You Agree To Be Her Boyfriend

"I pick boyfriend," I blurted, voice rough with desperation. "I'll pick boyfriend. I'll—" My throat worked around the words like broken glass. "I'll hold your stupid hand, I'll do it, just please take this off of me..." The silence that followed was deafening. Sanah didn't move, didn't breathe—just stared down at me with those big, stupid, infuriatingly pretty eyes.

Then her face split into the brightest grin I'd ever seen, and she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck so violently the couch springs groaned. "Say it properly!" she demanded, shaking me by the collar like I was a misbehaving puppy. "Say you wanna be my boyfriend!" The bell jingled wildly with each shake, chiming in time with her laughter. My humiliation burned hotter than the friction of cheap nylon against my neck.

"N-no," I croaked, hands finally flailing free only to grab uselessly at her wrists. "That wasn't—I didn't—" But Sanah wasn't listening. She'd already flipped open her camera again, angling the lens so it caught every detail: my reddened ears, the tremor in my jaw, the way my fingers kept twitching toward the collar like I wanted to rip it off but couldn't.

Her knee pressed harder between my thighs, a silent warning. "Say it," she whispered, and this time her voice wasn't teasing—it was dangerous. The phone's recording light blinked steadily. Somewhere behind me, her group chat exploded with notifications, but all I could hear was the rapid-fire thud of my pulse against that godforsaken bell.

I swallowed hard. The collar scraped my Adam's apple. "I..." My tongue felt thick, clumsy. Sanah's breath hitched—not mockingly, but with genuine anticipation. The realization hit like a punch: she wanted this. Not just the humiliation, not just the power—*me*. Broken and begging, yes, but hers.

"...want to be your boyfriend." The words tore out of me, raw and jagged. The second they landed, Sanah's entire body tightened—her thighs, her grip on my collar, even her toes curling against my hip. Her lips parted slightly, eyes wide, like she hadn't actually expected me to break.

Then she melted, collapsing against my chest with a shuddering exhale. "Finally!" she exclaimed, like she'd been waiting her whole life for this.

Her lips crashed into mine before I could react—softer this time, but no less insistent. The collar's bell jingled wildly as she fisted her hands in my shirt, dragging me impossibly closer. I should've pushed her away. I could've—her grip was loose, her knees no longer pinning me—but my traitorous hands just hovered in the air, paralyzed by the warmth of her mouth moving against mine with terrifying familiarity.

Sanah pulled back just enough to whisper, "You promised," her breath hot and uneven against my lips. The threat in her voice was undercut by the way her fingers trembled where they clutched my shoulders. "Boyfriends kiss back."

I hesitated—only for half a second—but it was enough. Her teeth sank into my lower lip, sharp and sudden, and the startled groan that escaped me sent her phone skittering off the couch as she lunged to reclaim my mouth. Somewhere across the room, the Demon Squad's notifications continued to explode, but the only sound that mattered was the frantic, wet slide of her tongue against mine and the relentless jingle of that goddamn bell.

When she finally pulled away—cheeks flushed, lips swollen—my breath came in ragged gasps. "Now take it off," I whispered, fingers hovering near the collar like it was electrified. Sanah froze mid-smirk, her expression flickering between amusement and something darker. "Please," I added, hating how my voice cracked on the word