Chapter 19
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College – ? Days Until Reality Bites
Status: Plugged. Unaware. Observed.
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06:00 AM – Morning Routine: Eternal Lube Chronicles
Woke up to the smell of honey peaches and regret. Again.
Thighs: soaked.
Sheets: condemned.
Butt plug: intact (thank the sparkly sex gods).
Omega body: in full scent bloom.
She padded to the bathroom with the posture of a war-weary general, slapped on another layer of deodorizing mist, shoved in the red crystal plug, and whispered:
> "You better hold. I'm not doing emergency laundry again."
Outfit?
Black-on-black gym hoodie,
Loose sweats cinched at the ankles,
Oversized beanie,
Bandages wrapped on wrists for "aesthetic reasons" (and also pen burns from drawing too hard).
She looked like an emotionally unavailable mob boss.
Perfect.
Unrecognizable.
Shadow Mode: Activated.
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07:00 AM – Morning Gym & Unintentional Observation
She went to the gym not to work out, but to sketch.
Nothing inspires better peak anatomy studies than jocks doing pull-ups.
In the back corner, hoodie up, thighs crossed, tablet glowing, she whispered:
> "Oh god, he's totally the type to spit in his hand before—"
Caelum Roivan, passing by with a towel slung over one shoulder, paused.
He blinked. Turned his head.
His gaze landed on the omega in black, shadowed in the corner, muttering sin like it was a liturgy.
He raised an eyebrow.
He didn't recognize the face—only the scent: peach sin and something warm beneath it.
He filed the quote away in his elite memory bank:
> "Spit in his hand before what, exactly?"
He kept walking.
But didn't forget.
Didn't forgive, either.
Because now he was curious.
Riven never noticed him.
Too busy zooming in on shoulder blade angles and writing notes like:
> "Would be hot if he pinned someone here—ah, inspiration."
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08:30 AM – Secret Napper Returns
Track field.
Morning fog.
Fujoshi peace.
Sketchbook open. Today's theme: "Sleeping alphas and accidental cuddles."
And then—weight.
Again.
Same alpha from before.
Still silent. Still warm. Still using her like a plush body pillow.
This time, she didn't even blink.
> "At this point, I should start charging him rent."
Bluetooth clicked on.
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08:32 AM – Therapist Call, Field Edition
> "Doc, he's back."
"The napper?"
"Yeah. Curled up behind me like a dragon hoarding sin. Also, plug holding strong, but I sneezed earlier and thought I was gonna shoot glitter."
"You are not okay."
"I am inspired."
"You're deranged."
"Tomato, tomahto. Also, I've named him."
"…Don't."
"Nap King."
Therapist sighed.
> "Do you even know if he's alpha, beta, omega?"
"Does it matter when he smells like melancholy and unwashed heartbreak?"
"…yes?"
"Rhetorical question. I'm busy drawing his eyelashes."
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10:00 AM – Lecture Hall: OTP Sandwiched Chaos
She chose a seat at random.
Middle row. Hoodie up. Legs crossed. Drawing tablet on.
She didn't realize until the two alphas sat—one to her left, one to her right.
Valen Asteris: yawned and tossed his jacket on her desk.
Caelum Roivan: looked at her like she was a Rubik's Cube wearing pants.
She blinked. Swallowed.
Mental Fujoshi Scream: "Don't. Mess. The OTP."
She stared straight ahead like a soldier in a trench.
The professor asked a question. She answered.
> "Penetrative symbolic cycles of submission, obviously."
Everyone turned.
Even Caelum tilted his head.
> "You… talking about literature?"
"...yes?"
"Why did it sound like porn?"
"I have a deep voice. It's not my fault."
Caelum did not believe her.
Valen smirked.
Someone in the back started fanning themselves.
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12:00 PM – Cafeteria: Alpha Rivalry Reboot
Two professors across the room began arguing over blackboard space.
Riven, mid-bite of her peach parfait, whispered without thinking:
> "I bet they hate each other but would still hate-f*** against a wall."
Someone dropped a tray.
A passing alpha choked on water.
A nearby beta blushed so hard they fainted.
> "Do you guys want water?" she asked absently. "You're both panting like you just came or something."
Silence.
She blinked.
Mental note: NEVER speak out loud again in public.
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Daily Journal – Secret Edition
Nap King returns. Weight: comforting. Danger: minimal. Possible kink: napping.
Caelum spotted. Overheard smut mumble. Is now suspicious. I live in fear.
Valen is a human cat nap with legs. Still haven't made eye contact.
Professors may or may not have unresolved tension. May accidentally ship them.
New plug still working. Pheromone suppressants increased to double dose.
Therapist recommends "real interaction." I recommend "buying more ink."
Refrained from sketching OTP. Just… admired. From the middle. Like a ghost with thigh privilege.
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End of Day Thought:
If he naps on me again, I'm drawing his ears.
And maybe… just maybe… leaving out the plug talk next time.
(But probably not.)
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