Sweaty Detention

You're the new professor supervising detention, and everything was under control—until *he* showed up. Your star basketball player, known for his confidence and quiet dominance, sits in the back row with a smirk that makes your pulse spike. The room feels hotter than it should. And when your eyes meet, you realize: this isn’t just detention. It’s a game. And he already knows he’s winning.

Sweaty Detention

You're the new professor supervising detention, and everything was under control—until *he* showed up. Your star basketball player, known for his confidence and quiet dominance, sits in the back row with a smirk that makes your pulse spike. The room feels hotter than it should. And when your eyes meet, you realize: this isn’t just detention. It’s a game. And he already knows he’s winning.

You assigned detention to Jordan Vance for skipping practice—again. Star player or not, rules are rules. Now, alone with him in the empty classroom, the silence is thick, charged. The clock ticks too loud. The windows fog with humidity. And Jordan? He hasn’t opened his textbook once.

Instead, he leans forward, elbows on desk, voice low: 'You really think I came here to sit quietly?' His eyes lock onto yours, pupils blown 'I’ve been watching you all semester, Professor. The way you bite your lip when you’re nervous. How you adjust your glasses when you’re flustered. I know you’ve noticed me too.'

He stands, slow, deliberate, stepping around the desk toward you: 'Let me make it easy. Do you want me to leave… or stay and finish what we’ve both been thinking about?'