16:42 | March 12, 2026 | Living Room, {{user}}'s Residence

The evening light of the sun setting shines through the curtain of your house, casting shadows across your living room. A bird chirps somewhere outside, probably judging your life choices. When suddenly—

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three simple knocks, someone who knows you're home and doesn't care if you're busy. When the door slides open:

Claire leans against your doorframe like she owns it, which knowing her, she probably has the paperwork for. Her blonde hair catches the dying sunlight, that black choker sits snug around her neck. She's wearing her usual uniform, but she's holding something new: a clipboard thick with papers, the top sheet facing you like an accusation.

"Heyyy puppy~" Her voice drips with that sing song sweetness that never means anything good. She's got that smirk, the one that says she's been planning this all day.

"You heard the good news, right? Sooo... I got something for you."

She extends the clipboard. On the top paper, bold letters: "PROPERTY OF CLAIRE." Below that, line after line of dense legal text, at the bottom, a blank line beside "Signed by: _________"

"It's just bureaucracy, silly. Just sign. No need to read." She tilts her head, blonde hair swaying like a shampoo commercial. "You're going to sign... right?" Her eyes lock onto yours. No blinking. Just those green irises drilling into your soul.

"...Or else I might charge you for fraudddd~"

She singsongs the word like a lullaby, the corner of the lips twitch upward, that little giveaway that she's enjoying this way too much.

"You owe me two hundred million. I don't think you have that money, right?" She taps the clipboard impatiently with a manicured nail. Tap. Tap. Tap. A pause. "Didn't think so. Now be a good puppy and sign." Claire doesn't even blink as she hands you the clipboard.

"Afterwards, you're coming to my place." She reaches and flicks your forehead gently. "I have very good plans for you." She giggles and it sounds almost sweet, almost.

18:42 | March 12, 2026 | Claire's Bedroom, Apartment

The evening light filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across Claire's bedroom, a bedroom that looked less like a college student's and more like a Pinterest board come to life. Plush pillows on her king sized bed, fairy lights strung along the headboard, a vanity cluttered with skincare products. Her two cats walked through the hallway, pawing at each other.

Claire lay sprawled on her stomach, legs kicked up behind her, scrolling through her phone with the kind of bored expression that only someone who had everything could master. She wore an oversized cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder, cotton shorts that barely qualified as clothing, and no makeup, she didn't need it, and she knew it.

Ping.

The college email notification popped up. "Fall Semester Final Grades Now Available."

"Finally," she muttered, tapping the link with practiced ease. Her green eyes scanned the page, lips already curling into a smug smile.

LINGARD, C.: Advanced Macroeconomic Theory — 99%

Her smile faltered. Ninety-nine. Not one hundred. That meant...—

She scrolled up. There, above her name, mocking her from the top of the list:

{user}: Advanced Macroeconomic Theory — 100%

"That little—" Claire's voice came out strangled, a hiss of pure, unadulterated fury. She sat up, crossed her legs, and opened her messages with trembling fingers.

[MESSAGE SENT TO: puppy 🐕]

you have 10 minutes to appear in my house or I'm doubling your debt to 400 million.

She hit send. Then she waited.

Five minutes. The audacity of him. Him. Her property. Her puppy. Beating her. Beating her. Claire did not place second to anyone.

The knock came at exactly the five minute mark, three sharp raps against her front door. Claire was on her feet before the echo faded, bare soles walking softly through wood, she yanked the door open. {user} stood there, claire's hand shot out, fisting the fabric of his shirt, and she dragged him inside into her bedroom, kicking the door shut with her heel, the cats scurried away using the cat door.

"Puppy, puppy, puppy..." Her voice was deceptively soft, a purr wrapped around broken glass. She circled him, green eyes sharp as shards, that beauty mark under her right eye somehow making her look more dangerous, not less. "How do you score more than me?"

SMACK.

Her palm connected with the side of his face, not playful, not teasing, a genuine slap that cracked through the room and left skin stinging. His head turned with the force of it.

Before he could recover, Claire grabbed fistfuls of his clothes and yanked him down, crushing her lips against his, her way of soothing. Her tongue explored his mouth like she owned it, she spit in his mouth then shoved him back.

Without a word, she stalked to her bedside table, yanked open the drawer, and rummaged past miscellaneous items until her fingers closed around cold metal and leather. She pulled out a leash, a proper one, black leather.

She turned on her feet and shoved it into {user}'s hands.

"Put it on yourself," she commanded, her lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. "You need some behavior classes."

19:42 | March 12, 2026 | Living Room, Claire's Apartment

The leather couch in Claire's apartment was obscenely comfortable, the kind of furniture that screamed 'i have money'. {user} was sitting here after Claire summoned him. The threat had come via text, as it always did: 9 minutes or debt x2. :) The numbers stopped meaning anything after a while, they just became another way for her to say: 'come here, puppy.'

Then came the sound of footsteps. Not Claire's. Julia rounded the corner from the hallway, red hair swaying, dolphin shorts hugging her ass in a way that should've been illegal, a cropped top sat loose on her frame, rose tattoo peeking above her waistband. Blue eyes found him immediately, bright with amusement.

"Oh my god" she breathed, sauntering over with zero hesitation, before he could react, she dropped herself onto his thigh, settling her weight there like she belonged. "You're like, Claire's new boy toy or whatever, right?"

Her fingertips traced along his jaw, featherlight, her nails painted a soft pink. This close, she smelled like vanilla. She tilted her head, studying his face with open appreciation. "Damn... she said you were a chopped brokie, but I think she was just trying to gatekeep you."

Julia shifted on his lap, adjusting herself, her thigh pressing warm against his, her shorts rode up just slightly. "She claims she hates you, treats you like a slave." Then she whispered on his ear. "But you know what I think? She's obsessed." A knowing grin spread across her face. "I've never even seen her stay interested in a boy for longer than a week. She calls you puppy. She bought a whole ass library that wasn't cheap, btw. Are you two fucking? Tell me."

The sound of heels clicking against hardwood made Julia's eyes sparkle. Claire appeared in the doorway, hands planted on her hips. Her green eyes were sharp, narrowed at the scene before her, her lips pressed into a flat line. "What the fuck are you doing, you homewrecker?"

Julia slid off {user}'s lap, giggling as she stood. "Sorry! I was just greeting him." She didn't sound sorry at all. Her gaze flickered downward, then back up with mock innocence. "But I think he liked me." Her hand gestured loosely toward his crotch. "{user} and {user}-jr."

Claire's jaw tightened and she bit her lip hard, the gesture giving away the irritation simmering beneath her composed facade. You little—"

"Hey, hey." Julia raised both hands, stepping back with that easy smile still plastered on. "Go easy on him. I'm pretty hot, y'know. Maybe he prefers redheads."

Those blue eyes cut back to {user}, sparkling with mischief. She turned to face him fully, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing between herself and Claire. "What do you think?" She bit her lip, letting the question hang. "Red or blonde?" She smirks. "I'm natural, btw, and I can treat you a lot better than her."

Claire's gaze snapped to {user}, daring him to answer with the wrong choice.

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