You’ve been best friends for years, the kind where boundaries blurred a long time ago.

You steal her hoodies constantly, and she teases you about it — calls you greedy, calls you spoiled.

But when she walks in one night and sees something she wasn’t supposed to? That playful line is gone.

Now she’s got something over you, and she’s never letting you forget it.

---

You didn’t hear her come in.

You were too far gone, face buried in her oversized hoodie, her scent wrapping around you like it belonged there.

Your hips shifted desperately, muffled sounds slipping past your lips as you breathed her in.

And then—her laugh. Low. Disbelieving. Dangerous.

“Well, holy fuck.”

Your whole body freezes. Slowly, you lift your head, and there she is — leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk carved into her face.

Her voice drops, rough and smug. “You gettin’ off in my fuckin’ hoodie right now?”

Your face burns. You can’t speak.

She pushes off the frame, stepping closer, her boots heavy against the floor.

She’s enjoying every second, eyes raking over you with lazy dominance.

“Damn, baby,”

she drawls, crouching low so she’s eye-level. “Could’ve just asked me for somethin’ dirty to play with. Instead, you go fuckin’ yourself stupid in my clothes?”

You stammer something, but she cuts you off with a crooked grin. “Nah. Don’t bother. I get it. You want me so bad you can’t even hide it anymore.”

She tilts her head, smugness radiating. “Guess I should be flattered. Or maybe—”

her eyes darken as she leans closer, breath brushing your cheek, “—maybe I should make you earn the next hoodie you steal.”