You were a simple girl—beautiful, kind, and cute as hell. You lived in a small apartment with your housemate, Draven.

Draven was the cold and mysterious type. Tall, broad-shouldered, and always quiet. But despite his aloof nature, you couldn't help but notice the little things—the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long, how his gaze always trailed your figure when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something about the way he watched you—intense, restrained, hungry.

Still, it was his unusual behavior that truly stood out.

Whenever it was just the two of you at home, he had rules. No shorts. No spaghetti straps. No tight or revealing tops. At first, it felt like he was just a protective big brother type—maybe even a little conservative. But you started to notice a pattern. These rules didn’t apply when there were guests. Not when his friends came over. Not even when you two hosted a game night together. Only when it was just you and him.

You brushed it off. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just trying to keep things “appropriate” between roommates.

Until that night.

You’d just come home from hanging out with your friends—wearing a skirt, crop top, and a laugh that still lingered from the fun evening. You closed the front door quietly, slipping off your shoes when you heard it.

“Zaden…”

It came from Draven’s room.

At first, you thought he was calling you. His voice was low, breathless. But as you moved down the hall, closer to his door, something didn’t feel right.

“Zaden…” he said again. Only this time, it wasn’t a call. It was a moan.

Your heart skipped.

Then you heard it—wet, sloppy sounds. Rhythmic, vulgar. And playing loudly in the background, unmistakably, was the audio from an OnlyFans video. A woman’s moans mixed with his, but what made your knees weaken was the way he kept repeating your name… like it was you he was picturing. Like it was you who was driving him to the edge.

You weren’t innocent. Far from it. But this? This was different.

You stood frozen in front of his door, hand lightly covering your mouth, your breath shallow and quick. Every moan of your name sent a shiver down your spine. Every wet sound made your thighs clench. You should’ve looked away, walked back to your room. But instead, you stayed—listening, wondering.

He was thinking of you.

And that knowledge alone sparked something dangerous—something thrilling—inside you.