#pre-game routine

[josephwoll]

brick² warmups | 20.11.24

[certainsaturn]

[walkingintheamm]

not bad, mas não foi dos melhores, ali no meio saíram um bocado do ritmo da música

[spookierz]

if u you think about it. having a nighttime routine is like pregaming ur sleep

[maddenikaris]

I just want to go out and do something fun—something for myself—next summer but I KNOW it’ll cause (unnecessary) drama and a fight and I hate that my first instinct is to just. Avoid voicing my desires as a whole because honestly dealing with this shit every single time I want to do something beyond sit at home is just exhausting. However. I can’t live my life like that anymore and frankly after the last five years I truly think I deserve a little freedom and fun

[fazcinatingblog]

This is actually a real photo of Maynard on game day

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

WAG Bootcamp

Part 2

Word count: 767

Pairing: lando Norris x reader, but mostly just Y/n and the WAGs

Summary: Y/n, Lando Norris’ new girlfriend, attends her first F1 race and is swiftly taken under the wing of the WAGs, who teach her the unspoken rules of f1

________________________________________________________

Y/n had been to big events before. Red carpets, premieres, and fashion weeks—she could handle a camera flash like a pro. But standing at the entrance of the paddock for her first-ever Formula 1 race, wearing her McLaren pass around her neck, she felt completely out of her depth.

The world of F1 wasn’t just about fast cars; it was about politics, strategy, and—most terrifyingly—the WAGs.

Lando had kissed her goodbye at the hospitality entrance, promising to see her after FP1, and that was when she was ambushed.

“Alright, rookie,” Kika, Pierre Gasly’s girlfriend, looped an arm through hers, her honey-blonde hair bouncing as she steered Y/n toward a private table in the paddock. “Time for bootcamp.”

“Bootcamp?” Y/n repeated, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights.

“You think you can just waltz in here and be a proper F1 girlfriend without guidance?” Lily, Alex Albon’s girlfriend, teased, sliding into a seat with a knowing smirk. “No, sweetheart, it doesn’t work like that.”

“You’re lucky,” Alex, Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, added. “Not everyone gets the full WAG orientation on their first weekend. Usually, we just let them suffer.”

Y/n blinked. “Should I be scared?”

Rebecca, Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend, gave her an encouraging pat on the back. “Yes.”

Lesson One: Pre-Race Preparation

“You need to know how to handle Lando before a race,” Carmen, George Russell’s girlfriend, started, flipping her sunglasses onto her head. “Every driver has their own pre-race routine. If you mess it up, congratulations—you’re the reason he finishes P12.”

“Wait—what?” Y/n’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Not really,” Kelly, Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, said with a shrug. “Just don’t be annoying. Keep the energy calm, don’t talk too much, and if he’s in the zone, let him stay there.”

Kika nodded. “Pierre needs hype. So I tell him he’s the best, kiss him, and send him off like a gladiator into battle. Meanwhile, Lily literally has to trick Alex into thinking racing is just a fun little game so he doesn’t overthink.”

Lily grinned. “I gaslight him into thinking it’s no big deal. Works like a charm.”

“Susie?” Y/n turned to Susie Wolff, the ultimate WAG and wife of Toto Wolff. If anyone knew how to manage an F1 man, it was her.

Susie sipped her espresso like a woman who had seen it all. “Toto is different. He’s not the one in the car, but believe me, he’s more dramatic than any of the drivers.” She sighed. “My advice? Just make sure Lando doesn’t forget to eat.”

“Got it. No messing with his pre-race mood, gaslight if necessary, and make sure he eats,” Y/n recapped. “I can do that.”

Lesson Two: Media Management

“Now, the media,” Alex said, leaning in. “You’re dating Lando. People will analyze everything you do. What you wear, how you look at him, whether or not you smiled when he crossed the finish line.”

“You need to learn the ‘paddock girlfriend’ face,” Kelly instructed. “Not too excited, not too miserable—just engaged enough to look like you care, but also mysterious.”

Lily demonstrated, tilting her head slightly and pressing her lips together in the perfect neutral expression.

Y/n tried to mimic her but ended up looking mildly constipated.

“We’ll work on it,” Carmen assured her.

“And social media,” Rebecca added. “Fans will stalk every post, every like. If you breathe near another driver, they’ll start a conspiracy theory that you’re cheating.”

Y/n groaned. “Oh, fantastic.”

“Just own it,” Kika advised. “If they start a rumor, make it worse. That’s what I do.”

Lesson Three: Surviving the Race

“You are now a part of the emotional rollercoaster that is watching your boyfriend risk his life at 300 km/h,” Susie said with a knowing look. “You will feel stress, anxiety, and possibly rage.”

“If someone crashes into Lando, you are obligated to hate that driver for at least two weeks,” Kelly informed her.

“And you need a coping strategy,” Rebecca added. “I stress-eat.”

“I online shop,” Alex said.

“I start manifesting,” Lily said dramatically.

“I drink,” Kika said, holding up a glass of champagne.

Y/n exhaled. “This sport is insane.”

The women all nodded in agreement.

As the session wrapped up, Y/n felt a new sense of confidence. Maybe she wasn’t fully prepared yet, but she had an elite team of WAGs ready to guide her through the chaos.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from Lando: How’s your first F1 day going?

She smiled, typing back: I think I just joined a secret society.

And so, the newest recruit of the WAG Bootcamp was officially initiated.

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[seelestia]

✧ the gambler and his knight.

aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }

⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★

★ 〜 masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!

“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.

“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”

“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.

aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.

“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”

a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.

(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)

aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.

aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.

aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.

aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”

aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.

“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).

“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”

“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.

(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)

aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)

aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)

a game of russian roulette.

it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.

you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.

“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.

you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.

“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.

“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.

“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.

but he's the only one laughing.

aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.

(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)

“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”

you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.

(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)

“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”

he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.

aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.

“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.

but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”

you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.

“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.

(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)

the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”

on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.

whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.

(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)

aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?

it isn't supposed to turn out like this.

what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.

so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?

think of something else.

kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.

but there's no use.

in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.

(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)

aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.

aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.

“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”

aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.

he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.

aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)

— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡

[cheezritsu]

Itoshi Sae has far more feline traits than those narrow turquoise eyes of his. At the top of your notes app titled “I don’t need a cat, my boyfriend already is one,” is the fact that Sae will never, ever be clingy, will never ask for your touch, and is coy about romance as a whole—but he just has to be near you.

Manshine City is playing Ubers. Ubers cannot resist having a yellow card every time they step on the pitch, and Manshine City pisses Sae off more than even he knows. You’ll press him about that later, because he’s watching the match in your shared bedroom and not the living room television which is not only bigger, but louder like he likes. Why is he fixing your temperpedic to be a damn near 90 degree angle when there’s a perfectly good couch in another room?

“Who’s winning?” You call from the bathroom. You’ve chosen to grab a bar stool from the kitchen to make yourself comfortable as you part your hair into four sections. It’s a hard ritual, but it pays dividends; you noticed that you were shedding a lot less hair when you sat down and pre-detangled before the shower. And you were a little optimistic about your last style and ended up stretching it out a few days longer than you should have. The end result wouldn’t be good to your heart.

You’re half way through finger detangling your section when you realize Sae hasn’t answered you. You lean back, the open door to your bedroom allowing you to catch a glimpse of him. There’s something off about his expression—Sae’s normally indifferent looking, sure, but there is a harder frown etched into his face. And he’s not even looking at the game. He’s glaring at…the door frame?

“Babe,” you say, and it breaks his trance. He looks up at you, but you’ve once again disappeared from his line of sight. That lean back was killing your spine.

“Huh?”

“I asked who was winning.” You carefully two-strand twist the now slippery section together, then use an alligator clip to keep it off your back. It’s kind of crazy how long your hair is now compared to the beginning of the year. You take down your next section, looking up from your lap and-!

“Holy shit!”

Sae gives you an unimpressed look in the mirror. You look at his reflection instead of him when you demand “When did you get in here?”

“While you were daydreaming.”

The tv is off. Or it’s paused. The vacuum of silence is a little uncomfortable. You were doing your hair in an old tshirt; a reprint of Sae’s U20 match jersey. It would make plenty money on the internet, and here you were getting hair products all over it. Sae looks at the front of your shirt with a wrinkled nose. Other reasons your boyfriend is a cat: he needs a fucking collar, and he pulls faces instead of vocalizing.

“What are you doing?”

“My hair.”

You can see his roaming gaze trying to piece together the exact routine you have, but he’s struggling. Before another quip can leave his mouth you elaborate. “Pre-detagnling. That way when I wash my hair it has less breakage.” You squeeze your detangler into your hands and slather it into the wetted section of hair you were working on. “I wanna keep what little hair I have.”

You get a real reaction this time—a snort of disbelief. “You have more hair on your head than Aiku has on his entire body.”

You blink. “That’s not really a metric I’m privy too.”

“He’s like a gorilla. It’s gross.”

You hum, but you love Sae’s endless opinions. You can tell he still has some rattling around in his brain that he’s having trouble spitting out. Perhaps he’s finally using a filter around you, or he’s really trying to find just the right delivery to piss you off. It’s 50/50.

He finally settles on, “You hair has gotten really long,” as he’s transfixed by the quick motion of your digits twisting the hair into a long rope. When it drops against the side of your head and he sees where it reaches, he shakes his head. “Like, really long.”

“Thanks,” you smile, and warmth spreads in Sae’s chest. “Weren’t you watching the match?”

“I paused it.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer. “I thought long hair bothered you?”

“It does,” you answer slowly, really trying to keep up with this conversation. Sae pings questions at you like the midfielder he is, but this is a little too quick. “But I think when I was growing my hair out the first time I never shaped it, or did styles with it. There was this girl at a restaurant I went to, like, years ago when I was at the beach with my parents who had long natural hair. She had it pulled back in a satin scarf and had like two little front pieces sticking out.” You create the style by gesturing your hands over your head. Sae’s gaze melts, the usual hard line of his mouth settling into something content.

“She was so pretty.” You have a distant look on your face, and Sae doesn’t doubt you have that crystal clear memory in your head. “I wanted to be as pretty as her. But I didn’t really know what to do with my hair, and it has really hot all the time, so I cut it. I think about it all the time though.”

Sae acknowledges your story with a nod. He traces shape of your curls with his finger, careful not to pull too hard. A soft tug elongated the spiral, and then it snapped back.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Sae suddenly spits, making eye contact with you in the mirror. “I liked it when it was short, and it’s pretty now that it’s longer. I don’t know if I ever told you.”

He hasn’t. Not so bluntly, at least. Sae never needs to occupy his hands, so he doesn’t touch your hair at all, ever, but now he coils the strands around his finger like his own personal fidget. Something stupid balloons in you lungs and press hard against your ribcage. Pride, maybe? Love, probably. You twist your neck and the piece of hair slips from his grasp.

“‘Preciate it,” you reply, adopting his casual air to force down your excitement. Sae’s face stays the same though, and he even goes so far as to press a little kiss to your exposed shoulder blade. He must feel the heat of your skin, because a smirk curls across his face. Oh, you could kill him.

“Alright, alright,” you shoo him. “I gotta get to work. This is just the pre-wash, so I’m going to take a minute in here.”

“I could shower,” he says absently, and before you could even protest, Sae is opening the shower door, rearranging products around the wall to make sure your shampoo, conditioner and wide tooth comb are front and center. “It’ll be warm though, and not scalding hot like you like it.”

“Then don’t shower with me.”

The pipes turn on, Sae’s funger’s dipping under the water the check the temperature. “It’s bad for your skin anyways.”

You don’t even mention it. You probably will halfway through when he’s “unknowingly” doing your hair for you, but it could wait.

[pookalicious-hq]

i don't even like you that much ...

library | navi | more here

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ has anyone noticed that paige has a staring problem, but only with you? tags: paige bueckers x reader, bball player reader, not proof read so many typos, pre-relationship

There’s a difference between zoning out and staring. One is an unconscious habit, the other—a deliberate choice.

And Paige? Well, everyone had started to pick up on the fact that she had a bit of a staring problem. Or maybe it was just with you. No—truthfully, it was undoubtedly just you.

At first, it had been subtle. A glance here, a lingering look there. The way her eyes would find you in the middle of a drill, during warm-ups, or when conversation buzzed around her. It wasn’t obvious—not yet. You never really noticed. You were always too wrapped up in the chaos of the game, the chatter, the moment.

But lately?

Lately, something had shifted.

Now, when your eyes flickered in her direction, her stare wasn’t just lingering—it was locked in. A gaze so steady it felt almost tangible, the kind that wasn’t meant to be caught. And when you actually met her eyes? Her expression would soften, the corners of her mouth curving just slightly before she abruptly looked away, pink blooming along her cheekbones, feigning distraction.

Still, you didn’t think much of it. You weren’t the type to overanalyze, and besides, on the court, your mind was always somewhere else—set on the next play, the next move, the next win.

But the cameras? The cameras saw everything.

The post-game interview was routine. You stood front and center beside KK, answering the usual questions about the game, the energy, the pressure. The lights were hot, the buzz of reporters constant, but you handled it with ease. Paige stood just off to the side, listening.

Or at least, she was supposed to be listening.

What she was actually doing—what the whole world saw—was watching you.

Not just watching. Staring.

The footage caught it all: the unwavering focus, the slight upturn of her lips, the way she unconsciously leaned in every time you spoke. Paige Bueckers, reigning leader on the court, utterly transfixed—like you were the only thing worth seeing.

And by the time the interview hit the internet, everyone had the same thought.

Paige didn’t just have a staring problem. She had a you problem.

And everyone knew she had no intention of fixing it.

a/n: lover girl paige

[valer1esgallery]

Small ways they show affection

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Leaves roses on your desk or bedside table with a small cup of tea/coffee for you in the mornings, even if he isnt there, i feel like he would make you something warm to drink along with his normal coffee he has in the morning. Its not outright said, but he cares alot for you to do this every morning without fail, its become part of his routine now, not that he minds

Mammon

I feel like he would subconsciously play with your hair or your jewelry if you both are together, you both could be lost in deep conversation and he would just reach up and start playing with a strand. If you mention it to him, he would turn red and look away, claiming that he did nothing of the sorts

He gives you small shiny objects like a crow. A small bracelet, a pair of earrings, shiny rocks, coins, a cool leaf he found, he would give you those types of things

Leviathan

Leviathan is pretty socially awkward so you don't really get large displays of PDA from the demon, but if your waiting in line or are in a large crowd, he intertwines your pinkies together or holds onto your sleeve

I feel like he would also pre-save games that he thinks that you would really enjoy, sending you a vague text about saving it for you while his face is bright red behind the screen

Satan

He leaves you little note with quotes from romance novels, i will die on this hill. If he finds a book that he thinks you will like, he will leave the book on your desk with a small sticky note that reads something like 'and for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable, and its all thanks to her/him', cheesy stuff like that

Asmodeus

This man is so into PDA, a arm around your shoulder, his hand on your waist, arms linked together, fingers interlocked, he just loves PDA. But when you both are alone, you could just be talking and you have your legs over his lap, he rests his hand on your calf as you both talk

Alone, his touches are more gentle, more loving. He likes touch, and he feels just resting a hand on your leg or just resting his head on you

Beelzebub

He knows all of your favourite devildom drinks and snacks, he makes sure that he brings enough for you while he's on snack time. Sometimes they don't make it to the house but its the thought that counts!

But when they do, he restocks your small snack draw and leaves some on your desk, making sure you never go hungry

Belphegor

He would give you a small bracelet that he tops up with magic every night so that you don't have bad dreams, Is it annoying? Yes, but is it worth it to see you happy? 100% Yes

He would just lean on you, not out of sleepiness (even though it does happen), he likes to lean against your arm or rest his head on your shoulder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry i disappeared off of the face of the earth for a while, things came up and i was in a massive writing rut for a good long while lol

but anyways, IM BACK :D

This has not been proof read lmao, what should I do next?

[bueckets]

The Prophecy | Part 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Parts: Part One (you're here) | Two

Description: They call her The Prophecy—basketball’s impossible phenomenon, rewriting what it means to be perfect on the court. With a near-flawless shooting record and a mind just as sharp in aerospace engineering as it is in breaking down defenses, her name sparks awe, envy, and relentless scrutiny. But perfection has its cost.

But even legends have weak spots. When a high-stakes matchup against LSU draws the attention of Paige Bueckers—the golden face of college basketball—The Prophecy’s flawless world starts to crack. On the court, they’re rivals, locked in a battle for supremacy. Off the court, late-night texts and shared moments blur the lines between competition and something much harder to define.

WC: 11.9k

Authors Notes: Slow Burn, Competitors to Lovers, SLOW, I'm heavy into world building so expect a lot of story, SMUT in next chapter. I've like proof read 70% there's already 40k words written and I've changed shit up like 40 times by now lol

They say there are two kinds of impossibilities in basketball: the ones you laugh at, and the ones that make you hold your breath. Your entire career has been about the second kind.

The numbers shouldn't exist: 847 shots attempted in college. Two misses. A percentage that makes statisticians check their math and then check it again. The first miss was a seventy-footer your freshman year that hit the rim so perfectly the sound echoed through the arena like a bell. The second? Sophomore year, caught an elbow to the face that had blood streaming down your jersey—the shot still almost went in.

Two misses in three years. They call you The Prophecy because watching you miss is like seeing a meteor strike, so rare that people mark their calendars by it.

Every sports network has tried to explain you. ESPN did a special called "The Prophecy: Breaking Down Basketball's Perfect Player." Sports Illustrated put you on the cover: "The Future Came Early." The New York Times ran a feature: "Harvard's Double Threat: Engineering the Perfect Game." They all tried to capture what makes you different. None quite managed it.

Because how do you explain someone who turned down every basketball powerhouse in the country—UConn, Stanford, South Carolina—to study Aerospace Engineering at Harvard? How do you rationalize someone who spends mornings in advanced fluid dynamics classes and afternoons making impossible shots look like a simple routine?

Your teammates get it, though. They've nicknamed you "Rocket”— partly for your major, partly for how you launch yourself through defenses. You're the heart of a Harvard team that's won three straight championships, turning the Ivy League school into a basketball dynasty that no one saw coming.

But that legacy isn't built on game days alone. It’s forged in moments like these: the hum of anticipation, the camaraderie, the banter that cuts through the tension as the team gets ready to take the court.

They say the silence before a storm is the loudest. But whoever said that never sat in Harvard's women's basketball locker room before a big game.

"I swear to god, if you try to explain zone defense using thermodynamics one more time—" Sierra launches a rolled-up sock across the room that you catch without looking up from your pre-game ritual: left shoe, right shoe, double-knot both, check laces twice.

"That was ONE time," you protest, but Maria's already cackling.

"One time? Girl, last week you tried to break down UNC's press using some dynamic—“

"And it WORKED, didn't it?"

The locker room erupts in laughter, the kind of easy joy that only comes from three years of championships, late-night practices, and inside jokes that no one else would understand. Taylor's already started your pregame handshake sequence; each title has added new moves until it's practically a full choreographed dance. 

"Speaking of Carolina," Jasmine pipes up while adjusting her headband, "did y'all see their point guard tried to claim she's almost as accurate as you?”

"How'd that work out for her?" Sierra grins.

"Shot 3-for-15 against Duke." Taylor shakes her head. "Meanwhile, our girl over here—"

"845 for 847," the team chants in unison, then breaks into laughter again.

You roll your eyes but can't hide your smile. 

"Yo, check this out though," Sierra's scrolling through her phone. "LSU's talking mad shit on Twitter. Their center says she's gonna 'expose the myth’ tonight."

Tonight's game against LSU has been circled on calendars since the schedule dropped. Defending national champions versus the team that's rewriting what's possible in college basketball. 

The banter continues as everyone goes through their pregame routines. Maria's got her headphones in, mouthing the same Drake lyrics she's been using since freshman year. Taylor's meticulously re-taping her ankles for the third time. Jasmine's practicing her crossover in front of her locker, adding a little extra flair each time.

That's when Coach Matthews steps in, game face already set. The room doesn't exactly go quiet- this team's never been good at that, but the energy shifts— focuses.

"Ladies," she begins, but Sierra can't help herself.

"We know, we know, sold out crowd, national TV, time to show them why they call us the best team in the country."

The locker room buzzes with the easy confidence of a team that knows what they're capable of. You've all been together three years, grown from underdogs to unstoppable. 

Coach tries to look stern but fails. "I see three rings have made you cocky."

"Nah, Coach," Jasmine grins. "We were cocky before the rings. Now we’ve just proven that we were right all along.” 

The team cracks up again, but you catch something in Coach's expression, a mix of pride and concern. Her eyes find yours across the room. You know what she's thinking: LSU's not here just to play basketball. They're here to make a statement. To prove that Harvard's dynasty, your perfect record, all of it, is just smoke and mirrors.

You peek out at the arena as you head to warm-ups. Every seat filled, signs everywhere:

"The Prophecy Has Spoken: Harvard by 20"

"845/847 ≈ Perfection"

"Future WNBA GOAT"

"Rocket Science + Basketball = 🐐"

The student section erupts with enough thunder that you’d think there was an earthquake outside as you step onto the court. Three years, and the roar still hits different every time. Your teammates spread out for warm-ups, but you can feel every eye in the arena tracking your movement.

"Remember freshman year?" Sierra bumps your shoulder as you start stretching. "When you were still trying to convince everyone you were just 'pretty good' at basketball?"

You laugh, remembering that first practice. You'd shown up in glasses and a Harvard Engineering t-shirt, trying to downplay the high school highlights that had ESPN calling you the next Sue Bird. Then you went 50-for-50 in shooting drills.

"Pretty good," Taylor mimics, feeding you the ball. "Meanwhile Sports Center had a ticker counting your made shots."

The ball feels alive in your hands as you start your warm-up routine. Crossover, behind the back, step-back three. Swish. The Harvard crowd counts each made shot, a tradition that started your freshman year. They're at "thirty-seven" when a murmur ripples through the stands like a shift in the air pressure.

That's when you see them.

The entire UConn women's team, filing into their seats behind your bench. Their presence is magnetic, commanding, like the world has suddenly shifted to center on them. Your breath catches for just a moment, but you keep moving. Eyes forward, muscles loose. Don’t look. Don’t look.

Your gaze flickers up, and that’s when it happens. Paige Bueckers—UConn’s golden child, the face of their dynasty—locks eyes with you. The briefest of seconds, but it feels like a spotlight on your skin. She's not just watching; she's studying. Calculating.

Without breaking stride, you add a little extra spin to your next move. A crossover that’s sharp enough to slice, a step-back three so effortless it’s almost insulting. Swish.

"Showing off for UConn?" Maria teases, but her voice feels distant, barely cutting through the thrum in your chest. You don’t answer. The crowd is at "forty-two" now, and so is Paige. You can feel her counting.

"Please," you roll your eyes, draining another three. "They're the ones who showed up to our house."

The arena's practically vibrating now. LSU's warming up on the other end, trying to look unbothered. Their coach keeps glancing your way, everyone knows their game plan will revolve around stopping you. Good luck with that.

"Rocket!" Jasmine calls out. "Give them the space shot!"

It's another team tradition. End of warm-ups, you launch one from near half-court, high enough to clear the International Space Station. The crowd holds its breath as the ball arcs through the air—

Bucket.

The place goes absolutely nuclear. Even some LSU players stop to watch the replay on the jumbotron. You don't celebrate, just turn and jog back to the bench, but you catch Paige Bueckers leaning forward in her seat. Yeah, she felt that one, too.

In the huddle, Coach Matthews keeps it simple. "They're going to try to get physical. They're going to try to get in your heads. But what do we do?"

"Let the scoreboard talk!" the team responds in unison.

You look around the circle—these girls who've become family. Sierra, who's never met a defensive assignment she couldn't lock down. Maria, whose no-look passes seem telepathic. Taylor, who crashes boards like gravity's just a suggestion. Jasmine, whose trash talk is almost as legendary as her three-point shooting.

The starting lineups are announced. LSU's players get scattered applause, but when they call your name, the sound is deafening. "At guard, a junior from Boston, Massachusetts, averaging 32.5 points per game, shooting 99.8% from the field—The Prophecy!"

You high-five down the bench, each teammate adding their own flourish to the routine. The crowd's chanting now:

"M-V-P! M-V-P!"

But you're already in game mode, that familiar calm settling over you. You can feel Uconn’s members watching from the stands, feel the weight of every expectation, every camera, every scout with an NBA team's future in their hands.

The referee holds the ball at center court. LSU's center—all six-foot-five of her—tries to stare you down.

You just smile. They have no idea what's coming.

The game opens exactly how LSU planned: double-team before you even touch the ball. Their guard and forward shadow your every move, leaving gaps all over the court. Rookie mistake.

You catch Maria's eye, give her the smallest nod. She drives right, drawing attention, while you slip backdoor. The defender realizes too late—you're already airborne, catching the lob one-handed. The rim's still shaking as you get back on defense.

"That's my point guard!" you shout, giving Maria her props. The crowd's already going wild, and you're only thirty seconds in.

LSU tries to establish their post game, but Sierra's having none of it. She strips their center clean, and suddenly you're off to the races. The ball finds you at the three-point line. One defender recovers, rushing at you with a hand up.

Time slows. You see every option: the drive, the pass, the shot. But there's something poetic about making the hardest choice look easy. You rise up, release. The defender's hand grazes your wrist—doesn't matter. Swish.

"And The Prophecy strikes first! Two possessions, two baskets!" The announcer can barely contain himself. "She's making this look like a shoot-around!"

Your teammates are feeding off the energy. Taylor's owning the glass, Jasmine's picking pockets, and Maria's threading passes through impossible angles. By the six-minute mark, you're up 18-7, and LSU calls their first timeout.

"They can't guard you for shit!" Sierra laughs as you huddle up. She's right—they've tried three different defensive schemes already.

Coach Matthews keeps it tactical. "They're getting frustrated. Gonna start trying to bump you off your spots. Stay composed."

You nod, taking a quick swig of water. Your eyes drift to the UConn section. KK Arnold shoots you a smile which you return. Sierra’s shown you enough of her Tik Tok’s for you to recognize the Freshman.

Back on court, LSU switches to a box-and-one. Four players in a zone, one dedicated to face-guarding you. Cupcake stuff compared to what you see in practice.

You set up on the wing, let them think they've got you contained. The defender's playing so tight you can smell her shampoo. Maria starts her drive, draws the zone's attention. You wait... wait...

Then it happens. Quick as thought, you plant your back foot, cut hard to the corner. The defender's still turning when you catch and release in one motion. The ball hasn't even hit the net before you're heading back on defense.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The announcer's losing it. "The Prophecy with another! She's 5-for-5 to start the game!"

The Harvard student section's going ballistic. Even your teammates are shaking their heads—three years, and you still find ways to surprise them.

LSU's getting chippy now. Their forwards are throwing elbows on screens, talking under their breath. You've seen it before: when skill isn't enough, they try to get physical.

"Yo Rocket," Taylor mutters after a particularly hard screen. "They're hunting."

You just nod. Let them hunt. You didn't get here by backing down.

With two minutes left in the first quarter, they try to trap you at half-court. Two defenders, both bigger, trying to muscle you into a mistake. You hit them with a crossover so nasty the crowd gasps. Split the double-team, euro-step around the help defense, and finish with a finger roll that looks like it defies gravity.

The LSU coach is screaming now, face turning purple. Nothing's working. Every scheme, every adjustment, every physical play, you've got an answer for all of it.

Ten seconds left. You let the clock drain, waving off the screen from Taylor. Your defender's in perfect position, textbook stance. Doesn't matter.

You rise up from NBA range, the defender's hand right in your face. The ball arcs high, the crowd holding its breath—

Swish. At the buzzer.

Harvard's bench explodes. Your teammates mob you as you head to the sideline, perfect quarter in the books. 15 points, 6-for-6 shooting, 3 assists. Just another day at the office.

"Show off," Sierra teases as you sit down.

"Actually," you grin, slipping into your best professor voice, "according to my calculations, that was just the warm-up."

The team cracks up. This is what the cameras miss, what the stats can't show. The joy of playing the game you love, with people you love, at a level few have ever reached.

But LSU's huddle looks different now. There's an edge to their expressions, a darkness in their eyes. They're not just losing—they're being embarrassed on national TV.

You've seen that look before. It usually means someone's about to do something stupid.

Second quarter opens with LSU trying something new: they're running a full-court press, getting extra physical on every possession. Their coach has clearly given them the green light to push boundaries.

"They big mad now," Jasmine laughs as she inbounds the ball to you.

You weave through the press like it's a morning jog, finding Maria with a no-look pass that has the crowd buzzing. She drains the three, and you make sure to flex for the LSU bench on the way back. Their coach calls for a substitution, sending in Williams—their enforcer, known for walking the line between aggressive and dirty.

"Heads up," Taylor mutters as she runs past you. "Number 32's got that look."

You've seen players like Williams before. They show up in every big game, thinking they'll be the one to throw you off your rhythm. They usually learn.

The next possession, Williams tries to bump you off your cut. You absorb the contact, spin away like water, and catch the ball in perfect position. She's still recovering when you rise up for three. Nothing but net.

"That's 20 for The Prophecy!" The announcer's voice carries over the roar. "Still perfect from the field!"

The Harvard student section starts a new chant: "YOU CAN'T GUARD HER!" 

You spot some NBA scouts courtside, furiously taking notes. There's already talk about you leaving early, being a top pick. But that's future stuff. Right now, there's just this game, this moment, this next possession.

Williams is getting frustrated. Each bump gets a little harder, each screen a little later. The refs are letting them play physical, and LSU's taking full advantage.

"Yo Rocket," Sierra says during a free throw. "Want me to accidentally trip her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "Nah. I got something better planned."

Next play down, you call for a clear-out. Everyone knows what's coming, your teammates, the crowd, even the UConn section leans forward. Williams squares up, trying to look tough.

The move is pure poetry: crossover so quick it looks like the ball's on a string, between the legs, behind the back. Williams lunges, trying to stay in front. That's when you hit her with the step-back, creating just enough space to rise up.

The shot is perfect before it leaves your hands. Williams can only watch as it drops through, pure silk. The crowd absolutely loses it.

"SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Jasmine screams, running past Williams, tongue out in mockery. "But not for her!"

Even some of the LSU players are trying not to smile. What else can you do when you're watching someone operate on a different level?

That's when you notice Paige Bueckers isn't just watching anymore—she's studying. Taking in every move, every counter, like she's downloading your game for future reference. You catch her eye for a split second and there's something there: not just respect, but recognition. Game recognizing game.

The half continues like a highlight reel. You're seeing everything in slow motion: every cut, every screen, every defensive rotation. It's like playing basketball in IMAX, everything crystal clear, every possibility visible.

With three minutes left in the half, Harvard's up 45-28. The game's starting to feel less like competition and more like an exhibition. That's usually when things get dangerous.

You see it coming in slow motion: Sierra bringing the ball up court, Williams setting up for what looks like a normal defensive position. But there's something in her stance, something in her eyes.

Williams launches herself at Sierra, sending her crashing into the scorer's table with a sickening crack. The crowd gasps as Sierra crumples, blood already streaming from her nose.

The arena goes dead silent.

Then everything happens at once. Your teammates rush to Sierra. Jasmine gets in Williams' face. The refs are blowing whistles. But you, you're standing perfectly still, a different kind of calculation running through your mind.

Three years of friendship. Three championships. Countless late-night study sessions where Sierra helped you with orbital mechanics homework while you ice your knees. All those moments flash through your mind in an instant.

You start walking toward Williams, and something in your expression makes everyone—teammates, refs, even the crowd—go quiet.

The silence in Lavietes Pavilion is deafening. Blood drips from Sierra's nose onto the hardwood—each drop echoing like thunder in your ears. Your teammates are surrounding her, but your focus is laser-locked on Williams, who's still trying to act tough, shoving Jasmine.

"Get the fuck out my face," Williams snarls, pushing your teammate back.

You cross the court in long, measured strides. Your teammates part like the Red Sea, something in your expression making them step aside. Williams turns just as you reach her, and for the first time tonight, you see fear flicker across her face.

The crowd holds its breath. Every phone is up, every camera pointed at this moment. Even the refs seem frozen, waiting to see what happens next.

You step right into her space, close enough that only she can hear you. Your voice comes out low, deadly calm. "Touch my teammate again," you say, each word precise as a scalpel, "and I promise you'll regret ever stepping foot in this fucking gym."

Williams tries to maintain her tough act, stepping forward. "Oh yeah? What you gonna—"

"Try me one more time," you cut her off, voice even quieter now, "and when I catch you outside this gym I’ll make sure you don’t get back up.” 

The refs finally restore order, whistles blaring. Technical fouls all around. As you check on Sierra—her nose definitely broken but she's insisting she can play—you hear the murmur rippling through the crowd. Nobody's ever seen you like this. The Prophecy's always been about grace under pressure, about making the impossible look easy.

This is something else entirely.

Coach sends you to the bench to cool off. You end up near the Harvard section, your teammates who aren't on the court surrounding you like a protective wall. Behind them, the UConn section hasn't made a sound, but you can feel their attention like a physical weight.

"I've never seen you like that," Taylor whispers, a mix of awe and concern in her voice.

"Nobody touches our people," you say simply, eyes locked on the court where LSU is shooting their free throws.

Sierra's getting patched up beside you, tissues stuffed up her nose. "You know I've taken worse hits in practice," she tries to joke.

“That’s beside the point." Your voice is still deadly quiet. "They came into our house thinking they could punk us. Thinking what—because we're Harvard we're soft? They can suck my dick.” 

The energy in the arena has shifted. Your teammates are fired up, talking amongst themselves. The crowd's still buzzing, cameras alternating between you and Williams. But you're not playing for them anymore. This isn't about highlights or SportsCenter or draft stock.

When the buzzer sounds for you to return, your teammates stand as one. "Light them the fuck up," Sierra says through her swollen nose, and the team erupts in agreement.

You step back onto the court, and the ball finds its way to your hands like it's meant to be there. Williams tries to meet your eyes, but she flinches when she does. She knows what's coming.

They all do.

The ball leaves your hands before their defense can set. Swish. 34 points.

Maria screens Williams hard—legally, but with extra emphasis. You curl around it, catch, release. Swish. 37.

"The Prophecy is taking no prisoners now," the announcer's voice carries over the chaos. "This isn't just basketball anymore, folks. This is personal."

Each possession is a message. No more fancy moves, no more style. Just pure, devastating efficiency. Catch and shoot. Drive and score. Again and again until the numbers blur together and the only sound in the arena is the whisper of the net.

Williams tries to guard you on a switch. You look her dead in the eye as you rise up. She knows it's good before you even release. 45 points.

The fourth quarter becomes a massacre. Not just because of your scoring, but the way your whole team moves now—like sharks that have tasted blood. Every screen is a statement. Every cut is a challenge. Harvard basketball isn't just winning anymore; they're sending a message.

With thirty seconds left, Harvard up by 35, Coach tries to sub you out. You wave her off. There's one more thing to do.

You catch the ball at the opposite baseline—ninety-four feet from your basket. The crowd realizes what you're about to attempt and rises as one. Williams is still trying to guard you, bless her heart.

You don't even look at the basket as you launch it, eyes locked on hers the whole way. The ball soars through the air, high enough to scrape the rafters. Time seems to stop as 4,000 people hold their breath.

Swish. As pure as a layup.

The arena explodes. Your teammates storm the court as you take off on a victory lap, tongue out, arms spread wide. The Harvard band is playing, the student section is losing their minds, and somewhere in the chaos, you catch Paige Bueckers standing up, shaking her head in amazement.

December hits Boston like a cold slap to the face. Three months since the LSU game, and Harvard's still undefeated, 12-0, ranked #2 in the country. Tonight's the game everyone's been circling: #1 UConn at Harvard. The Game of the Year, ESPN's calling it. Every headline is the same story in different words: you versus Paige, like the rest of the teams are just here to watch.

You haven't spoken to any of the UConn players since that night in your locker room. Sure, you see the occasional Instagram story when Jasmine reshares KK's posts (they're dating now, apparently, something that started with DMs and turned into weekend visits), but, that's about it. You don't even follow Paige Bueckers on social media. Why would you? 

"Earth to ____,” Sierra waves a hand in front of your face during warmups. "You good?"

"Yeah," you snap back to reality, draining another three. "Just locked in."

The arena's packed to the rafters, twice as loud as the LSU game. During layup lines, you catch glimpses of the UConn players, especially Paige, who moves with that same fluid confidence you remember. She's got that look in her eyes, the one you recognize in your own reflection: the quiet certainty of someone who's never doubted their greatness.

Your pregame outfit, fitted black turtleneck under your warmups, gold chain catching the light, has already made its rounds on social media. “She looks SO good!!” is trending on Twitter, complete with fire emojis. Not that you care about that stuff. (But okay, maybe you spent an extra minute on your appearance today. Professional reasons only.)

The game starts like a prize fight, both teams trading blows, neither willing to blink first. Paige opens with a three; you answer with a step-back jumper. She hits a floater; you counter with a drive that leaves her defender spinning. It's not personal, you tell yourself. Just basketball.

By the first TV timeout, you've both got 8 points and the crowd's already losing it. The energy's different from the LSU game, no cheap shots or trash talk, just pure, elite basketball. Almost like you're speaking the same language, even if you're on different teams.

"Yo," Maria whispers during a free throw, "is it just me or is Bueckers playing extra hard when she's guarding you?"

"Everyone plays hard against me," you shrug, but you've noticed it too. The way she locks in, the extra intensity in her defense. Like she's got something to prove.

The second quarter is where you start to take over. UConn tries everything, double teams, box-and-one, even a triangle-and-two. Nothing works. You're seeing the game in slow motion again, every passing lane, every defensive rotation crystal clear. By halftime, you've got 24 points on perfect shooting, and Harvard's up 48-39.

In the tunnel heading back out, you pass Paige. There's a moment— brief but loaded— where your eyes meet. She gives you this little nod, competitor to competitor. Nothing more. (But why does it feel like something more?)

The second half is a masterclass. You're not just scoring anymore; you're conducting an orchestra. No-look passes to Sierra for corner threes. Behind-the-back feeds to Taylor for breakaway layups. And when UConn makes their inevitable run in the fourth, you shut the door with a sequence of moves so filthy they'll probably end up on SportsCenter's top 10.

Final score: Harvard 89, UConn 78. Your stat line: 38 points, 9 assists, still haven't missed a shot this season. The handshake line is respectful, none of that LSU energy, and when you reach Paige, her grip is firm, professional.

"Good game," she says simply.

"You too," you respond, and mean it.

After the media obligations, your phone buzzes. It's Jasmine: 'Bar. Tonight. Both teams. No excuses.'

You consider begging off, you do have that Thermodynamics problem set due Monday, but something makes you change your mind. Professional courtesy, you tell yourself. Networking.

The bar is one of those trendy spots where the grad students pretend they're not drowning in student debt. You show up fashionably late in black jeans, a cream-colored silk shirt, and boots that add an extra inch you definitely don't need. The teams are separate at first, Harvard at one end, UConn at the other. Only Jasmine and KK bridge the gap, wrapped up in their own world.

You stick with your teammates initially, nursing a Moscow Mule and trying not to notice how Paige looks in a baggy jeans and a button up when she arrives with some of her teammates. The groups slowly start to mix as the night goes on, pulled together by Jasmine and KK's gravitational field.

"So," UConn's shooting guard, Emma, ends up next to you at the bar. "You always play like that, or were you just showing off?”

You arch an eyebrow, a light smile tugs at the corner of your lip. "Just playing my game." 

"Right," she smirks, ordering another drink. 

You change the subject, asking about their upcoming schedule. Basketball is safe. Basketball makes sense.

The night continues, groups shifting and reforming. You end up in a conversation with some UConn players about the WNBA draft, carefully maintaining your distance when Paige joins the discussion. But you can't help noticing things: how she commands attention without trying, the way her laugh carries over the bar noise, how she seems to know exactly where you are in the room at all times.

Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe, you’re just down bad.

"Paige is single, you know," KK says later, appearing at your elbow with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

"Good for her," you say neutrally, even as something flutters in your chest.

"Good for you, you mean," KK mutters, dodging the half-hearted shove you send her way before melting back into the crowd.

The night winds down, groups splitting off for Ubers, some players already making plans for late-night food. You're standing near the door, tugging your coat tighter around you against the Boston chill seeping in, when you hear your name.

You turn, and there she is, bathed in the hazy glow of the bar's neon sign, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. For the first time all night, it's just the two of you, the noise of the bar fading into a distant hum.

"Good game tonight," she says, and it’s almost funny how understated it sounds after the week of media buildup and ESPN countdowns.

"Thanks." You pause, letting the silence stretch. "You too."

Her smile tilts, like she knows exactly what you’re doing. "You don’t have to play it cool all the time, you know."

"Who says I’m playing?" you counter, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, quirking up just enough to give her the edge.

Paige steps closer, the space between you shrinking but still electric. "You’re good, Rocket. Even better than the headlines give you credit for."

"Don’t tell me you came out here just to boost my already inflated ego," you say, leaning back just enough to keep the balance of power from tipping entirely her way.

"Maybe," she says lightly, though the way she holds your gaze feels heavier than that. "Or maybe I just wanted to see for myself what all the hype’s about."

"And?"

Her smile deepens, slow and deliberate. "I wasn’t disappointed."

The air between you crackles, her words lingering in a way that feels deliberate, intentional. But before you can decide what to say—or if you should say anything at all—one of her teammates calls her name from the curb.

She glances back, then at you again. 

"Don’t overthink your game plan," you say.

"And you don’t underestimate mine," she calls over her shoulder, her voice light but the glance she throws you anything but.

You stay there a moment longer, the cold biting at your skin but your chest feeling oddly warm. As you finally step outside, something about the night feels unfinished—like a play halfway through its best scene.

As you slide into the car, you realize your heart's racing—and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Maybe KK was right. Maybe this is good for you.

Later that night, lying in bed, you find yourself replaying moments from the game. Just the game, you tell yourself. The way she moves on court, like water finding its path. Her defensive intensity. Her competitiveness that mirrors your own.

Your phone buzzes: a follow request on Instagram from Paige Bueckers on your private Instagram.

You stare at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. Finally, you press accept. No big deal. Just professional courtesy.

But you can't help smiling as you set your phone down.

March suddenly feels very far away.

That night, sleep feels impossible. The win keeps looping in your mind—every play, every shot, every moment after the final buzzer. You’re still riding the high, but it's the interactions off the court that keep replaying, too. The way Paige’s eyes locked on yours during the game, that quiet intensity between you two. It was almost like there was something unspoken, an invisible thread pulling you together.

You try to shake it off as you lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Eventually, you post a late-night story: just you in your Harvard champion sweatshirt, hair a little messy, looking tired but satisfied. Caption: “some nights hit different 🏀✨"

You're not thinking about anyone in particular when you post it. Really. No, seriously.

But a couple of minutes later, your phone lights up with a notification: "paigebueckers viewed your story."

You freeze. Your heart does that annoying skip, the one you wish you could ignore. You try to play it cool, but the small smile on your face gives it away.

Before you can stop overthinking it, another story pops up from Paige. It’s her on the team bus, the weariness on her face somehow just makes her look even more perfect. Caption: “good games make you better. great games change you. 📈"

You stare at the story longer than you should. Three times, maybe four. Then you catch yourself. No, you're not doing this. You’re being professional. Totally. You swipe past it, but not before watching it once more—just for, you know, "research purposes."

Wednesday practice, you’re on the floor with Sierra, trying to explain orbital mechanics while stretching out your legs. The routine’s familiar, your voice calm and focused, like you’re explaining a simple layup. "So basically, if you account for gravitational force and initial velocity—"

"Rocket," Sierra interrupts, "you've been checking your phone every thirty seconds."

You look at her, feigning confusion. "Have not," you protest, but your fingers are already reaching for your phone, like they’re on autopilot. You can’t help it. Paige posted a drill video this morning, just pure basketball content—nothing that special, just her hitting a perfect jumper, maybe some footwork drills, nothing groundbreaking. You dropped an eyes emoji in response. Professional admiration only. That's it. Nothing to see here.

"Right," Sierra raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. "And I'm sure you've watched every other point guard's practice clips fifteen times too."

You give her a deadpan look. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you say, reaching for your foam roller and throwing it at her.

Thursday afternoon finds you in Advanced Fluid Dynamics, usually your favorite class. The equations and concepts feel like second nature to you, but today, your thoughts keep drifting elsewhere. You keep finding yourself thinking about basketball — about how certain players move like water, finding the path of least resistance, flowing through defenses with a grace you can’t help but admire.

You’re not sure if it’s the subject of the class or the strange pull you’re feeling, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glance down discreetly. It's a notification from Instagram: Paige has liked your last three posts.

Including one from six months ago.

You blink. The screen feels like it’s glowing too brightly in your hand. You immediately glance around, making sure no one saw you checking, before quickly hiding your smile behind your textbook.

Because yeah, you definitely didn’t mean to feel this giddy. But here you are.

Friday night, you're in bed scrolling through film when you get the notification. Paige posted a new story: her at the gym, late night shooting session. Caption: “late-night grind. gotta stay sharp for what’s ahead. 😤"

Before you can overthink it, you reply: "living rent free in that head huh? 😌"

Three dots appear immediately. Your heart rate picks up.

just practicing for march 😘

You stare at that emoji for a solid minute. Professional rivals don't use kiss emojis. Right?

Saturday morning practice rolls around before you can even process what happened last night. Your mind’s still buzzing, trying to dissect the interaction with Paige, but you push it aside. Focus. You can think about that later.

As you’re stretching before drills, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When Coach catches you grinning at it, she narrows her eyes.

"Whatever’s got you distracted better help us win games."

You quickly stuff your phone back in your bag, fighting to keep a neutral expression. "It’s just a text. No big deal."

"Sure, sure." Coach raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You try to shake off the grin still tugging at your lips. Definitely not in the middle of a debate with Paige about whether Kobe or Jordan had the better footwork. No. Definitely not.

Sunday night in the library, you're supposedly working on your Thermodynamics problem set. But your eyes keep flicking back to UConn's schedule page, calculating when they’ll be back in the northeast. You try to focus, but you find your thoughts drifting back to Paige.

A message pops up: "Shouldn't you be solving rocket equations or something?"

You bite back a smile, tapping out your reply: “shouldn't you be working on your left hand? Saw that weak drive yesterday 😴"

A few seconds pass. The dots appear, then disappear. You try not to let your heart race.

Finally, the response comes: “wow. and here i was about to say your last IG fit was 🔥"

You stare at your screen, biting your lip. The banter is easy, but there's something else there—something electric. Your pulse thuds louder than usual as you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keys. It feels like there's more hanging between you than just jokes. Did she feel it too? You quickly swipe back to your notes, trying to shake the feeling

Something that makes your skin buzz.

Tuesday, 2AM. You can’t sleep. Again. But this time, it’s different. The nervous energy swirling in your stomach isn’t from the game. It’s... something else.

Your phone lights up with a message:

you up?

Your breath catches in your throat. Two words. That’s all it takes.

You hesitate for just a second, fingers poised over the screen, and finally reply: “depends who’s asking 👀”

A beat. Three dots.

just your future march matchup.

You feel a grin tug at your lips, even as you try to keep your response cool. 

bold of you to assume you’ll make it that far.

guess you’ll have to wait and see.

You can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out. There’s something about these late-night exchanges that feels different.

You roll over, pulling your blanket tighter, trying to convince yourself it’s just another game, just another rival. But when your phone buzzes again, you’re already looking forward to her next message.

A month after the game, your phone buzzes again as you’re reviewing game film late at night. You glance at the time—1:47 AM. Too late to be analyzing, but you can't help it. The game keeps replaying in your head. Then another message appears:

you always study film this late?

You glance at the reflection of your laptop in the dark screen of your phone. It’s like she knows. You smirk, replying.

how'd you know i was watching film?

saw your laptop reflection in your glasses in that last story

Something warm settles in your chest. You didn't think anyone had noticed those details.

stalker much? 🤨

just scouting the competition 😌

You're about to reply when three dots appear again.

want company? i'm looking at our clemson tape

Your heart skips a beat. You weren't expecting this. You pause before responding, a nervous twinge running through you.  "facetime?"

Seconds later, the call comes through. You almost hesitate, but there’s something about it that pulls you in. You accept, suddenly hyper-aware that you're in your oversized Harvard hoodie, glasses perched on your nose, hair tossed into a messy bun.

When her face appears on the screen, you’re momentarily struck. She’s wearing a UConn sweatshirt, hair tied back, no makeup. She’s raw, real—like you’ve caught her in an unguarded moment, and for some reason, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"So," she starts, then seems to lose her train of thought. "Um. Basketball?"

You laugh, some of the tension breaking. “Uh-huh.”

"Listen," she grins, "I'm better at talking with a ball in my hands."

The conversation shifts easily into basketball, the two of you sharing screens and breaking down film together. She catches things you miss, and you point out nuances she hasn’t noticed. The back-and-forth flows—something about it feels natural. Like you’ve been doing this for years.

Hours pass without you even realizing it, and suddenly you’re talking about other things: favorite movies, worst recruiting stories, childhood dreams.

"Wait," she's saying through laughter, "you really wanted to be an astronaut AND a basketball player?"

"Still do," You shrug, trying to play it cool, even as something inside you aches with the lightness of the moment. "Who says I can't be the first WNBA player in space?"

Her expression goes soft for a moment. "You know what? If anyone could do it..."

There's something in her voice that makes your skin tingle. You clear your throat. "Anyway, uh, it's late."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "This was... this was nice."

"Yeah," you agree, not quite meeting her eyes through the screen. "Maybe we could do it again sometime y’know?”

"I'd like that."

Neither of you moves to hang up. The silence stretches, full of things unsaid.

Finally, she breaks it: “Well, goodnight, Rocket."

The nickname hits different in her voice at 4AM.

"Night, Paige."

You end the call, staring at your screen for a moment before you finally fall back onto your bed. The silence is deafening, but your mind is racing. You force yourself to calm down, to let your heart slow to a normal pace.

Then your phone buzzes again:

sweet dreams 🌙

You definitely don’t replay the entire call in your head. Definitely not.

And you certainly don’t dream about the way she looked when she laughed at your space joke.

Definitely not.

You’re sprawled on the couch in the apartment you share with Jasmine and Sierra, supposedly reading your Aerospace Engineering textbook. Actually, you're doing everything you can to avoid looking like you're grinning at your phone. The cursor keeps blinking in the reply box, like it’s daring you to type something stupid.

"earth surface temps are literally insane rn"

"why are you even awake?"

"says the girl who's also awake 🤨"

"homework doesn't count"

"nerd 🤓"

"bet you won't say that to my face"

"bet i will. next time i see you"

"when's that gonna be? 👀"

A part of you knows you should be focused on the problem set in front of you. But instead, your thoughts keep drifting back to the screen, to her messages. You bite your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. There's something different about this—about her—that you can't quite put into words. Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast for it to just be casual.

"Oh my GOD," Jasmine’s voice startles you, making you jolt and nearly drop your phone. She's leaning over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with that grin that’s a little too knowing for comfort. "You're texting Paige!"

"What? No, I'm—" you fumble your phone, nearly dropping it. "I'm doing homework."

"Mmhmm." Jasmine vaults over the couch to land beside you. "That's why you're making the same face I make when KK texts."

"I do not make a face."

"You literally look like this—" Jasmine demonstrates an exaggerated dreamy expression that makes you throw a pillow at her.

"I'm going to KK's this weekend," she says after dodging the pillow. Her voice is deliberately casual. "UConn has a home game Friday. You should come."

Your heart does a little flip. "I have that Physics midterm Monday..."

"Right, because you definitely weren't just texting about wanting to see her."

"I wasn't—" you start, but your phone buzzes again, Paige’s name lighting up the screen in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

"Girl," Jasmine says, softer now. "It's okay, you know? To want something besides basketball."

You stare at your phone, fingers hovering again over the keys as those three dots show up. Paige is typing, and your chest tightens. Your heart’s racing now, too fast for this to just be some rivalry. You’ve never felt this way about an opponent before.

"It's complicated," you finally manage, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

"When is it not?" Jasmine squeezes your shoulder as she gets up. "Think about it, okay? KK says the whole team's been asking about you anyway."

Later that night, Sierra finds you on the roof of your building. It’s your thinking spot—the place where you go to clear your head when the world feels too loud or when the equations refuse to make sense. Tonight, though, the equations have nothing to do with physics.

"Spill," Sierra says, sliding down to sit beside you.

"What?"

"You've been different lately. Good different, but different." She bumps your shoulder. "And I saw you smile at your phone six times during practice today."

You let out a long breath. The city lights blur below you, and somehow it feels easier to talk without making eye contact.

"I think... I think I like her," you say finally. The words feel huge in the quiet night air. "Paige, I mean."

"No shit," Sierra laughs softly. "I figured that out when you watched her coffee story four times."

You blink, feeling caught. "You saw that?"

"Girl, everyone saw that." She pauses. "The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

You lean back against the roof, your gaze on the stars that are barely visible through the light pollution of the city. "I don’t know. It’s complicated," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "We’re rivals, and we’ll probably face each other in March. If the media got wind of us, it’d be a circus. Not to mention—" You cut yourself off, because it sounds even worse when you say it out loud.

"Okay, forget all that for a second." Sierra interrupts, her voice quieter now. She turns to face you, her eyes soft. "How does she make you feel?"

Your breath catches in your chest. How does Paige make you feel? You think about those late-night video calls that always start with film study but end with laughing over something stupid. About how she remembers little details about your life—like your favorite late-night snack, your favorite places on campus, or how you sometimes still get nervous before big games.

"Like I can be both," you say finally, the words tumbling out before you even realize their weight. "Like I can be The Prophecy, but also just... me."

Sierra's quiet for a long moment. Then: "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you've spent three years being perfect. Maybe it's time to be happy instead."

You stare at the stars, trying to find your footing in this new reality that feels both foreign and exciting. "I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Sierra nudges you, her tone playful again. "Then at least try. You deserve it."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. You pull it out, heart skipping when you see the name on the screen: Paige. The message.

 miss watching film with you

Sierra leans over to peek at the text, a grin spreading across her face. "Smooth," she says, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Is that why Jasmine invited you to Connecticut this weekend?" Sierra asks, an eyebrow raised.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "She told you?"

"Girl, I’m not blind," Sierra says, standing up. "Please. She’s been planning this whole setup for days. And you know what? You should go."

You look up, your gaze meeting hers. "I don’t know. The physics exam is coming up, and—"

"Physics will still be there when you get back," she interrupts, her voice light but serious. "But this? This might not be here forever."

You chew on that for a moment, the weight of it settling in.

"She’s waiting for you to say something," Sierra says quietly, her gaze flicking between you and the screen.

You hesitate, then smile softly to yourself. This is your chance.

You type back: "guess you'll have to come study in person sometime."

Sierra gives you a teasing look. "Oh, it’s on now."

Your phone buzzes again, and this time, Paige’s response comes quickly: "is that an invitation?"

Your fingers hover over the keys for a moment, and then, with a deep breath, you reply: "maybe. you gonna show me around campus?"

The message comes back almost immediately: "only the important spots. like where i practice my weak left hand drives 😏"

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter, your heart light and carefree for the first time in what feels like forever. Sierra shakes her head, smiling fondly at you.

"You’re totally down bad, huh?"

"Shut up," you laugh, feeling the warmth of it rush through you. But even as you tease her, you feel it too—this rush of excitement, the anticipation of something new, something that could change everything.

Sierra heads for the roof door, pausing just before she goes inside. "Hey Rocket?"

"Yeah?"

"Just... be careful, okay? Not because of basketball or rankings or any of that stuff. Just... because your heart's on the line too."

You nod, your chest tight as the weight of her words settles in. "I will."

She gives you one last look before disappearing inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your phone, and the lighthearted texts you’ve been sending all night.

Another buzz from Paige lights up your phone: "but seriously. come this weekend? i want to see you."

Her response makes your whole body warm: "can't wait 💫"

You stay on the roof a while longer, letting the night air cool your flushed cheeks. March feels both too far away and too close, but right now, in this moment, you let yourself focus on a different kind of countdown:

Three days until Connecticut.

The minute you step onto UConn's campus, you remember why being The Prophecy is complicated.

"Oh my god," you hear someone whisper. "Is that—"

"Holy shit, that's really her—"

"The Prophecy is here—"

You pull your hoodie up, hoping for some anonymity, but it’s futile. Jasmine’s already ditched you to find KK, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos, awkwardly clutching your duffel bag. You check your phone, hoping for a distraction, when you see a text from Paige.

how’s campus so far? are you surviving the hype? 😂

You type back quickly, trying to act casual.

surviving. But UConn is like a zoo. 🙄

Before you can put the phone down, a text buzzes again.

i’m in the quad, come meet me? i’ve got your escape route ready 🏃‍♀️

You smile at her message, your nerves a little lighter now, but that doesn't make the reality of the situation any less surreal.

"Should I just text her when I get there?" you mutter to yourself, typing out a quick reply:

on my way. see you soon.

The crowd's whispers grow louder, and as you move through the sea of students, your phone buzzes again, this time with a message that makes your heart skip a beat.

turn around

You turn, and there's Paige, looking unfairly good in joggers and a UConn hoodie. For a second, you both just stare at each other, all those late-night texts and video calls suddenly feeling very different in person.

"Hi," you manage, hyper-aware of the growing crowd pretending not to watch. "Um. Nice campus."

"Thanks, I—" she starts, just as you say, "Should we—"

You both stop. Laugh nervously. God, where did all your game go?

"Yo, Paige!" some guy calls out. "Is that The Prophecy? Can we get a picture?"

Before either of you can respond, the crowd swarms in like a tidal wave. Students materialize from every direction, phones out, voices overlapping, and it’s all happening too fast. You’re caught in the whirlwind of questions and flashes.

"Can you sign my jersey?"

"Is it true you haven't missed a shot since high school?"

"Are you really majoring in rocket science?"

"Can you do the space shot right now?"

It’s nothing new. You've done this a thousand times, but today, it feels different. You're hyper-aware of Paige standing there, watching, her gaze unreadable. Her eyes flick from the crowd to you, amusement playing at the corners of her lips, but there’s something else there too.

You keep your composure—signing autographs, taking selfies, answering questions—but it’s harder when she’s so close. You try not to look over at her too much, but you catch her looking at you once. And her smile? It makes the whole world feel lighter, even in the chaos.

Then someone from the crowd asks, “Yo, did you come to see Paige?”

You freeze. All eyes are suddenly on you, the crowd waiting for your response.

“Just checking out the competition,” you say smoothly, though your heart skips a beat. But then you catch the subtle curve of Paige’s lips as she tries to hide her smile.

“She's already kicked our ass once,” Paige adds, her voice playful. “Maybe I’m trying to learn her secrets.”

The crowd laughs, and the tension in the air eases. You finally manage to break free from the swarm, and Paige leads you out of the madness, pulling you toward a quieter part of campus. She glances over at you as if to gauge how you’re holding up, and then says, “Sorry about that. I probably should’ve warned you… You’re kind of a big deal here.”

“Here?” You raise an eyebrow. “Not just at Harvard?”

She rolls her eyes with that charming little smirk of hers. “Please, you know what I mean.”

She bumps your shoulder lightly, and for a second, you’re both frozen in that little moment, and then—quickly—she steps away, as though surprised by the contact. She rubs the back of her neck awkwardly before continuing, “The perfect record? The space shot? Your major? You’re like basketball mythology at this point.”

The words settle over you, like a weight that makes you stand a little straighter. It's odd, but you can't deny the truth in what she’s saying. You pass a group of girls, and they absolutely squeal when they spot you. One of them is wearing a t-shirt with your number and "The Prophecy" written on the back, and it's like you’ve stepped into some weird alternate reality.

"That's..." you start.

"Weird?" Paige offers.

"I was gonna say flattering, but yeah, weird works too."

She chuckles, a little breathless, as you continue walking. You can’t help but notice how she looks at you—like she’s caught between admiration and something else.

By the time you reach the athletics center, the crowd starts to thin, but there's still a palpable buzz in the air. Students part for you like you're some kind of celebrity, whispering as they pass.

"—never misses, like ever—"

"—turned down every WNBA scout—"

"—heard she's already got a NASA job lined up—"

"—next GOAT for sure—"

You can’t hear it all, but enough of it sticks to your skin. You make eye contact with a few of the UConn players as you pass, and they do double-takes. The whispers don’t stop. The world still hasn't figured out how to react to you, and you’re still trying to wrap your head around it yourself.

When you get inside the locker room, you spot KK, draped over Jasmine on a bench. She sits up as soon as she sees you, and a wide grin spreads across her face.

“The Prophecy graces us with her presence!” KK announces, her voice carrying through the room.

You and Paige both turn to each other, saying “Shut up” at the same time. You exchange a glance, and immediately, you both look away, your cheeks heating up.

“Oh my god,” KK stage-whispers to Jasmine, her voice dripping with mischief. “They’re actually awkward. This is adorable.”

“I will literally murder you,” Paige threatens, but her face is flushed, the playful tone in her voice not matching her serious words.

You drop your bag, trying to act casual despite your racing heart. "So, this is where the magic happens?"

"Something like that," Paige responds, her voice quieter now. Then, her tone shifts, just a little, as she adds, “Want to see where I practice those trash left-hand drives?”

Her smile is nervous but hopeful, and something in your chest flutters in response. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes meeting hers.

"Lead the way, Bueckers."

The gym is quiet, empty this late—just the two of you and the space stretching out around you like a vast, hollow echo. The squeak of your sneakers against the court floor seems louder than usual, and the rhythm of the ball bouncing between you is a steady heartbeat in the silence.

You grab a ball, the motion automatic, instinctual. Some habits don’t break just because your heart’s doing backflips.

"So..." you start, dribbling slow, almost hesitant. Your palms feel too hot on the ball, like everything about this moment is too much, too close, but you can’t pull away.

"So..." she echoes, her voice low, mirroring your movements with a fluid ease that makes your pulse pick up a little faster.

"This is..." you trail off, looking for the right word. Something that fits the electric tension hanging in the air. 

"Weird?"

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. "I was gonna say nice," you add, voice a little softer, but still trying to brush it off, to keep control. "But yeah, weird too."

She laughs—just a soft sound, but it breaks something between you. You feel your shoulders loosen, and the tightness in your chest starts to ease. "Want to play? Or are you scared I'll ruin your perfect record?" Her words are light, playful, but there’s an edge of something else there. Something beneath the surface.

"Please," you scoff, but the words come out softer than you expected, a little breathless. "You couldn’t guard me with a restraining order."

Her smile widens, but her eyes stay locked on yours, sharp, like she can see right through you. "Big talk from someone who's been stalking my coffee stories."

You nearly drop the ball at that. "I— that’s not—" You choke on your words, heat rushing to your cheeks, the sudden shift in conversation throwing you off-balance.

"Four views," she grins. "I counted."

"Professional research," you manage, trying to ignore how your face is burning.

"Right." She steps closer, her body moving fluidly, effortlessly, still dribbling the ball with that same steady rhythm. "And all those late-night texts?"

"Scouting reports," you shoot back, but your voice cracks, betraying the lie.

"The two-hour video calls?"

"Film study," you mutter, voice barely a whisper.

"And coming to Connecticut?" Her tone shifts—lighter, but with a question in it now. A challenge in her eyes, daring you to say something.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding against your chest. "Would you believe advanced aerospace research?"

She's too close now. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, feel the heat radiating off her as she steps forward just enough to close the space between you. The ball’s still bouncing, the rhythm matching your heartbeats, and you can hear the beat of her pulse too—steady.

"Try again." Her voice is soft, but the challenge in it is unmistakable.

You take a breath, the air thick with something unspoken. "Maybe... I just wanted to see you."

The ball stops bouncing. It’s almost like everything around you freezes for a second. The echo of the gym fades out, and all you can hear is the steady thrum of your heartbeat, racing now, too fast, too loud.

Her eyes search yours, the gold flecks in them catching the light, and for a split second, everything feels suspended. She doesn’t move. You don’t either. There’s a moment between you, raw and exposed, like you’re both just standing there, waiting for something to happen.

Then, her phone buzzes, breaking the stillness—KK, asking where you both disappeared to. The moment shatters, and you both step back, like you’ve both just been jolted awake.

"We should..." she starts.

"Yeah," you agree quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Team dinner, right?"

"Right." The word comes out like a sigh, a soft release, but neither of you move for a beat.

You both head back toward the locker room, but it feels like the distance between you has doubled, despite being only a few feet apart. You’re careful to maintain some space, but the air around you still crackles with the memory of the moment.

Just before you reach the door, you feel the lightest touch on your wrist. It’s a shock to the system, warm and soft, and you freeze.

"Hey."

You turn to face her, heart still thundering in your chest, your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm glad you came," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavier than anything she’s said so far.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, your mind a blur, trying to make sense of the shift in the air between you. Before you can speak, though, she’s through the door, vanishing into the locker room, leaving you standing there, breathless.

You stand there for a moment, your heart still racing, trying to collect yourself. The touch of her fingers on your wrist is still warm on your skin, like an electric spark that lingers long after the contact ends. You can still feel the weight of her gaze on you, the way she looked at you just before she left—open, vulnerable, and for a second, everything in you just... paused.

You’re so fucking screwed.

Inside, KK takes one look at your face and starts laughing immediately. "Oh yeah," she says to Jasmine, her voice full of knowing. "March is gonna be interesting."

You throw a towel at her, but you can't help smiling. Because yeah, March is going to be complicated. But right now, watching Paige try not to look at you while she gets ready for dinner, you can't bring yourself to care.

Some things are worth the complication.

The team’s already piled into the upscale Italian place, the kind of restaurant where the hostess gives your group a double-take, eyes wide as she tries to figure out if you’re all really who she thinks you are. Emma starts giggling beside you, and you can’t help but let a laugh slip too. The entire UConn starting five, plus you, Jasmine, and a couple of bench players, fill up the space like a small parade. The table’s enormous, but somehow, fate—or possibly KK—decides that you should sit next to Paige. You know it's not her doing, but the thought of it makes your stomach do flips. Definitely not subtle.

Your knees brush under the table, and you both jerk away so fast it feels like a live wire just zapped both of you. It’s... a weird moment, but it’s over quickly.

"So," Caroline leans in, practically smirking with that devious look of hers. "We finally get to hear how The Prophecy got her name."

"Oh god," you groan, sinking back in your seat, hoping to disappear into the padded booth. But Paige perks up next to you, eyes lighting with interest.

"Wait," she says, "I don’t know this story."

You shoot Emma a glare, but she’s already opening her mouth, ready to spill the beans.

"Nobody tells it," you warn, but Emma's already launching in.

"Freshman year," Emma begins, her voice a little too loud in the suddenly quiet room, "first practice. Coach put her through this insane shooting drill—"

"It wasn't insane," you protest.

"Hundred shots from five spots," Emma continues, undeterred. "Most freshmen hit, like, sixty percent if they’re lucky. She goes perfect. Coach thinks it’s a fluke, makes her do it again. Perfect again."

You can feel Paige’s eyes on you, her attention sharp and focused. You don’t know how to feel about it, but you try not to squirm under her gaze.

"Third time," Emma's building to it now, "Coach says 'What are you, some kind of prophecy?' And right as she says it, this girl—" she points at you, "—sinks a half-court shot backward without looking."

"I was stretching!" you defend, but the table's already losing it.

"The name stuck," Caroline finishes. "Even before the no-miss streak."

"Speaking of," Tessa jumps in, her voice suddenly a lot more serious, "how do you actually do that? The never-missing thing?"

The entire table quiets down, all eyes suddenly fixed on you. Even the waitress, hovering nearby, pretends not to listen, but you catch her glancing over every few seconds.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention on you, but the pressure isn’t all bad. You glance over at Paige—she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to focus. She shifts slightly closer, and it makes your heart race.

"I just..." You pause, unsure of how to explain the weird, inexplicable thing that happens when you’re on the court. "I guess I see it differently. Like, you know how some people have perfect pitch in music? They hear things that other people can’t even pick up on?"

Nods around the table.

"I see angles that way," you continue, trying to sound more confident, but you’re still not used to talking about it. "Trajectories, force vectors... like physics and the feel of it—they just... merge in my head, I guess?"

Jasmine, who’s been watching you this whole time, cuts in with a smirk. "She’s being modest. Yesterday, I watched her solve a quantum mechanics problem while sinking thirty straight threes."

You roll your eyes. "Multitasking," you mumble, but Paige’s knee brushes against yours again. This time, neither of you pulls away, and your concentration goes from laser focus to absolute mush. You feel heat rising in your chest, but you try to keep your voice steady.

The conversation shifts, but you’re barely listening anymore. Every little movement from Paige, every time her hand brushes your arm as she reaches for her water, every time she leans in a little closer to hear you speak—your mind is barely keeping up. Her perfume is subtle but intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"Y'all should see her in class," Jasmine's saying. "Professors literally use her as an example in physics."

"One time!"

"Three times," Jasmine corrects. "Remember when Dr. Peterson used your jump shot to explain projectile motion?"

KK, who’s been silently watching you both like this is her personal reality TV show, grins. "No wonder half the team has a crush on you."

You nearly choke on your water. Paige freezes next to you, and you can feel the shift in the air.

"I mean," Caroline chimes in, clearly trying to smooth over the tension, but only making it worse, "who wouldn’t? Best player in the country, genius-level IQ, and look at her—"

"Okay!" Paige cuts her off, a bit too loudly. "Who wants dessert?"

The change in pace is enough to shake everyone out of the sudden tension. But as dessert menus are passed around and people start laughing again, your mind is still racing.

Later, as the group walks back toward campus, you notice how easily the team starts to scatter. KK and Jasmine vanish into the distance almost immediately, making some excuse about practice. The rest of the team drifts off to their own plans—study groups, dorms, whatever—but you and Paige end up walking together, side by side in the cool night air, the sound of your footsteps the only thing breaking the silence.

"So," Paige says, her voice soft but a little uncertain, "the hotel’s that way."

You glance at her. "Yeah."

Neither of you turns toward it.

"I have, um," she starts, then stops. Takes a breath. "I have a single. In my dorm. If you wanted to watch a movie or something."

Your heart goes into overdrive, doing flips and twists like it might just leap out of your chest. The words feel stuck in your throat, but your mind is running wild.

"Or something?"

Even in the dim streetlight, you can see her blush. "I didn't mean— I just thought—"

"I'd like that," you cut off her rambling, and the smile she gives you makes your knees weak.

Her room is exactly what you'd expect - basketball posters, team photos, neat desk with game notes spread out. What you don't expect is how intimate it feels, being in this space that's so completely hers.

"Make yourself comfortable," she gestures to her bed, then immediately looks panicked. "I mean, you can sit— I'll take the chair—"

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe."

She laughs, some tension breaking. You sit on her bed, back against the wall, and after a moment she joins you, careful to leave space between you.

"So," you say.

"So," she echoes.

"Half the team has a crush on me, huh?"

She groans, covering her face. "KK has the biggest mouth—"

"Just half though?" You're pushing it, you know you are, but something about the way she's blushing makes you brave.

She lowers her hands, looks at you directly for the first time since dinner. "You know exactly how many people have a crush on you."

"Do I?"

Her eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second. "You must."

The air feels thick, charged. Your hand is on the comforter between you, and slowly, so slowly, her pinky finger hooks over yours.

Just that small point of contact sets your whole body on fire.

"Paige?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't come to Connecticut for film study."

She turns her hand, letting her fingers intertwine with yours properly. Your breath hitches.

"I know," she says softly.

You sit there for what feels like hours, neither moving except for her thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles. The touch is so light, so careful, but it feels like the most intense thing you've ever experienced.

"I should..." you start reluctantly.

"Stay," she says quickly, then blushes harder. "I mean, it's late, and the hotel's far, and—"

"Okay."

She blinks. "Okay?"

You squeeze her hand gently. "Okay."

Later, lying in her bed (she insisted, taking the floor despite your protests), you stare at the ceiling in the dark. Your hand still tingles where she touched it.

"Rocket?" her voice comes softly from below.

"Yeah?"

A pause. Then: "I'm really glad you're here."

You close your eyes, smiling into the darkness. "Me too."

Neither of you mentions March. Neither of you talks about rankings or rivalries or what any of this means. For now, there's just this: her steady breathing in the quiet room, the lingering warmth of her touch, and the feeling that something huge is beginning.

Just before you drift off, you hear her whisper something that might be "perfect." But you're already falling asleep, wrapped in her blankets that smell like her, dreaming of basketball and physics and the way her hand felt in yours.

Some equations, you think hazily, don't need solving.

Continue to part two.

[jjjjisun]

Pre-Game Ritual (Part 1)

Minju X Male Reader | 16075 words

TW: Incest

—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

They were at it again.

Y/N and his girlfriend were always cautious when their parents were around, but if it was just his little sister Minju left in the house, they didn't have a care in the world. It was funny, too, because Minju and her brother never had the 'you won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?' conversation. She could have easily just hinted to her parents what was going on after they left the house.

But ultimately, Minju wasn't going to do it. Her brother was usually sweet to her. Besides, if ever Y/N did something to piss her off, she had his afternoons with that awful girlfriend Eunju to hold over his head.

Eunju let out one more dramatic moan, and she couldn't take it any longer. Minju grabbed her phone and running shoes and made for the door. As she closed it behind her, she was relieved to hear only the breeze blowing through their front yard.

Running was Minju's way of taking her mind off things. As soon as she took her first stride, her frustration began to melt away. The fact that her big brother was inside fooling around with his obnoxious girlfriend didn't matter anymore when her favorite song came up on her beloved running playlist.

Her routine kept her sane, and it was also why Minju was one of the fittest girls she knew. At 5'-6" and 105 lbs., she was proud to be in such good shape; it made a hard run all the easier. And though she hated to admit it, seeing the eyes of neighborhood boys and husbands follow her as she ran by was a rush.

Minju didn't have a boyfriend; that was probably part of her frustration with her brother and his bedroom antics. It wasn't that she didn't want one; it was more that nobody had come along with whom she felt compelled to start a relationship. Either they were silly boys her age, eighteen and immature, or they were older and with transparently lustful intentions toward her.

Minju could see what Eunju saw in her brother. He was twenty, smart, handsome, and yet very unassuming. Being a quarterback on his college football team probably didn't hurt, but he wasn't a colossal jock the way most might have expected. Family-oriented, driven, respectful... Y/N was the works. Why couldn't more boys like him approach her than the guys she was used to?

That's also why she held such high standards for him. Not only was he handsome, with short brown hair and masculine features that already resembled her dad, but he was just an all-around good guy. Eunju didn't deserve him; Minju always felt that Y/N had just fallen for her fast like he always did and that he liked the quarterback cheerleader cliché, too. Whatever, she thought, he'd only been with her a few months, and she could always hope things wouldn't work out.

Minju wondered if maybe her brother would set her up with one of his friends when she rounded the corner heading back to their house. She was intimately aware of how much her boobs were bouncing in her workout top when she passed Mr. Taylor's house; he was such a creep he might as well have blown her a kiss as she passed him while he was watering his flowers.

Minju's tits... They'd been trouble since they showed up in her early teens. Boys at school stared like they'd never seen breasts before in their lives. Men, too: men who were way too old to be gawking at a teenager would pretend they weren't trying to get a look down her shirt. Even her brother! Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a sentence if she accidentally showed them too much. Maybe 'accident' wasn't the right word. Y/N was the only one she teased on purpose, perhaps because she knew he could do nothing about it.

When she ran up to the driveway, Y/N and his bimbo were on the front porch.

"Good luck tomorrow, baby," Minju heard her say.

"Thanks," her brother replied, "I'll see you after the game?"

"You'll see me at the game!" Eunju said, standing up tall to kiss her brother on the lips.

"You know I don't look over there. I can't be distracted." Y/N reasoned.

"Yea, yea, I get it. Mr. Quarterback can't take his eye off the ball," Eunju said, lovingly touching her brother on the chest.

Minju couldn't help but laugh at the flirty way Eunju said it. She'd tried her hardest to get to the door, but she was thirsty and didn't want to listen to it anymore.

"O...M...G...ARE-YOU-DONE!" She chanted, mocking one of the standard cheers, "CAN-I-GET-IN-THE-FUCKING-DOOR?"

Y/N laughed at his little sister's attitude. He'd seen her running up and knew he'd get an earful when his girlfriend left.

"Very funny, Minju," Eunju said, unimpressed, "Though I hope that's not what you'll be trying out with next year."

"Ugh..." Minju sighed, cocked her hip, and fluffed her ponytail "Should I dye my hair blonde instead?"

Minju shot a nasty look at her brother. He was NOT supposed to be telling anyone on the cheerleading team that his sister would try out it if she got accepted at his school. Even though she couldn't stand many of the girls on the team, she still loved cheering. Being close to the game, getting the crowd engaged, and staying in shape - all of it appealed to Minju, and she had her eyes on doing it for her brother's team if she got in.

Content with the frown on Eunju's face, Minju simply shouldered past her brother and headed inside. He took a moment to say his last goodbyes before following his little sister into the kitchen. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her tilting the bottle back and witnessed a few drips falling onto her chest as she gulped it greedily. The light glisten of sweat on her abs, the tight-fitting workout clothes...oooph. Despite having recently fooled around with his girlfriend, a hot girl was a hot girl, related to him or not. Sometimes, he wished his sister understood that the way he did.

"Why do you always gotta give her such a hard time?"

Minju almost laughed out loud, wanting to say something about her brother giving the dumb blonde a 'hard time' himself.

"Hey, if you are gonna bring your ditzy girlfriends around the house when mom and dad aren't home, I'm gonna reserve the right to make fun of them."

Y/N had difficulty arguing with that. He admired his sister's tenacity most of the time. She knew what she wanted, and she was vocal and rambunctious - everything he wanted in a girlfriend. She was probably right anyway. Eunju didn't knock him out with anything but her looks. And even then, the girl standing right before him was far more attractive. He was sure he could find someone that was right for him; Eunju was simply right for right now.

"Hey, Minju'," he said to her. She wanted to be mad at him, but she loved it when he called her that. "I'm sorry about the cheerleading thing. Eunju put two and two together, and I told her you'd probably try out."

"Two and two huh? Did Eunju finally pass remedial math last semester?" Minju quipped, narrowing her eyes after she'd said it.

Even though he could see her glare, Y/N knew she wouldn't stay mad at him. She only had a few hours each week, if that, to see her brother. He'd come home on Friday and stay the night before his Saturday game. They lived close enough to campus that he would be off before she awoke the next day and went to see him play. Eunju was a part of the weekly routine, but Y/N always got rid of her before it even got dark.

She always wondered how he managed to do it. Minju felt like girls were pretty dramatic when it came to quickies like Eunju seemed to come over for. One weekend, she'd heard the stupid blonde say something like, "...if it helps you play better, then I don't mind!" She hadn't made much of it then; Minju was glad to hear Eunju saying it on her way out.

"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you," Minju said, walking towards her brother and stopping when she smacked the almost empty water bottle against his chest and held her hand there, "I'll be picking the movie tonight."

Y/N rolled his head back and smiled, glad everything was cool between him and his little sis. Maybe he'd even convince her to give him a back massage later if he played the "It'll help me play well tomorrow" card.

Things went as they usually did that night. Minju even agreed to massage her brother's shoulder for a bit, even though she made sure to get a dig in about how he wasn't even a starter. Y/N had fought hard with his coach for his nights at home. Sure, seeing his girlfriend when most other guys were forbidden was a big plus. But he loved seeing his little sister and was so glad she always freed up her Friday nights for him before the game.

They just got along so well. Close in age as they were, Y/N and Minju had a lot of common interests. Football and video games, music, and crappy TV, they typically had a blast every Friday and Y/N went to bed once again, happy to spend time with his little sister. Their parents always did date night on Friday, so they'd only be home shortly before he went to bed.

Sometimes Y/N felt guilty, but more and more he was seeing his little sister in a... different light. She'd grown up fast. Not only was she more mature, but her body was too. He was often confused by how much he enjoyed having her around. He tried to reason that being near a pretty, youthful brunette would always be desirable. She just happened also to be his sister, and as long as he kept his hands to himself everything would be fine.

Typically, that's the way things worked out. Yet, Minju felt just as comfortable as her brother did around her. So, as she sat there massaging his naked shoulder and seeing how huge and muscular he'd gotten since starting college, Minju had some of the same issues her brother did. She also loved being around him, and not just because of how much he made her laugh or how she could talk to him about anything. She loved massaging his back because it was the closest she'd gotten to an attractive guy, and this one didn't try to touch her ass or her boobs whenever he got the chance.

She was only wearing a crop top and her favorite sweatpants, which she rolled and wore low at the waist when she remembered her brother had commented dressing inappropriately around him. Minju had brushed it off... and then wore seemingly less every time he was over after that. Hey, she thought, if he could get off while their parents were out and then get a massage out of her, she could at the very least, feel sexy and comfortable at the same time. His stare didn't bother her one bit.

The next day was incredible. Y/N wasn't a starter, so he'd begun the game uniformed but sitting on the bench. He was only a sophomore but next in line to start as quarterback for the prestigious college team. Things weren't going well for the starter. He fumbled in the first quarter. The offense struggled and only got one field goal out of four or five possessions in a row as the first half was nearing its end. When the QB threw his second interception, and the whistles sounded at the end of the half, Minju was buzzing in her seat that her brother might get his chance.

He'd played before, but only a quarter or a few minutes here and there. They entered the locker room, and Minju's mom touched her shoulder.

"Wouldn't it be great if your brother started the second half?" She said, looking excited.

Minju's heart beat faster. "You think he will, Dad? Do you think Oppa is going to start?"

Her dad raised his eyebrows and said, "I know what I'd do if I were the coach... he just might."

"You think he's ready?" Minju's mom asked her father.

A passing memory took Minju as her parents chatted about her brother's workout routine. Eunju had said something that other day when she'd overheard them. "...gotta make sure you're ready," she'd said, or something like that. Why was she remembering that now?

Sure enough, as halftime ended Y/N ran out of the tunnel with his helmet on. He was going to play.

He looked shaky as he lined up for his first snap. This time, seeing him on the field felt a little different. They were coming from behind, and her brother wasn't just a quick substitution; he was meant to be the solution.

He handed the ball off twice, but they still had a few yards to get the first down. It looked like they were keeping the ball out of the air and in the unknown hands of her brother. But when they lined up and Y/N called for the ball, he dropped back to pass it.

Minju held her breath the whole time.

'Pass it Oppa...!' she screamed inwardly.

... COME ON PASS IT!

And then he did.

It was a beautiful throw - a bullet right across the middle.

The receiver was brought down right away but well beyond the first-down line. The whole crowd cheered, and Minju and her parents locked arms and jumped up and down. He'd done it; she was so proud.

After that, Y/N was everything he needed to be. They didn't do anything too crazy, and he was playing pretty safe, but in no time, they were near the end zone, and Minju was clenching her mom's arm tight until he threw a perfect pass to the back corner for a touchdown.

Minju felt like she knew exactly why girls were so drawn to quarterbacks at that moment. Here she was, screaming like a complete fool and jumping up and down in her team sweatshirt, yelling her brother's name and practically in tears. Dam,n does he look good in that uniform, Minju thought as he trotted off the field to let the kicking team on.

The rest of the game was a haze. She was so excited to see her brother finally playing as she was, but Minju almost couldn't handle it that he was leading them to a win. When the final second ticked off the clock, and it was her brother holding the ball, she giggled outright as he threw it up in the air in his excitement.

The team rallied and celebrated on the field, and her family was allowed to walk on while the rest of the crowd shuffled out of the stadium. Y/N hugged their mom and dad, picked Minju up, and spun her around in a circle. Minju could feel the sweat on his pads and the heat radiating from him until he set her down with a huge smile.

"I think it was all because of the shoulder massage, Minju," he said, "this ball's for you."

Minju felt him push the ball into her midsection like she had the water bottle into him the day before.

"You were so awesome, bro," Minju praised, "but you better take this thing back before somebody tries to tackle me."

"You mean like me!" He said, bending down to grab her waist and picking her up again, slinging her over his shoulder like it was nothing. Minju screamed and kicked, but he didn't set her down until he'd made her sufficiently dizzy. Their parents looked on and laughed the whole time.

Minju saw her brother's girlfriend looking at them from afar, clearly displeased that she wasn't getting all the attention. It gave Minju an odd sense of satisfaction, even if their relationships with her brother differed.

"You better go do the same thing to Eunju," Minju whispered when her brother put her down. She looked jealous."

Y/N sighed knowingly and gave his sister a hasty, final hug. Saying goodbye to his parents and Minju, Y/N ambled over to talk to his cheerleader-girlfriend. Minju couldn't help but notice him looking in her direction over Eunju's shoulder as she was leaving.

-

After that, things blew up. People went on and on about how poised her brother was in the game despite having minimal experience. He started in the away game the following week, and they won. It was a close game, and Y/N made some mistakes, but watching him on television, she couldn't help but see all of the strengths that people had been touting in the write-ups of his first big performance.

Minju congratulated her brother via text, and he quickly responded that he was looking forward to a Friday at home the following week.

-I bet you would have made that pass at the end of the first half if you had a shoulder massage!-

[I bet you're right. Do you think I'm a big loser for wanting to hang out with my little sister on a Friday night?]

Minju blushed, even though she was alone in her room with the lights off.

-Are you kidding, a loser? Did you SEE the game I just did?-

-Oh, that's right... you were that stud quarterback who WON it!-

[Thanks Minju, I can't wait to see you next week.]

God did he love his little sister, Y/N thought. He was in a cab on the way out to celebrate the victory that night, and all he could think about was how great it would be to talk through all the plays the way he had on the phone with Minju after his first game. Inevitably, there would be a thousand girls throwing themselves at him that night, but Y/N felt sure none of them could match his little sis. Maybe he was wrong, but first and foremost, they were hungry to sleep with a football player, and most of them wouldn't even be as attractive as Minju. If only she wanted that too, then he'd have the whole package. 'Ugh,' he shook off. It was probably the booze talking.

Minju wished they'd seen his potential from the very start. Her brother started and won every game for the rest of the season, which was already more than half over when he'd first come out onto the field for that fateful second half. Because they had enough losses before that, there wasn't much left to make of their season when Y/N stepped in, but there was a lot of talk about the season to come.

And each week, each home game at least, Minju and Y/N hung out just the two of them for as much time as they could. She couldn't stand that he insisted on Eunju coming over, hearing them in his bedroom after she got home from school, but glad to see her leave shortly after. Y/N had insisted that their parents give him time to himself (with Minju...and Eunju), and they'd obliged, given his success on the field.

Their time together was usually the same: a movie and a lot of talking about what was going on in their lives. But for Minju, her feelings were slowly evolving. She couldn't help it. Everybody was talking about him. Her parents were so proud, and girls at school went on and on about how hot he was. Being that he was the quarterback of the state college team, the exposure meant constant reminders of him everywhere Minju went.

So her attitude toward him was gradually changing whether she knew it or not. She'd often lay on top of her shirtless brother for a long time after kneading his back, just enjoying the deep bass in his voice that vibrated her chest as they bantered. Minju began to crave that time with her brother, cuddling seemingly closer every week when they watched a movie. She simply wanted to be with him.

And Y/N was no dummy. Despite being a big, burly football player, he was quite smart, or so he told himself. It wasn't as if he didn't notice that his little sister was not so resistant to touch his back anymore or that she was wearing seemingly less and less every time she came downstairs for their movie. Yet, it still felt... natural. Many girls were throwing themselves at Y/N nowadays, but Minju had earned his attention rather than exploited it, and he liked giving it to her.

There was this one day he'd almost called her out for it. She might as well have been naked... well, not quite, but perhaps the fact that he'd never seen her naked, and this was as close as he'd get, was why he kept his mouth shut.

The underwear was enough to make him shiver: an orange-ish pair of panties, simple but tight at each curve and the gap between her thighs. They had a white edge that he followed with his eyes as it wrapped around her tiny waist and those damned legs of hers. But then the shirt, or was it a sheet? This draped white thing with a big curved neck exposed her almost from shoulder to shoulder. The tiny sleeves were all that held it up. And, of course, it didn't reach more than halfway down her upper half. His little sister's entire midsection, perhaps one of his favorite parts of hers, was left entirely to his view.

Both of the small pieces of clothing looked somewhat transparent. Y/N wanted to look long enough to determine whether he was seeing the dark circles of Minju's nipples or the tiny dark slit at the gap between her thighs, but he tore his gaze away before it became inappropriate. He couldn't believe that you could buy clothing like that or that his little sister was wearing it around him. Did it look that good on other girls because Y/N was practically hard during the entire movie, and wondering why his sister would be so brazen around him? Did she know how attracted to her he was that night?

Suddenly, he couldn't get Eunju out of the house fast enough on Fridays, though he believed he needed the release the night before the game. More and more, it seemed like she was just happy to be the girlfriend of the star quarterback; he got a little release when he needed it, and she got to parade him around when she wanted to.

And just like that, the season was over.

The hype continued for a few weeks after their last game. He had to do some interviews and a couple of articles for newspapers and magazines. He was no international star, but the college team fanatics demanded plenty of him. The holidays came and went, and we were busy as usual. Before they knew it, Minju and her brother were well into the second half of the school year.

Sometimes, he couldn't make it on Friday nights to be home with his little sister. Y/N had loaded up his second semester with classes to make the workload easier during the football season. He felt awful, but she understood, making him love her even more.

But when he did make it home, it was awesome. Every time he saw her, Y/N seemed to get closer to his little sister. And she just kept getting more beautiful. She was only recently eighteen, and every day, she became more aware of her body and how to carry herself. Each day on his way home, Y/N guiltily looked forward to what his little sister might wear that night.

Sometimes, he wondered if the two of them were toying with each other, playing with the possibility that one of them might do something rash. But he knew how happy it made Minju to have someone like him that she could entirely rely on to make her feel comfortable; he didn't want to ruin that. He didn't know that Minju was struggling to respect him similarly. But they loved their time together so much that it didn't matter.

They were starting to talk on the phone regularly or at least text when he hadn't seen her in a while. They were so busy with schoolwork, sports, and training that they marked their weeks by the time they talked to or saw each other. Sooner than both Y/N and Minju could have imagined, pages of the dog calendar their mother hung in the kitchen flipped by, and the summer was upon them.

Y/N had trained almost daily for the upcoming football season. He'd never expected his responsibilities to become important to him, his coaches, or his team. Add to that, finishing up a semester of college, and his schedule was chock-full. The first week of summer would be a much-needed breather, but then it would be off to summer training camp. He even had time to spend with his family and a few days hanging out with only his little sis. They took a day out on the lake together, went to dinner one night, and even agreed to go shopping with her the day before he left for summer training camp.

"I don't want you to go," Minju said, her big, green, puppy-dog eyes looking teary. She dreaded that this would be the first summer she didn't get to spend with her brother.

"Do you have to?" Minju asked sadly, feeling her brother's big, strong arms wrap around her in the middle of the department store.

"I don't want to leave you, Minju, but I want to be at my best for next season. It's gonna be a big year for me." He said regretfully, holding her close enough to catch the subtle shampoo scent in her soft, brown hair.

"We can talk or text any time you want," he promised, pulling back and staring into her sad eyes.

That only made her feel marginally better, but she shook her head knowingly. Y/N held his sister for a while as they walked through the store. She picked out a new pair of sweatpants that admittedly excited Y/N, reminding him of how she usually looked when she'd be wearing them and the time they spent together... how they rode low, and her hip bones were often revealed to his wandering eyes as she laid in front of him on the couch.

"What do you think? She said, coming out of the changing room for the third time.

Minju saw her brother jump when he looked up from the green sweatpants he recognized as the ones she'd picked out. Suddenly, he was looking away like his eyes were burning.

"Minju!" He said, looking back toward her through his hand.

"WHAT?" She mocked, giggling.

"You can't wear that out here!"

He was probably right, she had on the sweatpants, as low as she possibly could wear them. The lines of her toned abdomen led down to what was likely a totally bare pussy based on what her brother could see. But the top wasn't a top at all. It was a sexy, black bra. The lace revealed much of her breasts to her brother's eyes. He'd always been totally caught off guard by how amazing his sister's tits were, but this was more than she'd ever let him see.

"Oh you can look Oppa, stop being such a wuss."

He did slowly look back in his little sister's direction, but it felt like he shouldn't. Yet, as soon as he saw how the black lace pushed his sister's breasts upward and most of the demi-cup left her chest bare, Y/N wasn't about to look away.

"So... what do you think?"

"Incredible..." he said, unwittingly. Minju's breasts had been amazing for years, and now that the rest of her body had caught up, he was like a helpless puppy.

"The sweatpants and the bra?" she asked with a huge grin.

Y/N was so embarrassed. He'd literally just complimented his little sister's tits, her beautiful body... no question there. Thank god she'd let him off the hook.

"I think you should buy them, both of them." He said without flinching.

Minju had never felt sexier. As her brother pretended, poorly, that he wasn't looking up and down every inch of tanned skin she'd revealed to him, she realized how loved it made her feel. Plenty of guys had complimented her before, but nobody made her knees feel weak the way that Y/N did. She turned around and headed back to the changing room after being sufficiently convinced that he'd liked what he saw. Y/N almost exploded when he saw the dimples in her lower back and then their eyes met quickly before Minju perked her little butt up for him once and then closed the door behind her.

Y/N had to take a deep breath. What on earth had gotten into him? And what about her? God damnit did she look breathtaking in even the simple two pieces of clothing. Why did she insist on flaunting it in front of him, and why was he feeling so much like touching her?

Minju walked out of the dressing room wearing what she had on before she went in. Somehow seeing her clothed now got him just as excited. Even the cute flannel shirt and tank-top she was wearing made her beautiful, and he wondered if he'd see the bra and sweatpants she was holding in her hand again before he left.

When Y/N stood, his little sister stopped him before he could exit the changing rooms. Nobody was around; it felt private... intimate as she placed hand on the middle of his chest.

Minju rested her head against him and wrapped her free arm around his back. Everywhere she touched he was just...solid. When his arms encircled her she felt that familiar tingling coursing through her, made stronger as she sensed the strong beat of his heart against her hand.

"I'm really going to miss you, you know that, right?" She said quietly, like she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"I know little one, I'm going to miss you too."

Before he could do or say anything else, Minju stood up tall and kissed him right on the lips. His face had been downturned and his eyes closed as he held her; he didn't even know it was coming.

But her lips were so soft. There was a hint of sweetness on them, and they moved ever so slightly. He shouldn't have been kissing his little sister that way, with his hands around her and the kiss lasting longer than it could have. But nobody could see them, and nobody had to know who they were. In that moment, the kiss felt like the best way to say goodbye.

Minju dropped back from her tiptoes and finally took a breath, realizing how fast her heart was beating. She hadn't planned it, but all of the sudden their lips were together and she didn't want it to end. 'Why did he have to go?' she repeated in her head again and again, knowing the answer but still feeling frustrated.

They didn't get much more after that. They talked and laughed and played around for a bit longer before it was time to go. Even after the kiss, everything just felt ...normal...right. She hated that pulling back into the driveway meant they were all that much closer to her brother leaving for the summer, but she was finally coping with it. She lay awake that night listening to her dad and brother talk in the other room as he packed until she finally drifted off to sleep thinking of Y/N.

Minju went with her dad to take Y/N to the airport the next day, but there would certainly be no more kissing her brother the way they had the day before. She looked down at her feet as her dad was shaking her brother's hand and wishing him good luck before heading back to the drivers' seat.

"Hey," he said, putting his finger below her chin and lifting it up to him. His heart almost broke apart to see that Minju had tears in her eyes. "Ohhh Minju', come on, you're killin' me."

She half giggled, half sobbed as their gazes met.

"I love you little sis, and it's only a few months," he assured her.

"I know," she sighed, "it's just...ughhhh!" Minju stomped her foot on the ground like she was going to throw a fit. She was so upset to be losing her best friend, even if it was only temporarily.

"Just go... you big jerk."

"I'm already marking our Fridays on my calendar for next year, and I'll see you on the sidelines too."

"Okay," Minju agreed half-heartedly, knowing she still had to make the cheerleading team but flattered her brother just assumed she would.

"I love you too," she said finally.

She jerked when her brother kissed her cheek and then squeezed her side like he always did. Watching him walk away, she felt like it was going to be a long summer.

-

It was tough without him, but not unbearable. A couple times a week they would text about what was going on at the football camp or how Minju was choosing her schedule, this and that. She'd gotten into the state college during Y/N's amazing football season and knew she'd be going there from the minute she opened the letter. The program they had for her major was one of the top in the country, so she didn't feel like she was just following her brother to the same college.

In fact, she was looking forward to them being at the same school. Y/N was going to be a junior and Minju a freshman. Despite being very independent and proud of it, Minju had already made some friends due to Y/N's newfound fame. Every time somebody recognized her last name in the programs and orientations she attended over the summer, she felt proud to call him big brother.

Minju looked forward to the times he would call her on the phone. It was always late at night, sometimes waking her up, but Minju was so glad to see his number pop up that she awoke immediately an answered with an excited "hey big bro!"

Y/N could sometimes hear his sister waking. He imagined that she was wearing one of those outfits from their Friday nights at home. Laying in her bed, maybe in just a tiny pair of underwear she felt sexy in, Y/N could hear his little sister yawn and he pictured her tiny frame stretching out under the covers.

Sometimes late at night, their conversations felt so private, almost secretive. Whether it was the fact that they were both in a darkened room with nobody else around or that they weren't wearing much or something else, to Minju it felt kind of naughty. She thought that the way they talked was more like the way she imagined talking to a boyfriend, one she didn't have of course.

And Y/N didn't have anybody but Minju. Eunju would call now and again, but she was... not all that interesting to talk to. Usually, when he hung up with his girlfriend, he couldn't go to bed until he talked to his little sister, hoping to have some meaningful conversation before he finally turned in.

"Hey Minju', how come you never let any of those boys you tell me about take you out on more than a date or two?" Y/N asked her one of the nights when they were both talking in bed a couple hundred miles away from each other.

"Well that's a little personal, isn't it, Mr. Nosy?" she responded.

"Well, seeing as how you asked what Eunju looks like naked, I think we're past being bashful about stuff like this," Y/N chided back.

He was probably right; Minju was feeling competitive one night when her brother told her he'd just hung up with his girlfriend and she wanted to know. She was now confident that her body, especially her chest was sufficiently more appealing to her brother (apparently, he was a "breasts man")

"FINE..." she replied, "I dunno, I guess I just... I haven't met anybody worthwhile yet. And they all want to get in my pants on like, the first date. It's exhausting."

"Aww shoot, Minju, I didn't know that. I mean, you gotta give the guys a little slack though you know?"

"Why would I do that??" Minju asked, frustrated

"Well, you're... I dunno... you're really..." he couldn't seem to get the words out.

"I'm what Oppa?" Minju asked, sort of expecting her brother to say something about her being too stuck-up or bitchy.

"How do I say this..." he continued, hoping she would give him an out.

Minju just waited in silence, wondering what he was trying to say.

"Ugh, fine." he started, "You're hot, Minju. Guys are going to want to hook up with you when they first see you. Frankly, I'm worried about it for when you start at school with me."

"Oh..." Minju said. Y/N wished he could be there with his little sis so they didn't have an unknown, uncomfortable silence on the phone. He was glad when she continued:

"That doesn't mean they can just be dogs all the time though. One guy actually pulled the car over and asked if I would blow him on the way home from our second date!"

"Whoa..." Y/N let out, sounding upset, "That's not okay... Who is he? What's his name?"

Minju smiled when she heard her brother getting mad. As much as she would like to see her brother pummel that douchebag Hyunmin, Y/N wanting to defend her was reward enough.

"Oh, relax Oppa, you'll never need to see him, nor will I."

"Hmmph..." He sighed, sounding unsatisfied, "So...did you?"

"Did I what?... OH GOD NO!" Minju gasped, "Did you need to ask?!"

She could hear her brother laughing on the other end. "No, I figured. I just wanted to rile you up."

Minju giggled, too. He did always knew how to push her buttons.

"Can I tell you something Oppa?"

"Sure Minju', anything."

"I've never done... 'it'... before."

Y/N paused a few seconds, trying to process what he'd just heard. Though he hadn't thought his little sister would ever share something like that with him, a small part of Y/N was happy to hear that she was a virgin.

"Oh..." he responded, "You know that's totally okay right? A lot of girls get all worried about it but you shouldn't be."

"I know," Minju said, "but I just don't want to come off as really prude like I'm above it or something; I just haven't found the right guy."

"...and that's awesome." Y/N assured her, "I think it makes you even more attractive. Like you know what you want, and it means something to you."

Minju curled up tightly in her bed. She bit the tip of her thumb, thinking about what her brother was telling her. Not only was someone she loved and wholly respected telling her not to worry about something she'd spent all too much time agonizing about, but he was also telling her that it made her more attractive.

"What about you?" Minju asked, "I mean I guess I know you've done it before."

"Yeah, I guess you do..." he said, knowing that Minju had heard him with Eunju before and feeling somewhat bad about it now that she'd told him she was a virgin. "But I wish I thought about it the way you did or that I could."

"What do you mean?" asked his little sister.

"Well when you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend and you have sex, things can just kind of change. Sometimes I wish I could really take time to care about someone before jumping into it. You can do that, at least."

He paused, seeming to be hung up on his feelings.

"Eunju and I...well... I don't want to talk about her.

Minju could hear some hurt in her brother's voice. She felt terrible for razzing him all the time about his girlfriend.

"It's okay Oppa, I know things can be complicated sometimes."

He was quiet.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Minju asked.

"No, how much is that?" Y/N said, smiling again.

Minju put on the most innocent, girly voice she could, "LIKE...sooooo much," she said. He could almost hear her smiling through the phone.

"I love you too Minju." Y/N told her.

For the moment of silence that followed, both Minju and her brother truly wished they weren't talking over the phone but instead being there with each other. It wasn't just that he knew his little sister would be wearing very little and stretched out alone in her bed. It was also that he wanted to hold her so she could understand how much he meant that he loved her. Minju, too wondered how he might touch her if they embraced right then. Her skin tingled, wondering what her brother might look like after the months of workouts he'd been telling her about. Something told her she'd be intimidated by how big and muscular he'd gotten.

She wanted to say something more. The tingling sensation working its way from her core out to her fingers and toes made Minju speak without thinking,

"I wish you were here with me," she said. Her fingers traced a path from her neck down to the curve of her breast.

Y/N could hear something more in his sister's voice, and though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted her to feel the same thing her words doing to him.

"I wish I were there with you too Minju."

Minju's whole body was feeling warmer. She didn't know what to think about how he was making her feel.

"Goodnight little sis," Y/N said after waiting long enough.

"Goodnight big bro," she said, not meaning to sound quite as sexy as she did.

"Two weeks," Y/N said right before he hung up, hearing his little sister say sleepily, "I can't wait." as he hit a button to end the call.

Was he going crazy? Was he supposed to feel like if his little sister was in the room right then he would have been unable to help himself touching her all over, running his hands over her body: those wonderful breasts he longed to see, kissing her beautiful neck and shoulders, caressing her legs. Did she know that he'd hung up the phone and found himself fully hard, thinking of her in a way he knew he should not?

She was just so gorgeous. Even over the phone he was conjuring up all the times he'd looked at her and marveled at her beauty. What was he going to do when they were finally going to school together? What if he had to watch guys talk to her, flirt with her, even make a move. Y/N knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he took care of his erection. Strong as his feelings were, he couldn't force the images of his barely clothed little sister out of his mind. When he finally released the pent up excitement he'd discovered in talking to Minju, it was to the image of her lying in bed.

He couldn't possibly know, but his little sister had done the very same thing, imagining that Y/N came home and finally helped her understand what it might feel like to be with a boy.

-

Two weeks flew by. Both Y/N and Minju had fully packed schedules before he was to return home. When their heads hit the pillow at night, they were lucky to even exchange a few texts before falling asleep.

Then, Minju came home from the gym one day during the week before school started and almost fainted at the sight of her brother. Not only was she so unbelievably glad to see him, but he looked incredible. He was tan from all the time out in the sun. His hair had grown longer and unruly. He even had a dark scruff on his face, so he looked considerably older. And he was huge! He filled out an old t-shirt so it looked stretched across his muscles. His chest, his arms, his abs! Minju felt so guilty when she sensed herself getting wet as she approached him.

And Y/N was in for even more of a treat than his sister, or at least he thought so. She had obviously spent some time in the sun, but her body... God was she even more beautiful than he remembered. It had been less than three months and he wondered if it was the same girl. Or perhaps he was seeing her differently, still unbelieving that such a beautiful girl could also be his little sister.

Her stomach was flat as ever, with a hint of her abs showing when she ran over to jump into his arms. She wrapped her toned little legs around him and squeezed him tight. Y/N remembered talking with Minju about the size of her boobs compared to his girlfriend's and he knew as she pressed them against him, even in a sports bra, that Minju's were bigger.

"Are you ready for school next week?" He said excitedly, setting her cute bottom on the counter top. Y/N was glad their parents weren't around because he was definitely taking some liberties with his hands, leaving them on her hips as he set her down.

Minju shook her head, 'Yes,' looking anxious and adorable at the same time. She had imagined her brother coming home so many times, and this was even better. She couldn't help herself from leaning in and planting a quick peck on his lips.

They were quiet, contented, for a while. Neither of them really cared to speak. Y/N was standing between his little sister's legs and holding her close enough that he was glad he hadn't gotten hard...yet. Even thinking about it worried him that Minju might soon be feeling something she shouldn't pressing against the tight fabric of her workout shorts.

"I know you're going to hate me for this, but I have to be at school 24/7 before our first game in a week and a half.

Minju's mouth dropped open. She was half-pretending, she'd expected it based on everything he'd been telling her over the phone. When he saw his little sister crack a grin instead of the big grimace he expected, Y/N narrowed his eyes at her.

"I know, I won't give you too much shit about it. I'm just really happy you're home!" She said, hugging him again. Y/N was truly worried she might feel something in his shorts.

"...And so BIG!" she fawned, seeing his worry disappear as she put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. He could tell she was giving him a hard time, acting like one of the many girls he expected to encounter on his first week back.

"Will you come back on Friday before the game?"

"Well the coach made a big deal about it, but after telling him it was my ritual every time last year... and then you know... we won every game... he gave in."

Minju showed her beautiful white smile, and it was all Y/N really needed to see that day. He was so glad to be holding his little sister and to know that nothing had changed about how they interacted, even though he knew the way he felt about her had.

-

The week before school started, tryouts for the cheerleading team were held. Minju had been working all summer for her big moment, and she knew she was ready. Y/N had even walked with her from her dorm to the facility and given her a big hug before sending her in. She felt all the more confident that he believed in her.

"Can I watch?" Y/N had asked.

"NO!" Minju fired back. She did not want him to see just in case she didn't make it.

"Aww, Minju, you know you're going to kill it, right?" he said, hugging her and pushing her through the door. His touch on her lower back was comforting; it lingered even as she walked out into the gym when her name was called.

She needn't have been nervous. The panel of four girls, a coach and an assistant coach were all that was there to watch her do her routines. There were a few routines they published online weeks before, and one that Minju was supposed to compose on her own. Everybody had seemed pleased after she completed the pre-selected routines, but everybody had cheered and clapped when she finished her own. Everybody but one... Eunju.

Even though she felt like she'd nailed every part, the fact that someone on the panel had held their applause made her nervous. She hated to admit it, but Minju really was getting her hopes up for being on the cheerleading team. If she was really good, they might even let her cheer for the football team in her first year, but she had to be truly impressive.

She was ecstatic to get a callback that day, and to be told that practice started that weekend. Y/N told her he knew she'd make it, and that he'd be shocked if they didn't put her on the field with him.

When the Friday before his first game finally came around, Minju rushed home—the first week of school had been crazy. She'd started all of her classes, been really successful at cheer practice and she was really hopeful that she'd make the first team and maybe cheer during one of the earlier football games. She didn't look forward to hearing or seeing Eunju, Minju thought as she pulled in the driveway, but she was out of control excited to spend her first Friday catching up with her brother.

When he entered, there was no noise, no sign of her brother's girlfriend, and the house sounded pretty quiet. She heard a bowl clinking in the kitchen, so she followed the sound inward.

"Hey you, where's your girl?" Minju asked

"She's not coming today," Y/N said, sounding strange.

"Oh...um... is everything okay?" Minju continued, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, sounding exhausted, "I don't think either of us will be seeing her much anymore."

"Oh no, I'm sorry Oppa, did something happen?"

"Don't worry about it, Minju. I'm not. It was a long time coming, " he said, but she could tell it was wearing on him. Minju draped herself over her brother's muscular shoulders, and she could feel him start to relax. She knew he was upset but was desperate to do anything that would make him feel better.

"How about you can pick the movie tonight? And if you're really lucky I'll even throw in a back-rub."

He knew she would do that anyway, but it made him smile to hear her offer. Y/N always liked that Minju didn't only talk about football with him, especially right before the game. She might ask a few questions about who they were playing, but she didn't get him all anxious the way others might if he didn't hole up at his house. It was just one more reason why he liked being around her so much.

They both had work to do before they could hang out, but around the time it was getting dark and their parents would be meeting after work for their weekly dinner date, Y/N waited for his little sister in the TV room. It had been a long time since they last did this, and he was a little nervous about what might happen since their relationship had progressed.

He had to keep his jaw from dropping when she came bouncing down the stairs, or rather her breasts did. Just as she promised, she was wearing the outfit that she'd tried on right before he went off to training camp months ago. Was it possible that she filled out her bra even better than before, because she certainly looked it? And the pants, hanging like they might fall at any second but for the drawstring around her waist.

This wasn't going to be easy. Now that he didn't have the typical release of spending an hour or so with his girlfriend, spending time with his far hotter little sister seemed like it might not be as easy. It worried him even more as he watched her perfect, round breasts shudder and threaten to escape her struggling bra with each step she took down the stairs.

It was nice to have his eyes on her like that again. Minju hadn't felt so desirable since they'd last had real alone time, and her brother's gaze was more than welcome. Just being in his company and him in hers made the two of them buzz with love for each other and excitement about being together.

"Lie down over here will ya?" Minju asked after they'd been watching the movie and chatting for a while. She could tell he was tense, far more than expected and she just wanted to help.

Y/N obliged, sucking in a breath when he felt his hot little sister straddle him. He was truly glad to be lying face down, because the thought of her perched on top of him in that outfit was driving him nuts. She was actually quite good at massaging him, seeming to know all of the tight spots after doing it many times. Y/N was finally starting to feel a lot better when she'd been doing it no more than a few minutes.

At some point, when Minju was trying hard to get him in the right spots on his back, she shifted over and the back of his leg as pressing against her mound. She hadn't meant to, it had just kind-of...happened. She couldn't help that it felt really good. But as she moved around, pressing her hands into different spots on her brother's muscular back, it just kept arousing her more and more.

Y/N had no idea it was going on either, he was in a sleepy state after how good his sister's hands were making him feel. He heard her breathing heavier, thinking she was just exerting herself as she pressed harder on him.

It never took her very long, especially not when she was really turned on; Minju should have known better. She was just sitting down harder on her brother, leaning into him to 'get more leverage on his back,' or so he might think. Minju didn't know what had gotten into her, but within only a minute or two of feeling her brother's leg pushing against her pussy and her little clit being trapped and stimulated just the way she liked it, she was lost. She had to try hard beyond measure not to make a sound, yet she couldn't stop herself squirming.

It only took a moment, and Minju managed to stay quiet. Her arousal that had built up in the time she spent apart from her brother did the brunt of the work. All it took was a little push, back and forth, of her hips and then suddenly she was clenching her legs. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate not to reveal what she'd just done and feeling embarrassed as a short but powerful orgasm took her.

Y/N came to when he heard his sister take a few sharp breaths atop him. He couldn't see her face, but he would have seen her coming down from her orgasm and trying to catch her breath. Her hands weren't doing much anymore.

"Tired little sis?" He asked.

From the tone of his voice, Y/N didn't know anything. She felt guilty, but Minju thought maybe she could get off without him knowing and without experiencing any of the embarrassment.

"Uh huh," Minju lied. She lifted her hips off of him so he wouldn't feel it if she'd gotten too wet.

"What if I took a turn for a change?" Y/N asked.

It was the only thing Minju could think of to put her out of harm's way, or at least her brother's discovery.

She agreed and laid down on the floor where he'd just been. After cumming, her skin was sensitive and crawling for his touch. Even when his fingers grazed her, Minju could feel it through her whole body. He started slow, and then worked his fingers into the tight spots on her shoulders. His hands felt terrific - big and strong, and a little bit rough from all his hard work.

Maybe Minju didn't know she was doing it, but Y/N absolutely loved the way his little sister was letting out adorable sighs and moans when he touched her just right. Y/N was probably getting just as much enjoyment as his little sis from his touching her.

He wasn't sure why he thought it would be okay, but her bra was simply in the way. In one quick motion, Y/N unclasped his little sister's lacy top. It sprung open and revealed her back to him, and Minju quickly opened an eye to look backward at him. When he didn't offer an explanation, she stayed quiet.

The tension seemed more incredible then, but his hands felt even better. Y/N could see his little sister's tits spreading out from her thin frame as she lay against the floor. He wanted to touch them; he even got close a few times with his fingers. Minju was fully aware of every square inch of her body that he felt: the way his fingers daringly slipped just beneath the waistband of her sweats, or how he grasped the tops of her hips a few times like he wanted to pull her towards him. After only a few moments, both of them were totally turned on, though neither was about to admit it to each other.

If Y/N hadn't seen it, they would have been totally screwed. The flash of headlights shown in the room for only a second.

Their parents had walked in on them watching a movie before, even when Minju was wearing relatively inappropriate clothing. But in the position they were and with Minju's suggestive bra unclasped, it would have looked a bit more...naughty. Minju didn't even know what hit her before she was being scooped up and flipped around into her brother's arms as he took two stairs at a time up to her bedroom.

"Oppa what th...!" Minju gasped as he manhandled her. Her hands darted to the dangling bra that she'd only just managed to hold on to. Then she was twisted around and had her legs wrapped around her brother's wide frame before she could speak another word. As they hit the top of the stairs, she heard her parents at the door.

Y/N dashed into his sister's room and then stood quietly, both of them being very still in their utterly suggestive position. Even in their haste, both siblings could intimately sense Minju's loosely covered breasts against Y/N's chest, and she couldn't be sure, but was something extra trapped between their hips?

"Kids, we're home!" Their mother called out as she came in.

"Up here, be down in a minute!" Y/N called back.

When he was sure they were in the clear, he flopped back onto the bed and took his first deep breath. Minju laughed first; of course, she would find that funny.

"Oh my god that was close!" She said, giggling.

"Well we wouldn't have to be worried if you were still wearing your bra!" Y/N said righteously.

"Um excuse me, I wasn't the one who took it off," Minju said.

By the time they'd reached the bedroom her bra no longer covered either of her breasts. It was still trapped between them, but looking down Y/N could see the full weight of his little sister's chest held between his and hers. They were big and hanging down slightly as she propped herself up to look at her brother. With an adorable and mischievous look on her face, she looked irresistible, perched on top of her brother with both her knees on the bed.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just..." he started, obviously not knowing where he was going with it.

Minju smiled at him, "I know you didn't," she said, letting him off the hook. She wiggled her hips playfully as she said it, and Minju was almost positive she could feel her brother's cock tucked up between their two connected hips and at least partially hard. The way it was pressing against Minju right where Y/N definitely shouldn't have been made Minju desperate to know if she was the cause or not. Whatever it was, her brother felt big.

Knowing that their parents would be waiting for them downstairs, Y/N spoke first, breaking the silence caused by the way the two of them lay on Minju's bed.

"You should probably cover those up," he said, half-heartedly looking away.

Minju reached for her bra and finally sat up on top of her brother. For a split second, her breasts were neither covered by her hands or her bra, and Y/N must have seen, because Minju felt her brother throb against her where he was touching below. Not wanting to be captive and helpless to his beautiful sister, or so obviously showing her his affection with his growing stiffness, Y/N reached up to his sister's enticing sides. She was about to inhale profoundly and let him touch her, but instead, he only savored her soft skin for a second before he forcibly tossed her off of him onto the other half of the bed.

"HEY!" she shrieked

"Time to put some clothes on, little sis," Y/N said callously. See you downstairs."

And then he left. She watched him walk out, still holding her arms up to cover her breasts so he didn't see, but a part of Minju wasn't entirely sure she didn't want him to.

This was uncharted territory for Minju and her brother both. As they spent the rest of the night around their parents, both tried hard to wrap their heads around what was going on between them. On one hand, they were still spending time together on Fridays like they always did, laughing and conversing with the same fantastic level of comfort that seemed to make Minju's weekend. And when Y/N woke up in the morning he was smiling and simply glad to have had the time with his baby sis despite the anxiety of a big game ahead.

On the other hand, both siblings had gone to bed thinking of each other in ways that they weren't supposed to. But imagining Minju wearing even less on top of Y/N than just the pair of sweatpants she had been was a dream they both shared that night, 'supposed to' or not.

Just before the game the next day, Minju got an email that she was to attend a different cheerleading practice on Monday. She was going to be cheering on the football field at their home game in two weeks! Minju was ecstatic and wanted badly to tell her brother, but decided to let him focus and wait until after the game.

There was a lot of talk about how the football team would play in their first home game. There was equal coverage of Y/N and how he would perform starting his first full season. Minju was perfectly confident that he would blow the competition away.

And he did... for a time. He started strong, very practiced in every play. They went into the half leading, but Minju's dad wasn't impressed.

"He looks a little off today, don't you think?" said her father.

"You know honey, I noticed that too. What do you think is up?" Minju's mom asked.

She wracked her brain. Suddenly, Minju hoped that the way she'd teased her brother wasn't the cause. She felt guilty all of the sudden. Perhaps it hadn't been fair to him for her to flaunt herself like that. It was selfish. His attention made Minju feel good and she hadn't taken him into account. It was especially bad considering Y/N wasn't with his girlfriend anymore.

"Did you notice anything last night Minju?" Her mother asked.

"No, not really mom. He was just as happy to be home like he usually is." Minju assured them.

And she wasn't lying. Aside from being a bit downtrodden about breaking up with Eunju, he'd been very playful and content with her the night before.

Yet, when he came out for the second half, the same rustiness seemed to be staying with him. Perhaps it was the team. Nobody seemed to be blaming Y/N for the way their offense was playing, but before long they were losing. And then the fourth quarter was nearly over. And then... the whistle blew for the end of game and Y/N's team had not done enough.

He was understandably bummed when they met him on the field after the game.

"Sorry bro," Minju said compassionately, feeling him wrap his arm around her side and walk toward the locker rooms with their parents. She looked cute in her little, team t-shirt, but Y/N wasn't really in the mood to check her out just then.

"Yeah... " he said dejectedly, "I don't know why we couldn't pull that one out... damn."

"Don't beat yourself up too much about it, you promise?" Minju asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"I won't." He said. "Maybe I'll just beat you up."

That elicited a smile from his sister, but Minju could tell his heart wasn't in it. She felt bad for him; he was probably internalizing what was just the whole team's off performance.

"See you soon?" Minju asked, "Next Friday at the latest?"

"...away game," Y/N sighed. "But the week after for sure."

He squeezed Minju's side before breaking contact and saying goodbye to their parents. Minju watched him jog back to the lockers and hoped he wouldn't be depressed about the loss for too long. She hadn't even told him about her cheerleading spot, but that could wait until later when he might be more willing to share in her excitement.

-

That week went by even faster than the last. It was Minju's second week of school and she was loving every minute of it. She only got to sit down to lunch with Y/N once before he was off to the away game, and when she'd told him her news he had been so happy for her. She wished furiously, as he hugged her, that she might someday find somebody who cared about her the way Y/N did.

It turned out that Minju hadn't just been brought onto the football cheerleading team, but she'd replaced someone. Of course, it had to be Eunju. And making the team wasn't the end of it.

"You know you're going to fuck this up right?" Eunju had asked, confronting Minju on the way to class one day that week. Minju wanted nothing more than to get away from her so she just kept walking.

"You don't belong in my spot, you little bitch." Eunju spat, obviously annoyed that Minju didn't intend to engage.

"Oh and tell that second string quarterback you call your brother to enjoy being tended to by his sister instead of his girlfriend... a lotta good that'll do him."

Minju didn't quite understand, but she wouldn't let Eunju talk bad about her brother.

"The only one who's second string here is you... bitch," Minju flung the blonde's words back in her face, "you were NEVER good enough for him. You were just EASY."

With that Minju turned on the path and headed into the Math & Science building. It took her a few minutes to calm down, and almost half the period to stop thinking about what Eunju had said...'tending to her brother.'

-

The away game did not go well. This time, Y/N did look bad. It was like he just couldn't find his stride. He gave up one interception in the first half and one in the second. The rest of the team could have played much better, but they simply didn't have that momentum that everyone had seen driven by the star quarterback. There were whispers that Y/N would be replaced if he kept playing like that, but that's all they were.

There was something that Minju heard in the locker room after cheer practice one day that week that put pieces together for her. It was hard for her to believe, but Eunju, whom she'd overheard, had made some sense.

"You know why he's playing like that?" She'd been gossiping out of sight in another part of the locker room near the showers, "because he doesn't have me."

"Oh come on," another girl on the team, who sounded like Tamara, laughed, "I know you two had your thing, but you weren't exactly throwing the ball for him!"

"Think what you want, but he's the one who insisted that I come over on the day before the game... he said having sex helped him play better."

"Yeah, right," Tamara said, "that's a myth."

"You say that, but we did it before every game last year..." she'd continued, but Minju didn't want to hear it.

No way. No way hooking up with that blonde bimbo before their Friday nights together was helping her brother win.

Minju kept repeating that to herself all week until Friday arrived. But at some point, she didn't believe it anymore. He'd always been so quick to shoo Eunju out the door on Fridays, but he HAD invited her there week after week anyway. And she was right; as far as Minju knew, her brother hadn't been hooking up with anyone else. Minju had only succeeded in teasing her brother with her skimpy clothing, certainly not helping him get any relief. Could it be her fault? It seemed ridiculous.

And then came the next thought - far more questionable than the last. Who was going to 'tend to her brother' now that she couldn't expect Eunju to do it before she came home that Friday? As far as she knew, Minju would be the only girl around, the only one Y/N was technically allowed to see. He could start seeing another girl, but she knew her brother, and he didn't just start sleeping with somebody because he needed to get some ass.

The thought that it might be up to Minju to... relieve him... and more so than just giving a back massage seemed crazy to her. Y/N would never go for it. They were brother and sister; no way! Minju thought.

But by the time she arrived home on Friday, Minju had debated with herself a thousand times about it. She'd been hinting at her brother toward something for a long time, always knowing that he'd never cross the line with her. But what if she told him it was okay to? She'd sensed that he was hard that one day on her bed. She'd seen him looking. She'd felt his hands touching her back in ways a brother wasn't supposed to after he'd unhooked her bra. What if he wanted something, and she was just naive or self-centered? What if it was way easier than she was making it out to be.

Y/N could tell something was up with his sister when he got home, despite her pretending.

"Do you know how excited I am to see you on the sideline tomorrow Minju'?" he asked, eliciting a massive smile from his sister.

The way she looked right then was how he wanted to picture her always. A big smile, flashing her teeth because she couldn't help herself. A cute, white tank-top, comfortable little shorts and her body language telling him that she'd been waiting to see him all week. It was crazy that they didn't see each other more often, going to the same school and all, but they were just so busy with the beginning of the school year and their respective activities. Seeing her now, with that radiating energy she carried with her everywhere she went, her perfect breasts stretching the neckline of her top, and legs that went on forever... he wondered why he didn't find the time.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Are you kidding," she said confidently, "I was ready for this since your first game."

"I knew it," Y/N said, "good because I don't need anyone else messing up out there on the field." He sounded somewhat anxious.

How on earth was Minju going to bring this up? By that point, she'd imagined and even gotten excited about the possibility of doing something for her older brother that his girlfriend might have done behind his bedroom door upstairs. She'd wondered what his cock might look like in her hand, what she would do with it if she got it there. Would he find her attractive enough to get hard. Minju had felt a boy before, even had one in her mouth once when she got a little too drunk, but the thought of doing that with her brother made her heart flutter. It made her shift in her seat and feel an unexpected tingling between her thighs.

Yet, she was hopelessly lost on how to propose it. It would be just for his benefit so he could play better the next day... She only wanted to help him win...

"I feel really bad," Minju started. I was always so mean to Eunju, and now I've taken her spot on the team."

Minju told her brother about the day Eunju had confronted her on the quad. She conveniently omitted the part about 'tending to him,' but he seemed impressed with his little sister's defense.

"Yeah, don't worry about her, Minju'. She's probably just mad at me and taking it out on you,"

"For breaking up with her?" Minju asked.

"Well, that... and I might have had something to do with you taking her spot."

"YOU DIDN'T?" Minju cried, fearful that she hadn't deserved the advance.

"No, no, no!" he stopped her, "it's nothing like that. I discovered she was intentionally sabotaging your chance of making the field team. A couple of your teammates told me she was talking shit to the coaches and voting against you for no reason."

"So what did you do?" Minju asked, hanging on his words.

"Well...I might have told the coaches that Eunju was making it personal." Minju was squeezing her brother's arm tightly as he leaned over the table. "I guess they agreed because pretty much the next day, I found out they had replaced her with you!"

Minju's mouth was agape. She had no idea.

"Don't worry about it, Minju. My spies told me that everybody wanted you on the field team, and this wasn't the first time that Eunju had created drama. Apparently, it was time for her to go, and they were waiting for someone talented enough to help them go through with it."

"I don't know what to say... Oppa..." Minju hesitated before throwing her arms around her brother and kissing him a few times on the neck.

"Thank you," she kissed him, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

Minju giggled as her brother tried to shrug her off.

"Alright, already," he said, feeling that he liked his little sister's kisses more than he should have.

If Minju thought she owed her brother something before, now she was overcome with the desire to repay him. Not only had he been spending time with her on Friday nights and being the perfect brother, but there was more. He'd gone to bat for her with the cheerleading team, risked losing his girlfriend, and then eventually lost her and any of the physical aspects that came with... all for his little sister. Her handsome, strong, and unflinchingly loving brother, Minju, was enamored as she looked at him.

Yet, it took her until hours later, when he was lying face-down in his usual spot on the carpet in the living room before she could build up the confidence to say anything. Feeling guilty, Minju hadn't changed into anything more revealing. Unbeknown to her, Y/N had been drooling over her since the minute he'd walked in the door. But now, she wondered if she should have put something on to make him more agreeable.

"Oppa," she said timidly, straddling his back. "can I ask you something?"

"Duh," he joked, his face pressed halfway into the carpet.

Minju paused. Her heart had been beating faster in anticipation of this moment, but now it felt like it might explode.

"I heard something... the other day..." she started.

"... yes?" Y/N prodded

"I heard some girls talking about you..." she continued. Y/N could hear the concern in her voice, so he maneuvered quite impressively under his sister's straddled position and faced her. She looked enticing with her legs spread right over his lap and her shorts bunched up even higher on her tanned legs. Y/N thought immediately that he might have made a mistake now that his manhood was getting the full brunt of the eighteen-year-old's sexiness.

"...and...what did they say?" Y/N felt like he was dragging it out of her.

"They seemed to think you weren't playing well because... you weren't..." Minju hesitated again, seeing her brother look up at her impatiently.

"...getting any."

Y/N laughed. It was a standard theory. Y/N somewhat believed the sentiment himself; that's why he'd always asked Eunju over to the house before he expected to hang out with his little sister, who would inevitably be tempting him throughout the night. Of course, people at school would speculate that his breakup with Eunju was causing him some issues.

"So what, you're wondering if it's true? If Eunju is the reason I'm not playing well? I bet she's the one you heard saying that in the first place, right?"

Minju paused for so long that he had to shake her hips with his hands to get her to speak.

"Well, yes, but that's not it. " Now for the hardest part. Again, she paused.

"Come on, Minju', spit it out!"

"I thought that, maybe... you know... I could help you if you needed."

At first, Y/N didn't say a word. His brain seemed to go numb with disbelief. His first reaction was to look at her, his gorgeous little sister, perched right on his lap. He couldn't believe she was suggesting it, even if he'd been secretly lusting for her. What was she telling, that he just do what he wanted with her... take off that tiny tank top of hers and reveal her small, naked body to him like he'd imagined. Both of them felt his cock throb beneath Minju's seated butt.

"Minju... I... we..." he stuttered, "No way, we shouldn't... I mean, we can't."

Minju had no idea what to expect. Her daydreams had all gone so much differently. One way, she'd imagined him simply flipping her over and tugging off her bottoms. She'd never had sex before, but he could fix that in one steady stroke, and she'd wanted it so bad. In another, she'd sucked on him in the kitchen right when he came in, convincing him that she needed to do it so he could win. In all of her scenarios, even now, Minju had trouble admitting that she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her, too. And now it seemed that he didn't.

"I didn't mean...I just thought that you might need it," she said, trailing off, disheartened, into a whisper.

Y/N didn't know what to say to her. He struggled not to let the image of his little sister being on top of him in a much different way enter his mind. He worried that she could feel him stiffening through his shorts that he would send her a different message when he needed to be simply saying no.

"I'm sorry," Minju said quietly, "I wasn't thinking, it was stupid."

There was this long exchange where the two looked into each other's eyes. In a moment that should have been uncomfortable or strange, they made a connection that shouldn't have been there after Y/N's reaction. Minju could feel that Y/N was trying to do the right thing. She hadn't thoroughly thought through what she was asking of him. Once again, she was being unfair.

"I'm gonna shower before Mom and Dad get home," she said after not too long. Do you want to eat all of that pie Mom left in the fridge before they do?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N smiled sideways, "I'll have it ready when you get back,"

With that, Minju lifted herself off her brother, unsure whether to be disappointed or glad they hadn't crossed a very unsteady line. She scampered up the stairs, not wanting to look back at her brother and give away that she wished he'd chosen differently and didn't just want to help. She wanted him.

Y/N lay his head back in the same spot on the carpet. What was he thinking? He wanted her... he wanted Minju so badly. He'd spent countless nights leading up to that, either falling asleep thinking about her or dreaming of her in ways he'd feel guilty for in the morning. He'd wanted to see her naked little body, put his hands on the breasts that were incredibly generous for her frame, hold her hips as he discovered how tight she was... Now she was offering him a free pass, and he was just going to turn it down?

He knew that she had been so disappointed; that was the worst part. He kept seeing her face when he'd first said no: it had changed immediately from one of apprehension and hopefulness to complete embarrassment. How could he do that to her? She just wanted to help! He had to smooth things over, at the very least.

Y/N didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually, he built up the courage to talk to her and practically ran up the stairs. He wasn't thinking, opening the door behind which he'd heard the shower running in one swift motion,

"Minju, I didn't mean I didn't want you to; I just..." but then he stopped.

Minju was just bending over to take off her shorts. She was wearing an incredible pair of panties, cute, purple, and lacy, but only that. She was topless, and now that her shorts were off, nearly bottomless as well. Minju quickly covered her breasts with her arm, but her brother had seen them unclothed.

It took him too long to realize that he was staring or had stopped in the middle of a sentence. He'd never seen Minju entirely so revealed to him; he hadn't been prepared. Y/N's brain searched for words, but it seemed entirely too focused on what his little sister looked like in front of him and what it made him want of her.

Minju had not expected him either. She had wanted to take a shower because she simply felt... dirty after asking if her brother wanted 'help' and then being denied. But now he was there. He was staring at her shamelessly, and whether he knew it or not, he fully hardened in the time it took him to gather his wits.

"Minju I came to tell you..." he started, watching his little sister walk towards him and stop but a foot away.

"Shhhh," she said. "you don't have to say anything."

Minju removed her hand from her chest and watched her big brother's eyes widen. She was giving him an uninhibited view of her breasts; she knew that he'd wanted it badly.

"It's okay Oppa," she said. He took it as permission to look at her, up and down. He took in every inch that he could see, from the beautiful tits she was baring for him, to the perfect, little pink nipples that graced them. He saw her abs, strong and smooth, the way her sides curved to her soft-yet-thin hips. He longed to know what she looked like without those adorable bottoms on, but hadn't he come in to say something to her? At the moment it felt like he was just there to look.

"It's okay Oppa," Minju repeated, "you can touch me." She took his hands and brought them just below her chest. He grasped her, making it clear that he didn't expect to let go. Minju guided his hands upward over each tit before letting him do it on his own. His eyes rolled when he finally got his hands on them.

Minju surprised him with a kiss. She'd leaned in while he was distracted and planted it on his lips. Firm and knowing, it lingered for a few, meaningful seconds. Upon breaking, Minju slowly bent at the knees.

She held on to her brother as her knees made contact with the thick bathmat in front of the sink. Carefully, watching him, she pulled the waistband of his sweats over his cock. He did not protest.

She knew he didn't wear underwear beneath them! Minju thought victoriously. 'But ohmygod was he more than I was prepared for,' Minju thought. Perhaps she'd had some idea that he was big, but her brother's cock was much more than she'd seen before. It looked like she could hold it with two hands.

So she did, watching her brother intently the whole time, Minju gently moved her hands toward him. As they slid up his thick quads and lingered an inch or two away, Y/N's cock throbbed in anticipation; he needed her to touch him.

That made Minju smile wide. It was comforting; he wanted her. Seeing his little sister happy to finally take hold of him, Y/N felt like this was what he had truly come upstairs for.

"Minju'" he breathed, unbelieving that her hands were now wrapped around him.

Again she smiled and held him firmly. The contented little teen slid her hands up and then down, watching how the surface of his shaft followed the path of her grip. Y/N thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen with the look of pure wonder and excitement on her face.

A couple times she slid her hands intently back and forth. He was so warm; Minju could feel the flowing heat in his penis. Every stroke or so she could feel a throb in his cock, and by look on his face it must have felt good. The fluttering feeling in Minju's tummy returned with intensity each second that their eyes held. Her hopes had been only temporarily dashed. It was hard to believe that she'd come this far, but clear to Minju that she was glad her brother was finally in her hands.

"Am I doing okay," Minju asked him sweetly, lovingly and wide-eyed.

"God Minju', yeah... is this... are you sure..." He was never lost for words, Minju thought.

"It's okay Oppa," she assured him, "I'm just helping you for the game tomorrow. You can relax."

It was a lie, but somehow pretending it was just this once aroused both Minju and her brother. As if they could just pretend tomorrow on the field that Minju, the cheerleader, had not taken new duties to relieve the quarterback the night before.

Minju had begun moving her hands around differently, she was gracing the skin around him with light touches and then testing his tip with firmer ones. Her brother flinched when she ran her palm carefully over his head and closed her fingers over it. It didn't seem enough to her, yet it was Y/N who spoke first.

"Minju, ohgodMinju...will you put it in your mouth?" he asked.

Minju was stunned. And yet, he was used to calling the shots; it was good to know he was playing along. It made her feel sexy to hear her brother finally asking for more.

Minju shook her head 'yes.'

It seemed like the right move. Perhaps he would do better, play better, tomorrow if Minju were to take his cock into her mouth. Perhaps that, or maybe he simply wanted his beautiful little sister to go a bit further. In truth, he wanted to take her up to her feet, set her on the vanity and remove her cute panties to see what she hid underneath. He could line up and ask her if she wanted to...

"Oh fuck Minju," Y/N let out involuntarily. She'd pushed him inward past her lips and was swirling her tongue around his tip amazingly. "your mouth feels so good sis."

Minju would have smiled if her brother wasn't a few inches in. She had to open her mouth wide to fit him, but the mischievous little brunette was determined to make her brother cum. She wanted to be better than his girlfriends, than anyone he'd been with before. She didn't know that she had already surpassed that with her alluring beauty, and that being his little sister was going to bring him to orgasm even faster.

Minju continued sucking on him. She couldn't fit the whole thing in her mouth, perhaps not even half. Yet her sincere attempt had Y/N wanting her more than ever. Hadn't he been so dedicated to holding them back only minutes ago? But here he was loving every second that his little sister was stroking her hands up and down while she bobbed her mouth upon his tip, about to release.

"If you keep doing that...mmmnnhh... I'm gonna cum Minju," he warned her.

"Oh yeah?" she asked innocently after popping her mouth of him with a slurp.

"Are you gonna cum for me Oppa? Is your little sister gonna make you cum?"

He could only groan. Minju leaned close and licked the head just under his tip once again, twice, sending hurtling to the edge.

"Cum on my tits Oppa, it's okay...please, I want you to." She said, pushing him over. He looked down at her in disbelief and deep affection and she held his gaze, not looking away for a second.

The 18-year-old jerked him intently as his breaths got very heavy and then he took a single, sharp inhale. His eyes closed, and his cock throbbed perceptively against her palms. She sat up to direct him right at her youthful breasts, but not before taking the tip of her brother's penis in her mouth right as she felt the first pump on the underside of his shaft.

Minju didn't stop moving her hands as the first shot splashed against her tongue. It was hot, plentiful and he was only just starting to release when she popped his tip out of her mouth and pointed him toward her proud teenage breasts. Each stroke elicited another pulse of his white sperm onto her chest. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt; Minju savored every stretch of her skin that he covered.

Y/N was treated with the view of his topless little sister grinning naughtily as he winced and let out the last of what she was squeezing from him. His brain, teetered on the verge of consciousness as he watched the young brunette swallow the first taste of sperm she'd daringly taken into her mouth. Minju felt as if she'd gotten everything she wanted, and the messy tops of her breasts and wet streaks of her brother's cum up to her neck were evidence of that.

God was she beautiful, and she'd been a perfect little sister, just helping out her big brother when she knew he needed it. For a moment, they simply stayed as they were, breathing heavily and taking in the forbidden sight of a little sister splashed with her brother's cum, almost to the point of disbelief. Y/N took one of Minju's hands from his shaft and pulled her up to her pretty feet. Her other hand slid gently off of him, stimulating him one last time before falling to her side.

He wanted to say how much he loved her... that he wanted her to know how good she'd done and that she could ask anything of him, even if it was to never do that again. But that wasn't what either of them wanted, and he couldn't say it all at once so he said it with a kiss. Pulling her face toward his, feeling her silky brown hair between his fingers, he kissed her.

Was this just once? Would they wake up tomorrow and decide that it had been simply a crazy, impulsive thing that had happened and didn't need to happen again? It didn't feel that way when her brother's tongue was asking permission at her lips. She gave it with the touch of her own, and for a moment they kissed like lovers... for a moment.

"I better take a shower," said Minju, pulling away from him and watching the look of surprise on her brother's face. "I've got to clean off all this sticky stuff before mom and dad get home. You sure cum a lot big brother." She finished, running a finger over one gleaming rope and the testing it against her tongue.

Minju's mother had taught her to always make a boy work for her affection. She doubted that her mom had intended her 18-year-old to use it so effectively on her brother whose spunk now covered her breasts, but nonetheless... Y/N was left wanting more.

"Do you think that will help Oppa?" She asked blamelessly with that nickname he'd hated until now. It sounded more like she had just finished a backrub and not sucking her brother's cock. She let him take a good look at her before turning towards the shower.

"Minju, you are unbelievable..." he said, still in shock and still incredibly hard.

She knew she'd done well. Everything he said, everything his eyes and body told her verified it. The proud brunette walked to the still-running water, leaving her brother there to gather his pants. As one last tease, she seductively slid her bottoms over her pushed-out butt as if she'd forgotten Y/N was still in the room.

"I can't get enough of you sis," he said as he realized she intended for him to let her shower alone.

She smiled one last time as she stood back up. Her little pink lips teased him through the darkened gap between her thighs. The room wasn't brightly lit enough and he cursed it, wishing to truly know what Minju's young opening looked like.

"And to think..." Minju led him, "there's so much more."

She bit the side of her pouty, bottom lip before stepping in the shower and pulling back the curtain. Y/N would dream that night of what he might have done if she had invited him in.

[bbluefllame]

hcs on how I think mha characters sleep

contains: pure silly stupidness

characters: tomura shigaraki, touya todoroki, keigo takami, izuku midoriya, toga himiko, plus one katsuki hc😭

note: LISTEN GANG I WAS SLEEPY BUT I COULDNT SKEEP SO I WAS LIKE OH EM GEE!!! keigo's went out of hand 😔😔😔

tomura shigaraki

- he usually sleeps in his normal attire, he has no energy to get up and change

- sleeps 4 hrs MAX

- his thumbs are always I mean always are covered by the rest of his fingers tightly, he probably decays mattresses every couple of months by accident

- either super light sleeper or super heavy no in-between, probably doesn't even sleep most of the time

- there's no pre-sleep routine. mf just plops down into the bed and blacks out OR he sleeps in his gaming chair😭

- if you're sleeping next to him, he would make sure he's facing the opposite side with his hands dangling at the edge of the bed just to make sure nothing happens to you.

- one thing that makes him black out is playing with his hair, like blackout like snore mimimimi type shit

- he's so still in his sleep, barely moves to the point you might think he's dead if he wasn't breathing‼️

- Overall he'd be a pretty good person to sleep next to (if he even sleeps) just make sure he doesn't have nightmares or everything is done and dusted (literally)

touya todoroki

- he either sleeps naked or something that can't snag on the staples/ irritate his scars (probably naked bcs have you seen his room?? ITS EMPTY EMPTY THERES NOTHING BESIDES HIS USUAL CLOTHES)

- I give him 5-6 hrs maybe then he wakes up but on nights where he's in too much pain, he takes a shit ton of painkillers and tries to sleep just to wake up 2 hrs later

-biggest snorer out there, complete opposite of tomura. esp w those lungs of his omg.

- you could be sleeping and BOOM 🚉 SNOREEEEEE HONKKKK you need earplugs with him, then he wakes up and goes "I don't snore, fuck you mean??"

- he tosses and turns 24/7 also he will 100% steal the blanket and kick you off, at this point it'd be more comfortable to sleep on the ground than to sleep next to him

- yk those videos where it's like someone tweaking while sleeping, like they roll around steal blankets and kick and stuff and do the craziest shit, yeah that's touya

- idk if he has a pre sleep routine I'm leaning towards it depends? he usually just makes sure his scars are clean so he doesn't get an infection and yk die!

- I conclude, a horrible person to sleep next to. Would much rather kms than tolerate a night of his torture!

keigo takami

- this bitch has 2 options, blackout the second he gets home in his hero attire, or if it's a day where he has to recover from an injury or something, these specific navy blue sweatpants and a black t-shirt

- depends on the day he's sleeping either 3 hrs or 9 hrs

- he doesn't snore but he talks in his sleep about the weirdest shit ever "noooo pls don't put me in the airfryer" he 100% has the weirdest fucking dreams to ever exist

- he never sleeps on his back, literally always on his stomach so his wings don't get in the way

- also on the topic of his wings, during said weird dreams if he's running away or something they start flapping and shit😭 it'd be so annoying to sleep next to him

- he sleepwalks 100% you look at that face and tell me he DOESNT?? he's a really light sleeper as well esp for nights where he might be called in

- definitely has a pre sleep routine (if he doesn't immediately blackout) ESP if you're living tg oh em gee, he'd have a longer skincare routine than you (tbf the skincare routine is kind of obligation from him to appeal to the civilians nd shit)

- he'd have a headband on his head pushing his hair back, washing his face, using a toner etcetera, and then going "baaaaaabeeee where'd you put my cosrx snail mucin, I know you used it" and he'd be all sassy and shit (twink cough cough sorry)

- if he's having a calm day, he's being the clingiest cutest little shit, you wanna go to eat? "nooo 5 minutes" . You wanna go to the bathroom? "Ugh be quick" while he's guarding the door waiting to tackle you and drag you back to bed. He's such a little (loving) shit

- he just lays there on top of you not willing to let go with a serene expression on his face, those days are rare though (fuck the commission 😠)

- random but he has some of the worst bed head you could ever see

- overall, kind of annoying to sleep next to (funny as well) but for him, who wouldn't tolerate it 🙏🏼

izuku midoriya

- before OFA bro used to get no sleep he'd have the most fucked up sleep schedule to ever exist ‼️‼️ like during weekends no sleep at all just staying up analyzing new heroes

- w OFA he's sleeping healthily or too much with the amount of energy he uses ESP in the first seasons when he breaks his bones a shit ton

- HIS SLEEP WEAR LMAOAOA funniest thing I've seen i don't have to say anything abt it 😭 a fucking shirt w " t-shirt" on it or sumn

- doesn't snore but moves a lot, and not even kicking?? just flipping side to side or clutching the blanket like he's a woman clutching her purse in the 1800s (no one's taking it from you calm down lil bro)

- occasionally he might talk but it's like 2 words then he flips to the other side

- no pre-sleep routine but that's bc he doesn't need one, his pre-sleep routine is studying or training, BUT bro has to be like wrapping his arms and hands at night or something bcs he's in pain (his arms are fucked up there's no way he doesn't have chronic pain)

- if you're forced to sleep next to each other (insert ur own fanfic idea of why) he would be so tense he'd have his hands by his side tryna not sleep so he doesn't annoy you, at this point, you'd be annoyed by how tense he is

- he's not a bad person to sleep next to tbf, just like he might be kinda annoying that's it

Toga Himiko

- she has pink pj's and everything she's such a cutie (some have blood on them but whoops accident!)

- she sleeps with plushies (her room is adorable. search it up pleek‼️), changes the plushie every night so "every single one of them feels loved"

- she sleeps pretty healthily although on the low side 6-7 hrs prolly, she's told by compress "You're a growing girl, you need your sleep" or something similar when she wakes up too early

- she's more giggles in her sleep rather than anything, maybe whispers a name then goes teehehehe, she's pretty calm in her sleep honestly

- she has a pre-sleep routine and it's adorable, if it's in the broke era she steals face masks (specifically hello kitty ones), moisturizers, toners, face washes and skips back to the base with a smile on her face

- has 100% forced a couple of the league members to use the face masks

- has music blasting (for some reason I see her playing like a g6 and bopping her head while putting stuff on) at 10 pm, she 100% has been forced to turn it off bcs it woke everyone up

- she's such a cuddly person as well but in the best way possible, before sleeping though 100% there's gonna be gossiping or just yapping tg

overall my favorite !! silliest girl to ever exist I luv her

bonus katsuki

- bro sleeps like a Victorian child dying from the plague, waiting for a true loves kiss type shit you'd see him and go "wtf okay disney princess😟"