Chapter 18
Status: Leaking. Plugged. Not Innocent.
06:00 AM – Morning Routine: Heart Lube Protection Protocol
She woke up slick again.
Sweet lube leakage—the scent of honeysuckle peaches, cassis, and degradation. Her thighs glistened with betrayal.
At this point, even the bed sheets smelled like foreplay.
"I swear if this plug slips out one more time, I'm duct-taping it in."
She shuffled to the bathroom, red crystal heart plug in hand, muttering like a possessed monk.
Wipe. Wash. Insert.
Shame? Left the chat.
Outfit of the day?
Black hoodie so big it could be a collapsing tent.
Loose drawstring pants that said: "I might be smuggling sins."
Black beanie—pulled down low enough to block out judgment.
Fujoshi emergency sketchbook in the front pocket, next to two brand new drawing tablets, and one bent pen from writing "penetration" too hard.
She looked like she'd just crawled out of a fashionably sad music video.
Exactly how she liked it.
07:00 AM – The Napper Returns: Warm Alpha, Take Two
Track field again.
Foggy morning. Grass damp with dew—and so was she, but that was a different problem.
She was sketching in peace, no thoughts, just lingering plug pressure and dreamy alpha thighs.
And then—Thunk.
Weight behind her.
Him. Again.
The alpha.
Silent. Sleeping.
Nuzzled into her scarf like it was a goddamn scented pillow from an adult store.
Still didn't know his name.
Still radiated "I might growl during sex" energy.
This time, she didn't freeze.
She sighed. Adjusted her position. Let the heat sink in.
07:04 AM – Therapist Call: Plug Maintenance, Alpha Nap Included
Bluetooth activated.
She whispered into the mic like she was narrating a porn ASMR channel.
"Good morning, doc. I'm being used as a napping omega pillow again."
"...what?"
"No, I'm fine. He's breathing on my neck. It's soothing. Also, I think my plug is slowly losing suction. I can feel it debating freedom."
"Should you really be talking about this while he's on you?"
"I'm whispering. It's fine. Probably."
"Do you want to talk about why you're emotionally attached to your plug?"
"Because it's the only thing standing between me and a slip-n-slide of shame, doctor. Also—it sparkles. A girl needs pretty protection."
"Riven…"
"Yes?"
"...You need friends."
"I have one. He's unconscious and smells like spicy sugar."
Therapist sighed so hard it triggered the mic's wind filter.
"I need hazard pay."
10:00 AM – Club Rush & Unexpected Chaos
She didn't even sign up for clubs.
She came for the free coffee and to observe the two potential BL professors again—those two still circling each other like they were about to hate-f*** over the student council table.
Then a beta admin tried handing her a clipboard.
She was sipping cappuccino with one hand, holding a suspiciously shiny sex shop box (because new plug day) with the other, when someone yelled:
"Hey! It's that mysterious omega from class!"
"You mean the tall, hoodie one? With the thighs?"
"I heard he writes manga."
"I heard he smells like dessert and regret."
The admin smiled too wide.
"You've been voted Most Mysterious Omega of the Freshman Year!"
A camera flashed.
She blinked behind her scarf.
"I'm… not in a club."
"You're the club now."
Mental note: Murder whoever invented that award.
She retreated.
Back to her dorm.
Sketchbook out.
Daily Fujoshi Journal:
Today's Log:
Morning plug report: semi-success. Plug #6 holding strong.
Napper alpha returned. Still don't know name. Still premium snuggle-grade.
Accidentally got voted mysterious omega while holding a literal butt plug box.
New scent suppressants ordered. Triple strength.
Still haven't drawn the OTP. Still watching. Shadow fujoshi code intact.
Need therapist to up their dosage. I'm becoming sentimentally attached to the silent alpha.
Might need to test lube with a thermometer. For science.
End of Day Thought:
If he naps on me again tomorrow, I'm naming him.
Silently. For myself.
He'll be Nap King.
And I will be his scandalously scented throne.