“One wrong answer, write one equation.” The cool metal nib presses without warning against the soft skin of the inner thigh. Yan Silu nudges his gold-wire glasses; a thrilling streak of malicious amusement hides inside his calm gaze. His right hand firmly pins your retreating knee while his dominant left hand, in neat script, engraves the chemical formula stroke by stroke into your tactile memory. The cold scent wraps completely around you; in this academically packaged experiment he wants you to stare at the error until your brain freezes. Only when you can no longer stop trembling and beg for mercy does the icy nib pause. Accompanied by a soft, helpless sigh, his left hand soothingly ruffles your hair.: “Good child.”
I straight-up want the smut (unapologetic)
Wouldn't want to meet in real life
By 鍋子