𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾.𝗆𝗉³

it was a wonder jay and sunghoon were so close, despite their seemingly clashing morals when it came to romance and women.

where jay was a sweetheart, sunghoon was a heartbreaker. and where jay was an angel, sunghoon was the devil.

you were present for a few of the times where jay would go apeshit on sunghoon. claiming that he ruined his chances with a girl he liked simply because he was associated with sunghoon.

"just say no!" jay would repeatedly tell sunghoon like a broken record.

but sunghoon claimed his heart was too big to say no to the many beautiful women who threw themselves at him. he felt as though continuously trying to clear his name after every fling he had or after sleeping with some girl was too much work. and to put it quite frankly. completely unnecessary.

so he just continued despite the exaggerated rumours.

though… they weren't really rumours.

they were true.

for the most part.

so, sunghoon let them talk their talk. in his mind he was convinced that he wasn't doing anything wrong. and his best friend had to suffer from the unfortunate consequences.

what sunghoon really wanted or rather who he wanted…

was out of reach.

because the one and only rule jay had for sunghoon was that you were off completely limits.

a rule that was sickeningly hard to abide by. much like sunghoon whenever you would strut across the living room in the tiniest pieces of clothing. the parts of you he shouldn't be seeing barely slipping out.

begging to be touched by him.

"yn, where the fuck are your clothes?" jay bellowed at you, but quickly focused back on whatever show he and sunghoon had playing on the TV.

"please, you're so dramatic," you rolled your eyes, dropping yourself into the empty space beside sunghoon. you stretched across him, reaching into the bowl of popcorn between the two.

and sunghoon could've been a gentleman.

he could've moved the bowl closer to you.

but the hand you rested on his thigh to brace yourself. the warm smell of vanilla that wafted off your freshly shampooed hair. the slight pressure of the side of your body against his chest as you moved.

they all stopped him dead in his tracks.

"i'm about to go to sleep," you muttered in between bites.

"go to sleep then, we're busy."

your eyes flick over to sunghoon for back up, giving him a small pout with a tilt of your head. he was slouched between you and jay, with his legs sprawled open, wearing a smile that was hardly contained by the gum in his mouth.

his attention entirely on you.

he slumped himself further into the couch, not so subtlety adjusting his sweats underneath your gaze, "i don't mind."

jay turned his head toward sunghoon only to find his face illuminated by the blue light, checking out his little sister. "you…" jay jabbed at sunghoon's ribs.

a warning.

"ow—"

"you watch yourself."

you clench your thighs together at the mere suggestion of sunghoon showing any type of interest in you.

though you were entirely sure jay was just being dramatic. as he always was.

it wasn't like you've never thought of sunghoon in that way. of course you had. how would you not?

he was taller.

bigger.

stronger.

older.

you've seen him shirtless countless of times. and you've seen him when his body was soaked wet with a towel around his waist looking like it was ready to slip off at any minute.

he had seen you at basically every phase in your life.

and despite sunghoon's bad reputation, you were bound to end up having some sort of liking towards him sooner or later.

"behave," you mutter to yourself, really. you weren't aware that you said it loud enough for sunghoon to hear. not until you feel his body lean closer into yours.

"what was that?" he spoke softly near your ear. and you stiffen. all of a sudden too hyper aware of how much your pajamas didn't cover.

you kept your face glued to the blue light in front of you. because you didn't know what type of reaction you would have to whatever smug expression sunghoon had on his face.

and you would rather not fold under pressure in front of jay.

"i said," some wave of confidence came over you when you finally replied, "be good for him, sunghoon."

his voice dipped a little lower. barely. but you could tell in the way his cool minty breath felt on your ear, "you know i'm always so good."

you swallowed at that.

breath hitching. eyes fluttering close—for just one small second.

notes; the older brother’s bsf trope is one of my favourites lol. & erm this is also lwk exposure therapy to stop me from being scared of posting my writing🤗😹

[solonenova library ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･]

© solonenova. all rights reserved.

jungwon is every parent’s dream. polite, hardworking, respectful, fun, and annoyingly handsome—so you already knew that the second he met your parents, they’d be absolutely head over heels for him.

it was a wrap from day one. after only two months of dating, you were already introducing him to your family. you didn't have any second thoughts about moving that fast because you just knew jungwon was the one—the guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. and just like you predicted, your parents were hooked the moment they laid eyes on him. it got to the point where they were bragging to every single relative about their "incredible son-in-law" and how you’d basically hit the jackpot with him. (never mind the fact that you were their actual daughter, but whatever).

after that first meeting, your parents were practically begging you to bring him over every time you visited. the gossip about him spread through the family like wildfire. soon enough, all your aunts and cousins—even the ones you couldn't stand—were dying to meet the man. that's how you ended up getting roped into the annual family retreat, where everyone packs up and rents a massive vacation house for the weekend.

when your mom called you monday morning to extend the invitation (which, let’s be real, was more for jungwon than it was for you), your gut instinct was to shut it down. none of those people actually gave a damn about you; your aunts were professional shit-talkers who, before jungwon, loved to whisper about how you’d end up a lonely cat lady. but jungwon, being the "perfect" boyfriend he is, jumped on the phone and promised your mom that you guys wouldn't miss it for the world.

and that’s exactly how you ended up stuck at a country estate with at least twenty people, half of whom were practically tripping over themselves to get a second of jungwon’s attention. at least your male cousins and the little kids weren't phased, but the rest of them? it was embarrassing.

you were left fighting for crumbs of your own boyfriend's time while dealing with backhanded comments about how you better "keep it tight" or you’d end up losing a guy like him. and don't even get started on your fifteen-year-old cousins—they looked like they went into heat every time he walked into the room.

by the time friday night rolled around, the crowd had drained you both so much that you just crashed into bed, barely having a second to breathe, let alone touch each other. saturday morning gave you a tiny window—a five-minute getaway behind one of the guest houses that turned into a frantic make-out session—but it was cut short when your dad started shouting for jungwon to go fishing. that little taste of him didn't help; it just poured gasoline on the fire.

the rest of the day was straight-up torture. see, despite the "golden boy" act, you knew the real jungwon. he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he got off on pushing your buttons.

he spent the family lunch with his hand hidden beneath the heavy tablecloth, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of your panties. he’d squeeze your inner thigh, his thumb grazing your pussy every time he laughed at one of your uncle’s jokes, leaving you breathless and clinging to your fork just to stay upright. later, when you leaned over to pull a cake out of the oven and your grandma stepped out for five seconds, he didn't just smack your ass; he kneaded the flesh firmly, his rings cold against your skin, before whispering a filthy promise about what he’d do to you later.

even in the pool, with your little cousins splashing around just a few feet away, he was relentless. his hands were steady underwater, tracing slow, agonizing lines over your ribs and down to your hips, his fingers hooking into the side of your bikini bottom just enough to let the cold water rush in against your heated skin. he was playing you like an instrument, making sure you were well-aware of exactly how much he wanted you, all while flashing that innocent, dimpled smile at your mom.

by sunset, you were flushed—partly from the sun, partly from being annoyed by your cousins, but mostly from the sheer desperation jungwon had been building up in you all day. he’d spent hours keeping you dripping wet, making sure your lace was soaked and your head was spinning, with no sign of when he was actually going to finish what he started.

you were counting down the minutes until you could finally get him alone. but then, the universe decided to fuck with you. your uncle showed up, rallying all the men for an overnight hunting trip. jungwon gave you this fake-ass "guilty" smile as he said goodbye, his eyes dark with a secret amusement as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. you had to head to bed alone to take care of your own problem, frustrated and aching, while they spent the whole night out in the woods.

when you woke up sunday morning, the sun was already blazing through the windows of the vacation house. your dad, your uncles, and jungwon had just gotten back from the hunt, and all you got was a quick, sleepy "goodnight" kiss before jungwon crashed into bed, completely dead to the world. you knew right then that, once again, you weren't getting a single second of alone time with your boyfriend.

frustrated and still feeling the tension from saturday, you threw on your bikini and a pair of denim shorts—the only thing that made sense in this heat—and tried to get through the morning. you spent the next few hours in the kitchen with your mom and aunts, helping prep lunch while the sounds of the kids splashing in the pool echoed from outside.

"the roast is almost done," your mom noted, pulling off her apron and wiping some sweat from her forehead. "another thirty minutes and we can call everyone for lunch." you nodded, letting out a tired yawn as you leaned against the marble counter, scrolling through your phone.

"can you keep an eye on it for me? i want to go get some sun and gossip with your aunts before your father wakes up and ruins the vibe," she said with a little smirk. you just shrugged.

"sure, mom. no problem," you replied, just wanting some peace and quiet.

"perfect! just yell if you need anything, we’ll all be out by the pool," she smiled, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before heading toward the glass door that led to the patio.

you caught yourself yawning again, your mouth feeling dry from the heat. you reached into the fridge to grab a soda, but the second the cold air hit your face, you felt firm hands grip your hips. something warm and hard pressed right into your ass, and before you could even let out a gasp of surprise, a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth.

"it's just me, baby," you heard him whisper. the vibration of his voice—that low, smug rasp that only jungwon had—made the tension drain out of your body instantly, replaced by a massive jolt of adrenaline.

"jungwon, you scared the shit out of me!" you hissed against his palm as he let go. you turned around in his arms, hooking your hands behind his neck, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

his hands didn't stay still, though; they slid down to possessively cup your ass, his thumbs tracing the thin line of your bikini bottoms peeking out from the waistband of your shorts. he bit his bottom lip, pulling back just an inch to look at you, his eyes dark and hungry—the look of a man who was done playing the polite guest.

"it wasn't my intention," he says, though the smugness in his voice implies the exact opposite. his hands giving the soft flesh of your ass a firm, full-handed squeeze that makes you jump. you can feel the heat of his erection pressing hard against your stomach, and you instinctively swat at his chest in a weak attempt to keep him at bay.

"jungwon, not here! anyone could walk in at any second," you protest, your voice barely a whisper. he lets out a mock sigh, pouting like a disappointed kid who didn't get his way.

"too bad. i really thought you missed me as much as i missed you," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips are brushing against the shell of your ear. the heat of his breath sends a violent shiver down your spine, leaving you weak in his arms.

"i did," you say, your voice failing you. "you know perfectly well i did." the words come out as more of a whimper when he slides one hand back to your waist while the other slips underneath the loose fabric of your denim shorts. his bare palm meets your skin, kneading your ass without the barrier of your clothes, and you lose your train of thought completely.

"but we’re in the kitchen... anyone could come in," you try to argue again, but your body is betraying every word. you tilt your head to the side, exposing the sensitive line of your throat and giving him all the room he needs to leave a trail of wet, bruising kisses against your skin. he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing you just hard enough to leave a mark.

"then just don't make any noise, baby," he smirks against your skin, licking his lips as he pulls back to look at you. before you can even think of a comeback, he crashes his lips onto yours, taking you in a kiss that's hot, desperate, and heavy with everything he’s been holding back all weekend.

your tongues battle for dominance, the kiss turning filthy and hungry—the kind of kiss that absolutely does not belong in a family kitchen with a roast in the oven. you lose yourself in him, one of your hands tangling into his hair, messing up those perfect strands, while the other grips the back of his neck, your nails scratching lightly against his skin. the small growl that escapes the back of his throat only makes your heart race faster.

jungwon doesn't hold back either. his hands are everywhere, roaming possessively over your sides, his touch so hot it feels like he’s branding you through your skin. he pulls you even closer, hitching your leg up over his hip to pull your center flush against his hardness, making sure you feel exactly what you’ve been doing to him. his fingers hook into the edge of your bikini, tugging it just enough to make you gasp into his mouth, his tongue swirling against yours to catch every sound.

the kiss deepens, turning into something carnal and frantic. his tongue sweeps against yours with a desperate rhythm, tasting like he wants to swallow you whole. your fingers dig into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no air left between you. just as you're starting to feel lightheaded from the sheer intensity of it, jungwon suddenly grips your waist and spins you around, pinning your front against the cold marble counter.

the sudden change in position makes your head spin. you try to find your voice, try to be firm and tell him this is too risky, but he’s already burying his face in the crook of your neck. his kisses are messy and hot, trailing down your spine and making your skin crawl with a desperate kind of electricity. you can feel his rock-hard erection pressing ruthlessly against your backside, and he doesn't stop there—he starts simulating slow, agonizing thrusts against you, the friction of his own shorts against your skin making you see stars.

"jungwon, seriously," you whisper, your hands clutching the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles turn white. "someone... someone is gonna walk in."

he doesn't even pause. his hands move to the button of your denim shorts, undoing it with practiced ease before sliding the fabric down your thighs. "then don't make a sound, baby," he murmurs against your shoulder, his voice dropping into that dark, gravelly tone that always undoes you.

as soon as your shorts hit the floor, he delivers a sharp, stinging smack to one of your bare cheeks. the sound echoes in the quiet kitchen, followed immediately by a muffled moan that you can't quite catch in time.

"god, you're so perfect," he growls, his fingers digging into the soft flesh he just marked. he doesn't waste another second, his nimble fingers finding the thin strings of your bikini bottoms. with a sharp tug, the bows unravel, and the silk fabric falls away, leaving you completely exposed to him in the middle of your parents' kitchen.

jungwon picks the small piece of fabric up, bringing it to his nose and taking a slow, deep inhale. his eyes never leave yours, dark and clouded with a hunger that makes your blood run hot.

"you're such a pervert," you hiss, your face flushing a deep shade of crimson as you try to cover yourself.

he just lets out a low, dark chuckle, stuffing the bikini into the pocket of his shorts for later before stepping back into your space. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling your naked heat flush against his body. he starts to grind his covered cock against your bare skin, the thin fabric of his shorts barely providing any barrier as he grazes your sensitive pussy in a way that makes your knees buckle.

"maybe," he whispers, his lips ghosting over your earlobe. "but no one out there would ever suspect a thing, would they?"

you open your mouth to complain, but the words die in your throat the second you feel him shove his own shorts down just far enough to free his pulsing length. you bite your lip, glancing over your shoulder to see your boyfriend giving himself a few quick, firm strokes. his eyes are dark, clouded with nothing but raw lust as they roam over your body, curved helplessly over the counter. it’s like he’s trying to burn the image of you into his brain forever.

a shaky sigh escapes your lips as he uses the head of his cock to spread your own slickness along the length of his member. by now, you’re so incredibly wet that you can feel it starting to drip down your inner thighs. you rub your legs together, the friction making your core pulse with an ache that’s becoming unbearable.

"look at you," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "you're already a mess for me, aren't you? been thinking about this all night while i was gone?"

with one hand, he gathers your hair and pulls it over your shoulder, exposing the sensitive skin of your back and neck. his other hand clamps down on your hip, his fingers digging in deep to anchor you. he lines himself up, the broad head of his cock stretching you open as he begins to push inside your cunt, agonizingly slow.

you immediately shove your own hand into your mouth, biting down on your knuckles to stifle the cry that wants to rip out of you. jungwon lets out a low, guttural grunt into your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

"fuck, y/n... you're so warm. it feels like you're trying to swallow me whole," he whispers, his pace picking up as he finds his rhythm. "i've been waiting for this, you know? all day yesterday, every time i touched you under that table... this is what i wanted"

he starts to fuck you with a steady, punishing rhythm, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the kitchen, muffled only by the hum of the oven. just as you're starting to lose your grip on reality, he drives in with a particularly deep, heavy thrust that hits your sweet spot perfectly. a loud, sharp moan escapes you before you can stop it.

"y/n? honey, is everything okay in there?" your mom’s voice rings out from the pool area, sounding way too close for comfort.

your entire body freezes in an instant, your muscles clenching around him in a tight, panicked grip. jungwon lets out a choked, pained grunt at the sudden sensation, his eyes rolling back for a second.

"fuck," he hisses against your neck, his voice trembling. "you just got so much tighter... you're trying to kill me."

you look back at him, your eyes wide and filled with pure panic, but jungwon just flashes you that same devilish, dimpled smile that everyone else thinks is so innocent. he gives you a playful, demanding little nudge with his hips, urging you to keep it together.

"answer her, baby," he whispers, his eyes dancing with mischief as he waits for you to lie to your mother while he’s still buried deep inside your dripping cunt.

you’re shaking so hard you can barely breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. the irony isn't lost on you—your mother is just outside, thinking you’re being the helpful, responsible daughter, while the perfect boyfriend she adores is currently buried deep inside you on the kitchen counter.

"y/n? did you hear me?" your mom calls out again, and this time you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the sliding glass door.

jungwon’s eyes flash with a predatory glint. instead of stopping, he grips your hips and forces you to lean even further over the counter, stretching you out until you can barely see the digital timer on the oven. the movement forces his cock even deeper into you, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming.

"y-yeah, mom! stay out there, don't worry," you manage to choke out, eyes blurry as you stare at the glowing numbers. "i'm keeping a close eye on it... it’s got about five minutes left. just... just stay with the others!"

"alright, if you say so!" she calls back, her voice finally fading as she heads back toward the pool.

the second she’s gone, jungwon loses all restraint. he slams back into you with a ferocity that makes your knees shake, his hand flying up to cover your mouth to muffle the desperate, high-pitched moans breaking from your throat.

"good girl," he growls against the back of your neck, his breath coming in ragged hitches. "watch your voice, baby. we wouldn't want anyone coming in to check on you now, would we?"

he pulls back just an inch before driving home again, harder this time. "look at you," he whispers, his voice dripping with a dark, degrading edge. "my little slut, getting so worked up because your mom is right there. you loved that, didn't you? getting filled up while she’s asking about lunch. you’re so much wetter now just because we almost got caught."

the sensation is overwhelming—the heat of the kitchen, the scent of the roast, and the raw, heavy thud of his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over. as he continues to fuck you senseless, one of his hands slides down from your waist, reaching under your body to find your clit. he starts to rub you with a frantic, expert rhythm, his thumb circling the sensitive peak while his other hand remains clamped over your mouth.

the double stimulation is too much. your vision swims, and your internal walls start to seize around him in violent waves. you come hard, your body bucking against the counter as a muffled, broken cry is lost against his palm. jungwon grunts, his own body tensing as he follows you over the edge, a low, guttural growl vibrating through his chest as he cums inside you.

he doesn't pull out immediately. he stays there, breathing heavily against your shoulder, giving you a few more slow, possessive thrusts to milk every last drop. he watches with a dark sense of pride as a white ring starts to form around the head of his cock, your combined fluids slicking the skin. you let out a weak, overstimulated whine, your body far too sensitive.

finally, he slides out of you with a wet, heavy sound. he reaches down, pulling your shorts back up over your shaking legs and adjusting his own clothes with a terrifying level of composure. he leans in one last time, pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to your flushed cheek from behind.

"be a good girl and keep all of that inside you for the rest of the day, okay?" he whispers, his voice returning to that innocent, "perfect boyfriend" tone. "i’m gonna head back to the room and wait for the food. see you at lunch, baby."

he gives your hip a final squeeze and slips out of the kitchen as quietly as he entered. you’re left leaning against the marble, legs trembling and head spinning, staring blankly at the glass door.

a second later, the sharp, piercing beep of the oven timer fills the quiet kitchen.

the roast is done. and so are you.

Jungwon sits on the edge of your bed, hoodie clinging to him, heat trapped beneath it like a punishment. He should probably take it off, but he doesn't. Somehow the discomfort keeps him grounded. Keeps him from saying or doing what he’s been thinking about for the past hour.

He spreads his knees slightly, trying to play it cool, even as his pulse betrays him. The sight of you on the floor between his legs—close, curious, and looking up at him like that—doesn't make it easy to keep calm.

He tries to think of anything except for what he thinks (hopes) is about to happen, pushing away the image of your mouth on him. It’s only been three weeks since you started dating, so of course he doesn’t expect anything.

You’re still new to this, a virgin, and Jungwon meant it when he said he was fine taking things slow—he still does. But meaning it doesn’t make it any easier. He’s clearly underestimated what three weeks of breathless makeouts, heavy petting, and messy dry humping that left him half out of his mind would do to him.

He’s never had to do this before. He lost his virginity years ago, back in high school, and hasn’t had to consider the ache of waiting since. But now he remembers it all too clearly: the dizzying frustration of stopping himself again and again. It’s maddening.

But he still comes back every time you invite him over. Sometimes he even asks first. Not because he expects anything, but because being near you is worth the inevitable ache he knows will follow. Because he likes you—your laugh, your presence, and the way just being near you makes everything else fade.

And the nights always start innocent enough: a movie, your head on his shoulder, a few soft kisses. He tells himself he’ll stop there, hold back for his own sanity. Then somehow, you end up under him, panting and telling him it’s okay, that he can touch you there.

And lately, you've been bolder. You take his hand now instead of waiting for him to ask. You guide him, tell him where to touch, whisper quiet, careful things that make him want to cross the line. But he doesn't.

He never does. He always listens. Always tries to breathe through it, tries not to let you see how close he is to coming undone even when it feels like his composure's hanging by the thinnest of threads. And when he thinks that thread might snap, he pulls away, excuses himself to the bathroom, or makes up some halfhearted lie to get out of your apartment.

Jungwon’s never liked anyone the way he likes you. Every glance, every touch, every quiet moment with you sets his body on fire in a way that makes him feel like he’s the virgin. But he’d rather burn himself up from the inside than risk going too far.

That's why, tonight, when you grab his wrist just as he shoots up—legs half off the bed, ready to make a desperate run for the bathroom—he freezes.

He's so wound up he almost thinks he imagined it, but then you say his name and ask again. “Do you want me to help with that?”

His breath stutters when he follows your line of sight to the obvious strain in his basketball shorts.

Jungwon doesn't move at first. The sound of your voice still hangs in the air, soft and sweet, and you're looking up at him with those wide eyes that make him feel his heartbeat everywhere: in his throat, in his hands, in his dick.

Every instinct tells him to say yes. To say Fuck yes! But instead, he gathers every last functioning brain cell not currently held hostage by his body and lies through his teeth.

"It's fine," he says, voice strained and breaking halfway through. "You don't have to. I just—need a second."

But you don't buy it. You smile that bright and easy smile that always knocks the air out of him, and slide your hand into his.

"I know I don't have to," you say softly. "But I want to."

Jungwon forgets how to breathe for a moment. The words hit him harder than they should and before he can pull himself together, you're guiding him back down on the bed again, gentle but sure. The mattress creaks when you slide off and on to the floor, and Jungwon's suddenly caught somewhere between gratitude and panic as you situate yourself between his legs.

You rest your hands on his knees once you've settled, and the warmth from your palms shoot straight to his dick.

"You're gonna have to talk me through it. I've never done this before."

That makes his dick jump.

He laughs nervously under his breath, hoping you don't notice. His hand flexes at his side before he leans back, raking it through his hair to calm the buzz under his skin. You can see the outline of him even better like this, and it makes your stomach flip in the best way.

"Okay," he breaths, swallowing hard. His voice is shaky, almost a whisper. It's nervous, like the word’s stuck in his throat.

He runs a hand through his hair again, messing it up even more before he lifts his hips just a bit, giving you space as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and boxers. You help him slide them down, your hands trembling with excitement, his with that shy hesitation.

The fabric catches on his thighs for a second, and you have to give it a more earnest tug before they slip down to his knees, and then his cock springs free, heavy and hard against his stomach.

Your eyes widen, a flicker of alarm crossing your face as you freeze, staring. "Whoa... it's... big," you blurt. You say it in an almost whisper, voice a mix of awe and nerves.

Jungwon's fully aware he's...above average in that area, and it’s never really been a problem before. Other girls have handled it fine. Hell, most even seemed to enjoy it. But right now, with you looking at him like that, he suddenly feels shy and exposed, like he's some big dicked freak.

"Shit, sorry," he mumbles, voice cracking a little. 'I know it's... a lot. We don’t have to do anything, if it's too much. We can just chill or whatever. I don't want to freak you out or anything."

He’s rambling. His cheeks are suddenly burning hotter, and he shifts awkwardly, briefly contemplating covering himself before thinking better of it. He thinks you might pull back, put off by the size, but you don't. Instead, you bite your lip, and this excited spark lights up in your eyes.

"No, it's okay.” You say quickly. Then your voice comes softer, slower. “Can I... touch it?"

He nods, relief flooding him.

"Yeah," His voice steadies as he talks you through it, gentle and patient. "Just wrap your hand around the base—yeah, like that."

Your palm closes around him, warm and careful, fingers barely meeting. It's thick, veiny, the tip is flushed and already leaking a bead of precum. It's bigger than you'd imagined for your first time. Way more intimidating up close.

It pulses under your grip, smooth but firm, and you give it a tentative stroke. Jungwon lets out a low groan, head tipping back a little. “Yeah, like that. Thats good.”

You can't help but inspect it like it's some kind of fascinating science experiment, turning your head this way and that, eyes wide and curious.

"Does it always get this hard?" you ask, giving it a light squeeze.

Jungwon breathes out a laugh. "Pretty much."

"And the veins. There's so many. Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. It's just… like that I guess."

You hum.

Jungwon watches you, your face all focused in wonder, and he thinks you look so cute it's ridiculous—like a kid discovering something wild for the first time.

"What about here, the tip? Is it supposed to be this slippery?"

He gasps when you run your thumb over it.

"Yeah. It's pretty sensitive right here, so when you touch it—oh fuck!"

His words cut off as your tongue darts out, licking along the underside experimentally.

You startle a bit and pull back when he sucks in a sharp breath. "Sorry! Did that hurt?!"

"No, no, it's fine. That was actually good. I just... you caught me off guard."

"Oh...Sorry," you say again, smiling shyly.

“Nah, it’s cool. You can…” He hesitates, scrambling for words, trying not to sound like the kind of guy who’s only thinking about getting off. But god, he is. Badly. “…you can, uh… keep going, if you want.”

“Yeah? Like this?”

You toss a loose strand of hair over your shoulder before you delve down again, careful this time. You try swirling your tongue over the sensitive spot, but you go too fast, and it slips off, making a wet sound. You giggle nervously, glancing up at him. "Sorry, that was messy."

Jungwon smiles. "No, it's hot. Keep going. Open your mouth wider and take the tip in."

You do, lips stretching around him, sucking lightly. It's awkward at first. The motion feels strained and foreign and your teeth graze him a tiny bit. Jungwon winces then chuckles.

"Easy, babe. Just...relax your jaw. Use your top lip to cover your teeth, and your tongue to cover the bottom."

You nod, feeling silly, but you do as he says anyway then sink back down. This time, the sound he makes is a quiet, shaky kind of sigh, like relief caught in his throat. His head tips back, breath hitching as you take him in, slick and smooth, every motion easier than the last.

His instructions must’ve clicked, because now you’re really doing it—sucking him off, finding a rhythm. It’s slow at first, careful, then a little faster once you’ve got the hang of it. Jungwon’s hand finds your hair, fingers slipping through and resting there. Not to guide, not to push, just to be close. To hold you steady while he tries to remember how to breathe.

Saliva builds up quick, dripping from the corners of your mouth. It's messy, spit trailing down his shaft to your hand still stroking the base. Jungwon's breathing picks up, hips shifting but not thrusting. He's trying his best to hold back, to let you take the lead.

"You're doing great," he praises, voice soft and sweet. "Suck a bit harder now. Try to hollow out your cheeks."

You hum around him, and the low vibration pulls a groan from his throat—raw, unrestrained. You try to take him deeper, too fast this time, and gag softly before pulling back with a gasp. A thin strand of saliva clings between you, catching the light as you wipe your mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” you manage.

Jungwon's eyes darken at the sight of you, face flushed, lips wet and swollen from your efforts.

“Don't apologize. You have no idea how hot you look right now.”

He leans down for a quick kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, then he says, “Try again, yeah? Go slower this time."

You go back down with a new found confidence, lips wrapping around the head as you draw a slow, deep breath through your nose. You start moving again, steady, sure, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you slide down further. Your hand works in sync at the base, twisting gently, matching the bob of your head.

Everything’s slick now, and the heat and spit make it easy to find your groove again. You slowly fall back into a steady rhythm. One thats seamless, almost hypnotic, and the room quickly fills with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your effort.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jungwon groans, fingers tightening in your hair just a bit. “Just like that. You're sucking me so good, baby.” His nervousness fades as you get the hang of it, and his hips rock up subtly now.

You take it well, even taking more of him, throat relaxing enough to swallow around the tip. It’s still messy, drool slipping down your chin, dripping onto his balls, but you don’t care. Jungwon’s reactions spur you on, urging you to go harder, and you keep going, steady and intent, chasing every sound he makes.

“God, your mouth feels amazing. Keep going, baby. I'm close.”

You speed up, sucking harder, hand pumping what you can't fit, and Jungwon's breaths come in short gasps now. His grip in your hair falters, caught between wanting to hold on and the need to let go as he struggles to stay still, to stave off the impending unraveling, but then you moan around him, soft but wrecking, and that familiar pressure starts to build low in his gut.

"Fuck—you should stop. I'm gonna cum," he warns, voice tight and urgent.

But you don't. You just keep going, bobbing faster, tongue working the underside as his cock throbs against your tongue.

"Babe, wait. Wait! I'm—oh shit!"

He panics a little when he realizes you're not stopping, but by then it's too late. His hips jerk once, twice, then he's coming into your mouth with a choked groan. You make a startled sound, but swallow anyway, and some dribbles out messily as you pull off, gasping.

Jungwon's eyes are wide, face flushed with a mix of bliss and worry as the last pulse fades. He sits up quick, hands on your shoulders. "Shit, oh god, I'm sorry! I said I was close, did you not hear me? I didn't mean to—fuck. I should've been louder. Are you okay?"

Jungwon blinks down at you, chest rising and falling with that familiar coil of guilt. But you smile up at him, eyes bright despite the mess of it all. You wipe a stray bit of spit from your chin before you say,

“Relax, Jungwon. I’m okay. I’m better than okay, and I heard you just fine. I wanted to swallow it." You say casually, shrugging your shoulders.

His eyes go wide at that, then he lets out an incredulous laugh. The sound is more out of relief than humor.

“You’re really something else,” he murmurs, shaking his head, still catching his breath.

You beam, cheeks flushed and glowing, the kind of smile that pulls the corners of his mouth up without him meaning to. You push up onto your knees. “So?” you tease. “How’d I do?”

“Perfect,” he says without hesitation, hands coming up to cup your face as if you’re something fragile. He presses a kiss to your forehead, voice softer when he pulls back. “Absolutely perfect.”

You grin, the mischief returning. “Good. Because that was actually really hot, and I can’t wait to do it again.”

Jungwon huffs out a little laugh, eyes softening as he takes you in— hair messy, eyes shining, and face still warm from everything that just happened.

“Yeah,” he says finally, “Me too.”

permies:

Six-foot nothing-but-trouble, starting point guard, baby-faced assassin with a highlight reel that ESPN couldn’t stop drooling over. The kind of guy who could miss class for two weeks straight and still have professors grinning at him when he finally walked in. Though his frame didn’t scream trouble, his game said otherwise. His playing style was all crossovers and footwork, the kind that had commentators whispering words like Kyrie Irving and generational talent. He didn’t just play basketball. He performed it.

If Riki were a heavenly figure, he’d be Christ.

To you, he was just a regular human being. Why exalt someone that did nothing to benefit you personally? Did he cure world hunger? Leak the cure for cancer—because you could promise one exists. Build homes for displaced families? Relieve students of crippling debt? Anything? The answer is no. So why? Why? Why do athletes make more than doctors? Teachers? Why do people that save the world and make positive contributions to society not get even a sixteenth of the recognition of those that run up and down a court or field for a living? That, you couldn’t find the answer to.

But besides that, Riki was everywhere. It was freaky, seeing his face plastered in various campaigns beside other college athletes. You couldn’t even walk into the dining hall without Riki’s face smirking at you from a Gatorade cutout. He was on billboards, a few campus shuttles, hell—probably someone’s phone wallpaper. You could almost see his New Balance campaign now, how many times you came across it. And the stupid slogan, hearing him say: “Nishimura. New Game. New Balance.”

Okay, while the line was kind of clean—it was just him that pissed you off.

And it was insane because you never even met this guy to judge him. While you were in proximity to him, your best friends being cheerleaders and sharing the terrifyingly large court with them—you really had nothing bad to say about his character. For all you knew, Riki could be an amazing guy with an even more amazing personality. But you never knew him, never spoke to him, never even locked eyes with this guy if it weren’t via an obnoxious billboard. You’d never seen this man play. Every time you stumbled on a highlight, you swiped away. He didn’t do shit to you, you simply hated the hype around athletes. Around sports in general.

Even in basketball, it was all so negative. All the commentators and fans did was discuss the past. ‘Jordan this. LeBron that.’ And if not that, they’d find some way to bash a player they claim to love. If you love this player so much, why say they’re washed up? At least you could respect football fans—they were delusional behind their teams.

Still, you didn’t hate Riki. Didn’t even dislike him.

Not until today.

—

Like most days, you sat in the Decelis Arena. Right on one of the bleachers in the student section. Your best friends, Yasmin and Bella, were cheerleaders and shared the arena with the basketball team most weekdays. So you hung out there, got some work done as you watched your girls from their side of the floor. The coach never said anything, it was an open practice as far as you were concerned. Plus you never gave them any issues. Never distracted, just stayed quiet and typed on your laptop—it was great. You got to be around your girls and be productive. The only downside was looking to the left and seeing the men’s basketball team.

But it wasn’t so bad to hear them get degraded while they were conditioning and running drills. The sound carried in the arena—sneakers squeaking, basketballs smacking the hardwood, coaches barking like drill sergeants. On the other end, your girls were bright and polished, high ponytails bouncing in perfect sync.

You sat tucked on the bleachers, typing away, invisible. As their practice came to an end, the men kept going. But Yasmin and Bella walked up to you and you felt them before you heard them. Thus, you closed your laptop as you peered up at them with a bright smile.

“You guys look dazzling as ever,” you teased, though Yasmin’s mascara was halfway down her cheek and Bella looked one toe cramp away from retirement. They stopped in front of you, grinning but panting in exhaustion as they simultaneously wiped sweat off their foreheads. “Dude,” Bella huffed as she plopped next to you. “I can’t do—” Yasmin pointed at her fiercely. “I don’t wanna hear that shit, Bells. I told you. ‘Can’t’ isn’t—” “In our vocabulary,” you and Bella chorused, laughing at the girl’s optimism.

Yasmin Alamilla was one of the kindest, most supportive women you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Always cheery (no pun intended), wise, and to be honest, at times her optimism when you were feeling low was almost annoying. Because how can one person just be so happy all of the time? But you loved her from the moment you met her and wouldn’t trade her for the world.

Bella Powell was the opposite. Sharp-tongued, dramatic, and stubborn in a way that could make you want to strangle her one second and hug her the next. She complained more than anyone you knew, but she was also the first to show up at your door with fries and milkshakes when you weren’t feeling it. Loyal to the bone—even if she’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Yasmin rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’ll be thanking me later.” She leaned her head back as she sipped from her purple water bottle. Bella groaned as she helped you pack your stuff, holding your backpack open as she looked at the girl still standing. “I will thank you, just right now my body’s not thanking me.”

“Did you stretch beforehand?” you asked. The answer was no. But before she could admit it, a freshly pumped basketball came beaming across the court. It wasn’t a throw; it was a bullet. A missile. Before anyone could yell “Heads!” or even “Duck!” it was already too late. The ball cracked against the side of your face, cheek first, the sting blooming hot and instant. The sound was sickening, a hollow thwack that echoed louder in your head than in the gym.

Your vision tilted for a split second, your cheekbone pulsing like it might’ve cracked under the pressure. The ball ricocheted to the floor, rolling harmlessly now, but your cheek burned like fire. Yasmin’s gasp came first, Bella’s curse second. Your pencil pouch slipped from your hands, pens scattering. The feeling was akin to when you’re taking something out of the toaster oven and you accidentally touch the hot rack—only this time the burn wasn’t a split second. It felt everlasting.

As shock rang through the arena, you could hear a pin drop. And that wasn’t even the most embarrassing part—it was the collective “Ooh…” from the people around you. “Yo—” a voice cut through the chaos, low and sharp. Sneakers squeaked across the court as Riki jogged over, sweat still glistening down his temple. He scooped the ball up in one fluid motion, spinning it on his finger before tucking it under his arm like he hadn’t just nearly concussed you.

“You good?” His eyes flicked to your face—quick, but not quick enough to hide the way he lingered on your cheek. “I’m fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, pressing your palm against the sting. “Doesn’t look fine.” He crouched slightly to your level, smirk tugging at his lips even though his brows pinched with something closer to guilt. “Bet you’ll have the Wilson logo on your face for the next hour.” Bella shot him a glare. “Not funny, Riki.”

Riki turned his head to Bella, amused, then looked back at you—smirk faltering as his gaze locked on you again. “Seriously, though. You want ice?” Maybe you were just reading into things. And as someone who tended to take up the observer role, you truly felt in your heart of hearts that this guy was the asshole you thought he was. To make a joke out of your pain—and no one’s saying he had to call the national guard—but to spin the ball like he was putting on a show? Rage bloomed hot in your stomach.

“I’ll get my own,” you muttered. Riki’s smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, that same infuriating confidence he always carried. “Next time,” he said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly, “don’t sit so close.” And just like that, he pivoted, jogging back to drills, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, leaving you to gather your pens and seething pride. You pressed your palm harder against your cheek, the sting sharp, and glared after him. Unbelievable.

The girls bent down to pick up your scattered pens and highlighters. Bella scoffed, “He’s such a dick sometimes. I’m so sorry, babes.” Yasmin frowned, brows creasing in worry. “That ball hit you something serious.” She handed you your fully stocked pouch. Tears brimmed your eyes. “I’m solid, this shit just hurts—Ow.” You hissed, leaning forward. “Here. Take this.” Yasmin rushed to grab Bella’s frozen water bottle and gently rubbed your back.

Yasmin gave you a soft, sympathetic look. “You really should’ve sat farther back. That kid’s got rockets for hands.”

You groaned, wincing as the sting radiated through your jaw. “Yeah, thanks for the tip,” you muttered under your breath, still glaring toward the court. Sure enough, Riki was back at it, running drills, tossing the ball between his teammates with that infuriating ease, smirking every time someone fumbled a pass.

“Ugh,” Bella muttered, nudging you. “You hate him already, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your fingers tightening around the strap of your backpack. Hate was a strong word. But there was no denying the wrath that had just been lit inside you. Something about the way he’d spun that ball, flashed that smirk, and then walked away like none of it mattered…it was aggravating. But you stood, your hand still glued to your cheek as you grabbed your bag. “I don’t hate. I detest. I resent. And I hold grudges because I’m childish.” You grit out, luckily the bottle gave you some relief. And as the two of you walked out of the arena, you moved the bottle from your face for the first time, the air hitting the stinging sensation and making you wince. “Does one side of my face look fatter than the other?” You stopped midway on the sidelines to give them space to inspect you. Bella squinted dramatically, tilting your chin this way and that like she was about to submit you to America’s Next Top Model. “Hmm. Honestly? You look like you just lost a round to Mike Tyson.”

“Bella!” Yasmin swatted her arm, glaring before softening as she leaned in. “It’s not that bad. A little rough, but the swelling isn’t obvious yet. Ice will help.”

“Yet?” you groaned, pressing the bottle back to your cheek like it was a lifeline. “Oh, fantastic. So tomorrow I’m gonna look like Quasimodo.”

Bella snorted, looping her arm through yours as you all started walking again. “A little bit, but at least you can brag that the Riki Nishimura was in your face and ice was involved.”

“Shut the hell up,” you laughed.

Yasmin shook her head, trying not to smile. “You’re impossible, Bella.”

“Impossible but not wrong,” Bella sing-songed, squeezing your arm. “Half the girls on campus would kill to have him that close, even if it meant getting smacked with a ball.”

Yasmin smiled, “yeah but those aren’t the balls they wanna be smacked with.”

You pointed to her with a dry look. “That’s disgusting.”

—

Next week

—

You returned to their practice despite debating even coming back to this place ever again. But this time you took the Head Huncho’s advice and did in fact sit a little higher up on the bleachers. The girls were getting changed and in the meantime, you got set up on the bleachers. Typical stuff. Laptop, cola, and your person—you.  The arena was relatively silent as it was just you and the sound of you unzipping and settling into the spot you were gonna be occupying for the next hour or so. So you got to typing, chipping away at the Philosophy essay you had due in a week. 

You heard footsteps coming your way and just assumed it was Yasmin—no one seemed to be as light on their feet as her. 

“Forgot your water again?” you called without looking up, fingers still flying across your keyboard.

Except…no answer. Just the scrape of sneakers against the bleachers and a low chuckle that definitely didn’t belong to Yasmin.

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Riki Nishimura himself—standing two steps below you, spinning a basketball against his palm like he was born with it.

“Bold of you,” he said, smirk firmly in place, “to sit in the line of fire again. Thought you learned your lesson last week.” You narrowed your eyes, instinctively bringing a hand to your cheek even though the swelling was long gone. You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your jaw clicked as you turned back to your computer.

He didn’t stop though, he just got closer. “How’s your face? I got you good didn’t I?”

“Fine,” you said robotically.

“Really?” He tilted his head, not seeming convinced. 

“Really.”

“Hm…” He nodded, the same smirk planted on his face. “Did you sleep on your right side for a few days?” He tested, letting his words hang with a teasing undertone. You sucked in a breath, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard as you turned to glare at him. “Do you go around asking random girls about their sleeping positions, or am I just lucky?”

Riki’s grin widened, infuriatingly boyish. “You’re funny.” He let out a small laugh, taping his fingers mindlessly—like this was second nature. Because it was.

“You really are as insufferable as they say.”

“And you,” he said, pointing the ball at you like a teacher with a chalk stick, “sit through two hours of sweaty practices when you probably don’t even like basketball. Which, respectfully, makes you insufferable.” Your face was plagued with repulsion. “I’m here because my friends are cheerleaders. I’m here for them. There’s people whose world doesn’t revolve around you, you know?” You scoff. “Fuck off, seriously.” Going back to your laptop, you angrily type. Your keyboard one more click away from not having a letter F. 

“Yes…Bella and Yasmin.” He hums as he points at you with a knowing look. “I like them. Both very beautiful girls.”

You ignored him because he hadn’t said anything untrue. But in any case, he needed to tread lightly when mentioning your friends.

“They are,” you said flatly, eyes glued to your screen.

Riki tilted his head, smirk tugging wider as if he’d caught a flicker of irritation in your tone. “Relax. I wasn’t hitting on them.” He spun the ball in his hands, the squeak of rubber filling the silence before he added, “Not my type.”

You arched a brow, finally glancing at him. “Oh, so you have a type?”

His grin was infuriating. “Don’t we all?”

“Careful,” you sing song. “New Balance wouldn’t want to know you’re out here objectifying women instead of selling sneakers.”

He huffed out a laugh, “cute, cute. You’re very cute.” Riki bounced the ball between his legs haphazardly, lifting a leg cavalierly as he looked at you. “You know, I really like girls like you. Girls that don’t like me. Turns me on.” “Oh my gosh, I never told you. But I write my name with yours in my notebook every single night before I go to sleep. I’m in love with you.” You deadpanned, saying this with no inflection whatsoever. For a second he actually froze, like you’d handed him an unexpected plot twist. Then the grin came back—slow, smug, all teeth. He bounced the ball twice before holding it steady in his hands. “Is that right? Interesting bedtime ritual.”

You felt your stomach do a stupid little flip and immediately hated it.

“You know what?” he continued, like he was considering the absolute worst and most entertaining idea. “I like a challenge.”

You raised a brow. “Do you now?”

“I do.” He tapped the ball once, twice. “Let’s see how long it takes me to make you say that without the sarcasm.”

“I’d sooner die.” 

“That’s the only thing that keeps me going.” He moves back. “Keep that pretty face safe for me.” He waves, batting his eyes as he jogs to the other side of the court. Dribbling the ball and swiftly passing it to one of his teammates, laughing with them as they overhear his teasing. And still, that seething rage in your stomach hasn’t left in over a week. 

It still persists. Even more so now.

—

Later that day

—

It was a nice, peachy evening. Clouds akin to cotton candy and the sun a cute lollipop in the sky. Bella and Yasmin were headed back to their dorms to get ready for bed. If they valued anything it was their beauty sleep. Which…real.

You, however, couldn’t enjoy your night. No. Not even in the slightest. In just twenty short minutes, you had a class. Never did you think you’d be one of the people taking an evening class, but your registration slot was less than favorable.

But some good music and walking off your heavy dinner was enough to keep your mood up. You zipped your hoodie up tighter as the evening breeze picked up, tugging at stray strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail. The sidewalks were practically empty, the campus bathed in that soft, peach-and-lollipop light that made everything look harmless. But you weren’t harmless. Not tonight. Not when every memory of Riki Nishimura—grinning, teasing, infuriating—was still pressed into your brain like a damn watermark.

You hated that he was everywhere. Again, in the dining hall right on the fountains—his jersey number—three—next to a Gatorade logo. Now, as you’re walking—a shuttle passes. He was unavoidable, his every being plagued your existence and before it was used to just be a ‘whatever, this is just annoying’ kind of way. But because he seemed to know you now, and target you in some way—it escalated from annoyance to near disdain. 

But of course, it seemed like you couldn’t think about him without it costing you. 

He smoothly stepped right in front of you—a smile as bright as the sun—cutting you off in your path. “Hey girl,” It honestly seemed like he came from nowhere and you stopped short, bumping right into his chest. He smelled like fresh laundry and faint cologne, the kind that lingered just enough. Worse, his chest was warm, solid—completely unfair. Head to toe in the signature New Balance sweats—grey—with the popular 530s to match. Very typical of him. 

You looked up at him, and this was the first time you’d seen him really up close. Upright that is. He wasn’t as small as the camera, or as huge as the cutout—or even his ego—made him seem. Granted, he was tall. Standing a solid six foot one. Beside his teammates, he was shorter. Which made sense, you didn’t need to be extremely tall to be a point guard—you knew that much. He carried the duality of a superstar and a regular guy all at once. Nothing about him was special yet, every last thing about him is. But you didn’t dare fix your lips to say anything remotely positive about him. You pursed your lips and sighed in defeat, not even having the energy for this at the moment—you quietly brushed past him without another word. But you didn’t make it very far, he was much faster than you ever were.

“Ooh, not so fast, mama.” He quickly stepped in front of you, holding his hands up in defense as you bumped into him again.

So in response, you stepped to the left.

He also stepped to the left.

You stepped to the right.

He also stepped to your right. 

You tapped your foot in frustration, nostrils flaring as you glared at him. Eyes narrowing when you saw the feign of ennui on his face. “I’m very good at this game…” He frowned, sighing as he waited for you to break. You lifted your non-dominant hand and checked your watch. You had less than fifteen minutes to get to your class and you didn’t have time to waste. With a groan, you looked back at him. “What the fuck do you want?”

The smile he greeted you with reappeared as he clasped his hands together. “Okay so…I wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” you nodded curtly as you brushed past him once more. He still reminded you that he wasn’t letting you go just yet. You sped walked in the direction of your class and he followed closely beside—his long legs eating up the space between you without another breath.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He matched your pace as he looked down at you. “Just let me get my shit off then I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not the only girl that’s heard that before?” You peered up at him with a sarcastic smile. 

Riki nodded slowly, accepting the jab. “Okay. Well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being so rude to you. I should’ve been more careful—while my pass wasn’t terrible, my teammate didn’t catch it and it just happened to hit you—”

“Why’re you blaming others in the midst of your own apology?” You scoffed as you turned a corner to go to the lecture hall. 

Before he could open his mouth, someone from afar shouted his name out. “Hey Riki!”

You instinctively turned your head the opposite direction. Not because you thought people would give a fuck—they most likely wouldn’t. It just seemed to be reflexive—you didn’t have much of an explanation for it. Almost like the one-off, fictitious bubble you thought you had with him burst and you couldn’t look at anything but the bushes to bring you back to reality.

Two people pulled up beside you two in a golf cart. Riki’s mood perked up as he greeted them. “Oh, hi guys,”

“Where you headed?”

Riki turned his head to you. “Where you going?” He said lowly, obviously taking your shyness into account. 

Your eyes flit to the side then back to his gaze. “South Hall.” 

He turned to the pair—two girls—with a bright smile on his face. “South Hall.”

The girls leaned over the steering wheel, beaming. “Hop in! We’ll give you a ride.”

Before you could wave them off, Riki’s hand landed lightly at the small of your back, steering you forward. “Perfect. We’re headed that way.”

Your head snapped up at him. We?

The girls brightened instantly, scooting their bags to make space on the back seat. “Yeah, climb in! Saves you the walk.”

You opened your mouth to protest—no way were you getting chauffeured across campus like his plus-one—but Riki was already sliding into the cart with that casual ease, patting the seat beside him like this was your cue.

“I’m fine walking—” you started.

The girl driving, her nametag reading Sydney—waved you off. “Girl, please. It’s nothing, we’re headed that way anyway.”

“Yeah, they’re already headed that way.” Riki smirked as he watched you step onto the cart. His hands up subconsciously to be ready to catch you if you slipped. 

You settled into the tan leather seats. “Thank you, girls, I appreciate it.” You nodded with a small smile on your lips, clutching your bag tighter than necessary. Sydney grinned back at you in the rearview mirror, while her friend—Maya, judging by the lanyard swinging around her neck—twisted halfway in her seat to wave you off. “Of course! We know how far South Hall is. Nobody should have to trek that after dinner.” The cart kicks as you pull off, breezing past the landscape and contemporary architecture. Paid for courtesy of the money that the athletics teams brought in from various donors and student dollars.

“Especially not after getting smacked in the face with a ball,” Riki added, leaning back like he owned the whole cart.

You shot him a look so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “You love bringing that up, don’t you?”

“History’s important,” he replied smoothly. “If I don’t remind you, who will?”

Maya giggled like he’d just delivered the funniest punchline of the century. You swore half the school was under his spell.

“Honestly, Riki’s right,” Maya said. “That pass was crazy. You didn’t even cry though. Respect.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to explain yourself. Because the truth was, you had flinched—you just did it internally where no one could see. But now, thanks to Riki, your little moment of public humiliation had become folklore. “You saw it?” Maya nodded, “yeah, I’m the basketball coach’s assistant. Well I didn’t see it but I, for sure, heard it.”

“The smack heard around the world—” Riki laughed, curling into himself as you slapped his rock-solid arm. “Shut up,” you hissed, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Maya reassured you, “it’s okay. It’s contained. Only a few people saw it.” She shrugged, “the amount of times the guys on the team themselves have been hit is like…”

“Incalculable.” Sydney chimed in as she made a left turn, breezing past other walking students. You frowned at the sight, you wish you could fit them all in the vehicle. 

“Totally,” Riki added. “You remember that game against Boston when Jay—”

“I’ve never seen any of the games.” You interjected, narrowly inspecting your nails—but as soon as you said that the cart almost jerked to a full stop.

Sydney’s head whipped around, eyes wide. “You what?”

Maya gasped, clutching her chest like you’d just told them you hated puppies. “You’ve never—ever?” The cart slowed as a group of students crossed, giving Riki the perfect stage to swivel toward you, brows lifted in mock offense. “Hold on.” His voice was calm, but his expression was all wounded pride. “You’ve been sitting in my arena, my practices, for how long—and you’ve never watched a single game?”

You blinked at him. “I’m there for the cheer practices. Riki—I’ve never even seen you do more than dribble the ball.”

“How is that possible?” He furrowed his brows.

You frowned in thought. “I just never paid any mind to your side of the floor. I just…look where the girls are or my laptop. Mostly my laptop.” 

They finally pulled up to the lecture hall. Both you and Riki slid out—thanking Sydney and Maya as you did. “Good luck, girlie.” Sydney gave one last smile before speeding off ahead. It went by a lot faster than you thought. By this point, the two of you stood on the sidewalk right in front of South Hall. Taking in the silence for the moment as you both looked at the horizon. The sun melted behind the glass neuroscience building. Causing the both of you to turn your gaze to each other as the light reflected into your eyes. The moment Riki did, he grinned. “Okay. You can stop acting cool, no one’s around.” He whispered. “I know you’ve seen me play—one of my games at least.”

You slowly shook your head. “I swear I haven’t.”

He conceded, “Fine. Well…as I was saying before we were interrupted. I’m sorry for hitting you with the ball last week. It was an accident, and I also apologize for being a bit of a dick to you.”

You squinted up at him, arms crossed. “A bit of a dick?”

Riki laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “A little bit…” He pinched his fingers together. You gave him a look as you waited for him to take it back. Letting his words simmer. “Not even just the tip?”

You sighed, running your hands over your face. “Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face—”

“I’m sorry, okay, okay!” He laughs as he waves his hands in front of your face. “I was joking…”

“Mmm…” you tilted your head at him, your heart beating a bit faster than it was before this conversation began.

He pursed his lips as he smiled down at you. A glint in his eyes that you don’t recognize. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“As a token of my apology, I want to invite you to my next game.”

You stared at him like he’d just suggested a blood pact. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon.” His grin widened, like he’d been expecting that answer. “Front row, VIP. I’ll even have your name on the pass list. You don’t even have to cheer for me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Fine, then come and boo. Loud. Make a sign if you want—‘Down with Nishimura’ or something.” He mimed holding up a poster, his expression all faux-serious. “I’ll wave at you from the free throw line.”

You snorted despite yourself, quickly covering it with a cough. “Why would I waste my Friday night watching sweaty dudes run back and forth?”

“Because sweaty dudes running back and forth is basically my art form,” he shot back smoothly. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a little. “Besides…you owe me.”

Your brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For traumatizing me,” he said without hesitation. “Do you know how much it hurts when someone tells you they’ve never seen your masterpiece?”

“That’s something called ego.”

He leaned in, close enough that his voice dropped into something teasingly low. “Same difference.” For a beat, you just stared at him, pulse tripping traitorously. “Dream on, Riki.” You turned, reaching for the heavy doors of South Hall, but his voice caught you right before you slipped inside.

“One game,” he called out, tone softer now. “Just one. If you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”

You froze, hand on the handle. He had to know you weren’t the type to fold under pressure—so why did his voice sound less like a challenge and more like a genuine ask?

Slowly, you glanced back. He was standing there with his hands shoved into his sweats, rocking back on his heels, watching you with a grin that wasn’t entirely smug.

You squinted. “You expect me to believe that? You’ll leave me alone?”

He pressed a hand over his heart, feigning sincerity. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’ve never been a scout in your life.”

“Exactly, so I’ve got nothing to lose,” he said easily. “C’mon. You sit in the bleachers twice a week anyway. This time, you get a show.”

You opened your mouth to shoot him down again—but the words got stuck. Maybe it was the sunset painting him in gold, maybe it was the echo of his laugh still buzzing in your chest, maybe it was the faint thrill of saying yes when every fiber of you wanted to say no. You saw why people liked him. When he wasn’t being a pompous, meat for brains, insipid asshole—Riki could be described in a very simple word: charismatic. Everything that he is, does, seems to rub people the right way. But the fact that it took over a week to get a full apology from him always rang in the back of your mind.

“C’mon mama, wherever you need to be, you only have five minutes.” He sang, as he glanced at his blue Superman watch.

You didn’t want to be bought by him, this was just some sick foreplay, if any. He said it himself, he likes people—girls—like you. The ones that despise him and aren’t so easily won. He probably thinks you two are flirting—he has been. You haven’t—not intentionally that is. The last week has shown you the type of person he is. He’s rude, careless, inconsiderate and for sure undeserving of your time. “Quick question.”

He looked up at you, lifting his brow. “Talk to me.”

“Those girls that drove us, Sydney and…Maya. How do you know Sydney?” You pulled the sleeves of your zip-up over your wrist.

Riki cocked his head to the side, “she’s Maya’s girlfriend. Why?”

Okay so, that didn’t exactly satisfy the answer you wanted. 

But this is the problem, you wanted so badly to catch him in something. To see if someone was going to pop out of the bushes and tell you that you’ve been Punk’d. That you were a fool for even thinking that one of the most prolific basketball stars this university’s ever seen wanted your time and attention. But he seemed to. Or maybe it was his guilt. You couldn’t tell. And that was what was eating you alive. That you couldn’t tell. But curiosity was a bitch and maybe Friday night could’ve been for you.

As you looked at him again, he was already looking at you. “So?” He smiled gently, hopeful glints in his eyes.

You sighed, “how do I buy the ticket?” You throw up your hands in defeat as you look to the side and up at the nearly set sun. 

“Yes!” He cheered, pumping a fist in the air like he’d just hit a buzzer beater. Opening his arms wide, “can I give you a hug?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, arms crossing tighter. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, mama, I earned it,” he pleaded, arms still spread like he was about to embrace the whole campus. “You just admitted you’re coming to see me.”

“I admitted nothing,” you corrected, stepping around him toward the South Hall doors. “All I said was I need a ticket.”

“That’s the same thing.” He jogged to keep up with you, a grin plastered across his face. “In fact, it’s even better—you asked me for one. That’s like—” He paused, holding his hands out like he was framing a painting. “—a confession of interest.”

You stopped, deadpan. “I’m not interested,”

“And yet, hater,” he said, tapping his temple as if he’d solved world hunger, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Before you could come up with a scathing comeback, the bell tower chimed the hour. You groaned, clutching your bag. “I’m late. Thanks for that.”

“Thank me later,” he called as you hurried inside. And when you risked one last glance over your shoulder, he was still standing on the steps—hands in his pockets, that infuriating grin aimed right at you like he’d already won.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of you worried he had.

—

“Wait what?! Riki invited you to his game?!” 

“Say that any louder would you?” You threw your hands up in irritation as Yasmin’s eyes bulged out of her skull at the news. 

Bella covered her mouth, stifling a laugh as she flipped the waffle maker open. “Wait—hold on, hold on.” She pointed the spatula at you like it was a gavel. “You, you, the number-one Riki Nishimura hater on campus, got personally invited by the man himself, and you said yes?”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “I didn’t say yes, I just…didn’t say no.”

“That’s a yes,” Yasmin gasped, and she quietly clapped her hands.  “Oh my gosh, you’re going to a game! Our little cynic is finally embracing school spirit!”

The dining hall was typically bustling around this time. Early in the morning, people want to load up on breakfast and catch up with friends before the inundating life of college consumes them. You, Yasmin, and Bella met up at nine AM for breakfast every single morning, no exceptions. Ten on weekends.

“Fuck the school, fuck the spirit.” You groaned. “I’m going because he wouldn’t shut up about it. It’s a one-time thing. A pity acceptance.”

Bella raised a brow. “A pity acceptance is still an acceptance, babe.”

The waffle maker dinged. She lifted the lid and slid a perfect golden square onto her plate, smirking as she doused it in syrup. “Honestly? I’m proud. You’re about to see the campus cult leader in his natural habitat.” She immediately doubled back to put more mix in the press. You and Yasmin always split a waffle. The beautiful, olive skinned girl squealed again. Grabbing your hands and interlocking them. “This is huge! You’re gonna love it—the lights, the crowd, the energy—”

“The egos,” you cut in, tugging your hands back.

“The athleticism,” Yasmin countered, unfazed. “And hey, if you don’t like the game, at least the cheer squad will look amazing. I’ll even throw in a wink just for you.” You wrapped an arm around both girls’ shoulders, to which they rested their heads on yours. “At least I’m guaranteed some type of joy. Seeing my hot friends in their cute cheer outfits.”

Bella laughed, rubbing your tummy as she lifted herself up to check your waffle. “I’ll even give you a lap dance if you ask nicely.”

“Bella!” Yasmin swatted her with the back of her hand, laughing so hard her mascara almost smudged.

“What?” Bella grinned, cutting your shared waffle with surgical precision. 

You snorted into your mango juice. “If Riki’s game is even half as entertaining as this breakfast, maybe I’ll survive.”

“Oh, you’ll more than survive,” Yasmin said confidently. “You’re gonna be converted.”

“Is this guy really that good?” You grabbed two plates for the two and slid them to Bella. 

The two girls nodded in unison. “Putting all dickhead-ism aside, babes. He’s extremely good.” Bella said as she put the halves on both plates.

Yasmin nodded, as you both walked back to your table. “Yeah, it’s freaky. I don’t know, but you’ll see Friday.” She shrugged as you sat at your table. 

Bella pointed her fork at you. “You’re gonna hate how much you agree with her.”

Before you could fire back, a shadow fell across the table.

“Agree with who?”

You nearly choked on your strawberry. Yasmin yelped so loud half the dining hall turned. And Bella? She smacked her fork down like she was about to get very violent.

Standing there, plate balanced casually in one hand, was Riki Nishimura himself. Grinning like the devil.

“Don’t do that!” Yasmin scolded, clutching her chest.

“Do what?” he asked innocently, setting his plate down at the table behind yours. He placed his hand on the back of your chair—something weirdly intimate. You couldn’t assess the feeling. But you felt his body heat radiate off of him.

Bella and Yasmin knew Riki in passing. The basketball team and their cheerleaders—the team that the girls were a part of—were familiar with one another. From the university standpoint, the cheerleaders would hype up the crowd, boost morale, the works. On the other end, a lot of them would date other athletes. Which sounds cliche in hindsight. Riki ‘dated’ many cheerleaders in his day, mostly during high school. Now, he’s calmed down—only having screwed around with three of them in his years at Decelis. Three in two years isn’t that terrible. But that was the thing with Riki, he screwed. That’s all he could do. Wanted to do, really. He knew the power he held here and what man wouldn’t enjoy the flock of women that threw themselves at his feet? Especially when his status was what it was. Riki would make it clear that he didn’t want anything more with them. Abundantly clear that it was just sex, nothing more or less. But of course, there would be a few that would try to change him. Claim him, go around saying things about him that weren’t true to scare other girls out of dating him. Once he started getting attention, sponsorships, ESPN coverage, he couldn’t risk his image being tainted at the hands of a one night stand. From his perspective, he’d rather get in trouble for things he did on his own than something someone else said. Especially if it weren’t true. Besides that, the girls and him essentially ran in the same circles. Plus, Yasmin and one of the other basketball guys had a one-off fling. Brief, fruitless, literally lasted three weeks. Bella was pretty and Riki was sort of eyeing her for a minute, but that crush died. Nothing that Bella did, he just saw you.

“Nothing. Do nothing, Riki.” You looked up at him with a sarcastic smile. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I love the welcome wagon.” He nodded curtly as he lightly, very playfully punched your arm. “Just wanted to remind you that Friday shall not be forgotten.” Yasmin smiles, “it’s not! We were just talking about yo—” Bella immediately kicked her leg, roughly—nearly leaving a bruise. Yasmin’s yelp turned into a strained laugh, way too high-pitched. “—yo, yogurt. We were just talking about yogurt.”

The blonde nodded affirmatively, slowly but going with what the girl writhing in pain said. “Uh-huh. Strawberry yogurt. Very…important conversation.”

Riki squinted, biting into his toast with suspicious slowness. “Yogurt. Right.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “You guys know you’re terrible liars, right?” Bella shoved a piece of waffle into her mouth to avoid answering. Yasmin’s eyes darted everywhere but him. And you? You just stared back at him, unimpressed.

“Relax,” Riki grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “If I wanted to eavesdrop, I’d sit at this table, not behind you. Though—” His knuckles rapped against the back of your chair again, teasing. “This seat has its perks.”

Bella groaned into her plate. Yasmin kicked her under the table this time.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have a young woman’s life to ruin?” 

He quirked his brows, stealing a slice of kiwi from your plate. “Who, like yours?”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Riki just chewed the kiwi like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade on the table. “I’m saying—” he gestured vaguely with his fork, “—you’re acting like I’ve got a whole victim list when clearly…” His eyes slid to you, gleaming. “…you’re volunteering.”

Bella choked on her waffle. Yasmin slapped her back, sputtering. “Who do you think you are?”

“What? I’m clarifying,” he said innocently, though the corner of his mouth was doing that thing—the smug almost-smile that made your blood heat. Then, without another word, he grabs a chair and his plate from the table he had the food on. Getting comfy as he set himself up. “I’m so sorry I just love girl chat.” He squealed as he scooted inward and entirely too close to you.

Bella’s head snapped up. “Did…did you just squeal?”

“I did.” Riki leaned his elbow on the table, grinning like a cheshire cat. “I’m very in touch with my feminine side.”

Yasmin looks at you with a disappointed sigh, “I see what you were talking about.”

Your fork froze mid-air. “Wow. Betrayal this early in the morning?”

Yasmin just shrugged helplessly, sipping her coffee. “I’m sorry,”

Riki gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “You’ve been slandering me before I even sat down?”

Bella stabbed her waffle with unnecessary force. “We didn’t need to. You do it all yourself.”

He turned to you then, eyes glinting, completely ignoring the other two. “So that’s the verdict? I walk in here, innocent, just trying to enjoy my kiwi—”

“You mean my kiwi?” You gesture to your nearly cleared off plate of fruit. 

“It’s not like you were eating the shit.” He reached in, going for the last few slices. But before he could, you turned the bowl—bringing it out of his reach. Riki froze mid-reach, his hand hovering in the air.

Without any effort, he reached down to the leg of your chair—pulling you closer into his side with the strength of a singular arm. Your heart skipped, and you yanked back slightly, more surprised than scared. “Hey! What—” Riki didn’t budge, just leaned forward to grab the bowl. “What?” His eyes flicked to the bowl of fruit, then back to you, unrepentant as he tested you. Dared you to speak again in a teasing way.

Bella and Yasmin froze mid-bite, their expressions somewhere between horror and fascination. Yasmin whispered, “Uh…maybe…maybe intervene?”

Bella just buried her face in her hands. “Nope. Not my problem.”

—

Friday came faster than you thought it ever could. Which is strange because any other week goes by excruciatingly slow for you. Greatly enough, you didn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the thought of seeing Riki on the court, all energy and mild aggression personified, or maybe it was the memory of him cornering you over a damn kiwi bowl. Either way, you found yourself walking across campus, purse slung over one shoulder, feeling a mix of dread and curiosity that you didn’t entirely understand. The arena loomed ahead, banners flapping in the evening breeze as crowds of people made their way inside. Your chest tightened, not from the usual anxiety of social situations, but from the knowing—knowing that he was here, somewhere in the midst of all that chaos, grinning like he owned the place. After the interactions you had with him, you wondered if Riki ever got nervous before games. If he did some bizarre ritual or had a good luck charm like a pair of socks he wears every game that he hasn’t washed since he was ten. Your lace-trimmed long sleeve was very cute and delicate, definitely not the “athlete-supportive” outfit anyone would expect at a basketball game—but somehow, it felt like armor. You tugged at the hem nervously, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. Inside, the arena buzzed with energy: the squeak of sneakers on the polished court, the rhythmic stomps and chants of the crowd, the banners waving overhead. Somewhere in the middle of it all, you knew Riki would appear larger than life, and honestly…the thought made your palms sweat.

He didn’t lie, there was a seat reserved right in the front row with your name on it.

​​You blinked at the small placard. Your name. Front row.

A mix of irritation and curiosity bubbled up. Who even does that? And yet…part of you couldn’t deny the thrill. Sliding into the seat, you felt the floor vibrate as the players warmed up, sneakers squeaking and balls thumping as the team warmed up. Then you saw him moving across the court, every motion effortless, commanding, magnetic. Even from a distance, you could feel the energy radiating off him, drawing your gaze like gravity. He caught your eye for a brief second, slyly winking at you as he chewed on a mouthguard. His attire was great. Yes, he wore the school colors—purple and white—on his uniform. A large number three at the center of both sides of his jersey. But on his right arm, he had a white arm sleeve. White finger tape decorating his fingers as on the opposite leg—his left—he had a leg sleeve. You’ve seen basketball players wear stuff like this, it seemed to be the style. Your eyes scanned the middle of the court and you spotted Bella and Yasmin—dolled up and looking as gorgeous as ever as they sat on the sidelines. You beamed and immediately took out your phone to snap a photo of them. Oh-so-inconspicuously sending that photo in the group chat. An ‘I’m watching your every step’ message. Nothing too weird, you know. The laugh in your throat bubbled as you broke out into a smile, and for a moment, the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Bella’s perfectly lined eyeliner, Yasmin’s gleaming hair, the way they leaned into each other as they whispered—you could practically hear the unspoken jokes.

Until it was time for tip-off.

—

The buzzer sounded, a sharp crack that made your chest skip a beat, and the ball soared into the air. Riki lunged with impossible timing, leaping higher than anyone else, his arm sleeve flexing with the motion. The crowd erupted as he slammed the ball down with a satisfying thunk, immediately taking control of the game.

From your front-row seat, every movement was mesmerizing: the pivot of his legs, the effortless bounce of the ball, the way his jersey clung just right when he twisted mid-air. And, of course, the occasional glance your way—a subtle lift of the brow, a tilt of the head—just enough to remind you he knew you were watching. Riki crouched low near half-court, dribbling the ball between his legs with that smooth, controlled rhythm that made it look effortless. His eyes flicked up, scanning the defense like a chess player anticipating every move. He didn’t rush—never all-out too early. Every feint, every subtle shift of his weight was calculated, teasing the defenders, building tension, like he was saving the real fireworks for the perfect moment. A defender lunged, trying to predict his next move, but Riki only stayed focused, spinning the ball through a precise between-the-legs crossover. He leaned forward, eyes locked on the basket, energy coiled and measured, every step deliberate. And then—explosion. He exploded past the defender, weaving through the chaos with that signature agility, rising for a perfect, graceful layup that made the crowd roar. Even in motion, his gaze flicked toward you, subtle and teasing, like he was daring you to blink.

—

He always took smart shots. 

Surprisingly enough, Riki was far from a ball hog. He moved like a conductor through the chaos of the game, every dribble, pivot, and pass precise. He orchestrated plays, drawing defenders toward him and then slipping a perfect pass to a teammate cutting to the hoop—playing the point guard role perfectly. Every shot he took was calculated; every assist and pass, effortless. You watched, captivated, as he built the momentum of the game with a controlled fire that was both intimidating and magnetic. Halfway through the second quarter, he caught the ball just inside the three-point line, eyes scanning, defenders breathing down his neck. He dribbled, a subtle hesitation, then spun between his legs, pivoting with that signature agility. A defender tried to stop him, but his shoulder grazed Riki just enough to make him stumble—foul called immediately. He didn’t miss a beat. Rising for the layup, he absorbed the contact and still managed to sink it cleanly. The whistle blew—and one.

As he landed, he slapped his chest with that confident, masculine gesture, exhaling sharply, eyes glinting. The crowd clapped, teammates high-fiving him.Every move seemed designed to entertain as much as to dominate. He drew cheers from the crowd, coordinated plays with teammates, and every so often, that teasing glance toward you reminded you: this was also a show for you.

—

On defense, Riki was a pest. Annoying. The kind of player who never gave you room to breathe. He crouched low, arms wide, reading the offense like he had the playbook in his head before it even unfolded. Every time his opponent tried to drive, he cut them off with quick, sharp footwork, shadowing every step. And when he went for a steal? Ruthless. One second the ball was in his opponent’s hands, the next Riki had stripped it clean, darting down the court. He didn’t just defend—he got under skin. By the third quarter, you could see the frustration written across the faces of the guys stuck dealing with him. He thrived on it too. That sly grin crept back whenever a frustrated guard shoved into him a little too hard, trying to break free. He’d just shrug it off, tap his leg sleeve like try again, and lock back in.

Even from the front row, you could tell—he wasn’t just good. He was exhausting to play against.

—

There were a few times he should’ve got called for a technical foul but wasn’t. A few of the other guys on the team trash-talked. But Riki’s mouth was the worst. You could tell, just like the rest of them, that they got extremely competitive in the heat of the moment. Which was understandable, but you wondered. There have been many times you’ve seen women’s games and the refs have so much to say to them when they get snippy. But the guys are essentially having a dick swinging contest right before the entire country to see. He’d get in the defenders’ faces, bump their shoulders. Take out his mouthguard specifically just to shit talk right in their faces. Whispering foul words to intimidate the player that you couldn’t make out. The guilty part of you was sort of turned on by it, seeing Riki this way. This was the most masculine you saw him. Not the smug tease hovering over your shoulder in the dining hall. Not the boy grinning as he chased you up to class. Here, on the court, chest heaving, jaw tight, trash talk spilling easy—this was Riki in his rawest form. And you hated how much your stomach knotted watching it.

—

By the last thirty seconds, the gym was shaking. 126–126. Decelis ball. Everyone in the stands already knew where it was going—Riki. He dribbled up, face locked in that sharp, predator focus you’d never seen off the court. Two defenders closed in, practically climbing his back. The crowd roared, waiting for him to take the shot. Of course he would. He always did.

He didn’t.

At the last second, Riki snapped his wrist and swung the ball out to a teammate wide in the corner. Perfect pass. The kid launched it. Swish. Decelis up three. The arena exploded, bodies leaping, the bench clearing to scream. Riki didn’t even crack a smile—just hit his chest once, hard, and pointed at his teammate like that’s you.

The other team scrambled for a last shot, missed, and the buzzer went off in a storm of whistles and screams. Decelis: 129. Them: 126. Your ears rang as everyone flooded the court. Players crashing into each other, coaches losing their minds, fans pressed against the rails. And in the middle of it all was Riki, tall and shining and untouchable, sweat dripping down his jaw. While you covered your ears, trying to ensure you didn’t lose your hearing at the tail-end of this event—you got it now. More than anything did you understand why these things weren’t just games. They were spectacles. If people were like this for regular in-season games, imagine what the playoffs and (hopefully) championship games would be like. But besides that, you realized what made your pulse race wasn’t just the scoreboard or the roaring crowd—it was him. Riki, standing there like the center of gravity, chest rising and falling, teammates mobbing him in a blur of jerseys. He hadn’t even taken the final shot, but everyone knew he’d been the engine. The conductor. The spark.

He accepted the praise, but he immediately found the kid that he passed to—hitting his chest as he nodded. Smiling through his mouth guard as they both had some weird, guy conversation. Some celebratory music was playing from the arena speakers, as the fans cheered and stomped, the sound rattling through your bones. Players kept shoving Riki, grabbing his shoulders, hollering in his face like he’d just saved the world. He took it all with that cool, unbothered grin, dapping them up one by one. But then, as the noise stretched on, he peeled away. Sweat dripping down his temple, jersey clinging, he jogged over to the scorer’s table. You frowned, watching as he grabbed the ball from the official’s hands, spinning it once in his palm like it belonged to him.

And then—of course—his gaze cut straight to you.

Your stomach twisted as he looked at you, expectantly—waiting for your approval. Waiting for your okay. For you to tell him how great he already knew he was. But he wanted to hear it—see it—from you. Without a word, you nodded slowly—tipping your bag of sour gummies at him as you leaned back into your seat.

His grin widened around his mouth guard, sharp and almost childlike as he turned back to his teammates—doing cheesy celebratory dances as the arena cleared out. You shook your head, laughing softly as you cleaned up your area. Grabbing the wrappers and water bottles you went through—you hated leaving messes for people to pick up when you were fully capable of doing it yourself. As you walked to the trashcan that was about ten feet away, the girls wrapped their arms around you from either side. Bella’s perfume hit you first, sugary and strong, while Yasmin’s lip gloss smudged your cheek as she leaned in.

“Front row, huh?” Yasmin sing-songed, her grin wicked.

Bella gave you a look that said girl, explain, even as she pretended to focus on the giant foam finger she was waving.

“In my defense, I didn’t think I’d be put there.” You put your hands up, stepping back.

The blonde smiled, poking your arm. “Okay, WAG—”

“No!” You laughed, swatting her hand away. “Not WAG! I’m not—I didn’t—”

Yasmin’s grin widened, clearly loving your flustered flailing. “Relax, relax. We’re just saying, you know…front row. Big stage. Him.”

Bella snorted, waving the foam finger like a banner of proof. “Yeah, yeah, admit it—you enjoyed it.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “I did. The game was good.” Nodding in thought, “y’all were right.” 

Yasmin smiled, “see?! It’s so cute like, we all come together just to sit down and be in community and cheer and it just—” “Okay Miss Frizzle,” Bella placed her hand onto the girl’s shoulder as you all shared a laugh. Bella tugged you guys close, hugging you both tightly. “Okay, so are we ever gonna have the conversation where we cover the fact that Riki totally wants you?”

You froze mid-step, the weight of Bella’s words hitting like a surprise full-court press.

Yasmin snorted behind her hand, eyes sparkling. “Ooh, she’s gonna deny it. Watch.”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, trying for casual, but your voice betrayed you anyway.

Bella rolled her eyes, smirking. “Uh-huh. Totally casual. Front row, him looking like a Greek statue on the court, and he somehow looked in your general direction for most of the game? Totally casual. So friendly.”

You nodded, brushing your curls behind your ear. “Mhm, you said it, not me.”

They both give you a look. Sharing one with each other as they both moved you out of the way as there were flocks of people still trying to make their ways out of the arena in one piece. But you somehow forgot about their existence, this has been happening a lot to you the last few hours. And most of your life. This sort of dissociation—only minding the people close to you. The ones you thought were special. Like today, you’d be in a sea of people and if you knew three—you kept them close to your chest. There’s been so many times where people would run into you, or come up to you and greet you and you’d not know who they were until they reminded you that you had your eleven-thirty history class with them and they sat right behind you. This is why Riki crashing into your life these last two weeks has been so surreal for you. And maybe, just maybe, this might be the reason for your subconscious rejection of him. You never actually hated him, you understood that. You simply didn’t like that you and the entire university were being forced to like him simply because he was good at a sport. By this point, the arena was empty sans for you three and some custodians that swept up the floor with pristine efficiency. Proving they’ve done this a thousand times over. 

Yasmin opened her mouth to respond, yet she was interrupted by one of the girls calling from one of the double doors. “Bella! Yasmin! C’mon, Coach is making us take photos and we can’t go without you guys.”

The brunette nodded, “we’re coming!” She called out as she turned to look at you. “Be right back.” She whispered, hugging you tightly—kissing your cheek as she scampered off to the door. 

Bella smiled as she watched Yasmin make a quick break for the doors. Turning back to you, she nodded to the door. “Wanna come?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Sure I—” From the corner of your eye, you see a tall figure jogging toward you. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor pulled your attention, and before you could even finish your sentence, there he was. The man of the hour. Still in his jersey, dried sweat sticking to his skin, his hair damp at the edges. He had ditched his mouthguard somewhere between celebrating and now, flashing that unbothered grin that made your pulse do a somersault. The ball was tucked under one arm like an extension of himself, and his pace—quick, determined—made it obvious: he wasn’t jogging toward anyone. He was jogging toward you. Bella’s brows shot up, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile as she stepped aside like she knew she was witnessing a movie scene unfold. “Ohhh, this should be good,” she murmured, already backing toward the doors to “give you space” but absolutely intending to eavesdrop from ten feet away. She debated, but ultimately decided to go find the team before she had to run ten laps before next practice. “I’ll catch you later, love you.” She whispered, rubbing your shoulder before she scurried off. Your feet stayed planted, though your mind screamed at you to do literally anything else. Riki slowed to a stop in front of you, chest rising and falling, eyes locked onto yours like Bella, the arena, the custodians didn’t exist. “Hi.” Just that—soft, breathless, like he’d been holding it in all night and finally let it spill. He shifted the ball under his arm, free hand tugging at the hem of his jersey like it could keep him grounded. His eyes, though, weren’t grounded at all—they were skating across your face, memorizing, cataloguing, daring you to look away.

“Congrats,” you managed, your voice a little too high, a little too airy, like you hadn’t been practicing something cooler in your head since halftime. “Star of the game, huh?”

His grin returned, a little crooked now, more boy than legend. “Nah. Don’t start with all that.” He leaned in a fraction, enough for you to catch the lingering salt of sweat, the heat radiating off him. “Besides…wasn’t really playing for the crowd tonight.” You raised your brows in slight shock, your heart skipping a little at the flirtation. “Are you flirting with me, sir?” Stifling a laugh as you cock your head.

Riki laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Your stomach dipped like the floor had given out under you, though your face did its best to play it cool. Folding your arms, pretending his answer didn’t just rearrange your insides, you said, “Thank…you?” Riki’s laugh came again, low and disbelieving, like you’d just crossed him up on his own court. “Thank you?” He echoed, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on the ball. “That’s your response?”

You shrugged, trying to look unfazed even as your pulse thudded in your throat. “Well, what do you want me to say?” That crooked grin tugged at his lips again, boyish and sharp all at once. He angled his chin at you, eyes flicking over your face like he was searching for the crack in your act. “I was hoping for something more like…‘finally.’”

That single word hung between you, heavier than the arena’s fading buzz. Your arms loosened, the folded front slipping without your permission. “Finally?” you repeated, soft, like you weren’t sure if you wanted to challenge him or dare him to keep going. “Yeah,” Riki said, voice quieter now, less bravado and more truth. “Been waiting for a shot. Figured tonight I’d stop warming the bench.” He let the ball go, letting it bounce. He tapped it gently, letting it come back to his hand. He extended it to you with one arm. “For you, beautiful.”

You blinked at the ball, then at him, like he’d just offered you his jersey, his sneakers, and possibly his firstborn all at once. “For me?”

Riki’s smirk tilted into something softer, more earnest. “Yeah. MVP keeps the ball. Tonight…” he shrugged, eyes never leaving yours, “that’s you.”

Without anything else coming to mind, you just take the ball hesitantly. Like it would explode if you were to handle it wrong. “Oh my gosh, Riki…” you smile brightly. “Thank you.”

He laughs softly, “you said that already, mama. You don’t have to thank me.” He waved off as he sighed shakily. “Look…I know…we got off to a rocky start—”

“Rocky?” You echoed, one brow arching as you hugged the ball tighter against your chest.

“Hostile’s the better word.”

You nodded curtly, “for sure.”

Riki chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like he was taking the hit on purpose. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “Glad we agree.”

His grin softened into something a little less cocky, a little more boyish. “But…if hostile was the start, I’m hoping this—” he nodded toward the ball in your arms, “—can be, you know, the reset.”

“So you wanna be friends?” You bounced the ball, dribbling it as you stared down at it. Ensuring it didn’t go anywhere—zero hand-eye coordination on your end.  Riki’s smile brightened as he watched you. “Friends is a good start, that’s not all I want though.” His eyes darted between you and the ball that you seem to have so much trouble dribbling but he just let you go.

Your dribble went sideways, the ball nearly escaping before you caught it with both hands, clutching it like a life preserver. “Not all you want?” you repeated, squinting at him. “You don’t even know if I can make a free throw.” Riki snorted, entertained at seeing you try this with zero grace. “But I do know you can’t dribble. I’m sorry but you are absolutely terrible.” 

“Hey! It’s not even my job to be good at this shit. Sorry I’m not like what’s-his-name.” You switch hands and dribble the ball at an irregular rhythm.

“What is his name, sweetheart?” Riki pursed his lips as he watched you with his hands clasped behind his back. 

You snapped your fingers as if it were able to trigger a thought. “Um…Allen Iverson! Yes! Allen Iverson.” Riki blinked, then burst out laughing, so loud one of the custodians looked over in confusion. “Allen Iverson?!” He bent forward, hands on his knees, grinning at you like you’d just told the funniest joke of the year. “Oh my God—nah, don’t do AI like that. He’s turning in his grave right now—”

“He’s not even dead!” you cut in, indignant, clutching the ball tighter.

Riki straightened, smirk pulling at his lips as he pointed at you. “Exactly. And you still killed him with that comparison.”

You gasped dramatically, eyes wide. “Wow. You’re mean.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, stepping closer again, grin softer now. “Just honest. And besides…” his gaze lingered on you, enough to make your heartbeat stumble, “…you’re way cuter than Iverson anyway.”

You got back to dribbling. “I don’t know…” you sang. “I used to have a crush on him when I was young.” You were focused, tongue sticking out in concentration as you played with the ball. 

He blurted out. “Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t take this anymore.” He scratched his forehead. “You gotta keep your eyes up, mama.” Scrunching his nose a bit as he put his hand on his hip.

“No, Riki, I’m gonna lose it if I do!” 

“Well I’m already losing it.” He laughs at your stubbornness. “You looking down isn’t helping you. If this were a game, I’d steal the ball from you.”

Your eyes stayed down, at this point, you were just pulling his leg. 

He swiftly stole the ball from you. “Hey,” he said firmly, grabbing your chin gently and forcing you to look at him. He bounced the ball at a quick rhythm, “look at me.” Dribbling the ball between his legs as he leans down to your height. 

Your breath caught, heat rushing to your cheeks at how close he suddenly was—his palm warm and steady on your chin, his eyes locked onto yours like he dared you to blink. The ball thudded against the hardwood in a perfect rhythm, the sound echoing in the empty arena. His smirk deepened, lips curling as if he’d just proven his point without saying another word. “See? Easy. You keep your eyes on me, and the ball takes care of itself.”

You scoffed, though it came out softer than intended, your voice a little shaky. “That’s…literally not how physics works.” “Sure it is,” he countered smoothly, still dribbling with one hand, chin tilted with that effortless confidence. “Ball control is focus. And right now, your focus…” he tapped your chin lightly before pulling his hand back, “…is exactly where I want it.” He stops dribbling and presses the ball into your chest.

“You’re such a showoff.” You crossed your arms over the ball, trying to reclaim some authority, though your heart betrayed you with a rapid thump. Riki tilted his head, grin sharpening just enough to be mischievous. “And you’re—

“Yo Riki!”

The both of you turn to see someone from behind you. Turns out it was three people, only one of them shouting out from across the floor. His teammates most likely. “You coming?!”  Confusion coated your features. That and annoyance was on Riki’s as well until realization found him. “Wh—oh shit!” He quickly turned to you with a small smile. “The team’s having an afterparty at one of the frats, wanna come?”

Your eyes widened, “a frat party?” “Well, yes and no. One of the guys on the team, Maki—we have the same name, funnily enough. Whatever that’s not the point—the point is, he’s a part of Phi Gamma Theta. The party’s at his frat house and it’s his turn to buy the beer.” He nods with a shimmy of his shoulders. 

You turn to his teammates that are eyeing you both expectantly, mainly him. At this moment, you really didn’t want to go. Like at all. And you were most certainly going to deny him! But you were so surprised that he was so quick to let you into his world in this way—so quickly. While you liked that he wanted you in the spaces that he occupied, you were weary of both him and the company he kept. You simply didn’t know him that well. 

While it didn’t hurt to make new friends and take on new social scenes, you seriously debated how to spend your Friday night. Bella and Yasmin were going to their dorms right after this they said. They’d been putting in serious work this week and were taking every last day of their weekends to do nothing. You were just going to study for your Latin quiz on Monday—which you hardly did because you were too worried about the Philosophy paper due this afternoon. So either way, you lost. “Uh…I think I’m gonna stay in tonight. Latin quiz on Monday and I’ve hardly studied.”

Riki nodded, “for sure, that’s fine.” He waves off, looking to his teammates and holding up his index finger. Indicating that he wanted a second. They went back to where they came, most likely the locker room. “Text me when you get to your dorm?” You quirked a brow, that confusion making another appearance. “I don’t have your number, Riki.”

He tilts his head, “you for sure do.” His eyes fell to the basketball in your hands then your eyes again.

Your gaze followed where his once was, shifting the ball around in your hands until you come across a slip of paper taped securely to it. Reading: To my MVP. Then the digits followed. Laughing, your heart rate spiking more than you’d like it to. “You’re such a cornball.” “And I got your number from Yasmin already so…don’t even think about flaking on me.” He wagged a finger in your face. “I’m a little crazy too, I hope you know.” He teased.

“Too? As in, you think I’m crazy?” You narrow your eyes as you fold your hands over the ball. He smiled as he reminisced, “well, when one takes a fresh basketball to the face and doesn’t cry, I’d like to think there’s a little something in your wheelhouse.”

You stared at him blankly. “Goodnight, Riki.” Then lightly tossed the ball, watching it bounce right off his forehead before he could react. And funnily enough, it fell right back in your hands. “Huh, I guess ball control really does work.” Riki laughed, rubbing the spot as he stepped closer. “See? Never lied to you.” His hand hovered briefly at the back of your head before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for coming. I mean it. Text me when you get in, okay? Actually—” his grin flickered back as he shook his head, “don’t even bother. I’ll text you in thirty minutes.”

And this might’ve been the very moment that he got you. 

Him getting closer to you as he showed this affection felt like it was in slow motion. Did it last twenty seconds or twenty minutes, you couldn’t tell. As the faint scent of his sweat overtook your senses, you found yourself breathing him in. Taking in every ounce of the time you had with him in this arena. Despite the salty liquid, he smelled of something clean. Like linen, or some sort of fruit—citrus. More so an orange. His body was cooler now, but the heat from his body trying to cool itself down and instead it felt like the heat was all on you now. 

You did this a lot. Taking him in. Soaking up every second despite his presence not wanting to admit how much you enjoyed it. That awareness lingered in your chest, heavy and sweet, like honey that refused to dissolve. You hugged the ball against your stomach, pretending it was the only anchor keeping you steady. Because if you didn’t, you might’ve reached out—might’ve let your fingers graze his jaw, might’ve leaned in just a little too much. He didn’t make it easier, either. Still so close, still looking at you like you were something more than just a distraction. His grin is softer now, less cocky. Like he was letting you see the part of him he didn’t hand out to just anyone.

—

The second you get to your dorm you don’t even text him. You immediately sit at your desk, prop your phone up and move all your books to the side. You felt like you just did ninety lines of cocaine, every bone in your body jittering, every nerve spiked.  To be fully transparent, you hadn’t felt like this since Christmas when you were ten and your parents got you the entire Dork Diaries series after hearing you ask for it since December the year before. Fuck all the Bratz dolls, the Barbies, the dollhouses. Those be damned. Nothing mattered more to you than finally reading the book where Nikki actually didn’t say her comebacks in her head and when Mackenzie wasn’t finally the victim anymore. However, you didn’t get that far in the series anyway.

There had to be a day that you found your Brandon Roberts, and it might’ve not been today. But until then, you had to document every moment to your best friends. As you rang them on the group video call, they both popped in. Yasmin was perched at her desk with a face mask and a fluffy headband like she was running a skincare commercial. Bella was sprawled across her bed, the camera only showing her nose up like she couldn’t be bothered with life.

“Why you calling us like the world’s ending?” Bella groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow.

“Because it is,” you shot back immediately, tucking your legs under your desk chair. “Guys—I think Riki kissed me.”

So, both of them were gagged—full stop. Your screen sparks to life. Yasmin’s in a fluffy headband, cheeks already flushed. Bella’s camera is a nose-up drama shot and both of them look like they’ve seen a ghost and a dream at the same time.

“No way! Wait—what—dude! I thought you didn’t like him like that!” Bella beamed as she smiled into the camera. Holding her heart to keep it from bursting and oozing into the phone. You tilted your head, “I’m easy, I fear…” you bit your finger as you all giggled at your tone. Burying your face into the desk, you screamed into the hardwood. Yasmin asked. “Wait so…what do you mean ‘you think?’ I’m pretty sure you’d know if someone kissed you, girl.” She leaned back in the chair, smiling still as she smushed slime. Letting the glue mold in her hands as she popped some of the air bubbles. 

You grabbed a stress ball from your drawer. “Long story short—”

“Hold up—sorry to interrupt but after I left how long did y’all talk for? Y’all stayed on the floor?” Bella nodded, trying to scope out the scene.

You nodded, “yeah, and we stayed for like…twenty minutes after?”

Yasmin squealed, holding her cheeks. “Ugh, I’m so happy for you! What did y’all talk about?” Shrugging, you shook your head in thought. “We just…talked. It wasn’t anything heavy. But he did say he wanted to be more than friends; and me coming to the game was a way for him to hopefully bridge the gap between us.” A smile spreads onto your face slowly. “It was nice…”

“So how did a kiss happen?” Bella hummed, fully sat for this debrief. 

You clear your throat dramatically, adjusting yourself in your seat. “So basically, he gave me the game ball—” Both girls jumped up like you announced you just won the lottery. “Rejoice! Thank goodness, my girl is finally gonna get some dick!” Bella cried out to the popcorn ceiling, raising her hands in jubilation. 

“But he taped his number to it—and Yas! You gave him my number?!”

Yasmin ducked lower in her chair, a guilty smile creeping across her face while her slime made a wet squelch. “...maybe. Don’t act like you’re mad, you’re literally glowing right now.”

You tossed the stress ball at the wall, rolling your eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck. “That’s beside the point!” Bella was already wheezing, halfway off her bed. “No, no, no, wait. He taped his number to the game ball? Like…actually taped it? That’s the most middle school-romance-movie shit I’ve ever heard. I live.”

“And it said ‘To my MVP,’” you admitted begrudgingly, dragging your hands down your face like confessing to a crime. Both of them lost it again. Yasmin fell sideways in her chair, face mask peeling at the edges, while Bella screamed into her pillow like you’d told her BTS showed up at your dorm.

“Oh my god,” Yasmin gasped between giggles. “He’s corny. He’s so corny. But in the best way. Like…cereal box prize corny. The kind you keep forever.” Bella sat up, eyes wild. “Nah, that’s husband behavior. Do you hear me? Husband.”

And despite yourself, you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “Then when we both parted—he and the team were going to a party at the Phi Gamma Theta house. He invited me but I didn’t wanna go—anyway—as we were leaving, he kissed my forehead—AH!” You screamed into the desk again. Not even caring if you got a noise complaint. You cleared your throat as you got back up. “Sorry.” They shook their heads, waving you off without a care. 

“Anyway, he kissed my forehead, thanked me for coming, and said to text him when I got here—I haven’t yet.” You grabbed another toy, your slinky, and played with that. “And that if I didn’t he’d call me in thirty.”

Yasmin nodded, “so why didn’t you text him yet?”

Bella chimed in, “so she can see if he’s the type of guy to do what he says he’s gonna do, Yas.” She nodded with a smirk, tapping her temple in thought.

“Well, he should be calling any—”

Your phone buzzed as it rang from an unknown number—most likely Riki’s seeing as you hadn’t saved it yet. “Oh my gosh, fine shit is calling! What do I do?! Wait! He’s video calling me too!”

“Answer it, fuckface!” Bella laughed.

You yelped, fumbling for the green button as your hands shook. “I—I don’t know if I can!”

“Girl, are you serious?!” Yasmin screeched, squeezing her slime like it owed her money. “Just answer! He’s literally waiting to see your face!”

Bella was practically vibrating off her bed, one hand covering her mouth while the other waved frantically at the screen. “Do it! Pretend you’re calm, but like—you know just play it cool.”

“Okay, okay!” You took a breath and quickly clicked the green button.  Then before you knew it, there stood Riki. Hair slightly damp from the shower and outside air drying, fresh faced, and a black tee that you could only see the neckline of. The streetlight and LEDs that the frat had up illuminated his face so warmly. It was so bizarre, from the neck downward, Riki was beyond what you could imagine an athlete’s physique being like. Lean, agile, cut, not even an ounce of fat on him—but even then, you realize that he was still so handsome anyway. 

He smiled when he saw you. “Hope you didn’t forget about me.”

You waved, “no, I could never.” Opening your arms as you spread the slinky and let it fall back into your hands.

“How was the debrief?” He brushed his hair back, flashing his watch, laughing softly as he saw your shocked face. “What? I have sisters, ma. I know what you girls do.”

You sputter like a bad engine, “uh…I—it was fine?”

Riki chuckled, that low, easy laugh that made your chest feel way too tight. “That’s code for none of my damn business, I assume?”

“You’d assume correctly.” You nodded slowly as you gathered your books. Flipping to the right pages. “How’s the party, brochacho?” Saying absentmindedly as you grab your tablet to notetake.  He laughed softly at the name as he wandered about the lawn. “It’s alright, not really feeling it tonight. Just wanted to make sure you were in one piece. That you didn’t walk into any balls on the way there.”

You rolled your eyes, “yeah I have some balls you can walk into.” 

“Shut up,” he smiled as he sipped from his red cup.

Talking to him was calming, like talking to a friend you’ve known for years. Smooth, simple, easy. The nerves came and went with him. They never stuck.

“You been drinking?” You copied your important notes down from the textbook. Trying to pay attention to the material but your mind was obviously elsewhere. He shrugged, “some beer. Took like a pull of some weed but…” He trailed off with a little sigh, lips puckered in that half-pout that made him look younger than he was. The camera dipped slightly as he adjusted the phone, showing the glow of the house behind him, people laughing, voices spilling into the night. Sitting on the sidewalk, and on their phones as they nursed drinks. “Not really my scene right now.”

Your pen stalled over your tablet, notes forgotten. “Wow, the big campus star skipping out on free booze and bad music? What’s the world come to?”

“You must not know me,” he snorted, laughing at the irony. “I’m always a buzzkill at these shits. I feel like they only invite me just in case.”

Humming, you stood up and gathered your stuff for your shower. Not to take one now, but to prepare your clothes for when you did. “In case of?”

“Just for safety. I sort of…act as a buffer. If we’re caught drinking on campus, it’s a problem, blah blah. Coach is notified but we’re not gonna get real disciplinary action.” He shrugged a shoulder. 

You nodded slowly, “oh to be a man.” Out of view, you bent down to your drawers to pull out your pajamas and fresh underwear.

“No, even the women’s teams do this. Any smart coach wouldn’t let it get to the Dean. We’d get punished internally for shit like that. Run laps, suicides, sacrificing a Saturday to wash his car, I don’t know. Looks bad on him if he benches starters.”

You laughed as you folded your pajamas. “Nah that would piss me off. Making you do suicides for one beer? I’d kill myself, actually.”

Riki shrugged, amused. “You’d be surprised. Guys hate it more than anything. Pride chips away at the sight of a whistle.” He nudged the camera so you could see a pair of teammates arguing over pizza in the background. “Anyway, I should probably go make sure no one’s starting a riot.” You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and grinned. “Go be the responsible one, then. I’ll be the one who aces Latin because I studied all night—” you said as you sat back down, deadpan, and he snorted.

“Mm. Sure you did,” he teased. “The dining halls are closed by now. If you get hungry just tell me. I’ll send you whatever you want, okay?” Your pen hovered over your tablet, heart hitching. He said it so simply, like it wasn’t a whole production, like sending food across campus at midnight was just so normal. “Aww, Riki. You taking care of me with that NIL money?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, furrowing his brows. “I worked hard for that shit.” Laughing as he sipped from his cup. “It’s hard out here.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you scribbled half a Latin conjugation that didn’t even make sense. “Oh my God. Not you acting like a single mom trying to stretch the paycheck.” “Don’t play with me, I am the single mom of this team.” He turned the camera toward the chaos of his teammates wrestling over the last pizza box. “Look at my damn kids. Do you see what I deal with?”

“Serving Reba McEntire realness.”

Riki rubbed his eyes, deadpanning. “Go study, sweetheart.”

“You should wear a red wi—”

“How about that Latin test!” He smiled happily—albeit mocking to shift topics. 

Your laughter rang through the call, and for a second he just looked at you, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he couldn’t help it.

“Alright, go ace your Latin,” Riki said, softer now.

“You go wrangle your kids,” you shot back, smiling.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Riki.”

The screen went dark, leaving you with the echo of his voice and a grin you couldn’t quite wipe off.

—

Two weeks later

—

They say the first high is the best. That once you get it, you spend the rest of your days trying to chase the one you got at the start. 

You didn’t get high—at least not like that anyway.

In your situation, riding the high of Riki Nishimura’s attention felt like its own kind of intoxication. Every ping of your phone, every dumb meme he sent between classes, every “good morning” text when he was already at practice—it was steady, constant, addictive. And instead of chasing it, you were starting to wonder if he was raising the bar higher every time. And in retrospect, Bella was right. Why did it seem like once that buzzer hit, a switch flipped in your mind and you were just indoctrinated like the rest of the Decelis student body? Like he knew exactly what he needed to do to get you. 

You couldn’t put your finger on it but you didn’t want to overthink anything. So many things that you couldn’t comprehend put you here in this very situation and you didn’t want to ruin it by reading too deeply into it. Needless to say, Riki has seamlessly made his way into your routine. You didn’t think he’d find a place within the days that are overtaken by your needs and wants, your best friends, and classes. But if he did anything, it was make your life easier.

Riki never asked you to ditch your friends to be with him. He understood that he only had you for lunch and dinner as you had breakfast with Bella and Yasmin everyday. He messaged you to check up in between classes, already having memorized your schedule. Ensuring that you had snacks so you didn’t lose stamina between lectures—he had successfully put you on to these protein bars, amazing. And they didn’t taste like chalk. Riki even went as far as to start waiting outside your lecture halls—never in a way that felt suffocating, just casual. Leaning against the wall with his hood up, earbuds in, scrolling on his phone until you stepped out. Like he wasn’t the six-foot star guard of Decelis basketball but just some guy, killing time until you showed up.

Sometimes he walked you to the dining hall, sometimes to the library, he always just carried your bag like it was second nature. It wasn’t grand gestures—no flowers, no flashy displays—it was little things. He made space for you without demanding it, and you couldn’t lie, it was disarming. The girls noticed, of course. Yasmin raised a brow every time your phone lit up with his name. Bella, never subtle, outright called him your “NBA boyfriend” and asked if she should start practicing her court-side wave. But kept reminding you that Riki was boyfriend stuff without the actual title.

And maybe you should’ve protested harder, maybe you should’ve insisted it wasn’t that serious. But deep down, some part of you was starting to like the way it sounded.

That conversation had rang in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. And you just kept hearing Yasmin’s “...boyfriend behavior without the title” line, over and over and over again. 

Because was it really true? Were you in a situationship? Really, it’d only been two weeks, is that an appropriate time to get to know someone to further ask them on a date?  In essence, the things that Riki did for you to show he cared, were indeed boyfriend things. Sending you food when you didn’t want to leave your dorm or the spots around campus were closed. Making sure you ate and drank enough water. Never demanded your time even though his life especially, always demanded a lot from him—he ensured that there was some time out of his day for you.

You knew he liked you and he let you know he did. But did he like you enough to take you seriously? Were you just something to do? Something to take his mind off the budding fame and popularity? Funnily enough, before you came to Decelis, one week before your first year, your parents had told you in harmony: don’t date athletes.  Maybe your rejection of Riki at the beginning was just a subconscious effort to suppress your attraction to him from the very start. So that must be why it was so easy to come to terms with liking him. 

Because you always did.

The girls had left your dorm room to go on about their evenings. You just chilled on your beanbag and looked pretty as you watched one of your favorite gamers fail at Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? 

Besides the Riki stuff, you were at peace. Homework done for the rest of the week, you just showered, hair done, nails done. Two of your classes were cancelled tomorrow. Tomorrow was Friday. Life was great! Just as you were about to reach for your box of graham crackers, your phone buzzed. Lighting up and alerting you that it was indeed eight PM and someone texted you. 

brochacho: hi pretty, you at your dorm?

you: good evening, and yes i am.

brachacho: good. i’m downstairs. come get me!

Your hand froze mid‑reach for the graham crackers, eyes darting from the notification to the door like he might magically materialize through it.

Downstairs? Now?

You quickly typed back, thumbs flying:

you: what do you mean you’re downstairs???

The three dots appeared almost instantly.

brochacho: literally downstairs. in the lobby. come get me. 

Your pulse jumped. This wasn’t a text saying “hope you’re good” or “goodnight.” This was him—physically here—while you sat in pajama shorts with a crumb in your hand and a streamer yelling about measurements on your laptop. You scrambled up from the beanbag, nearly tripping over your blanket as you tried to get your bearings. Should you change? Brush your hair? Put on perfume? He hadn’t said why he was there. He hadn’t even asked if you were free.

Another buzz.

brochacho: don’t stress. i’m not kidnapping you. just wanted to see you before bed.

You swallowed, staring at the text like it might tell you what to do next. All you knew was your heart was hammering, and Riki Nishimura was in your lobby.

you: ok, give me a sec.

And without a second thought, you tidied your space. He’d never been here before, he only ever walked you to the building itself. You didn’t like surprise visits but shit, why not?

After folding your blankets and placing them on your bed, then spritzing some vanilla room spray, you held your racing heart. Taking deep breaths as you slipped on your baby pink crocs, grabbed your ID card, and deadbolted your door.  You stepped into the hallway, the carpet soft under your feet, and exhaled slowly. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, casting long shadows along the walls. You could hear faint laughter echoing from down the hall; the muffled bass of music drifting up from somewhere in the building. Your heart was still hammering like a drumline, and every step toward the staircase made it beat faster.

Sliding your ID into your pocket, you gripped the railing as you descended the narrow steps two at a time. Normally, you’d take it slow, careful not to rush, but tonight, nerves and excitement propelled you forward. You peeked through the stairwell window down into the lobby, spotting him almost immediately. Riki was leaning casually against the front desk, arms crossed as he scrolled on his phone, hood down and hair a little tousled from the walk. The soft light from the lobby ceiling brushed over his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to catch the gleam from the floor’s polished tiles.

He glanced up, and that small, knowing smile spread across his lips, the one that made your stomach twist and flip like it was auditioning for gymnastics. His eyes scanned the stairwell, catching yours as soon as you emerged, and a tiny spark of mischief danced in them. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse, adjusting the hem of your shirt like it would somehow make you appear composed instead of the jittery mess you felt like inside. The lobby seemed impossibly large all of a sudden, the echoes of your footsteps loud and exaggerated as you approached him. “What do you want?” You smiled as you reached in for a hug, how you always greeted each other.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “There’s that welcome wagon.” The vibrato of his voice rang through the lobby as it was muffled by your curls that always smelled like strawberries. “I come bearing gifts.” You hummed, pulling back but letting your hands linger on his thin waist that you were beyond envious of. “Isn’t that considered love-bombing at this stage?”

He snorted, “yes, but it’s not really a gift.” He reached behind him for a blue crocheted bag and held it up with a bright smile. “I brought dinner. I made some and didn’t wanna eat alone.”

“Nice,” you laughed softly. “But where’d you get the bag from? One of your other twenty girlfriends?”  He rolled his eyes, “my baby sister likes to crochet and I stole it. Don’t tell her I said that.” He smirked, tucking the strap over his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stroll into your dorm with a handmade bag of food.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “You made dinner? What, like, instant noodles level or are we talking chef Riki over here?”

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made your chest tighten. “I make a mean pasta salad.” You nod to the staircase door. “Good enough,” the door clicked as you swiped your ID card over the receiver. Riki followed behind you, reaching above your head to open the door for you as he closed it behind him. “You made that in your dorm kitchens?”

He shook his head but it wasn’t like you could see him. “Nah, I don’t live on campus. I thought you knew.”

You paused mid-step, turning on the landing to look at him. “Wait, what? You don’t live here?”

Riki tilted his head, a little amused at your wide-eyed reaction. “Nope. I’ve got an apartment off-campus. Closer to the gym, less noise. Plus, dorm showers? Couldn’t do it anymore.” He made a face like the very idea offended him. Your brows lifted as you kept climbing, crocs scraping against the concrete steps. “Hold on. You’ve been walking me back here all this time and then…what? Walking another fifteen minutes to your place?”

“Ten if I’m moving fast,” he corrected with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s not that deep.”

Finally you both made it to your dorm—a place he hasn’t seen. Only little parts via video call. You hesitated at your door. The reality of it hit you—Riki Nishimura was about to see your room. Not the polished corners you’d shown him over FaceTime, not the carefully angled shots that hid the mess, but the whole thing. Every detail. Pushing the door open, you stepped aside to let him in first. He slipped past you without hesitation, and immediately the air felt heavier—his presence filling the small dorm like it was too much space for one person and not nearly enough for him.

His gaze roamed quickly but thoroughly. The string lights draped above your bed. The pile of books stacked on your desk. The blanket you’d folded too hastily, still a little crooked at the edges.  He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked his shoes off by the door where he saw you had two other pairs lined up.

Riki had some manners. 

“Finally, I get to see the whole thing.” He looked at you then back to the space, looking at the wall covered with photos by your bed. These he also hadn’t seen.

Some of these were photos of you and your family. Seemingly at your high school graduation. You had changed a lot since then, just by the looks of it. Your eyes were a little duller, but you looked happy to be out of there. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the tall boy that stood next to you in the photo. Darker skin, hair pulled back into cornrows as he was dressed in very casual wear. Shorts and t-shirt for the hot weather you graduated in.

You approached, leaning forward so you could see what he was referencing. “Oh!” You snorted, “that’s my little Bother.”

“Your who?” Riki smiled as he turned to you.

“Bother,” you repeated with a grin, shaking your head. “That’s Elijah, my little brother. So—brother, bother…it stuck when we were kids.” You nodded. “And he actually grew into it because he became the biggest pain in my ass.”

Riki laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he glanced back at the photo. “He doesn’t look little at all. Dude’s towering over you.”

“Tell me about it,” you groaned, folding your arms. “He hit his growth spurt at, like, thirteen and never stopped.”

“How tall is he now?” 

You tilted your head in thought. “Huh…I couldn’t even tell you how old he is.” You shrugged, bursting out into laughter as you grabbed the crocheted bag and sat on the floor. “But he’s around your height? Maybe a little shorter.”

He followed you down to the rug, sitting parallel to you and crossing his legs into butterfly position. 

Riki leaned back on his palms, studying you with that amused little glint in his eyes. “So what you’re telling me is there’s another version of me out there, just younger and genetically programmed to annoy you?” “Basically,” you said through a laugh, tugging the drawstrings of the bag open. “Except Elijah’s way louder, thinks he’s funnier than he is, and eats like he’s never seen food before.” You pulled out two plastic containers, setting them between you.

Riki snorted. “Sounds familiar. Pretty sure that’s just me with different branding.”

You shot him a look, biting back a grin. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. He’s worse. But I think you two would get along, though.” “You think so?” he chuckled, reaching forward to help you peel off the lid of one container. A soft aroma of herbs and parmesan filled the air.

Laughing, you grabbed the two plastic forks he put in the bag. Someone came very prepared. “I know so, actually…” Pause. “Nevermind.”

“No, no, tell me.” He said softly, unzipping his hoodie and placing it next to him. “I’d love to hear about your family.” His tone made your stomach twist a little, but not enough for you to make him aware of the effect it had on you. “Elijah…” you snorted. “Actually wants to come to Decelis. You know…after he graduates high school?”

He nodded slowly, “okay? And that’s embarrassing?”

“Oh my gosh, no. No. Nothing about my brother is embarrassing, it’s just that…” You scrunched your nose as you twist your fork. “He’s a…big fan of yours.”

Riki blinked at you, mid-bite, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. “...A fan of mine?” His tone landed somewhere between amused and genuinely startled, his brows lifting as though he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or press you for details. You dragged your fork through the pasta salad, trying to play it off, but the heat was already creeping up your neck. “Yeah, like…he likes college basketball a lot already but he thinks that me attending school with and being in the same year as one of the top prospects is cool.”

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Man, your brother’s got way too much faith in me. But…that means a lot. More than I’d probably admit to his face.” He takes a bite of the pasta.

“Woah…” you furrow your brows. “Since when do you doubt your skills? He’s not saying anything different than anyone else does.” He chewed slowly, his gaze dropping to the plate as though your words weighed heavier than he expected. When he finally swallowed, his voice was softer, almost thoughtful. “It’s not that I don’t believe in what I can do,” he said, rolling his fork between his fingers. “I just…know how fast it can all go away. One bad game, one injury, and suddenly all that hype doesn’t mean anything.”

He lifted his eyes back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small smile that didn’t quite hide the seriousness in his tone. “So yeah, I guess I don’t let myself buy into it too much. Easier to laugh it off than start thinking I’m invincible, you know?” As grateful as you were that Riki was sharing a very vulnerable part of him for the very first time, you couldn’t help but think of yourself—as self absorbed as that is. You were beyond normal. Yes, you had your hobbies, friends, interests. But you never even realized the amount of pressure that Riki underwent each and every day. 

His every move was watched by strangers. There wasn’t a moment that you walked beside him on campus and someone wasn’t greeting him or trying to get his attention. Some people even started doing the same for you seeing as you were now semi-associated with him. That alone bugged you. You let your fork rest against the edge of the container, your appetite forgotten for the moment. The realization pressed into you heavier than the warmth of the room—Riki didn’t just carry his own dreams; he carried the expectations of everyone watching him. And there were a lot of eyes.

It explained the careful way he handled himself, how even his jokes carried a twinge of deflection, how he managed to be approachable without ever letting people in too far. You’d brushed it off as confidence before, but now you saw the cracks. The weight of being Riki Nishimura wasn’t something you could ever fully understand, but sitting across from him, you suddenly wished you could take even a sliver of it off his shoulders. You shifted slightly closer, nudging the pasta container between you. “You know…” you started carefully, trying not to make your words sound like pity, “I may not be able to relate to that but I want you to know as…someone who genuinely cares about you…” You huffed, looking up as you picked your words carefully. “That you are so beyond talented. Like have you seen you play?” You laughed, reaching out to hold his free hand. “The Kyrie comparisons are not far-fetched.” For a moment, he just stared at your hand resting over his, fork frozen in mid-air again like he’d forgotten how to move. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His thumb brushed against your knuckles once, deliberate but subtle, almost as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

“I mean it. You’re absolutely undeniable and while I can only imagine how much pressure is on you, I never want you to forget to live in the moment. Nor forget who you are in the process.” For a beat, his gaze stayed locked on yours, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. The fork slipped quietly from his fingers, forgotten against the edge of the container. His hand stayed under yours though, warm and steady, like he was afraid to let go.

You gave his hand another squeeze, leaning in just a little closer. “Riki, you’re not just some highlight reel or a name on a scouting report. You’re…you. The guy who makes sure I eat, who shows up at my dorm with pasta salad in a crocheted bag, who can make me laugh even when I’m trying not to.” You smiled softly, your eyes searching his. “You’re already enough—more than enough—even without all the basketball.” His jaw tightened, like he was fighting something inside himself, but his eyes softened. That little spark of mischief you were used to seeing in him wasn’t there this time—just something vulnerable, raw. And a tinge of something you could only identify as guilt. But you didn’t see how that could apply to this situation. You didn’t pry further. Riki nodded, then smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but he turned his hand beneath yours to grip it and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Assuming this topic was just extremely touchy for him, you turned your hand to hold his cheek, lightly scratching his jaw. “No need for a ‘thank you.’” His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, like the simple act unraveled something tight in his chest. He leaned into your palm, faint stubble barely grazing your fingertips as his breath steadied against your skin. When he opened his eyes again, there was a quiet earnestness in them that made your stomach flip. “You make me sound so…saint-like.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, that’s the last word I’d use for your dumbass.”

—

As the night went on, you and Riki found yourself on your bed. 

Nothing intense, nothing extreme. It was a twin XL, what could you really do? But despite that, you two both found some old movie that you’d seen a million times to watch on your projector.

The movie washed your walls in soft flickers of light, the dialogue barely audible under the quiet hum of the projector. Riki stretched out beside you, one arm folded behind his head, the other lazily draped near your side like he was claiming space without meaning to. The bed was laughably small for two people, every shift making the springs creak, but neither of you complained. At some point, you realized you weren’t even paying attention to the movie. Your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, his shirt soft under your skin, and his steady heartbeat beneath it was far more distracting than whatever was happening on screen.

“Hey,” Riki murmured after a while, his voice low, like even the characters on the screen didn’t need to hear. “Next time…you’re coming to my place. No offense to the twin XL, but it’s not exactly built for two.” You snorted, scooting closer as you wrapped your arm around his waist and leg over his hips. Riki stiffened for half a second at the sudden weight of you practically curling into him, then melted into it, his arm sliding instinctively around your shoulders. A grin tugged at his lips as he tilted his head down to look at you. “Oh, so you like being close, huh? You could’ve just said that instead of pretending the bed was the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your own mouth. “Please. I’m just making the best out of limited square footage.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling you tighter against his side, his fingers idly tracing circles into your upper arm. His free hand ran up and down your bare thigh—the warmth in his hand nothing compared to what was in the room.

The slow drag of his palm along your thigh sent a ripple of heat through you, his touch unhurried but deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing. The movie faded further into background noise, some distant murmur you couldn’t even pretend to follow. “You’re real quiet all of a sudden,” Riki teased, his breath brushing the top of your head. “What happened to all that smart talk about square footage?”

You tilted your chin up, lips twitching into a smirk despite the way your pulse betrayed you. “Maybe I’m conserving energy.” “Oh?” His thumb pressed lightly into your skin before trailing higher, testing the waters. His eyes flicked down to yours, the grin on his face softening just enough to make your chest tighten. “Energy for what, baby?”

The space between you felt paper-thin, your leg hooked over his hip pulling him closer with every breath. His shirt smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something undeniably him—the citrus smell you always caught a whiff of, and suddenly the twin XL didn’t feel too small at all—it felt like it was forcing you into a choice. His question lingered in the air, heavier than the blankets draped over you both. Your heart thudded against your ribs as if it were trying to answer for you. You tilted your face up toward him, close enough now that the glow of the projector painted his features in soft light—sharp jaw, lashes low but trained on you, lips just parted like he was waiting. For a beat, neither of you moved. The hum of the movie filled the silence, but you barely registered it. Then, like gravity had made the choice for you, you leaned in.

Riki met you halfway.

The kiss was unhurried at first, his lips brushing yours in the lightest graze, as though he was testing to see if you’d pull away. But you didn’t—you pressed back, your hand sliding up to curl into his shirt near his chest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His grip at your thigh tightened, pulling you closer, angling you so there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened almost naturally, like you’d both been holding your breath for weeks and finally let go. His hand slid higher on your thigh, steady but not rushed, while your fingers tugged lightly at the collar of his shirt, urging him closer. The twin bed creaked beneath the shifting weight, the closeness of it all making your pulse race.

Riki angled his head, mouth moving against yours with a hunger that surprised even him—like he’d been trying to starve this part of himself and finally gave in. Your hand brushed along his jaw, thumb grazing the faint stubble there, and he made a sound low in his throat that only pulled you deeper into him. He leaned up, turning to hover over you halfway, springs of the bed whining at the action. But then—just as the air between you turned sharp with heat—he stilled. His lips slowed, then parted from yours, lingering close enough that you could still feel his breath ghost across your mouth. His hand fell from your thigh to rest limply against the sheets, no longer holding you.

“Riki?” you whispered, confusion threading your tone.

He didn’t look away, though something flickered in his eyes—something heavy, almost mournful. He managed a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach as far as it should. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “Got a little carried away.” You searched his face, wanting to ask more, but the way his thumb brushed over your arm—gentle, reassuring—kept you quiet. He wasn’t shutting you out, not really, but whatever sat on his chest wasn’t something he was ready to spill. “Did something happ—”

Instead, he shook his head and pressed the lightest kiss to your temple, grounding, soft. “No, no, no, baby.” he said softly as the two of you were nearly nose-to-nose. “Nothing happened…” He smiled softly as he brushed a curl from your cheek, lightly letting his thumb brush on your lower lip. “Just…didn’t wanna ruin the moment, that’s all.” Your lips parted, ready to argue, to tell him he could never ruin a moment like this—but the way he looked at you stopped the words in your throat. There was a tenderness there, threaded with something heavier, something you didn’t dare press on in case it shattered the fragile quiet between you. So instead, you nodded faintly, your forehead brushing his as your breath mingled in the inch of space left between you. “You can…” you whispered, though your chest ached with the weight of everything unspoken. Riki’s hand left your lip to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. His smile lingered—gentle, almost apologetic—but his eyes softened in a way that made you feel like he saw you, really saw you, beneath all the noise.

He shifted, pressing another kiss to your hairline this time, lingering just long enough that you felt the sincerity tucked into it. “You want me to?” It seemed like every inch of you was melting into this old, creaky bed. That your literal bodily matter could act as a substitute for WD-40 if you both stayed like this. You’ve experienced intimate moments. Moments that made everything blur into background noise. And right now you heard nothing. Absolutely nothing despite the flickering projector and the soundtrack to the ending of 10 Things I Hate About You playing lightly. Yet all you heard was the pick up of your heart rate in your ears. And maybe your own breath. Despite that, you nodded without another word.

Riki leaned in slowly, kissing your cheek. Letting his pillowy lips get a different taste of you as his hand toys with your small hoop earring on your opposite ear. His touch was maddeningly careful, like he was savoring every second before it slipped away. His lips brushed along your jawline, feather-light, leaving a trail of warmth that had your breath hitching in your throat. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him more space, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself. Each kiss was deliberate, patient—not hungry like before, but reverent, like he was mapping you in a language only he knew. He lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Um…I was planning something for this but—” He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing your cheek like he needed the grounding. “I feel like it’s something that I don’t want to hold out on anymore.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting from yours to the pillow, then back again like the words were fighting him on the way out. “I was gonna do this all different—make it special, not, y’know, while we’re half-squished on a squeaky bed watching a rom-com—but…” His hand dropped from your earring to rest gently against your chest, right over your racing heartbeat. “But I can’t sit here and pretend I don’t already know what I want.” He paused, breath unsteady. “I want you. As my girlfriend.”

The room went impossibly still, the hum of the projector fading behind the weight of his words. His voice cracked a little on the last word, like even saying it out loud cost him something. His thumb slowed against your collarbone, tracing nothing in particular, a small, restless circle. He was still looking at you—not cocky, not teasing—just wide-eyed, waiting. The guy who could command a whole court with one look suddenly couldn’t seem to breathe until you spoke. “I’m not talking to anyone else,” he added softly, like a confession he’d been holding onto. “Haven’t been. Haven’t even wanted to. I just…don’t wanna assume anything about you. I don’t wanna ruin what we already have.” The way he said it was so un-Riki—tentative, careful—that it almost broke your heart. You could feel his pulse under your palm where you still held his hoodie, just as erratic as yours. You didn’t even realize you were smiling until you were; the kind of smile that cracked you open from the inside out. “Riki…” you murmured, sliding your hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

His brows pinched, nervous. “In a good way or…?”

“In a way where the answer’s already yes,” you said, your forehead brushing his. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” The tension bled out of him in an instant, his breath catching on a laugh that sounded like relief. He pressed his forehead fully to yours, eyes closing, and let out a long, shaky exhale before kissing you—slow this time, smiling against your mouth.

—

Four months later

—

Life has been very weird for you. Not weird, weird. Just different. Good different.

Your skin is clear, grades stellar, Yasmin, Bella, and Riki were in one piece and the weather has been decent.

Dating Riki hadn’t turned your life upside down the way you thought it might. It wasn’t all fireworks and Instagram-worthy grand gestures. Instead, it was quieter things—the way he reminded you to eat between classes, the way his hoodie always “accidentally” ended up in your laundry pile, the way his laugh sounded different when it was just for you. And somewhere between late-night study sessions and those walks across an ice-slick campus, you realized: this wasn’t weird at all. This was the new normal. And, surprisingly? You liked it.

A relationship with Riki was nothing like you thought it’d be. In some way he was right, you didn’t really know him. “Public, but private” wasn’t really the right phrase anymore. Riki made sure people knew—he held your hand in the quad, kissed you goodbye outside lecture halls, and didn’t even flinch when Yasmin pulled out her phone to record the two of you bickering like an old married couple. Everyone knew you were his, and he was yours. But still, the most meaningful parts weren’t the ones out loud. Sure, he’d tug you into his lap at parties without caring who saw, but it was the softer moments—the way he’d tie your scarf tighter against the cold, or slide his coffee across the table without asking because he knew you needed it—that stuck with you most. Dating Riki wasn’t about hiding or flaunting. It was about existing together, naturally, in public and in private, like there’d never been a time you weren’t in each other’s lives.

Obviously, your bond with him was different than that of yours with Yasmin and Bella’s. Of course because you weren’t romantic with the girls but the friendship aspect wasn’t the same.  Yasmin and Bella were akin to sisters. Their love and friendship was unconditional, unwavering and greatly enough—you met them at freshman orientation and had been inseparable ever since.  The funny little traditions you had. Getting breakfast together every day, even if it was just coffee and a bagel wolfed down before an eight AM class. Your group FaceTimes that always started as study sessions but somehow devolved into debating which professor was most likely to secretly live in the library. Movie nights in Yasmin’s dorm where Bella inevitably fell asleep twenty minutes in, curled up like it was her own personal bed. With Yasmin and Bella, it was easy, almost familial—like home in human form. With Riki, it was…different. Not better, not worse. Just its own kind of important. He didn’t fit into the category of “friend” or “family.” He was the exception. The outlier that made sense.

Riki was an exception. And you noticed that in almost every avenue he occupied that he was an exception. In anything he put effort toward, he had this sort of competitive spirit that he wanted to be a person that was remembered. Not in a loud, look-at-me way, but in the way he showed up, consistently, like he was determined to leave a mark. On the court, in class, even in the way he memorized the little things about you—your coffee order, your weird habit of doodling stars in the margins of your notes, the fact that you hated the word “moist” enough to dramatically gag every time someone said it. Being with him didn’t feel like you were keeping up with a storm or chasing after someone out of reach. It felt like he wanted you right there, beside him. Your mom called it the honeymoon phase and that very well may be true. But like everything with Riki, you tried to live in the moment. Which is bizarre seeing as you overthink everything else. Lately, the girls have been getting used to seeing him around a lot more. While Riki never wanted to overtake your life nor take time away from your friends, he at times found himself getting cool with them as well.

The girls and you stood at the waffle station like usual. Bella, as always, was overseeing the operation. Yasmin was yapping about something related to the bad Wattpad movie she watched last night. 

“Dude,” you smiled. “What are you waffling about?” You nudge her with your elbow, snickering as you cover your mouth. 

Yasmin froze, looking at you blankly. “You did not—”

“—yes, she did,” Bella cut in, shaking her head with mock disappointment. “Every morning, a new low.”

“Hey! Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful.” You snorted as you reached around her to grab the mini cups for the syrup. The pounds of syrup that Yasmin liked drenching her waffles in.

The brunette laughed, “we love you because you’re beautiful. But that shit just wasn’t funny.”

You sigh and wrap your arm around the girl, to which she instinctively rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping her arm around your waist. “You guys are fun-suckers.”

Bella snorted, already halfway through pouring batter into the waffle iron. “Please. We’re the only reason you’re tolerable before ten AM.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “You wound me.”

“Good,” she said dryly, snapping the iron shut like she was sealing a deal. “Maybe it’ll stop the puns.”

Yasmin cackled at that, pulling back from your shoulder just enough to look you in the eye. “Nah, she thrives off this. You’d have to physically mute her.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Bella muttered, reaching for her coffee.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. The three of you moved like clockwork—Bella in charge of batter, you in charge of toppings, Yasmin handling the syrup like it was an Olympic sport. The waffle station wasn’t glamorous, but it was your spot. The one ritual you kept no matter how busy the semester got. That’s when you felt a familiar hand snake around your waist from behind. Riki leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Did I miss roll call, or are you guys planning breakfast without me again?”

Bella groaned without even looking up. “Speak of the devil.”

 Riki gently turned you around to face him, taking the toppings from your grip as he leans in. “Hi baby,” placing his lips on yours gently as he moved a hand to rest on your jaw. His thumb grazing your cheek as you reciprocate. “Mm! I missed that.” You felt your cheeks warm instantly, caught off guard by how easily he could do that—just walk into your morning routine and make everything tilt a little. You tasted the faint sweetness of syrup on his lips, the smell of his cologne cutting through the waffle-station chaos.

“Riki,” you murmured against his mouth, a laugh caught in your throat. “You’re gonna make Yasmin drop the syrup.”

“I already did,” Yasmin deadpanned, though when you turned your head she was smirking. “Don’t mind me. Continue your public display of affection.”

Bella groaned dramatically, flipping a waffle with more force than necessary. “Please, at least let me finish cooking before you two start fucking next to the chocolate chips.”

Riki chuckled against your cheek, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “They’re jealous,” he whispered, his thumb still brushing your jaw. “Let them be jealous.”

You swatted at his chest lightly, though your grin betrayed you. “Please,”

And finally, the four of you sat at your usual corner table—Riki having tagged along like it was the most natural thing in the world. The dining hall buzzed with the Monday morning chaos of clinking trays and half-awake chatter, but somehow, your table felt like its own little bubble. Riki slid into the booth beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table, and immediately stole one of your strawberries without shame. You were used to it. Him stealing your food; like a tax, if you will.

“So what are y’all doing with your weekends?” You hum as you watch Riki cut your half of the waffle into pieces.

He perked up mid-cut, glancing at you with that spark in his eyes that always came out when basketball got brought up. “Ooh, we’re having an away game on Thursday,” he said, the words already carrying a hint of excitement. “It’s at Syracuse, so we’ll be gone for like…two nights, maybe three depending on how long Coach decides to torture us.”

Yasmin and Bella roll their eyes simultaneously. “Dude, ‘Cuse is the worst.” Bella sighed as she slumped back into her chair.

“You’re just a big ball of positivity this morning.” Riki hums as he feeds you a piece of waffle. Hovering his hand below it to catch any syrup that might’ve dripped onto his hand.  You accept the food and nod, speaking through your chewing as you cover your mouth with your hand. “Yeah, what’s up with you? You’ve been acting like a buttmunch all morning.”

Bella groaned, stabbing at her strawberries like they’d personally wronged her. “I’m sorry guys, I just really don’t wanna go to that fucking game.” Riki wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he leaned back into the cushiony seat. “‘Cuse is not that bad. They play dirty but that’s nothing we can’t get around.”

“Dirty?” You looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah,” Yasmin nodded as she sipped her apple juice. “Last season, they fouled one of the guys—Nicholas—so hard. He went for a layup and they shoved him. Fractured his wrist. It was crazy, I felt so bad.”

Your brows lifted, “no way. Did the ref even call it?”

“They did,” Riki sighed. “But at that point, what can you do? You suspend a player, he’s on the bench for the rest of the season—fine. But one of our players is benched indefinitely, has to go to PT for his wrist, he may not play the same, whatever—it was just so much worse for Nico.” He rolled his eyes as he recounted the events of the past. Stirring anger in his stomach as he remembers watching that happen. Bella shook her head. “Yeah, it was bad. It wasn’t like a life-altering injury or anything but it was so shitty on Syracuse’s part.”

“Well…what are you guys gonna do?” You sigh as you rested your hand on Riki’s muscly thigh and leaned your head on his shoulder. 

Yasmin chimed in, “not much. There’s nothing we can do. I mean, their cheer team isn’t really a problem. They’re always super nice. It’s just the fuckass team that gives these guys issues.” She nods to Riki.

“So when do you guys leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bella brought a raspberry to her mouth to chew, looking down at the threading of her skirt—her chewing halts suddenly. “Wait…”

Yasmin smiles brightly, “don’t. Because if we’re thinking the same thing then I’m for it.”

“Oh, we are thinking the same thing,” Bella said, setting her fork down with a little clink. “Babes, you should so come with us!”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Wait, what?” you coughed, slapping the table with your free hand. “You’re inviting me to Syracuse?”

Bella leaned forward, eyes sparkling with that dangerous “I have a terrible idea” kind of excitement. “Think about it. Road trip! We have to cheer anyway, eat gas station snacks, complain about hotel beds—”

“—get screamed at by Syracuse fans and possibly catch another stray basketball to the face,” You interrupted, waving her fork. “Yeah, super fun.”

Riki smacked his teeth. “Don’t even joke about shit like that.”

Bella laughed, flicking a crumb at him. “Relax, Captain Protective. She’s not gonna get decked by a ball again.”

“I’m not opposed to her coming.” Riki clarified, “obviously. But we all get to ride on the team bus, why would you waste your own gas?” 

Yasmin grinned, already scheming. “Because we’re not on the team, genius. We’re with cheer, which means we have to take the spirit bus.”

Riki’s expression twisted. “The spirit bus? The one that smells like glitter and spray tan?”

You furrowed your brows as you leaned away from him, letting his arm fall back on the seat. “How do you know what the spirit bus smells like?” You ask him with suspicion—even mildly irritated.

Riki froze, eyes flicking toward you like a kid caught stealing snacks before dinner. “Huh?” he stalled, fork halfway to his mouth. “I mean…I’ve heard things.”

Bella immediately perked up, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Heard things, huh? Or experienced things?”

Riki set his fork down, leaning forward defensively. “Okay, first of all, I was on there one time. One time. Coach made me grab the banner they left behind after homecoming, and it was like stepping into Candyland.”

You raised an unimpressed brow. “Mhm. So what you’re telling me is that you voluntarily stepped foot on the cheer bus, alone, to grab a banner.”

He pointed at you, shaking his head. “Don’t do that tone thing. It wasn’t like that.”

You squinted at him, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Ooh…” Yasmin murmured to Bella. “Boyfriend in trouble…” She sang as she shimmied her shoulders. 

Riki smiled nervously, eyes darting between you and your two grinning friends. “No, no—don’t let her fool you. She’s trying to make this sound like some scandalous cheer bus rendezvous when I was literally in there for thirty seconds.”

Bella gasped dramatically. “Thirty seconds? That’s all it takes.” Yasmin nearly spit out her juice laughing. You pressed your lips together, trying to look serious but failing miserably as Riki’s ears started turning red. “Wow. I thought you’d last longer than that.”

Riki raised his brows in surprise. “Don’t get cute, baby.” He smiles as he feeds you a grape.

Yasmin and Bella gagged dramatically at the sight but decided to move on. The blonde grinned, leaning across the table. “Admit it, you were curious. You wanted to see how the other half lives.”

“The other half smells like hair spray and glitter glue!” Riki protested, groaning as you finally let out a giggle. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You rested your chin on your palm, smirking up at him. “Maybe. It’s cute when you get defensive.”

“You,” He smiled as he pointed at you. “Are evil.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Evil? I prefer ‘charming,’ thank you very much.”

Riki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but fighting a smile. “Yes, mama—you are very charming but I’d rather you say like messing with me.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Maybe. But you make it so easy.”

Bella snorted. “Yeah, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, dude. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Riki threw her a flat look. “You’re just mad ‘cause your waffles are hard as frisbees.”

“They were abstract,” Bella countered, stabbing one with her fork. “Fuck you, they’re still edible.”

Yasmin laughed so hard she nearly choked on her juice. “Yeah, okay, Picasso.”

You watched the three of them bicker, warmth flooding your chest. Riki didn’t just fit in with your friends anymore—he belonged there, like he’d always been part of the picture. The ease of it all made your heart do that stupid little flip it did whenever you realized how much you liked this boy.

—

Later that day

—

After some relenting, you decided to come with the girls to the game. It didn’t take much convincing.

But even then, something felt amiss. 

Ironically, the day that Riki accidentally knocked you in the face with that ball—it unlocked some type of sixth sense. One where you could just feel, when your left cheek throbbed—that something was about to go left. Yasmin and Bella were making their way off the court and into the arena hallway. Practice was over and they were headed to the locker room to freshen up. As usual, Yasmin was buzzing, Bella was limping. How she hasn’t just quit the team yet, none of you know. As the girls guzzled water, they heard commotion coming from the men’s locker room. The sound was the usual post-practice banter. Laughter, some music echoing off the tile. 

And for some reason, this was the one time the girls decided to be nosy. The guys were pumped after their own practice—adrenaline and testosterone running rapidly through the air. Towels were slung low on hips, sneakers squeaking against the wet tile, music blaring from someone’s speaker. The room smelled like victory and cheap body spray.

“Yo, Riki, be honest,” one of them called out through the steam, “you and that girl—what’s the deal?”

Riki, mid-laugh, froze with a water bottle halfway to his mouth. “What girl?” he asked, but the grin tugging at his lips already betrayed him.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” another chimed in. “The one that’s always waiting after practice. The one with the big eyes. Cute face?”

The guys erupted into hollers and mock ‘oohs.’ Riki shook his head, trying—and failing—to bite back a smile.

Outside the door, Yasmin and Bella’s jaws practically hit the floor.

Yasmin whispered, “Oh, we are so not supposed to be hearing this,” but she leaned in closer anyway.

Bella, deadpan, muttered, “You mean you’re not supposed to. I’m locked in.”

You’d just arrived at the end of the hall when you saw them crouched near the door like undercover agents.

“...What are you guys doing?” you whispered.

Both girls whipped around, wide-eyed, trying and failing to look innocent. Yasmin gestured frantically. “Shh! He’s talking about you!” And just like that, your stomach dropped—and your left cheek started to throb again. You dropped your backpack to the floor as you crouched next to the girls. Stabling yourself against Yasmin as you held her shoulders.

Maki leaned against the opposite lockers, facing Riki with a smirk. “So you get any action yet?”

Riki scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned to his locker—grabbing a clean towel to wipe his bare chest. “Is pussy all you guys think about?”

Some of the guys laughed, Maki included. “Well yeah, sometimes. Especially if I’ve got a girl and she hasn’t put out in the few months we’ve been together.” He whistles, antagonizing the point guard. “I hoped you’d score more than that.” Yasmin’s eyes widened so hard you thought they might fall out of her head. Bella smacked her arm, whisper-yelling, “Oh my god, he did not just say that—”

You didn’t even breathe. Every muscle in your body went rigid, eyes fixed on the thin crack of light between the door and the frame.

Inside, Riki let out a dry laugh, low and humorless. “You don’t know what I do, dumbass. Who do you think I am?”

If there was one thing that you knew about men, it was that it only took but so much to make them crack. They were easy. Toy with them, keep them on their toes. And you prided yourself on knowing Riki. His quirks like touching a doorframe before walking through. Scratching his jaw when he was irritated.

But you certainly knew his type: you. Because he told you. He made sure you knew through his words but action as well. He likes someone that he can upkeep a rapport with. A fun personality and a sharp mouth to match his. Someone who could keep up with him in a room full of noise, toss a jab back when he threw one first. You’d always joked that you were built to spar with him, not swoon over him. It amazed you, really. Because narrowing down the versions of Riki you saw, you knew that there was one side that you’d experienced up until this point wouldn’t make an appearance. The nasty, egotistical one. 

Your cheek throbbed again.

“I think you’re better than this.” Maki laughed. “You’re whipped.” Snorting as he grabbed his towel to swipe Riki with it as the rest of the team followed. Spanking him with their towels as all of them shared laughs—Riki included. “Hey! Hey hey hey!” He straightened up as he shrunk into himself before. Laughing as he nudged the guys off. “I’m not whipped! Okay? You really think the Riki Nishimura, basketball extraordinaire is whipped?” He says dramatically, as if he’s some king giving a royal decree.

“Oh fuck…” Yasmin mumbled to herself in panic, hand feeling for yours as she gripped it tightly.  But Riki kept going. “All these girls are the same, Maki.” He smiled—slickly, as he got closer to the shorter lowerclassmen. “Just another hole to fill and if you think I can’t get any then you’re as dumb as you look.” Riki’s eyes scanned the younger as he poked his forehead. “Let Big Bro show you something.”

You froze. Your stomach dropped into your shoes, and your left cheek throbbed—not just from the memory of the ball, but from the words echoing across the locker room. Yasmin’s grip on your hand tightened like she was trying to anchor both of you to reality. “Nope. Nope. Nope,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

Bella’s jaw had practically hit the floor, a mix of disbelief and shock frozen on her face. “What the fuck?” You didn’t even let yourself finish the thought. Riki’s swaggering smirk, the way he leaned over the younger guy, his words sliding out like they were rehearsed, hit you harder than any basketball ever could. This wasn’t the playful, teasing Riki you knew. This was calculated, confident, and…something darker. Something that felt like a stranger pretending to be the man you loved.

“Show me what? How to not get play?” Maki shook his head with a laugh. “You’re not that guy, trust me.”

“I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing.” Riki shrugged, “fucking around and winning.” Your stomach twisted. That laugh—the arrogance—it didn’t belong to the Riki you knew, the one who kissed and touched you like the prize you were, who stole your kiwi, who teased you just enough to make you laugh. This version was a performance. And part of you hated that you even recognized it, that it was still so convincingly him.

Yasmin leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “We should go…now.” Her hand squeezed yours like she was trying to pull both of you back to safety. You hesitated, eyes glued to Riki. He was laughing now, tossing the younger guy a smirk like it was all a game. The energy was intoxicating, magnetic, but it made your chest feel tight. You wanted to call him out, to make him stop—but at the same time, you were frozen, caught somewhere between anger, disbelief, and the part of you that still loved him fiercely. Yasmin’s voice broke through again, urgently. “Seriously, we’re leaving before this gets worse.” But how could it?  You let her tug you gently, glancing back at Riki one last time. His grin was still there, but now it was softer, more familiar. And somehow, that made your chest ache even more, caught between relief and frustration.

—

The three ended up in Bella’s dorm, which was the closest to the arena. You knew you couldn’t make it all the way to your dorm without breaking down.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, the chaos of the arena felt miles away. The muffled sounds of the men’s locker room were replaced by the faint hum of the radiator and the soft creak of the dorm floorboards. Yasmin dropped onto Bella’s bed with a dramatic groan, clutching her water bottle like it was a life preserver. You sank onto the edge, hands pressed to your face as you tried to steady your breathing. The image of Riki—the conceited, dark version of him—kept flashing in your mind. It wasn’t that you doubted him. You knew him. You thought you did. But that side, that…performative dominance? It was a reminder that there were layers of him you hadn’t touched, weren’t sure you ever would. And then the floodgates came down.

Grabbing one of her pillows, you buried your face as sobs racked through your chest. Yasmin and Bella froze for a moment, exchanging a glance that said without words: do we intervene, or give her a second?

Yasmin was the first to react, gently kneeling beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey…hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Breathe. Just breathe.” You couldn’t stop the shaking, couldn’t stop the tears that spilled into the pillow. “I…he’s…he’s not just…he’s…” Your words stumbled and fractured, barely audible. The part of you that tried to rationalize, to ground yourself in months of trust and tenderness with Riki, felt useless against the image of the stranger-like version of him.

Bella joined in, kneeling on the other side and grabbing your hands gently. “I got you,” she said simply. “We’ve got you. Nothing he did—or who he was being in there—changes the fact that we’re gonna be here for you every step of the way.” Your body trembled against them, the sobs coming in uneven waves. Yasmin rested her chin on your shoulder, humming softly like she had when you were a kid after a nightmare. Bella squeezed your hands, her eyes warm but steady. Together, they anchored you, a living reminder that the world wasn’t just Riki and his shadows.

After what felt like an eternity, the sobs slowed. Your chest heaved as you tried to suck in air, finally lifting your face from the pillow to see their concerned, gentle expressions. “I…thank you,” you whispered, your voice raw. “I just…I knew it, bro.” You punched your palm in frustration. “My parents fucking told me.” Your voice wavered as warm tears ran down your face. “I should’ve listened to my fucking gut!” Yasmin’s arms tightened around you, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes. “Hey, hey…shh. No blaming yourself. None of this is on you.” She rubbed small circles into your shoulder, comforting you like she always did.

Bella nodded firmly, her grip on your hands unyielding. “Exactly. You’re not responsible for him being…whatever that was. You’ve been trusting, you’ve been patient—that’s all you could do. And yeah, maybe your gut had warnings, but you didn’t listen—so what? You’re a human being.” You pressed your face back into the pillow, muffling a sob, but the two of them stayed right there, unwavering. The warmth from Yasmin on one side, Bella on the other, felt like the only solid ground in a storm that had your world tilting.

“Hey.” Bella continues firmly, bringing your face up to look at her. Her blue eyes locking with your own eyes. “Fuck that guy. If he wants to speak about you in such a disgusting, deplorable way to stroke his own ego—by all means. But that doesn’t make or break you. It only says something—everything—about him.” You blinked through the tears, letting her words sink in, heavy and grounding all at once. The anger bubbling in your chest mingled with the ache, a strange but familiar cocktail. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” you murmured, your voice cracking slightly. “It’s not me. It’s…him.” Yasmin squeezed your shoulder, her grip firm, unyielding. “Exactly. And we’re not letting that bullshit stick to you. He can act like a fool all he wants—doesn’t change who you are, or what you deserve.” Bella gave a small, almost fierce smile, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “You are not defined by what some guy tries to pull, okay? Not Riki, not Maki, not anyone. You’re solid. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re a fucking—you’re absolutely stunning. A smoke show. And—fuck it—you’re ours. And we don’t let anyone talk down to our girl.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more release than humor, leaning into their warmth. “I—I just…God, I hate that it stings.” “And it will,” Yasmin said softly, but firmly. “For a second, for a day, maybe even a week. But that’s fine. You feel it, then we leave it there. You don’t have to deal with it alone. Not now, not ever.” The room fell quiet for a moment, save for your uneven breaths and the soft hum of the radiator. And in that silence, you realized something—this wasn’t just comfort. This was armor. Solid, unbreakable, built of friendship and love that no locker room bravado could ever touch. And instead of making you feel some sense of support, love, security—it sent the wrath of the devil through you.

The signs were there from the beginning, the chasing, the bombarding his way into your life. The hesitance during the first kiss. The trying so hard to make you like him then laying it on thick—it was all right in front of you.  You let him encroach on your girl time—the fact that you even let him get close to the two most important people in your life felt like betrayal in itself. Like you handed him the keys to your sanctuary and he just stomped through it.  Blows to your pride were something you didn’t take lightly and this was something you couldn’t just swallow.  What about your feelings? What about the other, maybe, dozens of girls he’d used like a tissue and tossed to the bin?! You were sick and tired of seeing so many girls and women—people—fall victim to assholes like Riki Nishimura. 

Just another hole? Fine. You need retribution. And you need it now.

Heat turned to ice in your veins and something in you snapped neat and clean—not a sob this time, not a plea. A cold, focused fury rose up, quiet and terrible. You didn’t want a meltdown anymore.

“I’m going to ruin his life.” You mumbled to yourself as your jaw clicked. “I’m going to make him wish he never met me.”

Yasmin and Bella froze, giving each other looks. Before Yasmin spoke up, “hey…” She cleared her throat. “Let’s ease up, okay? You’re upset and—”

You sit up straight, getting up from the bed as you angrily paced back and forth. “No. I’m fucking livid. I mean who does this dickhead think he is?! Me?! Nothing but a fucking hole to fuck when he’s the one that damn near—no—begged me to even talk to him?” As the two girls looked at you, both of their expressions differed. Yasmin, like always, led with her heart. Her gentle features framed by her curtain bangs, she was always the one to consider someone before anything. The friend that would give her last meal if it meant you ate. The person that would sit on the phone with you for hours just to hear you vent if it meant that it’d help you.

Bella led with her brain. Her wavy hair was out of her face, wearing her emotions for you to see plainly. She had such a knack for getting the both of you out of sticky, overthink-y situations. She’d tell you when you were being ridiculous but would dive in the deep end with you if you so chose. And yet, they looked at you just as one would expect.  Yasmin was on the verge of tears herself, her eyes brimming as her lips pouted. Seeing you this unhinged was so beyond her and she shook her head, looking down at her own hands. 

Bella was locked, though. Her sharp features rested calmly though her jaw was set. Which made sense. Someone does something outrageous, she’s upset. That makes sense. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice steady in that way that made you want to either hug her or throw something. “Then what’s the plan, genius? You gonna torch his car? Leak something? Because as much as I’d love to see that boy panic for once in his life, I think you want something smarter than that.”

Her calmness only made your pulse pound harder. You wanted movement. Consequence. You wanted Riki’s name to taste like ash in every mouth that said it. But even as the fury roared, Bella’s words dug in—she wasn’t dismissing you. She was challenging you to make it count. Yasmin stood, wiping under her eyes and grabbing your arm gently. “You’re hurt, dude. Like, badly. And that’s okay. But if you do something you can’t take back, you’ll regret it—and he’ll still win. You’re better than this. Don’t stoop to his level.”

“Or what, Yas? Just let him give me his ass to kiss?” You shrugged, laughing humorlessly. “I—”

“Dude, just break up with him! Call it quits. But you don’t have to try to ruin his entire—”

“Look,” Bella stood up as she chimed in. “In some way, Yas is right. While I’d love to see his life ruined—stooping lower doesn’t exactly do you any favors. Because then what? Guys get off easy, you know that. You’d just be the bitter, scorned lover and would have an entire fan base and university hate you. Is it worth that?” She said carefully.

You stared at her like she’d just said something in another language. “So I’m supposed to just…what? Move on? Pretend he didn’t just violate like that?”

Bella exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No. I’m saying—you play it smart. He wants you to be emotional. He wants drama because it makes him look composed. Don’t give him that. If you’re gonna do some shit then just know that I don’t condone it. But…” She pursed her lips as she cleared her throat. “I’m down. What are we doing?” Yasmin looks at Bella like she has three heads. “Are we being serious right now?” Then looking back at you. “Hello? Am I speaking a language you don’t understand? Just dump the guy, it’s not worth it—I’m telling you!” She held your arms as she looked at you—pleading. “You may be hot now but I’m telling you —mark my words—you will regret it.”

“Then let me,” you shrug, “look, I’m not gonna kill him or anything.”

Yasmin blinked, her nostrils flaring as she loosened her grip on your arms. Leaning back as she let out a breath. “…Fine. But I still vote you dump him and skip the theatrics. I do not want to be in a courtroom later.”

“Oh stop it, Yasmin.” Bella smacked her teeth as she waved her off. “She’s just going to fuck with him a little probably.”

“Exactly,” you nod. “I have ideas…but I’m not gonna break up with him.” You smiled deviously, “I’m just going to throw him off his game.”

—

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come, mama?” Riki frowned as he stood by his apartment door. 

The Syracuse game was tomorrow and the basketball and cheer teams were leaving in t-minus one hour. Since both your friends and Riki invited you to come along, you figured you’d stay behind. For obvious reasons. “I’m sure, baby.” You sighed as you leaned against the door. “I have a presentation for my Ethics class that I’ve hardly started. I gotta lock in.” 

The tall man nudged his suitcase away, “are you sure? You’re more than welcome to come.” He steps forward, grabbing your hands as he kisses them. Making his way up your wrists and it took everything in you not to vomit in your mouth. “You know I play better with you there.” “Sorry, but I really can’t. If I miss this deadline, I could fail. It’s a major assignment.” You shrug a shoulder. “You know how it is…”

Riki nods, “I do, mama, you know I do.” He pouts as he lets go of your arm and pulls you into a hug. “Well…” He exhales dramatically. “I’ll miss you. And I left you the key and my card on the counter. The place is yours.” He leaned down to peck your lips to which you reciprocated. Kissing Riki at this juncture contested your morals. Half of you felt bitter, the other sweet. That the recollection of his words then and now threw you for a loop. You battled with hating him with your brain but loving him with your body. You cupped his face as you tilted your head into the kiss. Lips gliding across his as smacking reverberated throughout the quiet pad. He hummed into the exchange as his hands rested on your ribcage, just below your breasts. Sliding down to your waist but you pulled back before he got any ideas.

“I’ll call you. I wanna hear all about your night, okay?” Riki kissed your knuckles again like he was sealing a promise and then he was gone—suitcase rolling, keys jangling, the door shutting with that small finality that suddenly made the apartment feel way too big. You stood there an extra beat, breathing out the sight of him walking away down the hall, feeling that weird cocktail of relief and venom fizz in your gut. You locked the door and immediately got to work. You started with something simple.

Going to the fridge, you shuffled through the fridge for his protein shakes and green juices. And without a second thought did you gather them all along the counter. You lined every bottle up like little soldiers about to meet their maker. Vanilla whey, chocolate whey, matcha greens, the ominous “superfuel” one that smelled like spinach and dirt. Every one of them—fuel for his precious pregame routine, the routine he swore by. The same routine he’d bragged about perfecting since middle school.

You grabbed the first bottle.

Twist, breaking the seal with a crack. Pour. Down the sink it went, a depressing brown waterfall glug-glug-glugging into the drain.

It felt like sex.

You didn’t stop there. One by one, you emptied every single drink. Protein? Gone. Greens? Gone. That weird probiotic mango kefir he always insisted “was life-changing?” Down the pipes like it was nothing.

By bottle five, you were humming. By bottle nine, you were laughing. By bottle thirteen, you were leaning your weight on the counter like, wow, I’m actually unwell. But oh, it felt good. When you were done, the counter looked like a crime scene. Caps everywhere. Empty bottles lined up like trophies. The sink foam-green from the mixture of whatever the hell he’d been consuming. You rinsed the sink out of the mess, gathered the bottles in a garbage bag to take out—not leaving a trace. You wiped your hands on a dish towel, chest rising and falling as the first hit of petty victory lit your veins. 

Step one complete. Sabotage the routine.

Step two?

You opened the pantry. Protein powder. Pre-workout. Hydration packs. Then, you took the pre-workout and loosened the lid by half a turn. Just loose enough that, when he inevitably grabbed it in a rush, the powder would pop out in a satisfying puff—onto him, the counter, the floor.

Your phone buzzed.

angel: what’s the status, brittany snow?

You: all the bodily fluids GONEEE

pretty princess: girl PLEASE what does that even mean

You: his nasty ass shakes

pretty princess: EEEYUCK ???

angel: LMFAOOO

You smiled, pocketing your phone.

You walked into his bedroom next—the sanctum. Neat, annoyingly neat. Bed made. Shoes lined up. Posters straight. Laundry basket empty.

Perfect. You didn’t have to destroy anything. You just…shifted.

Nothing too far—just enough out of place that he’d be tearing the room apart in thirty minutes. His practice hoodie? You folded it and tucked it under the bed. His favorite beanie? Behind the headboard.

Small inconveniences. It’s all super silly, but throwing someone out of their rigid routine meant a lot more than one thought.

Then you opened his nightstand drawer and saw it.

The Polaroid of you he kept. The one from your second date. Crooked, sun-washed, you laughing with your face turned away from the camera. You simply flipped it faced down.

That was enough. He’d open the drawer and know something had shifted.

And then, for the finishing touch, you slid a sticky note onto his mirror. hi baby, did some cleaning up <3

You stepped back to survey the apartment—quiet, calm, meticulously disturbed.

A masterpiece of emotional warfare.

You dusted off your hands and whispered to yourself, almost sweetly: 

Your cheek didn’t throb this time. It pulsed.

You weren’t done. 

Not even close.

— Two days later

1 Missed Call from Riki

riki: baby what happened to all my shakes and juices…?

you: can’t call, in class rn what do you mean?

riki: sorry mama but i got back to the crib and i saw that all of my juices were gone did you clean?

you: yeah i left a note, sorry idk why i didn’t just text you that i cleaned up lmao ??

You stared at the blinking cursor, tongue poking into your cheek as you imagined him standing in front of his open fridge, hands on his hips like somebody’s stressed single mother. Perfect.

riki: ok but like all of my juices? every single one?

you: …why does that matter?

Three dots. Then none. Then the message bubble disappeared like he was pacing around his kitchen trying to form a coherent thought with no electrolytes in his bloodstream.

riki: i’m not mad, baby just confused they were FULL bottles did you throw them away??

You leaned back against the couch, laughing as you snuggled into your duvet.

you: yeah, they were old. dates looked weird. didn’t wanna risk expired protein diarrhea in my lover <3

Another long pause.

riki: babe those were bought THREE DAYS AGO like t h r e e  d a y s  a g o ??

you: oh. baby i’m so sorry.

There was something deeply satisfying about imagining him standing there, fridge light illuminating the disbelief on his face, probably blinking like he’d been smacked with a baguette.

riki: ok…it’s fine…it’s fine i’ll just get more in the morning before shootaround it’s cool

Liar. You could smell the stress through the phone.

you: you good? you seem stressed

riki: no i’m good i gotta go to team meetings rn but can i call u later? want ur voice before i sleep, or maybe u could sleepover

You stared at the message. You could almost feel the shift—like he was trying to recalibrate, shake off the unease creeping under his skin.

you: we’ll see. depends on my workload.

Saying that but you know damn well you’re going to sleepover.

riki: …ok i love you

You typed. Erased. Typed again.

you: love you too

You locked your phone, letting it drop onto your thigh as the familiar pulse flickered through your left cheek. That tiny, electric reminder of what started all this.

—

Later that day

—

“Goodnight, mama.” 

“Night, baby.” You smiled as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to Riki’s lips as he sighed into it. He ran his hand down your back as he broke the kiss to press a smooch to your cheek. “I love you forever.” He mumbled against your cheek. “You love me?”

You rolled your eyes, chest burning with anguish and resentment. But you had to keep the ruse. “Mhm,” turning your face to peck his jaw as you found he looked at you. Resting his hand on your cheek as his chocolatey eyes melted at the sight of you under the warm light.  And somehow, seeing him—seeing him look at you in this way almost entrapped you again. Made you remember who he was to you. The pop-ups with dinner, the random dates, the proud affection he gave you.  But it was just that. Because what happened? What did you do? Where did you go wrong? And how was he just able to turn it on and off that way? You saw the glint in his eyes, the way he slightly towered over his junior in the locker room as he degraded you for tens of other people to hear. As humiliating as it is, he knew you’d have to be around those same people. Greeting them, sitting courtside and cheering them on. It was almost sociopathic.

“Good. Because I love you even more.” He leaned in to peck your lips repeatedly. “Push me off or I won’t leave these lips alone.” He purred, bringing his hand to your jaw. 

You smiled, returning them before you pulled back and he let you. “Go to sleep, casanova.” Riki grinned—soft, lazy, stupidly in love—like the world outside that bedroom didn’t exist. Like he hadn’t gutted you less than a week ago without even knowing he held the knife. He lay back, tugging you down with him until your foreheads brushed and his thumb stroked your cheek with that reverent tenderness reserved for saints and girlfriends. Not holes.

“Mm…I’ll sleep if you kiss me one more time,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, voice dipped in honey. “C’mon, mama…just one.”

He was so close you could feel every breath, warm and even, laced with trust so blind it felt like a dare. You huffed a soft laugh, leaning in, letting your lips graze his—barely there, feather-light. Just enough to sell it. Just enough to keep him wrapped in the version of you he thought he owned. His lids fluttered shut like it was instinct, like your touch was the last thing he needed to sleep.

He whispered it again, softer this time. “Love you. Forever.”

The words slid under your skin like ice.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of his mouth as he nuzzled into your palm like a spoiled cat. You gave him your warmest smile—sweet, sleepy, harmless. “Goodnight, baby.” He sank into the pillow with a little satisfied exhale, reaching blindly for your hand like he couldn’t fall asleep without it. His fingers threaded through yours, grip loose and trusting. Within a minute, his breathing evened out, lashes still against his cheekbones, lips parted just a little.

Peaceful. Completely unaware.

You watched him for a long moment—watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, the slow flutter of his fingers as they loosened around yours, the way his features looked almost boyish in dream-light. The version of him he let you have. The one no one else got.

The one he weaponized behind your back.

Your smile faded the second his breathing confirmed he was fully under.

You slipped your hand from his, slow and soundless. Sat up. Watched him one last time—because you needed to—then stood.

His phone glowed faintly on the nightstand, screen half-lit from a notification.

You snuck over, bare feet silent on the floor. Up close he looked smaller, somehow—all that swagger folded into the slow rise and fall of sleep. Your hand hovered for a second, then moved without drama: you pulled the cable from the phone. The charger came free with a soft click that sounded way louder in the hush than it should have. The phone screen blinked, then dimmed to black as charging stopped. Then you quietly placed the phone on the floor between the bedside table and bed. So you could suggest that maybe just maybe, it fell while he was asleep.

There was no time for you to feel bad. No space for you to have any regard for him and his feelings.  You slipped back into your side of the bed, lifting the comforter just enough to slide under without shifting the mattress. Riki didn’t even twitch—just mumbled something incoherent and rolled slightly toward your now-empty hand, searching for it in his sleep. The kind of soft instinct that once melted you.

Now it just hardened your resolve. You settled onto your pillow, facing him. His lashes brushed his cheeks, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and the corners of his mouth were relaxed—none of that locker-room arrogance, none of that cruel swagger. Just a boy sleeping.

Your cheek pulsed again. You breathed out slowly, quietly. No hesitation. No guilt. If anything, a sharp, wicked satisfaction bloomed low in your chest. He’d wake up groggy, confused, panicked from oversleeping, trip over his own excuses. Miss warmups. Piss off his coach. Maybe his whole rhythm would be off for the rest of the day. And it wouldn’t be traced back to you. Cute.

You turned your head on the pillow, watching the faint glow of the digital clock on the wall.

11:23 PM.

Plenty of time before he needed to wake up.

Plenty of time for his phone—now unplugged and hidden—to drain just enough.

You shifted slightly, the bedsprings creaking faintly. Riki moved too, instinctively throwing an arm over your waist, pulling you back into him with sleepy strength. His breath warmed the back of your neck.

If someone walked in, they’d think this was love.

But you stared straight ahead, eyes open, awake and focused, your mind already sketching the next domino to tip.

—

The morning was a quiet, serene one. The sun’s grace poured through the windowpane as it painted the bedding in gold, catching on the dust motes swirling lazily in the air. The apartment was warm, still, the way it only ever was when fall-winter sunlight decided to be nice for once. Riki shifted behind you with a soft groan, his arm tightening for a second before he blinked himself awake. You didn’t move—just breathed evenly, eyes half-closed like you’d been asleep, not wide awake planning the trajectory of his downfall. “Mmm…what time is it…?” he mumbled, voice low and raspy with sleep. One of those sounds that used to make your stomach turn to lava.

Now it curled your lip.

He reached over your waist, patting blindly along the nightstand until his hand hit nothing but wood. He frowned, still groggy, lifting his head to look. “Huh?”

Your lashes fluttered open just enough to watch him through the tiniest sliver.

He pushed himself up onto an elbow, hair sticking in every direction. “Where’s my phone…?”

You stretched slowly, selling the morning softness. “I don’t know,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “You tossed and turned like crazy.” He blinked, confused. “Did I?” He leaned over the edge of the bed, eyes widening slightly when he spotted the phone wedged between the table and frame—exactly where you left it.

“Oh. Damn.” He grabbed it, pressing the side button.

Nothing.

He held it down longer.

Still nothing.

“What the—” his brows furrowed. “Baby, it’s dead? It was charging.”

You sat up, pulling the blanket around your shoulders like you were just as confused as him. “Did the cable come out? You know that outlet is loose.”

Riki shoved the cord into the phone again and flipped it over—and the second he saw the blank battery symbol flash and disappear, panic lit his whole face. “Oh shit—what time is it?!” He scrambled, grabbing the digital clock on the nightstand like it held the secrets of the universe.

07:42 AM.

Workouts were at six.

Scrimmage started at seven-thirty.

His entire body went rigid. “Baby, baby—fuck, I’m late—Coach is gonna fuck me up—”

You let your expression twist into perfectly curated worry. “Oh my god, Riki—go! Hurry, go!” He shot out of bed, nearly tripping as he yanked on sweatpants with one leg still tangled. His heartbeat practically pulsed through the apartment as he raced around, grabbing his duffel, portable charger, shoving random shirts inside, searching frantically for his warmup jacket. Scrambling through his closet, throwing shirts and pants off the rack and onto the floor. “What the fuck?! Where’s my fucking sweater?”

“What sweater, baby?” You yawned as you stood up, your socks hitting the carpeted floor.  “My purple Decelis fleece? The one—nevermind I don’t have time.” He turned back around to grab a random, black pullover. You padded into the kitchen with the blanket still around your shoulders, half-yawning, half-smirking into the fabric where he couldn’t see. Behind you, you heard the frantic gargling, toothbrush clattering into the sink, the thud of cabinet doors closing too hard.

You opened the fridge, all innocent-like, and pulled out the protein pancake mix he loved—the one he always made on game days for “optimal energy.” You set it on the counter on purpose, knowing damn well he wouldn’t have the time to use it, but the sight alone would salt the wound. “Baby—!” Riki called through toothpaste foam, stumbling out of the bathroom, hair a wild disaster. “Have you seen my arm sleeve? The black one with the—fuck—never mind—”

He barreled past you, nearly knocking into the counter as he tore through the drawers. You stepped aside, clutching your blanket tighter, doing a very convincing impression of a sleepy, supportive girlfriend instead of the overseer of operations. The puppet master. “You want me to make you a quick smoothie?” you asked sweetly, batting your lashes like breakfast was even possible.

He huffed, chest heaving. “No—I—shit—I don’t have time.” He dropped to his knees to search under the couch. “Coach is gonna kill me. He’s literally gonna kill me.”

You peeked over the edge of the counter. “Did you check the rack by the door?”

“For what?!” His voice cracked in panic as he scrambled back to his feet.

“Your arm sleeve.”

Riki sprinted to the entryway—and there it was. Right next to his shoes. Propped neatly. Like a little gift.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, shoving it into his duffel. “I love you—I literally love you—” You smiled softly, touching your chest like his words warmed you instead of making your stomach curdle. “I know, baby. Don’t forget your protein powder.” You hugged the blanket closer to you.

He groaned, “you’re right.” He brushed past you and to the cabinet. Opening it quickly and reaching for the tub by the lid. And before he could make another step, it was like it started snowing.  With a clatter and thud, the tub hit the counter before its contents spilled all over the floor.

A cloud of chalky white billowed up like a blizzard in a snow globe someone had just punted across the room. Protein powder went everywhere—on the counter, the floor, his socks, your socks, the air itself. It was a crime scene. A lactose-based natural disaster. A winter wonderland from hell. Riki froze mid-motion, one hand still gripping the lid, the other suspended like he wasn’t sure whether to catch the explosion or just accept defeat. His pupils blew wide with pure, uncut panic.

“…No.” He whispered it like a prayer, a curse, and an obituary all at once. “No, no, no—bro, what the fuck—”

You gasped, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh my god!” Your hands smothered your laugh, your chest caving in nearly gave you away.

“I don’t—shit—fuck—WHY IS IT SO FULL?!” He coughed violently as the powder puffed straight into his face, coating his lashes and settling in his hair like freshly fallen frost.

You rushed forward, blanket trailing behind you like a cape of sympathy. “Oh—don’t breathe, don’t breathe—okay, wait, no—do breathe—you need oxygen—” He spun in a frantic circle, slipping slightly on the powder-covered tile. “Coach is gonna kill me and I look like I just got baptized in whey protein! I can’t—baby, I can’t—”

“Riki,” you said softly, reaching out to brush some of the powder from his cheek. “It’s okay. Just…wipe it off. You still have time.”

“No I fucking don’t.” He grabbed the edge of the sink and leaned over it like he was about to weep. “I’m already late. I was meant to be there—” he squinted at the blinking oven clock through his snowstorm bangs, “—FIFTEEN minutes ago!”

“Don’t yell at me!” You brushed your socks off. “It’s not like I made you late for practice for the first time in—”

“Never! I’ve never been late.” He wiped his face aggressively with a dish towel, leaving streaks that made him look like he’d been lightly dusted by a pastry chef. Powder still clung to his hoodie, his sleeves, the entire front of his body like static made of sadness.

He gave one last distressed look around the kitchen, defeated. “I—fuck—okay—no shake today—I don’t need it—I’ll eat a banana or some shit—oh my god—”

You did your best wide-eyed, supportive girlfriend impression. “You’re gonna be okay. Just go! Talking to me about it does nothing.”

Riki nodded once—shaky, determined, a man on the brink—then darted back toward the door, leaving a trail of protein footprints behind him. Before he left, he popped back in, pressed a powder-scented kiss to your forehead, and whispered: “Love you—lock up when you leave—text you later—please pray for me. Leave the mess, I’ll clean when I get back.”

And then he was gone again, bolting down the hallway like a man fleeing a crime scene.

When the door shut, the powder finally settled.

And so did your laughter. 

Pulling out your phone, you figured a group FaceTime was underway. 

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye—not from sadness, but from laughing so hard your ribs hurt. The kitchen looked like the inside of a snow globe that had been shaken by a toddler with vengeance issues. And the image of Riki sprinting out the door, looking like the Ghost of Christmas Past, would feed you for weeks. Still snickering, you reached for your phone, thumbing open FaceTime and tapping on the group chat with Yasmin and Bella: The Holy Trinity™.

It rang twice.

And then both girls appeared on your screen in chaotic split view—Yasmin in her bonnet, mascara smudged under her eyes like she’d just woken up or cried or both, and Bella with her hair clipped back, already slurping iced coffee like it was noon instead of seven-something in the morning. “Oh my gosh,” Bella groaned, squinting at your background. “Why does it look like you’re filming from inside a cocaine factory?”

“Bro,” Yasmin choked, leaning closer to the camera. “Is that snow? Did it snow in his kitchen? Why is there…why is there powder on your tits—”

You burst into another fit of laughter, nearly dropping the phone. “Guys—guys, wait—he dropped the tub of protein that I placed.”

Bella’s jaw dropped. “No. No, don’t lie to me. Tell me he looked stupid.”

“So fucking stupid,” you said proudly. “He looked like Frosty the Snowman on creatine.” You chuckled, flipping the camera to reveal the catastrophe. Bella screamed. Not yelled—not gasped—she let out the kind of shriek that could summon emergency services. Yasmin laughed so loud that the microphone didn’t even pick up the sound. They couldn’t see you laughing though the camera shook as you tried to get ahold of yourself. “Oh shit…this is way more fun than I thought.” You wiped a tear from your eye as you flipped the camera back to yourself. “Guys…he said ‘please pray for me’ before running out the door. Like he was going to war. Like he was going to send me letters from the trenches or something.”

“Ooh, what else is there?”

—

As a result of the last two weeks of torment you put Riki through, you’ve been nothing but happy to see him slowly become a fragmented, mildly skittish and paranoid shell of himself.  And you didn’t even have to do anything to him. A lot of these things were self-inflicted. Whenever you approached him on campus, he would jump before you could make him aware that it was you.

When he showered, he somehow found that his shampoo was always nearly empty. Hardly enough to even lather up. And when he did have to replace it (now almost weekly), he always felt like there was a Nair-y stench to it.  The protein powder remained in the cracks of the kitchen’s wooden floor. He felt that his hair was thinning even though it clearly wasn’t. Riki also discovered that he had a fish allergy—courtesy of the fried cod you made him. The reaction was very mild, just an antihistamine and it knocked him right out. You didn’t know he had this allergy. 

You’re not that crazy.

Unfortunately, the only thing that the universe—with the interference of you—couldn’t seem to shake was that fucking basketball shit. No matter how many times you tried to curb his alarms (he set multiple and bought an alarm clock), hide stuff (he packs his bag the night before now), and secretly pray for his downfall—it just never happened. Riki’s stats still stayed the exact same. Averaging thirty points per game, seven rebounds, eight assists. He hardly called you after practice with weight on his voice. And that was the only thing that Riki did his best to protect. Basketball was his sanctuary and as vain as it sounded: he considered himself to be a seasoned vet already. If he learned anything from playing—enduring—this sport for his whole life it was two things: don’t be a selfish player—not just in game, but in life. And leave any and all personal shit off the court. 

And that if he held both of these things close to his heart and led with love, then he was going to be alright. 

But he was a human being. Most importantly, he was a man. An egomaniacal, self centered man. And just like any other human being, he made mistakes and with those two values he held tightly to his chest—if he slipped then he’d feel it. So everyday, for the last two weeks—he reflected. What exactly did he do to be so out of whack recently? He wasn’t selfish. He loves you, honors you, does everything that a boyfriend should right?  Yeah, Coach yelled at him the day he was late. But he ultimately suffered no consequences as that was his first offense. But still, despite that—he ran three laps around the arena to be fair to his teammates. You and him haven’t argued yet. In the four months that you had been together, everything went swimmingly. Nothing that you’ve done has sincerely pissed him off. The closest thing might’ve been the day with his juices being gone. But it was an honest mistake. But besides that, everything that he felt for you from the start remained—if anything, it only intensified. There wasn’t a moment where he didn’t want to be in your skin. To hold you and tell you how breathtaking you were. How every conversation with you felt like talking to a friend. Like he’s known you his whole life.  So what did he do? What did he do to be having such a tough time? What was he getting karma for?

—

You sat in your dorm, munching on a salad as you were working on an assignment that was ten days past due. But truthfully, it was already beyond late—you didn’t care about making it up anymore.

Your main concern was your next point of action: kill Riki Nishimura. Not like actually kill him or anything. 

This was going to be your magnum opus: killing him socially. Bella and Yasmin didn’t think you could do it. More like they didn’t want you to. But you had it all mapped out. And your beloved boyfriend had no clue. Not one. He made it easy with how weird he was being. The best revenge comes from doing hardly nothing at all. Watching him feel like a stranger in his own skin brought you enough joy to last you three lifetimes. 

But you were greedy.

—

The arena’s noise was thick. You could feel it in your ribs—the music from the above speakers, the chatter, the sharp whistle of sneakers on the waxed court. You sat front row, dead center. The perfect sightline. The perfect stage. Your fingers shook—not from nerves, but from the kind of adrenaline that comes before impact. You had the note written out. Printed. Folded once. Sitting like a loaded weapon in your lap. You could feel the weight of it pressing through your jeans. Bella had clocked it the second she saw you. Yasmin’s eyes darted to the paper, then to your face, then back again. They didn’t even need to say it out loud; the girl telepathy was loud enough to deafen. The blonde’s attention remained on you but she placed her hand on Yasmin’s arm. “What the fuck is she doing?”

“I don’t know!” The olive skinned girl shrugged as her doe eyes widened in fright. “She didn’t say anything about doing something public.”

Bella shook her head. “Oh fuck no, she’s lost her goddamn mind.” She stood, waving her arms to catch your attention. “Don’t,” she hissed, barely moving her lips.

But you were already standing.

The announcer’s voice bled into the air, “—and now, your starting five!”

You didn’t hear the cheers. Didn’t see the team running out. You only saw him. Riki, jogging onto the court, smiling easily, looking like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks unraveling.

He waved to the crowd, scanning briefly—just long enough for your eyes to catch. He froze. Blinked. His smile faltered for a second. Then returned, practiced and bright.

You unfolded the paper.

“Don’t you dare,” Yasmin whispered, gripping your arm so tightly her nails pressed crescents into your skin.

You shook her off. “He deserves this.”

Bella stood too, half-blocking you from view. “No, he doesn’t. Not like this. This is too fucking far!” But you didn’t even hear her. The mic was right there—abandoned on the sideline after the anthem. You could take three steps and it’d be in your hand. You could read the note, the one that started with ‘Three weeks ago, starting point guard, Riki Nishimura, had degraded me—’ It’d be over for him. You’d make sure of it.

And that’s when Yasmin, bless her, full-body tackled your arm and snatched the paper clean out of your hand. “You’re done,” she hissed, shaking her head. “This isn’t justice, this is suicide.”

“What—” you started, but then Bella’s voice cut through, low and warning. “He’s looking.”

And he was.

Riki had stopped dribbling during warmups, staring right at the three of you. His brows pulled together, confusion, worry. Then he started jogging toward you, calling your name.

The crowd noise dimmed into static in your ears.

He reached the sideline, cluelessly. “What’s going on?” Tilting his head as he raised his taped hand to brush your coils off your shoulder to toy with the ‘R’ pendant on the necklace he gave you. A habit, something he did as a means of soothing both you and him. “Everything okay?” Yasmin shook her head slightly. “This has gone entirely too far, dude.” She sniffled, dabbing her fallen tears in an effort to not ruin her makeup.

“You gotta tell him.” Bella said firmly. 

Riki looked around, scanning the arena for any cameras that were on him. “What? Tell me what?” He squinted, genuinely baffled—like he was trying to fit the scene into a scoreboard in his head. You stayed silent, your eyes fiery and skin crawling at the feeling of his touch now. Your eyes fell right to the microphone where you could do your final bidding. Eyes watering and heart heavy, you crumpled the paper in your fist as you avoided Riki’s gaze.

Bella exhaled, all impatience and exactness. “Can we do this somewhere where there aren’t cameras?” Her eyes fell on the guy before you three.  Riki’s expression hardened a little, glancing at the gigantic clock at the top of the stands. Twenty minutes til tip-off. Without another word, he nodded to the tunnel which led to the locker room. The only private area where he knew no one would be passing through. “Quickly.” He said lowly as he rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “Please.” You stayed planted where you were, your eyes glaring a hole into his. As if lasers would beam through if you tried hard enough. Yasmin grabbed you by the bicep, “come on.” She said shakily, which in any other case would’ve weighed you down with her. 

The tunnel smelled like old sweat and floor cleaner—half of the arena’s life lived in a stale chemical cloud. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, turning everyone’s skin a little too pale. The noise from the court faded to a distant roar; here it was only your voices and the scrape of sneakers against concrete. Then squeaking as you entered the empty locker room. Riki kept his jacket half off, breath shallow, eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to memorize which way the exits led. “Talk to me.”

You stayed silent, folding your arms to your chest as if it could keep your guts from spilling out.  “Hello? Did you hear him? He’s speaking to you—” Bella tapped your shoulder.

Riki interjected sharply, brows furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t fucking speak to her like that—”

“No! This shit has gone way off the rails and now she’s acting like a fucking baby. Speak up, I’m not coddling you anymore!” The girl insisted. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bella.” You snapped, “don’t try to sit here and ‘tough love’ me now when you know you’re the one that held my hand through this in the first place.” Turning to her as you jabbed her shoulder with your finger. 

Bella scoffed, “But I never told you to go this far! You—” “Why the fuck are we talking in code?! I have shit to do and y’all here playing!” Riki clapped his hands in urgency.

Yasmin blurted it out. “We heard you talking about her.” She huffed nervously.

Riki’s eyes flit to the side in confusion. “So? I talk about her and to her every single day.” “No.” You finally interjected, turning your attention to him as you were able to take your anger out. “When you stood in here and said to Maki that I was ‘just another hole to fill’ and how not whipped you are?” You squinted your eyes as your posture straightened. “That all girls are the same and how much play you’re gonna get—” You smiled bitterly at the memory as you spoke with your hands. “And how you’re just gonna keep ‘fucking around and winning? Huh?” You nodded. “Remember that, baby?”

Riki froze. Like someone had just yanked the oxygen straight out of his lungs. For a second, the world went completely soundless—even the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to cut out. His jaw twitched once, twice, before he let out a shaky exhale and blinked at you, eyes wide, almost boyish in disbelief.

“Wait—” he said hoarsely, “you heard that?”

You laughed, sharp and humorless. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. That it was just locker room talk, right?”

He ran a hand over his face, backing up until he hit the edge of a locker with a dull thud. His expression twisted — confusion, panic, then shame flickering like a glitch he couldn’t smooth out. “No, that’s not—fuck, that’s not what I meant. It was a—Maki was—”

“Maki was what, Riki?” Bella snapped. “A part of your stand-up routine? Or your echo chamber?” “Bella, stop,” he hissed, voice cracking under strain. He turned back to you, hands slightly raised like he was pleading his case to a judge who’d already heard the verdict. “It wasn’t about you like that. It was—God, it was a joke. I was trying to sound cool, and—”

Your eyes narrowed. “Cool?” The word landed like poison.

“You think degrading me makes you cool?”

Riki’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He was crumbling in real time—his composure, that stupid practiced charm, the performative calm he always wore when things got ugly. He looked twenty different kinds of small now. “Say it again,” you whispered, stepping closer, voice shaking not from weakness but from the sheer weight of it all. “Say it to my face this time. Say I’m just another hole to fill.”

Riki’s throat bobbed. “Don’t—”

“Say it!”

“I didn’t mean it!” he exploded, voice ricocheting off the walls. The sound of it startled even him. “I swear to God, I didn’t—” He stopped himself, chest heaving, eyes flicking to Bella, then Yasmin, before finally settling on you again. His voice dropped. “You think I’d ever mean that? About you?” You blinked, your vision blurring with the beginnings of tears you didn’t want to shed—not here, not in front of him. “I don’t give a fuck what you meant. You deserved everything I fucking did to you and more of it!”

“What…?” His voice cracked. “Wh–what did you do?”

Yasmin spoke up. “Can I interject…?” She stepped forward from the corner to stand beside Bella, who was letting her ponytail down as she felt her head starting to throb. “Riki…we decided to—”

“No.” You kindly shut Yasmin down. “I—neither of them had any involvement in anything—decided to pay you back. I poured out your juices. Loosened your protein tub. Unplugged your phone—everything weird that’s been happening to you for the last two weeks was me fucking with you.” Riki blinked once. Then again. Like maybe if he gave his brain enough time to reboot, it’d spit out a version of this scene that made sense.

“You—” he breathed out, the word shaky and small. “You what?” He stared at you—searching, scanning, trying to find some hint that you were joking. But your face didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even twitch. “Everything weird that’s been—” he stopped, eyes darting back and forth as the puzzle pieces rearranged in his head. “My shampoo, the alarms, the fucking—my protein—” His voice rose an octave, breaking off in disbelief. “The fish?!”

You blinked. “Okay, that one wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t do anything to your shampoo.” He laughed. But it wasn’t funny. It was breathless and sharp—half a gasp, half hysteria. “Oh my God,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my fucking God.”

Bella winced. Yasmin quietly muttered something under her breath that sounded like a prayer.

Riki dropped his hand and looked back at you, eyes glossy—not with tears, but something worse. Something that looked like betrayal and heartbreak all twisted together. “You made me think I was losing my mind,” he said quietly. “For weeks.” You crossed your arms, defensive now. “You made me feel worthless.”

“So you poisoned me?”

You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come.

“You unplugged my phone, you messed with my stuff, you—” he gestured wildly, like he couldn’t even pick which violation to name first. “You messed with my head, and for what? To even the score?”

“Don’t you dare make me the bad guy here,” you snapped, voice cracking on the edge of your fury. “You’re the one who said that shit about me.” “And I said I didn’t mean it!” he fired back, stepping closer. The sound of his voice filled the entire locker room—loud, raw, desperate. “You think I’m proud of that? You think I sleep easy knowing that came out of my mouth? I’ve been trying to figure out what I did to deserve all this—turns out, you were just—” He cut himself off, choking back whatever word was about to fall next.

“Just what?” you bit.

He stared at you. His throat bobbed. “Cruel.”

The word sliced clean through the air.

You flinched, but didn’t back down. “You talk about me like I’m replaceable and you think I’m cruel?”

“You tried to ruin me!”

“Oh, please,” you wave off. “You’d still be fine. You always land on your feet.”

Riki shook his head, eyes glazed. His eyes caught the folded loose leaf in your hand, gesturing to it. “What is that?” 

Without a second guess, you shoved it into his chest. Not even causing him to stumble but he snatched it. Opening it and doing his best to make it out beneath the crinkles.  And right then, was the angriest you’ve seen him up until this moment. The desperate, flabbergasted Riki that was before found new ground to stand on. His nostrils flared as he licked his bottom lip; fingers curling around the paper. “You were going to read this in front of people?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to—your silence was already too loud.

Riki’s laugh was low and humorless. “You were going to humiliate me.” He said it like he was testing the words out loud, like saying them would somehow make them less insane. “In front of my team? My coach? The entire nation, are you fucking crazy?”

“I was going to tell the truth,” you shot back, eyes glinting. “That’s all it was. The truth.”

“The truth?” He took a step closer, paper trembling in his fist. “No, no—you wanted revenge. You wanted blood, not closure.”

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse was slamming in your throat. “Don’t get poetic now, Riki. You said what you said.” “And I told you I didn’t mean it! How many times do I have to—” He held up the note like evidence in court. “This—this is you trying to destroy me because you’re hurt. You were really going to try to ruin my life’s work and career over this when you could’ve just fucking talked to me?! Or even dumped me?”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you called me just another hole to fill.”

He went still. The sound of sneakers squeaking from the court outside was a faint, haunting rhythm beneath the tension between you.

Riki lowered his head, voice dropping to something barely human. “You really hate me that much, huh?”

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly. “I just wanted you to feel small for once.”

He let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “Congratulations. You did it.” He held up the crumpled paper like it was a white flag—like you’d already won the war you started. “You’ve made me feel smaller than I ever have in my entire life.”

You swallowed, your anger flickering like a dying candle. “Good.” Riki stared at you for a long, long moment—jaw tight, eyes glassy, chest rising with restrained fury and heartbreak. Then, quietly, he tore the note in half. Once, twice, until the pieces fluttered from his hands like ash. “Hope it was worth it,” he muttered, voice shaking. And when he walked past you toward the locker room exit, he didn’t look back.

The girls followed in his direction with shaking of their heads. But were interrupted by your voice. “Where are you guys going?” They stopped, turning around. Yasmin’s eyes sparkled from the overhead lighting as tears misted her eyes. “We also have shit to do.”

You threw your hands up, “oh so now I’m the bad guy?” You laughed humorlessly, “you guys—” “We didn’t tell you to do anything!” Bella waved her finger. “Yas was against this from the beginning. I said I was just gonna support you. We support each other! Right, wrong, or indifferent. But I didn’t think you would lose yourself like this?” She gestured to your frame. “I mean who even are you anymore?”

“I’m me. I’m still me, guys—” You stepped forward with your voice shaking. Smile vanished as you swallowed what seemed to be a knot of nervousness. “C’mon…don’t turn your backs on me too…” Yasmin sniffled, “if we did then we wouldn’t have saved you just now. This isn’t my best friend,” Yasmin whispered, shaking her head. Her voice cracked mid-sentence, soft but sharp enough to land. “My best friend doesn’t do shit like this.”

You froze. “Yas—”

“No,” she said, stepping back a little. Rubbing her temples as frustrated tears streaking down her cheeks. “You’re not even listening to yourself anymore.” Bella exhaled, crossing her arms. “You became the thing you swore you hated. You’re standing here, trying to justify ruining someone’s life just because he bruised your ego. That’s not love. That’s obsession.”

Your throat closed up. “You think I wanted to turn into this?”

Bella didn’t answer right away—she just blinked at you, disappointed. “No. I think you got hurt and didn’t know where to put it. But you don’t get to burn down someone else’s peace to feel better about your pain.” The silence that followed was unbearable. Only the muffled sound of the crowd bleeding in from the court—cheers, drums, whistles—made the moment real again.

Yasmin took a shaky breath, voice quiet. “You can still fix this. Maybe not with him, but with yourself.” You stared at them, every word hitting like shrapnel, and for the first time since the whole spiral began—you didn’t have anything to say. The weight of what you’d done, what almost happened, started to settle in your stomach like lead.

Bella grabbed Yasmin’s hand. “We’re going to go. You should go get some rest.” You watched them walk away through the tunnel lights, the sound of the game roaring back to life behind them. You stood there, still holding the blanket of your own rage and regret—realizing it was never warmth at all. And the walk back to your dorm was a cold one.

—

For three days, you disappeared. The campus kept spinning without you—the chatter of students, the clatter of cafeteria trays, the hum of a world that refused to pause—but your room stayed still. Curtains drawn, phone facedown, mind circling the same moment over and over until it felt like static. The guilt wasn’t sharp anymore; it was heavy, dragging. Every notification with his name felt like another bruise you didn’t remember getting.

Bella and Yasmin tried to reach you—knocks at the door, texts, calls—but nothing stuck. Riki was radio silent; as expected. On the fourth day, you sat up and climbed off your creaky twin XL. You walked up to your desk and removed the pillowcase covering it and for the first time in days, you were able to stomach looking at yourself. Your reflection in the dark monitor felt like a stranger. Eyes swollen, lips cracked from lack of hydration, skin dry and textured. And immediately you put your head down. Holding your stomach as you wept into yourself. It came out of you like a flood you’d been holding back too long—all the anger, the shame, the grief. You tried to breathe, but it only made the sobs louder. You pressed a hand to your mouth as if you could stuff it all back down, but it was useless. You cried until your ribs hurt, until your knees gave out and you sank onto the floor, arms wrapped around yourself like you were the only thing keeping from coming undone completely. “Oh God—” You held your chest as you heaved. “What have I done?”

—

By the fifth day, the silence became unbearable. You couldn’t stand the sound of your own thoughts anymore—the echoes of Riki’s voice, the look on Bella’s face, the way Yasmin’s eyes had glistened before she walked away. So for the first time in almost a week, you took positive first steps. You showered, scrubbing yourself to the point where you swore your skin was about to peel off. Brush your teeth, following your meticulous oral care routine. And you put on lotion, perfume, did your hair and finally…you felt you were halfway worth looking at again.

—

The campus air touched differently after a self-imposed exile—too bright, too loud, like the world had the audacity to move on. You found Bella and Yasmin outside on the quad, sprawled on the grass with open laptops and snacks, their laughter cutting short the second they saw you.

“Hey,” you said softly, voice half-stuck in your throat.

Bella shut her laptop, sitting up. Yasmin didn’t say anything yet—just watched you with that mix of worry and quiet anger that made you feel twelve years old again. “I know,” you started, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was a dick. To both of you. And you didn’t deserve that.” You looked between them, heart pounding. “You were just trying to look out for me, and I…I took it way too far. I wanted to hurt him so bad that I forgot who I was. And who you guys were to me. I’m sorry. But I just wanted to say thank you for gathering me before I inevitably got worse.”

Neither spoke for a beat. Then Bella sighed, resting her chin on her knee. “Yeah, you were a dick,” she said flatly, but there was the ghost of a smile there. Yasmin exhaled, eyes softening. “We were worried sick. You don’t just vanish like that, dude. We thought you—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Like at least an ‘I’m okay’ text would’ve been enough. Just…” She sighed, “don’t do that again.”

You nodded quickly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “I won’t. I swear.” Bella patted the spot beside her. “Good. Then sit your dramatic ass down and eat something. We made sandwiches.”

Tears finally came down as you smiled. Sitting down between them as you hugged them to you. Both their heads on your shoulders as they squeezed you. “Are you guys still mad at me?”  “Oh definitely,” Yasmin smiled as she nuzzled your shoulder. “You have some serious making up to do.” Huffing as she leaned up and let go.

You looked down at the blanket and your crossed legs, “Can I start by saying you were right and that you owe me an ‘I told you so?’” To which that elicited laughs from both girls on either side of you.  “Forgiven!” Yasmin giggled as she clapped her hands excitedly. Like she wasn’t twenty but a little kid. And as you sat between them, the tension eased, the world didn’t feel quite as tilted anymore.

—

You were mid-laugh when it happened—Bella had just said something snarky about the “post-breakdown glow” you apparently had going on. And for a moment, things felt easy again. Like it always had with these two. The three of you were walking up the stone path toward the dining hall, the smell of pizza and fryer oil already drifting through the air, when a familiar voice froze you in your tracks.

“Hey!” He was coming down the opposite side of the path, still in his team jacket, backpack slung over his shoulders, hair a little messy like he’d just showered. His teammates had already gone ahead, but he stopped the moment he saw you.

Bella glanced between you two and sighed under her breath. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Yep,” Yasmin muttered. “Definitely our cue.”

They shared a look before Bella patted your arm. “We’ll, uh…grab our table. Take your time.”

And just like that, they slipped inside the dining hall, leaving you and Riki alone under the faint hum of campus noise.

For a second, neither of you spoke. You just stared at him, at how tired he looked—eyes a little red, hands balled up as he adjusted his sleeves.

“You look alive,” he said finally, a small half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Barely,” you replied, managing a smirk. “You?”

He shrugged. “Playing like I’m mad at the whole planet, but we’re winning, so…guess that counts for something.”

You nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the ground. “Riki, I—”

He shook his head before you could continue. “Don’t. It’s done.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not mad anymore. I mean, I was. But now…I get it.”

You searched his face for bitterness and found none—just exhaustion, and something softer hiding under it. “It’s not an excuse.” Shaking your head, you pulled your hoodie sleeves over your hands as you balled your fists. “You hurt me and instead of being a good, mature girlfriend…I went to the extreme. I’m so sorry, Riki.” “I deserved it, mama.” He stepped closer, whispering as he reached his hands up to frame your face—not touch it. “What I said was inexcusable. Absolutely repulsive and inappropriate and no one should speak about a person—especially their girlfriend—like that. I’m sorry too.”

“I guess neither of us are perfect.” You sighed, as you gently brought his hands back down. The radiating warmth leaving your cheeks and replacing it with the evening chill.

His mouth curved, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I think we both kinda nuked the moral high ground.”

A weak laugh slipped out of you. “That’s one way to put it.” For a moment, it was quiet—just the wind cutting through the trees and the sound of students laughing somewhere across the quad. You stared at the space between your sneakers, the weight of everything that happened hanging between you.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” you said softly. “Even after all that.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I couldn’t even if I tried.”

That made you look up. His gaze was steady, not pleading, just…honest. The kind of look that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to name yet. “Did you mean any of it? Like when you said you loved me?” His eyes searched yours, “I’m sorry, it’s just been driving me crazy and I need to know.” The look in his eyes was layered in desperation and heartbreak. Only half of what you encountered in the locker room that day. “Please. For my own sanity—” “I did.” You sniffled, dabbing your eyes with your sleeve to prevent tears from coming out. “It…”

Riki pulled you to a small bench, tucked away from possible prying eyes as this was becoming an intimate moment. The first one in what seemed like forever. He wiped the bench with his hands, getting any debris—branches, dirt, cigarette ashes—off and away. “It was that I loved you so much that I did what I did.” You sat down as he did beside you. “When I heard you saying those things about me, it…it just—a switch just flipped in my brain. Like…everything that I thought about you beforehand was just confirmed. That my parents were right…”

Riki’s eyes widened a bit, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach as he gulped. “You—your parents?” You nodded, “they always said not to date athletes. That they’d either cheat, lie, or dog you. Maybe all three.” Fiddling with your manicured nails, clicking them slightly. “In a way, me getting revenge just felt like I was doing every single person that was wronged by every athlete, right. But I got greedy. Selfish. And really, I could’ve just spoken to you about it.” Riki leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground like it might offer him a manual on how to handle this conversation. “I wish you did,” he said quietly. “I would’ve told you the truth. That I was talking out of my ass, trying to look tough in front of the guys because I was scared of how much I actually loved you. I mean I’ve never felt like this before, y’know?”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s not an excuse.”

“I know,” he said, glancing at you. “But it’s the truth. I said those things because I thought if I made it sound like I didn’t care, then they’d just get off my dick about it. In actuality, I was never thinking about sex with you.”

You shot him a look.

He smiled, “okay, I was.” Laughing as you did, but he leaned up. “But it wasn’t at the front of my mind. I didn’t lead every interaction with you with the expectation that you’d let me have any.” The words hung between you like fog, dense and heavy. You looked up at him then, and the sharpness you’d carried for weeks softened. He looked older somehow. Not in a bad way—just like he’d been through something real. “But even with the four months that we were together, I didn’t even want to bring it up because I didn’t want to scare you.”

“The idea of sex with you didn’t scare me, Riki. But the fact that when I thought I could trust you to keep certain things of our relationship private, you fell through. And disrespected me at that.” You went on. “Because how did Maki even know that we hadn’t done anything? Were these things regular conversations and I just happened to catch one?” Riki’s jaw tightened, his knee bouncing slightly. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that. I swear, I didn’t go around talking about our business. Maki was being an asshole that day, asking questions, making jokes and assumptions, and I—” He paused, running a hand over his face like he could erase what came next. “I took the bait. I wanted to sound cool. Like I wasn’t some lovesick loser.” You stared at him, the memory of that locker room replaying in your mind like a cruel film reel. “So you threw me under the bus to impress him?” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, guilt written across every line of his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And the second it left my mouth, I wanted to take it back. It was just talk. It was just…I don’t know.”

You looked away, lips pressing together. The bench between you suddenly felt like a chasm. “I really thought you were different, Riki,” you said softly. “You made me believe it.” He winced like the words cut him. “I am different. Or at least I was trying to be. I just—” He exhaled, frustrated with himself. “I didn’t think about how much weight my words had. I didn’t think about how much they’d hurt you if you heard them. I was trying to protect my ego instead of the one person I actually gave a shit about.” The silence after that was long and brittle. You could hear students laughing in the distance, the scrape of skateboard wheels against pavement. Ordinary sounds in a world that felt anything but ordinary right now. And it only left one question: “So what now?”

Riki shook his head firmly, turning to you. “Look I love you. Still—”

You sighed, closing your eyes in distress but he insisted. “No, no, no. Just listen to me.” He hesitantly reached for your hands. “I know we both have work to do. But I don’t want anybody else. And I mean that. You’re everything to me and even after the bullshit and what you were going to do…I still look at you the same.” You stared at him, the ache in your chest twisting into something you couldn’t name. “You shouldn’t,” you said softly. “You should look at me differently.”

He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t. I’ve tried.”

You wanted to laugh, or scream, or both. Instead, you just looked down at your intertwined hands—his fingers trembling slightly against yours. “Please don’t romanticize it, Riki. That was the ugliest I’ve seen myself in…ever. And I don’t know if I wanna be with someone that brings that out of me.” “But I do,” he smiled softly. “I want to be with someone that drives me crazy. That makes me feel every possible human emotion and that person was you.” He brought your hands to his lips to kiss them, like he always used to. “This is going to be what you want at the end of the day. But I won’t stop fighting for you. When I said I loved you forever, I meant it. As a friend, a lover. Anything. I just wanna be in your life.” For a split second, you could almost feel your heart stop. The rawest you’d ever seen Riki was in this moment—before you—as he practically begged to be in your world. A person who’s so used to the inverse. And he didn’t stop. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve not been able to get you off my mind. And I don’t wanna forget that feeling. Call me obsessed, desperate. But even then, I don’t care,” he finished, voice breaking slightly. “Because I’d rather be desperate for you than indifferent to anyone else.”

You swallowed hard, blinking fast. His eyes were glassy now, full of something that looked too much like the boy you fell for—reckless, sincere, and way too intense for his own good. “Riki…” “I know,” he said, shaking his head quickly, cutting you off before you could form the words. “You don’t have to say it. I just needed you to know. Even if you never look at me the same again, even if you find someone who actually deserves you—I needed to say it out loud once.”

You felt the world slow down around you, the hum of the dining hall muffling into static. His confession sat between you, too heavy to move around and too fragile to touch. “I think…I think it’s best that we be friends. For now…” He nodded immediately, “anything you want—wait, you said for now?” He tried to hide the way his lips curved, but failed.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling a shaky laugh. “Don’t push it.” And then, almost without thinking, you scooted forward. He met you halfway, arms slipping around your waist like muscle memory. You pressed your face into his shoulder, breathing him in—the faint trace of detergent, cologne, and something you couldn’t name but still remembered.

It wasn’t a reconciliation. It wasn’t a promise. It was just…quiet understanding. He melted into your arms, remembering the warmth he once felt there as it hadn’t ever gone away. Rubbing your back as the both of you fell into the comfort of each other again. “I won’t…I promise.” He said softly as he sniffled. You felt his breath hitch against your neck, the sound muffled but raw. His arms tightened just a little, like he was afraid that if he let go too soon, the moment would vanish. You rubbed slow circles into his back, grounding him, grounding yourself.

“I know,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes red but steady. “I just don’t ever want you to think I didn’t care,” he said quietly. “Not for a single second.”

You smiled faintly, brushing your thumb over the corner of his hand where it still held onto you. “I never did,” you admitted. “But time will tell.” For a moment, neither of you moved—just stayed there, breathing the same air, hearts syncing in that familiar rhythm you both tried so hard to forget. And when you finally stepped apart, it wasn’t out of anger or regret. It was because you both knew what this was.

Something that wasn’t over. Just paused.

— epilogue!

The semester was coming to an end and things were looking up! Spring was underway, you traded in your hoodies for tube tops and life wasn’t as hard as it was a month ago. Bella and Yasmin are the same: reliable, solid, harassing—typical. As for Riki…

You and him had stayed true to the “friends for now” thing…with a few cracks around the edges. You were doing pretty well with the whole “platonic equilibrium” mindset. Riki, though…was doing his best, which—coming from him—meant trying really hard not to accidentally flirt every five minutes. There was always a soft awkwardness in the air whenever he was near, a kind of gentle hesitation that felt new. Like he was relearning how to exist around you without crossing lines he used to dive over headfirst. Whenever you ran into him around campus, he’d light up—just a little, almost like he wished he didn’t. He’d start to reach for your hand out of habit, stopping mid-motion with a small, embarrassed laugh. Sometimes he’d call you “baby” without thinking, freeze like he’d just triggered a bomb, and mumble a panicked “sorry.” It was…cute. Annoyingly cute.

But here’s the thing—he didn’t push. Not once. He didn’t corner you, didn’t force conversations, didn’t try to speedrun your healing. He gave you space without disappearing, presence without pressure. It was the most mature thing you’d ever seen him do, and honestly? Kinda hotter than when he was your actual boyfriend. Slowly, the tension stopped feeling sharp and started feeling warm. The kind you notice on slow walks across campus or when you catch him staring from across a study lounge. The kind that makes your stomach dip but not in a painful way anymore.

He was still your Riki—loud, unserious, overwhelmingly athletic, always carrying a million and one snacks in his bag. But this version of him was steadier. Softer. Careful with you in ways he never had to think about before. Spring was blooming, and so were you. And somewhere in the mess of new beginnings, slow healing, and accidental almost-romantic moments…you could feel it.

You and Riki weren’t done. Not even close.

riki: hey girlieee

you: hi riki lmao

riki: rq, what are ur thoughts on selena gomez?

you: random?? LMAOO ??? but 10/10 no notes. she’s mother. omg i love her blushes too

riki: she sells makeup??

you: yeah…everyone knows that

riki: literally why would i know that but thanks, noted.

you: why tho? what happened?

riki: <3

you: …? that’s not an answer…?

riki: <33

you: ok

Riki left you on read after that last “ok,” which was suspicious behavior for him. Usually he double-texted entirely too often. But whatever—maybe he was in the gym…benching a car or some shit.

Two weeks rolled by in this weird limbo where he acted normal but also not normal. A week ago he’d shown up outside your lecture hall just to hand you a juice box because, quote, “You always look dehydrated after class.” Three days ago, he’d pretended to trip just so you’d laugh. Yesterday he’d sat next to you in the library, headphones in, sharing a pack of gummies and tapping your knee every time he thought of something funny. And you didn’t miss the shift in him—this boy was planning something. You could practically hear the cartoon gears grinding in that brain of his.

Then Friday came. A warm, breezy, stupidly pretty spring evening. You were chilling in your dorm, headphones in one ear as you reviewed for your microeconomics final. And that’s when you heard it.

“It’s been said and done…Every beautiful thought’s been already sung…”

And comedically, your head popped up. Brows furrowed as you turned your head to get a grip on the muffled, crackled noise coming from the outside. But you just figured it was the student union having one of their last hurrah’s before the year was finished and y’all were right back in three months.

“And I guess right now, here’s another one…So your melody will play on and on…With the rest of them…”

Your phone buzzed.

pretty princess: girl look tf out ur window rn.

You blinked at the notification, confusion already tugging at your face. Yasmin never texted like that unless something was either (A) horrifying or (B) gobsmacking. There was never an in-between with her. You shoved your chair back, nearly tripping over your backpack as you crossed the room. You pulled the blinds open—

And your stomach dropped to your ass.

Because there he was.

Riki. On the quad. Holding an actual boombox over his head like he was auditioning for an eighties rom-com.

The thing was massive, probably older than both of you, and blasting Selena Gomez’s “Love You Like a Love Song” at a volume that was definitely violating at least six campus rules. Students were recording him but he didn’t care. He spotted you instantly.

That stupid, boyish, heart-squeezing grin lit up his whole face the second your eyes met. He lifted the boombox even higher—like his arms weren’t already shaking—and he yelled up at your window: “HI!”

Just “hi.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, partially to smother your gasp and partially to keep from laughing out loud like someone who lost any and all gumption. Heat crawled up your neck. “No he didn’t,” you whispered.

Oh, but he did. And he wasn’t stopping.

People started chanting his name—half because they loved drama and half because the acoustics were terrible and the song was starting to echo off the buildings like some kind of chaotic love anthem.

You opened the window. “RIKI!”

He perked up like a golden retriever hearing treats shake. “YEAH?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“I’M—” He paused, laughing. “I’M TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC BUT THIS THING IS REALLY HEAVY! AND LOUD!”

You nearly melted on the spot. Your brain was soup. Your heart? Gone.

He lowered the boombox slightly—possibly because his arms were probably about to give out—and yelled, “COME DOWN! PLEASE! I DON’T WANNA DROP THIS AND DIE. THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING.” He wasn’t struggling, his arms weren’t trembling. He wasn’t out of breath. 

You squinted down at him, realization hitting you like a brick made of pure annoyance and affection. “Riki…are you faking struggling right now?”

He flashed you a guilty little half-smile, shrugging with one shoulder while still holding the boombox like it weighed absolutely nothing. “Uh…maybe. For dramatic effect. Gotta sell the moment, y’know?”

You groaned into your hands. “Oh my god.”

He adjusted his grip again—effortless, casual, absolutely not dying as previously advertised—and yelled, “C’MON! DON’T MAKE ME LOOK STUPID IN FRONT OF LIKE—” he glanced around, “—WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE!”

You rolled your eyes so hard you saw last semester. But you threw on your hoodie, shoved your feet into whatever shoes were closest, and bolted for the stairs.

By the time you reached the quad, people were still filming, still chanting his name, still acting like they were witnessing a Hallmark movie. Riki stood there proudly, boombox now resting against his shoulder as the chorus blasted:

“I-I-I love you like a love song, baby…”

He grinned the second he saw you and the crowd dissipated as they saw him put the boombox down to the grass and lower the music. “Hi…”

“Hi?” You laughed as you reached him. “What in the world is this?” You gestured to the boombox now at your feet.

“A…boombox—”

“I know what a boombox is, Riki!” You hold your hands up. “I mean…why?” You said softly. 

He sighed. “Okay, look. I know you’ve said sorry before. And I did too. But I was saying it like…someone who wanted to fix a scratch, not someone that had the capability of ruining an entire relationship with words.” He frowned slightly as he reached out for your hands. Inhaling before he mustered up the courage to grasp them. “You don’t make it easy for me. You don’t worship me. You don’t pretend I’m a big deal. You roll your eyes and tell me when I’m being a dick—and that’s the first time in a long time I’ve actually had to listen.” He went on.

“When we stopped talking, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you liked me for half a second, I didn’t know what to do with it. When you loved me…I felt like I was caught with my pants down.” The breeze blew at his dark locks, brushing his silky hair just right as the perfectly timed sunset kissed his tan skin. “You said once that you don’t understand why people lose their minds over athletes. I get it now. I’m the guy who people cheer for and I still don’t get it either. But when you look at me, it’s not because I made a basket—it’s because you actually see me. And I don’t want to lose that. And…” He huffed, eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve gone these last few months with an attempt to change everything about myself. But the one thing that I couldn’t seem to shake is that I really am selfish. Only when it comes to you.” He shakes his head as his lips quivered. “I love you, I kiss the ground you walk on and I can’t shake that. I just wanna be around you. All the time and it eats at me every waking moment that I fucked this up. That the idea of you being with someone else makes me irrationally angry. Seeing another guy even look your way makes me—and I’m so sorry. It’s so unfair.”

You felt something in your chest pull tight—like every word he spoke tugged a different thread you’d been trying so hard to knot back together. “Riki…” you whispered, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, eyes shining in that way that always made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something huge.

“I know it’s not healthy. I know I shouldn’t think like that,” he said, voice cracking as he blinked fast. “But I can’t help it. I’ve tried to get over you. I’ve tried to be chill, to be normal, to be the guy who just ‘moves on.’ I can’t. I can’t pretend I don’t still look for you every time I walk across campus or step into the dining hall or hear your stupid laugh echo in my apartment when I look back at old videos of us.”

You let out a quiet breath—a little shaky, a little overwhelmed. “And I know it sucks,” he added, softer now. “I know it’s messy. I know it’s not fair to you. But I’m standing here, blasting Selena Gomez like a psychopath, because I needed you to know that I love you in a way that makes me spend two hundred dollars on boomboxes. Getting scammed for old CDs online to look for them to put in the boombox.” He smiled, laughing softly. “And spending almost four hundred dollars on makeup because I couldn’t figure out which one you liked so I bought them all!” He bent down to open his backpack to pull out a black and white striped Sephora bag to hand it to you. Filled to the brim, all thirteen blushes. Simply because you mentioned liking it once.

You stared at the bag. Then at him. Then back at the bag—because there was no way. No way.

“Riki…” Your voice cracked.

He held both hands up like he was surrendering to the police. “I know. I know. It’s crazy. Please—”

You almost laughed. Almost. Riki rolled his eyes but stayed locked on you—smiling regretfully. “I’m not saying any of this to make you feel guilty. I’m saying it because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care when I care so much it makes me do…this.” He gestured around helplessly, as if the chaos wasn’t literally his own fault. “I’m a mess.” You swallowed. Hard. “Why now?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer to the dorm entrance, “I realized something that night in the locker room.”

Your breath hitched. “That I would rather embarrass myself in front of everyone. Teammates, coaches, sports analysts, scouts—than let you think you weren’t worth fighting for. And you can nuke my protein and rig my alarms—”

You cut him off with a kiss. For half a second, he froze—eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between oh my god and ‘no way no way no way.’ Then he melted. Like actually melted. His shoulders dropped, his hands hovered in the air like he was terrified to touch you, and then very, very gently, they settled on your waist as you dropped the bag. Letting it thud into the grass.

He kissed you back like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally got oxygen. Pulling you into him as he gently cradled your head, tilting his own to deepen the kiss. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, the kind that said finally with every exhale. His fingers threaded into your hair like he’d been memorizing the motion in his head for weeks, rehearsing it in private like some lovesick maniac. He kissed you again—slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to make sure you understood exactly how long he’d been waiting for this. His thumb swept the hinge of your jaw, gentle, reverent, like he was scared you’d disappear if he touched too roughly.

You pulled back just an inch, just enough to breathe, and he chased you a little—just a tiny lean forward, like he hadn’t meant to lose contact. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing too hard for a kiss that lasted maybe ten seconds.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. He cupped your cheek, brushing your skin with the back of his fingers like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I’m so in love with you,” he said—quiet, shaky, honest in a way that punched you right in the throat.

Your heart stuttered. “I love you too, Riki.” Leaning in to hug him tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oh…” He exhaled in relief as he picked you up and spun you around. “I missed you, baby. Oh I missed my baby so much!”

Your laugh broke against his shoulder, breathless and warm, and he clutched you like he was afraid gravity might snatch you away again. His hands slid under your thighs automatically, lifting you like you weighed nothing, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck with this completely unhinged, lovesick groan. “I missed you so much,” he repeated, voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea—oh my god. I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m dizzy. Is this normal? Am I dying?”

You snorted. “Put me down, idiot.”

“No,” he said immediately, hugging you even tighter, rocking you side to side like a toddler with their favorite plush. “Absolutely not. You said you love me. That means you’re legally my emotional support human now.”

“Riki…”

“Shh,” he whispered dramatically, pressing an overly loud kiss to your cheek. “Let me have this.” Riki didn’t care. Zero shame. Negative shame even. He finally set you down but kept your waist locked in his hands like he didn’t trust reality to keep you there. He leaned back to look at you properly—eyes bright, hair messy from the wind, chest rising like he’d sprinted here from three counties over. “You love me,” he whispered again, like he was tasting the words, like they were cotton candy on his tongue. “Say it one more time.”

You raised a brow. “Riki—”

“Please,” he said, already smiling like he knew he was ridiculous and didn’t care. “Just one more. I need to hear it clearly, I’ve been hearing nothing but this fucked up speaker for the last hour.”

Your cheeks warmed as you whispered, “I love you, Riki.”

He shut his eyes like the words physically hit him. Head back, hand over his heart, dramatic and sincere at the same time. “Oh yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. I feel like I just did ten lines. I’m never messing this up again.” Then, with a soft grin creeping up his face, he added: “Now c’mon, baby. Let’s go turn off my damn boombox before I get fined again.” You bent down to grab your Sephora bag and his backpack. Him with the boombox as he went two tracks over to put on ‘Who Says.’ You both laughed as you sang, “I wouldn’t wanna be anybody else!” 

He twirled you with his hand as you both walked into the direction of his apartment. “You know my favorite Selena song is ‘Naturally.’ For future reference.”

Riki laughed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. “I’ll add that to the wedding playlist.”

“Woah, woah—”

He sang. “You wouldn’t wanna be a WAG?” 

it started with the mess.

“seriously?” you had scoffed one evening, walking into the gym after the basketball team’s practice, only to find discarded water bottles, sweaty towels, and even an empty sports drink bottle rolling across the floor like a sad little tumbleweed.

the volleyball team had practice right after, and nothing pissed you off more than stepping onto a court that looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

so, like any responsible captain, you took it upon yourself to find the root of the problem. and that root had a name: myung jaehyun.

“hey, jaehyun, clean up your team’s mess next time,” you had called out after one of your shared gym sessions.

jaehyun, who was in the middle of chugging a bottle of water, raised a brow at you. “our mess?”

“yes, yours.” you gestured to the abandoned pile of trash near the bench. “you leave the place looking like a hurricane hit.”

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged. “not my fault you’re allergic to a little dirt.”

“not my fault you guys are allergic to basic hygiene.”

leehan, who had been dribbling a basketball nearby, snorted. “dude, she’s got a point.”

“whose side are you on?” jaehyun shot him a glare before turning back to you. “we don’t even leave that much of a mess.”

you let out a short laugh, stepping forward and kicking an empty bottle toward him. it rolled to a stop right by his foot. “oh yeah? then whose bottle is this?”

sungho, who had just been passing by, took one look at the scene and immediately pointed at jaehyun. “definitely his.”

jaehyun gave him a betrayed look. “are you serious?”

“i mean, statistically speaking, it’s more likely to be yours than mine,” sungho said with a lazy shrug. “i actually clean up after myself.”

“that’s a lie and you know it.”

“okay, but do i leave sports drink graveyards on the court? no.”

you crossed your arms and smirked. “see? even your own team thinks you’re the problem.”

jaehyun groaned, bending down to pick up the bottle before lazily tossing it into the trash can. “there. happy now?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned. “now do that, but every time.”

from then on, it became an ongoing battle. jaehyun’s team kept leaving behind their junk, and your team kept glaring at them from across the gym. you never actually fought, not really, but there was an unspoken war between the two of you—one built entirely on glares, sarcastic remarks, and aggressively wiping down volleyballs while jaehyun walked past you like he owned the place.

one time, after another particularly messy practice, you had stormed into the basketball team’s locker room, ignoring the immediate groans and complaints from the players inside.

“again?” you huffed, pointing toward the gym doors. “why do i have to keep reminding you guys to pick up after yourselves?”

leehan, who was in the middle of changing into a fresh jersey, blinked at you. “damn, i thought we locked the door.”

“she probably kicked it open,” riwoo muttered, adjusting his towel around his neck.

jaehyun, who was seated on the bench, barely looked up as he tied his shoelaces. “maybe if your team spent less time complaining and more time training, you’d actually win more games.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he finally glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes. “just saying.”

taesan whistled lowly. “oh, you’re dead.”

woonhak patted jaehyun’s shoulder like he was saying his final goodbyes. “it was nice knowing you, man.”

you took a deep breath, shaking your head as you turned on your heel. “you know what? forget it. next time i see even one of your bottles on that floor, i’m chucking it at your head.”

“looking forward to it,” jaehyun called after you, clearly amused.

god, you hated him.

as if the universe wasn’t already laughing at you, things got even worse when your teams had to start training together.

your school had decided that since both the basketball and volleyball teams shared the same gym, you might as well train under the same program for conditioning sessions. this meant early morning drills, weight training, and endurance exercises—together.

it was hell.

not because the training was hard (you could handle that), but because it meant spending more time around him.

the first morning session was already off to a bad start.

“alright, everyone, pair up,” the coach announced. “we’ll be doing partner drills for today’s endurance training.”

immediately, you turned to find one of your teammates, but before you could move, a familiar presence slid up beside you.

“guess we’re stuck together,” jaehyun said, his voice way too chipper for someone who just ran two miles as a warm-up.

you scowled. “who says?”

he gestured around. sure enough, all the pairs had already been formed, leaving you and jaehyun as the only ones unpaired.

“unless you want to run laps alone, i’d say this is fate,” he added, smirking.

you groaned. “curse.”

the drill was simple—one person would hold a plank while the other jumped over them repeatedly. then, you’d switch. simple in theory. infuriating in practice.

you started first, dropping into a plank position while jaehyun jumped over you. the first few were fine. but by the fifth jump, you were sure he was messing with you.

“are you—” you gritted out, arms burning from holding yourself up, “—doing this on purpose?”

jaehyun landed smoothly before hopping over you again. “doing what?”

“jumping so damn slow.”

“you should be thanking me. i’m giving you more time to work on your arm strength.”

you clenched your jaw. “i swear to god—”

“switch!” the coach called.

you got up, shaking out your arms before shooting jaehyun a glare. “watch how it’s actually done.”

he smirked, lowering himself into a plank. “looking forward to it.”

you took a step back, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leapt.

you might’ve landed a little too close to his back.

“jesus—are you trying to kill me?” jaehyun yelped, bracing himself.

“oops,” you said, not looking the least bit sorry.

from then on, training together became a battle of who could annoy the other more.

— 

but the worst part? meal times.

since both teams had the same conditioning schedule, the coaches thought it would be a great idea for you all to eat together in the dining hall. something about team unity and bonding.

you called it suffering.

because every single meal, without fail, jaehyun would find a way to sit across from you.

like today.

“morning, partner.”

you didn’t even look up from your tray of eggs and rice. “go away.”

“nah, i like it here.”

you stabbed at your food aggressively. “why are you like this?”

“like what?” he asked, reaching over to steal a piece of your egg with his fork.

you smacked his hand away. “like that!”

leehan, seated next to jaehyun, chuckled. “dude, one day she’s gonna actually throw hands.”

“and i’ll be ready,” jaehyun said, grinning at you.

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your food, determined to ignore him. but then—

clink.

you glanced up. jaehyun had casually placed his sports drink on your side of the table.

you frowned. “what?”

he smirked. “just marking my territory.”

sungho nearly choked on his juice. “bro, that sounds so wrong.”

taesan snickered. “he means his half of the table.”

you glared. “i hate you all.”

━

and then there was the winking.

the first time he did it, you thought it was an accident.

the second time, you realized it definitely wasn’t.

but by the fifth time? you were convinced he was just doing it to piss you off.

during games, during practice, even in the hallways—jaehyun had made it his personal mission to wink at you whenever he got the chance.

like during one of their practice matches.

you had been forced to stay behind in the gym, waiting for your team’s turn. so, unfortunately, you had a front-row seat to watching jaehyunshow off.

you sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching as jaehyun dribbled past a defender with ridiculous ease. he moved with that effortless confidence, quick on his feet, spinning past his opponent before driving straight to the basket.

the ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net. his teammates erupted into cheers.

jaehyun turned, scanning the gym, and then—

wink.

you scowled immediately. “oh, for fuck’s sake.”

your teammate, yuna, who was sitting beside you, snorted. “what is his problem?”

“he is the problem,” you muttered, gripping your water bottle with unnecessary force.

yuna hummed, clearly entertained. “you know, for someone who ‘hates’ him, you sure do pay a lot of attention.”

“i have to! someone needs to keep his ego in check.”

as if to prove your point, jaehyun jogged back to his side of the court, smug as ever, and made direct eye contact with you again.

you knew what was coming.

another wink.

you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back. “i hate him.”

woonhak, who had overheard from the bench, grinned. “that’s funny, ‘cause he sure loves pissing you off.”

you shot him a glare. “gee, really? hadn’t noticed.”

━

the winking didn’t stop. if anything, it got worse.

during practice, in the dining hall, even when you passed him in the hallways—he somehow found a way to send you that stupid, infuriating wink.

like today, after your volleyball practice.

you had just finished a brutal set of drills, sweat dripping down your back, when you spotted the basketball team lingering near the entrance. they must’ve been waiting for their turn in the gym.

and, of course, jaehyun was right at the front.

you barely spared him a glance as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, but that didn’t stop him.

“looking good, captain,” he called out.

you narrowed your eyes. “shut up, jaehyun.”

he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before winking.

you swore you saw red.

leehan, standing beside him, sighed. “dude, what if she actually kills you?”

“nah,” jaehyun said, grinning, “i think she’d miss me too much.”

you threw your towel at his face.

━

but as much as you hated to admit it, life was never boring with jaehyun around.

even when the two of you were forced into situations that made you want to rip your hair out—like the latest disaster your biology professor had cooked up.

the day had started out normal enough. until you got your test results back.

you stared at the glaring red F on your biology test, feeling your soul leave your body.

beside you, jaehyun whistled, holding up his own paper with an identical F. “ouch.”

you turned to glare at him. “why are you failing?”

he shrugged. “dunno. wasn’t paying attention.”

“of course you weren’t.”

before you could spiral into a full-blown academic crisis, your professor cleared his throat, looking way too pleased for someone who had just failed half the class.

“since many of you didn’t do well on the test,” he began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “i’ve decided to give you all an opportunity to redeem yourselves.”

murmurs filled the classroom. you remained suspicious.

“you will be given a partner—someone who also failed.”

you immediately got a bad feeling.

“together, you will complete an assignment on responsibility and care. an experiment, if you will.”

you glanced at jaehyun, who looked just as confused.

the professor smiled. “for the next week, you will take care of an egg.”

silence.

then—

“a what.”

the professor clasped his hands together. “an egg! consider it a simulation of caring for a delicate, fragile life. you must protect it at all costs and document your progress. and, of course, your partner will be chosen randomly.”

your stomach dropped.

and then—

“y/n and jaehyun,” the professor announced.

you slammed your head onto your desk.

jaehyun, meanwhile, let out a low whistle. “well. this should be fun.”

you turned your head slightly to glare at him, cheek still pressed against the desk. “i swear to god, if you break our egg, i’m breaking you.”

he grinned. “relax, partner. we’ve got this.”

you groaned. “this is literally my worst nightmare.”

jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “nah. your worst nightmare is me leaving the gym extra messy just for you.”

you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “don’t test me.”

he winked.

you nearly flipped your desk.

“now listen carefully,” your professor continued. “your assignment is simple. you must keep your egg safe for one full week. if it cracks, you fail. if you forget it somewhere, you fail. if i so much as suspect that you’re not taking this seriously, you fail.”

you felt a headache forming.

professor lee’s eyes narrowed. “and trust me, i’ll know.”

a collective shudder ran through the class. professor lee was infamous for his unconventional teaching methods. last semester, he had made students carry around cabbages as part of a psychology experiment. cabbages.

you glanced at jaehyun, who was still grinning like he had won the lottery.

he thinks this is a joke.

you groaned. “i’m so screwed.”

“nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “we got this.”

you turned to him, deadpan. “jaehyun. you literally failed this class.”

he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so did you.”

“yeah, but at least i actually tried.”

he snorted. “right. well, don’t worry, partner. our egg’s in good hands.”

you didn’t believe that for a second.

“one last thing,” professor lee added, holding up a basket. “before you leave, come up and receive your child.”

you almost choked.

child?

yuna was practically vibrating with laughter beside you. “you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“shut up.”

jaehyun, on the other hand, was already making his way to the front, completely unbothered. when he returned, he was holding the egg in his palm, studying it like it was some ancient relic.

“alright, partner,” he said, plopping into his seat. “meet our kid.”

you stared at it.

it was just a normal egg. nothing special. fragile, small, and already giving you anxiety.

“we’re so failing this,” you muttered.

jaehyun scoffed. “have a little faith.”

you gave him a pointed look. “jaehyun. be honest. how long do you think you can go without dropping it?”

he paused.

then—

“...three days?”

you groaned again.

this was going to be the longest week of your life.

—

the first day of the project was already testing every ounce of patience you had.

you and jaehyun sat at one of the library tables, your so-called child resting in an old coffee cup between you. professor lee had made it clear that this assignment wasn’t just about keeping the egg safe—you had to document everything. feeding schedules (which made zero sense), bedtime routines, and even bonding activities.

you hated every second of it.

“this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever done,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table.

jaehyun, who was busy doodling little lightning bolts around the word thunder in your shared notebook, smirked. “that’s because you lack vision.”

“oh, i have vision. i see our grades plummeting.”

he leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen in the air before catching it effortlessly. “relax, co-parent. we just have to act like responsible adults for a week.”

you squinted at him. “you literally left the egg unattended five minutes ago to go buy chips.”

he waved you off. “our kid was fine. independent.”

“it's an egg.”

“it's our egg.”

you exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him as you scribbled in the notebook. but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for the cup.

you tensed immediately.

“what are you doing?”

“holding my child.”

“no. no touching.” you moved the cup further away. “i don’t trust you.”

he looked genuinely offended. “wow. you were the one who almost knocked it over earlier.”

“because you distracted me!”

“because you were making that stupid face while writing.”

“stupid face?” you gawked at him. “i do not make a stupid face.”

he shrugged. “if the shoe fits.”

you smacked his arm with the notebook. “contribute to this or i’m making you do the whole thing by yourself.”

“fine, fine,” he sighed, taking the pen from you. he twirled it between his fingers before scrawling something next to your notes.

you glanced at the paper.

“bonding activity: jaehyun teaches the egg how to shoot a three-pointer.”

you stared at him.

“you’re a menace,” you said.

he grinned. “and yet, here we are. bonded for life.”

you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.

and somewhere in the distance, leehan and taesan—who had been watching from another table—exchanged glances before bursting into quiet laughter.

the first time you stepped into jaehyun’s room, you had one goal: check on the egg, make sure it was intact, and leave.

but of course, nothing was ever that simple with him.

“welcome to the nursery,” jaehyun said, kicking the door shut behind him.

you rolled your eyes. “nursery? it’s your room.”

“our son lives here now,” he replied, completely serious. “show some respect.”

you sighed, stepping past him. his room was… surprisingly neat. you expected a mess—basketballs lying around, clothes thrown over furniture, maybe even an unmade bed. but aside from a few scattered notebooks and a pile of hoodies in the corner, it was normal.

too normal.

“where is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

jaehyun walked over to his desk and held up a small shoebox. he lifted the lid, revealing the egg nestled in a bundle of socks.

you blinked. “you put it in a box?”

“i made a crib,” he corrected, placing the box gently on his bed. “cozy, right?”

you sat down at the edge of the bed, peering inside. "you could’ve at least used a tissue or something instead of Nike socks."

“those are premium cushioning. only the best for our kid.”

you scoffed, but you couldn’t deny that the egg was perfectly fine. untouched. safe.

and then, jaehyun did something unexpected—he sat next to you. not across from you, not at his desk, but right next to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

the usual chaos, the usual bickering, the usual tension that made you want to strangle him—it was still there. but something else settled in between the silence.

it was different here.

“so,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “how’s it feel knowing our son sleeps in my room?”

you turned to glare at him, but the second you did, you realized just how close he was.

your breath caught.

he was leaning on one arm, watching you with a lazy smirk, the kind that usually annoyed you to no end. but here, in this room, on this bed, it felt like something else.

something you didn’t want to name.

“i don’t care where it sleeps,” you muttered, looking away. “i just don’t want it broken.”

“i’ll take care of it,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.

you swallowed. “good.”

but when you tried to stand up, he didn’t move.

“jaehyun.”

“hm?”

“move.”

he grinned. "say please."

you shoved his shoulder, and he finally let you go with a laugh, flopping back onto the bed as you practically sprinted for the door.

“same time tomorrow, co-parent?” he called after you.

you slammed the door behind you, heart pounding.

your hell starts the moment you start noticing things about jaehyun that you shouldn’t be noticing.

it’s the way he moves on the court—fast, precise, like he already knows exactly where the ball will land before it even gets there. it’s the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, the way he rolls his shoulders before a free throw, the way his eyes flicker to you after making a perfect shot, as if waiting for your reaction.

and it’s infuriating.

because now, even when you’re supposed to be focusing on your game, your team, your own plays—jaehyun lingers at the back of your mind like an annoying pop song you can’t get rid of.

but the worst part? it’s not just at the gym.

it’s when you’re in his room, sitting on his bed, checking on the egg like always. except now, you’re hyperaware of how close he sits, how he sometimes lets his arm rest against yours like it’s nothing. how, when you pout at him over something stupid—like the way he insists on calling your egg “junior” instead of a normal name—his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second too long.

and jaehyun?

he’s in denial.

because this was not supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to want to kiss you when you scolded him. wasn’t supposed to feel heat creeping up his neck when you absentmindedly played with your necklace while talking. wasn’t supposed to care that your team captain from another school once called you “impressive” after a practice match.

he wasn’t supposed to want you.

and unfortunately for him, his friends have noticed.

“so,” woonhak drawls one afternoon, lazily dribbling a basketball as they sit on the bleachers, watching you and your team wrap up practice. “when are you gonna admit it?”

jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “admit what?”

leehan snorts. “that you like her, dumbass.”

“i don’t,” jaehyun scoffs, leaning back against the bench.

sungho raises a brow. “right. that’s why you’re staring at her like she personally offended you by existing.”

jaehyun looks away immediately, only for leehan to chuckle.

“you do realize she probably feel the same way, right?”

that makes jaehyun freeze for a second.

taesan hums. “she still argue with you, sure. but i see the way she get all flustered when you compliment her. she didn’t used to react like that.”

jaehyun opens his mouth to deny it again, but then he thinks back.

to the way you stumbled over your words last week when he casually told you your spike was getting better. to the way your breath hitched when he tucked your hair behind your ear. to the way you hesitated before leaving his room the other night, as if you were starting to feel this too.

maybe his friends were right.

and that’s when jaehyun decides: it’s time to test the waters.

so he starts pushing boundaries—just a little.

at the gym, after practice, he doesn’t just wink at you like usual. he lingers, waiting for you to react, grinning when you groan and shove him away.

when you come over to check on the egg, he always has food ready, pretending it’s no big deal when he slides a plate toward you.

“i didn’t ask for this,” you huff, poking at the meal he made.

“didn’t say you did,” he shrugs, sitting across from you. “but you always look tired after practice. eat.”

and that confuses you.

because what the hell is he doing? what the hell does he want?

you’d always known jaehyun as the annoying basketball captain who drove you insane, but now…

now he’s holding your hand a second longer than necessary. now he’s calling you “co-parent” with a lazy grin that makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. now he’s casually running a hand through his hair while watching you in between classes, like he knows something you don’t.

and you hate that it scares you.

because if this is just another game to him, if he’s just messing with you—then why does it feel so real?

the egg cracks.

not metaphorically—though, honestly, it might as well be—but literally.

you’re standing in jaehyun’s room, holding what used to be your child (as he so dramatically called it), staring at the jagged fracture running across the eggshell. your breath catches in your throat.

“oh, shit,” you whisper.

jaehyun, who had been leaning against his desk, looks up from his phone. “what?”

you slowly turn to him, the broken egg cradled in your hands like a crime scene.

“we killed junior.”

for a moment, there’s silence. then—

“oh my god,” jaehyun breathes out, eyes widening.

“we’re failures.”

“we’re murderers.”

“professor lee is going to slaughter us.”

“okay, first of all,” jaehyun says, quickly moving toward you, “you’re the one who dropped it—”

“don’t you dare pin this on me.”

“—and second,” he continues, ignoring you, “we just need a replacement.”

you blink at him. “you want to… replace our child?”

“wouldn’t be the first time people switched babies at birth,” he shrugs.

“you’re insane.”

“do you want to fail?”

you purse your lips. no. but—

jaehyun sighs. “look, we can sit here mourning an egg, or we can fix the problem. your call.”

you scowl at him, but he’s right. begrudgingly, you set the cracked egg down and grab your bag.

“fine. but if we get caught—”

“we won’t,” he grins, already grabbing his car keys and intertwining his hand with yours, “let’s go, co-parent.”

—

you manage to replace the egg. you turn in your project. you pass.

but that’s not the ending.

the ending is this:

it’s late, and you’re at jaehyun’s house, sprawled out on his bed like always. the ceiling fan hums softly overhead, casting slow-moving shadows against the walls. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little too comforting. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, gaze half-lidded with concentration.

you’re supposed to feel relieved. the project is over. the ridiculous assignment, the stress, the stupid arguments—you survived it all. but your head is still spinning, not from exhaustion, but from something else. something heavier.

because things have shifted. you don’t bicker as much anymore. the teasing has changed. the tension isn’t sharp—it’s something softer now, something unspoken that curls around the edges of your conversations. something that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a little longer than they should.

“so,” jaehyun says suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet. “you’re still thinking about it.”

you blink at him. “thinking about what?”

he finally looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s amused.

“us.”

your stomach flips. you sit up too fast, the mattress dipping beneath you. “there’s no us.”

jaehyun smirks. slow. knowing. like he’s heard the lie in your voice before you even said it.

“sure,” he hums, spinning the ball again. “but i think about it.”

your breath hitches.

“what?”

he tosses the ball aside. it rolls off the bed, thudding softly onto the carpet, but you barely hear it over the sudden rush of blood in your ears. because he’s shifting, leaning in, invading your space in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

closer than necessary. closer than friends should be.

“i think about how much fun it is to piss you off,” he murmurs, and his voice is different this time—lower, rougher. “i think about how much i like having you around.”

his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch is barely there, but it burns.

“and i think about how, if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

your breath catches.

because he’s right.

but the worst part? you don’t want to stop him.

you don’t move when his gaze flickers down to your lips. you don’t push him away when his fingers graze your jaw, thumb tracing slow, feather-light circles against your skin.

and when he finally tilts his head and closes the distance, when his lips press against yours in something hesitant but undeniably real—

you kiss him back.

No having to convince Chenle to take literature with you, no having to sit through hours of listening to your professor talking about how great of a work The Great Gatsby was and how it impacted the history of literature.

Instead, you probably would’ve learned more about black holes.

And most importantly, how to get swallowed by one.

You knew stars got swallowed by black holes all the time, sucking them into oblivion just for them to never be seen again; so why couldn’t one swallow you, too? Well, technically, you knew they couldn’t - you did pay a little attention in science class back in high school, after all. 

But that didn’t stop you from wishing, begging even, for one to randomly appear and pull you into the dark nothingness.

Especially in moments like these, where you felt your whole world collapse around you.

‘’Sungchan?’’ Both out of breath and slightly panicking, your voice came out shakily as your best friend finally picked up the phone. After stumbling out of Heeseungs car and calling his number multiple times, each and every call going straight to voicemail - the thought of anyone, especially Sungchan, knowing what had just happened in the darkness of Heeseungs car causing a sudden feeling of distress to spread across your chest.

You wondered just how many people had seen you leaving with Heeseung, you wondered if anyone knew what had happened, but most importantly: you wondered if someone had seen you and Heeseung making out just outside the front door, making it incredibly easy for absolutely anyone to see you.

Wanting to slap yourself across the face for being so reckless, no, you wanted to slap Heeseung across the face for being so reckless. He knew exactly what he was doing, you thought, there was no way he didn’t. He knew you’d kiss him back, he knew you’d let him do whatever he wanted with you; even if it meant he had to do it in front of every person you knew.

Including your two best friends, who both thought you loathed Lee Heeseung more than anything else.

No, you did loath Lee Heeseung more than anything else. And that’s probably why you let him finger you in the back of his car, right?

‘’Where are you?’’ Sungchans sharp voice echoing through your ears caused you to let go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, nibbling on your bottom lip. How were you supposed to explain your current situation to him, if he didn’t already know, which he most likely did? The almost bitter tone lingering behind how words indicated that he did, in fact, know.

And the thought almost made your stomach turn inside out.

‘’I’m outside, but I can explain, I promi-’’

‘’Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he? I swear to God Y/N, I’ll kill him,’’

Wait.

You could now clearly hear the concern lingering behind his words as he spoke, something you had managed to miss while internally panicking, his words causing you to frown.

Maybe he didn’t know, and you prayed you were right.

‘’What? No, I’m okay, he didn’t hurt me,’’ You let out, hoping he couldn't hear the distress in your voice. And to your surprise, he didn’t seem to notice it as a small sigh left his lips; the sound of him opening a door echoing through the speakers of your phone. ‘’Fuck Y/N, I was so worried,’’ He mumbled, the bitter tone that had lingered behind his words now nowhere to be found; worry taking its place. ‘’Where exactly are you? I’ll come to you.’’

Turning around to look at the car parked right behind you, you once again found yourself nibbling on your bottom lip. ‘’I’m just down the street, I’ll meet you at the door, alright?’’ You prayed he’d agree to your request, your eyes still glued to the parked car; the car in which Heeseung was still sitting. 

A short silence followed, causing you to grow slightly anxious again as your best friend remained silent. ‘’Alright.’’

With shaky hands, you ended the call and took a deep breath. Tearing your eyes off the car, you quickly started walking down the road leading back to the party; deciding it was for the best to not look back, nor did you feel like telling Heeseung you were leaving.

Not that it mattered to him, anyway.

‘’You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later,’’’

Giving your friend a small nod in an attempt to encourage him to leave the now almost empty classroom, you let your fingers ghost over the keyboard of your laptop. Sungchan, however, just frowned upon hearing your words; raising both his eyebrows as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. ‘’You’re not eating?’’ 

You just hummed in response, a small sigh falling off the tip of your tongue as your eyes darted back to the computer. ‘’I don’t have time, I have to finish this before noon or my literature professor will be pissed,’’ You mumbled, keeping your eyes on the screen of your computer as you spoke. 

Sungchan stared at you for a minute, observing you as you bit down on your lower lip and furrowed your eyebrows while reading the article you had pulled up. You almost began to think he had left, when your laptop was suddenly slammed shut; your eyes landing on Sungchan’s finger, which had just been used to close the computer in front of you. 

‘’Well, tell your professor that eating is kind of necessary to survive,’’ Your gaze landed on the boy now standing in front of you, his finger still keeping the laptop shut as you rolled your eyes; grabbing onto his hand before shoving it away. ‘’And I’m telling you I can just eat later.’’ You let out, squinting your eyes at him as you opened the laptop back up, earning an eye roll from your best friend.

‘’You never said that.’’

‘’I just did.’’

‘’You can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that right?’’ Sungchan muttered, shaking his head as he watched you return to reading the article you had just been reading. ‘’Yeah, whatever, now go and eat,’’ You mumbled back, keeping your eyes on your computer screen while waving your hand; signaling for him to go enjoy his lunch.

Accepting his defeat, Sungchan let out a low sigh before fixing his backpack, already on his way out. ‘’I’ll get you something, alright?’’ He let out right when he was about to walk through the door, looking back at you one last time. 

Giving him a thumbs up, still keeping your eyes on the computer, you mumbled a ‘thank you’ - which you weren’t even sure if he heard, before he eventually left.

And like that, you were left alone.

A sigh escaped your lips as you placed your elbows on the table in front of you, letting your forehead rest in the palms of your hands as you stared down at the keyboard in front of you. Three days had passed since you allowed Heeseung to finger you in his car, three days since you had managed to convince Sungchan nothing happened between the two of you.

Three days since you lied to your best friend, rather said.

Sungchan had been visibly upset when you walked up the driveway, his back leaning against the side of the house until he eventually spotted your figure coming towards him; practically tunning towards you before grabbing onto every part of your body, making sure you weren’t hurt.

He checked your arms, his fingertips grabbing onto your jaw to make sure you weren’t hurt there and he even asked you to show your legs to him; just so he could make sure he hadn’t hurt you there, too. Of course, he didn’t find any signs of you getting hurt - because you hadn’t.

That part wasn’t a lie, you thought. 

The part that came after, though? A completely different story. 

With Sungchan glaring at you, waiting for an explanation as to why you were with Lee Heeseung alone; you began rambling about Heeseung pissing you off, which wasn’t technically a lie, he had pissed you off and that’s why you stormed away with him in the first place. You told him you had just dragged him out of there to tell him off, to stand up for yourself, anything; anything that made it sound like you hadn’t let Heeseung kiss you right where the two of you were standing.

You didn’t want to lie to your friend, but you also felt like you had no choice. You knew you couldn’t tell him what had really happened, not right there and then; not when he had just told you he’d kill him if he as much as laid a finger on you.

You guessed that was when you realized you had to lie, when you realized how much Sungchan actually loathed Lee Heeseung. And at that point, you also realized Sungchan might’ve hated Lee Heeseung more than you did.

A part of you wished your best friend wouldn’t have believed your stupid lie, that he’d call you out and tell you he knew; that he knew about the night at Chenle’s birthday party, that he knew about the kiss and that he knew that Heeseung had just fingered you in his car - you just wished he knew.

Because if Sungchan wouldn’t have believed you, it would never happen again. You would never end up with Heeseung’s lips against your own ever again, you would never doubt your hatred for Heeseung ever again - you and Heeseung would never happen again.

But sadly, Sungchan did believe your stupid lie. And what was even sadder, was when you realized it was most likely going to happen again.

‘’You know, it’s kind of rude to just run off like that.’’

A yelp left your lips as a voice suddenly filled your ears, causing your head to snap in the direction the voice was coming from; your whole body flinching in surprise. A low sigh left your lips as your eyes met a pair of familiar ones, a pair that you had grown a little too familiar with.

Heeseung.

‘’I’m not doing this,’’ You mumbled, your eyes darting back to your laptop before slamming it shut, just like Sungchan had done a few minutes prior and you couldn’t help but wish you had agreed to come with him. A chuckle was heard coming from beside you as you began packing your things, rushing to get them into your bag; not wanting to stay in the same room as Lee Heeseung for another minute. 

‘’What’s the rush? Your boyfriend left a while ago, don’t worry, I made sure he left before I came here.’’ You just remained silent, not even acknowledging the words that had just left his lips, keeping your eyes on your bag as you began to fiddle with the zipper; trying to leave the room as fast as you could.

You weren’t doing this, not today. 

Heeseung, however, seemed to have different plans. As you finally managed to zip the bag shut, you quickly grabbed onto the strap before walking around the table you had just been sitting by; heading straight for the door without even looking Heeseungs way. 

Perhaps you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy getting away from him, it was Lee Heeseung, after all.

Feeling his cold hand grab onto your wrist, your steps came to an abrupt stop as he prevented you from walking away. ‘’You’re not even going to say sorry?’’ You inhaled through your nose, trying your best to calm yourself down before spinning around; now facing the boy who was still holding onto your wrist.

‘’Say sorry for what, Heeseung?’’ You glared at him, your eyes traveling down to his lips, a small smirk forming on them. ‘’Someone is in a bad mood,’’ He chuckled, his fingers slipping away from your wrist and his arm falling down his side once more. You just continued glaring at him, the feeling of his fingers on your skin leaving an almost eerie feeling to spread across your chest.

He just stared back at you, his gaze traveling up and down your body; making you feel exposed, naked even, as a chuckle left his throat. ‘’I was just coming here so you could apologize.’’ Keeping your eyes glued on him, you blinked. ‘’Apologize for what?’’

Heeseung could hear the annoyance lingering in your voice and you wondered if that’s what he wanted. You wondered if he came here to rile you up, to make you panic - to make you almost look at the door to make sure no one could see you standing there with him, alone. Shaking his head, a grin still on his lips, he looked down at his shoes before eventually taking a step towards you.

Your whole body froze as he looked back up, realizing how close he now was. You felt the need to take a step backward, to run out of there; anything, anything from preventing this from happening.

But you never did.

No, instead you remained standing in the exact same spot as Heeseung brought his hand to your face, his fingertips ghosting over the skin of your cheek. ‘’For leaving me like that,’’ He mumbled, his eyes watching as he put a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your hair. You just kept your eyes on him, your breath hitching in your throat as his fingertips ghosted against the side of your neck.

‘’I know you hate me, but damn,’’ He lowly chuckled, letting his hand gently cup the side of your face, ‘’Leaving me, without a single word, after I made you cum on my fingers? I think I deserve an apology for that.’’

Oh no.

This wasn’t about to happen.

‘’Heeseung,’’ You almost whined, your voice coming out hoarse as you spoke, ‘’Not here.’’ A chuckle left Heeseung’s throat, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he tilted his head. ‘’Why? Are you scared someone will see us?’’ He cooed, his eyes low as he stared at you; your lips parting, he was right. 

You had fought for your life trying to convince Sungchan nothing had happened between you and Heeseung, that he had just pissed you off and you just went to tell him off; the last thing you needed was for someone to see this, Heeseung cornering you in an empty classroom.

Heeseung clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as you remained silent. ‘’Tell me,’’ He let out, leaning closer to you; his eyes darting down to your lips, causing your own eyes to mimic his as your eyes landed on his lips. ‘’Would that really be so bad?’’

His words caused you to look up at him once more, your lips still slightly parted; this time in surprise. ‘’What?’’ You breathed, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek and thanks to how close he was, you could feel his chest press against your own every time he took a breath. A grin formed on his lips, tilting his head so he could look at you properly. 

‘’Someone catching us, would that really be so bad?’’ He let out, his voice low and you could easily hear the mocking lingering behind his words. The sudden question took you by surprise, every word leaving your throat coming out in a stutter; causing Heeseung to chuckle at your desperate attempt to defend yourself. ‘’I don’t think it’d be so bad, Y/N,’’

His other hand suddenly snaked under your shirt, lightly caressing your side causing a whimper to trail off your lips; your eyes immediately darting down to look, watch even, as his fingertips ghosted over your now slightly exposed skin. Sucking air through his teeth, he let his fingertips dance across your skin; allowing them to come into contact with the hem of your bra.  

‘’Wouldn’t it be a good thing? To put an end to the rumors going around about you,’’ His breath fanning across your cheek took you by surprise, too hypnotized by the feeling of his rough fingers ghosting over your skin to notice that he had leaned even closer to you; his lips almost grazing against your ear as he spoke. ‘’Or maybe letting everyone see how easy you fold for me,’’

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as his fingertips suddenly slipped under the elastic band holding your bra in place, another low whimper leaving your throat at the feeling of his cold fingers coming into contact with your flesh. 

He was right. You folded for him, again and again, and almost too easily - but there was something about his lanky fingers caressing your skin and his mouth spitting such foul words at you that you just couldn’t withstand; not when you could feel his hot breath against the skin of your neck and his chest practically pressing up against your own. ‘’Heeseung,’’ You whimpered once more, this time as a warning.

The warning, however, just made Heeseung chuckle as you tilted your head slightly to the side; your whole neck on display for him, begging for his lips to decorate the sensitive skin. ‘’You want everyone to know, don’t you?’’ He murmured, letting his lips ghost over your neck as his hand only traveled closer to your breasts. You quickly shook your head no, your eyes fluttering close at the feeling of his lips finally coming into contact with your now burning skin.

‘’Of course you do,’’ He hissed, pressing a soft kiss right below your ear; your lips parting as his hand finally cupped one of your breasts, a moan ripping through your chest. Heeseung, however, was quick to rip you out of your trance - his hand slipping out of your shirt, the loss of contact causing a whine to leave your lips as your eyes fluttered open again; only to be met by him already looking at you with a small smirk on his lips

‘’Unfortunately, you haven’t been very nice, have you?’’ He let out, his head once again tilted. You just stared at him with wide eyes, what did you expect? Did you honestly expect Heeseung, the man who had spent his whole life teasing you, to make an exception, right here, right now? Of course, he wasn’t. 

Another chuckle left his lips at the sight of you, both confusion and desperation written all over your face; the palm of his hand grabbing onto your cheeks once more. ‘’But maybe,’’ He let out, watching his own thumb stroke your cheek before swiping it across your bottom lip, ‘’If you be a good girl and meet me by the bleachers, I’ll forgive you, hm?’’

Letting his thumb rest against your bottom lip, his gaze met yours once more; both his eyebrows raised as he waited for you to respond.

You just stared back at him with wide eyes, his thumb gently tugging your lip downwards; there was no way you’d sneak around with Lee Heeseung, no, not like this. And especially not behind the bleachers.

With your back pressed against the cold metal of the bleachers by the football field, just outside the school where all your friends currently were, low whimpers left your lips as Heeseung’s lips gently sucked on the skin right below your ear. ‘’Please, no marks,’’ You whimpered, your arms sneaking around his neck. Heeseung just rolled his eyes upon hearing your words, moving away from the spot he was just nibbling on. ‘’You’re so demanding for someone who practically begged me to fuck her.’’

You really wished Sungchan would’ve seen right through your lie.

You were about to protest as he swiped his tongue against your skin, his teeth lightly nibbling on the skin causing another whine to emerge from the back of your throat. ‘’I didn’t,’’ You gasped as one of his hands found its way into your hair; gently tugging it to the side, giving him easier access to press rough kisses down your neck. ‘’Say you could fuck me.’’ 

The chuckle that left Heeseung’s throat caused you to whimper, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure of his lips assaulting your neck. ‘’And I never said I’d fuck you, either.’’ He mumbled against your skin, his lanky fingers suddenly wrapping around your wrist; a loud gasp leaving your lips as he placed the palm of your hand against his crotch.

More specifically, the bulge that had begun to grow underneath the fabric of his jeans.

The two times you had been intimate with Heeseung, he had been the one to please you. Well, if you could call the first time pleasing you, that being said, as he left you hanging; he did however make up for it the second time, though, you thought. 

But the fact still remained, never had you been the one to please him.

Even though you had most definitely felt his hard-on poke your inner thigh as he fingered you with you on his lap, and maybe if you hadn’t left him all alone in the darkness of his car to wonder where you went that night; maybe you would’ve had the chance to please him, too.

But you didn’t, and a part of you didn’t want to - both because he didn’t exactly deserve it, but also because you had no idea how to.

You had no idea whatsoever how to please someone else.

Your girlfriends had talked about pleasing other guys multiple times, talking about how their boyfriends liked it and practically exposing their boyfriends for the whole world to hear; to which you mostly just rolled your eyes, zoning out as you had no interest in knowing how they sucked their boyfriends dicks or how they jerked them off.

You also remember that one time Chenle bragged about the best head he had ever received in the bathroom of some party he attended, going into detail about how amazing it was and even going into detail about how she did it; and if it hadn’t been for Sungchan telling him to cut it out because neither of you wanted to hear about him getting his dick wet, he probably would’ve given every detail there was to give.

Maybe you should’ve listened to your girlfriends gossiping about their boyfriends and perhaps you should’ve let Chenle go into detail about the greatest head he had ever received, because then you probably wouldn’t have been so clueless as to what to do when Heeseung pressed the palm of your hand against the bulge in his pants.

Heeseung groaned against your neck as he applied some pressure, his fingers gripping onto your wrist even harder. Pressing one last kiss right below your ear, he looked up at you; a small chuckle leaving his lips as he spotted the confused look on your face. ‘’What’s that face for, hm? Is it because I said I won’t fuck you?’’ He let out, your palm still pressed against the bulge in his pants and his finger still tangled into your hair. 

You just stared at him for a moment, slightly out of breath from the makeout session you had shared a few minutes prior and you realized Heeseung probably didn’t even know that you were a virgin.

‘’Fuck you, I never even said I wanted you to fuck me,’’ You breathed, trying your best to not let it show how flustered you were by just feeling his cock outside of his pants, the thought of actually feeling it causing your heart to race. You just prayed he couldn’t hear it, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

But of course, he did hear it - and the smirk on his lips proved you right. Licking his lips, he scanned your face. ‘’Good,’’ He let out, letting the hand that he had wrapped around your waist fall to his side, ‘’Because I have fucking zero plans on pleasing you today.’’

A yelp left your lips as you felt your knees hit the grass underneath you, his grip around your hair tightening as he forced you to look up at him. A small smirk formed on his lips as his eyes landed on your face, your eyes wide and lips parted; the smirk slowly being replaced by a pout. ‘’You thought I’d let you feel good, after just leaving me like that?’’ He cooed, his grip on your hair loosening once again as he spoke, his fingers slipping out of your hair. ‘’I don’t think so.’’ He continued, using the palm of his head to stroke the top of your head.

You just stared at him, not being able to do anything else. Your heart was on the verge of bursting out of your chest, your underwear sticking to your core as drops of arousal slipped out as a result of his harsh words. You know you shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, you know you shouldn’t be getting wet at the thought of Heeseung being so mean to you; yet the wet patch that had begun to form in your underwear only continued to grow. 

Heeseung, however, just stared back at you; slowly growing confused. Weren’t you getting the hint? Or were you just trying to get on his nerves? ‘’Looking at me like that isn’t going to change anything, you know that, right?’’ He let out through gritted teeth, causing you to place your bottom lip in between your teeth; looking down at your lap to avoid embarrassing yourself.

Oh god.

He had no idea.

‘’It’s not that,’’ You mumbled and Heeseung almost couldn’t make out what you were saying. ‘’What?’’ He let out, furrowing his eyebrows as his hand slipped away from your head, falling down his side. You just nodded, your eyes still glued to your lap; curses running through your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut; if you hadn’t embarrassed yourself around Heeseung enough, you sure were about to.

‘’I just, haven’t, you know,’’ You began, your words coming out mumbled as you tried to find the right words; the words that wouldn’t make you sound stupid. Heeseung just stared at you, still feeling confused; until it hit him.

You had never given anyone head before.

His lips parted as the realization set in, his gaze softening; not that you could see it, as your eyes were still squeezed shut and glued to your lap. ‘’You’ve never given anyone head before?’’ He let out, causing you to bite down on your lower lip once more; fighting the urge to let a curse slip past your lips. Instead, you just slowly nodded your head - preparing yourself for him to burst out laughing.

The laughter, however, never came.

Instead, silence followed. You weren’t sure which one you would’ve preferred, him making fun of you or him benign completely quiet; both seemed equally as bad, especially when you were on your knees in front of him. 

That was until you suddenly heard him moving, and you were just about to open your eyes when you felt him place one of his fingers underneath your chin; tilting your head upwards. Your eyes fluttered open, only to be met by his squatting figure; a small smirk lingering on his lips. ‘’Well, in that case,’’ He spoke, his eyes scanning your now flustered face, ‘’How about I teach you?’’

You just stared at him for a minute, feeling both confused and embarrassed. Why was he not laughing, like you know he’d normally do whenever you embarrassed yourself in front of him? You slowly nodded your head, his finger still under your chin; his eyes scanning your face once more and you wondered why he was suddenly being so careful. 

Nodding his head back at you, he grabbed onto your hands before standing back up, your eyes following his movements. ‘’Take my pants off.’’ He let out, keeping his eyes on you as he placed both your hands by his crotch once more. This time, however, you just nodded your head before letting your fingertips come into contact with the zipper decorating his crotch.

The feeling of your fingertips grazing over his bulge almost caused goosebumps to form down Heesueng’s arms, the sight in front of him causing his cock to slightly twitch in his jeans. A small sigh left his lips as you finally undid the button of his pants and pulled the zipper down, letting his cock somewhat leave the restraint of his pants before pulling them down to his knees.

You almost gulped as your eyes landed on the now very obvious bulge that had formed in his underwear, letting your fingertips trace the outline of his cock; a low groan leaving Heeseung’s lips at the sensation. Your eyes darted up to look at him, slightly scared you might’ve done something wrong; but the sight in front of you proved you the opposite.

With his eyes low and his head slightly tilted to the side, he watched as you placed your hand on top of his bulge, slowly letting the palm glide against the fabric. Heeseung just let out a breath at the feeling, fighting the urge to just pull his underwear down right there and then and feel your warm mouth around him. ‘’Now take my underwear off.’’ He breathed, causing you to slowly nod once again; letting your fingers travel towards the waistband of his boxers before hooking one of your fingers underneath it.

This wasn’t the first time Heeseung had received head behind those very same bleachers, the football field remote enough for people to never walk by which made it the best spot in the entire school to sneak around. Behind the tall metal bleachers, he knew he’d never be discovered; mentally thanking Chenle for showing him this spot in the first place.

But even though it wasn’t his first time getting his dick wet behind those bleachers, this time felt different. Much, much different.

A hiss left Heeseungs lips as his now almost fully hard cock sprung free as you finally managed to pull his boxers down, followed by a gasp leaving your lips. With your thighs now rubbing together in an attempt to somewhat relieve the aching coming from between your legs, you let your fingers wander back to his cock; slowly wrapping them around his grith, looking up at him for reassurance. 

Heeseung almost forgot he was supposed to teach you, as this was your first time; biting down on his lower lip as your big eyes met his and your fingers wrapped around his cock. Remembering you were expecting him to guide you through it, he nodded, wrapping his own hand around your own. ‘’Just like that,’’ He let out, slowly guiding your hand up and down his length, his cock feeling heavy in your palm. You let your eyes dart back down, watching as he guided your hand back and forth; nodding your head.

His hand eventually slipped off your own, finding its way into your hair as a low grunt left his throat as you continued stroking his length; his eyes fluttering shut. ‘’It’s not like it’s going to fall off if you go a little harder, you know,’’ He mumbled, missing the way you rolled your eyes at him. ‘’Shut up or I’ll literally make it fall off.’

Heeseung was about to come up with a snarky reply, when you suddenly began to go faster; and harder, just like he had said. A broken groan left his lips, letting his head hit the metal pole holding the bleacher up behind him; forgetting all about the snarky reply that almost trailed off the tip of his tongue as a wave of pleasure washed over him. A small smile formed on your lips at his reaction, a feeling of accomplishment washing over you, slowly replacing the feeling of nervousness.

‘’Fuck,’’ He grunted, his eyes fluttering open once more as his gaze once more landed on you; his fingers lightly tugging at your hair in an attempt to tell you he was enjoying it. ‘’Now spit on it.’’ His words caused you to slow down, your lips parting as you looked up at him; confusion written all over your face. ‘’What?’’ You let out, causing Heeseung to nod. ‘’You heard me, spit on it.’’

Staring at him for a moment, you slowly looked back at his now fully erect cock; wrapping your fingers around the base as you sat up on your knees, now eye level with his cock. Leaning forwards, you let a glop of spit leave your tongue; dropping right onto the tip - Heeseung’s grip around your hair tightening as you watched your own spit run down the sides of his cock. 

Through gritted teeth, a hiss left Heeseung’s throat as he felt you go back to stroking his cock; having to hold back from fucking himself into your fist. ‘’That’s good,’’ He mumbled, throwing his head back once again; if he continued watching you he’d cum right there and then by just looking at your hand wrapped around his cock, he was sure of it. And he didn’t want this moment to end, not just yet. 

Nodding in response, you tried speeding up your movements; your eyes darting back up to look at the boy standing above you, the sight in front of you causing your hole to clench around nothing. With his head thrown back and his adam’s apple on full display, you held back a moan of your own; deciding you wanted to see more of this side of him.

Leaning forward once again, you experimentally pressed a soft kiss against the tip of his cock; the feeling causing a broken groan to rip through his chest, his eyes landing on you once again and he wished he hadn’t looked, because what he saw almost caused a whimper to leave his lips. 

With your eyes staring right back at him through your lashes and your lips pressed against his tip, all while your hand was still stroking his cock; he pressed his lips into a thin line; grabbing onto your hair even harder and slowly guiding your mouth onto him. 

Parting your lips, you let his cock slowly slide into your mouth; your hand no longer stroking his cock and your lips wrapping around his tip, watching as his lips parted at the sensation. ‘’Keep going,’’ He breathed, watching as you went back to stroking his length and slowly letting his cock fill your mouth up. Another hiss left his lips as he felt you swipe your tongue against the underside of his now throbbing cock, resting his head against the metal pole behind him once more. 

His grip around your hair softened as you began bobbing your head up and down, your fist still pumping whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth up and down; remaining eye contact with him as you rubbed your thighs together.

Not once had you thought you’d end up giving head for the first time behind some bleachers, nor did you think it would be Heeseung’s cock you’d be sucking; but there you were, with your knees rubbing against the grass and Heeseung’s groans echoing through your ears.

‘’Fuck, Y/N,’’ He breathed, his other hand finding its way through your hair as well; pulling some of the pieces of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ears before letting it join his other hand at the back of your head. Still bobbing your head up and down, you hummed against his cock; placing one of your hands on top of his thighs in order to support yourself.

Panting was heard coming from above you, your eyes darting between him and his cock; feeling his thighs clench under your touch. ‘’Just keep going, just like that,’’ He mumbled, his words coming out slurred as he slowly began helping you bob your head up and down faster, using the hands he had placed on the back of your head. 

You choose to ignore the tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he thrusted his cock further down your throat, resting your hand at the base of his cock as you let your mouth do all the work. Swiping your tongue against the underside of his cock once more, you looked up at him; your eyes meeting his.

Heeseung let out a curse as his eyes landed on you, your big, now glossy eyes staring right back at him. The sight in front of him caused his cock to twitch inside the warmth of your mouth, spit forming in the corners of your mouth as he guided your head up and down; his bottom lip placed in between his teeth as he felt his orgasm approaching. 

‘’I’m gonna cum,’’ He mumbled in an attempt to warn you, low grunts ripping through his chest as he kept guiding your head back and forth. You only nodded in encouragement, letting your tongue rest against the underside of his cock as he fucked into your mouth; his hands gripping onto your hair even harder.

The feeling of your nails digging into his thighs sent him over the edge, his white seed spilling down your throat as one loud, final groan ripped through his chest; followed by a trail of low whimpers as his hips twitched, his cock sliding even further down your throat.

Trying your hardest not to gag around his length, you relaxed, your nails digging deeper into his skin as you looked up at him; admiring how he looked with his eyes squeezed shut and the veins now prominent on his neck. 

Stilling his hips, he opened his eyes; slowly letting his hands leave your hair as he heavily panted. You just stared up at him, slowly pulling your mouth off his now almost soft cock with a pop; causing his lips to part. Ignoring the dryness in your throat, accompanied by a slight pain, you wiped your mouth using the back of your hand; silence engulfing the two fo you.

‘’You did good,’’ His sudden words broke the silence, causing you to look back up at him as you felt him place the palm of his hand against your cheek. ‘’Never thought you’d be so good at giving head.’’ His words almost made you chuckle as his thumb stroked your cheek, using his other one to pull his underwear back up, followed by his jeans.

Offering you his other hand, he helped you stand up properly; wrapping an arm around your shoulders as your legs almost gave out on you, feeling wobbly from being on your knees for so long. Another silence fell upon the two of you, and you found yourself frowning.

Not once had you felt awkward around Lee Heeseung. Annoyed, sure, pissed off, absolutely; but awkward? Never. 

Well, until today, that being said.

‘’It’s okay,’’ You mumbled under your breath, lightly shaking his arm off of you; using your hands in an attempt to dust off the dirt that had almost embroidered itself into the fabric of your pants. Heeseung stared at you for a moment and he, too, wondered why it suddenly felt almost awkward to be around you.

Letting his arm fall back down his side, he decided it’d be for the best to just leave you be even though he felt the urge to make sure you were doing okay; if it was for his own best or yours, he wasn’t sure. A part of him wanted to believe it had nothing to do with you, it was just him being a decent human being, right?

Right, it had absolutely nothing to do with you. He couldn't care less about you, a frown forming on his face and he found himself thanking whatever higher being there was that you weren’t looking at him; because if you had, you would’ve most definitely noticed the uncertainty that had begun to form inside his chest. ‘’You can leave, you know?’’

Your words came out mumbled and low, but clear enough for Heeseung to make out what you were saying and pick up on the almost harsh tone behind your words; snapping him out of his trance as he realized he had been staring at you. Blinking, your eyes met his and you wondered if Heeseung had ever looked at you like that before.

You frowned, ‘’We’re done, aren’t we?’’

Heeseung just stared at you for a moment before giving you a small nod, leaving you to furrow your eyebrows together; your lips parting as you were about to ask him why he was looking at you like that, almost like you had managed to offend him in some way - before he tore his eyes off you and walked away.

And there you were, left standing behind the bleachers all on your own; your throat slightly aching as the feeling of Heeseung’s fingertips ghosting over your skin lingered, accompanied by the unfamiliar look in his eyes that had burned into your mind.

Lee Heeseung confused you.

Running his fingers through his hair, a low sigh escaped Heeseung’s lips as he made his way down the hallway; trying his hardest to ignore the sudden burdensome feeling that had spread across his chest.

‘’No fucking way,’’ A voice spoke up from behind him, ‘’Who was it?’’ Heeseung immediately recognized the voice, his steps coming to a halt as he turned around; his eyes landing on his shorter friend. 

He had heard someone almost running after him, after all.

‘’Chenle,’’ He let out, immediately catching onto the curious look in his friend's wide eyes; a small frown forming on his lips as Chenle let out a laugh, placing his hand on the taller boy’s shoulder. ‘’I told you, that place is fucking amazing, right? Now who was it, Yunjin?’’

Heeseung placed his bottom lip in between his teeth, staring at his friend; his eyes wide and a small smirk plastered on his lips, and Heeseung realized he had fucked up.

He had fucked up badly.

‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’

A groan emerged from the back of Chenle’s throat as Heeseung attempted to walk past him, the grip he had on his friend’s shoulder hardening in an attempt to stop him from leaving. ‘’C’mon man, I literally saw you leaving from across the parking lot,’’

With his eyes fluttering shut and inhaling through his nose, Heeseung realized the spot wasn’t as good as he originally thought - otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with Chenle grabbing onto his shoulder and staring at him with big eyes; filled with anticipation as he waited for his friend to tell him what had gone down behind the bleachers.

Or with who, more specifically.

Letting a sigh escape his lips, Heeseung opened his eyes to look at his friend - when a thought suddenly hit him.

Parting his lips, he realized there was one thing he could still do to somewhat fight back the thoughts that were currently clouding his mind.

It was only fair, right? With a heavy feeling still lingering in his chest, a small smirk formed on his lips; placing his tongue in between his teeth. It wasn’t fair that he was the only one carrying this heavy feeling around, he thought, right? It was only fair that he did what he was about to do - at least according to Heeseung, and the urge to get rid of whatever the feeling that was only spreading further and further, threatening to swallow him whole any second.

If he was going down, you were going down with him.

‘’Alright,’’ Placing his own hand on his friend’s shoulder, causing his shorter friend’s eyes to widen even more in anticipation, ‘’You really wanna know?’’

A strange, almost surreal feeling had settled deep into your chest.

Maybe it was the fact that almost a whole week had passed since your knees hit the grass behind the football field and Heeseung had yet to utter a single word to you, or maybe it was the fact that Chenle had been awfully distant - you weren’t too sure, but something had caused a bizarre feeling to plant its roots deep within your chest; tugging at your heart every now and then.

Perhaps it was all Heeseung’s fault, as most things were; Heeseung had always been the root of most of your problems after all, especially after that one night.

Chenle’s birthday party, the first night you allowed yourself to get sucked into the world of Lee Heeseung, the world you had feared ever since his laugh had echoed through the hallways of your middle school; it was kind of ironic, you thought, how things had changed - yet everything remained the same.

You still loathed Heeseung, the hatred for the boy running deep within your veins and just the mere sight of him made you want to curl into a ball and never look him in the eyes ever again. Your hatred for the boy remained the same, just like it had formed years back, it still haunted you to the point where nothing but repulsion spread across your chest every time you caught a glimpse of him.

Until one day, it didn’t.

At least not in the same way it had once used to, and even though the repulsion and hatred still lingered; it was now clear to you that something had shifted.

So with a heavy feeling of uncertainty and confusion, you were left with nothing but your own thoughts and the memory of Heeseung’s touch, his rough fingertips digging into your skin and his tongue dancing with your own - you realized that Heeseung was, indeed, the root of most of the problems that occurred in your life.

For once, you thanked Heeseung for once again making your life difficult, as Friday night rolled around and you had the perfect excuse not to attend Chenle’s weekly parties. This time, however, it wasn’t Chenle who wanted you there; it was Sungchan who had begged you over the phone to show up, that he wouldn’t survive without you being there; to which you only replied that he shouldn’t go if he felt that way, because you weren’t going to show up.

You should’ve known that life always seems to have different plans for you, though. Especially when the clock hit midnight and Sungchan’s contact info had taken up the screen of your screen multiple times within the span of two minutes, and you realized that perhaps you shouldn’t have thanked Heeseung - because at the end of the day, he never failed to ruin your life in one way or another.

You had yet to know just how and what he had done this time around, and something was telling you you were about to find out.

‘’Please Y/N,’’ Sungchans pleading from the other side of the phone was starting to get on your nerves, a low groan leaving the back of your throat as you rubbed your eyes. ‘’I’ll do anything, just please come pick me up,’’ Your best friend’s begging, muffled by the sound of loud music and people yelling in the background left a sour taste in your mouth. You truly weren’t planning on going.

‘’Well,’’ You let out with a sigh as you kicked your feet off the side of your bed, ‘’I told you not to go in the first place.’’ Sungchan just sighed at your remark and even though you couldn’t even see him, you knew he was rubbing his forehead in annoyance. ‘’Dude,’’ He let out, ‘’Just come pick me up.’’ You shut your eyes, deciding that maybe you owed it to him; he had been there for you more times than you could count, and maybe picking him up from a party he desperately wanted to get away from was the last you could do.

‘’Fuck you for ruining my Friday night,’’ You groaned as your feet hit the floor by your bed, running your fingertips through your hair as you spoke. A small chuckle was heard coming from the other side of the phone. ‘’We’ll go get some snacks and hang out instead, okay? I’ll treat you to it, consider it a token of my gratitude.’’

His words caused a small smile to form on your lips and you realized that maybe you just had to spend some time with your best friend in order to oppress the heavy feeling that had settled inside of your chest.

Chenle had always been a terrible drunk, something you had first realized the first time he got drunk and he cried in your arms; leaving you and Sungchan to take care of him. Now, years later, it seemed like nothing had changed; despite his position as a declared fratboy.

Especially as you walked down the road leading to the party, spotting Chenle hanging off Sungchans arms as you got closer; and you suddenly felt thankful that you decided to stay home, knowing you’d be in Sungchans position if you would’ve caved in and listened to Sungchan’s pleading for you to go with him.

‘’Gosh, how much has he had to drink?’’ You mumbled as you got closer, Sungchans head snapping in your direction as your voice echoed through the empty stress; almost blending together with the loud music coming from the house a few feet away. Sungchan let a sigh mixed with a chuckle as he desperately tried to hold onto the boy hanging off his arms, ‘’Enough to be blabbering about random shit.’’

A chuckle trailed off your own lips as you scanned the boy, his head low and trying his best to stand upright, failing miserably to do so, and if it wasn’t because of the grip Sungchan had on his arms; he most likely would’ve hit the ground a long time ago.

Your sudden presence, however, seemed to catch the drunk boy’s attention; his gaze shifting from the ground to look at you, and you almost frowned as his eyes widened in what could only be described as pure shock. ‘’There she is!’’ He exclaimed, raising his hand to point at you; causing you to raise one of your eyebrows. ‘’You missed me that much?’’ You playfully let out, tilting your head as a small smile decorated your lips.

The dry chuckle that left Chenle’s throat took you by surprise, his gaze landing on the ground below him once more. ‘’No,’’ He dryly let out, ‘’Why the fuck would I ever miss you when you’re a liar?’’

The small smile that formed on your lips a few moments prior slowly faded, taken aback by the sudden words that had just trailed off his lips. ‘’’What?’’ You let out, your eyes landing on Sungchan; a low sigh leaving the taller boy's lips. ‘’I don’t know,’’ He mumbled, still trying to stabilize his drunken friend, ‘’He’s been going on about you lying to him all night, telling me I’m a bad friend for defending you.’’

The last words trailed off Sungchan’s lips in a chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at the boy hanging off his arms. 

You, however? You were far away from laughing, no, instead you felt your throat beginning to close up.

‘’Defending me from what?’’ Your words almost came out choked and you wondered if any of the boys picked up on the shakiness in your voice; hoping that Sungchan had more to drink than it seemed. ‘’He keeps talking about you and Heeseung, I don’t know where he got that idea from but I keep telling him to knock it off,’’

Your lips slightly parted, but before you could say something another dry and muffled chuckle left Chenle’s lips. ‘’They’re hooking up, you stupid fuck.’’

Chenle’s harsh words caused another sigh to roll off Sungchan’s tongue accompanied by an eye roll, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘’Dude, you’re just being fucking mean now, knock it off, I mean it,’’ Chenle just remained quiet as Sungchan focused on trying to get him to stand up straight, failing to notice the fact that you had gone completely silent.

Fuck.

Debating whether or not to laugh it off, you remained silent; praying that Sungchan would just shrug it off as Chenle being the terrible drunk that he was and scold him for it in the morning, when the sound of someone walking down the driveway suddenly echoed through the quiet road.

‘’There you are,’’ A chuckle filled your ears, ‘’How much did you drink?’’

At that moment, you realized Heeseung had indeed found a way to ruin your life once again; this time by walking down the driveway with his hands shoved down his pockets. Chenle just mumbled something inaudible into Sungchan’s arms in reply, causing another snicker to leave Heeseung’s lips as he got closer.

The snicker, however, went silent as soon as his eyes landed on you and you wondered if your sudden presence took him by surprise - or if it was the distressed look on your face that made his laughter die down.

‘’We’re leaving,’’ Sungchan let out, his voice monotone as he spoke. ‘’Can you take him back inside and make sure he sobers up?’’ Heeseung tore his eyes off of you, looking over at your friend before letting his eyes dart down to the boy hanging off his arms, nodding his head. ‘’Yeah, whatever,’’ Heeseung mumbled, getting ready to grab onto Chenle to bring him inside.

Oh, how you wished he would’ve done just that.

You wished he would’ve left as quickly as he came, that he would’ve taken Chenle inside, that he would’ve left you and Sungchan alone so you could go hang out and forget about what had just happened; that Sunghcan would’ve just assumed that whatever Chenle had said about you and Heeseung was nothing but drunken rambling and years of built up annoyance from the hatred you shared for his friend.

But of course, things never seemed to go your way whenever Lee Heeseung was present; your current situation being no exception.

‘’No,’’ Chenle mumbled, standing up straight as his eyes landed on Heeseung. ‘’Tell him.’’ Heeseung just raised one of his eyebrows, his hands still in the air from trying to grab onto his friend. ‘’Tell him what, dude?’’ He questioned and as his eyes suddenly landed on you, you realized he knew exactly what the boy in front of him was talking about.

‘’That you and Y/N are messing around.’’

Silence.

Complete, utter silence.

Until Heeseung shrugged his shoulders, his eyes still glued on you; and by the small, playful smirk that had begun to form on his lips; you felt your world slowly come crumbling down around you.

‘’You haven’t told him yet? Hiding things from your best friends now, are you Y/N?’’

And just like that, by letting one simple sentence trail off the tip of his tongue, Lee Heeseung once again reminded you of just how cruel he could be.

‘’Fuck off Heeseung,’’ Sungchan suddenly hissed, his eyes glued to the boy standing beside him; his harsh words causing Heeseung to stare at the boy in front of him with raised eyebrows. ‘’You really didn’t know?’’ The chuckle that left Heeseung’s lips following his question caused a shiver to run down your spine, accompanied by the realization that both your best friends were about to find out what you had been hiding from them.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Heeseung’s eyes landed on you once again and you could tell he was amused by the clear state of distress you were in; his eyes scanning your wide ones before darting down to your shaking hands. ‘’Go on Y/N,’’ He chuckled, ‘’Tell them, tell them how you’ve been messing around with me.’’

You weren’t sure if the tears that were now prickling in the corners of your eyes were from anger or distress, feeling the need to grab onto Sungchan and get as far away as possible; to tell him Heeseung was full of shit, that you hadn’t been messing around with him - anything to get away from the situation that was currently unfolding.

But instead, you remained standing, feeling glued to the ground as you realized there was no way out. Heeseung had caged you in, and by the amused look in his eyes; you realized that this was how he enjoyed you the most. Having you caged in, never letting you out of his grasp.

You tore your eyes off Heeseung, only to be met by Sungchan looking straight at you. And the moment your eyes met his, you swore that if your whole world hadn’t already crashed around you yet; it most certainly did the moment you spotted the confusion lingering in your best friend’s eyes. 

He knew, and you knew he knew.

Even though your lips were parted like you were about to say something; you knew you didn’t have to say anything, he could easily tell by the tears threatening to spill past your lower lashline and your apologetic eyes. ‘’Are you serious?’’ He breathed, his eyes still glued on you; causing you to bite down on your lower lip. ‘’I was going to tell you, I promise,’’ You let out, your voice shaky from the sudden confrontation and overwhelming feeling of being exposed.

You tried to decipher the look on your best friend's face, to no avail. His lips were slightly parted and you wondered whether it was disappointment or hurt lingering behind his soft features. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

‘’What the fuck,’’ He let out, shaking his head and you realized it was indeed disappointment lingering behind both his facial expressions and words, causing you to shake your head. ‘’Let’s go talk about it, yeah? I’ll explain, I promise,’’ Your voice almost broke as you spoke, the desperation and panic being evident in your voice as you so desperately tried to get your best friend to listen to you.

Slightly furrowing his eyebrows, he just stared at you; watching as your bottom lip quivered and tears threatened to drop onto your cheeks. ‘’No,’’ He let out, grabbing onto Chenle once more, ‘’No, I’m not doing this shit,’’ He mumbled, tearing his eyes off of you before wrapping an arm around the boy leaning into his arms.

Your eyes followed his every movement as even more panic settled in, he wasn’t going to listen to you. He wasn’t going to let you explain, let you explain why or how this happened in the first place; no, he was simply just going to leave without letting you explain. 

‘’No, Sungchan,’’ You desperately let out, a broken chuckle emerging from the back of your best friend's throat interrupting you. ‘’Fuck you, Y/N, and fuck you too, Heeseung.’’ He spat, his gaze landing on you before letting his eyes dart to the lanky boy standing beside him, the boy who had remained quiet ever since he exposed your shared relationship.

Almost reaching out to grab onto his arm from preventing him from leaving, you raised your hand; just to retract as quickly as you raised it. There was no point, and you knew there wasn’t. He wasn’t going to listen to you, not right now.

Watching as Sungchan dragged Chenle back into the house, the loud music still being heard coming from inside; you were left alone, your eyes landing on the boy standing in front of you once again.

With a small smirk on his lips, he took in the state of you; his hands still shoved down the front pockets of his hands and the dangly earring that had once brushed against your skin as his lips left small kisses down your neck dangling from one of his ears - you felt disgusted. 

‘’What the fuck, Heeseung,’’ You whispered, your bottom lip still quivering as you spoke and a tear finally dropped onto the skin of your cheek. ‘’What have you done?’’ A low snort left the back of his throat as you spoke, one of his hands slipping out of the pocket of his pants before pointing at himself. ‘’Me?’’ He let out, both his eyebrows raised before shaking his head. ‘’This,’’ He let out, pointing his finger at you instead, ‘’Is all your doing, not mine.’’

Shaking your head, you let another tear make its way down your cheek as you stared at the boy in front of you in disbelief. ‘’You’re fucking cruel, Heeseung,’’ You let out, pointing your own finger at him as his hand fell down his side. He just stared at you for a moment, before a dry chuckle ripped through his chest.

‘’You were the one who was all over me, Y/N, don’t you dare blame me for fucking over your friends by lying to them, that’s all on you,’’

His words caused you to chuckle in disbelief. The chuckle was dry and if you would've looked close enough, you would’ve been able to see that Heeseung was taken aback by your sudden laughter. But you didn’t, no, instead you inhaled through gritted teeth as your pointer finger came into contact with the boy's chest. 

‘’You are fucking miserable, you know that?’’ You hissed, your voice shaky as you spoke. ‘’All you fucking do is ruin things, Heeseung, not only for others but for yourself,’’ Heeseung just stared down at you as you continued speaking, your pointer finger hitting his chest repeatedly as fresh tears dropped down your cheeks. ‘’You’re cruel for leading me on, you’re cruel for even coming onto me in the first place,’’

Looking up at him, you shook your head. ‘’And this? Whatever this is,’’ You continued, pointing between the two of you, ‘’It ends now.’’

Another snort was heard coming from the boy standing in front of you. ‘’Whatever this is? This is nothing, Y/N, there is nothing to end,’’ He spat at you, ‘’There was never anything to begin with.’’

Feeling like someone had just struck you with a knife, jabbing it deep into your heart before twisting it; you just stared at the boy in front of you. His face remained emotionless as your fingertip remained pressed up against his chest, clenching your jaw before letting your hand fall down your side. ‘’Fuck you, Heeseung,’’ You whispered, scared that your voice would break if you spoke any louder, ‘’Fuck you for even coming into my life.’’

Walking past him, you let your shoulder brush against his own; the impact causing him to lightly stumble; slightly turning his body to look at you while you walked away from him, using your fingertips to desperately wipe away the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

With an aching feeling that had now settled deep into your chest, replacing the heavy feeling that had once lingered; you realized that Heeseung had managed to take you down one final time.

it’s finally saturday night and after a dreadful week of classes and assignments, you were finally able to let loose and relax.

per usual, you found yourself in the dimly lit living room of some frat house, along with your best friends jay, jake, hee and sunghoon. all five of you are completely drunk off your asses (and partially high), laughing and retelling stories that happened during the week.

with your head literally spinning in circles, you lay onto jake’s shoulders to rest your eyes a little, hoping to sober up enough for a few more drinks. but even in your drunken state that you noticed something or should you say someone, staring at you from the side.

park sunghoon.

in fact, sunghoon had been eye fucking you the whole night. from the moment he and the boys arrived at your apartment for pre drinks, up until now, you swore you always felt his eyes glued on you. maybe it was your short outfit that caught his attention (hell, it caught everyone’s attention!) or perhaps he wanted something else.

and now that you were both shit faced, it seemed as though he also became bolder. the handsome man was now gawking over your body, his eyes plastered onto your bare legs that barely hid underneath your dress. if the other three boys weren’t so drunk, you’re sure they would’ve noticed the weird lingering tension by now.

“i need to pee, i’ll be right back...” you turn your head and whisper into jake’s ear. it’s not like you really needed to go, you just wanted to go get your head straight a little and perhaps away from sunghoon before you end up doing something you’ll regret.

“no way missy, you’re shit faced. i’m coming with you.”

“jake. mate. i’ll be fine-”

“i’ll take her,” sunghoon suddenly interrupts your little conversation, the man now standing right in front of you with his hand out, ready for you to grab.

you don’t even think about it and immediately hold onto his hand, allowing him to pull you to stand up against his body. your body is suddenly hot, sweat forming in your palms but it’s not because of the party or the alcohol.

it’s because of park sunghoon.

sunghoon wraps one arm protectively around your waist before guiding your weak body towards the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. you could feel your legs wanting to give out numerous times, thanks to your shitty tolerance and these high heels you swear you’ll throw away once you get home.

you were never one to wear heels but tonight you felt bold. it actually took the whole day to decide on your outfit, finally going for the one short dress you owned from years ago and a pair of heels you’ve never worn.

but what was the reason for the sudden change?

of course it’s because of the very person helping you to the bathroom right now.

“hey,” sunghoon’s low voice knocks you out of your daze, just for you to realise that you both were standing in front of the bathroom in the dark hallway, “need help?”

you sluggishly shake your head and take a step forward, only to lose your balance on your devil heels. but sunghoon is quick to act, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist from behind and pulling you back into him, your back hitting into his chest.

“maybe i do need help...” you whisper to him pleadingly, your tone oozing with desperation but you don’t even care at this point, “can you... help me sunghoon?”

“of course i can, princess.”

you gulp at the pet name, one he has never called you by.  jake was the only one in the friend group that called you a bunch of random pet names, love, angel, sweetie. on the rare occasion, jay or heeseung would call you sweetheart but never sunghoon. never.

and before you could respond, you were pulled into the bathroom. you’re now standing with your back pressed up against the door with park sunghoon towering over you, his hands gripped onto your waist and with that infamous smirk at the ends of his lips.

god that smirk always does things to you.

he doesn’t even give you time to speak before smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you with such urgency like he had waited to do this for a long time. the kiss is nothing but rough, your bottom lips instantly feel sore but you don’t want him to stop.

both of his hands are quick to make its way down to the back of your thighs, grabbing them to lift you up into his arms. he does this with such ease, his eyes and lips never once leaving yours.

the roughness of his clothes rubbing against your inner thighs and clothed core has you unknowingly whimpering, a sound you definitely knew he appreciated with the way he’s smiling so proudly into the kiss.

“sunghoon...” you’re already a mess at this point and the man had only kissed you. your arms are wrapped around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life, desperate for more. a lot more.

“princess you’re making it a lot harder for me to refrain myself.”

“from doing what?”

“from completely ruining you,” the boy presses his lips onto the side of your neck as he speaks, his tone so deep and husky that it sends shivers through your body. those words alone were enough to have you leaking through your panties, those words that you would’ve never expected to come from park sunghoon’s own lips.

you’ve always had a little, tiny crush on him. you remembered him walking through your apartment door the very first time, a year ago. at the time, you had invited your best friend, heeseung over for a chill movie night and surprisingly enough, the boy showed up with three of the hottest boys on campus. jay, jake and sunghoon.

and the five of you have been inseparable since, always hanging out after classes, going on impromptu road trips together and of course, partying together almost every weekend. it was always just fun and platonic, until you found yourself paying more attention to one of them in particular. park sunghoon. you would subconsciously wait around to talk to him more, sometimes you would accidentally graze your hand across his, other times you’d accidentally bump into his body.

but never in a million years did you expect tonight to happen, to have sunghoon all over you instead of other much hotter girls at the party. kissing you, holding you against his body like he only wanted you.

you let out a gasp when he suddenly sets you down onto a cold surface, which you assumed was the vanity. your legs are still wrapped tightly around his waist, further pulling him in against your core that yearned to be touched. it ached, begging to be played with, to have sunghoon work your pussy until you’re crying for him to stop.

your naughty fantasy only saved for the privacy of your bedroom was becoming all too real.

while his lips are working yours, one of his hand is now at your thigh, caressing the soft skin with his fingers. your entire body is burning, wanting nothing more than for sunghoon to take you in some frat house’s dingy bathroom. and sunghoon knew this very well, the smug grin on his face tells you that he’s pleased with your reaction to his touches.

“s- sunghoon...”

“you’re so fucking hot. i can’t believe i waited this long, i should’ve fucked you that first night at your apartment. in your cute little pink pyjamas, god i want to fuck you in that.”

before your hazy mind could even wrap around his words, you felt his hand in between your legs, his thumb pressing against your clothed pussy. the man yanks the thin piece of material aside without hesitation, easily pushing two fingers into you with how wet you already were for him.

whimpers and groans fill the bathroom as sunghoon’s lips move down the side of your neck, leaving behind a trail of marks you know will get you questioned by your other best friends tomorrow. but that was a problem for tomorrow. all you could think about right now was how good it felt to have him manhandle you without care, to have him be so rough with your body.

you naturally throw your head back against the mirror when his fingers push even deeper into you, much to the man’s liking. how someone could do so much with just two fingers, you don’t even know but sunghoon was definitely an expert.

“you must cum to thoughts of me fucking this pussy every night, right princess? you’re definitely not as innocent as heeseung says you are.”

gulp.

you’re definitely embarrassed by his words, being exposed so blatantly by the one person you hoped would never find out. but it’s not like it wasn’t true, hell you had even touched yourself to the thoughts of sunghoon just this afternoon.

“sunghoon... please-” sounds you didn’t even know you could even make are pouring from your lips as the man continues roughly working your pussy, his pace only increasing to the call of his name.

“if you’re like this with my fingers, how will you take my dick?” you could hear the smirk in his voice, his tone playful with a hint of dominance. your head is spinning, your eyes completely shut from how good it feels with the addition of his thumb rubbing your clit.

his lips, his dirty words and his fingers prove to be too much for you to handle because it’s not long before you feel the familiar knot in your stomach.

“sunghoon i’m- i’m almost...”

“you’re gonna cum for me? all on my fingers?” his low chuckle in your ear has your fingers gripping his shoulders even tighter, almost clawing at his skin now but the man doesn’t seem to care, “look at you. you’re such a good girl for me.”

his thumb pressing down on your clit and his fingers curling deep inside of you is what finally brings you over the edge. your body is shaking from the sudden intense feeling of so many different emotions, a feeling you haven’t felt in such a long time. it’s one that has you seeing stars, one you definitely don’t mind having again with the help of your best friend.

“you okay?”

“yeah...” your voice was barely audible, almost in whispers as you lay your head onto his shoulder, allowing your body to relax after all that. 

“well it’s not over yet,” he says with a devious smile, his lips now hovering just above the tip of your ear as his hand reaches for the back of your neck, gripping it harshly. the surprised gasp you make causes him to laugh, his hard on that’s grinding against your thigh twitches a little too obviously, as if pleased with your reaction, “it’s only just the beginning.” 

Without sparing you a glance, Heeseung walks ahead of you to the laundry room leaving your thoughts to run rampant. Jungkook hasn’t come home for break since beginning University 2 years ago. 

It’s almost been easy to pretend the first love of your life never even existed.

Almost.

“Haven’t seen him in so long..” You offhandedly mutter(lying through your damn teeth), half plotting how to set up hangouts at your best friend’s house while his brothers around. “Last I heard Jungkookie’s been getting tattoos.” 

Whistling, you lean against the dryer as Heeseung begins to hurl towels into the wash rather aggressively, tight lipped flexing the muscles along his jaw. “I guess he always had that bad-boy vibe, it was about time he saw a professional instead of giving himself another awful stick-n-poke.”

Heeseung sighs, standing up with slumped shoulders. “Who cares.”

“Dude, what’s wrong?” it’s not uncommon for your best friend to do a poor job of concealing his emotions, especially after years of knowing him better than most of your family, you can easily pick-up on the immediate shift in his mood.

“Hate that he’s coming home.” He mumbles, slamming shut the wash. “Jungkook this, Jungkook that,” rolling his eyes back, Heeseung chokes on a sound of irritation. “Whatever, you wouldn’t get it.”

Pinching at the baby fat left on Heeseung’s maturing cheeks, you let out a soft laugh, jeering him in a pitchy tone. “Awww, someone's jealous of their big brother.”

Heeseung snakes your wrist faster than you can react, always one to have faster reflexes than you, tongue rimming the inside of his bottom lip. “I’m not jealous.”

Continuing on with your playfulness, you ignore the slant his eyes give, the gritty way his teeth grind. “Sound jealous to me. Awww, is the baby upset because his big brother’s gonna come home and kick his ass at Overwatch?”

Heeseung’s palm slaps around your forearm before you can cup his cheek with your other hand, controlling you with a firm hold to press against your lower half trapping you against the dryer that rattles against your lower spine in a full spin cycle. “I have no reason to be jealous of Jungkook.”

That’s right, no reason, none at all. Not even the one reverberating vibrations against his groin, batting naive puppy eyes at him to plead your way out of this one. Especially not because of your near life-long crush on his sibling, not at all.

Heeseung sucks in a breath when you shift to dislodge your spine from digging into the dryer, inadvertently shoving the top of your thigh against the bulge that’s formed between his hips. “I guess that’s true..”

Freeing from his grip, you reach to fix his bangs that have hidden his forehead, stroking down his cheek to flick at one of the many hoop cuffs adorning his ears. “Weird to be jealous of someone you try this hard to emulate.” With a push of your butt you manage to escape his hold, leaving him awestruck by the comment; giving you only a few seconds to try to get away before arms loop around your waist from behind.

“You little!” Heeseung’s non-threatening tone erupts laughter from your chest, shouting for mercy to be released as he heads for the backyard door to drag you near the edge of the pool. “Take it back!”

“Hey! Imitation is the highest form of flattery afterall!” 

A gasp of surprise is the last you hear before water fills your ears, managing to cling onto Heeseung well enough to lose his footing and fall in with you. Soaked head to toe as you both emerge sucking in deep breaths of air.

“You jerk! It’s freezing!” Dragging yourself to the steps, Heeseung’s hands catch your ankles before you’re able to make a run for it, knowing you well enough to see the gleam in your gaze to race out and lunge yourself onto his freshly cleaned linens.

“I said take it back!” Arms return to your waist, pressing your back flush to Heeseung’s chest.

“Been working out?” You ask, tilting your chin up to peer at him upside down, tracing the lines of muscles twitching along his forearms.

About time you noticed, he thinks. “No more than usual.”

“Hmm,” shifting back, you try to recount the last time Heeseung felt this sturdy and broad. “Maybe Jungkook will have a worthy fight in store for the remote control for once.”

“Shut up.” Heeseung says flatly, pushing you toward the steps to get out as he follows after you, clothes clung to his frame.

“Touchy subject,” with lifted palms feigning innocence, you blink, apprehensively stealing glimpses downward as his fists work to wring out the heavy t-shirt plastered to his muscles. New muscles, definitely bigger, thicker, more defined muscles. 

“What?” Heeseung asks, breaking your observation with flushed cheeks and irises bouncing around. A nervous habit.

“When did you..” trailing off, you reach for the rounded bump lining his upper arm, pressing your fingers into the side to feel up the muscle contracting under the weight of your grip. “..get so buff?”

Heeseung has to bite the backs of his tongue to stop the grin pulling up the corners of his lips, adding tension to his bicep, earning an impressed ‘ooooh’. 

He shrugs, confidently allowing his shirt to outline the abdominal muscles he’s worked on every night the last few months. “Nothing compared to Jungkook though, right?”

The cocky twang lacing his speech has you looking over his expression, coughing as his gaze flickers away and heads inside without waiting for your response. Knowing better than to grace you with a minute to analyze his expression.

University, living in a big city, finally you were going to live your dream. 

Most people feared to be lonely under the enormity of the big towns, but you weren't one of them. Ever since you were little, your dream was to move somewhere ostentatious and build yourself a life there.

And now that you've passed the university entrance exam successfully, it didn't have to stay just as a dream, but you got the chance to make it your new reality, your new life.

There was so much that the city had to offer and so much to discover, but out of everything you imagined, not once it crossed your mind that a shitty sleep schedule would be one of the things you'd get to try first — to be more exact, you didn't think it would be the only thing you were going to experience in the expand of 3 months.

Yes, it's been three months since you've moved into your luxurious flat with so much hope, but it didn't take long for them to fade away, thanks to your dickhead neighbor and his night time activities.

So, the richer people were the bitcher they got, it seemed, at least in where you lived. And to your luck, one of the biggest jerks of the century was living just next door, ruining your newly starting college life.

Jay Park was the name of the douchebag that turned your nights into hell especially during exams weeks, his timing was really on point when it came to having sex, which made him the villian in your story who was responsible of your chronic fatigue.

Because unfortunately the walls here weren't super thick, you knew, since you could hear every little call of the name of God coming from the girls he was busy screwing. 

At first, you found it amusing, you weren't gonna deny that. 

You were a virgin and a curious one at that so, yeah, you had your fair share overhearing their explicit dirty talk and even masturbated to the sinful sounds that resonated through the walls of your bedrooms. 

Not the best move maybe but, could you really be blamed? 

But as the time passed and nothing changed, the fun you were having started to fade away, which soon turned into a problem, a big one, since you were waking up sleep deprived every day. 

There was no need to mention how much this situation decreased the quality of your life and ruined your plans to conquer the city, meanwhile you were forced to witness his eccentric adventures every single damn night reluctantly. 

But the thing you didn't understand was that how did he manage to have a normal day after spending a wild night, and doing it almost every night?

How could he have such a high libido?

As funny as it will sound, you really were struggling to ignore the urge to just knock on his door and ask him exactly that, because you were more than curious, you were fascinated. 

Yet, as impressive as that was of him, it didn't change the fact that he was no better than an average guy around your age so, Jay Park wasn't in your circle of attraction, you could say.

 At least for now.

"I fucking hate my life!" You screamed on your bed, tossing and turning around for the millionth time.

Yes, right guess, you couldn't sleep, again.

Why? Oh nothing, just Jay and the girl he was fucking decided to make a radio broadcast from their bedroom to yours — to the whole building, actually. 

"Oh my God!" came the scream of the girl through the walls behind you, making you wanna pull your hair out of your scalp until you were completely bald.

You were honestly wondering, questioning every choice you made until now to figure out what kind of a mistake you made to be punished like this, with a neighbor like Jay.  

And as if his existence itself wasn't enough, your bedrooms were actually next to each other, only divided by a seemingly very thin wall.

Dear God, you thought, what did I do to deserve this?

You got up scoffing on your bed and started hitting the wall behind, hoping it would be a sign for them to shut it. But not to your surprise, it went unnoticed and if anything, they got only louder. 

Okay, it was enough, really. 

You've been dealing with this shit for months now and there was absolutely no crumbs of patience left within you neither for him nor for his stupid dick.

So, you decided to do what you should've done months ago and ran to your door, not caring about being only in your silk shorts and undershirts, you stormed out.

Forgetting your keys inside, of course, in the process because luck seemed to have a beef with your existence.  

A few fierce steps later you were at his door, banging on the metallic surface with your fists, ringing the doorbell like a lunatic at the same time. Well, to be precise, lunatic would be an understatement, considering how fucking crazy you looked and acted right now. 

After five minutes, a blonde girl opened the door half naked, sneaking out as fast as she possibly could without even looking you in the face. 

"Huh," you let out, so it was her who was screaming as if she was being tortured. You watched her walk away with an unimpressed face, judging her hard on the inside for having no shame nor respect whatsoever. 

While you were busy being distracted going all on morality queen over some girl you didn't even know, he came, the man of the night, the guy you wanted to strangle to death — your beloved neighbor, Jay.

"Well well, look who's here.." He spoke, looking as if he was pleased to see you, eyeing you up and down. ".. how can I help you, my lovely neighbor y/n?" 

Okay firstly, what the fuck? How did he know your name? And secondly, what was up with the nickname?

"Oh, don't be so shocked sweetheart, of course I know your name .." He said as if he could read your mind,  leaning against the frame of his door, crossing his toned arms over his bare chest confidently. 

Wait, now that you noticed, he was naked, except for the towel he had around his waist. 

Holy fuck — he had abs, and by abs you meant very well defined 6 packs on his honey tinted skin. 

".. it's written on your door you see and plus, I've been waiting for you for a while now." 

Okay you had to admit, it was your first time seeing a guy half naked — seeing a guy as attractive — I mean as annoying as Jay half naked and truth to be told, it was surely messing with your head. 

Because for a second there you almost heard him saying that he has been waiting for you for a while now, and since that couldn't be what he really said, you had to be confused, right?

Yeah, you were confused because of the unexpected nudity, right?

"So are you gonna come in or you wanna keep chatting here, love?" He tapped on your shoulder, sly fingers playing with the strap of your shirt as he freed you from your internal crisis over the words he just said. 

Did he really  say he was waiting for you, and he's been doing that for a while? Fuck, what did that even mean, you kept asking to yourself as you slapped his naughty hands away from your body, making him chuckle and step back while signaling you to come inside once again. 

"Come on in, don't be shy, please."

You figured since it was late, nagging at him in the shared hall would be a discomfort for your other neighbors, and you'd hate to be involved in any situation with him. So, you took his offer and stepped in, walking only a few inches away from the door with no intention of staying there any longer than necessary, especially not when he was basically standing almost naked in front of you.

"I'm gonna make this short —"

"Oh I'm sure you will, but you don't have to stand there like this." He interrupted you, brushing the messy strands of hair on his forehead with his palms. "Just come in and have a drink while I wear something more appropriate, I won't eat you, I promise."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that." 

He giggled at your words, considering how you just busted him banging a girl, It was fair of you to say that, he thought.

"Well.." he spoke,  giving you a somewhat flirtatious look, ".. let's say that I won't do it unless you want me to, then." 

"How many neighbors did you say that you had before me again?"

You choked on your words, almost spitting your drink out, not wanting to believe your ears as he told you about the previous owners of the flat you were staying, almost sounding as if he was bragging about making them move out. 

Honestly, you started to really regret agreeing to come inside, but oh well, it was sort of too late now. You had to make do with what you've brought upon yourself.

"To be fair, I lost count, a lot of people moved in and out of your flat before .." He said as if it was normal, not showing any signs of shame despite the fact that he was the reason why people kept leaving. ".. until you came and everything changed." 

"How so?" 

"They all came knocking on my door after like two days .." He put his drink down, slowly walking up to you, standing close enough for you to flinch backwards. ".. but it took three months for you to do that." 

"And you're proud of this?" 

You pushed him away, unable to hide the disgust in your voice. The way he sounded so proud of himself for being a public disturbance was the ickiest thing you've seen a man doing, making you want to puke all over his stupid face. 

He smirked as if he was waiting for a reaction like this, cute, he thought, you were cute.

He  licked his lips, tilting his head before he spoke, "Not really, but it made me think y/n .." he closed the gap between your bodies again, looking down on you with sparks in his eyes. ".. I thought about why it took you so long when it took two days for everyone else to complain, and I think I've found the answer, do you wanna know what it is?" 

"Whatever, it's just nonsense —"

"I think that you found it amusing at first, in fact you were even interested, weren't you?" 

Fuck, he was smart. 

Unfortunately yes, he was right, you were amused but only for like the first week, okay?

It wasn't because you were a pervert or anything, it was just that well, you were a nerd for your whole life — lessons and exams were the only things that you gave your attention to, until now. 

But you've always imagined how it would feel like to be an adult, how it would feel like to experience new things, like intimacy and it wasn't your fault that sex was the perfect example for that so naturally, it got your curiosity up.  

So yeah, you've found it interesting that he had such an active sexual life at first, but that changed quickly after a week, once you started to feel the after effects of your sleepless nights because of him. 

And the fact that he could still act so cocky knowing damn well what he was making you go through made your blood boil, this adding up to your already pent up frustration causing you to attempt on slapping him, only to fail awfully once he grabbed your hands and pinned them behind your back, his face standing inches away from yours. 

Fuck, wasn't that just great?

"Ah ah y/n, no violence is allowed in this house besides from bedroom activities .." he whispered, blowing his hot breath against your lips, ".. got it, love?"

You weren't the type to lose your temper that easily, but right now you could feel tears swelling up in your eyes due to how angry you were getting. The way he had such audacity among his shitty personality made you wanna spit on his face, which he would probably like so, that wouldn't work out for you either. 

"Let me go, you fucking pervert!"

"Pervert? Me?" He hummed sarcastically, letting out a tender chuckle. "Then what are you?"

"What?"

"If I'm the pervert one for having sex .." he mummbled, ".. then what do we call people like you, who thinks they're being so sly while taking pictures of others having sex, without their consent?"

"I didn't — "

"I know you did, y/n, so save it." he cut you off by putting his index finger on your mouth, "I saw you taking them while I was fucking that one girl on my balcony and I wasn't gonna mind it .." he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he continued, ".. but if you wanna call me names, then sweetheart, I'm not gonna hold back either." 

Wow, in the names of all defeats, yours had to be the most embarrassing one.

Being caught while peeping on you neighbor fucking and not only that — he saw you taking pictures? Why couldn't the floor just swallow you up right now? 

For your defense, it was the first time you saw anyone having sex besides from the pornos you've watched, and like you've stated before — you were a curious fucking virgin, so you took some pictures, okay? Literally no biggie.

But still, it was a shame that you lost your only upper hand on him, which left only one thing for you to do — compromise and that is of course, if you wanted to have some peace after three damn months, you were indeed desperate.

"What do you want?" You gritted between your teeth, coming straight to the point. Since you both knew each other's dirty clothes, there was no need to waste any more time with formalities.

"Straight to the point, I like that." He whispered, his breath brushing past your lips, "Actually, I have an offer for you, which can solve your noise problem if you agree on it." 

"What is it?" 

He licked his lips, stopping for a second to enjoy the confusion on your face. You were just his type, from your head to your toe. He was forcing himself to not look straightly at your boobs right now, his mind already filled with the thoughts of sucking and marking them. 

And on top of all, you were a virgin, his favorite type of prey to corrupt. 

Ah yes, of course he knew. He could tell it from like a mile away, he could smell your innocence and that was only fueling his wildest dreams. 

"It's a deal actually and it's gonna be both to our advantage .." he finally spoke after what felt like an hour, teething his lower lip nervously. ".. you want to have quiet and peaceful nights and I wanna have sex, right?"

"Yeah and?"

"So what I was thinking is, instead of fucking different girls every time, how about I fuck you?" he blabbered out, not able to look you in the eyes as he felt the need to make a further explanation.

"I mean I'll be only having sex with you so, you'll no longer be bothered by the noise, you'll be happy and I'll be happy — it's a win win, am i right?" 

He was actually ready for all types of answers that you could possibly give, but to his surprise, you did the unexpected.

He was watching you, all puzzled, as you were laughing your ass off like a nutjob, trying to understand what was so funny about this situation. 

"And why are you laughing right now?" 

"I've seen so many dumb people .." you mumbled in between laughs, ".. but let me tell you, the dumbest among them has to be you." 

And now you were insulting him? In his own place? If only he could do something to put you in your place right now, he thought, something like fucking your virgin throat with his cock. But he knew that patience was the key and he was gonna get there, in time.

"What made you think that I, the girl who literally hates you, would say yes to sleeping with a manslut like you?" 

Well ouch, that hurt. 

Manslut? He had an active sexual life, he wasn't just sleeping around with everyone on the sight. 

Believe it or not, he was actually pretty selective when it came to the girls he chose to sleep with, if not, why on earth would he be wasting his time trying to convince you when you literally ruined his fun for tonight?

"Firstly, I'm not a fucking manslut .." He rolled his eyes, emphasizing on the word with a disgusted face, ".. and secondly what makes me think of it is you." he whispered, leaning over your defenseless body, making you shiver under his act. 

"I know you're a virgin y/n and considering how curious you were, enough to take pictures of me while having sex, I'm assuming you don't wanna stay that way now, do you?" 

Either he was a psychic or a genius with a godly talent of predicting to know everything about you like this, and even though you were terrified with this fact, you couldn't say you weren't impressed. 

He had to be stalking you for a while, you thought, but why was the thought of it making your heart flutter? 

You shook your head,  thinking you shouldn't go this far for a dick. No matter what he did to collect so much knowledge about you, did not change the fact that he turned your life into hell so, your answer was gonna be no.

 Ew, literally. 

"Just because I'm a virgin and I'm interested in having sex, doesn't mean I'll be down to do it with everyone, especially with you, since the only thing I'll be getting is probably gonna be  STDs." 

"Hah! STDs?" He let go of your hands, brushing both of his hands through his hair out of frustration, feeling hurt at what he heard.

What did you think he was?

"What do you think I am y/n, a prostitute?" 

"Basically yeah, If I'm being honest." 

"I can not believe that this is how I'm being treated for wanting to be generous and offer you a helping hand to lose that v card."

"How is it called generosity if the only thing you're offering is your dick, which is probably non-functioning and carrying all types of diseases that I can't even name?" 

"If my dick isn't functioning, then why are you here to complain about the noise hm, princess?" 

Okay, nice comeback, he had a point. 

"I can prove how well it functions to you right now you know, all you have to do is say yes." 

Although you were trying your absolute best to ignore the agonizing fact that you were almost tempted enough to accept his cocky offer for a second, you were sure the heat you felt on your cheeks was enough to give you away.

"I think I'll pass." you said, thankfully managing to curse the sinful thoughts in your head away. 

Realizing how weak your willpower was really disappointing if you had to admit, but you'd rather be having your little self-criticizing session at your own place, so you took quick steps to his door, wanting to get out before the devil tricked you into sleeping with him. 

"I'll give you two days to think about it!" he shouted behind you, watching your shy figure waddle towards his door with fast steps. He had to admit, you looked even cuter when you were confused like the spoken moment, as you turned to face him one more time, not understanding what he was talking about. 

"Two days to think about what?"

"About accepting my offer of course, you silly thing .." he responded, throwing you a pair of keys he picked up from the drawer, ".. also, have these, since you didn't bring yours with you."

"What? No, I have — " you shut up mid sentence, realizing that he was actually right and you were indeed missing your keys, after patting on your pockets in search for them.

You turned around and gave him an even more confused look, brows knitted together as you glared at him with questioning eyes. 

Shit, those eyes, the way they were so expressive made him unable to think anything else other than fucking you. 

"It's the spare keys for your place, I wouldn't want you sleeping on the ground today .." he giggled, feeling the need to explain himself, enjoying how your half pouty lips fell apart with shock due to his words. ".. unless, if you wanna stay here with me, darling."

Jay had spare keys to your house? And you didn't know?

"How the hell do you have these?" you asked, voice coming low since now you were feeling a weird emotion, something along the lines of terrified and excited, at the same time, completely ignoring the second part of his sentence.  

"I have my ways." He said, winking playfully, blowing a hand kiss to your way before you walked out. 

You huffed and turned around to get out, biting back a sheepish smile that threatened to form on your face as you heard him scream behind you once more, before you closed the door shut and left.

"Two days y/n, I'll be waiting!"

Two days, 48 hours, it was a short amount of time. Not that you've noticed it before you met Jay, though.

It's been exactly a week since the night he offered you a crazy deal, a one just expected from him. But to your surprise, he was really a man of his words, considering the fact that he actually kept them.

Two days, he was silent for two days just like he promised to you.

After the longest time, you've finally had some good night sleep, remembering how it felt to be peaceful. But your serenity didn't last any longer than that. 

Cause things went back to how they were, if not worse and he was back on the business. 

On the night of the third day, he was up until 5 am, wilding with not just one but two girls at the same time. It was the loudest he has ever been and you knew damn well that he was doing it only to get on your nerves, to provoke you — hell, to make you regret not saying yes to him.

The fourth and the fifth nights weren't so different except you managed to somehow pass out on your couch after having hysterics, ending up oversleeping and being late to your school. 

At night six, you were ready to raid his house and beat him, waiting on standby at the edge of your front door but for some reason you didn't know, he never showed up.

Which brings us to night seven, the present. 

You were sitting in front of your main door like you did yesterday, legs crossed on one another as you listened to the footsteps that came from the hall.

You managed to come home early from school today, which meant you had a chance on stopping Jay before he could even start his night time schedules. 

Since he was absent yesterday, you were guessing that he would show up with someone new to share his bed with for tonight — which you swore not to allow, not this time, not on your watch. 

You didn't know how exactly you were gonna stop him, but this bullshit had to end, so you were gonna have to figure out a way. 

Well, there is a way actually, your inner voice resonated within you, reminding you of his small offer.

Honestly speaking, you didn't really have any good reasons to reject his offer — except for the STDs part, since you were sure having sex this often couldn't be healthy. 

But if you were to think about it, he was the type of guy that you'd want to have your first time with, and the only thing that was stopping you was your stubbornness.

First off, he was hot, that was undeniable. He was a jerk, yes, but even that added to his charms annoyingly. 

Second off, he was experienced, which meant he probably would know exactly how to handle you and fuck you just the way you'd want.

This was a big plus and to tell the truth, you were tempted by it. 

Last but not least, he was obviously good at what he was doing, he has proven it, judging by the fact that you were literally complaining about the noise he was causing.

Oh and not to forget, he openly shared his interest in you every chance he got, which was shameless, just the way you liked a man to be.

There was something about being desired that was such a big turn on for you, maybe the reason was because you've spent your entire life following your needs instead of your desires.

But for some reason, you felt ready for a change, and he seemed to be your main trigger ever since you've moved in, although you couldn't quite explain why.

Yet your answer to him was remaining the same, no.

Even though you could come up with so many reasons to just fuck him and get over with, you knew that you didn't have the balls to actually do it.

Well at least, that was what you thought.

You may have been a coward your whole life, but if there was one thing about humans, it was that they change. Sometimes sooner than they think, even.

Cause let's take you for example; just a couple of months ago you were a girl who avoided any sort of unnecessary interactions with the male kind, but right now, you were standing in front of the guy's door who literally offered you to be his sex partner, telling him to send the girl who he was with away so that you two could talk.

What was this called if not a change, huh?

He smirked as if he just won a bet, mumbling "Sorry, sweetheart, but maybe some other time." to the girl he brought with him before dragging you inside and closing the door behind you two.

He was quick to push you against the hard surface and corner you there, eyes glazing with lust as he spoke.

"Let's talk, princess, tete-a-tete."

Remember when you said your answer would remain as no to him? Well, that turned out to be bullshit.

Because right now, you weren't exactly doing something that a person who would strictly say no to Jay and his dirty offer.

You were on your knees, sucking on the length of his dick that you managed to fit in your mouth, stroking the rest by using both of your hands.

He was leaning against the counter in his kitchen, praising you in between low growls, giving you step by step instructions on how he wanted to be touched. 

Since it was your first time, he was going easy on you, only for today, trying his best to not just hold your head still and slam his dick in and out of your pretty mouth, forcing himself to be patient with you. 

And to be fair, considering how much he was trying to not cum, he could say you were doing pretty amazing, following his words like the good girl you are.

The view of you bobbing your head up and down on his cock as your small hands tried to cover up for the length you couldn't take in was breathtaking, making his thick shaft twitch in your mouth.

He threw his head back once you let his dick fall with a pop and trailed your tongue down on his length till you reached the base, licking a strap up back to his tip, repeating the same movement for a few times.

Feeling satisfied with his approving moans, you stopped, spitting on his dick and smearing it all over his shaft. You began to pump him, smiling now that you felt like you were getting used to it, deciding to rest a little since your jaw began to feel lull. 

As you were stroking him gently, slowly enough to tease him, you thought about how you managed to end your night here, before Jay's feet.

Well, it all started with him dragging you inside his flat, to talk, supposedly. 

You honestly should've known better, not that you were complaining about how things turned out, though.

So, what happened was, you tried to talk him out of this nonsense and told him to either stop or carry on with his disturbing night time business somewhere else.

You even offered to pay for his hotel expenses if he was desperately in need of having sex, you just needed him to not do it in his own house, not in the flat next to yours.

He never gave you a real answer, but instead he just laughed to your face, asking if you were gonna find the girls yourself for him as well.

Obviously he was mocking you so, before you got frustrated, you thought it'd be better to just leave but he of course, didn't let you be.

Instead, he chose to stop you before you could even attempt to grab the door knob let alone leaving, and pushed you against the counter he was currently resting against. 

Where were you thinking of going before paying him your debt, anyways? 

You weren't actually thinking that you could just cockblock him and then get away with it like nothing happened, right? Cause if that was the case, he certainly wasn't gonna let you, and so he didn't. 

But the crazy thing was, he didn't really expect you to agree with him, let alone doing it this fast. 

As soon as he told you that you had to give something to him in return for ruining his night, you said fine and asked what he wanted. 

He had to ask for a blowjob after that, it would only be fair, so he did. 

Yet to his surprise, again, instead of slapping him, you got on your knees and started unbuckling his belt. You also didn't know what the hell made you agree on such a thing, but God, you were so glad that you did. 

Now you knew why he was getting it every night, watching his handsome face in awe as you kept stroking him.

He looked unreal from your point of view, his bare abdomen shining under the dim lights of his luxurious kitchen. 

His neck was thick and manly, Adam's apple bulging against his skin. The moans he let out were deep and husky, sending vibrations to your vagina. It was safe to say you had a mini pool in your panties, soaking against your cunt deliciously.

He was bucking his hips against your palm ever so often, his climax closing by the minute that passed. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He said, voice cracking as he looked down on you, wanting to get your approval first.

You nodded and paced up, asking "Where do you want it?" as you looked up to him with doe eyes that he seemed to be growing fond of. 

"Your boobs, fuck, I wanna cum on your boobs y/n!" he shouted out, voice coming out shaky, the neediness in his tone flipping a switch that you didn't know existed within you. 

You reached your hand to the hem of your shirt, removing the useless piece of thin fabric as fast as you possibly could, unclasping your bra along the way as he took his dick over from your hands, pumping himself with pure desire in his eyes.

Once you were free from the clothing on your upper body, you kneeled down again, pressing your tits together for him to paint them with his load.

And so he did, finally releasing his seeds while moaning your name, watching how his pearl white strings looked on your pretty skin.

He took a good ten minutes to admire how gorgeous you looked all marked up with his cum, trying to resist the urge of taking a picture of you like that.

He pulled you up for a not so romantic kiss after, wrapping a hand around your throat as his other one found its way to your ass, squeezing your flesh strongly.

"Am I free yet?" You asked somewhat flirty, briefly breaking the kiss, wanting him to say no deep inside.

"No, I'm afraid not .." He whispered against your lips, hooking his arms under your legs, swiftly lifting you up from the floor as if your weight didn't matter. 

".. not until we're done cuddling." 

There was one thing people like you — cowards like you had in common, running away. 

Because that was exactly what you did after the crazy night you've spent at Jay's place, giving him your first ever blowjob and as if that wasn't enough, staying over the night to sleep in his arms while cuddling on his request. 

It could all be called lovely if only your senses didn't come back once you woke up, hitting you hard on the face with the reality of having his arms wrapped around your waist, a scream almost escaping from your mouth while he was holding you like one of his favorite plushies. 

With the panic wave that washed over your body, you did the only thing you could think of, which was getting out of there immediately. 

Now, it has been two weeks and you were at your parent's, visiting them with the excuse of missing them too much. 

But even though running away was enough of a solution for two weeks, it wasn't enough to change the fact that you had a school to go to and classes to attend.

Thus, you were basically forced to face the reality  that you were trying so hard to avoid — you had to go back to your home, where Jay was. 

And as if that wasn't hard enough for you to deal with, your father was there to unknowingly make it worse, by booking a ticket for you —  for tonight, in two hours, to be exact.

So, it was safe to say that these were probably your last peaceful minutes, if it could be called that way, considering how you left Jay alone. 

Jay wasn't the type to be left behind, in fact, you were the first woman to leave his bed without him asking for it. Now that he thought about it, you were also the only woman that shared a bed with him excluding sex, which made his heart sink once he opened his eyes to see the side you were laying on empty. 

He was offended, no, he was hurt — really really hurt. 

There he was, giving you the best of aftercares by letting you snuggle in his arms, being highly considerate towards you since it was your first time.

While he was thinking you actually enjoyed how intimate he is with you, turns out he was wrong, since you basically ran away without even bothering to tell him a single word. 

The word pissed wasn't enough to describe his emotions, and adding your two weeks of absence on top of all, it wasn't hard for him to be outraged.

He craved revenge and the only fair way for him to take it was by fucking you until you passed out on his cock, making you scream his name until you lost your voice.

Anything less than that wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, he was determined. 

However, Jay wasn't a man with patience, in fact he hated waiting — especially if it was for  something he never had to wait for before, in this case it was you, a woman.

If he wanted to be with women, he simply would, that was how it's been until he met you. Simple and neat, just the way it should be. 

But you came around and ruined his order, giving him mixed signals here and there. 

Ugh, he felt like losing his mind, thinking of all the things you've done to him over and over again, replaying everything in his mind for the nth time. 

First, you were screaming and nagging about him for being a loud manslut, telling him how annoying it was to be his neighbor. 

Then, you dared to come and cockblock him after ignoring the offer he made to you, which was very generous of him by the way, as if you had any rights. 

But what annoyed him the most was the last thing you did, which was agreeing to give him head without making him try hard for it. Considering how all of this happened in the expand of a week, he had every right to be frustrated and confused by what you were trying to achieve. 

I mean, why did you even suck him off in the first place?

He knew that he was the one that offered it to you, but honestly, he did it more to annoy you than to actually get you on his cock. The thing about him was, somehow in a way he didn't like, he had developed a thing for you, which made him weak.

You just were, so interesting. 

You managed to flip the switch of his curiosity from the minute he saw you, making him become obsessed with you . And when you actually accepted his offer and just touched him, gave him the most memorable oral of his life despite it being your first, that made him become attached to you, he guessed.

Because he couldn't think of any other reason behind him asking for cuddles when you were done, ugh, the memories of your cute giggles as he carried you to his bed not leaving him alone for a minute, not even for a second. 

All of this was annoying beyond words, but well, two weeks was enough for him to make peace with his obsession for you.

He was addicted to you in a very unhealthy way, he was aware, which made him do crazy things — like finding another pair of spare keys to your house, him using them to sneak into your flat every night to see if you were home yet. 

Tonight was the night his wait was gonna end, since you were back, as you were currently trying to find your keys to open the door. 

He was sitting on the big couch of your saloon like he has been doing for the past few days again, an excited smile taking over his face as he heard the noises that came from you behind the door. 

You were finally home, ah, he couldn't wait to see the expression on your face.

It was worth all the wait, he thought, watching you squeak and flinch once you walked into your flat, dropping your bags due to how shocked you were. 

"Welcome home, sweetheart." He spoke, not moving from where he was sat, dark eyes following you carefully as you tried to close the door with your shaky hands. 

What was he doing here and more importantly, how was he even here? 

"What are you doing here?" You managed to let out, surprisingly sounding stern although you were feeling nothing other than anxious, thinking it probably was the after effect of the shock that your body was under. 

"Waiting for you of course, what else?" 

He got up, walking up to meet you in the middle of your corridor. With his height and sharp features, it was easy for you to feel small before him, his intimidatingly handsome face making it very easy for him to obtain dominance over you. 

Yet you were stubborn, enough to not let him get under your skin, he was invading your home and you most certainly was not gonna let him get away with it. 

"And why on earth would you be waiting for me?" 

You crossed your arms, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to stand as strong as you could. One side of you was telling you to kneel to his feet and let him do whatever he wanted to you, since you could guess what he was here for, and honestly you didn't feel like rejecting some good dick either.

"For the second part of our deal, love .." He whispered, playing with the strands of your hair, ".. the part you made me wait for fourteen fucking days." 

"I don't recall agreeing on any deal with you." 

"Oh yeah? Do you recall sucking my dick, hm?" 

That was it, you've consumed every single drop of his patience once again. He grabbed your jaw as he gritted out his question, digging his nails into your flesh while holding your chin up to remain the eye contact with you. 

"I bet you do, you seemed like you were enjoying the lolli a little too much .." He purred against your lips, his plump ones brushing past yours. ".. so much that you even stayed for after, to sleep with me, in my bed and in my arms." 

"Please, I only did that because you begged me to." 

Tendency to speak big words in the most nerve wracking moments was one of your worst habits, yet Jay wasn't at all complaining about it. In fact, he found it quite amusing, thinking how fun it would be to fuck your mouth after all the talking you did. 

He chuckled in a low tone before landing a soft slap on your cheek, the hand he kept secure on your jaw traveling to your neck, pressing on the sides as he pulled you even closer to him. 

"Is that why you dipped on me, huh?" he asked, his voice somewhat carrying a hint of pain. 

"Why, are you hurt that I left you?" You kept your guards up, tilting your head as you continued your mocking, "Ah poor baby .." you cooed at him with fake sympathy, ".. don't tell me you cried after me, hm?" 

You sure were better than Jay at this "provoking" speech type of thing — which he preferred to name it as a form of foreplay, a type he was new to. 

Admittedly, you had much smarter comebacks than him, but considering the fact that you were a virgin speaking big words when Jay clearly had the upper hand wasn't exactly the most clever thing to do, which you came to notice once he smashed his lips on yours, moving them hungrily as he held you still in your place.

His grip around your throat tightened as he maneuvered his tongue inside the cave of your mouth, not allowing you to withdraw from the filthiest yet the hottest kiss you've ever shared with someone. 

But to his surprise, you tugged on his hair and pulled him even closer, tilting his head as you bit on his lower lip. He gasped and let you suck on his flesh, feeling his dick twitch in his pants, wanting to get to the main point of his routine visits — sex. 

"Don't worry I didn't .." He moaned in between kisses, ".. but you will, tonight, on my dick as I punish you." 

"Punish me?" You tched, repeating after him as you rolled your eyes, feeling like you've underestimated the size of his ego.

"Oh no love, I'm not the one that's gonna get punished .." you pecked his lips, enjoying the puzzled expression on his face. ".. I'm the one who'll be giving it .." you trailed your hand down to his neck from his hair, wrapping it around his throat just as he was doing. 

"..  to you." 

Tonight had to be one of the biggest breakpoints in Jay's life, a renovation on his history of sex experiences. 

He, who identified himself strictly only as a dom, was sitting on your chair, completely tied to it, waiting for you to touch him. 

Yes, it wasn't his first time, but unlike his previous experiences, he felt like tonight wasn't gonna end up with him being left plastered and unsatisfied.

The way he was struggling to not beg you as he watched you bring out your fancy toys, heart beating out of his chest, was already a satisfaction enough itself.

You really had an impressive collection for a virgin, he could say; ropes, whips, blindfolds, handcuffs .. all taken out only to be tested on him. Although he was used to being the one in charge, he had no complaints about the position he was in nor did he want to switch places with you. 

All he desired was to obey you, surprisingly, and he had no other thoughts except for eating your pussy while he was watching you walk in circles around him with those high bottoms you were wearing, the sound it left on the floor being as endearing as the view in front of him. 

You were only in your matching black, plain but chic set of undergarments, swinging the small wip in your hand with a playful look on your face, making his dick twitch inside his boxers agonizingly. 

Honestly, you had no idea what you were doing, but you knew the most important rule about being a dom — confidence.  

Now that all the toys were out, you finally could spice things up and give the guy who was eye fucking you patiently something to be consent with. You actually had a fantasy you wanted to try and considering the desperation on Jay's face, you didn't think there would be any harm to give it a go.

So, you stopped walking and grabbed the blindfold from the desk behind him, making him fall out of his trance as he turned his head to see what you were up to. He chose to keep his quiet and observe you while you picked up the material and walked towards him, making him tense up unintentionally once you sat on his lap. 

"Wanna try this on, pretty boy?" you asked with a velvety voice, sending shivers down his spine over your choice of nickname. 

She's getting straight into it, Jay thought as he gave you an enthusiastic nod, unable to hide his excitement. He bit his lower lip and waited for you to finish wrapping the blindfold around his head, his eagerness increasing exponentially over the loss of his sense of sight. 

Once you were done working with the silky material, you got up, brushing the tassels of the whip on his skin, trailing it down slowly as you started to walk again. 

He was feeling smaller with every clinking sound your heels left on the floor, the urge to say 'mommy just fuck me already' growing within him alongside of his bulge. 

You stopped once the tassels were down enough on his body to touch his crotch, landing not so sharp of a smack on his thigh. He flinched with the sudden sting, a weak whimper escaping his plump lips.

"Did no one teach you that invading someone's house is a bad thing?" you asked with a stern voice, the mixture of the dominance in your tone with how strong your scent was on the tip of his nose making him wanna battle with the butterflies in his stomach.

Fuck y/n, he thought to himself, what are you doing me?

His silent state couldn't last much due to your dissatisfaction on not receiving an answer as you tugged on his hair, yanking his head back with a strong grip. His neck was so deliciously exposed before your eyes now, inviting you to have a bite from his honey like skin.

And so you did, sucking a dark purple mark on his sensitive spot.

"Answer me!" you gritted between your teeth, freeing his abused piece of flesh from your lips.  

"T-they d-did."

"Then why are you here, Jay?" 

You hit him again, this time on the other thigh. He yelped and squealed, bucking his hips up without his knowing, giving you an even more pleasant reaction than you were expecting.

He didn't know why, but he was so turned on, feeling himself leak inside his boxers for the first time in a very long time. You had to have a magic touch cause there were no other explanations for him to be by all means, miserable. 

"Because I m-missed you!" 

"Missed me?" You were caught off guard by his cute answer, feeling thankful towards the blindfold since it did a great job on preventing him from seeing how blushed your cheeks were.  "That's why you're here, huh?" 

He let out a hum, waiting for another hit that never landed. After a minute of silence he came to realize the lack of your hands on his hair,  feeling afraid that you left him again as he called for your name. 

"Y/n —" 

"Let me guess, you went through my stuff to suppress your longing, didn't you?" Your voice came for afar, cutting his sentence off before he could even start it. He didn't know when exactly you left his side but judging by the sound of your heels, you were coming back.

"Are these the things you used to entertain yourself while I was gone?"

You threw a handful of your panties at him after removing the fold rather harshly from his face, making him freeze with his jaw hanging loose. 

If he were to be honest, yeah, he did use them while jerking off to the thought of you, stuffing them inside of his mouth like a pervert. He wasn't proud of his actions, but he didn't regret them either. 

"I —" before he could begin to speak, you grabbed him by his jaw, making him unable to carry on with his words. Using your other hand, you quickly slid down your black silky panties, fisting it in your palm.

"I bet you miss the feeling .." you cooed against his lips after giving him a peck, shoving the material on your hold in his mouth. ".. here, it's wet with my taste this time, enjoy."  

It all felt like a dream, except he knew this was all real, because  the way he was feeling your slickness through the material in his mouth couldn't be the doing of his imagination. He could pop a boner just to that, but thankfully, you had more to offer him. 

He groaned, teething your panties as he watched you get rid of your bra while kneeling down before him, your small hands tugging on the waistband of his boxers to move them down at one go. 

His dick sprung free, looking angry with its tip covered in cum since he couldn't help but to leak some. You licked your lips to the gorgeous sight before you, leaning down to get a taste of him. 

You were feeling much more confident now, since the scenario you were playing was a familiar one, all the memories of you blowing his brains out two weeks ago flashing before your eyes.

You sucked on his tip gently like you did before, circling your tongue around his pink flesh to gather the coated up cum on your tongue. 

You hummed, pressing your tongue on the roof of your mouth, tasting him with a pleasant look on your face. 

Jay was at the verge of combusting, praying to God and hoping that you weren't hearing the way his heart was beating. 

"Like honey .." you murmured, ".. tastes so yummy." 

And with that you took his whole length in, inch by inch as you slowly sank your head on his dick. He was so thankful to be able to watch it all over again, trying not to buck his hips up cause he knew that would piss you off. 

But tonight, he wanted nothing more than to be a good boy for his miss, serving her just the way she would like. There was one little problem though, his lack of control over his vocal cords. 

He gave in to the magic of the moment, accidentally letting the pantie you stuffed in his mouth drop as he let out a loud moan, louder than his previous ones. 

He knew he was fucked the moment you looked into his eyes with your fierce ones, letting his dick slip from your mouth. He couldn't stop himself from raising his hips to regain the contact with your lips, though he knew it wasn't gonna work.

"Guess I spoiled you too much when I removed that fold from your eyes, huh?" 

You got up on your feet and pulled on the blindfold, lifting it up to where it previously was, settling on his lap as you did so. 

The moment he felt how wet you were on his leg, he hissed, thinking how great it would be to ram himself into that virgin pussy of yours. 

Ah, the thought of it had him drooling. 

"Much better .." you purred, leaving a wet kiss on his parted lips, ".. now, let's get to your punishment, shall we?" 

Jay loved your perspective on punishments. 

Because being in between your legs as you sat on his face while sucking his cock was the best way to be punished, in fact if he could, he would love to be punished every day until the day of his death. 

The only problem was that he still had that damn blindfold on and oh, now he was tied to the bed, not completely but partially. 

You had his hands crossed over each other and fixed against the headrest, which was a boomer considering how much he wanted to wrap them around your waist to press you more on his face. 

Maybe because it was all a new experience for you or because you didn't wanna go so hard on him, but for some reason you weren't even putting half of your weight on his face where his only wish was to be suffocated by your pretty thighs. 

In Jay's case, this was a first, since he never was a fan of the 69 position. It was just, too messy for him —  at least that was the thought he had, until tonight. Honestly speaking, he liked eating pussies yeah, but no more than he loved being sucked. 

However, that was before you happened to him. 

He could easily become a slave for you, for your cunt, only to get to taste you more. 

With all the changes you made in him, he was feeling almost like a virgin himself, discovering his sexuality once again, but in a much better way this time. All of the nights he went through your closet, smelling and mouthing your underwears had finally paid off and it was worth all the waiting he could say, now that he was having a feast on your pussy. 

But his state of bliss turned into torture once you moved from where you were sitting on his face and slid down on his body, stopping on his dick and beginning to grind on him painfully slow, just in a pace to poke his impatience. 

He wanted to just rip the ropes around his fists to save his hands, so that he could grab your ass and help you move faster on top of him. But unfortunately that didn't seem to be possible, which left him with only one solution. 

Begging.

Just when he was about to walk over his pride, his mouth open and ready to beg, he felt the bed shift with the loss of your weight. He cried your name out with worry behind the fold around his eyes, asking where you went and if everything was okay.

"Shh, I'm here." you softly whispered against his lips before stealing a sweet kiss, your hands busy spreading the lube on your slit that you inside the bathroom to grab. 

Yes, the moment was here, you were ready to lose your virginity and the lucky guy of the night was Jay.

You took a deep breath as you get back on top oh him, slowly sitting on his dick as you rubbed your clit to stimulate yourself, thinking it might have some soothing effect for your first take on penetrative sex.

After a while of humping on Jay's angry dick, covering his length with a mixture of the lube and your wetness, you lined his tip against your hole and began to sink on him really slow. He gasped along with you at the warm feeling, stretching your walls just perfectly. It felt bigger than you thought, you had to admit, making it hard for you to relax your muscles.

"Baby, shit, relax for me please, you're too tight!" Jay whined, his struggle to not cum inside you reflecting on his face. 

"I c-cant, you're too big for me, fuck!"

"Then let me help you!" 

You let his dick slip out of your hole as you leaned forward to reach his face, removing the blindfold from his eyes once again, needing some assistance to make this work. 

"How?"

"Untie my hands and I'll show you, okay?"

You tilted your head, hesitating to trust him. You wanted to be the one in charge especially since it was your first ever time, and you'd hate it if he was baiting you to steal it away.

At that moment he spoke, sounding as if he was able to read your mind. 

"I won't do anything you don't want, i promise .." he nodded with pure sincerity in his eyes, ".. just let me help you through it, you can tie me back to bed whenever you like, hm?"

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, I just wanna see you enjoy it as much as I do, I swear."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice or maybe it was how soft his gaze was on you, but you chose to trust him as you untied the ropes around his wrists, freeing his hands with a feeling you couldn't define very well inside you. 

"Don't dive into thoughts .." he said, sitting up, placing his hands on your waist almost immediately, pulling you to rest on his firm chest. ".. just let me take care of you for now."

"Ah, ohmygod, Jay!" you moaned against Jay's lips in between sloppy kisses, hugging tightly on his strong shoulders.

You were sitting in a lotus like position on his lap, facing him as you grinded on his dick while he was fucking your cunt from behind with two of his fingers. 

"Does it feel good baby?" he asked, curling his digits inside you, scissoring them ever so often to help your walls stretch out. "Want me to add another finger?"

"So good .." you breathed out, nodding in agreement while you were resting your forehead on his, your fingertips trailing along the line of his strong jawline.

"Breathe in for me." he requested, tightening his grip around your waist as he got ready to slip another finger inside your virgin pussy, preparing you to take his dick. "Just like that, you're taking me so well, love." 

He lead you into a new pace on his hand, helping you bounce and guiding your hips. The intense eye contact this position granted you was the best and the worst thing, because under his reassuring gaze, you wanted to just give in to his touch and let him fuck you to his heart's wish right now.

As a lame attempt to snap out of it, you slid your hands down on his neck and wrapped your fingers around the width of his throat.

He let out a low growl as he allowed you more access, letting you press on the sides to challenge his breathing. 

He was doing all the work yet you were still the one in charge, the look in his eyes expressing his obedience almost perfectly. He was devoted to you, for this night and hopefully maybe some more, which he was not shy to fully own up to, not one bit. 

"I can't wait for you to do this on my cock." he mumbled, voice coming out husky due to the pressure on his vocal cords. 

"Maybe you don't have to." 

You shifted your weight and leaned on his chest, making him lose his balance and fall on his back on the bed. He let out a throaty chuckle once you held his dick and poked his tip inside your hole, shoving your fingers inside his mouth to suck at the same time. 

His hands were roaming all over your body, touching everywhere between your hips and boobs. He fluttered his eyes shut as you sank down on him once again, doing it much more easily this time. 

He moaned on your fingers as you swayed your hips on his cock, the tight embrace of your walls making him drool uncontrollably. 

You began to bounce on his dick with small moves, leaning down and removing your fingers from his mouth once you settled a comfy pace. You couldn't lie, watching the expressions on his face from up close was a different type of feeling, every woman on earth should once get to experience something as mind blowing as this, you thought deep inside. 

He opened his eyes when he felt your hot breath fanning against his face, hungry lips reaching to yours almost immediately to close the barely existing gap between your faces. He was trapping you in a sweet yet sloppy kiss, manly hands resting on your hips as you fucked yourself on his cock. 

"Dear God!" he whined into the kiss, holding onto your forearm with one hand when you paced up, pounding on his dick with a rather fast pace.

"Didn't take you for the religious type, Park." you swiped your tongue on his lower lip, licking a horizontal line from one side of his chin to the other. "Do I make you feel that good?"

"Yes, holy shit, you make me feel amazing .." he choked out, coughing once you pressed on the sides of his throat, making his eyes roll behind his skull. ".. you feel amazing, y/n."

"Amazing, huh?" you said, separating his hands from running all over your body, placing them where they were used to — pressed against the headrest. 

You grabbed the untied rope and wrapped it around his wrists once more, him showing no resistance making it easier for you to succeed a messy knot. "Do you think you deserve it though, hm Jay?"

"What?"

"After making my life a living hell for so long .." you spoke calmly, leaning behind and letting his dick slip out of your pussy slowly as you rested on his thighs. ".. do you really think that you deserve to feel amazing?"

"Fuck, please .." he pleaded, sounding desperate, struggling to keep his head up to look you in the eyes in hopes of getting you back on his dick. ".. I'm sorry, I really am."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you .." you got up from on top of him, landing on your feet as you left the bed, feeling a slight sting in your vagina while walking towards your closet. 

It must have been because of his horse cock, you thought to yourself, grabbing the dick ring from one of your drawers with a lock on it. ".. but I'm afraid it's not gonna save you from a real punishment, baby."

"A real punishment?"

"Mhm .." you hummed, standing next to his figure on the bed, showing him the precious gift you were holding in your hands for him. ".. you see, i'm a person who holds grudges, Jay .." you said, unclasping the flexible material before putting it around his base, paying attention to arrange the size since you didn't wanna hurt him by accident. ".. and you offended me really, really bad, baby."

"Fuck, how do you even have a cock ring?" he asked, visibly in shock, eyes looking at yours with so many unanswered questions. 

"Don't ask stuff that's not your business, yeah, love?" you mimicked his usual cocky tone, giving him a taste of his own poison. 

He nodded, throwing his head behind once you were done setting the toy on his cock, your hands gently stroking his rock hard length. He could feel himself getting even bigger thanks to your little present, his dick twitching in your hands as you used another layer of lube to make your movements go smoother. 

You rubbed his tip and spit on his slit, still standing on the edge of the bed as you leaned down to lick his head. He hissed with pleasure, feeling much more sensitive due to the ring on his cock. 

You traveled your tongue down on his girth, giving him open mouthed, gentle kisses until you reached his base. Your hands were everywhere on his body, feeling his abdomen and thighs spasm with every touch of your lips. 

He looked so fucked up from your point of view, eyes looking blunt while his lips were parted, letting out inaudible whispers and moans. 

You bobbed your head a few times on his dick as you massaged his balls, letting him fall from your lips after as you kissed a straight line from his crotch to his neck, finally stopping on his lips for a fervent kiss. 

"Are you okay, baby boy?" you asked, peppering kisses on the corner of his lips, stroking his dick with a slow tempo. 

From the way he was panting, you knew that he was far away from being okay, but the fact that he became such a mess because of you made you wanna edge him even more. 

"Please .." 

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"Fuck me, please."

You chuckled, pecking his lips, "Am I already not doing that?" you said, giving his dick a light squeeze. 

"I — need you — o-on my cock .." he stuttered, his breath hitching between words, ".. p-please, y/n."

You groaned, diving back on his pretty, blood red plump lips that were swollen due to your kisses. How could you say no when he sounded so needy while begging for your pussy? 

Fuck it, you couldn't wait anymore.

You cursed on the inside and jumped on the bed, placing your legs on both sides of his hips. His eyes were glistening as he watched you align his dick against your cunt, soon after sinking on him with a weak whimper of his name rolling off from your tongue. 

You began to bounce on him rather swiftly, no more patience left in neither of your bodies to stand any more teasing. 

His eyes were focused on your pretty tits as you kept moving up and down on his sensitive length, giving him an indescribable amount of pleasure with each slam. The guttural moans of your name he let out everytime your hips touched each other had you weak on the knees, making a familiar flame of knot burn inside you. 

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his firm abdomen, digging your nails into his flesh as you left long scratches behind on his glowing, golden skin.

He was so overstimulated, so much that for the first time he could remember, he wasn't even able to let you know that he was close. Instead he shot hot strings of his cum inside you with a choked out scream, his tied up hands and immobilized legs spasming altogether as a strong wave of orgasm washed over him. 

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm sorry —" he mumbled while shaking, his words getting cut by your lips as you caught his lips for your nth kiss of the day. He tasted so sweet that you couldn't get enough, the warmth he filled you up with making your heart melt at the pretty boy who was miserably apologizing to you.

"Shhh, you're okay." you soothed him, untying the rope around his wrists, freeing his hands and letting him hug you tight. His whole body was trembling as he held onto you, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

He never felt this vulnerable before, all he wanted was to snuggle into your arms until his muscles relaxed. 

You stroked his hair, playing with the short strands on his nape, whispering how good it felt to have him fill you up like this. You could feel his smile against your shoulders, soft kisses being placed on your clavicle as he encouraged you to cum. 

It was crazy how much you were clenching around him, feeling his heart beating so fast against your chest as his dick rested inside you having a magical effect on your pussy, making you cum on his request. 

The whole scene of you holding onto each other as if you were lovers was undeniably romantic, making you feel like the main characters of a movie. 

He was still panting, trying to catch his breath, shaky fingers drawing small circles as you laid on top of him while waiting to come down from your high. 

Once you both calmed down a little, you moved to get off from his chest, falling next to him instead. You laid on your abdomen to see his face better, reaching a hand on his dick to unclasp the ring, freeing his overly sensitive shaft from the small yet effective toy. 

"I'm sorry .."he blabbered as he watched you, pouting his lips and avoiding eye contact with you.

"For what?"

"I should have been the one taking care of you .." he spoke, sounding somewhat guilty, ".. It was your first time but I —"

"You did great .." responded, not letting him finish his sentence, lowering your head to leave a tender kiss on his abs. ".. I've always wanted to take care of a guy like this .." you smiled softly at him, ".. you just made my dream come true, Jay."

"Do you have any other dreams that I can help you with?"

He bit his lip, examining your face with curious eyes. The hit of shock that took over your expression almost made him regret saying what he just said, his heart feeling like exploding as he waited for an answer from you. 

"In which context, Jay?" you asked, lips slightly curled up in amusement, a dirty grin forming on your adorable face. 

"In any context that will make me keep seeing you like this."

"Are you trying to offer me something?"

"I already did .." he sighed, placing his arms behind his head, using them as a pillow to rest on. ".. but you left me with no answer, remember?"

"You didn't really seem hurt though .." you whined, placing your head on his chest. ".. fucking two girls at the same time, remember?"

"I was thinking about you the whole time though."

"Liar." you pinched his skin and attempted to get up from your spot, only to be stopped and get pulled back into Jay's arms once he caught you by the wrist. 

"Don't leave me alone again, please." 

His voice came out weak, scared even, giving you goosebumps over how sincere he sounded. Poor thing, you thought, you running away really did fucked him up, it seemed. 

"I'm not, I'm right here." you responded, laying back on his chest, hugging his thin waist that made you lowkey jealous for looking so pretty. You caressed his sides as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, tugging you first then himself after inside it. 

"So .."  you spoke, breaking the short-lived silence, looking up at him with doe eyes. " .. what does this make us?" 

"What do you want us to be?" 

"I dont know .." you muttered, trailing your fingers on the lines of his abs. ".. all I know is that I want you all for myself."

"You can have that."

"Can I really though?"

He nodded, looking down at you with serious eyes. "Yeah, because you're the only one I want too, y/n."

You giggled at his answer, nuzzling your nose against his toned muscles, making him laugh along with you. To him, you were the cutest thing in life right now and although his feelings for you were new, they were strong enough to make a total lunatic out of him over you.

"What, do you like what you heard, huh?" he asked, tickingling your belly, hands running down on your body to poke your skin, wanting to play a little with you. 

"Mhm .." you hummed in between laughs, trying to push his hands away from your body. " B-but, but I have something to ask you f-first!"

"What is it baby?" 

"How experienced are you with butt stuff?" 

He snorted at your directness, getting caught off guard by your unexpected question as he tried to figure out a non-awkward way to answer it. 

"Well, I mean I've been with women who liked it before —"

"No, I mean the other way around." You objected, shaking your head, shocking him with how serious you seemed to be looking about this. 

He wasn't even sure about what you meant by the other way around, how many types of butt things were there even? 

Were you not talking about anal sex?

"The other way around?" he asked, scrunching his nose, "What do you me— Oh," he stopped, finally understanding the meaning behind your words. "Y-you wanna try those butt stuff on me?"

"Only if you're okay with it .." you nodded your head, ".. but if you don't want it, that's okay too, since I can always find myself someone else to try it with —"

"I'll do it!"

"Are you sure —"

"Yes I'm sure, you don't need anyone else but me!"

You crawled on his body to reach his lips, chuckling at his silliness. He hummed as you enclosed your lips over his, sneaky arms gathering to wrap around your waist, pulling you more on him. 

He loved the feeling of your bare chest touching his, the sounds of your peaceful breathings making a beautiful harmony as his tongue danced with yours. 

He couldn't believe that he just agreed to get fucked with a fake dick for a girl, but as much as he was nervous, he was excited too, since you seemed to be so good at making him discover new likes about his sexuality. 

It was trust that he felt for you, along with his romantic feelings, making him feel safer than ever with you. 

"Don't worry," you whispered against his ear after breaking the kiss, talking as if you were able to read his mind and see his worries, your calming voice tingling in the air. 

"I'll let you pick the size, sweetheart."  

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