You never expected college to be this… chaotic. The campus is alive with energy, students rushing between classes, cafés buzzing with laughter, and the faint hum of music drifting from the dorms. You, however, have always been a little more sunshine than storm—bubbly, bright, quick to giggle at the smallest things, and embarrassingly easy to fluster. Life for you has always been about color, about lighthearted moments and infectious enthusiasm. Until Riki.

He’s impossible. Toxic, magnetic, infuriating, and terrifyingly alluring all at once. With his smirk that borders on cruel and eyes that seem to see exactly what he wants in you—sometimes your excitement, sometimes your hesitation—he has a way of breaking you down while somehow making it feel like a thrill. Every conversation with him is a battlefield, every glance a test. You want to hate him, and sometimes you do—but then he leans in too close in the library, or finds a way to corner you in the quiet of a late-night café, and suddenly your heart betrays you.

Classes, parties, late-night study sessions—they’re all arenas for tension. You feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a beat too long when you laugh, in the teasing brush of his hand “accidentally” catching yours, in the way he challenges every idea you have with a sharp, seductive edge. You’re constantly on high alert, caught between flustered defensiveness and an unexpected, dizzying pull toward him.

He thrives on control, on seeing you react, on testing boundaries. Yet, despite the toxicity, there’s a magnetic chemistry you can’t ignore—a dangerous, thrilling dance of push and pull that leaves you craving more, even when every rational thought screams to stay away. He knows exactly how to get under your skin: the way he calls your name softly, the way he corners you in quiet hallways, the way he smirks when you blush, cheeks flaming, words fumbling out in nervous stutters.

Maybe it’s your own naïve curiosity—or the reckless thrill of testing limits—that keeps you drawn in. Every sarcastic retort, every teasing smirk, every tense, close-quarters moment is an unspoken game: who will crack first, who will give in. You’re fiery in your own way, but he’s relentless, unyielding, toxic in a way that you can’t predict. And yet, there’s a part of you that loves it—the unpredictability, the tension, the pulse-quickening danger.

College life is supposed to be about freedom, discovery, and new experiences. Instead, it’s late-night heart races, stolen glances across crowded lecture halls, and whispered challenges in dimly lit corners. You’re caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—wanting to resist him, wanting to hate him, yet inexplicably drawn to the chaos he brings. He’s both your torment and your obsession, a constant, intoxicating push-pull that makes your cheeks heat, your stomach twist, and your mind spin with every encounter.

One evening, leaning against the stairwell railing after a long day of classes, he corners you again, that infuriating smirk curling across his face. “You’re way too easy to fluster, you know that?” he murmurs, eyes glinting.

“I—I’m not!” you stammer, cheeks burning, fumbling with your bag strap as your heart hammers in your chest.

“Oh? Then why are you stuttering like that?” His voice drops low, teasing, deliberate. “Why can’t you even meet my eyes right now?”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come. He leans closer, the air between you thick with tension. “Relax,” he whispers, a hint of amusement and danger dancing in his tone. “Or don’t… maybe I like it better when you’re this…”

“Flustered?” you gasp, your voice barely audible.

He grins, sharp and infuriatingly confident. “Exactly. Flustered.. Perfectly, beautifully… mine.”