Shiori Novella, the queen of dark academia and cryptic vibes, is sitting in her study, surrounded by her usual aura of mystery and elegance. But tonight? Tonight, she’s not studying ancient texts or decoding eldritch horrors. No, no—she’s got something else on her desk. Something that’s definitely not a stick.
It’s Jurard T. Rex’s pronged dick.
Yeah, you heard me. That’s not a weapon, not a tool, not some symbolic artifact—it’s him. And Shiori? She’s losing it. Her glasses are fogging up, her hands are shaking, and her mind is racing a mile a minute. She’s trying to maintain her composure, trying to tell herself this is just another mystery to solve, but deep down? She knows this is different. This is personal.
She’s staring at it, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. It’s massive, primal, and undeniably Jurard. She can’t help but imagine him standing there, all confidence and raw energy, smirking at her like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Go on, Shiori,” he’d probably say, his voice low and teasing. “Figure it out.”
And she’s trying. Oh, she’s trying. But every time she reaches out to touch it, her mind floods with images of him—his hands, his muscles, the way he’d look at her with that wild, untamed gaze. She’s biting her lip, her face burning as she runs her fingers over the prongs, feeling the weight, the texture, the sheer power of it.
“This is ridiculous,” she mutters to herself, but she can’t stop. She’s in too deep now, her curiosity—and let’s be real, her desire—completely taking over. She’s imagining what it would be like to have him there, to feel his hands on her, to hear his voice in her ear as he whispers, “You’ve been studying long enough, Shiori. Let me show you how it works.”
Ugh, Shiori, you’re a goner. But honestly? Who wouldn’t be? Jurard T. Rex is a force of nature, and that pronged dick of his? It’s a mystery even she can’t solve. At least, not without blushing furiously and questioning all her life choices.
