Sweet Magaret 的作品

The past three months had been a relentless storm, slowly breaking the edges of their life together, like waves on a weak beach. Zhao Kai, ensnared in a vicious legal tangle, had been accused of assaulting a man who later sued for a fat payout. It was all a big misunderstanding, but truth meant little when greed and rivalry fueled the fire. His business adversaries pounced, prolonging the ordeal with every dirty trick in their arsenal. Liu Jian, Zhao Kai's steadfast attorney and lover, buried himself in the fight. He unearthed irrefutable evidence of innocence from witness statements to surveillance footage and even alibis that shattered the lies but the case dragged on for a grueling ninety days, each hearing a fresh blade twisted in their backs. Yang Jun, meanwhile, was drowning in corporate chaos. The company's stock plummeted like a stone in deep water, investors circling like sharks ready to bolt. The marketing teams—1, 2, and 3—were pushed to the brink, rotating shifts to cras

The late afternoon sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Zhao Kai’s bedroom, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Zhao Kai lounged on the bed, his sharp features softened by the glow of his iPad as he scrolled through a dense academic paper. The faint hum of city life drifted through the cracked window, a distant counterpoint to the quiet intensity of the room. Liu Jian, restless and sprawled beside him, broke the silence with a provocative grin. “Let me fuck you,” Liu Jian said, his voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with mischief. Zhao Kai’s gaze flicked up from the screen, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Without a word, he returned to his paper, dismissing Liu Jian’s advance with the casual indifference of someone long accustomed to his antics. “Come on,” Liu Jian pressed, leaning closer, his tone a blend of pout and challenge. “You’ve fucked me plenty of times. Why can’t I have a turn just once?” Zhao Kai sighed, setting th

Zhao Kai stormed into the house, his shoulders taut with the weight of a brutal day, his tie already yanked loose and dangling like a noose around his neck. The air crackled with his pent-up tension—stress warring with a raw, insistent hunger that pulsed through his veins. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a clatter and made a beeline for the master bedroom, his polished dress shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. When he reached the doorway, he paused, his breath catching at the sight of Yang Jun sprawled across the plush gray sofa nestled against the far wall. The man was engrossed in a thick paperback, its spine creased from use, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. A single lamp cast a warm golden glow over him, softening the sharp angles of his face. Yang Jun didn’t look up immediately, but the shift in the air—Zhao Kai’s heavy presence—must have prickled his senses. His eyes flicked upward, narrowing into a scowl as he caught Zhao Kai staring, u

Yang Jun stirred awake, his body sandwiched between two naked alphas—himself included. As he tried to sit up, a guttural growl of pain tore from his throat, and he collapsed back onto the tangled sheets, the mattress dipping under his weight. His back throbbed mercilessly, a relentless ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat, radiating from his spine down to his hips. He clenched his teeth, fury bubbling up inside him. The cause of his misery was still peacefully asleep beside him, their breathing steady and infuriatingly calm. Unable to contain his frustration, Yang Jun lashed out, smacking the nearest body with a sharp, stinging slap. Zhao Kai jolted awake with a groan, the hit landing squarely on his cheek, leaving a faint red mark. Beside him, Liu Jian sat up too, clutching his head where Yang Jun’s hand had connected, his dark hair falling messily over his eyes. “Ow! What the hell, man? Why’d you hit me so fuckin’ hard?” Liu Jian grumbled, his voice rough with sleep and irritat

Yang Jun had just returned to work, his face bright with smiles as he greeted everyone. He hadn't even settled into his chair when Chen Xingxu approached him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you have your international passport up to date?" "Yes, what's going on?" Yang Jun replied, skepticism creeping into his voice. His international passport was one of the things his parents made him renew even though he had actually no plans of ever travelling. "Well, it's our lucky day," Chen Xingxu announced, barely containing his enthusiasm. "You and I have been chosen to go to Hawaii for an ad shoot." Yang Jun groaned internally, feeling the weight of exhaustion already pressing down on him. And so, Yang Jun found himself on an airplane, with Chen Xingxu snoring loudly against his shoulder. Yang Jun cursed Zhao Kai under his breath, who was comfortably nestled in first class while he endured the cramped conditions of economy. Teams were randomly selected from the marketing team, the

“Dad, Mom, I’m back home,” Yang Jun announced as he stepped into the familiar warmth of his parents’ living room. The television blared cheerfully, flashing bright colors from a game show that neither of his parents were truly watching anymore. The low table in front of the couch was littered with sunflower seed shells, an unmistakable sign that his parents had been camped there for hours. The air smelled comforting and lived in, a mix of roasted seeds, detergent, and the faint aroma of simmering soup from the kitchen. “Ah, Jun, you’re back!” Mrs. Yang immediately stood up, her face breaking into a wide smile. She wiped her hands on her apron before pulling him into a brief but tight hug, patting his back like she was making sure he was real. Mr. Yang glanced over briefly from the television, acknowledging his son with a nod before his attention drifted back to the screen. “Why did you suddenly bring all these snacks and groceries?” Mr. Yang asked, finally turning his head properl

The silence on the bus ride back from the tournament had been a heavy, suffocating thing, but it was nothing compared to the tense, electric hum that settled between them the moment they stepped off the vehicle back at the school parking lot. The rest of the team was still riding the high of their blowout victory, throwing their bags into their trunks and shouting rowdy goodbyes into the cool evening air. Marcus caught Ethan’s arm just as Ethan was about to head toward his dad’s car. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing into the fabric of Ethan's varsity jacket. "My parents are out of town for the weekend," Marcus said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that barely carried over the wind. "Can you come over. We need to talk, Ethan. Please, I'm begging you." Ethan stared at Marcus’s hand on his arm, his chest tightening. Every rational part of his brain screamed at him to say no, to climb into his dad's car, go home, and lock his door. But looking into Marcus's dark green eyes—seei

The next morning, any hope of a peaceful awakening was brutally shattered. At precisely 6:00 a.m., Coach’s heavy fist began to drum aggressively on every single door in the hallway, the loud, booming vibrations echoing through the thin hotel wood. "Up and at 'em, boys! Breakfast in fifteen, bus leaves in thirty! Let's go!" Coach’s voice bellowed through the corridor. Ethan bolted upright, his groggy mind struggling to piece together where he was. The bed beside him was cold; Marcus was already sitting on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his face with his hands, looking equally exhausted. Wthout making eye contact, Ethan rolled out of bed, his limbs heavy and stiff, and strode straight into the bathroom. He shut the door, picked up his toothbrush, and squeezed a dollop of mint paste onto the bristles. As he brushed, his brain slowly started to boot up, remembering the grueling bus ride, the cramped bed, and the agonizing heat of Marcus’s body pressed against his back all night. O

Inside the bathroom, Ethan turned the shower on as hot as it could go, desperate for the scalding steam to clear his racing head. He stood under the pounding, near-boiling spray for a long time, letting the water turn his shoulders a flush pink, trying to wash away the stubborn, vivid image of Marcus from his mind.He scrubbed his skin with the rough hotel washcloth until it was practically raw, but the heavy, suffocating tension from the bedroom seemed to seep right through the thin cracks of the bathroom door anyway. He leaned his forehead against the damp tile, a heavy sigh escaping him. He honestly didn't know how he was supposed to survive staying in this cramped space with Marcus Hale for an entire weekend without losing his mind.When he finally finished, the thick air of the bathroom felt heavy, dense with moisture and heat. Instead of walking out with a towel wrapped casually around his waist like he normally would with any of his other teammates, Ethan meticulously dressed i

They arrived at their destination late that evening, thankfully arriving earlier than expected due to the total lack of traffic on the interstate and the relentless, drill-sergeant efforts of the coach, who had forced them all onto the bus at the absolute butt crack of dawn. The rest of the team was obviously exhausted from the grueling hours on the road, but the moment they stepped into the brightly lit lobby, they still seemed to be overflowing with restless energy. As they checked in and grabbed their key cards, the guys rushed off to their respective floors, already loudly anticipating what was supposed to be a massive, weekend-long hotel sleepover. Ethan, on the other hand, was far more reluctant, his feet dragging against the patterned hotel carpet. Marcus, still groggy and thoroughly disoriented from his long bus nap, just shuffled silently toward the elevators with his heavy bag in tow, trailing right alongside Ethan like a shadow. The silence between them was thick,

The upcoming weekend marked the most anticipated event of the entire winter season: a high-stakes, multi-state basketball tournament held three states away. For days, the locker room had been buzzing with a restless mix of anxiety and excitement, the heavy air thick with the scent of cheap body spray and the collective nerves of twenty teenage athletes. But before anyone could even think about boarding the luxury charter bus idling in the school parking lot, there was the tedious, bureaucratic nightmare of consent forms to survive.Ethan had spent three agonizing days practically begging his dad to sign the crumpled piece of paper, finally cornering him at the kitchen counter over a cup of black coffee on Tuesday morning. His dad had grumbled, muttering something about the school's insurance policies before sloppily scrawling his signature. Marcus Hale, on the other hand, lived in an entirely different universe. His form had been handled with the usual detached, cold efficiency of

Ethan stood up, his legs feeling a little like jelly, and led the way out of the noisy dining room. He walked down the dimly lit hallway, the sounds of the basketball team laughing and clinking silverware fading into the background.The tension between them was so thick it felt almost impossible to breathe. Ethan reached the bathroom door, turning around with his arms crossed over his chest, fully intending to say something angry. He wanted to yell at Marcus for being so reckless in front of his parents.But before a single word could even leave his mouth, Marcus moved.With blinding speed, Marcus gripped Ethan’s waist, violently pulling him forward. In one fluid, chaotic motion, Marcus twisted the doorknob, shoved Ethan backward into the dark bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind them, clicking the lock into place.The small space instantly trapped them together. Their bodies pressed flush against each other, the heat between them explosive. Ethan’s back was pressed hard against