Warnings: Age gap dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy themes, mild cursing, slow-burn tension, hints at Dom/brat dynamic forming.
synopsis~ When you’re down on your luck, you’re desperate to do anything to get back on your feet. Even if that means sneaking around with everyone’s favorite basketball player.
Word count: ~4,200+ words
“Ballin' ain't an issue for me, I'll make a hundred stacks right back next week”
You sat courtside slightly over stimulated but infatuated. You’d seen Kyrie in action on TV of course, but watching him rip around the court in real life— it was almost hypnotic. He’d asked you to come to a game and who were you to say no? Part of you did it for the aesthetic but something about kyries athleticism and physicality hooked you, maybe even turned you on.
Part of you felt guilty for it. Yes— in technical terms you all had a bdsm relationship but you felt your attraction somehow perverted things. The more you watched him on that court, the sweat dripping down his body, the small glances he’d shoot to you. The average woman would swoon— who wouldn’t when faced with the constant financial validation of a NBA player?
But still, that didn’t mean blur the lines.
You sipped on the drink you had, dabbing the light sweat that was budding from your forehead from the lights of the arena. It was overwhelmingly hot, between the intensity of the game, kyries glances at you, and the overbearing feeling of being watched—your body was on fire.
The buzzer sounded and the arena erupted. You were on your feet before you even realized it, clapping with the crowd, adrenaline rushing through you like you’d been the one sprinting up and down the court. Kyrie slowed only when it was over, hands on his hips, chest heaving as he laughed with his teammates. When he finally looked up and found you, the look he gave was warm almost comforting. You were proud, of course Dallas was your hometown so the pride came naturally but you were specifically proud of Kyrie. It warmed you to see him do well and be happy.
You sat back down, suddenly aware of how tight your dress felt against your skin, how your pulse was still racing. The drink in your hand had melted down to ice, the condensation slick against your fingers. Around you, people were already moving. A member of the team staff leaned in to say something you didn’t fully catch, but the message was clear enough: wait. Kyrie would come get you.
You waited.
You watched as eyes slowly turned to you with an obvious curiosity. Only people left were begging fans, celebrities, and the WAGS. People just couldn’t place where you fit in, and of course was dying to know. It made you beyond nervous, if people found out you alls arrangements sure he’d be fine but you’d be over with. And the thought of that made you very nervous.
The arena lights dimmed slightly as the post-game routine kicked in. You watched as he moved through interviews, quick hugs, and kids leaning over the tunnel railing hoping for attention. You watched Kyrie move through it all with ease. You wondered if he ever felt as anxious as you felt right now— or ever. Kyrie had a naturally flow to him, he was exactly who he thought he was if not 10 times more. That made you even more attracted to him but even more so— scared.
When he finally peeled away and came toward you, you stood instinctively, smoothing your dress like you hadn’t been sitting perfectly still for the last ten minutes.
“Hey,” he said quietly, like the world wasn’t screaming around you.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
He looked you over—analyzing how the tiny strapless bodycon dress hugged your curves. Taking a mental note of the cleavage bursting from the front. You looked damn good, and from the way he was looking at you…you knew it. “You good ma?”
You nodded. “Yeah. You did really well.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s just my job Y/N, I coulda did better.”
“You did better than I could and that’s what matters”
He laughed under his breath, then gestured toward the tunnel. “Come on. Let’s get you outta here.”
Security cleared the way, and suddenly you were walking beside him, the noise fading as the concrete walls swallowed it. The air back here was cooler, the lighting harsher, but it grounded you. Kyrie’s arm brushed yours once, twice—never fully touching, but close enough that you felt it.
That was the line, you reminded yourself.
The locker room door shut behind him, and you were guided into a quieter lounge area with a couple of other people—assistants, a teammate’s partner, someone scrolling on their phone. You perched on the edge of a couch, replaying the game in your head. The way he moved. The confidence. The discipline. It wasn’t just attraction—it was admiration, and that felt more dangerous somehow.
When he came back out, hair damp, hoodie pulled on over his shoulders, the shift was immediate. Less athlete, more human. He sat beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving even.”
“Good. We can go to dinner.”
The car ride was quiet in a comfortable way. City lights streaked past the tinted windows, and the hum of traffic filled the space between you. Kyrie sat across from you, long legs stretched out, phone in his hand but not really paying attention to it. Every so often, his eyes flicked up to you, then away again.
You wondered if he felt it too—that subtle shift, the energy humming just under the surface.
Dinner was tucked away in a place that felt deliberately low-key. Dim lighting, dark wood, the kind of restaurant where people minded their business because they were either too important or pretending to be. You slid into the booth across from him, the leather cool against your skin.
“How was the game— from your POV I mean” you asked as you skimmed the menu.
“Chemistry was really good, defense was questionable as fuck but we pulled through” Kyrie said with a smile
“Okayy that’s tea, I’m glad it went well. I hate when y’all lose”
“Trust we do too”
Wine appeared without much discussion. You told yourself one glass was fine. Two, maybe. You weren’t driving.
For the rest of dinner the conversation flowed easily—about the game, about travel, about school, about nothing at all. He asked questions and actually waited for your answers. For him to be a sugar daddy he was more interested than most men you dated.
By the second glass, your shoulders had loosened. The heat from earlier had settled into something softer, heavier. You caught yourself watching his hands as he talked—how they moved, expressive but controlled. You wondered what they were capable of, then immediately shut that thought down.
He noticed the way you went quiet, head tilted slightly as you stared at your glass.
“You okay?” he asked again, like it was his favorite question.
“Yeah,” you said. “Just tired.”
He nodded, like he understood more than you were saying. “We can head out whenever you want.”
You didn’t say you wanted to stay. You didn’t say you wanted to leave. Instead, you finished your wine.
The car took you back to his place almost on autopilot. You told yourself it was practical—it was late, it was closer, you could sober up before heading home. You’d done this before. Sat on his couch. Talked. Watched something you didn’t really pay attention to.
Nothing had happened before.
His place was quiet, lights low. He kicked off his shoes, gestured for you to do the same. You padded in, the familiar space somehow different tonight.
You sank into the couch, legs tucked under you, and he handed you a glass of water without being asked.
“Drink up mama,” he said.
You did.
The intensity of the win was still buzzing under your skin, the wine making you braver than usual. You leaned back, head tipping against the cushion, and looked at him through half-lidded eyes.
“You know,” you said, voice light, “you were really feeling yourself tonight.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Was I?”
“Mhm. Courtside view doesn’t lie.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Careful.”
That should’ve been your cue to rein it in. Instead, you shifted closer, close enough that your knee brushed his thigh. The contact was brief, almost accidental—but not really.
The room went quiet in a way that felt loud.
Kyrie’s gaze dropped to where you were touching, then back up to your face. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t lean in either. He set his glass down slowly, deliberately.
“Hey,” he said, low. Calm. “Nah.”
The word landed heavier than you expected.
You pulled back immediately, heat flooding your face. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He shook his head, gentle. “I know what you meant,but we’re not doing that.”
You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. You’re right.”
He leaned back, giving you space, but his voice stayed steady. “You’re a little tipsy. Big night. A lot of energy. That’s all.”
You were beyond embarrassed, no man had ever shot you down this bad. You couldn’t have misread the signals this bad. Your stomach churned, you had to come up with some crazy excuse to get out after that.
After a beat, he added, “You still good to hang out?”
You met his eyes. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good.”
He picked up the remote, turned something on low in the background. The tension didn’t vanish, you watched as he calmly sat. And all the while you nearly felt like dying. Was he not attracted to you? Was something just not right with you? The show on the TV droned on, something you’d normally ignore completely. You were hyperaware of everything instead: the space between you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his knee angled just slightly toward yours now.
Kyrie muted the TV.
The click felt loud.
“Was I too harsh earlier?” he asked again, biting his lip slightly flustered.
You nodded. “Well I wouldn’t have exactly did what you did, but I get it.”
He studied you longer than necessary, his eyes steady and unreadable. He turned fully toward you, shifting the mood completely. One arm draped along the back of the couch, close but not touching. Boxing you in without actually doing it.
“That look,” he said quietly.
You blinked. “What look?”
“The one you been giving me all night.” He paused. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Your pulse spiked. “Maybe you’re projecting.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe.”
Silence filled the room as both of you tried to read each other’s faces whilst also putting on you alls best poker face.
“You came out tonight looking like that,” he continued, “sat courtside, watched me work, then drank half a bottle of wine like you didn’t know exactly what it’d do to you.”
Your breath caught. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”
“It’s exactly what I wanted but—“
Kyrie placed a hand on your thigh dragging it slowly down to your knee to rest. You just looked at it, then back at him.
“See,” he murmured, “that look like you wanna touch me…”
“And yet you’re the one touching me,” you pointed out.
He hummed. “Yeah. I am.”
His thumb brushed your knee softly stroking it, you hadn’t had this much physical intimacy in eons. Your core was starting to beg for more, and you prayed she would get what she was asking for.
Your voice came out softer. “So why are you doing it?”
“Because I want to,” Then, quieter, “And because I know when to stop.”
Your chest tightened at that, he was such a tease.
He leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath, smell the faint mix of soap and something earthy underneath. His forehead rested briefly against yours.
“Tell me to chill,” he said. “And I will.”
You swallowed. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I still might,” he replied “Tonight ain’t about that”
His lips brushed your cheek. Barely there. A near-kiss that felt more intimate than anything else could’ve.
“Kyrie…” you exhaled shakily, beyond irritated with him. This game of cat and mouse you had going on was sexually frustrating.
“I know.” His hand stilled on your knee. “I know…”
He pulled back first, hand dropping away like it took effort. He leaned into the opposite end of the couch, creating space on purpose.
“You’re staying a bit,” he said, not asking. “You can crash if you want. Guest room’s made up.”
You nodded, emotions tangled: want, frustration, respect all twisted together. “Okay.”
He unmuted the TV, volume low, normalcy returning in pieces. After a minute, he glanced at you again.
“You did look good as fuck mama,” he added, voice lighter now, “I coulda took you down right then and there.”
You huffed a small laugh. “Oh please, quit it with the pumpfaking”
“You know me so well,” he chuckled.
You soon disappeared to the guest room, slipping into a shirt of his and falling asleep. In the master bedroom was Kyrie— stroking himself to the thought of you. How the dress you wore barely covered your ass, how the thigh high boots perfectly cuffed everything accentuating you even more. Good God he needed you bad, but he needed discipline even more. And you? You would make all of that collapse, he knew he would devote himself to you if he tasted you. Hell— he already kind of was devoted to you and he hadn’t even kissed you.
You were the typical dangerous young spoiled brat that most men like Kyrie were warned to stay away from.
a/n: i got the idea to make anthony edwards a country man from @all444glo ’s “COUNTRYBOY! ANTHONY EDWARDS HEADCANONS” 🤗 y’all should definitely read that!!
READ PART TWO HERE!
READ PART THREE HERE!
synopsis: you and anthony edwards had the strongest bond in your town. you both had been childhood best friends eventually turned lovers. both of your lives had led down different paths, bringing you both to colleges thousands of miles away from one another. but what happens when five years later, after no communication, you both are reunited?
c/w: angst and comfort (mainly angst)
word count: 8.6k (she’s long lol)
pairing: anthony edwards x black!f!reader
Listen to PARTYNEXTDOOR ~ Some of Your Love by CLO$ED DOOR [P] #np on #SoundCloud
you were your mom’s favorite child. out of her four kids, you were the second to youngest and the most behaved. you always helped her around the house, tending to the animals on the farm and preparing meals for you and your siblings. you helped her with washing and hanging laundry, and even helped with babysitting your younger sister when your brothers were too busy or didn’t care enough.
you never disobeyed her, in fear of ruining what you believed to be a strong and loving dynamic you had with her. your father was a deadbeat, which only led to your mom being stricter and more involved in you and your sibling’s lives. and you didn’t mind one bit. you never wanted to upset her.
so when you had truly upset her for the first time since your childhood, it had really rocked you. the first time that you ever cursed was in the eighth grade. you were raised to be a polite, demure, and respectable young lady, with your mom threatening to wash your mouth with soap and water if it ever came to it. the threats that you knew she would never act on had intimidated you enough though, training you to keep your lips sealed and your anger at bay.
what you did know, was that even though your mom threatened you from time to time with a soap rinse, she actually did act on it with her other kids. and even some that weren’t hers. aka anthony.
anthony edwards, the little country boy that lived just two houses down. always stayed over at least once a month at your home, playing games with your older brothers and stealing your mom’s grits and meatloaf until there was almost none left. anthony who was an aspiring nba basketball player, spending the majority of his days playing ball with your brothers in his backyard. anthony was like a third son to your mom, staying by her side and making her laugh while she cooked. walking with you and your siblings to school. anthony who was way taller than your brothers combined and was only one year older than you, making a friendship with your entire family. and that included you.
when anthony had taught you another way to let off steam — through the power of a good curse word — you actually believed it would help. but when you had accidentally believed that you could blurt the word “fuck” in the confines of your eighth grade science class, you didn’t believe the level of trouble you had gotten yourself into.
from getting sent home to receiving the first beating of your teenage years, you swore you’d never curse again. you also swore that you’d never speak to anthony again. which ended up being a lie.
because that evening, when you’d been sprawled out on the middle of your bed in your room, being sent upstairs with no dinner as punishment, you heard him.
at first you heard the crackle of the tree that stood right outside your window, but you blamed it on the wind or one of the geese outside. but then you caught sight of a hairline that was all too familiar. and there anthony was, balancing on a weak tree branch and the small casing on the outside of your window.
you immediately shot up from your spot on the bed, unlocking the window and ushering him in quietly. if your mom knew you had a boy — let alone the insanity of anthony — in your room alone, you’d probably never be allowed to leave again.
“ant, what are you doing here?” you’d harshly whispered, dragging him to sit with his legs crossed beside you on the ground. “i thought you were a goose or something,” you replied seriously, but the comedic glint in his eyes coupled with the sarcastic smirk on his lips made you giggle. you were thankful that the only light bleeding into your room was from the lamp on your desk; you’d hope it was enough to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.
“i ain’t no goose na, just came to check on my fouled mouth girl,” he sarcastically replied with his typical southern drawl, finding humor in your punishment. he zeroed in on your eyes, smile faltering slightly when he realized your eyes were bloodshot. you’d been crying.
all the humor had drained from his face at the realization, wanting nothing more than to hug you and reason with your mom that this was all his fault. he hated to see you upset knowing he was to blame. he hated seeing you upset in general.
you explained to him why you cursed, that your mom was far more upset with you than she ever had been before, and that you hadn’t eaten. he listened intently, now with one of his hands rubbing reassuring circles on the palm of your hand. when you had finished explaining to him what had happened, he looked at you in pity. then he smiled, a gracious honoring to show that you were going to be okay.
“i’ll be right back,” he curtly proclaimed, shooting up from his spot on the ground and back to the window. before you could even question it, he was out the window and down the tree. you’d transitioned from your legs crossed and sat on the ground to fully laying sprawled out on your bedroom floor, bored once again.
it wasn’t until a half an hour later that he returned through the window that you left unlocked, a brown bag in hand. you were confused as to what was inside it until you smelled some of the most delicious cornbread and collard greens ever. the only food that can smell that good had to have been from your mom.
“how did you-“
“i just said hello to ms. m/l/n and asked for some food, told her practice was long today,” he grinned, pulling out two meals on disposable plates and aluminum wrap.
“and how did you manage to get two?” you giggled, taking a plate from his extended arm.
“blamed it on puberty,” he sarcastically replied, taking his seat next to you on the ground. you both unwrapped the meals and ate through laughs and conversations. before you knew it, it was already 11:30 pm and you both had school the next morning. you had immediately stood up and cleaned everything from the floor, not noticing anthony watching in the corner by the window.
when you had finished, you made your way over to him as he had one leg out the window and the other in your room, balancing himself with his thighs. you got close to him, but not enough to be invasive.
“thank you for tonight, ant. you know... the food and all,” you softly smiled, rubbing one hand over your upper arm out of nerves. he stood up from his spot on the windowsill, and took a large step to you before engulfing you in one of his classic hugs. his warm presence coupled with his hands running up and down your back made you feel the calmest you’d felt all day.
he slowly retreated, now just a few mere inches away from you. you could see his neck physically craning downward to look you in the eye before he brought his lips to your forehead in a swift and steady motion. your cheeks heated furiously, and you hoped that your lamp light was dim enough to hide it once again.
“sleep well, goose,” he teasingly whispered, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the new nickname as he made his way out the window and down your tree, walking back to his house.
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
ever since that night, the next few years turned into more occurrences like that one. when he’d come over to hang out with your brothers, he’d always stop by your room to say a quick “wassup goose?” before heading to their room. when he’d stay over for dinners, he’d always sit in between you and your brothers, making small conversation with you and making you laugh.
and as you both entered and went through high school, that bond only strengthened. he’d begun to get more publicity for his starstellar basketball skills and nba prospects, making headlines in your town’s local newspaper. yet he never changed with you.
after late night practices, he’d climb through your window and study with you on the floors of your bedroom. he’d quiz you on science terms that prepped you to not only do well on the exams but for what you wanted to become: a veterinarian.
he’d give you quick hugs in the hallways, invite you to his basketball team’s home and away games, and even have you sit court side of his home basketball court at night when he practiced his threes and you studied anatomical terms for your AP science classes. you’d grown to have an inseparable bond, one that many of yours and his friends would tease you about.
but you both didn’t care, just yearning for more time together before the eventual outcome of it all: his graduation.
him being in the same graduating class as your brothers meant that once he left, you’d be alone. your senior year without him. you couldn’t bear the thought of it.
when anthony and your brothers graduated, both yours and his mother threw a conjoined graduation party for the three of them. the entire block was invited, with the party being held in the park in the county next to yours.
anthony’s friends and family had surrounded him the whole day, throwing piece of cakes and celebratory items around. it was truly a fun day. it was the kind of distraction you needed if you wanted to be around him without crying. you both didn’t interact with each other much at the party, both pulled in different directions to appease the guests that attended.
it wasn’t until the party had ended, and it was just you, anthony, and his mom that were left to clean up the remaining trash. your brothers had left with your mom to celebrate at home so that your mom could cry in peace without prying eyes. you volunteered to stay back, not wanting to miss a private moment with him.
anthony’s mom had driven multiple times between the park and her home to bring back anything they needed. on her last trip, she offered to drive you both home when anthony quickly declined, reassuring her that he would get you and him back to the neighborhood safely. he had his car, so you were sure it would be a quick and easy drive.
the minute you both sat in his car, you looked down at your lap before you felt the tears well and eventually fall. and he was quick to notice.
“hey hey, what’s wrong?” he quickly quipped, his hand now lightly lifting your chin to look at him. the look in your eyes absolutely destroyed him; he felt like thousands of shards had been thrown directly at his heart.
“i’m just sad about you leaving is all. leaving your friends, your town, me….” you mumbled the last part, hoping he wouldn’t hear it. but of course he did. because with him leaning across the car’s console to look you right in your eyes, there was nothing he couldn’t hear other than your shallow breaths and quickened heart beat.
he wasn’t even going to college that far away, only two hours to be exact. but with his growth in popularity and next shot at joining the nba, you felt that this was the beginning of him slipping from your fingers.
“i’m only going to be a couple hours away, and i’ll always come back to visit, you know that goose,” he countered with the southern drawl that you grew to love way too much. “now stop crying before you turn me into a waterfall too,” he joked, making you both laugh before he put the car in ignition.
the rest of the drive home was silent, other than the light hum of the radio and the wind blowing through the open car windows. after around 15 minutes, you’d both arrived at the front of your house. you dreaded having to get out and saying somewhat of an official goodbye, you wanted nothing more than to just sit with him in the car for the night until he had to leave.
and he felt the same way. because you both had made no effort to move, just sat in silence and looking ahead through the window at the silhouette figure of your mom cleaning in the kitchen. after a few minutes, he finally spoke.
“well, i guess this is it,” he asserted, eyes still focused ahead.
“yeah,” you silently concurred, your heart breaking after the one word response. you slowly moved to unbuckle your seatbelt, trying to prolong time. but you couldn’t. you opened the door, exiting the car languidly as you made your way to the front of your house. he followed closely behind, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixated on the ground.
as you both stood under your porch light, you looked up at him and already found his brown irises on you. soft and comforting, like he was telepathically communicating with you that he also didn’t want to do this. you felt your eyes welling with tears once more as you practically lunged yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck.
he met you at your height, his head finding its way to the crook of your neck, hands tightly grasping at your waist to keep you closer. like you could slip away. you both stayed in that position for a few minutes before you pulled back, just slightly. because then in that moment when your eyes reconnected, you felt it.
the urge to do something that you knew would change the dynamic between you two forever. but somehow that thought wasn’t as daunting as it used to be, knowing he’d be gone for far too long.
as if on command, you both brought your lips to the other, meshing together like you’d somehow done this before. his lips felt as soft as they had on your forehead in the eighth grade, and just as comforting too.
your lips moved slow at first, but quickened when you pulled him closer. he brought his hand to the back of your neck, angling your head so that he could get more access to your now bruised lips. he couldn’t believe he was in this position right now. and that it hadn’t happened in the last fifteen years of friendship.
after another minute of silent stolen kisses, you pulled away. now with your hands on his chest to stabilize you from how lightheaded you felt.
you smiled. smiled at the fact that you now had this moment with him forever. your first kiss and it was with the boy that you had loved so dearly.
“bye ant,” you whispered, thumb running over his cheekbone one last time. “don’t forget me,” you were only half joking.
“i could never, goose,” he remarked, a smirk playing at his lips at the fond nickname he used every now and then. you lightly slapped his arm at the remembrance of that night in eighth grade. “you’ll hear from me soon,” he casually replied, as if you both hadn’t just made out for the last five minutes. he bent down to give you a prolonged kiss on the cheek, which only made your cheeks rush with heat.
he pulled away and lightly jogged off the two front steps of your porch, making his way back to his car. he sat himself in the driver’s seat, now putting his car in reverse and gave you one last wave.
and even though you felt your heart breaking all over again, you held onto his last words to you. because even with the distance that would form, you could at least hold on to that promise.
for now.
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
you were always fond of washington, d.c. you loved the idea of being in such an important place, filled with enclaves of different cultures and historical sites. you’d visited once in high school, and immediately felt drawn to the city. more than anything, you felt drawn to the fact that you were surrounded by your people through and through. it was just like back home, not wanting to feel singled out or racially excluded. it was on that field trip that you had convinced yourself that you would relocate there after graduating college.
and that’s exactly what you did. because now, one year post-grad and a few months into your veterinary program in d.c., you couldn’t have been happier. you felt like you had been getting your life on track without giving so much as a thought to your life back home.
of course, you still maintained connections with your siblings and mother. but there was something about going back home or remembering its existence that floored your mood entirely. maybe it was the reminder of constant studying and no time to enjoy being a kid. or maybe it was him, your ant.
you and anthony hadn’t spoken since he left for college. he completed one semester of college before joining the nba, being drafted to the minnesota timberwolves as the first overall pick. since then, he’d made headlines across the nation, but specifically in your town’s local newspapers.
you remember being in your final semester of high school, and all that surrounded you was his name and face. he hadn’t even texted you. not for any birthdays or updates on his life. he hadn’t even responded to your congratulatory text for being drafted.
as the years went on and texts remained unanswered, you’d lost hope in your relationship with him. but more than that, you’d become depressed. your mother had mentioned how ant would still check in on your brothers, which only worsened your mental health at the thought of being intentionally ignored.
why was he ignoring you? had you done something? you were thankful that you’d already applied to colleges by then or else you feared that your depression and lack of motivation to do anything would have ruined your career.
but now, years later, you were fully independent and in the city of your dreams, pursuing your dream job! you couldn’t be happier. even when you’d turn on the tv and saw his face during a game or on the post-game nba tv shows, you were happy. or when you were at work, talking with your colleagues and they’d casually mention how well anthony and his team played in a game. you didn’t budge, not wanting them to know you had any sort of affiliation with him.
you now worked as an assistant to the lead veterinarian in a local but small vet clinic that was smack dab in washington, d.c. it was a dream job. you had great coworkers that were more friends than colleagues and you lived alone with your pet cat. you couldn’t complain.
which is why tonight, when you and your three favorite coworkers were assigned the late shift at the office, you had no complaints. it was now 11:37 pm on a frigid november night, and you and your coworkers had been debating over whether this season of love island was intentionally made to instigate racial wars or if it was just the audience’s fault.
you and your three coworkers — kyla, denny, and michelle — were holding down the office as the main vet, dr. robinson, had to head home earlier that day. you loved when it was just the four of y’all in the space and there weren’t as many clients due to the cold weather. you were really just getting paid to yap with one another.
“alright alright, as much as i love a nicolandria discussion, we have to eat. so who is going to get the food?” you asked, eyes widening when all three of them had pointed at you.
“whoever asks has to be the one who’s most hungry, therefore, should be the one to get the food. i don’t make the rules,” denny shrugged, getting kyla and michelle to cackle at your despair.
“aren’t you the man here?” you quickly shot back, making kyla and michelle laugh harder as denny’s smile quickly turned to a faux frown.
“nah come on, i’ll go with you y/n,” kyla offered, already rising from her seat at the front desk and making her way over to the coat closet. you stood up shortly after, having a squinting battle with denny as you also made your way to the coat closet, which was located in the staff room on the other side of the office.
you and kyla had chatted with each other for a bit while slipping your coats on when you heard the bell chime over the entrance to the clinic. “dang, whoever just came in must have a real emergency if they pulling up right now,” kyla joked, finishing up the last few buttons on her coat.
you heard a disgruntled voice on the other side of the door, rambling about an issue that their dog was having. but weirdly, the client was met with silence. where were denny and michelle? you thought to yourself.
you heard denny try to put together a sentence, but he was stammering. what the hell?
you heard the client’s voice again try to coax a response out of your coworkers, but they were a met with deafening silence. you made your way to the door to exit the staff room but paused abruptly. you listened a little longer to the voice that had been venting, your eyes widening slightly. why did this voice sound so familiar?
“girl you good?” kyla asked, confused by your silence and stiff posture. you didn’t reply but slowly opened the door, afraid of who might be on the other side. and you were right to fear it.
because the eyes that met yours on the other side of the clinic were familiar. painfully so. the brown irises — that were somehow so stark that you could see it from where you stood across the office — widened at the sight of you too. ah, so the shock was mutual.
your hands had fallen to your sides, the gloves you’d carried slipping through your fingers to the floor before you even got to wear them. your mouth had fallen so far down that had it weighed a ton, you’re sure it would’ve caused a hole that fell to the earth’s mantle. you couldn’t even voice the thousands of thoughts that had flown through your head before denny’s voice cut in.
“nigga what the hell is anthony edwards doing at my job?” he screeched. it appeared that he was so starstruck that he hadn’t spoken until now. twins. michelle let out a high pitched yell, which caused kyla to run from behind you and join them, highkey fangirling at the sight of an nba star at their place of work. living in d.c. meant that you all had seen your fair share of celebrities, politicians, and world leaders. but when one of the most well-esteemed nba players in the country happened to stumble into your local vet clinic, of course you were all astounded. well, you were for different reasons.
because as your coworkers continued to lose their minds at the sight of him, you hadn’t budged from your spot in between the staff room and main desk. your eyes hadn’t left his, your mouth still open, but your heart rate picked up. similarly, anthony’s gaze never wavered, highly fixated on the way you looked at him like he was the last person you expected to see.
anthony had worn a casual fit — grey sweatpants and a black hoodie that had been pulled to cover his head. you felt ridiculously underdressed in your pink scrubs, even though you were literally at work. maybe you felt silly because you were the only one in pink while your coworkers were in green scrubs. or maybe because your curls were thrown into a bun that had no real shape, depicting your exhaustion.
or maybe you felt underdressed because he looked just as handsome as he did on tv. if anything, more so. when your colleagues had finally quieted down, they noticed the awkward silence and prolonged stares between the two of you.
“uh…do you two know each other?” michelle broke the silence, eyes switching between you and anthony’s stoic positions. you both hadn’t answered, but anthony’s mouth moved to form some kind of explanation for your silent stares. but instead of hearing what he would’ve said, you spoke.
“w-what are you doing here?” you hated how shaky your voice sounded. like you were intimidated or genuinely impacted by his presence. which of course you were, but he didn’t need to know that. you gulped, trying to find any strength left within you to avoid choking on your building tears in front of everyone.
“we had a game against the… the wizards. but my dog, he’s uh … sick, or something,” he staggered out, the bass in his voice both familiar and beautiful. he started to lose some of his southern accent, but if you listened closely — which you did — you could hear a hint of it. you’d been so taken aback by his presence that you didn’t even notice the english bulldog in his arms. despite the whispers from your colleagues, anthony was only looking at you, like the prying eyes to the left of him were non-existent. was he nervous too?
“well we can surely help you with that! if you could just provide me with the symptoms and when this all started?” michelle investigated, opening a new patient form for him. as denny and michelle asked anthony more questions, you felt yourself being dragged back to the staff room. you didn’t even fight it as your eyes re-focused from anthony to your new surroundings, a wide-eyed kyla staring back at you.
“girl what the hell is going on?” she inquired, pulling you both to sit side by side on one of the benches in the room. “how the hell do you know anthony edwards?”
“i-we um… grew up together,” you recalled, looking around the staff room as a distraction. you felt your cheeks heat at the sudden flashback of memories with him. were you going to cry? scream? run outside and punch him square in the jaw? hug him? you really didn’t know.
“we were best friends but we lost contact, i-i don’t know why,” you trailed off, now feeling choked up when you remembered your last interaction with him. how his lips felt, how he looked at you like there was nothing more that mattered to him then being with you in that moment. you were now picking at your thumb nail, finding any distraction to keep yourself from crying in front of kyla.
“i see,” she curtly responded, looking at your face to judge what emotions you held in. you could tell she had more questions but didn't want to pry. instead, she pulled you lightly by the arm to give you a hug, her other arm running up and down your back. you felt like you could cry, like you needed to, but nothing came out. weirdly enough, you only felt that urge when thinking about him or looking at him. weird.
your hug with kyla was cut short when michelle burst into the room, an exhilarated expression on her face. her excitement must’ve been through the roof because she didn’t even notice the solemn expression on your face before she enthusiastically spoke.
“y/n, you’re on patient room 2. aka anthony edwards. aka the best shooting guard ever!” she blustered, hopping up and down. and your face fell, your heart rate quickening as you took in the new information.
“w-what do you mean i’m assigned to him? i didn’t ask to-“
“well it doesn’t matter, you’re going. also he requested you so,” she trailed off happily before changing the topic. “plus this will be such a good experience to add to your resume, so come on!” of course he requested you. michelle was now pulling you away from kyla’s grasp and into the hallway.
she had quickly handed you anthony’s dog’s files, prepping you with the summarized information and before you could even protest, she opened the door and forcefully pushed you into his room before closing the door quickly behind you.
at the sight of your harsh entrance, anthony stood up immediately with his dog in his hands, eyes searching your face. you hadn’t been this close to him in years, and you weren’t ready. you weren’t ready to take in the soft expression in his eyes, how tall he actually was in comparison to you, and his soft lips. again.
a full minute had passed of you both staring at each other, again. you cleared your throat as a way to break the silence, which only brought his gaze from your eyes to your lips. damn it. you bit down on your bottom lip, hard. any chance to distract yourself from his intense gaze would be a win in your book.
“are you o-“
“can you please place—” you cut him off, glancing down at the name of his dog before continuing “—ant. jr on the table please.”
you turned away from him and to the station of medical supplies, effectively cutting the eye contact. did this nigga seriously name his dog after himself?
once you had slipped your gloves on and turned back around, you found anthony standing even closer to you, with ant. jr on the small table in the middle of the room. you took a deep breath to gather the stability in your voice before beginning the preliminary screening.
“so after looking at ant. jr’s chart, i’m seeing some higher than average rates of constipation. did he eat something unusual or new in the last few days?” you examined, pressing your two fingers to either side of the dog’s stomach. you tried your hardest to maintain your professionalism as you kept your eyes trained on the dog, ignoring the intense weight of his eyes.
“nah, he’s been straight,” he replied, “but every time i pet him here he starts whimpering or some shit,” anthony finished, bringing his hand right next to yours. the heat radiating from his hand was enough to make you retract from the dog, not wanting the skin on skin contact to throw you off from the task at hand. but sure enough, when anthony pressed down slightly on the left side of his dog’s stomach, he whimpered loudly.
your eyebrows furrowed, zeroing in on the dog’s lower stomach. you speculated that he must’ve swallowed something inedible when anthony wasn’t looking. but you wouldn’t be sure until you ordered an x-ray. before you could deliver a prognosis, you heard anthony’s thick voice cut through the silence.
“i can’t believe you really doing it,” he blurted, eyes trained on you and your careful movements with his dog.
“i’m sorry?”
“you know what i mean, y/n,” he reasoned in the type of tone that insinuated you had to make eye contact with him to get what he was hinting at. but you knew what he meant. you gave in anyway, though, wanting to look at him one more time to prove to yourself that he was real and in fact in front of you.
once you looked at him, you felt your heart flutter. it felt like every time you both made eye contact it couldn’t be for less than five seconds. like if you didn’t prolong the eye contact by at least 20 seconds then you were wasting your time. because now when you truly looked at him, is when you took in his new features. of course you saw him on tv all the time, but to see these changes in person was a completely different experience.
like now his hoodie was lower on his shoulders, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. now he was exposing a bit of his neck and collar bone as well as his forearm. he had new tattoos, you noticed. you knew he always wanted them. you also noticed that his hair was shorter than when you last saw him, and you honestly liked it better this way. but you wouldn’t tell him that.
before you could get deeper into your thoughts, he brought you out of your trance.
“i mean, i can’t believe you’re going after your dream. like you really doing this shit,” he finished, a prideful smile on his lips. and you don’t know why it made your skin bloom with heat. like his opinion still mattered gravely to you.
“i could say the same for you, too. i mean playing professionally and all. i wonder how difficult it must’ve been, you know, to completely abandon everyone you love to dribble a ball for a living,” you chided, eyes widening at what you just admitted. you hadn’t really meant that. but you quickly brought your face to a neutral expression.
on the contrary, his expression also changed at your words, but he didn’t look offended. he looked almost amused that you were being petty. like he wanted to see and feel your rage. if you were a different person, you would’ve left him and his wounded dog in the room with no care. but you cared more than you wanted to admit.
“goose, i-"
“don’t call me that,” your tone was icy now, immediately shutting him up. “you lost every privilege of calling me that when you left without even so much as a phone call.”
all the amusement drained from his face, replaced with sorrow and regret. and you were content with that. for the sake of professionalism, you collected ant. jr’s paperwork and made your way to the door. “i’m going to get michelle or denny to run a few tests. they’ll be back in a few minutes.”
before he could stop you, you were already out the door. you clutched your clipboard to your chest to calm the erratic heartbeat that you could now feel in your ears. as you made a sharp turn from the room, you nearly bumped into your three colleagues. they were perched on their knees, clearly trying to listen to your conversation with the nba superstar. instead of feeling annoyed at their intrusion, you felt yourself laugh quietly before walking past them, leaving them in their awkward positions on the floor as they gawked at your anger at the nba player.
denny followed shortly behind you, oozing with intrusive questions about you and anthony’s dynamic. kyla and michelle had steered away from the conversation, actually taking their jobs seriously and trying to find the issue with anthony’s dog.
you had tuned denny out, glancing at your watch for the time. it was now 12:42 am and you had three hours left of your shift. great.
after a few more minutes of denny’s invasive questions that you chose to ignore, michelle and kyla returned with an x-ray shot of the dog’s stomach. kyla held up the image directly in front of you, displaying what appeard to be a cap to a perfume bottle lodged in his stomach. when you looked up at kyla, she was giggling to herself at the idiocy of this dog.
but before you all could join in on a collective laugh, you heard the door to anthony’s room open. he emerged with his dog in his arms, a confused but reassured smile on his lips as he saw you all at peace over what seemed to be ant jr’s test results. before he could even ask what the results were, kyla chipped in.
“don’t worry mr. edwards, ant jr. just accidentally swallowed what appears to be a perfume bottle cap. he just has to excrete the foreign object and will be perfectly fine,” she reassured him, handing over the dog’s reports and scanned images. “he should feel some relief in the next 24 hours,” kyla concluded, gesturing to the dog’s stomach.
“thanks… to all of you,” anthony replied, eyes only trained on you. you couldn’t even look at him, but your coworkers gawked at his intense stare with your downcast eyes. instead of replying, you awkwardly moved from where you stood to behind the main desk, searching for nothing but an escape from the now immovable silence.
suddenly, denny chimed in with the idea of the century.
“y/n, we’re all still hungry as hell. and you’re still on food duty… maybe ant can join you in getting us some pizza?”
your eyes narrowed at his offer, not falling for his sad attempt at getting you and anthony together alone.
“yeah and we want two pizzas, so you’ll probably need help… you know carrying it and all,” michelle added, now in on the secret plan to get you and anthony out of the clinic.
“i can get it myself, i don’t ne-"
“i’m down,” anthony cut you off, a suggestive smirk on his lips as michelle and denny silently fist bumped in the corner.
you rolled your eyes, slightly playful but mixed with real annoyance.
“i’ll get my wallet.”
“nah, you don’t need it.”
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
after living in d.c. for some time, you fell in love with walking around the city at night. it was mildly safe, less crowded, and oddly reminded you of the serenity of being back home with your family.
which is why now, at the convenient hour of 1 am, you’re now strolling on some random street with the 6’4 luminary at your side. he was carrying both the boxes of buffalo chicken pizza, insisting that he didn't want you to lift a finger.
you should’ve known bringing your wallet would’ve been useless. anthony never let you pay for anything when the two of you were together, especially now that you and your colleagues had essentially cured his dog.
you both walked in silence, your shoulders softly bumping into one another as you tried to focus more on the path back to the clinic than his soft breathing. you were about to turn the corner to the street that he now recognized as belonging to your clinic before he spoke.
“we ain’t gotta go back right now… right?” he broke the silence, stopping you in your tracks.
“uh, what else would we be doing?” you awkwardly shifted in your position on the sidewalk, now completely facing him. he had a mischievous glint in his eyes but was met with the deadpan expression in yours.
“i don’t know what you have planned, but no,” you concluded, resuming your walk back to the clinic. you didn’t even make it five steps before you felt him lightly tug at your arm. you regretfully turned back to him and found him unwavering in his stance.
“y’know i don’t like saying no to you, goose, but we sh-"
“oh really? because last time i asked you to do something it felt like a harsh no to me,” you retaliated, arms now crossed in front of your chest. though your stance came off as defensive, it was a grave attempt at trying to calm your nerves.
you visibly saw him gulp, nostrils slightly flaring as he attempted to keep his composure. he was still balancing the pizza boxes in one arm, knuckles becoming even more prominent as he gripped the box. you couldn’t tell if he was about to spark a conversation or crash out.
“you know i ain’t forget about you,” he croaked, his brown eyes further illuminated by the street lamp overhead.
and for the first time in the last few hours, you laughed. a full throaty laugh that had you hunched over, using the nearby rail for balance. anthony’s eyes widened as he watched you belly laugh at something that he didn’t find particularly funny. he stood confused for the next half minute until you calmed down, the sarcasm in your eyes now more evident than before.
“are you fucking serious right now?” you snickered, your fully body laughs now subsided. “niggas these days and their stupid ass lies.”
and for some reason that was all it took for him to corner you in between him and the nearby wall. you felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs, not by the force of his movements, but the intimacy of it all. he had tossed the pizza boxes to the side, not caring whether they had opened or not. his hands were now on either side of your head and shoulders and you could smell the mint on his breath. damn him for always smelling good.
though the way you both stood would have appeared romantic on the outside, the calm in his demeanor had now disappeared. he stood directly in front of you with a look of anger that you’d only seen him with on the court. but you didn’t back down, instead your gaze shifted in between both of his eyes, glaring at him like he was just another client that had grown an attitude.
“i ain’t no liar, cut that shit,” he snarked, eyes more focused on your lips instead of where they should’ve been. but then a smirk formed on his face. “i see you cursing now though, its cute."
"yeah, well there's a lot about me that you don't know. or deserve to know..." you sassed, now crossing your arms across your chest, bumping slightly against his chest. you hated that his intense gaze was actually getting to you.
"aight, i deserve that," he heartlessly chuckled, now looking down at the pebbles beneath his shoes. "but don't act like i don't know you."
"oh really?" you snarked, fully intending for him to back down. but he didn't. instead, he looked you directly in your eyes like this was some sort of challenge.
"i know that your favorite color is still pink, 'cause you were the only one wearing that color on your scrubs back there," he started. you couldn't believe he noticed that.
"i know that you probably have a cat now, considering you could never stop talking about it in high school," he jeered, making your cheeks heat profusely. "i know that even though you a city girl now, you still go home a lot to help your lil sis with her college shit."
and then he concluded his argument, slowly as if to taunt you. "and i know that you don't even curse for real, but you did just now because you wanted to prove something to me." the southern bass in his voice was now more pronounced and he was inches closer to your face than when he previously started.
you nervously gulped. you couldn't even hide it at that point. okay so maybe he knew some things, but he hadn't seen the woman you'd become. and he didn't deserve to.
"i had a lot going on, and yeah i ain’t reach out but i had my reasons. but i sure as hell ain’t forget you.”
your heart sunk. so there was a reason he chose to ignore you.
“i don’t believe you,” you fired back. “i don’t believe that something so drastic happened that you could still keep in touch with my brothers and not me,” you jeered, arms now floundering in front of you as you tried to anchor yourself in your words. but your voice was failing you as you felt your confidence wavering underneath his dominating presence.
“how the hell you think i could talk to your brothers and forget about you, huh?” he gibed loudly, inching even closer to you then you thought was possible. you were now yelling at each other in the middle of the street. you were even more grateful now that there was no one around to draw attention to him and the argument. “anytime i was with them, i asked about you, i just…”
your brothers had never mentioned that to you. your eyebrows furrowed at his incomplete sentence and the lack of information from your two idiot siblings. silence ensued, pure and weighted silence. you both looked away from each other, anthony’s eyes shifted between both yours and his feet while you looked away from him. he didn’t look at you until he heard you sniffle, his expression altering from anger to concern.
you didn’t know why you were crying. you thought you were over this. over him. but when he looked at you with those eyes that were oh so reminiscent of the last time you were together, you found yourself yearning for him all over again. and you despised it. like all the healing from the last five years counted for nothing.
multiple tears had escaped you now, and you saw anthony’s hand fidget at his side, fighting to wipe them away but wanting to respect your boundaries. your vision had blurred and your head was spinning, overwhelmed by your own emotions as well as his comforting but distant presence.
“the fame, the success, everything… it became too much. i felt like i was drowning with all the attention, and it was never ending,” he started, lowering himself slightly to look you directly in the eyes.
“i never wanted to stop talking to you. you’re all i thought about. you were the only person i wanted with me, but i knew you had your own shit going on. i ain't want you to see me like that… i didn’t want to hurt you, goose.”
and your heart stung at the nickname that he kept repeating throughout the night.
then he waited for you to yell. he waited for the argument, for the angry look in your eyes to multiply tenfold. but he was met with your glassy eyes and another heavy silence.
“i-i waited for you,” your voice cracks, and anthony feels like he was being stabbed in the chest repeatedly. “you would’ve never hurt me by being yourself,” you lamented. “you hurt me by hiding yourself from me.”
anthony couldn’t help but bring his hand to your face, wiping at your now dampened cheeks. and without hesitation, like it was a natural response, your head leaned into his hold. like it was a lifeline. like it was familiar. and it painfully was.
his eyes softened, now shifting between your dazed eyes and your bicolored lips, making you lose composure. because you too were looking in between his puppy dog eyes and dark pink lips.
without so much as a second thought, you lightly pulled him by the collar of his sweatshirt, connecting your lips with his. and it was exactly how it felt five years ago.
his lips were so soft as they tentatively moved in tandem with yours, his hand now moving from your tear-stained cheek to the small of your back. he held you tightly, like if his arm wasn’t anchoring you to his tall frame, you’d be gone. again.
he had lightly pushed you further against the wall for balance. but you didn’t complain. you actually needed the leverage to keep standing. because the way he held you, the way his lips moved on your own, had made your lightheadedness triple.
you felt your legs turn to mush as he used one hand to hold the back of your head, angling your lips to his for better access. his other hand still held you tightly and closely, and you never wanted to leave. his pace quickened, now slipping his tongue beyond your lips, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan from your throat.
you brought your hands to his cheeks, caressing the cheeks that you had missed so much. you moved from his cheeks to his hair, fingers dwindling with the brushed out coils at the bottom of his neck. but after a few seconds, in a move that pulled at your heart strings, he tugged your hand from his cheek and interlocked your fingers with his.
without removing his lips from your own, he brought your interlocked hand above your head with his other hand still latched onto your waist, rubbing circles on your now exposed skin.
the silence of the area was complimented by his low grunts, your heavy breathing, and your bodies awkwardly re-adjusting on the wall every few seconds. a few seconds had passed of making out before he disconnected your hands so that he could use both hands to lift you off the ground, his hands now gripping at the bottom of your thighs to keep your balance.
you forgot how strong he actually was, not even breaking a sweat as he continued pressing loving kisses to your lips while balancing you. he was always a great multitasker.
it was in this position that you had felt him through his pants. and you were getting dizzy, your head now leaning back on the wall to ground yourself. but he didn’t let up. and you didn’t want him to. because as all of him was pressed against you, you remembered just how much you used to love him. how, at the expense of your growth, you wanted to be with him like this until you both got caught.
but you'd gotten too deep in thought, with your eyes welling at the thought of him leaving again. anthony had continued with his tongue in your mouth, not noticing your now wet cheeks.
anthony had pulled away from your lips to litter your cheeks with open mouthed kisses of adoration. but he stopped once he tasted and felt the saltiness of your tears.
he pulled back further, now taking in what was happening. he placed you back on your two feet as you looked up at him with your shiny orbs.
“c’mon goose, what are yo-"
“i-i’m sorry, i can’t do this,” you cut him off, leaving from his grasp and rushing to the pizza that he had discarded on the ground. you picked up the pizza as well as the small tote bag you’d been carrying, and turned back around to face him. when you’d relocked eyes, he looked like a lost puppy that watched its owner ignore him.
your lips were now bruised and you were still breathing heavily, recovering from what had just happened. but instead of letting another tear slip, you took another step away from him. you straightened your posture, your eyes now firmly locked on his own without so much as a tremble in your lips.
“as much as i want this, i can’t. you hurt me, ant. i’m not letting you back in that easily,” you heaved, your heart breaking with every word you delivered. instead of trying to fight you on it, he stood still, his lips in a thin line of acquiescence.
your knuckles had gone white at the sheer strength you were using to hold onto the now cold pizzas. with a shaky, quick glance at your watch, you saw the time: 1:32 am. shit.
“i-i have to go,” you mumbled, eyes now fixated on the ground. “good luck,” you added, not sure what you were even referring to. you saw his mouth open as if to speak, but you turned on your heel too quick to hear him out. you’d quickly walked back to the clinic, mentally preparing yourself on the way for what your colleagues would have to say.
anthony was left on his own in the middle of the random street. his heart aching and his lips soar.
because now it was you leaving. it was you asserting your boundaries and not leaving vulnerable and hopeless like before. now it was him that was left to question everything, to reminisce longingly with no tools to find the answer.
but why did your heart still ache, even more so than the first time he left?
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
a/n: ok so this ended on a cliffhanger LOL but i am still thinking about how to write part 2!! i have ideas tho... i hope this wasn't too long :)
You’d been living with your friend Victor for almost a year, and this had never happened—not once. Your living arrangements was a bit unconventional but you didn’t wanna pay full rent, and Victor was tired of living alone. You knew his habits well enough by now. He’s a single man in his 20s it was almost expected. Whenever he disappears into his room with his headphones and shut the door, that was his time. You weren’t naïve but you also didn’t care, everybody does it. You also had your reserved time to play with yourself. It’s just apart of life not something to spiral over.
Except now you couldn’t ignore it.
The sound wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t even muted. It was high, sharp, almost cartoonish moaning bleeding straight through the wall between your rooms, loud enough that you paused mid-equation, pen hovering uselessly over your notebook.
You stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
These walls are way too thin.
You tried to tune it out. You really did. You forced your eyes back onto the math problem in front of you, jaw tight, fingers tapping against the desk. But the noises didn’t fade. If anything, they got worse. You would’ve thought he appreciated realism like the rest of the world, and moved on to twitter. But it seemed like the French boy preferred to manufactured shit that tortured your ears— you didn’t want to hear anything actually.
There was some dialogue too, but you couldn’t place the language. It wasn’t English. It wasn’t French either. That made it worse, somehow. Why was Victor watching something he couldn’t even understand? And why was it this loud?
After ten minutes, you snapped.
You pushed back from your desk with a sharp scrape of the chair, running a hand down your face as you stood. This was ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to suffer through your roommate’s porn while trying to study. Your stomach churned nervously, how do you even tell someone you can hear them gooning and not be just as embarrassed.
You stepped into the hallway, stopping in front of his door.
Up close, it was even worse. God he needed to download twitter. You knocked once, the sound cut off immediately.
There was a pause. Then the door cracked open just enough for Victor’s face to appear, brows lifted slightly, expression cautious.
“Yes?” he asked.
You opened your mouth.
Nothing came out.
He waited, fingers tapping lightly against the doorframe. “You okay?”
“I—” You swallowed. “I can hear your videos through the wall. You didn’t connect your headphones.”
The words spilled out all at once.
His entire face flushed. His mouth fell open a little before he snapped it shut, nodding fast.
“Oh—shit. I’m—yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—fuck.”
He shut the door quickly, clearly mortified.
You stood there for a moment before turning back to your room, heart thudding harder than it should’ve been.
Victor Wembanyama was too freaked out for his own good.
The second time happened later.
Much later.
You were already in bed, lights off, halfway to sleep when it started again: obnoxiously , breathy moaning slicing through the quiet. Victor needed a girlfriend or maybe a hobby, even though you’d think basketball would be enough. Your eyes snapped open.
You stared at the ceiling, blinking the sleep away.
This time, it felt deliberate.
You rolled onto your side, listening. The volume had to be maxed out. There was no way he didn’t know. Either Victor was completely shameless—or he wanted to be caught.
The thought made your stomach twist.
You huffed, throwing the blanket off and standing, arms crossed tight as you padded down the hallway. The sounds were even worse outside his door. You knocked, harder this time.
“Yeah?” His voice sounded strained.
“Plug your headphones in,” you snapped. “I can hear everything.”
“Huh?!—”
You scoffed.
Before he could say anything else, you pushed the door open.
Victor gasped. His phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a loud smack. Your eyes dropped automatically and froze.
The screen showed some stereotypical pornhub video. The kind with angles, dramatic lighting, and stupid faces.
You stared.
“…Dude you need to grow up”
“Oh my god,” Victor groaned, scrambling to grab his phone. His face was blotchy now, flushed deep red as he tried—and failed—to shut it off. You bit your lip, fighting laughter.
Victor Wembanyama. Seven-foot prodigy. Watching the loudest, fakest porn imaginable.
You laughed. Soft at first, then louder when he covered himself instinctively, shoulders hunched.
“You’re unbelievable,” you said, amused.
He wouldn’t look at you.
You stepped closer, smirk tugging at your mouth. “So. Was this on purpose? Or do you just keep ‘forgetting’ your headphones?”
Silence.
You sat on the edge of his bed, patting the mattress beside you. He hesitated, then sat, phone clutched tight over his lap.
“Finish it,” you said calmly.
His head snapped up. “What?”
“I said finish your video.”
The way his breath stuttered told you everything.
You leaned against his shoulder, eyes on the screen as he hesitantly hit play again. The noise filled the room, it nearly split your ears but you wanted to see how far it’d go. You slid a hand under his shirt, feeling his breath hitch.
He didn’t stop you.
You traced slow patterns over his stomach, smirking when you felt the tension coil beneath your fingers.
“You’re cute,” you murmured. “Getting this worked up over internet girls.”
“It’s—” He stopped himself, cheeks burning.
You guided his hand where you wanted it. “Take care of it.”
“In front of you?”
“In front of me! I’ll tell you exactly what to do, it’ll be fun!”
“I hate that you’re treating this like a game.”
You giggled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his temple, he rolled his eyes a little but rested his head on your shoulder. You ran a hand through his hair lovingly using your other hand to take his and place it over his bulge. He put his phone on your thigh, his doe eyes still locked on the screen as he went to put his hands in his pants, but you grabbed his wrist shaking your head.
“Not yet, you gotta let it simmer. I want you to last as long as possible “ His face was cherry red, but he listened to you slowly palming himself through his pants. You watched his brows knit together as he held a little tighter onto his dick, he rubbed himself a little harder his jaw dropping a little bit at the harsh friction. He kept his focus on his phone screen, moving his hand faster making you slap his wrist with a disapproving glare.
“Keep it slow or you’re going to cum fast. Let me have my fun Vic ”
He shook his head, his hand slowing down with a small huff, swallowing loudly as he blinked a few times down at his phone. You began massaging his scalp again, pressing another kiss to his forehead humming softly. Your eyes shifted from the girl getting her guts rearranged to Victor’s hand moving slowly over the fabric, it was a pretty hard to stay focused on one thing. You watched him shift and squirm as his hand stayed moving at a slow pace. He peppered kisses and soft moans against your neck.
“Alright, you can start now”
He sighed loudly in relief before sliding down his underwear, pressing his cheek against your shoulder letting out the cutest gasp when he was able to wrap his hand around his dick with no barriers. You let your hand cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone gently as you watched his hips move a little making you squeeze his hip a little.
“Aw, look at you. Fucking your hand in front of me while watching your little internet girls.”
Victor whined loudly as he moved his hand a little faster. You didn’t say anything this time, feeling his cheeks get hotter under your hand. You could feel your core growing wetter and wetter, you’d need your own alone time after this.
“It’s just porn.”
You laughed a little down at him, his eyes squeezing shut as you tangled your hand into his hair tugging softly.
“Lay down,” You commanded sharply feeling his warmth leave you as he laid on his back, his hand still tightly wrapped around the base of his dick breathing heavily as you laid on your side slowly pushing his shirt up to reveal his chest making his stomach flinch inwards.
“Give me your hand.” He gave you his free hand, but you shook your head nodding towards his occupied hand making him huff softly as he let go of his dick the soft smack of it hitting his stomach making you smile softly. You took his wrist into your hand, bringing his hand to your mouth slowly spitting into his palm making him whimper a little.
“Fuck your hand, Victor.” You whispered rubbing your nose against his cheek, eyes casting downward to watch his hand tightly fist around the had of his dick moaning softly when he lifted his hips into his hand.
He started off slow the blushy head of his dick appearing and disappearing in his fist, a few squelching sounds filling his room making your stomach tighten as you rubbed your thighs together. You rubbed his tense stomach tightly making you hum softly, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder nudging his knee with yours.
“Go faster.” You whispered hearing him groan quietly as he thrusted his now leaking dick into his hand. His hazy brown eyes rolling back a little as he shut his eyes, his pouty lips parting causing a few gritty moans to fall out, and his head falling to the side as his hips snapped into his tight fist.
“Loosen your grip. I don’t want you to cum yet.”
“Not-Not gonna cum yet.”
“Loosen your grip, Vic.” He whined at your command but listened hesitantly, his grip getting looser but his hips never stopping. You pressed a kiss to his jawline as he knitted his brows together, you nuzzled into his neck smirking softly at how his soft moans mixed in with the video, that was slowly coming to a end.
“Focus on the head more. I wanna hear you moan. You sound so cute.”
“You’re so bossy.” He huffed still listening to you, rubbing his palm on his head making him gasp quietly his back arching off his bed. You watched his hand clumsy rub at the pretty pink head of his dick, making you smirk softly rubbing his stomach once again. “You look so good baby, your teammates know you like shit like this?” He shook his head quickly as he pumped his dick, moaning loudly at the sensation as if he’s never experienced it before.
“You love being told what to do, don’t you? You need your roommates to help you cum hm?” His whole face was red again, his stomach clenched at your harsh yet true words. You watched his hand work faster, harder, desperate to cum, his hips fucking into his palm once again groaning loudly as he rolled his head away from you.
You grabbed his jaw making him face you once again, he whimpered loudly eyes still shut and brows still tightly knitted together as you glanced down at the tiny pool of transparent liquid on his clenching stomach. You gently stroked his cheek humming softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as you rested your chin on his head.
“This dick so pretty baby, why you been hiding it? I know you wanna cum so bad” He nodded in your hand before groaning softly as you watched his lips twitch a little which made you fill with the need to kiss him. You looked down watching his thighs shake a little, you pressed a sweet kiss in between his furrowed brows with a sweet smile.
“You can cum. Let mommy watch you cum”
You swore you could hear him mumble out a thank you before a beautiful long moan leaving his trembling moan leave his lips. His hand held tightly on his shaft when he came, thick spurts of creamy opal decorated on his stomach even shooting high enough to stain his shirt. He gave his dick a few more strokes before slowing his hand down, his chest rising and falling quickly moaning once again.
Your hand tangled in his hair again, softly stroking the strands as he struggled to catch his breath. You pressed another soft kiss to his temple making him inch closer to you wanting to be held. That was adorable, he was pretty adorable now that you’re looking at him in this light.
“Holy shit.” He groaned looking down at his stomach, his head falling back onto his matters sighing softly as he ran a hand through his hair as you sat up looking around his room. You got up to grab a towel from his laundry basket, giving him a soft smile as you turned back towards him watching him cover his eyes with the crook of his elbow.
“Can’t believe you watched me beat it— this is embarrassing”
You laughed quietly as you sat next to him smiling sweetly over at him as you cleaned off his chest smirking softly.
“I don’t know it was pretty hot to me”
He blushed softly as he pulled his arm off his face smiling softly down at you.
“You were really into it.”
“I was just responding to you, it seemed like you throughly enjoyed it”
Victor laughed at that, his cheeks getting rosier if that was even possible. There was a nice silence. One which you filled by pulling his pants upend pulling his soiled shirt off. You let your finger run down the bridge of his nose, trace his cupids bow briefly before leaning in to press the softest kiss to his lips.
“Is it going to be weird now?” He asked as you pulled away, his hands finding your waist to hold onto you with an innocent tilt of his head. You positioned yourself on top of him humming softly as you shook your head a little, your hand resting on his chest pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
“Doesn’t have to be. We can do this again if you want or we can…not. It’s whatever. We’ll still be friends and roommates.”
“I mean, yeah, but I don’t want us just fucking around without a title—I’m a pervert but a gentleman.”
You scrunched up your face but his words stuck to you, it’s not like everybody didn’t already think yall were together. So might as well?
You paused for a moment before shrugging your shoulders a little, resting your cheek on his chest feeling his hand tangle into your hair.
“Maybe we can go see a movie or something this weekend, if you want to.”
He massaged your scalp softly making you smile against his chest, your hand drawing small circles on his shoulder.
“I would like that, maybe I can touch you next time…”
You laughed into his chest, shaking your head a little bit with a small eye roll.
“You have two cameras?” You asked quietly as you sat on his bed watching him set up his phone, criss-crossing your legs as you played with his comforter biting the inside of your cheek anxiously. Anthony turned back towards you with a nod, before turning back to his camera smiling softly at his reflection pointing to you on the bed smiling softly at you.
“I’m gonna rearrange her guts chat.”
“Ant—” You gasped at him, brows knitted together with a tight laugh “don’t be so vulgar!” “Girl we’re fucking on camera, it’s already vulgar” You giggled as you nervously played with the end of your hair, your gut twisting a little when he crawled onto his bed sitting criss-cross in front of you resting his hands on your knees.
“This is a little weird, I know.”
“I’ve just never done something like this before.” You nearly whispered, the thoughts of him destroying your insides slightly spooking you. Unfortunately, it was too late to back down now.
“You’ve never had sex?
“No, you know I’ve had sex. Just never on camera.” You chuckled finally looking up at him with a nervous smile. He squeezed your knees comforting, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead smiling gently trying to make the room less tense. You admired Anthony—appreciative of the connection you all had…whatever it was. You could tell he was trying to comfort you, get you less camera shy but nothing could settle your nerves.
You were far from calm.
How could you be? You were about to film a porn with your friend so you could get some quick cash. The more you thought about it, the more gross you felt about it. You began fidgeting with his fingers sighing softly, looking down at your hands before biting the inside of your cheek.
“This is a little weird, I know.”
“Yeah. Yeah it is.” You laughed nervously looking back up at him, your chest tightening up when you saw his dimples appear.
“We can just…kiss for a while. Do you think that’ll make you feel better?”
You’d be lying if you didn’t think about kissing Ant. He had the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen. You found yourself staring at his lips frequently through out your study sessions with him, they always looked invitingly soft especially when he was smoking. In all honesty, you couldn’t wait to fuck Anthony, you just weren’t too sure about the filming part.
You nodded a little before looking over at the camera, but he used his fingertips to guide your face back to his quickly attaching your lips to his making you gasp softly, but quickly submitting to him.
Kissing Ant was just like you imagined. His lips were so soft, just like you thought they would be. He rested his hand on the back of your neck to keep you close, tilting his head slightly to the left to deepen the kiss. You relaxed a little letting your hands rest on his thighs with a soft hum, holding tightly onto the muscle as you slowly moved your lips against his. The kiss was slow, deliberate, it was so passionate you completely forgot you were kissing one of your friends.
You pulled away with a soft giggle looking down at your hands hearing him laugh softly leaning in to press his lips against the top of your head. “What’s so funny?” He laughed holding onto your arms smiling brightly as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours, smiling softly when you two locked eyes.
“You’re my homeboy, and we’re finna have sex.” You chuckled looking into his brown eyes watching him smile and turn away laughing sweetly. “You’re too cute.” He whispered pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, you preened at the affection smiling a little up at him with a stupid grin.
“Want to kiss a little more?” You nodded dumbly letting him push you on your back. your heart felt like it was gonna jump out your chest when he slotted himself between your legs. He fit almost perfectly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his body, he pressed his chest against yours with a small smile when he noticed the tinge of heat from your cheeks.
“You be blushing this hard with them lame ass niggas you be fucking?” He smirked teasingly making you scrunch your face up, turning away from him with a quiet giggle which was cut off with a subtle gasp when he pressed his lips to your neck. Your hands scattered everywhere as you felt his teeth graze over the sensitive part of your throat, a choked up sound leaving your lips when he sloppily kissed under your jaw. You blinked up at the ceiling, your walls clenching when his teeth sank into your skin.
You whimpered softly as he covered your neck in kisses and bruises. You were so turned on the camera was an afterthought at this point. You sounded just like the pornstar, you were attempting to be. Anthony was learning your body—and god he caught on fast. He pulled back with a soft pop, his plump lips shiny with spit. “Take this shit off.” He ordered pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, his hands holding tightly onto your hips. You nodded not even hesitating before peeling off your tank top placing it on the edge of his mattress, turning back towards him tangling your hands into his hair your blush intensifying.
“You okay?” He asked with a hand rubbing against your stomach, the other one holding your hand making you calm down a little. You nodded slowly looking into his eyes, “I’m okay”.
“Now, your turn.” You whispered pulling up his shirt softly with a quiet giggle, watching him smile down at you laughing a little. The man sat up, pulling his shirt over his head leaning over to put the black shirt on the edge of your bed with your own shirt. His body was beyond amazing, his dark skin glistening from the ring light he had. You skimmed your hands up and down his chest, running them up and down his torso to tease.
“You’re so cold.” You teased pinching his side making him giggle softly, flinching away as you laughed softly watching him lean back down to brush his nose against yours.
“That pussy gon warm me up?”
“Yes daddy.” You said looking up at him with a sly smile, watching his cheeks burn a little as he looked into your eyes smiling. “Daddy? You already so nasty for me” Anthony said in surprise. He pulled you up into his lap turning his head towards the camera trying not to smile as he rested his cheek on your cleavage. You looked at the screen tilting your head a little when you saw yourself, resting your cheek on top of his head pressing an absentminded kiss into his hair.
“You look so good on camera, baby.” Anthony whispered not moving his eyes away from the image of you two on screen. Your eyes intensely watched his hand skim up and down your back, drawing soft hearts on your warm skin smirking softly when your fingers tightened in his hair.
“Want to lay down for me, mama?” You nodded at his words, scooting back and out of his grasp to lay down on your back. You lifted your hand waiting for him to intertwine your fingers. It took a moment but he delivered, easily intertwining his fingers with yours as he leaned down to press his chest against yours. You wrapped your arm around his neck to press your lips to his, feeling him moan into your mouth as you lifted your hips press against his, grinding against the hard bulge in his boxers.
“Mmm, tell me what you want, pretty.” His hands sliding up your legs, a small smirk on his lips as you bit back a moan looking up at him
“I want you to touch me.” You dragged a nail down his chest, a red line forming in its wake before you dipped your fingers into his boxers, tilting your head down at your fingers, “and I want to touch you.” He chuckled gruffly as he watched your lips move with each word. You inhaled sharply when you felt him rub your clit through the wet fabric of your panties, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes to watch your reaction.
Ant groaned softly at how wet you were. He silently grabbed your wrist, pulling your fingers out of his underwear to place it over your dripping core making you whine loudly. “You feel that shit? You feel how wet I make you? You know you been wanted this shit” You closed your eyes tightly feeling your cheeks burn tightly at how melodic his voice was. He leaned down to scatter kisses along your jaw before taking it in his hand making you look at him, your mouth slightly ajar and soft sounds leaving your lips as he quickened his thick fingers against your clit.
“Come on, baby.” He groaned sitting up and pulling his hand from your underwear, shoving the drenched digits in your mouth making you squeak softly. You eagerly swirled your tongue around his fingers, tasting some of your arousal making you moan softly as he pulled you up and manhandled you till you were sitting up between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.
Ant pressed his fingers against the palette of your tongue for a moment before pulling them out, wiping them on your thigh before forcefully spreading your legs wide for the camera pressing his cheek against the side of your head as his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. “Keep your legs just like that, ma.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head humming softly into your hair as his hand fell back between your legs, rubbing you through your panties once again.
You bit your fingers softly at the barely there but maddening feeling between your legs. Your other hand held onto his forearm, your hips shyly rutting into his hand making him chuckle softly his breath tickling your neck. “You might as well let me keep these, they ruined baby” He hummed softly as he pressed to fingers against your clothed core, smirking when you bit your thumb a little harder.
“You want daddy to take them off? All you have to do is ask.”
You nodded quickly finally turning your head to look up at him, your gut twisting and turning as you tried to focus on forming coherent words.
“Please take them off.” You whined, your back arching when you felt the rough fabric rub against your clit faster holding tightly onto his arm with a soft whimper. Anthony hummed holding a little tighter onto your waist for a moment before moving to take your underwear off with a bite of his lip.
“Fuck, you so gorgeous y/n, goddamn.” He whispered to what seemed like himself as he ran a hand from your exposed hip down your smooth thigh. Your whole body got warm at that, a rose pigment appearing on your cheeks that made your throat tighten a little bit.
“You okay, baby?”
You blinked a few times before turning your head up to look at him with a small nod. His lips attaching to your neck when your head fell back on his shoulder, his finger dragging down to press against your needy hole groaning softly at how wet you were.
“Mm look at this shit” He whispered as he sunk one finger into you moaning quietly at how tight and warm your pussy was. Your brows knitting together at the intrusion, huffing a little after a minute deeming one finger not enough. You shook your head with shaky breath, shoving his hand out of you to adjust your position to lay on your back once more. He adjusted your position a little, so you were in view of the camera before crawling between your legs once again.
It took only second for you two to be kissing again, your fingers tangling into his soft locks with a deep breath. He pushed two fingers into you making you whimper into his mouth, digging your nails into his bicep. You knew Anthony was sexy, but God seeing it in action was different.
“Listen how wet you are, mama. Oh my god.” He groaned kissing your lips delicately, his lips parting when you let out sharp whine at how his fingers curled perfectly inside you. His fingers fucked into you gently yet deeply making your back arch up into him, your eyes locking with his dark hues and you couldn’t look away.
“Let daddy see you touch yourself.” He ordered, his fingers beginning to fuck harder into you. Your lips tightly pressed together, shaking your head quickly as your breathing picked up a little bit. You knew your body well enough to know when you were about to cum, and it was embarrassing how fast you were about to cum just from his fingers. Adding your own would only make it quicker
“Aw, why not, baby? You gon cum?” You moaned loudly at how he talked to you in an almost patronizing way, dumbing easy things down for you in an almost belittling fashion, it was nothing like you ever had before. You were beyond turned on and his nasty whispers were making it worse.You managed to nod your head against his, watching him nod with faux sympathy.
“My pussy so sensitive, Ian even fucked you yet I’m knowing you finna go crazy.”
“Can you–Can you fuck me daddy? I want it so bad, Ant.” That seemed to only make him move his fingers harder, curling them deep inside you as he bit his bottom lip. “I’m not done” He told you his eyes never leaving your face, the way your face pinched together made his boxers even tighter. Your moans increased in pitch, your head falling back on his mattress with a moan making his jaw drop slightly. You threw all your self restraint out the window and let go of his arm to rub your clit sloppily, desperate to just get off already which made the boy above you moan.
“That’s right, baby. Cum on my fingers so you can get on this dick.”
That was it. You let yourself go, your eyes rolling back with a broken barely there cry. His fingers fucked you into oversensitivity, you tried to squirm away from him with a pathetic whine. “N-No more.” You turned your face away from him feeling him press his lips against your cheek, his fingers slowing down finally before fully pulling his fingers out of you. You whimpered softly, your limbs feeling like deadweights when you tried to wrap yourself around him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before pressing his forehead against yours humming softly against your lips humming softly.
You two laid there for a minute. His hand running though your hair, you rested a hand on his back, his nose rubbing against your cheek as he waited for you to gather yourself.
“Can I give you head.” You whispered into his hair making him groan softly against your skin.
“Can you take it?” He asked sincerely, his hand resting on the back of your neck. You shook your head with a deep breath, your cheeks glowing softly. “I can try...” You explained quietly, your eyes shutting as you weakly pushed him back with a soft huff. Anthony sat up with a small chuckle, reaching over on the bedside table to grab one of his phones smirking softly.
“How many phones do you have?” You asked with a small giggle, crawling between his legs as he sat up against his headboard. He smiled softly at his screen looking up at him chuckling a bit, running a hand through your hair as you undid his jeans. “I have about 3 for filming and just one for everyday use.” He explained making you nod a little as you pulled his boxers down to his knees with a soft grunt, he chuckled softly at your little huff looking up at you.
You gasped at his size, it was no surprise he was huge— but this big? You were in for something.
You wrapped your fingers around his dick through his boxers, gasping quietly at how thick he was. “Oh my god, I need this dick inside me.” You said making his jaw clench and his dick twitch. You smiled watching his reaction, maybe, you were playing it up for the camera little bit but it was all in good fun, right?
“Should I look in the camera while I do it?” You asked as you wrapped your hand around his dick, looking up past the camera with doe eyes and a small head tilt. He shook his head, his brows pinching together in a slightly bothered look.
“No. It feels too porny when you do that.” You nodded in understanding batting your lashes up at him, he ran a hand through your dark hair biting his bottom lip as you wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, your tongue teasing his slit for a moment before ducking down to lazily suckle on his dick. He groaned loudly, holding tightly onto your locks pushing you further down tilting his head a little.
You let out a small whimper, digging your nails into his thigh as you tried to open your jaw further so you could take more of him. “You’re doing so good bae” he groaned, your hair buried in his hands as he basically used your mouth. “Look so pretty sucking daddy dick, I know you needed this.” Anthony rambled on as he scratched up your throat with his dick, talking himself through his nut.
🎞️: the olympics brought you closer. now a championship party brings everything to a head
⚠️: mfm threesome, jealousy, poly tension,language, praise + degradation, light possessiveness, double penetration, exhibition hints, deep affection, competitive men being messy
Nobody ever talks about how lonely the Olympics can be.
The lights, the press, the medals—yeah, it’s loud. But the nights? When you’re in some sterile dorm in a foreign city and your body’s aching in places you didn’t know existed, and the only people you can be real with are the ones going through it too?
That’s when you get close. Real close. To your teammates, to your health team, to other athletes.
That’s how it started with the three of you. Long-ass nights, half-dressed in compression shorts and tank tops, sitting on tile floors with Gatorade bottles and stories you shouldn’t’ve told. You were on the national soccer team. On a historical run, surrounded by vets from all over the world. You were young, hungry, and ready to win—just like Ant and Ty.
Tyrese was the one who made you laugh.
Anthony was the one who made you quiet.
It was harmless at first. The three of you did everything together. Walked markets in Harajuku. Snuck mochi into dorms. Stole time between practices. When you’d walk between them, they’d both tilt inward like they were protecting you from the world. Tyrese made playlists for your commutes. Ant always carried your charger in his bag just in case.
One night, after some exhibition match, Tyrese told a story that had you doubled over on the couch, cheeks hot from laughing. You didn’t notice Ant staring at you until you wiped your eyes and caught him mid-glance. He looked away so fast it made your stomach flip.
He never said anything.
But from then on, the air felt different when he was near you. Quieter. Charged.
You loved the 360 Ant did when he was around you—the whole “crashout” persona gone. He was just him. It’s what made you fall for him.
But you also noticed the way Tyrese started sitting closer, letting his thigh touch yours, offering his hoodie before you even said you were cold. He wasn’t subtle. He never was.
Tyrese was loud about the way he liked you—mentioning you in interviews, posting up with you on Instagram. Maybe that’s what made you really fall for him.
So when he kissed you after that last game—soft, certain, in the shadow of the locker room—you didn’t stop him. Of course Anthony saw it happen from across the hallway and ducked his head like it hurt to look. You pretended you didn’t see him.
But you did.
A year and some change later, you and Tyrese were still together. No strangers to winning. You were signed to Barcelona, predicted to go to the Champions League once again. Tyrese led his team to their first championship. Life was beyond good for you two.
The party wasn’t wild—just a few teammates, a couple cousins, the people who’d been down since high school. The ones who knew the win felt too big to celebrate with strangers.
Your shared house still smelled like fresh flowers and tequila. You were barefoot, moving between the kitchen and the back patio with a champagne flute you’d barely touched. Tyrese kept pulling you into side hugs like he couldn’t believe you were real. Like he had to keep checking that the championship ring wasn’t a dream—and neither were you.
Then Ant showed up.
You knew he was coming—Ty had mentioned it in passing—but it still felt like a breath caught in your throat.
He wore all black. Of course he did. Black tee, black joggers, clean shoes. Silver chain catching the light. His eyes flicked to you when he walked in, and he smiled a little, but didn’t come over.
The music was louder in the kitchen, bass thumping low under people’s laughter and the sizzle of oil on the stove. Tyrese stood near the counter, pouring tequila into two red cups. He didn’t bother with a chaser. Neither did Anthony.
“Good looks,” Anthony muttered, taking the cup and leaning against the fridge. “Your spot always got the good shit.”
“‘Cause I don’t let everybody drink here,” Tyrese said with a grin, lifting his cup in a half-toast. “I gotta have an idea of where yo lips been.”
They drank. Anthony swallowed his slow, eyes roaming the living room through the open archway where you were laughing with a few other folks—head tilted back, your waist beads catching a sliver of light when you moved just right.
“On some real shit…”
“Yo.”
“What.”
“She ever call you ‘Ant’ in that voice?”
Anthony raised his brow over the rim of his cup, squinting like Tyrese just asked him something crazy. “What voice?”
“You know that voice,” Tyrese said, grinning, shoulders bouncing like he already knew he was being messy. “That little raspy-ass one she use when she want somethin’?”
Anthony blinked, then looked away—like he didn’t wanna confirm. Like his silence wasn’t loud as hell.
“Oh yeah,” Tyrese said, smirking as he poured another shot. “She be doin’ that shit to you too, huh.”
“Man, shut up.”
“Nah, you shut up.” He slid him the shot and leaned on the counter with a cocky tilt. “I knew somethin’ was up in Tokyo. You used to look at her like she had gold on her ass.”
Anthony snorted. “And you used to jump up every time she needed help openin’ a water bottle.”
“‘Cause I’m a gentleman,” Tyrese deadpanned. “You was sittin’ over there rock hard behind a Gatorade towel.”
Anthony shook his head, laughing into his drink. “Boy, you lucky you moved fast.”
“Nah, you lucky I’m generous.”
That made Anthony pause. He gave him a side-eye. “Generous how?”
Tyrese sipped, eyes low. “You want her bad as me. We could just… figure somethin’ out.”
“You talkin’ ‘bout a poly shit again?” Anthony squinted. “You sound like you tryna do a group project with my dick involved. I don’t like that.”
Tyrese cracked up, leaning forward. “Nigga, shut up! I’m just sayin’, she loves you too. Don’t act like you never felt that shit.”
Anthony looked away for a beat, jaw flexin’. “She ain’t say it.”
“She ain’t gotta. That girl blush when you in the room. Get extra soft with you. She don’t do that shit with me.”
“So what you tryna say?”
“I’m sayin’ maybe she ain’t gotta choose.”
Anthony scoffed. “You think that’s how that work? You gon’ be cool with me puttin’ it down?”
“Nigga, please,” Tyrese said. “I bet you I fuck her better.”
Anthony choked on his drink. For real this time. Turned half away, coughing, hand on his chest.
“Oh nah. You got me fucked up,” he rasped, wiping his mouth. “You talkin’ crazy now.”
“Am I lyin’, though?”
Anthony stepped forward, cup dangling from his fingers. “You think just ‘cause you be talkin’ sweet, you the only one who know what she like?”
“I know she like my pace,” Tyrese said, smooth. “You the type to rush.”
Anthony’s grin turned wolfish. “Nah, I’m the type to finish shit.”
They stood there for a second, too quiet for it to still be funny. Both of them lookin’ just a little too serious. Then Tyrese broke first, laughing like he couldn’t help it.
“You really tight, huh.”
Anthony smirked. “I just don’t like losin’, that’s all.”
“If that was true we woulda saw yall
in the finals but—.” Tyrese looked toward the living room, where you were still out of earshot, smiling at something somebody said. “But if this really happen… that means we both gotta bring it.”
Anthony followed his eyes, then took another sip, letting the burn ride out.
“Just don’t get mad when she start screamin’ my name louder,” he muttered.
“Nigga, please.”
You found them both outside a little while later—leaning on opposite sides of the back fence like they’d just finished arguing or plotting something. The air smelled like heat, cologne, and bad decisions. Tyrese beckoned you over with two fingers and a smirk.
“You good, baby?” he asked, sliding a hand to your waist the second you got close.
You nodded, but your eyes were already drifting to Anthony, who still hadn’t said a word. His gaze dipped from your waist beads to your mouth, then flicked back up like he hadn’t just traced every inch of you with his eyes.
Tyrese noticed.
“Tell her man,” he said, licking his lips like he was about to say something reckless. “Tell her what we was talkin’ ‘bout.”
Anthony tilted his head. “You full of shit”
“Hell nah, you must be scared now?”
Anthony exhaled slow through his nose, then looked at you. Dead in your face. “We wanna fuck you.”
The way your heart jumped made your knees soften. You blinked.
“Both of us,” Tyrese added, voice low, hand gripping your hip a little tighter. “Together. Same time.”
You didn’t say anything. Not with your mouth, anyway. But the way your breath caught and your thighs pressed together? That was enough.
Sure, you’d thought about it but to actually do it was almost insane to you. Tyrese was the love of your life, attraction to men seemed almost impossible when you all got together. Although, Anthony was always the exception. You bit your lip any time he did a new photoshoot, or posted a thirst trap. It was a fantasy that you never fed into. Tyrese wasn’t exactly vanilla but average man doesn’t take well to his woman desiring to be shared.
Anthony came up behind you while Tyrese kissed your neck. His voice was deeper, more commanding than you remembered. “Don’t run now. You gon’ take both of us like you was made for it.”
Tyrese lifted your dress without asking, fingers dipping and dragging into your core. “You wet already. That shit turn you on, huh?”
You nodded, dizzy, caught between both of them. Anthony’s hands were rougher, more impatient—gripping your ass, tugging your panties down like he needed you now.
“Come inside,” Tyrese whispered. “Before we fuck around and bend you over this damn patio table.”
You barely made it to the bedroom.
They didn’t waste time. Tyrese kissed you like he was making up for every moment he had to share you. Anthony kissed you like he hated the fact that he had to wait this long.
You ended up flat on your back, Tyrese between your legs, Anthony holding your face so you couldn’t look away from him.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Anthony murmured. “You gon’ let us ruin you?”
Tyrese groaned from between your thighs. “She already lettin’ me. This pussy too good to share, bro.”
Anthony scoffed. “Then why you sharing?”
You moaned when Tyrese sucked your clit like he was trying to prove something. And he was. So was Anthony—pulling his sweats down, stroking himself while he watched you fall apart.
“You close already?” Anthony taunted. “He eatin’ it that good?”
Your only answer was a high, broken sound.
“She be fakin’ that shit with you?” he asked Tyrese, breathless.
Tyrese shook his head, voice muffled. “Nah, she real with it—my baby so sensitive.”
Anthony smirked. “Bet. Move.”
Tyrese gave him a look like he didn’t want to, but backed up anyway, kissing the inside of your thigh before sliding up next to you.
“You good?” he whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek. “You want this?”
You nodded so hard it made both of them laugh.
Anthony lined himself up slow. “Keep your eyes open.”
When he slid in, your whole body arched. Not just from the stretch, but from the way both their hands found your skin at the same time—one on your throat, one holding your knee open.
“That’s it,” Tyrese whispered, kissing your temple. “You takin’ him so good.”
Anthony cursed under his breath. “Tight as fuck, can’t wait to feel you cumming on me.”
“She is,” Tyrese murmured. “She be such a mess when she cums too,”
You let out a choked laugh, tears welling. “Y’all are so—”
“Shhh.” Anthony started thrusting deeper. “You talk too much.”
Tyrese moved behind you, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his fingers while Anthony fucked into you harder. You were nothing but moans and gasps now—caught in a rhythm you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.
“Look at you,” Anthony muttered. “All that attitude, and now you dumb off dick.”
“She love this shit,” Tyrese said. “Been told me she wanted both of us a year ago.”
“You lyin’,” Anthony hissed.
“Ask her,” he said, grinning. Anthony leaned down, kissed your cheek, then your mouth. “That true, mama? You been wantin’ this?”
You nodded, panting. “Yes. Fuck—yes, please.”
He groaned deep in his chest. “Yeah, you been plotting on this dick.”
Tyrese bit your shoulder, laughing low. “She not goin’ nowhere after this.”
“You better not,” Anthony growled, gripping your waist. “You mine now. Ours.”
You came hard, shuddering between them. Tyrese caught your face in his hands while Anthony kept fucking you through it.
“Come on,” he whispered. “You can give us another one. Be good for us.”
Anthony grunted, close. “She ‘bout to make me nut up in this shit.”
“Do it,” Tyrese said, voice hoarse. “Fill her up, you gotta make up for lost time”
“Fuck,” you moaned, body going limp.
They both came for you—one after the other. Anthony first, rough and deep, hissing between his teeth like the feeling stole his breath. Tyrese kissed your lips while he came against your stomach, whispering how pretty you looked when you took it.
You lay there for a while, panting, sticky, ruined. One head on your chest. One arm slung across your thigh.
You were the quiet between two storms. The softness in the middle of something wild.
And the only thing louder than your heartbeat was the sound of Tyrese laughing, low and smug.
Warnings: Age gap dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy themes, mild cursing, slow-burn tension, hints at Dom/brat dynamic forming.
synopsis~ When you’re down on your luck, you’re desperate to do anything to get back on your feet. Even if that means sneaking around with everyone’s favorite basketball player.
Word count: ~4,200+ words
“Ballin' ain't an issue for me, I'll make a hundred stacks right back next week”
You were in trouble. Deep, suffocating, nightmare financial trouble. You fell into one of those pyramid schemes and found your bank account in the negative thousands. As a result your parents officially cut you off.
They claimed they had spoiled you too much and it was time for them to spend their money on just them. You couldn’t cry too much, you were incredibly well taken care of, your tuition was paid for, you still had your car, they paid for your apartment deposit. Not to mention they left a good sum in your savings but that wasn’t even accessible till your 22nd birthday. In theory you were set up but in practice not so much. Going from living without worry as a college student to basically being the average broke college student shook you to the core.
On the bright side you were halfway done with college: honors program, fantastic GPA, sorority girl — but trying to fill out scholarship applications right in the middle of the semester and expecting something worthwhile? Delusion.
Full rides were just too hard to find not to mention rent, food, and clothes.
The school loved you. Professors adored you. But none of that love translated into any material items. Tuition for a double major would eat through your savings like fire, if you had access to it. Loans scared you half to death and deadlines loomed.
You’d think you’d get a job, but working just wasn’t for you. Plus, your experiences weren’t exactly the best, to say the least. Multiple strings of fast food jobs, break downs in retail, you’d done it all. You were convinced you wouldn’t be satisfied till you had your “big girl job”. The long hours at some campus café or retail store, grinding for just above minimum wage, never felt worth it.
So you started looking for other arrangements. Findom felt too sad, content was just too much work, so you settled on being a sugar baby.
Something you knew almost nothing about, but your roommate Lia always seemed to have a handle on it. You’d seen the gifts, the dinners, the mysterious deposits. But asking her felt awkward. You didn’t even know how to begin.
“Yo, Li,” you muttered from across the room one night, laptop open but untouched. Lia shifted in her bed, eyes rolling.
“What?” she asked flatly, thumbs still tapping at her phone.
“I, uh… I need to make some extra money.”
She sat up, now fully interested. “Oh, are we finally having this conversation?”
You blinked. “I mean, maybe. How do you even… start?”
She sighed like it was obvious. “Make a profile on twitter. Maybe discord too. and if they ask too many questions, block ‘em.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because in a way it is, you just gotta be P about it.” She tossed a pillow at your head; you dodged it barely. “Don’t send nudes or fuck right away and you’ll be fine. If you wanna do meets, stay protected” she made a gun motion with her hands.
You hesitated, then blurted out, “If you have all this money from your daddies—” you cringed at your own words— “why do you still live here with me and not in your own shit?”
Lia shrugged. “Why not ” She flopped back down, scrolling again.
After she drifted off to sleep, you did what she said. Profile on one site. Then another. Messages rolled in within seconds, but none of them were interesting. Old, white, creepy. You scrolled and scrolled until a request popped up on your screen.
@helak.11
The profile pic was beyond blurry all you could see was a man in a hoodie. You frowned, from what you could see he was a bit too young to be a sugar daddy. You figured it was a scam but curiosity won, you liked trolling them anyways.
You clicked accept.
hey gorgeous, hry queen?
You stared at the message. Damn, he was quick.
Hii, i’m good just tired from class nd what not you? you typed back, instantly regretting it.
You clicked his profile again. No full name, but something about his face tugged at you. You couldn’t place it right away. He had plenty of gym pictures, off guards, anything that didn’t show his face. ‘probably has a wife’ you thought to yourself, shrugging it off.
he replied almost immediately.
All is well i can’t complain, doing my usual workouts
but u seem like you’re up late too lil lady Couldn’t sleep?
You bit your lip, typing back. Yeah. College and stress go hand in hand
What are you studying?
And just like that, the conversation stretched. From majors to music to food, then back to money. You were careful and guarded, but he had this calm way of talking that didn’t feel like the usual scams you heard of. he didn’t push for anything , didn’t mention much at first. He just… talked.
Hours slipped by. Midnight became two, then four. By sunrise, you’d been messaging for nearly six hours straight.
Somewhere between playlists and favorite cities, he finally asked, What do you actually want from this?
You hesitated. Your fingers hovered. Honestly? I don’t even know. I’m new to this.
Good, he typed. So am I.
That made you blink. You?
Yeah. I’m not looking for someone to… you know. Just… someone who gets it.
Someone who’s cool with my schedule, me traveling, and my privacy.
You stared at his words. Something about the privacy line stuck out. He definitely had to be married.
You’re not married are you? you typed half-joking.
Not at all. not my thing 😂
you half smiled and drifted off to sleep, your phone still warm in your hand.
By noon, you woke up groggy. Your phone buzzed with a new message.
lunch today? Somewhere nice. i know u tired of that dining hall food
Your stomach flipped, things were moving a bit faster than you expected. You weren’t exactly prepared quite yet, sure texting was easy. But you weren’t sure if it’d translate to real life.
You don’t even know what I look like in person.
I’m going to have to see you irl eventually.
I like your vibe. You like mine, let’s just be grown and move forward.
I’ll send you a band if you’re nervous.
He sent a smile emoji, nothing else. You tried to calm your anxiety, the thoughts of you embarrassing yourself and him potentially being a murderer ran through your mind. You had to remind yourself that this is exactly what you signed up for. Besides it was just lunch.
Suddenly your apple cash balance increased in a way you’d never seen before even from your parents.
You typed back. Okay i’ll c u at 2:30 :)
okay love i’ll be in a brown hoodie
The restaurant was nicer than anywhere you’d been in months. High ceilings, muted lighting, velvet booths. You walked in, clutching your purse tighter than usual.
And then you saw him in a really cute brown hoodie you knew you’d steal. You stared for a bit as you got closer, he wasn’t just anybody he was Kyrie Irving. The man plastered on billboards, in the airport, sneaker commercials, and your exes favorite basketball player.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You didn’t wanna seem freaked out but this wasn’t something little to you. ‘I’d rather him be married than a fucking nba player.’ Thoughts of your name plastered on blogs, and twitter made you almost gag.
Maybe he just really is lonely?You thought as you made your way over to him, grasping for some slither of optimism.
Kyrie stood when you approached. “Hey beautiful,” he said, voice low and smooth.
You swallowed. “Hey...”
He gestured for you to sit. The air between you hummed with nerves. His fingers rapped on the table awkwardly, he almost seemed just as nervous as you.
“I didn’t want to do this online,” he said, leaning slightly forward. “I like real conversations.”
“That’s… fair.” You adjusted your napkin, trying to keep your cool.
He smiled faintly. “You recognize me?”
“Kind of hard not to, unless I lived under a rock”
“Not a fan?”
“I mean, I know who you are,” you said carefully. “I’m just not gonna freak out about it.”
“Good,” he said softly, almost relieved “Do you even know what team I play for?”
You laughed, something in you started to relax. “Boy— we here in Dallas ain’t we?”
“I mean some people don’t know ball at all, i’m just trying see how much you know” He laughed, his eyes locking in with yours as his laughter died down.
A waiter approached, clearly flustered, and took your orders. Kyrie ordered for you too, but asked first, casual.
“So,” he said finally. “Here’s the deal, I’m not here to buy anyone. I’m not here to rush you. I just… I’m busy. Lonely sometimes. I want someone around who’s cool with it being on my terms. But it’s still about you.”
You blinked at him. “That’s… honest.”
He slid a discreet folder across the table. “Basic contract. Just privacy, loyalty, some boundaries. Of course an NDA. Look it over. No pressure.”
You flipped through it. It wasn’t insane. No sex clause. No weird rules. Just clear lines. You were thoroughly surprised, you were sure athletes were into way weirder shit. You could’ve sworn you saw tweets about all of them being porn addicts.
“And the money?” you asked quietly, attempting to be assertive”
“Don’t let a man throw out numbers first, you gotta learn how to play the game my love”he said, a tiny smile. “You tell me what you need.”
That floored you. You’d expected some cliché pitch. Instead he was patient.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “I wasn’t expecting to even get this far.”
He nodded. “Me neither, start small then. We can figure it out as we go. I’ve never done this before either”
You exhaled slowly. The tension eased more and more.
He leaned back, finally looking at you fully. “You’re even prettier in person,” he said, voice low.
Your cheeks heated. “You’re… taller in person.”
He laughed soft and warm. The table between you felt a little less like a negotiation and a little more like a first date.
As lunch went on, it wasn’t strictly business. He asked about your classes, your hometown, your sorority. He talked about traveling, about how quiet hotel rooms felt after games. His tone was calm but laced with something heavier, a loneliness he never outright said but you could feel.
By the time dessert came, you weren’t even thinking about the money anymore. You were just…talking.
He finally said, “I’ll transfer something to help with tuition. Nothing crazy. Just so you can breathe. We’ll talk numbers later.”
Your heart thudded. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. I got all this wealth and if I can help you out and fix my loneliness issue…that’s good with me.”
He handed you a black Amex card. Your jaw almost dropped, the only other man doing anything close was your father. The familiar weight of it in your hand felt heavier than it should’ve.
“I’ve got to head to practice,” he said, standing. “But get whatever you want today. I’ll call you tonight?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
He leaned down, brushed a kiss against your cheek. The room seemed to watch but he didn’t care. He left like a quiet storm, pulling a hoodie up, slipping out the back.
You sat there, phone buzzing with a notification: a modest deposit. Enough to cover a month’s rent and books,
You looked at the card again, heart racing. You had no idea what you were stepping into.
started as a “bad idea” high school situationship that everyone but you saw coming.
“yall are gonna end up together”, “yall know yal like each other” 24/7 365 since the second week of freshman year when he tried to neck respect you.
he was loud, cocky, funny, and made it his mission to bother you every day.
you were a bit reserved, academically involved and honestly should have been nowhere near anthony edwards
but there was just a certain je ne sais quoi about him hiding under all the jokes that you couldn’t resist
anthony wasn’t your first, but he was the first to teach you what pleasure really was
he wanted to meet to “study” for physics, oh how young and naive you were then.
one study date turned into everyday after school and twice on weekends
as time progressed there was still no label on now a several year situationship
it was senior year and ant decided to stay local and play ball but you had bigger dreams.
he begged you stay, but why stay for a nigga who won’t even ask you to be his girlfriend?
you left for DC for school, full ride to your dream school and of course he played victim:
“she left me for them D.C. niggas, man. whole time I put her on game.”
you eventually got a boyfriend out there, and every break you came home, you avoided Ant like the plague.
you found yourself a nice college boy who actually had the courage to ask you out, why mess it up?
you knew yourself better than anyone, if anthony got you alone. your college romance was over.
you’d always hear about him talking shit, lord knows he loved to chat, telling people, “she still mine, she just having her fun’.”
a new years party at your cousins house, he finally cornered you in the kitchen tipsily whispering in your ear.“you wanna see if my pussy remember me?”and that was it.
10 months later, your son was born
when you were pregnant, he treated you like absolute royalty.
drove you everywhere, carried all the bags, ran to every craving request. “you want wings and cookies at 2am? ok greedy but i’ll get it”
rubbed your feet even when he was tired after games.
bragged about you to literally everyone. you couldn’t walk through a store without him pointing at your belly.
first time you saw Ant cry was when your son was born. he was holding him, trying to play tough, then tears started running and he turned away real quick.
when your PPD hit, he stepped up in ways that made you realize he was no longer the 15 year old ant that made the chem teacher cry, he was a man. your man.
waking up for late-night bottles, rubbing your back when you cried, sitting in silence with you just so you wouldn’t feel alone.
he stresses you out, but he’s never been absent. he showed up for every appointment even if y’all weren’t speaking.
even when y’all fight, it always circles back to yall not wanting you allls son to live in a broken home. “we gon’ do better. i’m not gon’ let him feel how we felt.”
100% convinced his son is his mini-me.
(he definitely looks like you more than anything)
calls him his “twin” every five minutes.
puts him in full fits — Jordans, Amiri jeans, baby-sized chains.
carries him everywhere: practice, errands, the barbershop. your son has more of a social life than you.
strict for show, soft in practice. will yell “bedtime!” then you catch them up at midnight watching Bluey eating snacks.
swears he’s not spoiling him but can’t say no.
he balances NBA life and dad life the best he can. even when he’s on the road, he’s FaceTiming you
“put my boy on the phone, let dada see him.”
mind you, he’s 6 weeks old and can’t talk
makes sure y’all are good financially. rent, cars, your tuition — handled. he doesn’t even make you ask.
buys you things just because, remembers little details, like a necklace you mentioned once months ago.
calls you before games for good luck. sometimes just wants to hear you cuss him out — swears it makes him play better.
y’all are toxic but its complicated! one week y’all are playing house, the next you’re blocking his number.
fights never last long because one of y’all caves, and it’s usually him. “man, stop playing with me. I ain’t going nowhere.”
knows you could leave if you wanted to. and that’s what keeps him on his best behavior (sometimes).
at his core though, he’s tender with you in ways he doesn’t even realize.
it’s a reason y’all got a baby. that man is nasty.
always pulling you back in after fights with the way he touches you.
he’s a soft lover but with a disrespectful mouth makes you beg, say his name, makes you admit you need him, and you do. so very badly.
He’ll drag it out until you’re shaking, and laugh at how you jerk and squeal with every touch.
loves to keep you on edge, whispering stuff just to watch you squirm.
calls you names in bed that he would never use outside.
You were sick. Not cute lil sneeze sick, not sniffles and tea sick, but the kind of sick that made your body ache in places you didn’t even know could hurt. Your head was splitting, your throat bloody raw, and your nose wouldn’t let you breathe for more than three seconds at a time. The flu had you incredibly down bad.
And worse than that—you hated feeling alone when you were this way.
Your boyfriend Stephon had been working on his laptop in the living room all afternoon, earbuds in, trying to catch up on film and messages from his team. You’d already called him into the bedroom more times than you could count, and even though you knew you were pushing it, you couldn’t help it.
“Steph…” Your voice came out weak, half-whine, half-plea.
A beat later, you heard the scrape of his chair against the floor and his footsteps. He appeared in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame, laptop tucked under his arm. His expression was flat but familiar, you knew that look all too well. He was tired, but not enough to actually get mad at you.
“That’s the fourth time in, what… ten minutes?” he said, voice low, a little amused. “What you need now?”
You sniffled, clutching your blanket tighter around yourself. “Just… come lay down with me. Please.”
He shook his head profusely, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Girl don’t nobody wanna lay down with sicky.”
You frowned, instantly guilty. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I asked.” You rolled over to face the wall, hoping he’d just go back to his film.
Instead, the bed dipped under his weight. You felt the heat of him sitting behind you, then his hand brushed across your forehead, pushing the damp strands of hair out of your face. His touch was cool compared to your fevered skin.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered. “You know I’m not leaving you like this.”
You peeked back at him. His laptop was already on the nightstand, forgotten. “What happened to not wanting to laying down with ‘sicky’”
“I don’t,” he said simply. “But I want you straight more than that. So.” He pulled the blanket up around your shoulders, tucking you in like you were liable to slide off the bed. “You hot or cold?”
“Cold,” you admitted, even though you were already wrapped in half the blankets in the apartment, and sweating like crazy.
He clicked his tongue, stood up, and came back with the hoodie he’d left draped on the back of a chair. He helped you slide your arms into it carefully, tugging the hood up over your head when you shivered.
“There,” he said, settling back down. “Now stop acting like you freezing in the middle of August.”
The smell of him, his laundry detergent and something warmer, the faint scent of his cologne was comforting. You snuggled into it instantly. “Thanks.”
“Mhm.” He leaned back against the headboard, opening his laptop again, but when you shifted around restlessly, he sighed and closed it. “Y/N, you really not gon’ let me get nothing done, bruh?”
You looked up at him, sheepish. “…i’m just trying to get comfortable”
He chuckled, low and quiet, shaking his head. “You really something else.” He patted his lap. “C’mere mama, stop all that moving around.”
It took effort, but you scooted over and curled up with your head against his thigh. His hand found the back of your head automatically, slow strokes through your hair.
“You straight?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, eyes already heavy.
For a while, the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing. His phone buzzed a few times, but he ignored it, thumb still dragging absent circles against your scalp. Every so often, he adjusted the blanket when you kicked it off or tucked it tighter when you shivered.
But no matter how comfortable you got, your brain wouldn’t shut off. Your body was exhausted, but your thoughts kept spinning. You shifted again, huffing. “I can’t sleep.”
“I noticed,” he said, dry but not unkind. He adjusted, sliding down until he was lying beside you. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you against his chest. “Alright, relax. Breathe.”
You tried, pressing your face into his hoodie. But after a few minutes, you groaned softly. “It’s not working.”
He kissed the top of your head, brief and warm. “You want me to talk to you?”
You tilted your head up at him. “Talk to me?”
“Yeah,” he said like it was obvious. “When I can’t sleep, I just listen to somebody else until I knock.”
You thought about it. “…What would you even talk about?”
He shrugged, his lips brushing against your hair. “Shit, anything. Don’t matter. You just need my voice in your ear, right?”
You gave a weak laugh. “That sounds freaky and cocky as fuck.”
“Girl ew,” he murmured. “That’s just you.”
So he talked. About random stuff—nothing deep, nothing rehearsed. A story about his teammates getting on each other on the plane. How he almost missed the bus in college once and the whole team made fun of him for. The kind of little things that didn’t matter but seemed to calm you anyways.
His voice was always comforting though you’d never admit that, whether he was talking you through a nut or explaining film he had to study.
You were absolutely enamored by him, everything about him: from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Not even your mother would dare to jump in the bed with you when you were sick like this. You loved the way he loved you, never nonchalant but calmly yearning for you. Each word pulled you closer to sleep, your body sinking heavier against him.
“You listening?” he asked after a while.
You hummed, barely awake.
“Good. Don’t make me tell the story twice.”
You smiled faintly against his chest, your eyelids finally too heavy to fight. The last thing you felt was the slow drag of his palm over your back and the quiet press of his lips against your forehead.
