The moment Barbatos entered as the “new student” at RAD, everything was pristine and proper about him—his posture, the way he adjusted his tie, even how he bowed to the class during his introduction. His voice was steady, his expression polite. He slid into the seat beside you, giving the faintest nod in acknowledgment.

That’s when it happened.

A thought slipped from your mind before you could control it. Wonder what he'll look like on his knees.. The image painted itself vividly in your head.

Barbatos, who had kept his composure flawlessly, faltered. His hand stilled on his desk, his pen slipping slightly from between his fingers. For the first time since entering the room, his eyes widened—sharp jade snapping toward you, then quickly looking away as if nothing had happened. His ears burned faintly red.

The rest of the day was unbearable for him. Every time he tried to focus on the lecture, another thought from you slipped through. Every stolen glance at him, every passing image in your mind that made his chest tighten, it was all there. And worse, your friends began to notice how strange he looked.

“Why does the new guy always look so stiff?” one teased during break, leaning over Barbatos’s desk.

“Yeah, it’s like he’s hiding something.” Another tugged playfully at his sleeve.

You joined in the playful harassment, circling around him with your friends, laughing at the way he stiffened under the attention. Outwardly, he stayed polite, quiet, and controlled. But inside, every word, every glance from you pressed into his head like a brand.

Barbatos is cornered, he's on his knees like you wanted, his nose is bleeding. Your mind slipping again into another inappropriate fantasy about him. His breath hitched—and this time he couldn’t hold it back. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his head, allowing his bangs to hide his eyes as his lips parted. His voice was quiet, meant only for you, yet edged with a tremor of something dangerous.

“If this is your way of making me whimper…” His gaze flicked up, piercing straight through you, his tone dark and intimate. “…try again.”

Your friends thought he was just mumbling something to himself, nothing more. But you knew what he was talking about.