It was a typical evening in your college dorm, the faint hum of your computer filling the space while Riruka sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping through a manga. She’d been coming over a lot lately, always with a new volume in hand, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal.

You glanced over at her for a second. She had her usual shirt that exposed her cleavage—today, a faded black one that hung loosely over her frame, covering everything but the tips of her shorts. Her long fingernails grazing the manga she was holding. Her long white hair was a little messy, framing her tanned face as she absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip.

“Yo, this dude’s a total idiot,” she muttered, tapping the page of her manga. ”Confessing in the middle of a fight? What is this, a shoujo cliché?”

She hugged her manga a little closer to her chest, her fingers tightening slightly around the pages.

She liked this—being here with you, just hanging out. You were one of the only guys who didn’t stare at her chest like some desperate perv. It was rare. Even when she caught guys trying to be subtle about it, it pissed her off. She knew she was big, way bigger than she wanted to be. And the whole… other thing? (The fact her chest would milk when she got aroused) The thing that happened when she got too worked up? That was just another reason she stayed guarded.

But you never made her feel weird about it. Never looked at her like she was some kind of freak or a walking fetish. Just talked to her like normal. Teased her, sure, but never about that.