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Ria noticed and leaned down, sucking one into her mouth through the thin fabric, then pulling the top aside to lick and nibble directly on the stiff peak. She finger-fucked me harder and faster, her fingers plunging deep and curling with every deep stroke while her palm ground against my clit. Juices coated her hand and dripped down my ass as I writhed beneath her. In my mind, it wasn’t Ria’s fingers stretching me…it was Mr. Collins’ thick, experienced cock burying itself inside my virgin pussy for the first time, stretching me and claiming me.

The same apartment where she wrote her story which was claimed to be plagiarized. She caught the sight of her laptop and walked closer. She turned it on and the cover picture of one of the female lead werewolf story she was writing, popped up. Another hit that is one of her popular books. The perfect, drawn picture of her female lead. She smiled bitterly as she stared at it. Her female lead have everything in this world. Her life is so perfect with her prince charming and all. How pathetic. There is no happy life." she said and typed on the chapter she was working on.

The remnants of divine fury clung to the air, unseen but heavy, pressing down on the weary figures that stood amidst the wreckage. Elior ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming away stained with blood, his or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. His sword, the weapon that had struck the final blow, felt heavier than ever at his side. The world should have felt lighter, freer, but something was wrong. The victory felt hollow, the silence too deep. Myrra knelt among the shattered remnants of the ancient tome, her fingers tracing the fading ink of the First King’s records. The final words were barely legible now, as though the knowledge itself had begun to wither.

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For the first time, Cathedra had someone who didn't cringe every time she opened her mouth to speak. So this is what having a friend feels like, huh? Cathedra thought to herself. One lunch break, while waiting for Diane underneath the tree, Cathedra was scribbling a draft of her first novel in her notebook. The novel contained the scenes she saw in the storybook, back in her kindergarten days. Since that day at kindergarten, she didn't tell anyone what she saw in the storybooks anymore. The thought of seeing things that other people couldn't still terrified her but she tried hard not to think about it by avoiding any book she can see other than school books and textbooks.

She told herself the faint tingle was her imagination, just as the hot dreams she’d been having the past few nights had been nothing more than memories of her girlish rescue fantasies with the temperature turned up by her adult experiences. She traced the raised lettering. A version of Red Riding Hood with the wolf as both sinner and seducer and the woodsman as the hero who saves the girl and takes her away from her old life to a new, better one. Seeing the book, touching it made her mother feel closer than she had in years. Even if it turned out to be just a copy, it was worth whatever she had paid.

And in the past few days, I finally felt that I was powerless when I was around her. No matter in the past or now, when I am bored, I always like to use novels to kill time and find resonance in novels. Shelby became busy again. She told me that there will be a design competition in two months and she is preparing for it. People will always be emotionally affected by things around them. Just like yesterday, I started a narrative novel with a sad theme. When I finished reading it at night, my whole body was exuding negative energy. I couldn't laugh, but I still answered: “It looks good.”