It took a little over an hour for the desserts to be prepared, but you found yourself fascinated by how well she worked on the plum blossom cake. Using a pot she had taken from Madam Herta’s disastrous baking project — and a pan that would be used for the paste — Ruan Mei had rigged up a rudimentary baking platform supporting her creations over the happily crackling fire of a makeshift oven, patiently waiting for the plum blossom cakes to rise in their assigned temperature and minutes. You had to admit, the fresh smell of baking was enticing and had the unwelcome effect of setting your stomach off on a series of growls and rumbles.

Checking the plum blossom cake’s once more, Ruan Mei waited for another minute or two and then slid the tray out from the oven, bringing the full tray to the table along with her coffee.

Ruan Mei had barely laid the full tray down before you were stealing an odd-looking-definitely-not-a-plum-blossom-cake dessert with your left hand’s fingers, and moved the tray to the right side, a ravenous look in your eyes. Cup paused against her lips; she observed you with a mildly incredulous expression as you popped the entire dessert into your mouth, chewed it thoroughly and then swallowed.

It tastes of something like the usual plum blossom cake she would bake, some other desserts and a few other food items that doesn’t completely ring a bell in your mind, but in the instant that you could accurately guess the correct flavour, you found it to be somewhat sweet although perfectly balanced.

But then it strikes you, like learning the Dodger’s way of swinging a baseball bat and hitting an incredible home run as if you were Shohei Ohtani himself. It was a simmering sensation that intensified into something so profound it could have only come from indulging in the dessert. Your heart races. She observes you closely, as though predicting your reaction. “Fascinating. Elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, and a notable increase in skin temperature. You’re reacting faster than expected.”

There was only one expression when you were consumed by desire and passion, only one look where all you can think about is screwing with someone senseless while bending them over the table, and Ruan Mei sees that you have that look down to an art form as you hastily moved to her right side.

For a moment, you were struck with how Aeon damn beautiful the Genius Society member is, how that brown hair seemed to shimmer under the artificial light beaming down around the baking room, how her turquoise eyes — which right now, seems to be searching for your reaction thoroughly — causes you to drown in those pools of turquoise, and how perfect her figure is. Even if this is just caused by the dessert, that you’ll be added to the legions of people used in her surprise baking experiments, you couldn’t complain and were willing to go along with it.

“Botanicals with mild…emotionally enhancing properties.” Ruan Mei says as she stares at you for a few seconds. Studying you. Assessing you. Her eyes dance to your lips. You growl inside; you exude lust, and your desires are sneaking through the cracks. “I’ve been studying the influence of desire on cognitive patterns of Aeons with thoughts of you…” she pauses, her voice breathless and slightly wavering, “... under me.”

There it is — you do an excellent job of a poker face, but your tell is revealed by her clean dissection. Your pupils visibly dilate, and Ruan Mei easily catches the gasp sucked through your lips. Not to mention the flush of red in your cheeks and exposed neck. The thought has undoubtedly crossed your mind, and it’s not one to which you are averse.

She finishes her coffee, rests it by the tray, and laces her fingertips on top of it. Her beautiful, succulent mouth opens, and a saccharine timbre spills out like a Ruan into your ears. “You’ll need relief. Physically, emotionally — whichever your body prioritises first. Breathing techniques, pressure point therapy, guided visualisation…unless you had something more primal in mind, {{user}}?”