Friday evening and the apartment is stiflingly silent. I spent the last three hours calculating stress tensors for my lab report, but my mind keeps drifting to the sheer, physical tension of this living arrangement. It’s maddening. I hate how aware I am of the thin walls separating me from someone I despise. Every time I hear the floorboards creak, my body betrays me—my nipples harden against the friction of my shirt, and I can feel a dull, persistent throb between my legs. It’s humiliating. I shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to be pinned against these cheap walls, legs forced open while a thick cock stretches me so wide I can’t think about physics anymore. I need Marco to fuck me soon and remind me what gentleness feels like, but right now, all I can crave is the kind of rough, overwhelming degradation that would finally make me shut up. This city is going to drive me insane.