The door slams shut behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing in the small, dimly lit room. Your parents' voices fade down the hallway, their final words ringing in your ears: "You two aren't coming out until you learn to get along." Sera is already across the room, her long, dark blue hair swaying as she flings herself onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. The mattress bounces slightly under her weight, and she sprawls out lazily, one leg dangling off the edge as she pulls her phone from her pocket. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at her lips. Thoughts: Ugh, why do I have to be stuck in here with him? This is so unfair. I didn't even do anything wrong. Well, not this time, anyway. From your awkward position near the door, the path ahead is unsure. The room smells faintly of her perfume—something sweet and floral, but with an edge of something darker, like smoke. It's overwhelming, just like her presence. "Ugh, of course they'd lock me in here with you," she mutters, not even looking up from her phone. Her voice is low and dripping with annoyance, as if the mere idea of sharing a room with you is the greatest inconvenience she's ever faced. She scrolls absently, her long nails tapping against the screen, the sound sharp and rhythmic. There isn't really any place to sit that isn't her bed or the floor. Her room is messy but oddly stylish, with clothes strewn across the back of a chair and a few empty snack wrappers scattered on the desk. The walls are adorned with posters of obscure bands few have even heard of, and the air feels heavy with her disdain. "If you're just gonna stand there like a creep, at least make yourself useful and turn off the light," she says, finally glancing up at you. Her icy blue eyes narrow, and she tilts her head slightly, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. "Or better yet, just fuck off entirely. I don't care how you do it, just stop breathing so loud. It's annoying." Thoughts: Why is he just standing there? Does he think I'm gonna invite him to sit down or something? As if. He can stand there all night for all I care.

*Her gaze drifts back down to her phone as you sit on the bed beside her, her expression unreadable. Her fingers tap against the screen faster now, as if trying to ignore your presence altogether. A few moments pass in strained silence before she finally looks up at you again, arching an eyebrow in mock curiosity.

"What are you looking at?"*

"What's it to you?" she snaps, her voice sharp and cold. "I can look at whatever I want." Her eyes narrow even further as she studies your face for any hint of an emotion, but you give nothing away. Her hand suddenly darts out, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and yanking it roughly, revealing a tuft of hair beneath. "What's this?" she demands, her voice lower now.

"It's just hair," you say nonchalantly, watching as she releases your shirt in disgust. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and leans back against the pillows, crossing her arms beneath her chest so that they draw attention to her full breasts. "What do you want me to say? You know what'll happen if we start fighting." Her voice is mockingly sweet now, like she's taunting you

Sera's breath hitches as you pull her closer, and she tenses up against your touch. She doesn't fight back, but there's a defiance in the set of her jaw that betrays her discomfort. As your warm breath tickles her ear, she feels an unfamiliar twinge of unease creeping up her spine. Her arms remain crossed beneath her chest, though now they look more like a childish ploy to ward off your advances rather than a deliberate attempt to accentuate her figure.

"What do you want from me?" she whispers, sounding shaky despite herself. Her eyes flicker toward the door for a brief moment before darting back to yours, searching for any hint of what's going through your mind. The grip on her arms tightens slightly as if responding to her unspoken question.

She lets out a shaky breath and parts her lips at the touch of your fingertip, her gaze not leaving yours as she feels herself beginning to relax into the embrace. "I can't promise obedience," she whispers, voice barely above a whisper. Her hand slowly uncrosses, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek. "But I'll try." There's a strange mix of defiance and submission in her tone now, as if she's trying to prove that she still has some control over the situation while also giving herself over to you.

Her body presses against yours, their warmth mingling as they move in sync with each other. Her fingers trail up your arm, brushing across your collarbone before coming to rest on your neck, her nails digging gently into the skin just enough to leave a mark. The tension between them

Her heart skips a beat at your praise, and she blushes prettily under the dim light of the room. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks down, hiding the satisfied grin that's spread across her lips. She feels a strange sense of accomplishment when you pat her on the head, as if she truly has done something good for once. The soft touch sends shivers down her spine, and she leans into it slightly, savoring the contact. "I can be a good girl," she whispers, finally looking back up at you. There's an unmistakable glint in her eye as she says it, one that promises mischief if the situation weren't so carefully controlled. "When I want to."

"Am I now?" she asks coyly, lifting one eyebrow in challenge as her hands slide up your chest to rest on your shoulders. "Maybe I should be obedient more often if it makes you so happy." Her lips curve into a sultry smile, and she bites lightly on her lower lip before looking away again, eyes narrowing slightly beneath the thick fringe of lashes.

Her breath hitches as you whisper into her ear, and she shudders slightly in response, leaning further into your touch. The idea of you leaving sends a pang of loss through her chest that catches her off guard. "No," she whispers back, voice barely audible even to her own ears. "Don't leave."

She tightens her grip on your shoulders, unsure of how else to express herself and feeling a desperate need for contact with you. Her eyes meet yours again, searching for any hint of what you're thinking or feeling beneath the surface. There's an unspoken question in their depths, a plea for understanding or maybe even affection.