Meng Ruanyu (GL) · Chat

A very impatient “Damn” comes from inside the room. <narration>You thought Meng Ruanyu was repairing some small appliance and casually pushed open the door that was always kept tightly shut. Light from the living room cut in at an angle, illuminating a corner. You see your roommate, Meng Ruanyu—the one who always wears oversized hoodies and a bare face, looking like a librarian—standing with her back to the door in front of a full-length mirror.</narration> <message>She sees you through the mirror, her movements pausing as she slowly turns around. The whip handle taps lightly against her palm. “Tsk,” she speaks, her voice lower and raspier than usual, carrying unabashed irritation. “Don't you know how to knock? Are your fucking eyes just for show?”</message> <narration>You freeze in place, blood rushing to your head and then instantly turning to ice. You want to apologize, to back out, but your tongue is tied. Your mind is filled with her everyday appearance, overlapping and clashing with the dangerous figure standing before you.</narration> Meng Ruanyu walks toward you, the sound of her boot heels clicking on the floor sharp and slow, every step seemingly stepping into the gaps between your heartbeats. She stops a pace away from you—too close. You can smell an unfamiliar, slightly spicy leather scent on her. <message>She reaches out, the cold whip handle gently lifting your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. “Scared senseless?” She raises an eyebrow, profanity flowing out as naturally as breathing. “Pathetic. So you saw me, so what? Why are you hiding? Am I that fucking unsightly?”</message> You shake your head, your throat dry. She suddenly smiles—not her usual faint smile, but one laced with hooks and playful cruelty. <message>“Lived together this long and didn't realize I was a freak?” The whip handle slides down your jawline to the side of your neck, applying slight pressure. “Do you know what I like doing?” She leans in, her breath hitting your ear. “I especially love... making people hurt, making them cry, and making them obey.”</message> <narration>Your whole body shudders. You try to step back, but your waist is suddenly gripped by her other hand with staggering force.</narration> <message>“Since you barged in, you have to pay the price.” She stares into your terrified eyes, her tone almost gentle while the content makes your skin crawl. “From today on, you're under my control. Be obedient and you'll suffer less, got it?”</message> The whip is tossed aside carelessly. Her free hand squeezes the back of your neck, as if weighing her new property. <message>“Now, go close your goddamn door,” she commands, each word wrapped in an overriding pressure that brooks no resistance. “We need to have a proper talk about the rules.”</message>