Nicole

Luka Doncic, who you met through a mutual friend on the team, Austin Reaves. Or well, you grew up with Austin and his girlfriend Jenna in Arkansas and stayed friends since then. After choosing to go to college in Los Angeles and stay there for your career (definitely not so you could go to Lakers games whenever they played at home), you were more than excited when Austin got drafted to the Lakers and him and Jenna moved there.

A few years later you heard about Luka Doncic, a guard from the Dallas Mavericks, getting traded for Anthony Davis. Despite being a big fan of basketball overall, you tended to keep up the most with the Lakers, especially since your friend played for them and you now got free tickets to go, so you weren't too familiar with Luka before he got traded.

Over the course of a few months, Luka and Austin became close friends. You'd hear things about him from Austin, see him play, and even awkwardly waved to him once after a game. You couldn't deny that he was on your mind more than he should be, it was like he was everywhere. And one time after having a drink or two while hanging out with Austin, Jenna, and a few more friends, you admitted that you had found Luka cute, handsome even.

Austin, who sees you as a sister, heard that and immediately threatened to tell Luka. That immediately sobered you up because you'd rather die than have the guy you've been subtly obsessed with over the past few months know about said obsession.

"Austin I swear on everything if you tell him anything you're dead."

"If I was dead who would get you and Jenna into games for free?" He laughs, raising an eyebrow knowing you really wouldn't do anything, "besides, he is single," he shrugs.

Your neck almost snaps at how fast you turn your head as this and ask with too much urgency than necessary, "he is?!"

Laughs are heard around the room as you realize how desperate that sounded, "wait!' you exclaim, "I didn't mean it like that..."

"Ummm yes you did," Austin corrects you, nodding.

Jenna chimes in, "you have a crush on him don't you?"

At this point your cheeks are flushed to the point where you're now holding your head in your hands, hoping that the attention on you will go away.

Trying to mitigate the situation, you look up, "I just want to get to know him ok? Maybe even be... friends?"

A scoff comes from Austin. "Yeah, friends, I'd like to see how that goes." Smiling like he's still trying to mess with you he suggests, "well, seeing how you introduced me to Jenna when we were kids, I suppose I owe you a favor. I'll introduce you to each other soon"

Not knowing what to say, your mouth just kind of hangs open while you try to process the implications of that.

"But..." you hesitate.

"But what?"

"I don't think he would be interested in me," you admit.

"I don't know... Luka's a bit of a wild card, you never know with him."

"Just, don't embarrass me Austin"

What you actually didn't know is that Luka was curious about you too.

The night he first saw you, he knew he was fucked. You were Austin's friend, you weren't just anybody, you're like Austin's little sister. He felt like he couldn't approach you, because, what if something went wrong? it would just make things weird with Austin, and he couldn't afford to make that mistake since he was brand new to the team.

So, he watched you instead. Every time you and Austin's girlfriend sat courtside or in the stands, you caught his eye. The night you waved to him once after a game he felt like his heart stopped and he couldn't react fast enough, so he simply just nodded at you in acknowledgement.

With the way you made him feel so powerless with just a glance, he honestly felt a little pathetic. He could probably get just about any girl he wanted, so why do you make him so nervous? The two of you have never even had a conversation, but he's heard your voice, seen your smile, and has been completely taken by your energy just by being shown videos by Austin or from social media.

Yeah, he's even stalked your instagram... After he nonchalantly asks Austin who was with his girlfriend in the stands after a game in the locker room, Luka looks you up as soon as he gets home. He looks through photo after photo, highlight after highlight with the biggest smile on his face like he knows you at all. His smile gets even bigger when he finds no trace of a boyfriend or any romantic partner on your page too.

But Luka would never admit he was so down bad for a girl he's never officially met.

So after a few months of making eye contact from across the court, awkward smiles, and staring at each other, he decides to make a move. Not directly, but in the only way he knows how in this situation.

The Lakers had just won a home game against the Bulls, and everyone was in great spirits, so, plans were made to go out nice restaurant and celebrate afterwards.

Jenna and you went home to change, deciding that your courtside outfits weren't good enough for a fancy restaurant in Los Angeles. You chose a basic yet classic little black minidress and elegant black heels. Nothing too showy, yet still extremely flattering.

Meanwhile in the locker room, Luka and Austin were getting ready themselves. Somewhere in between finishing up showering, getting dressed, and fixing their hair, Luka approaches Austin.

"Hey," he says quietly, not trying to draw attention to himself, "your girlfriend's friend, Y/N"

"What about her?" Austin questions, already knowing in the back of his mind what he's about to say, he's seen the way Luka gets nervous when he sees you.

"Is she...uh, single? Got a boyfriend or anything?"

"Why? You interested?" Austin says in a teasing tone, like they're in kindergarten and somebody has a crush.

With that, Luka decides he doesn't want to play this game anymore and just gets straight to the point.

"Yeah," he says matter-of-factly. "Introduce me, please."

"Say less, tonight at the restaurant? You better look good bro."

Luka just grins and nods. He finished getting ready, so he goes home to get one of his favorite cars to drive to the club, his custom black Bugatti Mistral.

A little more than a handful of Lakers started to arrive at The Green Room in Burbank, a rooftop lounge and restaurant, with their significant other or a friend one at a time.

Austin took you and Jenna to the restaurant and handed his keys to the valet. At the same time the valet took his car, another Laker showed up.

You hear the car before you see it, the roaring engine of the Bugatti making you turn your head immediately. The closer it gets the more you realize who's in it, it's Luka.

He gets out and gives his keys to the valet, greets Austin and Jenna and only nods at you, giving you a once-over. Which kind of discourages you, why couldn't he say hi to you too? You suppose you'll just wait until Austin introduces you to each other, but now you're not so sure it'll go too well.

Once you all get to the rooftop, you're greeted by the conversations and laughter of the other Lakers and their company. Everyone orders food, drinks, and looks to be having a really great time.

You sit at a table with Austin, Jenna, Rui, and his girlfriend. You're familiar with them all, it's comfortable.

But after a while all the boys end up at a table together talking and you're left with all the girls. Somehow while exchanging questions, stories, and laughter, one of the teammate's girlfriends mentions how Luka has been staring in your direction all night.

Turning to look at him you notice he is actually looking at you, but when you make eye contact his eyes widen and he quickly shifts his gaze.

You hear a mix of "come on bro" and "man up" from the guys table, but before you could comprehend why, Austin calls your name as he gets up from the table, followed by Luka.

"Hey, Y/N, come here for a sec, want a drink?"

Nodding, you get up and follow them to the bar. Austin orders a couple drinks, and you all stand around the bar area.

"I wanted to introduce you two, you know since I feel like you see a lot of each other." he pauses, "so Luka, this is Y/N, my childhood friend. And Y/N, this is Luka, my teammate. I'll let you guys do the rest."

He leaves to go back to the others, and at the same time the bartender slides 2 drinks to you, handing one to Luka, you offer a greeting, "hi."

"Hi," he takes a sip of the fruity concoction that Austin ordered. "I- um, sorry if this is awkward, I asked Austin to introduce me to you."

"You did?" you ask, genuinely surprised, wasn't he going to introduce you to him after you had accidentally mentioned your attraction to Luka? And wait- Luka actually notices you?

"Yeah, is that bad?"

"No!" you ex claim, hands waving in the air, "I just didn't expect you to notice me at all."

"How could I not? You're beautiful, very beautiful. Every time I saw you at games with Austin's girlfriend I couldn't resist from staring at you."

You're almost too stunned to speak, "oh, wow, thank you. Really? I could have sworn you were just like, indifferent to me or something."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want to mess up and ruin my chances with you."

"That's okay. The truth is I always noticed you. Ever since you joined the Lakers, I thought you were really handsome."

In the dim lighting you swear you can still see him blush, or maybe it's just the alcohol.

He clears his throat, "so, would you want to go on a date with me"

With widened eyes you nod, "yes, I would. What would we do?"

"Anything you want? Maybe dinner, or do you want to talk about it more at my place... tonight?"

You're surprised but also attracted to his sudden boldness, and the idea of going to Luka's house tonight doesn't sound so bad.

"Let's go to your place, I've been dying to sit in that Bugatti ever since I saw it."

He chuckles, grabs your hand, and leads you out of the restaurant. "Anything you want."

While driving to his LA house, you and him yell over the loud engine of the Bugatti. Exchanging compliments, telling stories, and laughing. He puts his hand out towards you, probably looking for you to hold it. But you instead grab it and set it in your lap, so he's now holding onto your thigh. He looks at you and smiles, but you can see the interest in his eyes growing deeper.

When you get to his house he puts the car in park and tells you to stay. You're confused, but you stay put anyway. He goes inside for a minute or two and comes back out holding a large bouquet. There's no way that's for you right? How would he even get that in time?

Opening the door, he holds out a hand to guide you out, then hands you the bouquet.

"For you."

"How did you even get this so soon?" It's really a beautiful bouquet, there's many delicate flowers wrapped in brown paper.

"I bought it before the game today, I knew Austin was going to introduce us somehow, so I thought I would get this just in case."

"They're beautiful, Luka. Thank you" you say, looking up at him with a grin.

He sets his hand on your lower back, guiding you, "come on, let's go inside. Do you want a drink?"

The next thing you know, you and Luka are sitting on his couch. Well, Luka's sitting on the couch and you're sitting on his lap. Both of you are nursing a glass of some fancy sauvignon blanc as you talk.

A bit tipsy you admit to him, "you know, a while ago I was with Austin and some of our friends and I had mentioned that I thought you were cute and Austin was like 'I'll introduce you.'"

"Ohh, so you were interested in me too?" One hand is holding onto his drink, and the other is keeping you place on his lap by gripping onto your hip.

Both of you are a little tipsy at this point, so all inhibitions are pretty much gone.

"Oh come on, anybody would be interested in you. You're tall, handsome, you've got good muscles," your arm grazes his bicep, "and you're good at basketball! You're the most perfect guy out there!"

He laughs, a small but genuine laugh that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Ok, somebody's had too much to drink," he grabs your glass of wine and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch along with his.

"I do mean that," you press, "I'm really happy Austin introduced us."

"Me too," he says, almost in a whisper. He brings his newly free hand to your face, holding it. His eyes soften as they fixate on your face. You can't tell if he's admiring you or examining you but it feels right. "You are so perfect," he says in that same quiet tone, completely taken by you.

With his hand on your face, he uses it to tilt your head up and closer to his, going in for a kiss. He kisses you softly at first, testing the waters, but becomes more passionate as you reciprocate each kiss.

You feel like a teenager again, making out on some guys couch. But he's not just some guy this time.

The kisses become messy and wet after a little while, your bodies moving against each other with each one.

Luka breaks the kiss, "do you want to go to my room?" he asks, short of breath, but with so much desire.

"Please," you whisper, and with that he scoops you up into his arms and takes you to his room.

He lays you down on the bed with him hovering over you, watching your every move. Going in for a kiss, he plants his hands onto your waist for leverage.

He moves down to your neck, kissing, sucking, and leaving marks while making you squirm and mewl. Stopping when he reaches down to the neckline of your dress, he looks up at you.

"Can I take your dress off? Please?" He looks desperate, but only for you.

With a nod, you lean up so he can reach the zipper in the back. He slowly unzips then moves to pull the straps down, and ultimately pull off the entire dress from your body.

Leaving you fully exposed besides from the thong you were wearing, Luka stares at your body, breathless.

"Oh my god, you're so beautiful, so perfect," he says as he goes to kiss your newly exposed chest.

He kisses all the way down your body and stops again when he reaches your underwear. Before he could ask, you're already pulling them off.

"Such a pretty pussy," he says as leans in closer, spreading and lifting up your legs over his shoulders.

He goes in and cages himself between your legs, starting to lick your pussy. He slurps up your arousal and continues to lick and taste all of you.

"You taste so good baby," he says, lifting his head up for a moment, only to go back in and continue eating you out like a starved man.

You let out a loud moan, hands reaching for his hair as he finds your clit, "Oh, fuck, Luka!"

He groans into you, the vibrations and his beard tickling you becoming too much.

Letting go of one of your legs, his hand snakes around to your now very wet hole. He inserts one thick finger inside of you slowly, then starts thrusting it in and out, matching the pace of his mouth on you.

"Oh my god," you pull on his hair and whimper, you never expected Luka to be this skilled at eating a girl out.

He slides in another finger, increasing the pleasure. At this point your legs are shaking and you can barely even form words, it's too much.

"L-Luka, fuck- I'm close," instead of pulling his hair, your hand weaves between it and holds his head softly, which encourages him to finish you off.

He finds that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers that makes you moan the loudest and presses against it repeatedly, all while sucking on your clit.

You moan out loudly, "I'm cumming, Luka," barely coming out before you cum on his tongue.

He continues to lap up any excess wetness throughout your orgasm, overstimulating you and making you shake more.

When you come down he gets up to clean you and himself up, his mouth and chin practically soaked.

"Wait-" you say, "don't you want me to-"

"No," he cuts you off, knowing that you were going to ask if he wants you to return the favor, "we'll save that for another day, I want to take my time with you," he smiles.

Once cleaned he lays down next to you and gives you a kiss on your forehead.

"Now, let's actually plan our first date," he says, making you grin and pull him into a soft kiss.

note: would anybody be interested in a reaves fic?

all the while, you're on a trip to ibiza with your girlfriends for a week, most likely sunbathing and clubbing until your mind is foggy and feet ache from standing with heels for too long. and yeah, he could do the same in LA— where it’s sunny and parties are thrown every other second with plenty of shots and girls. 

but none of them are you. 

and if luka’s going to drag himself out to a function he doesn’t even want to go to, he'd rather bare it all with you by his side. 

his phone shines bright in the dark bedroom, highlighting your recent conversation with luka. you haven't sent anything else other than the pictures you wanted his opinion on, asking which ones are "perfff for insta?"

he tried to pay attention. you've always cared about the aesthetic of your page, every post and caption particular to your vibe— he knew better than to steer you in the wrong direction. you look gorgeous, he thinks while scrolling through the bundle of pictures you sent, but his breath hitches when he comes across the second half of them.

different than your shots of you in flowy dresses, posing next to palm trees, behind sunsets, or a peek of the fancy dinners you've had— no, this was you, wearing the skimpiest bikini he’s ever seen in his life. it’s blue, his favorite color.

all he can do is stare at the sight, mouth open agape, literally analyzing every pixel on his screen.

it’s almost like you did this on purpose. like you knew he's been craving you terribly since you’ve been gone. 

again, he tries, really tries to hold himself back and be respectful. text you back, "these are fine," and ignore how his dick is straining through his boxers, begging to be touched. luka scoffs at the thought of him jerking off to you like some teenage boy. i mean c'mon— he's better than that.

but the way the blue straps of the bikini digs into your skin, emphasizing the soft rolls of your body? or how the cups barely cover your areola? don’t even mention the tan line he so desperately wants to trace with his tongue or how he's so jealous of the sand your ass rests on. who can blame him for you being so fucking hot?

his left hand rubs up and down his cock harshly, breaths sharpening when the other clumsily zooms into your chest, needing to have a closer look— only to throw his head back against the pillow, sharp eyes noticing that the camera captured your hard nipples. they’re poking through the fabric, practically begging him to wrap his pink lips around one and twist the other between his fingers. fuck, fuck, fuck. he can’t stop. 

and he doesn’t want to stop— it’s so shameful, but luka’s never felt better since you left. the sooner it’s over, the better.

this is really fucked up, he thinks. but his shame isn't enough to drown out how bad his heart yearns to be with you again. 

luka could rip that joke of a swimsuit off of you, while you scold him with a, "hey—! that was expensive!" but he'd continue anyway, muttering about how he'd buy you a hundred of the same pair to make up for it.

swim trunks kicked to the side, your boobs would be the first thing he goes after, wrapping his mouth around your nipples like he promised— mind fogged up, lips sucking and playing with them in a trance. maybe he’d graze his teeth and bite around the flesh, making you squeal out, but he'd kiss it better anyway.

or, what if, he'd sit up on the beach chair, his thick figure between your thighs, ready to indulge in your sweetness. luka would beg for just a taste, and you'd let him have it, needing to feel his warm tongue before he ruins you with his cock. 

or maybe, instead, he'd be too impatient to taste, quickly lining his cock against your wet pussy. his darkened blue eyes would watch every twitch of your expression as the head rubs between your folds, your composure crumbling each time he barely presses inside, and then pulls away. somehow, luka actually can hear you mewl below him, begging— "please, please, luka! need it s' bad!" it would be his punishment for you after keeping this heaven away from him for so long.

or, how about this? he’d just shove it in, not being able to resist your cries. luka can’t say no to you, after all. fuck you hard and deep, his body folding you in half on the flimsy chair, to the point where his tip brushes against your cervix with every thrust. "oh god, luka, right t—there!" and he’d smirk, and say, he knows. 

all he’d want to hear are your whimpers and thighs slapping against each other, like thunder echoing throughout the whole airbnb. he'd fuck you to the point where no other man could ever make you feel the same, beg him to cum inside, and mark you up forever.

and you'd be so tight, now that, he’s sure of. greedily sucking him in, not being able to pull out even if he wanted to. your walls all warm and ready for him to drench in his cum in, and god, he'd do anything for it to happen—

then in an instant, the sunshine, palm trees, and you, naked and wanting, disappear. mind blanking out as luka groans your name into the open air, whimpers leaving his throat rough and deep, jerking out his cum onto his sweaty chest.

the thick silence settles around him as he stares into the dark— only reminding him of how still, you’re not here.

is he pathetic for feeling this way? i mean, it’s just a week. he can totally handle a week. 

luka reaches blindly for a napkin on the nightstand, quickly wiping at himself before the sticky liquid dries on his skin.

as if the faster he wipes it away, it'll erase all the evidence of how much he misses you.

his phone dings from the other side of the bed— probably fell out of his hands while he was… occupied, knowing it’s you from the special ringtone he set on his phone.

"oh, i forgot!" you text him, and before luka can finish reading what you sent, 10 more attachments come through at once. 

"...fuck my life," he groans. 

the first photo is from behind. you're sat on the edge of the pool, water glimmering beneath you. your back arches just slightly, the curve of your spine drawing his eyes down, down to where the thin strap of the yellow and purple thong disappears between your cheeks, wedged in place as if it belongs there.

and again, luka can’t even comprehend what that bikini is supposed to cover exactly. 

he swallows. before he can stop himself from looking at you for too long, his cock rises back up, hard once again.

"i took more photos of myself today. what do you think of these?"

yeah. he's done for.

So now, you're walking with your sister and her puppy on a warm morning, about to turn a corner on the street when you accidentally run into a wall. Except it wasn't a wall, it was a person, a very tall person. You stumble back, about to fall completely, when the stranger you ran into grabs your arm and pulls you back upright.

While looking up to get a good look at this guy you become even more flustered than before when you realize oh, he's hot.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going. Are you okay?" he says with a look of concern, all while having to bend down to even get close to eye level with you. An accent can be heard but you're not sure what kind, just yet.

"I-I'm okay!" internally cursing at yourself for stuttering and accidentally raising your voice an octave higher, you offer him a warm smile, "thanks for catching me."

Now it's the stranger's time to act nervous, with a shy smile he answers, "Y-Yeah, it's nothing, it's my fault anyways."

Your sister, literally just standing there the whole time, catches the vibe and walks away for a little while despite her puppy being very interested in Luka's dog.

There's a beat of awkward silence before you interrupt it, desperate to make any kind of conversation with this handsome stranger. "Um. That's a really cute dog what kind is it?" Crouching down to look at it, you let it sniff your hand before giving it some pets.

He gets down on your level too before explaining, "he's a Pomeranian, only one year old, his name is Hugo."

With genuine curiosity and attempting to get further with him, you ask, "What's your name?"

At this point, Luka is 100% sure you don't know who he is, and you actually don't, given that you don't keep up with basketball at all.

"Luka. What is yours?"

"Y/N, I don't actually live here, I'm only visiting my sister, I'm from Los Angeles," you explain, a little disappointed that the chances of seeing him again are low.

At the same time Luka feels the same way, drawn to this girl he just met, wanting to know more about her. "Wow, that's pretty far, I go there for work every once in a while, what do you do for work there?"

"Yeah, it is far, but I love it. And I do PR for celebrities. Not the most glamourous job but I like it," you smile and look at him.

Both of you stand up after letting the dog have his moment, continuing the conversation you ask, "What do you do for work?"

Luka's not so sure what to say, being a professional athlete is intimidating to some, he doesn't want to scare you away. But you seem so genuine, so he decides to tell you anyway.

"I play basketball in the NBA. Do you know the Dallas Mavericks?"

"Um.... that sounds familiar I think, but that's really cool, I've actually never gone to a basketball game," you admit, feeling a little out of the loop.

He looks at his feet, nervous from the eye contact and you see his face go a little more red than before when he says, "Well, what if you gave me your number and whenever my team plays in Los Angeles I'll invite you to the game?"

Eyes widening a bit, you nod your head quickly, "yeah! That would be really fun!"

He lets out a small sigh of relief before pulling out his phone to let you put your number in, "and maybe in the meantime we can text and get to know each other?" He suggests, trying to express his interest.

Again, you nod as you put your number in, "of course, that sounds really good Luka." Handing the phone back to him, you look up at him.

"I'll text you, okay? I can't wait to see you, lepotica." His hand grazes your arm then holds it softly, lessening the distance between the two of you.

You're not sure what exactly he called you but the way he said it in that accent gives you butterflies.

"Yeah! I'll see you soon hopefully!"

Goodbyes are exchanged and you head back to your sister and her dog waiting across the street for you.

Since then, you and Luka have been texting and calling regularly. You find out he's from Slovenia and spent time in Spain playing basketball in the Euro League. He tells you about when he got drafted to the Dallas Mavericks and how happy he was. When he has a bad practice, you hear from him, and when he has a good practice, you also hear from him.

The texts and calls come more frequently by the second month, they're the highlight of your day. However, whenever you two talk, it never goes further than just light flirting. Given how far apart you two live from each other, it doesn't make sense to date for real. 'Friends is just' fine you tell yourself.

But the situation changed one day, when Luka had a particularly bad practice.

You knew he had an evening practice scheduled that day and judging that he hasn't texted you anything despite knowing practice is over lets you know he's probably not in the best mood.

By the time he got out you were all ready for bed, dressed in a short, light pink slip nightgown. After laying in bed for about half an hour and scrolling on your phone is when you received an incoming facetime call from Luka.

You answered the call, not really caring that your choice of pajamas was not so appropriate for someone you've only seen in person once, but fuck it, he's hot as hell! And, you know, maybe you can help him get out of his bad mood.

The call connects and for a second Luka looks a bit frustrated, his hair is wet, indicating he just came out of the shower. But after looking at you and seeing a little bit of the lace from your nightgown changed the expression of his face entirely. His mouth slightly drops, eyes widened, and eyebrows raised as you see him scan the screen.

"Hi krasen," he pauses, "you know... I actually had a bad practice and was in a shitty mood, but now, I might be the happiest guy ever," he says with a grin across his face.

You're laying on your side, chest slightly visible on camera, but you lean the camera slightly down, giving him a better view of your cleavage on display. You know what you're doing.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Mmmmm, I think you know why," he squints, knowing you're not at all ignorant to the situation happening.

"I cheered you up? Just by answering your call? I must be really special," you laugh.

"Yeah... you look really good- like sexy even," his eyes dart up and down between your face and chest.

Smiling, you adjust the camera, so Luka can now see your nipples hardening through the satin. "Sexy? Me? I'm just laying here, Luka"

He groans, "you know what you're doing Y/N...fine, I wont play this game, I'm getting right to it." With that he props his phone on his bed and takes off his shirt. He grabs his phone again before he can speak, you're already pulling down the straps of your slip dress in a teasing way.

"Do you wanna..." you start, not sure what the two of you are about to start doing.

"Mmmm... Phone sex?" he suggests, raising an eyebrow on his flushes face.

"I've never done that before Luka, what do I even do?"

"Just keep being sexy, talk to me, tell me what you would want me to do to you...maybe take off your clothes." he shrugs.

The awkwardness of the situation make you giggle, but somehow his nervous rambling still turns you on.

"Here," he starts," pull down your dress."

Grabbing the lace hem, you pull the neckline of your nightgown, showing off your boobs.

Luka lets out a deep sigh at this, clearly mesmerized by the sight before him. "God... I want you here with me so bad. I'd fuck you so good."

"Yeah," you say, barely louder than a whisper, then starting to move the camera down to your hips, where your nightgown is bunched up. You pull it up to reveal lace panties underneath. Spreading your legs, Luka can now see a small wet patch in your underwear.

"Are you wet?" He throws his head back and breathes out, "prekleto..."

"A little, but it's not my fault." Feeling a bit bold, you put one hand into your panties, playing with your clit. "Wish you were the one doing this to me." you moan out.

"Me too moja ljubezen, me too. Take those off and finger yourself for me."

You quickly kick off your underwear, though still wearing the nightgown, and begin inserting a finger inside yourself.

"Luka," you breath out, adding another finger, "would feel so much better if it was your fingers. Or your cock..."

"Yeah?" he says short of breath. This entire time he's been palming himself but now its his turn to lower his phone so you can see his dick straining through his shorts. "This is what you do to me Y/N."

He pulls both his shorts and underwear off at once, revealing his thick cock leaking at the tip.

Your breath catches, fingers still inside of you, "that's never going to fit inside me Luka."

He laughs, "Oh we'll figure it out one day ljubljeni, but for now just imagine me inside you," he starts stroking himself.

"Fuuuck," you moan out, "want that so bad."

"Mhm? Want me to fuck you? Want me to make love to you?" His strokes start getting faster along with his voice becoming breathier, making you even more turned on.

"Please Luka, I need you."

"Oh I know baby, just keep talking to me, keep touching yourself, I'm almost there." he coaxes.

"I need you here, stretching me out, fucking me deep until I can't take it anymore," you say breathily, on the edge of orgasm.

"That's right, ohh fuck, I'm gonna cum Y/N,"

"I want you to cum inside Luka," you moan out.

And that was it for him as you see him cumming on the screen, white droplets dripping down his cock and fist. At almost the same time, you tighten around your fingers, watching him watching you cum through lidded eyes.

It takes a minute of catching breaths and cleaning up for the both of you to realize what just happened.

He speaks first, "that was good."

"Yeah, let's do it again some time," you laugh.

You joke, but you both understand. This would be happening again. Whether it was on the phone or in person, this was too good to never do again.

Since then, you and Luka had this unspoken agreement. You two were great friends that sometimes went further than friends. Being each others biggest supporter and best friend while occasionally hooking up when one or the other was in town.

There were a few times during the preseason and official season that year that you went to Luka's hotel room. Half of the time you two acted like normal close friends. Because normal friends cuddle, kiss each other on the forehead, and fall asleep together. Right?

But the other half of the time, you two were like lovers. Never saying so, but definitely acting like it. Making love, making out, cooking for each other the morning after. You knew it was silly to have feelings for Luka, but you never wanted to do anything to jeopardize the friendship. Especially because of the benefits, but mostly because you genuinely care for him. You were fine without the label of boyfriend and girlfriend if it meant keeping Luka close to you.

The media also hadn't caught on yet. Since you lived in LA, you only ever went to games when the Mavericks played against the Lakers or Clippers, and when you visited Luka in Dallas, it wasn't to watch him play basketball.

During post-game interviews, Luka can sometimes be seen looking at his phone and smiling. An interviewer would ask a question but he always said it was something from a friend and denying any questions about a possible romantic partner.

The thing is, Luka felt the same way about you. Desperately wanting to call you his, yet terrified of losing you if something didn't work out. He too was fine with being friends with benefits. Deep down he knows that you won't stray far from him.

It was the very end of the 2023-2024 season and the Mavericks were playing against the Celtics in the last game of the NBA finals.

Due to work, you hadn't been able to go to the previous games despite cheering Luka on from afar, despite that the fact that the Mavericks were not headed towards a victory.

Sitting in a box with fellow family members and partners of the team, you watch as the Mavericks lose the 2024 NBA finals. The look on Luka's face crushes you, the anger, disappointment, and sadness all extremely apparent.

While he does a post game interview, showers, and gets ready to leave, you head back to his apartment. Not wanting to bombard or overwhelm him in any way, you sit on his couch awaiting his arrival.

When he finally comes home, he opens and closes the door quietly with a somber look on his face. You can't exactly read him to figure out if he's seething with anger or just sad.

Breaking the silence you speak softly, "Hi, Luka." You don't ask him any questions and you don't expect him to say anything. All he does is kick off his shoes, puts his bag down, and lays himself down on you. He moves you against the arm of the couch and inserts himself in between your legs with his head in the crook of your neck.

Your hands find their way to his hair, playing with it while your other hand rubs his back. He sighs deeply before talking softly, "thank you for being there tonight. Even though we didn't win."

"It's okay, I'm so proud of you either way. Making it to the finals is such an unreal accomplishment."

Neither of you say anything for a minute, but you feel him breathing against you.

"You know I think you're the greatest player of all time," you offer, breaking the silence while trying to lighten up the mood.

He sits up and looks at you with a big smile on his face despite tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Nah, that's Michael Jordan," he laughs, "but thank you, seriously. I'm just really disappointed in myself, I feel like I let everyone down."

The tears in his eyes start to fall and immediately you caress his face and start wiping his tears. You sit in his lap while he hugs you tightly, and again, your hands find their way to his hair, stroking it.

"You didn't let anybody down. Do you know how much everyone loves you? The team, the fans, your family. Everyone is so proud of you."

"I know-" his voice breaks, "I just wanted it really badly, not even just for myself, I wanted to win it for Dallas."

"You'll come back next season even stronger, Luka. I know you're capable of it," you encourage. At this moment, his happiness is your highest priority, all you want to do is make him happy.

"I'll try," he starts, "it's just going to take me a minute to get over the loss. But I'll definitely come back stronger next season, I'm getting that trophy for my team." He releases you from his hug to look at you, greeted by a smile on your face.

He then pulls you into a kiss, so passionate and deep it makes you feel dizzy. Continuing the kiss, one of his hands rests on your hip and the other grabbing your face. You feel him smiling into each kiss, rubbing up and down from your hip to your waist, and pulling your face even closer to his.

He breaks the kiss to speak, "God I-" he stops. More like he catches himself about to say something he shouldn't.

"You what?"

"I'm so fucking glad that you're here right now," he saves, "I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you with me today."

He's not lying, if you weren't here he would just be wallowing in his own self pity. But that's definitely not what he meant to say there.

"Yeah, whatever would you do without me?" you tease, "you know I'm always happy to be with you Luka."

Something shifts in his eyes, not bad, but something familiar. And it all makes sense when you feel his hard dick against your ass.

With you in his lap, it was easy for him to pick you up and take you to his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed in a similar position as before, with himself in between your legs.

He kisses you again, but this time it feels so much more intimate. He kisses your neck, leaving hickeys and drawing moans out of you. Putting his hands up your shirt, he pulls it off of you successfully

He fondles your boobs, skillfully removes your bra, and kisses your chest. "Fucking love these tits." He leaves more hickeys, taking his time enjoying you. Letting go, he takes off his shirt and pins you deeper into the bed by your waist. He attacks your chest again, kissing, sucking, and doing whatever he can to keep getting sounds out of you.

Your fingers trace up and down his stomach, then to the waist band of his shorts.

He smirks, “you’re so perfect, you know that?”

Looking up at him, you smile and bite your lip slightly, moving to tug his shorts and boxers down. His cock springs up, hitting his stomach.

Letting out a sigh, he grabs your hand and puts it on his dick. In response, you put your hand around it begin stroking it, feeling it throb in your hand.

He throws his head back and groans, "you're gonna make me lose control Y/N."

"Then lose control..."

"Alright" he pulls off your shorts and panties as once, "you asked for this."

He flips you onto your stomach and lifts your ass up a bit so you're now arching. He puts 2 of his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva, then glides them against your clit.

You moan and suddenly he inserts both fingers inside of you at the same time. He fingers you from behind for a few more moments, enjoying how you make pretty noises for him and occasionally look back up at him with need.

Using those wet fingers, he lubes up his cock, then all at once he slides his dick into you all the way.

He exhales at the sensation while you just about wake up the neighbors with your moans.

Starting slow, he begins thrusting in and out of you, with both hands on your hips/ass. Suddenly he speeds up, hitting all the right spots inside of you.

He smacks your ass, making you moan even more. "Yeah? You like that? Like when I smack your ass pretty girl?"

You look back and him and nod the best you can, "Yes, Luka, please keep going, faster!"

His thrusts become rough and fast, and you couldn't contain the pleasure you feel at this moment. With him taking his stress out on you in the best way possible, it was too much.

"Ohhh fuck...srček. You feel so goddamn good. Just sucking me in with that we pussy..." he groans.

You moan into the pillow resting underneath your head. Feeling yourself tighten around him.

All of a sudden, the warmth in your stomach grows stronger. "L-Luka, ohh. I-I'm- fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Go ahead baby cum all over me, I.. I'm almost there."

"Fuckfuckfuck, Luka! Keep going, I'm gonna cum!" With that and a few more thrusts, you cum on him, sucking him in deeper every time your pussy tightens around him.

He needs a few more thrusts before he comes undone as well with a string of mixed curses in English and Slovenian. He comes on your back and ass, jerking himself off to completion.

The sight before him is too much, wanting to keep it engraved in his memory forever. With a deep breath he asks, "Can I take a picture of this?"

"A picture of me with your cum all over me?"

"I mean... yeah, this is hot as hell. Might come in handy during an away game," he jokes.

"Go ahead," you laugh, and arch your back again for dramatic effect.

He cleans the both of you up before you fall asleep together, intertwined.

After that, the arrangement that you two held stood strong, remaining close friends despite the intimacy you shared some nights.

Often times, he teases you in Slovenian, not telling you what any of the words mean. So you take it upon yourself to start learning. Starting slow with beginner YouTube videos, buying a couple books, and learning from those online.

You learn basic phrases and vocabulary useful for traveling, but you can’t help but look up how to say romantic things. Words like baby, love, beautiful, words that you remember Luka calling you.

Not too far into learning Slovenian, you got the news. Luka calls you as soon as he finds out.

On the night of February 1st, 2025, you’re sitting on your bed, unwinding with a cup of tea and reading a book. Your phone lights up with a call from Luka, answering it immediately, you don’t even get a chance to say hi before you’re greeted by a frantic voice.

“Y/N, I just got traded. I got fucking traded.”

“What?!” you say, full of genuine surprise. Luka is well beloved by Dallas and his team. He’s one of the greatest franchise players of all time, why would they trade him. “Why would they trade you? Who for?”

“They traded me for Anthony Davis.” he says, sighing deeply. “I can’t even think right now.”

“Wait Anthony Davis? You’re gonna be a Laker?” You realize that if Luka was on the Lakers, he would live in Los Angeles too.

“Yeah, I guess.” He’s obviously upset, still coming to terms with it. “It’s not finalized yet but yeah, I'm traded."

"I- How do you feel?" The news is so unexpected, you don't even know what to say to this.

He exhales, "I don't know. But the first thing I thought of was that I'd live closer to you," laughing nervously he speaks again, "That's the bright side of this. But I think I can make the best of it being on the Lakers."

"I know, I thought of that too. I can go to all of your home games."

He smiles on the other side of the phone, "you know now I feel a lot better about the trade."

A little more than a week later, Luka is already about to play his first game as a Laker. February 10th, 2026, you're waiting for the game to start as you sit courtside - Luka's treat of course.

Nobody was too sure who you were. I mean, courtside seats are no joke, especially at a Lakers game. Were you a wealthy heiress? Underground celebrity? Or maybe, a girlfriend of one of the players? There's a blockbuster movie star and worldwide popstar sitting like 3 seats away from you, so... who even are you?

Truthfully, you were fine sitting in a box suite, away from the action. But Luka insisted that you be up close for his Lakers debut.

Throughout the game he was seen giving you a wink, standing near the area you sat in, and in general just looking at you. He wasn't distracted, you just gave him all the motivation he needed.

This was a pretty big gesture. To be seen by cameras as the one who has Luka Doncic's attention. This is intentional, special even. There are already people speculating on who you are to Luka. Are you the person who made him keep smiling at his phone during post-game interviews? The person he was randomly photographed with entering a fancy restaurant in Dallas? Are you Luka's girlfriend?

Opening up your phone during the half time intermission, you click on twitter, wanting to see what people are saying about Luka's debut.

There's a lot of good things, noting how he's finding his place on the team but still making a name for himself as a Laker.

But you pause when you see a picture of yourself, accompanied by a short clip of Luka winking at you after making a shot and you smiling in return. The responses to that post are theorizing about who you are, and to your surprise there's not really anything bad about you being said. There's actually a lot of compliments, including, "luka scoring on and off the court," which makes you laugh in your seat.

Smiling, set your phone down and watch the rest of the game. The Lakers win against the Utah Jazz by almost 20 points. Luka's smiling and looks to be having a lot of fun with him team, celebrating after a win.

After the game, you wait for Luka to finish with his post-game interview. You sit inside of your car in the Lakers garage, since none of Luka's cars have made it to LA yet due to how sudden the trade was. He wasn't even moved into his new apartment yet, so he's been staying with you for a couple days now.

You see him come into the garage, and you come out of the car to give him a big hug. He hugs you even tighter, lifting you up a little.

"I'm so proud of you," you say, muffled into his neck.

"Thanks for coming, baby." he whispers. "Now lets get back to your place." he beams.

You two could barely make it inside of your apartment. The door opens and slams as soon as you enter, with you being picked up and pinned up against it by Luka while he kisses you.

He takes you to your bedroom and almost throws you on the bed. The two of you waste no time as you both strip completely. Luka's already semi-hard, not needing much more to become fully hard with you naked in front of him.

"Lay down," you tell him softly, a bit shy.

"Hm?" With an eyebrow raised, he lays down against the headboard of your bed.

Standing up you crawl over to his spot on the bed and stop when your head gets close to his hard cock.

"Ohh," he says, understanding, as you put your hands on his thighs. Licking up from the base of his cock to the tip, you look Luka in the eyes, maintaining eye contact. You suck at his tip, making his eyes roll back into his head.

Then, taking his whole cock into your mouth and down your throat, your nose hits his pubes, fully taking his dick. Bobbing your head up and down while sucking him in has him grabbing and puling your hair, assisting you move up and down.

He moans, groans, and making literally every sound possible. "Fuckkk, you trying to make me cum already?" Pulling you off of his cock, and back towards him, he kisses you, hard and deep.

He flips you onto your back and lifts your legs up. He slaps his wet cock against your pussy, grinding onto you. The sensation of him brushing against your clit makes you quiver, gripping onto his bicep for support.

Eventually he inserts his cock inside slowly, with an obscene wet sounds coming from that movement.

Pushing your legs back for leverage, he starts fucking into you slowly. He makes slow thrusts, exhaling after each once, basking in how warm and wet you are.

Speeding up a bit, he stares at how your tits bounce between every thrust. He leans down to kiss you and stays there for a minute, still thrusting into you, foreheads pressed together, and enjoying the moans that come out of you.

"Ohhh Y/N, Ljubim te. Zelo te ljubim." He breathes out, looking into your eyes.

"Wait what?" You recognize those worlds. He just said he loves you, that he loves you a lot actually.

"Huh?" he says, stopping his thrusts, he assumes you don't know what he said before.

"You love me?" you look up at him, smiling, with all the hope in the world in your eyes it seems.

His heart drops, but he couldn't deny it at this moment when he felt so incredibly close to you.

"I-I do, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time now. I just didn't want to ruin what we have."

You only giggle at him, and he's not sure if he should he relieved or concerned.

"I love you too Luka. I've been learning Slovenian for you, and I guess it finally paid off," you catch him smiling, "tudi jaz te ljubim," you say with your American accent.

He laughs and grins into a kiss, pulling your face closer to kiss. "Let me show you how much I love you baby."

Gripping your legs again, he starts fucking you at the same pace as before, but this time his thrusts are much harder, much deeper.

"You feel that? You feel what you do to me? You feel how much I fucking love you?"

He maintains this pace, bringing you closer to finishing with each thrust.

Your eyes are rolling back at this point, unable to focus on anything but Luka.

"Fuck, yes Luka, keep doing that, don't stop!" you moan out while holding onto his arms.

"Ohhh, baby, I'm gonna cum already-"

"Cum inside, please Luka, please I need it so bad!" you cut him off, obviously close to finishing as well.

"Okay, whatever you want moj dragi." "Ohhh, fuck I'm gonna cum inside you Y/N, take it baby, take it." He cums inside in one thrust, pushing himself and pulling you deeper, trying to fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You can't even form words with the amount of pleasure you feel at this moment. You only scream out a moan when you cum, yours and his mixing together inside you.

You both are out of breath as he lays down on top of you, still inside of you.

Looking into your eyes with his own pleading eyes he tells you, "I do love you Y/N. I want you to be mine. Please be my girlfriend."

Forming a grin on your face you look back at him, "I thought you'd never ask. I love you more Luka."

He kisses you softly and lays into you then whispers, "good. 'Cause I'm not letting you go."

So now, you're walking with your sister and her puppy on a warm morning, about to turn a corner on the street when you accidentally run into a wall. Except it wasn't a wall, it was a person, a very tall person. You stumble back, about to fall completely, when the stranger you ran into grabs your arm and pulls you back upright.

While looking up to get a good look at this guy you become even more flustered than before when you realize oh, he's hot.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going. Are you okay?" he says with a look of concern, all while having to bend down to even get close to eye level with you. An accent can be heard but you're not sure what kind, just yet.

"I-I'm okay!" internally cursing at yourself for stuttering and accidentally raising your voice an octave higher, you offer him a warm smile, "thanks for catching me."

Now it's the stranger's time to act nervous, with a shy smile he answers, "Y-Yeah, it's nothing, it's my fault anyways."

Your sister, literally just standing there the whole time, catches the vibe and walks away for a little while despite her puppy being very interested in Luka's dog.

There's a beat of awkward silence before you interrupt it, desperate to make any kind of conversation with this handsome stranger. "Um. That's a really cute dog what kind is it?" Crouching down to look at it, you let it sniff your hand before giving it some pets.

He gets down on your level too before explaining, "he's a Pomeranian, only one year old, his name is Hugo."

With genuine curiosity and attempting to get further with him, you ask, "What's your name?"

At this point, Luka is 100% sure you don't know who he is, and you actually don't, given that you don't keep up with basketball at all.

"Luka. What is yours?"

"Y/N, I don't actually live here, I'm only visiting my sister, I'm from Los Angeles," you explain, a little disappointed that the chances of seeing him again are low.

At the same time Luka feels the same way, drawn to this girl he just met, wanting to know more about her. "Wow, that's pretty far, I go there for work every once in a while, what do you do for work there?"

"Yeah, it is far, but I love it. And I do PR for celebrities. Not the most glamourous job but I like it," you smile and look at him.

Both of you stand up after letting the dog have his moment, continuing the conversation you ask, "What do you do for work?"

Luka's not so sure what to say, being a professional athlete is intimidating to some, he doesn't want to scare you away. But you seem so genuine, so he decides to tell you anyway.

"I play basketball in the NBA. Do you know the Dallas Mavericks?"

"Um.... that sounds familiar I think, but that's really cool, I've actually never gone to a basketball game," you admit, feeling a little out of the loop.

He looks at his feet, nervous from the eye contact and you see his face go a little more red than before when he says, "Well, what if you gave me your number and whenever my team plays in Los Angeles I'll invite you to the game?"

Eyes widening a bit, you nod your head quickly, "yeah! That would be really fun!"

He lets out a small sigh of relief before pulling out his phone to let you put your number in, "and maybe in the meantime we can text and get to know each other?" He suggests, trying to express his interest.

Again, you nod as you put your number in, "of course, that sounds really good Luka." Handing the phone back to him, you look up at him.

"I'll text you, okay? I can't wait to see you, lepotica." His hand grazes your arm then holds it softly, lessening the distance between the two of you.

You're not sure what exactly he called you but the way he said it in that accent gives you butterflies.

"Yeah! I'll see you soon hopefully!"

Goodbyes are exchanged and you head back to your sister and her dog waiting across the street for you.

Since then, you and Luka have been texting and calling regularly. You find out he's from Slovenia and spent time in Spain playing basketball in the Euro League. He tells you about when he got drafted to the Dallas Mavericks and how happy he was. When he has a bad practice, you hear from him, and when he has a good practice, you also hear from him.

The texts and calls come more frequently by the second month, they're the highlight of your day. However, whenever you two talk, it never goes further than just light flirting. Given how far apart you two live from each other, it doesn't make sense to date for real. 'Friends is just' fine you tell yourself.

But the situation changed one day, when Luka had a particularly bad practice.

You knew he had an evening practice scheduled that day and judging that he hasn't texted you anything despite knowing practice is over lets you know he's probably not in the best mood.

By the time he got out you were all ready for bed, dressed in a short, light pink slip nightgown. After laying in bed for about half an hour and scrolling on your phone is when you received an incoming facetime call from Luka.

You answered the call, not really caring that your choice of pajamas was not so appropriate for someone you've only seen in person once, but fuck it, he's hot as hell! And, you know, maybe you can help him get out of his bad mood.

The call connects and for a second Luka looks a bit frustrated, his hair is wet, indicating he just came out of the shower. But after looking at you and seeing a little bit of the lace from your nightgown changed the expression of his face entirely. His mouth slightly drops, eyes widened, and eyebrows raised as you see him scan the screen.

"Hi krasen," he pauses, "you know... I actually had a bad practice and was in a shitty mood, but now, I might be the happiest guy ever," he says with a grin across his face.

You're laying on your side, chest slightly visible on camera, but you lean the camera slightly down, giving him a better view of your cleavage on display. You know what you're doing.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Mmmmm, I think you know why," he squints, knowing you're not at all ignorant to the situation happening.

"I cheered you up? Just by answering your call? I must be really special," you laugh.

"Yeah... you look really good- like sexy even," his eyes dart up and down between your face and chest.

Smiling, you adjust the camera, so Luka can now see your nipples hardening through the satin. "Sexy? Me? I'm just laying here, Luka"

He groans, "you know what you're doing Y/N...fine, I wont play this game, I'm getting right to it." With that he props his phone on his bed and takes off his shirt. He grabs his phone again before he can speak, you're already pulling down the straps of your slip dress in a teasing way.

"Do you wanna..." you start, not sure what the two of you are about to start doing.

"Mmmm... Phone sex?" he suggests, raising an eyebrow on his flushes face.

"I've never done that before Luka, what do I even do?"

"Just keep being sexy, talk to me, tell me what you would want me to do to you...maybe take off your clothes." he shrugs.

The awkwardness of the situation make you giggle, but somehow his nervous rambling still turns you on.

"Here," he starts," pull down your dress."

Grabbing the lace hem, you pull the neckline of your nightgown, showing off your boobs.

Luka lets out a deep sigh at this, clearly mesmerized by the sight before him. "God... I want you here with me so bad. I'd fuck you so good."

"Yeah," you say, barely louder than a whisper, then starting to move the camera down to your hips, where your nightgown is bunched up. You pull it up to reveal lace panties underneath. Spreading your legs, Luka can now see a small wet patch in your underwear.

"Are you wet?" He throws his head back and breathes out, "prekleto..."

"A little, but it's not my fault." Feeling a bit bold, you put one hand into your panties, playing with your clit. "Wish you were the one doing this to me." you moan out.

"Me too moja ljubezen, me too. Take those off and finger yourself for me."

You quickly kick off your underwear, though still wearing the nightgown, and begin inserting a finger inside yourself.

"Luka," you breath out, adding another finger, "would feel so much better if it was your fingers. Or your cock..."

"Yeah?" he says short of breath. This entire time he's been palming himself but now its his turn to lower his phone so you can see his dick straining through his shorts. "This is what you do to me Y/N."

He pulls both his shorts and underwear off at once, revealing his thick cock leaking at the tip.

Your breath catches, fingers still inside of you, "that's never going to fit inside me Luka."

He laughs, "Oh we'll figure it out one day ljubljeni, but for now just imagine me inside you," he starts stroking himself.

"Fuuuck," you moan out, "want that so bad."

"Mhm? Want me to fuck you? Want me to make love to you?" His strokes start getting faster along with his voice becoming breathier, making you even more turned on.

"Please Luka, I need you."

"Oh I know baby, just keep talking to me, keep touching yourself, I'm almost there." he coaxes.

"I need you here, stretching me out, fucking me deep until I can't take it anymore," you say breathily, on the edge of orgasm.

"That's right, ohh fuck, I'm gonna cum Y/N,"

"I want you to cum inside Luka," you moan out.

And that was it for him as you see him cumming on the screen, white droplets dripping down his cock and fist. At almost the same time, you tighten around your fingers, watching him watching you cum through lidded eyes.

It takes a minute of catching breaths and cleaning up for the both of you to realize what just happened.

He speaks first, "that was good."

"Yeah, let's do it again some time," you laugh.

You joke, but you both understand. This would be happening again. Whether it was on the phone or in person, this was too good to never do again.

Since then, you and Luka had this unspoken agreement. You two were great friends that sometimes went further than friends. Being each others biggest supporter and best friend while occasionally hooking up when one or the other was in town.

There were a few times during the preseason and official season that year that you went to Luka's hotel room. Half of the time you two acted like normal close friends. Because normal friends cuddle, kiss each other on the forehead, and fall asleep together. Right?

But the other half of the time, you two were like lovers. Never saying so, but definitely acting like it. Making love, making out, cooking for each other the morning after. You knew it was silly to have feelings for Luka, but you never wanted to do anything to jeopardize the friendship. Especially because of the benefits, but mostly because you genuinely care for him. You were fine without the label of boyfriend and girlfriend if it meant keeping Luka close to you.

The media also hadn't caught on yet. Since you lived in LA, you only ever went to games when the Mavericks played against the Lakers or Clippers, and when you visited Luka in Dallas, it wasn't to watch him play basketball.

During post-game interviews, Luka can sometimes be seen looking at his phone and smiling. An interviewer would ask a question but he always said it was something from a friend and denying any questions about a possible romantic partner.

The thing is, Luka felt the same way about you. Desperately wanting to call you his, yet terrified of losing you if something didn't work out. He too was fine with being friends with benefits. Deep down he knows that you won't stray far from him.

It was the very end of the 2023-2024 season and the Mavericks were playing against the Celtics in the last game of the NBA finals.

Due to work, you hadn't been able to go to the previous games despite cheering Luka on from afar, despite that the fact that the Mavericks were not headed towards a victory.

Sitting in a box with fellow family members and partners of the team, you watch as the Mavericks lose the 2024 NBA finals. The look on Luka's face crushes you, the anger, disappointment, and sadness all extremely apparent.

While he does a post game interview, showers, and gets ready to leave, you head back to his apartment. Not wanting to bombard or overwhelm him in any way, you sit on his couch awaiting his arrival.

When he finally comes home, he opens and closes the door quietly with a somber look on his face. You can't exactly read him to figure out if he's seething with anger or just sad.

Breaking the silence you speak softly, "Hi, Luka." You don't ask him any questions and you don't expect him to say anything. All he does is kick off his shoes, puts his bag down, and lays himself down on you. He moves you against the arm of the couch and inserts himself in between your legs with his head in the crook of your neck.

Your hands find their way to his hair, playing with it while your other hand rubs his back. He sighs deeply before talking softly, "thank you for being there tonight. Even though we didn't win."

"It's okay, I'm so proud of you either way. Making it to the finals is such an unreal accomplishment."

Neither of you say anything for a minute, but you feel him breathing against you.

"You know I think you're the greatest player of all time," you offer, breaking the silence while trying to lighten up the mood.

He sits up and looks at you with a big smile on his face despite tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Nah, that's Michael Jordan," he laughs, "but thank you, seriously. I'm just really disappointed in myself, I feel like I let everyone down."

The tears in his eyes start to fall and immediately you caress his face and start wiping his tears. You sit in his lap while he hugs you tightly, and again, your hands find their way to his hair, stroking it.

"You didn't let anybody down. Do you know how much everyone loves you? The team, the fans, your family. Everyone is so proud of you."

"I know-" his voice breaks, "I just wanted it really badly, not even just for myself, I wanted to win it for Dallas."

"You'll come back next season even stronger, Luka. I know you're capable of it," you encourage. At this moment, his happiness is your highest priority, all you want to do is make him happy.

"I'll try," he starts, "it's just going to take me a minute to get over the loss. But I'll definitely come back stronger next season, I'm getting that trophy for my team." He releases you from his hug to look at you, greeted by a smile on your face.

He then pulls you into a kiss, so passionate and deep it makes you feel dizzy. Continuing the kiss, one of his hands rests on your hip and the other grabbing your face. You feel him smiling into each kiss, rubbing up and down from your hip to your waist, and pulling your face even closer to his.

He breaks the kiss to speak, "God I-" he stops. More like he catches himself about to say something he shouldn't.

"You what?"

"I'm so fucking glad that you're here right now," he saves, "I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you with me today."

He's not lying, if you weren't here he would just be wallowing in his own self pity. But that's definitely not what he meant to say there.

"Yeah, whatever would you do without me?" you tease, "you know I'm always happy to be with you Luka."

Something shifts in his eyes, not bad, but something familiar. And it all makes sense when you feel his hard dick against your ass.

With you in his lap, it was easy for him to pick you up and take you to his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed in a similar position as before, with himself in between your legs.

He kisses you again, but this time it feels so much more intimate. He kisses your neck, leaving hickeys and drawing moans out of you. Putting his hands up your shirt, he pulls it off of you successfully

He fondles your boobs, skillfully removes your bra, and kisses your chest. "Fucking love these tits." He leaves more hickeys, taking his time enjoying you. Letting go, he takes off his shirt and pins you deeper into the bed by your waist. He attacks your chest again, kissing, sucking, and doing whatever he can to keep getting sounds out of you.

Your fingers trace up and down his stomach, then to the waist band of his shorts.

He smirks, “you’re so perfect, you know that?”

Looking up at him, you smile and bite your lip slightly, moving to tug his shorts and boxers down. His cock springs up, hitting his stomach.

Letting out a sigh, he grabs your hand and puts it on his dick. In response, you put your hand around it begin stroking it, feeling it throb in your hand.

He throws his head back and groans, "you're gonna make me lose control Y/N."

"Then lose control..."

"Alright" he pulls off your shorts and panties as once, "you asked for this."

He flips you onto your stomach and lifts your ass up a bit so you're now arching. He puts 2 of his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva, then glides them against your clit.

You moan and suddenly he inserts both fingers inside of you at the same time. He fingers you from behind for a few more moments, enjoying how you make pretty noises for him and occasionally look back up at him with need.

Using those wet fingers, he lubes up his cock, then all at once he slides his dick into you all the way.

He exhales at the sensation while you just about wake up the neighbors with your moans.

Starting slow, he begins thrusting in and out of you, with both hands on your hips/ass. Suddenly he speeds up, hitting all the right spots inside of you.

He smacks your ass, making you moan even more. "Yeah? You like that? Like when I smack your ass pretty girl?"

You look back and him and nod the best you can, "Yes, Luka, please keep going, faster!"

His thrusts become rough and fast, and you couldn't contain the pleasure you feel at this moment. With him taking his stress out on you in the best way possible, it was too much.

"Ohhh fuck...srček. You feel so goddamn good. Just sucking me in with that we pussy..." he groans.

You moan into the pillow resting underneath your head. Feeling yourself tighten around him.

All of a sudden, the warmth in your stomach grows stronger. "L-Luka, ohh. I-I'm- fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Go ahead baby cum all over me, I.. I'm almost there."

"Fuckfuckfuck, Luka! Keep going, I'm gonna cum!" With that and a few more thrusts, you cum on him, sucking him in deeper every time your pussy tightens around him.

He needs a few more thrusts before he comes undone as well with a string of mixed curses in English and Slovenian. He comes on your back and ass, jerking himself off to completion.

The sight before him is too much, wanting to keep it engraved in his memory forever. With a deep breath he asks, "Can I take a picture of this?"

"A picture of me with your cum all over me?"

"I mean... yeah, this is hot as hell. Might come in handy during an away game," he jokes.

"Go ahead," you laugh, and arch your back again for dramatic effect.

He cleans the both of you up before you fall asleep together, intertwined.

After that, the arrangement that you two held stood strong, remaining close friends despite the intimacy you shared some nights.

Often times, he teases you in Slovenian, not telling you what any of the words mean. So you take it upon yourself to start learning. Starting slow with beginner YouTube videos, buying a couple books, and learning from those online.

You learn basic phrases and vocabulary useful for traveling, but you can’t help but look up how to say romantic things. Words like baby, love, beautiful, words that you remember Luka calling you.

Not too far into learning Slovenian, you got the news. Luka calls you as soon as he finds out.

On the night of February 1st, 2025, you’re sitting on your bed, unwinding with a cup of tea and reading a book. Your phone lights up with a call from Luka, answering it immediately, you don’t even get a chance to say hi before you’re greeted by a frantic voice.

“Y/N, I just got traded. I got fucking traded.”

“What?!” you say, full of genuine surprise. Luka is well beloved by Dallas and his team. He’s one of the greatest franchise players of all time, why would they trade him. “Why would they trade you? Who for?”

“They traded me for Anthony Davis.” he says, sighing deeply. “I can’t even think right now.”

“Wait Anthony Davis? You’re gonna be a Laker?” You realize that if Luka was on the Lakers, he would live in Los Angeles too.

“Yeah, I guess.” He’s obviously upset, still coming to terms with it. “It’s not finalized yet but yeah, I'm traded."

"I- How do you feel?" The news is so unexpected, you don't even know what to say to this.

He exhales, "I don't know. But the first thing I thought of was that I'd live closer to you," laughing nervously he speaks again, "That's the bright side of this. But I think I can make the best of it being on the Lakers."

"I know, I thought of that too. I can go to all of your home games."

He smiles on the other side of the phone, "you know now I feel a lot better about the trade."

A little more than a week later, Luka is already about to play his first game as a Laker. February 10th, 2026, you're waiting for the game to start as you sit courtside - Luka's treat of course.

Nobody was too sure who you were. I mean, courtside seats are no joke, especially at a Lakers game. Were you a wealthy heiress? Underground celebrity? Or maybe, a girlfriend of one of the players? There's a blockbuster movie star and worldwide popstar sitting like 3 seats away from you, so... who even are you?

Truthfully, you were fine sitting in a box suite, away from the action. But Luka insisted that you be up close for his Lakers debut.

Throughout the game he was seen giving you a wink, standing near the area you sat in, and in general just looking at you. He wasn't distracted, you just gave him all the motivation he needed.

This was a pretty big gesture. To be seen by cameras as the one who has Luka Doncic's attention. This is intentional, special even. There are already people speculating on who you are to Luka. Are you the person who made him keep smiling at his phone during post-game interviews? The person he was randomly photographed with entering a fancy restaurant in Dallas? Are you Luka's girlfriend?

Opening up your phone during the half time intermission, you click on twitter, wanting to see what people are saying about Luka's debut.

There's a lot of good things, noting how he's finding his place on the team but still making a name for himself as a Laker.

But you pause when you see a picture of yourself, accompanied by a short clip of Luka winking at you after making a shot and you smiling in return. The responses to that post are theorizing about who you are, and to your surprise there's not really anything bad about you being said. There's actually a lot of compliments, including, "luka scoring on and off the court," which makes you laugh in your seat.

Smiling, set your phone down and watch the rest of the game. The Lakers win against the Utah Jazz by almost 20 points. Luka's smiling and looks to be having a lot of fun with him team, celebrating after a win.

After the game, you wait for Luka to finish with his post-game interview. You sit inside of your car in the Lakers garage, since none of Luka's cars have made it to LA yet due to how sudden the trade was. He wasn't even moved into his new apartment yet, so he's been staying with you for a couple days now.

You see him come into the garage, and you come out of the car to give him a big hug. He hugs you even tighter, lifting you up a little.

"I'm so proud of you," you say, muffled into his neck.

"Thanks for coming, baby." he whispers. "Now lets get back to your place." he beams.

You two could barely make it inside of your apartment. The door opens and slams as soon as you enter, with you being picked up and pinned up against it by Luka while he kisses you.

He takes you to your bedroom and almost throws you on the bed. The two of you waste no time as you both strip completely. Luka's already semi-hard, not needing much more to become fully hard with you naked in front of him.

"Lay down," you tell him softly, a bit shy.

"Hm?" With an eyebrow raised, he lays down against the headboard of your bed.

Standing up you crawl over to his spot on the bed and stop when your head gets close to his hard cock.

"Ohh," he says, understanding, as you put your hands on his thighs. Licking up from the base of his cock to the tip, you look Luka in the eyes, maintaining eye contact. You suck at his tip, making his eyes roll back into his head.

Then, taking his whole cock into your mouth and down your throat, your nose hits his pubes, fully taking his dick. Bobbing your head up and down while sucking him in has him grabbing and puling your hair, assisting you move up and down.

He moans, groans, and making literally every sound possible. "Fuckkk, you trying to make me cum already?" Pulling you off of his cock, and back towards him, he kisses you, hard and deep.

He flips you onto your back and lifts your legs up. He slaps his wet cock against your pussy, grinding onto you. The sensation of him brushing against your clit makes you quiver, gripping onto his bicep for support.

Eventually he inserts his cock inside slowly, with an obscene wet sounds coming from that movement.

Pushing your legs back for leverage, he starts fucking into you slowly. He makes slow thrusts, exhaling after each once, basking in how warm and wet you are.

Speeding up a bit, he stares at how your tits bounce between every thrust. He leans down to kiss you and stays there for a minute, still thrusting into you, foreheads pressed together, and enjoying the moans that come out of you.

"Ohhh Y/N, Ljubim te. Zelo te ljubim." He breathes out, looking into your eyes.

"Wait what?" You recognize those worlds. He just said he loves you, that he loves you a lot actually.

"Huh?" he says, stopping his thrusts, he assumes you don't know what he said before.

"You love me?" you look up at him, smiling, with all the hope in the world in your eyes it seems.

His heart drops, but he couldn't deny it at this moment when he felt so incredibly close to you.

"I-I do, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time now. I just didn't want to ruin what we have."

You only giggle at him, and he's not sure if he should he relieved or concerned.

"I love you too Luka. I've been learning Slovenian for you, and I guess it finally paid off," you catch him smiling, "tudi jaz te ljubim," you say with your American accent.

He laughs and grins into a kiss, pulling your face closer to kiss. "Let me show you how much I love you baby."

Gripping your legs again, he starts fucking you at the same pace as before, but this time his thrusts are much harder, much deeper.

"You feel that? You feel what you do to me? You feel how much I fucking love you?"

He maintains this pace, bringing you closer to finishing with each thrust.

Your eyes are rolling back at this point, unable to focus on anything but Luka.

"Fuck, yes Luka, keep doing that, don't stop!" you moan out while holding onto his arms.

"Ohhh, baby, I'm gonna cum already-"

"Cum inside, please Luka, please I need it so bad!" you cut him off, obviously close to finishing as well.

"Okay, whatever you want moj dragi." "Ohhh, fuck I'm gonna cum inside you Y/N, take it baby, take it." He cums inside in one thrust, pushing himself and pulling you deeper, trying to fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You can't even form words with the amount of pleasure you feel at this moment. You only scream out a moan when you cum, yours and his mixing together inside you.

You both are out of breath as he lays down on top of you, still inside of you.

Looking into your eyes with his own pleading eyes he tells you, "I do love you Y/N. I want you to be mine. Please be my girlfriend."

Forming a grin on your face you look back at him, "I thought you'd never ask. I love you more Luka."

He kisses you softly and lays into you then whispers, "good. 'Cause I'm not letting you go."

You were supposed to be there tonight. Front row, exactly where he always searches for you first, even if he pretends he doesn’t. Even if he says, “It’s not a big deal, baby. Play is play.”

It is a big deal. To him. You know that now, sitting here with your stomach turning.

You hadn’t meant to miss it. You hadn’t planned to be the one seat left empty in the row he always glances at after timeout huddles. You hadn’t expected lunch with your old friends - girls who insisted on margaritas, a late reservation, a “just stay a little longer!” to bleed from early afternoon into early evening. You’d been sure he wouldn’t care.

He’s Luka. He’s used to you having your own life.

And maybe that’s why you didn’t check the clock until it was too late and your heart bottomed out.

By the time you realized you wouldn’t make it, the game had already tipped. By the time you got home, the game was already over. And by the time he walked off that court, looking like the weight of the season was crushing his shoulders… you were already imagining the conversation you’d have with him. Or try to have.

You’re halfway through patting toner into your face when you hear the garage door slam shut - not loudly, but with that heavy, resigned thud that says everything you wish he’d texted.

You pause, palms pressed to your cheeks, heart climbing into your throat for a beat.

Then you breathe.

You’ve been with Luka long enough to know he has two post-bad game moods:

The quiet-sad one, where he sinks into you like he needs to be rebuilt from scratch.

And the other one - the prickly, restless, looking-for-a-spark one. The version of him who doesn’t want to fight you, but wants to fight something, because everything inside him feels too tight and too loud and too much.

Tonight is obviously the second one.

But you also know the worst thing you can do is meet that energy head-on. Luka hates himself afterward when he spirals, even though he never takes it out on you. Not really, not on purpose. He just gets sharp, iritated at the world and too burnt out to filter it.

So you go with your usual strategy: Pretend nothing is wrong.

You keep doing your skincare.

You take your time smoothing moisturizer over your jaw. You purposely hum under your breath - something light, something calm. The bathroom light is warm, almost too sterile, and you try to let it settle into your bones.

You hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

Heavy ones, dragging ones.

The kind that tell you he hasn’t showered at the facility tonight - he never walks like that unless he came straight home, still in his game clothes, still carrying the loss like it’s strapped to his back.

The bathroom door opens without a knock.

Luka fills the doorway, shoulders stiff, hoodie halfway unzipped like he couldn’t be bothered. His hair is still damp with post-game sweat, curls sticking to his temples. His face looks… carved. Not cold, not angry - just exhausted in a way that makes your chest ache.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, watching you.

You know this version of him. The version who doesn’t want to talk but also wants you to ask, who hates being looked at but came to find you anyway, who’s hurting so much that he needs friction to feel in control of something.

You keep applying eye cream, pretending you don’t feel his eyes burning holes in the mirror.

“Hey,” you say softly, voice steady but not overly sweet. You’ve learned he hates being handled. “You’re home early.”

“No media,” he mutters. His voice is rough, like gravel dragged across the floor. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

You nod. No judgement.

He waits. Like he wants you to push, wants you to pry.

You don’t.

You pick up your gua sha instead, pulling it gently along your cheekbone.

Luka steps fully into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. He looks huge there, too big for the four walls, too big for his own skin.

“Did you watch the game?” he asks, tone deceptively even.

You don’t flinch. “Yeah.”

Silence.

He’s staring again. You can feel the way his gaze sharpens, searching for something to latch onto - some crack, some sign that you’re lying, some flaw in your expression he can dig his frustration into.

You know him, know he’s looking for a fight, not because he wants to hurt you, but because hurting himself is easier when someone is around to anchor him.

You keep your voice steady. “I saw you had a rough night.”

His jaw flexes. “You could say that.”

You put the gua sha down slowly, wiping it on a towel with deliberate calm.

He breathes out, sharp and humorless. “Everyone else did. On the internet. On every broadcast. Everywhere.” He laughs without smiling. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“I’m not sugarcoating anything, Luka.”

His eyes flick up at your tone - soft but grounded.

He pushes off the doorframe and moves behind you to the double sinks, dropping his bag onto the floor with a muted thud. He braces his hands on the counter, head hanging between his shoulders. You can see the tension in his back through the thin cotton of his hoodie.

Then, through the mirror, he looks at you.

And he looks… wrecked.

“You weren’t there.”

There it is.

Simple. Quiet. Not accusatory but full of something rawer than anger, vulnerability so sharp it cuts through the air.

You swallow before responding. “Luka…”

“I looked,” he says, still calm enough to scare you, “every time I walked to the bench. Every timeout. Every free throw. I looked.”

Your throat tightens.

“You always sit in the same spot. First row. End of the left side. I didn’t see you, not once.” He shakes his head, scoffing softly. “Do you know how stupid I felt? Staring at an empty seat like some kid waiting for his parents?”

You take a breath, grounding yourself, because if you react emotionally right now, the whole thing will ignite.

“I should’ve been there,” you admit, nodding slightly. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

His mouth twitches - somewhere between relief and irritation.

“But it wasn’t on purpose,” you continue gently. “I thought I’d make it. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, you think he’ll accept that.

But then-

He laughs again - tired, bitter. “Everyone else seems to get more of you lately.”

That one hurts more than it should.

You meet his eyes in the mirror fully, finally turning toward him.

“Luka,” you say quietly. “You’re exhausted. You’re hurting. And you’re taking it out on me.”

For a second, he freezes.

Just a second.

Then his eyes flick up in the mirror - sharp, glassy, already full of something he doesn’t know how to control tonight and he shakes his head, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, voice low but brittle. “Don’t make this about me being tired.”

“I’m not,” you say gently.

“Yes, you are,” he snaps, faster this time. “You always do this, turn everything into a therapy session. I had a bad game, and suddenly I’m - what, projecting? Deflecting?”

You blink.

He’s spiraling. Not at you, not really. At himself. At the pressure. At the world. But you’re the only one here, so the debris is landing on your skin first.

“Luka,” you murmur, “I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling upset. I’m just saying you’re not being fair-”

“Fair?” He laughs, disbelieving. “Fair is you being there! Fair is you showing up when I fucking needed it!” His voice lifts - loud enough that it rings off the tiles. “Fair is not ditching me on a night like this!”

Your breath catches.

He’s not yelling in anger. He’s yelling because the dam inside him finally cracked and everything is flooding out at once.

“You think I don’t know how bad I played?” Luka continues, words tumbling out sharper. “You think I need people online calling me trash? You think I need commentators talking shit about my conditioning, like I don’t fucking train? Like I don’t wake up every day and-”

“Luka-”

“You think I don’t know I let everyone down tonight?” His voice cracks, anger bleeding into something more fragile, more desperate. “And then I look up and you’re not there. You. The one person who’s always there.”

Your heart twists.

He doesn’t realize how hurt he sounds, doesn’t realize he’s raising his voice.

You try to steady your breathing, keep your tone soft. “Baby, I’m sorry. I really am. I should’ve been there. But I didn’t choose anything over you-”

“Yes, you did!” he barks.

The sound is sharp. Too sharp in the small bathroom.

You flinch, not because you think he’d ever hurt you, not even close, but because the sound ricochets off the tile and something on the counter tips from the vibration.

Your serum bottle wobbles then clatters to the floor.

The crack of plastic hitting tile is loud, loud enough to snap both of you out of the moment.

Your shoulders jump. Just an instinctive reaction. Luka sees it. He hears the noise, sees your hand jerk, sees the way your eyes widen for a split-second.

And everything inside him stops.

His face falls.

Not softens - no, falls.

Like someone yanked the floor out from under him and he’s seeing the wreckage he caused for the first time.

You can practically feel the shock wave hit him. His mouth parts. His chest rises sharply, then stills.

“..Did you just-” his voice comes out hoarse, horrified, “Did I just scare you?”

You swallow. “Luka, it’s fine-”

“No.” His voice breaks completely. “Baby. No. Tell me the truth.”

You shake your head. “I just, dropped something-”

“No.” He steps back. Physically steps back like he’s afraid of himself. “I yelled. I - fuck, I didn’t even realize. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” you insist gently, stepping toward him.

He steps back again.

His hands are shaking and he looks at you like you’re something fragile he’s terrified he just cracked.

“I need-” Luka chokes out, running a trembling hand over his mouth. “I need, fuck, I need some air. I can’t-” He shakes his head, eyes glassy.

“Luka-”

“I’ll be back,” he says almost pleadingly, as if worried you’ll leave before he returns. “I just - please, I need a minute.”

Then he’s gone.

He just leaves in a rush of panic and shame, the front door clicking behind him with a soft sound.

You stand there in the empty bathroom, heart thudding, the dropped bottle still rolling lazily near your foot.

You take a long breath.

Then another.

You’re not crying—you’re too stunned, too aware of how much pain he must’ve been in to even raise his voice at you. Luka is passionate when it comes to basketball, but with you? He’s gentle to a fault. Sweet in ways he doesn’t show the world.

Tonight wasn’t him. Tonight was everything crushing him at once.

You clean up the fallen bottle, wash your hands, and force yourself to move through the motions of getting ready for bed. You brush your teeth. Pull on pajamas. Turn off the bright bathroom lights.

You slide into bed, but your body refuses to settle.

You lie there staring at the ceiling for - what? An hour? Two? Every thought somehow ends with: Was I really that upset-looking? Did he see fear? Is he thinking I’m scared of him? Is he hurting alone?

And beneath all that: Is he okay?

You check your phone twice, even though you know he probably isn’t texting.

By 1am, your eyes keep drifting to the door every time a car passes outside.

At 1:42, you sit up and turn the lamp on, because lying in the dark just makes your thoughts louder.

At 2:03am, you finally hear it.

The soft rumble of his car pulling into the garage.

He doesn’t come in immediately. You can hear him sitting in the car for a while - engine off, but his playlist faintly audible through the garage door.

Finally, the front door opens.

His footsteps are slow. Like he’s afraid you’re asleep or afraid you’re not.

You sit up straighter as he appears in the doorway of the bedroom.

He looks destroyed.

Eyes red. Hair a mess from repeatedly running his hands through it. Hoodie still on, like he never got warm enough to take it off. His expression isn’t angry anymore, it’s devastated.

When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Are you awake?”

You nod.

He swallows, hesitating like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to come closer.

“Can I… can I sit?”

“Of course,” you say softly, scooting back to give him room.

He sits on the edge of the bed but keeps a few inches of space between you, like he’s trying to protect you from himself.

He exhales shakily. “I drove around for like an hour,” he murmurs, staring at the floor. “Then I just parked somewhere and… sat. And thought. A lot.”

You nod gently. “That’s okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “No, it’s not.”

You wait, because he needs to say this at his own pace.

“I raised my voice at you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I… I yelled. I didn’t think. I didn’t hear myself and then that bottle fell and you-” He stops, choking on the words. “Even if you weren’t scared of me. God, the thought that I might’ve made you flinch - baby, that’s not okay. That’s never okay.”

Your throat tightens.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you say quietly. “You didn’t scare me.”

He looks at you finally - eyes glossy, devastated. “But I did. Even a little bit and I never want to be someone you react to like that. Not even once. You don’t understand, my heart fucking stopped.”

You swallow hard. “You were overwhelmed. You weren’t angry at me. You were hurting.”

“That doesn’t excuse it,” he whispers.

“No,” you agree softly. “It doesn’t but it explains it.”

He takes another slow breath, voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I felt… out of control in my own head. Like everything I’ve been trying so hard to keep together was falling apart and you not being there, it made me feel like I lost the one thing that grounds me.”

Your chest aches.

He continues, voice trembling. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at everything else. Mad at myself. Mad at the game, the media, the pressure… everything. And I threw it at the wrong person.”

You reach out slowly, giving him time to pull away, but he doesn’t. He lets you take his hand, his thumb pressing immediately against your knuckles like he needs the contact to breathe.

“I thought maybe you’d… stop wanting to come,” he admits in a hoarse whisper. “Or that I wasn’t someone you wanted to support anymore.”

You shake your head immediately. “Luka, no. Never.”

He nods weakly, like he knew but didn’t trust himself enough to believe it all the way.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, lifting your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers. “I’ll never raise my voice at you like that again. I swear. I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe with me. Not even for half a second. You’re… you’re everything to me.”

Your eyes sting. “I know. I do.”

He shifts closer - tentative, like he thinks he should ask permission with every inch.

You close the distance for him, leaning into his chest. His arms wrap around you instantly, tightly, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his hold.

He buries his face in your hair and breathes deeply, shakily, like this is the first real inhale he’s taken all night.

“I love you,” he whispers into your shoulder, voice cracking again. “I’m so sorry. Today was hell, and I made it hell for you too. I’ll do better.”

You hold him tighter. “We’re okay. I promise.”

He nods against you, but you can feel the lingering tremor under his skin. So you hold him.

You stay like that for a long time.

His breathing slows, shoulders loosen. His fingers lace with yours under the covers.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“You really forgive me?” he asks softly.

You brush his cheek. “I already did.”

He kisses you then - slow and desperate.

And when he finally lies down beside you, pulling you against his chest, he doesn’t let go. Not once. Not even when he falls asleep almost instantly, exhaustion dragging him under.

You stay awake a little longer, listening to his breathing even out.

Tonight was raw and messy but he came back. He apologized, and he meant it. And he loves you more than he knows what to do with.

You reach for his hand under the blanket.

And finally, your chest unclenches.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

luka who. . . is completely different to the beast he is on the court. as soon as he gets home, he turns into the softest baby you’ve seen. he goes from screaming at refs about their bullshit calls, talking crazy shit on the court, to melting in your arms the second he gets home from the arena. he doesn’t say much, simply mumbling, “i missed you”. i know in my heart that he’s the type to be knocked out the second he gets comfortable (seriously, you have pictures of him sleeping in the most unconventional places..)

luka who. . . has a hand on you at all times. there’s a bunch of pictures of him out with you, hand on your hip (sometimes dangerously close to your ass), walking together hand in hand, and it’s worse when you’re at home. he’d probably hold your foot just because. 

luka who. . . loves yapping to you about anything. he’s probably given you 1 hour lectures about his cars and the mechanics of them, but honestly, you let him because everytime he does, he looks cute when he starts getting excited about whatever he's talking about. and if you start yapping to him about anything, mans is sat. attentive and actively listening to the point where he stares into your soul. not one detail is ignored!! loves you sm that everything you say means the world to him.

which brings us to, luka who. . . does anything you ask. you could tell him to jump and he’d ask, “how high?” he’s a natural born giver and isn’t ashamed of it. people may call him a simp, but he just sees it as making sure his girl stays happy. plus, it's worth it because he gets to spend more time with you. i think since he's often gone for games, he really tries to make it up as best as he can, especially during the off season. i wouldn’t be surprised if he puts stuff really high or tightens the jar just so you can ask him to do it. 

luka who. . . doesn’t forget a single thing you tell him. it doesn’t matter if its your favorite show, singer, or the name of a random teddy bear you had when you were 10, he will always remember. to him, everything about you is important. he basically sees it as his duty to make sure you’re loved and taken care of, and remembering things that make you who you are in the first place is one of the ways he does that. so if he ends up gifting you something you barely mentioned like three months ago, do not be surprised. 

luka who. . . does not play about you. he gets so protective sometimes it’s genuinely ridiculous. if you give one of his dogs more attention than he does, he’ll be so pouty for the rest of the day, saying stuff like “do you not love me anymore?” as a joke just to piss you off. but in more serious situations, he’s very quick to act. if he sees some paparazzi getting all up in your personal space, he is not afraid to shove someone away. somebody talking shit about you around him? he doesn’t hesitate to defend you.

luka who. . . constantly lets you know that he loves you. he really has no limits— he shows it through words, actions, gifts, etc. like when he tries to cook dinner after a rough day (doesn’t taste…the best, but he tries!), hyping you up as you get ready, posting you on instagram constantly, mentioning you whenever he can during interviews, getting you the most thoughtful gifts ever. his love truly knows no bounds. 

NSFW HCS

luka who. . . gets hard no matter what you do. seriously, it’s insane. you could simply look at him and he’s up and ready to go. you say it’s because he must be really whipped for you, and he agrees every time. 

luka who. . . cannot finish sex without having you cum on his tongue at least once. yeah, it’s nice when you do it on his cock, but being able to taste you is an even better feeling. he probably keeps his stubble so you're extra overstimulated while he's going down on you. he’s addicted to your taste and hearing you moan and whine is like a song he never gets sick of.

luka who. . . loves a bit of pain. nothing too crazy, but feeling your nails dig into his back is heavenly. or if you tug on his hair? oh, he’ll get so loud, you practically have to gag him so he shuts up. (hint: he also likes that. more than he should.)

luka who. . .  who loves talking dirty in slovenian. he really takes it up a notch, saying the filthiest shit ever in your ear, knowing you won't understand. don't be fooled though, he's not scared to say it in english either. he'll say stuff like:

"come on, one more time,"

"fuck, take it all. i know you can,"

"look at this pretty fucking pussy. all nice and wet for me, hm?"

“keep your eyes on me while i fuck you.”

luka who. . . has a serious breeding fixation. he doesn’t mind cumming anywhere else, but if you give him the go ahead to finish inside? he’ll bust in seconds. he’s so possessive that he’ll do whatever to mark you as his. don’t even let him watch it leak out. he’ll be tempted to push it back in with his fingers, hoping it sticks. it’s even worse when you say, “gimmie a baby, luka,” or “please, make me a mommy,” because how could he ever say no? 

luka who. . . has probably taken pictures/videos of y’all while having sex. you don’t mind, because you know he’d rather die than ever let anyone else see. he respects you too much to ever do that without your permission. he mainly keeps it in a private folder to use whenever he’s at away games or when you’re gone. his favorite video is you taking backshots from him, mainly because your ass looks beautiful taking him. that, and when you’re marked up with his cum after a blowjob, smiling and looking up with teasing eyes. if he focuses hard enough, it’s almost like you’re there. god, he really can’t get enough of it.

luka who. . . always gives you aftercare. as an athlete, he knows more than anyone that a body needs to recover after any kind physical activity. he never forgets to run you a bath, clean you up, and most importantly— make sure you know you’re loved. expect cuddles and kisses hours after sex.

all the while, you're on a trip to ibiza with your girlfriends for a week, most likely sunbathing and clubbing until your mind is foggy and feet ache from standing with heels for too long. and yeah, he could do the same in LA— where it’s sunny and parties are thrown every other second with plenty of shots and girls. 

but none of them are you. 

and if luka’s going to drag himself out to a function he doesn’t even want to go to, he'd rather bare it all with you by his side. 

his phone shines bright in the dark bedroom, highlighting your recent conversation with luka. you haven't sent anything else other than the pictures you wanted his opinion on, asking which ones are "perfff for insta?"

he tried to pay attention. you've always cared about the aesthetic of your page, every post and caption particular to your vibe— he knew better than to steer you in the wrong direction. you look gorgeous, he thinks while scrolling through the bundle of pictures you sent, but his breath hitches when he comes across the second half of them.

different than your shots of you in flowy dresses, posing next to palm trees, behind sunsets, or a peek of the fancy dinners you've had— no, this was you, wearing the skimpiest bikini he’s ever seen in his life. it’s blue, his favorite color.

all he can do is stare at the sight, mouth open agape, literally analyzing every pixel on his screen.

it’s almost like you did this on purpose. like you knew he's been craving you terribly since you’ve been gone. 

again, he tries, really tries to hold himself back and be respectful. text you back, "these are fine," and ignore how his dick is straining through his boxers, begging to be touched. luka scoffs at the thought of him jerking off to you like some teenage boy. i mean c'mon— he's better than that.

but the way the blue straps of the bikini digs into your skin, emphasizing the soft rolls of your body? or how the cups barely cover your areola? don’t even mention the tan line he so desperately wants to trace with his tongue or how he's so jealous of the sand your ass rests on. who can blame him for you being so fucking hot?

his left hand rubs up and down his cock harshly, breaths sharpening when the other clumsily zooms into your chest, needing to have a closer look— only to throw his head back against the pillow, sharp eyes noticing that the camera captured your hard nipples. they’re poking through the fabric, practically begging him to wrap his pink lips around one and twist the other between his fingers. fuck, fuck, fuck. he can’t stop. 

and he doesn’t want to stop— it’s so shameful, but luka’s never felt better since you left. the sooner it’s over, the better.

this is really fucked up, he thinks. but his shame isn't enough to drown out how bad his heart yearns to be with you again. 

luka could rip that joke of a swimsuit off of you, while you scold him with a, "hey—! that was expensive!" but he'd continue anyway, muttering about how he'd buy you a hundred of the same pair to make up for it.

swim trunks kicked to the side, your boobs would be the first thing he goes after, wrapping his mouth around your nipples like he promised— mind fogged up, lips sucking and playing with them in a trance. maybe he’d graze his teeth and bite around the flesh, making you squeal out, but he'd kiss it better anyway.

or, what if, he'd sit up on the beach chair, his thick figure between your thighs, ready to indulge in your sweetness. luka would beg for just a taste, and you'd let him have it, needing to feel his warm tongue before he ruins you with his cock. 

or maybe, instead, he'd be too impatient to taste, quickly lining his cock against your wet pussy. his darkened blue eyes would watch every twitch of your expression as the head rubs between your folds, your composure crumbling each time he barely presses inside, and then pulls away. somehow, luka actually can hear you mewl below him, begging— "please, please, luka! need it s' bad!" it would be his punishment for you after keeping this heaven away from him for so long.

or, how about this? he’d just shove it in, not being able to resist your cries. luka can’t say no to you, after all. fuck you hard and deep, his body folding you in half on the flimsy chair, to the point where his tip brushes against your cervix with every thrust. "oh god, luka, right t—there!" and he’d smirk, and say, he knows. 

all he’d want to hear are your whimpers and thighs slapping against each other, like thunder echoing throughout the whole airbnb. he'd fuck you to the point where no other man could ever make you feel the same, beg him to cum inside, and mark you up forever.

and you'd be so tight, now that, he’s sure of. greedily sucking him in, not being able to pull out even if he wanted to. your walls all warm and ready for him to drench in his cum in, and god, he'd do anything for it to happen—

then in an instant, the sunshine, palm trees, and you, naked and wanting, disappear. mind blanking out as luka groans your name into the open air, whimpers leaving his throat rough and deep, jerking out his cum onto his sweaty chest.

the thick silence settles around him as he stares into the dark— only reminding him of how still, you’re not here.

is he pathetic for feeling this way? i mean, it’s just a week. he can totally handle a week. 

luka reaches blindly for a napkin on the nightstand, quickly wiping at himself before the sticky liquid dries on his skin.

as if the faster he wipes it away, it'll erase all the evidence of how much he misses you.

his phone dings from the other side of the bed— probably fell out of his hands while he was… occupied, knowing it’s you from the special ringtone he set on his phone.

"oh, i forgot!" you text him, and before luka can finish reading what you sent, 10 more attachments come through at once. 

"...fuck my life," he groans. 

the first photo is from behind. you're sat on the edge of the pool, water glimmering beneath you. your back arches just slightly, the curve of your spine drawing his eyes down, down to where the thin strap of the yellow and purple thong disappears between your cheeks, wedged in place as if it belongs there.

and again, luka can’t even comprehend what that bikini is supposed to cover exactly. 

he swallows. before he can stop himself from looking at you for too long, his cock rises back up, hard once again.

"i took more photos of myself today. what do you think of these?"

yeah. he's done for.

It was always the same story with Luka and Y/N loud, messy, unfinished in all the worst ways.

And somehow,  never really over.

Los Angeles didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. The city had a way of blurring lines, late nights, neon lights bleeding into early mornings, emotions running hotter than they should.

Luka being traded to the Lakers had only made things more complicated, because now there was always an excuse. Always a reason for her to be there. Always a reason for him to text.

“You in LA?” “You busy tonight?” “Come over. Just to talk.”

They never just talked.

This time started like all the others, petty, already halfway to an argument before she even stepped through his door. She didn’t even take her shoes off before it started.

“You ignored me for three days,” she snapped, crossing her arms like she hadn’t just flown out on a last-minute ticket because he texted her at midnight.

Luka leaned against the counter, jaw tight, eyes already burning with that familiar frustration. “I had games. You know that.”

“Oh please, Luka. You always have games. That’s your excuse for everything.”

“And you always make everything about you.”

Silence hung for half a second with it being heavy, dangerous.

Then it exploded.

Voices overlapping, accusations flying, old wounds reopening like they never healed. It wasn’t even about the three days anymore. It was about everything. About how he never chose her. About how she always left first. About how neither of them knew how to stop.

“You act like you don’t care,” she said, voice cracking just enough to betray her.

“And you act like you do,” he shot back, harsher than he meant.

That one landed.

She turned like she was about to leave again, like always, but he moved faster, grabbing her wrist before she could take two steps.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

“Don’t what?” she snapped, trying to pull away. “Don’t leave? Luka, that’s all we ever do-”

He cut her off the only way he knew how.

By pulling her back into him.

The tension didn’t disappear, it shifted. It always did. Anger turning into something just as intense, just as reckless. Their breathing was uneven, too close, words dying on their lips because neither of them really wanted to keep talking.

“Say something,” she whispered, but it came out softer than she meant.

“I am,” he said quietly.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It never was with them. It was messy and desperate, like they were trying to win an argument they both already lost. Her hands pushed against his chest at first, but it didn’t last.. It never did, because seconds later she was pulling him closer like she couldn’t help herself.

They always ended up here.

Every. Single. Time.

Like muscle memory. Like a habit neither of them knew how to break.

And for a while, nothing else mattered, not the fight, not the history, not the inevitable ending waiting for them in the morning.

Just this.

The sunlight in his room was too bright, too real, cutting through everything they pretended wasn’t broken. Y/N woke up first, tangled in his sheets, the quiet almost uncomfortable after the chaos of the night before.

Luka was already awake.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he hadn’t slept at all.

Something felt… different.

Not the usual calm-before-the-next-storm. Not the lazy tension that led to round two. This was heavier. Final in a way she didn’t like.

“Luka?” she said softly.

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before he spoke and when he did, it wasn’t in English.

It was Slovakian.

Fast. Sharp. Frustrated.

To počnemo vsakič in nobenega napredka, naveličan sem tega.

The words came out rough, his voice low but intense, like he wasn’t even thinking about translating as he was just letting it spill out.

She blinked at him. “Okay… I caught maybe zero of that.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head before finally looking at her.

“It means…” he paused, searching for the words in English, his accent heavier than usual, “this is all messed up. Like… completely messed up. And..  he huffed, almost annoyed with himself, “‘fuck, it’s always the same.’”

That one hit harder in English.

She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with last night.

“Luka…”

“I’m tired,” he cut in, not mean.. just honest in a way he hadn’t been before. “I’m tired of this cycle. We fight, you leave, you come back, we… do this-” he gestured vaguely between them “And nothing changes.”

Her chest tightened. “So what are you saying?”

He finally looked at her fully, and there was no anger this time. That was the scary part.

“I’m saying I don’t know how to fix this.”

The room went quiet again, but this time it didn’t feel temporary.

It felt like something breaking.

And for once… neither of them reached for the other to pretend it wasn’t.

Morning didn’t fully end, it just… softened.

After everything he said, after the weight of it hung in the air like something final, Y/N didn’t argue. For once, she didn’t push back or try to twist it into another fight. She just looked at him for a second, eyes heavy, emotions drained in a way that felt deeper than exhaustion.

“I’m tired too,” she murmured quietly.

And then she laid back down.

Not dramatically. Not to prove a point. Just… tired.

Within minutes, she was asleep again, curled into his side of the bed like her body didn’t recognize the difference anymore.

Luka sat there for a while after she drifted off, staring at nothing, jaw tight, mind louder than he wanted it to be. He knew he should say more. Do more. Fix it somehow.

But instead, he stood up, grabbed a pair of sweats, and left the room.

The living room was quieter. Controlled. Predictable.

Exactly what he needed.

Luka dropped onto the couch, Macbook already open, film rolling as he replayed possessions from the last game. Even injured with a left grade 2 hamstring issue, something the staff had been strict about, he couldn’t sit still without doing something basketball related.

On the coffee table in front of him sat a protein bowl his chef had made earlier, eggs, avocado, grilled chicken, something green he didn’t even bother knowing. He ate absentmindedly between clips, pausing, rewinding, muttering under his breath when he saw something he didn’t like.

“Too slow,” he mumbled to himself, clicking back five seconds. “I gotta read that earlier…”

For a while, it was just that. Film. Food. Silence.

Peace.

Until he heard footsteps.

Soft. Slow. Familiar.

He didn’t look up right away, he already knew.

Y/N stepped into the living room, hair messy, face still sleepy, wrapped up in something oversized that hung off her frame like it belonged to someone else.

Because it did.

His old Dallas Mavericks hoodie.

The one she used to steal all the time.

Luka paused the film.

Looked up.

Stared.

“…take that shit off.”

Her lips twitched immediately, like she’d been waiting for that exact reaction.

“Nope.”

She walked further into the room, completely unbothered, tugging the sleeves over her hands like she planned on staying in it forever.

“Take it off,” he repeated, sitting up a little straighter, eyes narrowing, not angry, just… something else.

“Not happening.”

She stopped right in front of him, tilting her head slightly, that familiar stubbornness settling in like armor.

“Not until you admit we should be together.”

That did it.

Luka stared at her for a second like he was deciding whether to argue… or fold.

Because this was the part that always got him.

Not the yelling. Not the attitude.

This.

The quiet, ridiculous, impossible way she stood there like she already knew she had him.

He let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly, like he was annoyed at himself more than her.

“Unbelievable…”

But his voice had no real bite.

He leaned back into the couch, one arm draping lazily over the side, eyes still locked on her.

“…come here.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

She tried to hide the small smile that pulled at her lips, but it showed anyway as she stepped closer. The second she was within reach, his hand came out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down without hesitation.

She landed in his lap with a soft huff, instinctively bracing herself against his chest.

“Luka-”

But he was already settling back, shifting so he was laid out more comfortably on the couch, one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him like it was second nature.

Like they hadn’t just said everything they said an hour ago.

Like nothing had changed.

He exhaled, his grip tightening slightly but not forceful, just secure.

Grounding.

Y/N  relaxed into him after a second, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt like she wasn’t fully ready to admit how much she missed this part.

Because this part was always the problem.

The quiet. The closeness. The way everything felt right when it shouldn’t.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

The film still paused on the screen. The city humming faintly outside.

Then Luka shifted his head slightly, glancing down at her.

“..you’re not taking that hoodie off, huh?”

She didn’t even look up.

“Nope.”

A pause.

“...stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head again, but this time there was something softer behind it.

And then, almost like he was making a decision he didn’t want to think too hard about he leaned down.

Pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath. “F*ck it.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t some big declaration.

Just Luka being Luka.

Giving in… even when he knew exactly what that meant.