behind me.”

Semi blinks once, confused, then scrambles to obey.

She’s never been the one setting the pace before. You’ve always been on top, always dictating every angle, every rhythm. This is new. Different.

You turn away from her and drop to your hands and knees on her bed, ass up, back arched the way you know makes her lose her mind. You don’t look back. You can’t. Somewhere in your soul you know if you see her face - those big, wet puppy eyes - you’ll crack.

You hear the rustle of fabric as she shoves her sweats down, the mattress dipping behind you. The heat of her body looms close, then closer.

Her hands hover uncertainly over your hips, and you snap.

“Jesus, just fuck me. Now.”

Semi makes a tiny, panicked noise in her throat. Her cock is rock hard against your thigh, but her movements are clumsy and hesitant. She lines up wrong the first time, bumps against you awkwardly, tries again and misses the angle completely. Her breathing is fast, shallow, almost hyperventilating.

You grit your teeth.

This isn’t working.

You don’t want her fumbling. You don’t want her in control at all, not tonight, not when the word girlfriend is still echoing in your skull like a bad joke.

You reach blindly behind you, fingers closing around the silk sleep mask you keep on your nightstand. You twist and shove it at her.

“Put it on.”

Semi freezes.

You don’t repeat yourself.

She takes it with shaking hands and slips it over her eyes. It makes her look even more vulnerable - lips parted, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven.

Better.

You turn back around and push her flat on her back before straddling her hips. One smooth, punishing drop, and you sink down onto her, no prep, no teasing, just the thick stretch of her filling you completely. Semi’s head snaps back against the pillow, a raw, choked whimper tearing from her throat.

You ride her hard.

Fast. Merciless. Hands braced on her chest, nails digging through her hoodie, hips slamming down again and again. You keep your eyes on the wall, on the ceiling, anywhere but her face. You don’t want to see the way the blindfold darkens with tears, don’t want to see how her mouth opens on silent pleas.

But it’s not the same.

The rhythm feels off now, hollow. You’re chasing the high you usually get from breaking her, from watching her shatter under you, but tonight there’s nothing to watch. No glassy eyes to lock onto. No trembling lip to mock. Just her body responding - hips jerking instinctively, cock throbbing inside you, whimpers muffled against her bitten lip - but it’s distant. Mechanical.

Your stomach drops.

This isn’t control. This is avoidance.

And you hate it.

You hate how much you miss seeing her face.

You stop moving.

Semi’s hips stutter once, twice, then still, confused, terrified she’s done something wrong.

You reach down slowly, fingers finding the edge of the sleep mask, and you pull it off. She blinks against the sudden dim light. Her eyes are wide, wet, pupils blown. Tears track down her temples into her hair. She looks up at you, unguarded, like she’s waiting for the next blow.

You hold her gaze, really hold it. No mockery. No cruelty. Just you and her.

Your hips roll once again, slow this time. Deliberate. Deep.

Semi’s breath hitches. Her hands twitch at her sides but don’t rise. She keeps them flat on the mattress, palms up, like she’s still waiting for permission even now.

You lean down.

Closer.

Closer.

Until your forehead rests against hers. Until you can feel every shaky exhale against your lips.

And you ride her like that, slow and deep, eyes locked on hers the whole time. No words. No commands. Just the wet slide of your bodies, the hitch of her breath every time you clench around her, the way her pupils dilate wider with every roll of your hips.

You feel her start to tremble when her cock swells inside you, pulsing, so close. You don’t speed up. You just keep that steady rhythm, forehead pressed to hers, breathing the same air.

When she cums it’s quiet this time, almost silent. A broken, shuddering gasp against your mouth, hips jerking up, flooding you with heat. Tears slip from the corners of her eyes but she doesn’t look away.

The sight of her tips you over.

You cum with a soft, punched out sound, walls fluttering around her, thighs shaking as you grind down one last time.

Afterwards you slump forward, collapsing onto her chest. Her heartbeat thunders under your ear, fast and unsteady, dangerously alive. Her arms stay at her sides. No embrace. No clinging. Just open palms against the sheets, fingers curling slightly like she wants to touch but doesn’t dare.

You lie there. Sweaty. Spent. Breathing hard. Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks.

You close your eyes, feeling her heartbeat eventually slow under your cheek, the warmth of her body seeping into yours.

For the first time in a long, long time, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel like anger.

It feels like something else.

Something you’re too scared to name.

The following night sees you at a frat house two blocks away, the house raging with noise, sweat and cheap beer.

You came because Mia dragged you, insisting, “You’ve been weird lately, come blow off steam.” You also came because staying in the dorm with Semi’s quiet waiting felt too heavy tonight.

You’re in the short black dress you know turns heads, the one with thin straps and a hem that rides up when you move. It felt powerful when you put it on. Now it just feels like a target.

You’re three drinks in when he finds you.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Frat letters across his chest. The kind of smile that says he’s used to getting what he wants.

“Hey, cheer girl.” He says, voice cutting through the music. “Saw you at the last game. You’re fire on the field.”

You give a polite half smile. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t take the hint, stepping closer. Too close. His hand brushes your arm like it’s casual. When you shift back, he follows.

“You look good tonight.” He says, eyes dragging down your body slow and obvious. “That dress is doing things to me.”

You attempt to laugh it off. “Yeah, well, I’m just here to dance.”

He grins wider. “Dance with me then.”

“I’m good.”

“Come on. One song.”

You turn toward the crowd, trying to melt into the bodies, but he’s right behind you. His hand lands on your lower back. You twist away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He laughs, loud, like it’s funny.

“Chill, babe. Just dancing.”

His friends are watching now, smirking like this is entertainment.

You step back again. “I said no.”

He crowds you anyway, back against the wall now, nowhere to go. “You’re in that dress, shaking your ass all night. I mean, you’re practically asking for it. What’d you think was gonna happen?”

You shove him, hard, and he stumbles back a step, more surprised than hurt. His friends explode into laughter.

“Damn, she’s feisty!”

“What a tease.”

He recovers fast, straightening up. He grins again, but it’s meaner now.

“Whatever. Your loss.”

He turns away like you’re the one who embarrassed herself. His friends keep laughing, loud and mocking, as they slap him on the back and disappear into the crowd, while you stand there, breathing hard, hands shaking.

The music keeps pounding.

No one checks on you.

No one asks if you’re okay.

You push through bodies until you hit the front door, cold night air hitting your face like a slap. You walk fast, heels clicking on the sidewalk, arms wrapped tight around yourself even though it’s not that cold.

The whole way back to the dorm, the words loop in your head.

Asking for it.

Tease.

Your loss.

By the time you reach your floor, your throat is tight and your eyes burn.

You don’t cry yet. You just need to get inside. Get safe.

Get to her.

You push open your door.

The room is dark except for the faint blue glow of Semi’s PC sleep mode. No RGB cycling. No soft lamp on her desk. Her bed is empty, blanket smoothed, pillow untouched, manga volume closed on the nightstand like she left in a hurry.

She’s not here.

Your stomach drops harder than it did when that guy crowded you against the wall. You stand in the doorway for a long second, chest heaving, waiting for her to appear from the bathroom or the common room or anywhere. Nothing.

The silence presses in.

You kick the door shut behind you. It closes too loud. Your bag hits the floor, shoes follow. You don’t bother with the light.

Instinctively, you cross to her bed instead of yours and collapse face down onto her pillow, burying your face in it. Her scent hits you instantly - vanilla body spray, clean laundry, the faint metallic tang of her piercings or solder or whatever it is that always clings to her skin. It’s familiar. Safe. The first real thing that’s felt safe all night.

A sob rips out of you before you can stop it.

Muffled against the pillow at first, then louder, uglier, shoulders shaking so hard the mattress creaks. Tears soak the fabric immediately, your fingers twisting in the comforter like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

Why does this feel safer?

Why does the thought of Semi, of all people, make the panic in your chest loosen just a fraction?

You can still feel that guy’s breath on your neck, the way his grip tightened when you tried to pull away, the way he called you a tease like it was your fault for existing in a short dress. And yet here you are, on the bed of the girl who’s spent weeks staring at your tits, the girl you’ve called a creep to her face, whose bulge you’ve mocked and teased and ridden until she cried.

And you feel… safe.

Safer than you did surrounded by “normal” guys who know how to talk, how to smile, how to pretend they’re not animals.

You hate that realization, how it sits in your gut like lead.

You don’t know how long you cry like that, alone in her bed, in the dark, dress rucked up around your thighs, makeup streaking down your face.

Until the door opens quietly.

You freeze mid sob, breath hitching.

Footsteps stop just inside the room.

Semi.

You feel her staring. That heavy, careful gaze you know so well. She doesn’t move for a long moment. You can hear her breathing, uneven, confused, like she’s trying to process why you’re here, in her bed, crying like this.

Slowly, you sniffle, and lift your head just enough to look over your shoulder through watery, swollen eyes.

She’s standing frozen in the doorway, backpack still slung over one shoulder, sketchbook tucked under her arm, hoodie zipped to her chin. Her lips part like she wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Her eyes are wide behind her glasses, shining with something raw and heartbroken. She glances at the floor for a heartbeat, throat working hard, then back to you.

She looks like her heart is breaking just from seeing yours in pieces.

She closes the door softly, then drops her bag to the floor with slow, deliberate movements, like she’s afraid any sudden noise will shatter you further.

She shuffles over until the mattress dips behind you. You tense, waiting for questions, for awkwardness, for anything that will make this worse.

She doesn’t give you any of it.

She settles slowly, really slowly, curling her body around yours from behind. Tentative at first, barely touching, giving you every chance to pull away.

You don’t.

You press back into her warmth instead.

Her arm slides around your waist, the most gentle touch you’ve felt all night, thumb beginning to stroke slow, shaky circles on your bare arm.

You break again.

Soft, hiccuping sobs this time, quieter, but deeper. Your whole body trembles. Semi tightens her hold just enough, chin tucking against your shoulder. No words, just steady breathing against your neck, heartbeat thudding fast against your back like she’s scared too.

You cry until your throat is raw and your eyes burn and there’s nothing left but shaky inhales.

She doesn’t let go. She doesn’t ask. She just holds you. Silent. Safe.

And in the quiet space between your sobs and her steady breathing, a realization shifts inside you, slow, terrifying, undeniable.

You’re falling for her.

Not the control. Not the power. Not the way she whimpers when you use her. Just… her.

The girl who freezes in doorways when she sees you hurting. The girl who doesn’t ask why because she knows it doesn’t matter. The girl who holds you like you’re something precious she’s terrified of breaking.

The girl who’s been waiting, patiently, quietly, devotedly, while you’ve spent weeks pretending you don’t need her.

You close your eyes, feeling her thumb still moving in those slow circles, her heartbeat under your back.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that at some point the sobs fade to hiccuping breaths, then to nothing. Her thumb keeps moving in those slow circles long after you stop shaking.

When you wake, the room is dimmer. Streetlight filters through the blinds in thin gold stripes. The clock on her monitor says it’s been a few hours.

Semi isn’t beside you.

But you’re not cold.

Her thick black comforter has been tucked around you carefully, edges smoothed, cocooning you from shoulders to feet. Your chest does something painful and warm.

You sit up groggily, blanket pooling around your waist. Mascara is crusted on your cheeks, hair a disaster, dress twisted and wrinkled from sleep. You don’t care.

Semi is at her desk, back to you, headphones half on, controller in her lap. The screen glows, her character inactive mid round. She must have heard you stir because she begins to turn in her chair, and her eyes meet yours.

For a second neither of you moves.

Her lips press together in that awkward, sheepish way she does when she’s nervous. A small, polite smile flickers across her face, hesitant, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to look relieved that you’re awake. Her glasses are slightly crooked. Hair mussed from where she must have run her hands through it earlier.

She just sits there. Waiting. Not pushing. Not asking.

You swallow. Voice raspy, small.

“…What are you playing?”

Semi blinks, startling like you shocked her. For a heartbeat she looks like she’s forgotten how to speak. Then, very quietly, almost a whisper, she answers.

“Overwatch.”

The sound of her voice - low, hoarse, soft around the edges - hits you like a wave. Butterflies erupt in your stomach so violently you almost gasp.

You curse yourself internally. What the fuck? She’s the one who used to stare like a creep. She’s the one who whimpers and blushes and waits. You’re supposed to be the one in control.

But your palms are suddenly sweaty. Your heart is tripping over itself just from hearing her say a video game name.

Semi’s still watching you, careful, like she’s waiting for the punchline.

You clear your throat and force words out.

“…Can I try?”

Her eyes widen behind her glasses, genuine surprise flickering across her face. Then the tiniest quirk lifts the corner of her mouth, not quite a full smile, just… something warm.

She nods, rolling her chair closer to the bed so you don’t have to get up. She sets up a new game and hands you the controller. When you take it from her, your fingers brush. Both of you freeze for half a second but neither pulls away first.

Semi leans in slightly, voice still quiet but steadier now.

“Okay. Left stick moves. Right stick aims. Triggers shoot. This one’s jump, this one’s sprint. You’re Soldier, he’s good for beginners. Just… try not to die in the first ten seconds.”

She sounds almost apologetic.

You’re terrible at first.

You die in under fifteen seconds, running straight into crossfire because you forgot which way is forward. Semi doesn’t laugh or tease, she just murmurs, “It’s okay. Happens to everyone,” while you respawn.

Second round you hide behind a box for thirty seconds before someone flanks you. Her voice stays soft. “Just peek left. Don’t hold it. There. Good.”

Third round you hit someone. Not a kill, just damage. But Semi makes a tiny approving hum.

Then, by some miracle, you line up a shot, click, and the enemy actually drops.

Kill confirmation pops on screen.

You bounce on the bed, one happy little wiggle, a genuine squeal slipping out before you can stop it. “Oh my god, I did it!”

You whip your head toward Semi, seeking approval like a kid with a gold star.

She’s already looking at you, and she’s beaming.

A full, bright, unguarded grin, cheeks rounded, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. It’s the cutest, most disarming thing you’ve ever seen. Pure pride. No hesitation. No fear.

Something inside you snaps taut like a string pulled too hard.

You feel it all at once: warmth flooding your chest, a stupid flutter behind your ribs, your throat closing up like you’ve swallowed something too big.

It’s too much. Too soft. Too real.

You’re still holding the controller, mid bounce from that kill, but the joy quickly curdles fast into panic.

You force a polite smile, the one you use when you need to exit a conversation without explaining why.

“I, um… I need to shower.” You say, voice coming out quieter than you mean it to as you gesture to your mascara streaked face.

Semi’s smile falters, just a flicker, then she nods quickly, like she’s afraid to make it worse.

“O-okay.” She whispers.

You hand her the controller, and your fingers brush hers again. This time you pull back too fast.

You grab your towel and shower caddy from your side of the room without even looking at her, and the bathroom door closes behind you with a soft click. You lock it.

You turn the shower on hot, letting the water run until steam clouds the mirror. When you strip out of your dress and step under the spray, the heat hits your skin like a slap. You stand there for a second, head tipped back, eyes closed, letting the water pound against your face, your shoulders, your chest.

Then the tears come.

Quiet at first. Silent. Mixing with the shower spray so no one could tell the difference. But then they aren’t quiet anymore.

You press your palm to your mouth to muffle the sobs, but they keep coming, deep, aching tears, the kind that hurt your ribs. Your knees buckle, and you slide down the tile wall until you’re sitting under the stream, arms wrapped around yourself, forehead against your knees.

You cry for the guy at the party who wouldn’t listen.

You cry for the way your friends laughed like it was funny.

You cry for the way you laughed with them, calling Semi a creep to their faces while your cheeks burned just from the sight of her.

You cry because Semi, quiet, awkward, devoted Semi, looked at you like you’d just won the world when all you did was click a button and get a kill in a game you barely understand.

You cry because that look felt better than any orgasm you’ve milked from her in the last three weeks.

You cry because you’re falling and you hate it. Because you’ve spent months building walls of control and cruelty so no one could get close enough to hurt you, and she slipped right through without even trying. Because she held you tonight without asking why, without demanding anything, and it felt like coming home in a way nothing else ever has.

The water runs cold eventually. You stay under it until your teeth chatter and your skin is pruned.

When you finally shut off the tap, the bathroom is thick with steam. You wrap yourself in a towel, wipe the mirror with your forearm and stare at your reflection.

You look wrecked.

You feel worse.

You pull on cozy pajamas. Nothing sexy or teasing tonight, just comfort. Just you.

When you open the bathroom door, the dorm is still dim. Semi hasn’t moved from her desk. The game is paused again, and she’s sitting there, hands in her lap, staring at the frozen screen like she’s trying not to look at you.

On her desk, right beside her keyboard, is a plastic bag from the campus takeout place. Two styrofoam containers and a bottle of iced tea.

She swallows when she sees you, looking up slowly. Her voice is barely there, hoarse, nervous, like she’s afraid you’ll snap at her for breathing too loud.

“You… haven’t eaten.” She says. Simple. Factual. “Want some?”

Your stomach flips. Not from hunger, from her. From the quiet way she noticed and ordered food while you were crying in the shower and didn’t make a big deal out of it. From the way she’s looking at you now, not expectant, not demanding, just… there.

Butterflies explode in your chest, wild and frantic. It’s terrifying.

You nod once. Small.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I do.”

She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours. Then she stands, grabs the bag, and brings it over to her bed. You sit on the edge of the mattress together, close enough that your knees brush, but not crowding.

She simply opens the containers and hands you a fork. Doesn’t ask what happened. Doesn’t ask why you cried. Doesn’t ask anything. Just sits with you.

You eat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, while the butterflies in your stomach settle into something warmer. Something scarier.

Something you’re starting to think you might not want to run from anymore.

︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Part 3

So what was this feeling? The growing ache and disgust (dare you say) that emanated from your heart?

Recently there was this girl that belonged to the photography club of Seijoh. Her semester task was about movement and she thought that capturing the volleyball team in the middle of training was a good subject, you had to agree with her since it was honestly a cool approach.

Now that automatically meant that she had to spend a lot of time with them, and consequently with Oikawa.

Your walking home conversations started to include a lot of this girl and what she did while they were at practice, how Kindaishi was so nervous he served directly to her and Oikawa was the one who protected her. You know, light stuff like that

Then it evolve into "Oh I'm full dear, Himiko-chan brought some snacks for us and coach approved it, they were soo good!"

Himiko-chan this, Himiko-chan that. Hell, even Iwaizumi seemed a little bit too engaged with this Himiko girl

And today was the day of a supposed date between Oikawa and you since the season had ended and he had more free time

But when you went to the gym to pick him up, green clouded your eyes

This girl was showing Oikawa some photos from her professional camera but she was way too close. Not really touching but, I mean, if he didn't knew what type of perfume she had on then he got sensory problems.

Either way he would have problems with you because how doesn't he notice his dear Himiko-chan is acting way to lovey dovey to be showing just pictures

And he was eating that up, you noticed the slight pride of his gaze and his stupid little smirk

The way you announced your presence with a clear intonation of his name made everyone jolt on their place

Except of course, the threat

"Tooru-kun you have to go now? For real?"

You clenched your fist and tried to put your best customer smile. The audacity of this girl

"Yes he has to go cuz he promised to come when his practice ended. Now if you excuse us"

Oikawa's cheek had turned red, thanks to which feeling? You didn't want to know

"Hey sweetie I didn't forget or anything I swear I just-"

"Oh you just were way too invested in whatever it was that you didn't notice your practice had ended like 20 minutes ago and you didn't inform me if you were alive"

"Aww come on you knew I was alive-"

"Don't you try to play this down Oikawa"

He flinched a little, wow, using last names and everything

"What else did I do wrong?"

"Take a funny guess since you've been spending oh so much time with me"

You knew you were being what people called petty. But how could you not? Sure you would communicate and give him hints but on GOD if he actually didn't know why you were acting like this

You both stayed in silence for a couple of blocks until Oikawa snapped his fingers

"This is about Himiko-chan isn't it?"

"This is about Himiko-chan isn't it?" you mimicked with mockery

"You jealous?"

The tease in his tone would have made your heart jump and your mind to think about a quick come back. But not today

"You tell me Tooru. She's been taking hours from our quality time and I swear you're dumber than Iwa gives you credit if you don't notice she's flirting with you"

"Well I don't answer to her advances,i don't know what you're so defensive about"

Now instead of green, you saw red

"But have you stopped her? Have you given me my place? Or how is it that after months you don't look uncomfortable in the slightest"

You let all your thoughts out, you were exhausted

"Were you enamoured by the renewed feeling of admiration? How she talks sweetly to you to get your attention?"

Silence, once again

"Hmm, just what I thought"

"No babe wait"

"Go home Tooru, I'm not responsible for what I'll say next if we keep this conversation going"

A week passed by and you avoided Oikawa everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He barely saw a glimpse of your hair or your hand turning around a corner. And the emotional loneliness he started to feel was eating him up, but even he knew it was a selfish thought

He knew he had to redeem himself if the apology was ought to be sincere. And oh how he didn't want to mess this up with you

Everyone else but you

"Tooru-kun"

"It's Oikawa for you"

You didn't expect to be listening to a convo like this on a friday afternoon. Add to your shock the utter serious tone Oikawa was using, the one he talked Kageyama to, the one he used when talking to rivals

"B-but you've let me call you like that for a while"

"I didn't give you an explicit green flag to go about it, I ungracefully just let you, I shouldn't had to"

The audible wince of Himiko made you feel a little bad for her. But at the same time you were impressed on how collected Oikawa was behaving

He was not caring about how this girl was going to react

"Don't get me wrong Himiko, you're a great photographer, truly" A set of silence

"But I hurt the person I love the most when I tried to brush your intentions"

You were fully resting your body against the wall, now being all ears to what was developing almost in front of you

"It was bad for you sure, now I see how misleading that was, but I could had stopped it if I gave my girl the bare minimum respect"

He sighed and accommodated his backpack, it was heavy enough for you listen to it. That was accompanied with little sobs, thankfully not yours

"So I'm now telling you: I love my darling, more than anything in this shallow world" Another sigh

"And that means we'll need boundaries if you want to keep your project up with us. Understood?"

A broken answer was given and Himiko-chan was finally out of your radar, the pit pat of her shoes merging with the environment

"Well well, now to find my baby and apologise in a decent oh"

You stepped out just in time to be at his level

"Did Iwa coached you to this?"

"No I...." He sighed heavily and gave you a sad look "I Reflected on what you told me and I realize how is not enough to 'stop doing' is also about 'start doing' and that is... Actually give myself as off limits even when you're not around"

He looked right at your eyes, a little puffy, a little hurt

A little hopeful

"I'm sorry. I assure you that I didn't even entertained the thought of having something with her, not even in a joking idolistic way....

"It still hurt Tooru"

"I know, so please, let me make it up to you"

Because Oikawa Tooru was better boyfriend than anyone could give himself credit. Because the thing that was being with you filled him more than anything in the universe, to the point he was willing to die to himself. Die to his ego

His fans would come and go as the wind

But you, you were his eternity

Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader (timeskip)

You had to blink multiple times as to register how Kuroo's folder is now weirdly color coded with bright papers

"Tetsu what is this? Never knew you were into crafting?"

"What? Oh! That's Nana's doing"

"Nana?"

Ah yes, Kuroo's "work wife". You had been his plus one in a recent JVA dinner party and this "Nana" was a hot topic. Apparently she was everyone's work wife, but seemed to have a soft spot for what was yours

"Yup, she saw my folder and gave me an earful of how I was supposed to function as a member of a sport promotion division if I couldn't keep my stuff as organised as volleyball is"

"Oh ok?"

"She's a big help for all of us, don't you think?" Like that he kissed the crown of your head and headed to the room, as if was nothing

One day, two days, a whole week goes by and she keeps coming into your house in the form of an embroided lavender flower on a handkerchief, the one you gave to him on his promotion day

Then is a bag of baked goods (you hated to admit that those little b*tches tasted like heaven)

An useful-for-the-house trinket, a handmade magnet with the office's checklist. More and more favors and gifts keep coming

And yet you have a blank space on who this woman is, who has that much time in an office to be so lovey dovey with everyone. And how subtle does she appear to be so your husband didn't even flinch at these forms of affection

It didn't sit right to your heart how comfortable Kuroo seemed to be with this whole show

Then Kuroo started to arrive late, later than he used to. Nor that he acted in a sketchy way apart from that but still... It was like a punch to your throat. Your mom had always told you "If your man stays at work more than they need him too, is cuz he found a reason to stay there"

So you did what every sane person would have done in a situation like that. Go to his office and see the truth for yourself

The ding of the elevator was brown noise to you. Stepping out of it immediately brought the attention of your husband coworkers, they obviously knew who you were

Then a little hunched lady, someone old enough to be your granny, stepped in to greet you

"Heya miss, Who are you looking for darling?"

"Oh uh good evening I'm looking for Kuroo Tetsuro"

"Ah yeah he's drinking something in the break room, let me get you there"

Both of you walked to the said place. The woman smelled like fresh baked cookies and you couldn't help to smile, it wasn't common to have older people in places like this. You were happy for her on whatever dutie she was performing for a volleyball agency

"Excuse me auntie, do you know if perhaps he was with someone, a girl maybe?"

"I've seen no other woman more than you crossing those doors miss. So, unless we have a surprise colleague here, no dear"

Soon you reached your destiny and you found Kuroo.... Alone, drinking his plain tea

"Tetsu-chan this gorgeous woman was looking for you"

You grimaced internally, if the new eye candy wasn't in this division did that mean that he was chatting with her on the phone? Did they crossed each other on bars? The fear was consuming you

Ironically, Kuroo seemed a little too thrilled to have you there in front of him. He shifted his feet slowly but there was not an ounce of guilt or fear in his eyes. You really didn't know if that was good or bad

"Oh my Nana you're an angel getting her to me. Thank you, I'll be back in a minute"

Wait, hold up

"Nana?"

"Oh yeah that's my name darling, a little too young toned isn't it?"

You blinked once, twice

"You're his work wife?"

The lady furrowed her brows and looked at Kuroo as if she wanted to bury him underground

"Do you boys keep with that nonsense? Do you know how disrespectful it sounds to your partners? These young people I swear" she said shaking her head and sighing deeply

Kuroo only had an amused smile and held you tightly as you both now faced the troubled Nana

"I don't use the term itself blame Kento-san from marketing"

He was cut off by your giggling and your figure crouching almost touching the floor

"Oi what's so funny?"

"I'm not making fun of you, I'm relieved" you said between watery giggles

"I thought... I thought you were having a work wife in more ways than one"

Both of them looked at you. Your husband in horror and sadness, Nana with compassion and understanding

"Hon, if this man was cheating believe me that by now he would have his eyes far up his -"

"Oi Nana-san the CEO needs ya, oh shit sorry I interrupted something"

Needless to say the man (Kento-san) was taken away by his ear thanks to your new friend

You kept on the ground for a while until Kuroo sat down right beside you

"Did I neglect you that much the last week?"

You shook your head "It was a mix of you arriving late and the little gifts she gave to you... I would had appreciated if I knew the infamous Nana was the office's assigned grandma"

"She's actually our CEO's granny, but takes care of us like we are her kids"

"Huh then why did they called her 'work wife'? That's a Freudian shit right there"

He laughed and held your hand giving it a soft squeeze

"Well this is my sign to better communicate my anecdotes.... I'm sorry"

"Mmm... OK actually why were you so late tho?"

His laughed echoed into the small room and he took a handkerchief filled to the brim with beautiful embroided flowers

"Learned to did this in a week. Sorry, I should had tell you"

You sighed in relief once again "God we suck at surprising each other"

"I was gladly surprised to see you here today wifey, except for the cheating suspicion part. I never want you to feel like that ever again even if it's a misunderstanding"

In a sudden movement and manhandling moment, he put you up to your feet and he kneeled in front of you smiling, just like when he asked you out in college

"So.... Will you give me the honor of being my home AND work wife? Forever?"

You were the next week's hot topic on why Kuroo seemed extra relaxed and laid back, almost dreamily meeting his deadlines as the tiniest marks of purple peaked through his perfect ironed shirt.

"Lucky bastard. You'll be a dad in no tim-! ouch! Nana-san!"

Semi Eita x Reader (timeskip)

"Eita I assure you that if moshpits weren't as aggressive I would be in the public but I... It scares me ok?"

"Baby it's like a grown up version of push and pull. Besides you can always step aside when you want"

You whined under your breath and buried your head in the nearest pillow "I don't wanna Semi please?"

"Doll I can't have you packed up in the scenario each time, this place is reduced and you may get hurt upstage"

Huh?

"Are you serious?"

What started like a little banter about you being at the same level as his attendees migrated to an argument about his apparent worry

"If I'm such a hassle and a nuisance backstage you could just had said so"

"That's definitely not what I meant"

"Oh really? Then how is it that I'm safer surrounded by men and women at least 6 cm taller than me that will be jumping around looking for the next non alt looking girl to yeet into the distance?"

"Oh please" Semi said as he rolled his eyes and stood up, picking his stuff from the couch

"If the things I love actually frighten you so much you're free to stay here"

Without the chance to answer he closed the door with a soft 'click'

Your only companion was the sting under your eyes and your misty vision

Later, when you were already curled up in bed trying to catch some sleep, you felt the soft steps of Semi's boots against the floor. What brought your attention to a more conscious state was the muffled sound of his voice chatting with another on the doorstep, then the same 'click' and now he was walking throug the apartment.

You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep, scared of the confrontation on what happened earlier

To your blessing or rather dismay, Semi only connected his phone to the charger and layed down on his side of the bed with a soft 'huff'

The next day brought a new heartache to your soul as Semi wasn't there when you woke up. You cried, again

Then a text caught your eye, it was Semi's

"A new drummer joined the band yesterday"

Three dots.... Three dots...

"We'll be celebrating and introducing them in the pub near our apartment if you wanna come"

You wiped the remainder of your tears as you looked at your closet. You knew how that pub looked like, you knew what type of regulars it had.... And it was nothing like you

Afraid of what his words would be this time you rejected the invitation

"Not feeling so well Eita, I'll pass. Enjoy yourself"

And boy he did enjoy himself

Semi made him present at the fashionable 4 am mark of your kitchen clock, high on excitement with loud laughs and sentences. You heard his confession into the dark of the dawn even before he arrived to the porch

"I haven't had this fun on ages guys, you, you are a monster"

A quick glance through the window gave you context of his fond words

A woman with the most luscious black hair ever, tall, built like a model with full on rock attire was the one receiving the praise.

You stepped back from the window and ran to the bedroom, to the safety of your bed

If she was the new drummer you couldn't help but to feel a little self conscious, hell you felt a lot self conscious

And it didn't turn better, because the next days, even if Semi never picked up the initial argument again, he seemed to be relevied of not having you in his gigs. And there were always, always, words of amazement for Mrs drummer girl

Rei knew where to find the last instrument gadgets, knew a lot of classic bands, knew this and that. She was not only pretty but was a whole library on Semi's interest

"Rei's pretty skilled with the drums doll, you should come and see us play soon"

And watch him flirt with her on the stage? No thank you

But then, after a pep talk with your friends. You saw how you shouldn't leave it like this, at least you should fight for the relationship, right?

So, you paired some of Semi's clothes that actually fitted you and arrived to the place were he would play. You walked up to the stage and saw Rei, fidgeting with the drumsticks, playing around

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

And she surely noticed your gaze however her reaction shocked you. She rested her cheek on her hand and gave you a soft look,then she was called backstage and gave you a playful wink before disappearing through the courtain

If she was being a redemption of a reverse pick me girl she was playing it rather convincingly

Soon after you felt your sleeve being tugged by an astonished Semi

"Hey there, you haven't come for a while. Why didn't you tell me? I could have walked you here"

His demeanor made you uncomfortable. It would be a lie to say that you weren't hurt by his (apparently) forgotten words and his newfound "obsession"

"I knew how to arrive just right, I'm not a scary kitten"

He then opened his mouth but was cut short by his bassist

"Yo Semi time to come up here, we're 'bout to start"

He sighed and gave you an apologetic look "Come here, we can talk when we finish"

"I'll stay down here"

"Hah?"

You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him the look

"I said I'm staying here, I don't need to be up there since it is so inconvenient"

"Babe you're still at it? Come on-"

"Eita man hurry up!"

He furrowed his brows and groaned. But as he looked at you he knew you were to stubbornly stay there

"We'll talk about this later. Be safe"

And with a jump he got on the stage as the place started to get crowded

The gig was good, you always enjoyed it. And being honest, the only mosh pit that developed during it didn't even end with a broken nose, so you actually spent a good time with this new perspective

Surprisingly, you noticed how Rei and Semi's interactions on stage were futile. Maybe a look or two but nothing that made your heart clutch of pain on your chest. It felt rather natural

Finally, after the last encore, all the band +you were in the dressing room. Semi seemed ansty to talk to you, masked down with his usual frown

Rei had only chuckled and smiled at some of the parts of the conversation. So you came up to her, if she was shitty you could have fundaments for hating her, if not, you knew you should focus your temper on Semi

Until she opened her mouth and you were on for a surprise

"Damn Semi if I knew your girl was gonna be here I would have put on some cologne"

That was a whole ass man

"You're...... You're a guy"

She, he? Chuckled loudly and gave you a crooked smile

"What can I say? I'm taking 'Dude looks like a lady' to a whole new level love"

A string of uneven chords crossed the air and Semi placed down his guitar with the deepest scold on his face. Not even with the teasing Tendou had you seen him like this

"Stop flirting with my girl"

"D'aww I'm your protège. Don't I even deserve a peck?"

"Don't you even dare"

After some more teasing, a wrap up of the gig and a smack at the back of Rei's head you both were now walking back home

"Didn't know you thought Rei was a lady" was Semi's cut into the silence

You scowled in embarrassment

"I had never spooked to him and he looks even better than me, it's not fair how pretty his hair is"

Then you felt the same tug on your clothes, well his clothes

"They suit you, you know? But I love your usual outfits too"

"Eita...."

"What I'm trying to say is.... I'm sorry, for dismissing your worries, for accusing you" he chuckled dryly "And for making you worry about a non existent woman"

"Hmm?"

"I know the look you get when you're worried, and you stopped wearing that glittery eyeshadow you love. You only do that when you're fully stressed"

He held both of your hands giving them soft kisses over the knuckles

"I'm sorry, don't ever change or expose yourself for the sake of demonstrate me something"

You sighed, feeling light hearted and with renowned affection for the man in front of you

"I have to apologise too. I talked a little bit from prejudice about the public, I actually had a nice night, most of them were incredibly polite"

"Still" A shared laugh between you and you were back home

"Let me make it up to you?"

"Find out Rei's hair products and all be good"

"And you won't get close to him?"

"Hmm maybe?

"Babe!"

Woh another rq from months ago that I managed to finish ( ´ ▿ ` ) ah I'm embarrassed on how long it took me anon I hope you're around to see it

As usual with long stuff it may have different vibes, I hope its decent to read for y'all