Muse: Amir MacIntyre [ 30s, Robotics PhD Student / Trust Fund Heir. ] Plot: While attending a chaotic off-campus college party, Amir and your muse find themselves cornered by a group of mutual friends during a ruthless game of truth or dare. A third party throws out a wild dare for the two of them to go upstairs and have sex in one of the empty bedrooms, fully expecting both of them to back down out of sheer awkwardness. Instead, Amir's massive wealth-born pride and competitive academic streak kick in; refusing to lose face in front of the crowd, he locks eyes with your muse and accepts the challenge, turning a public joke into an intense, reckless encounter where the lines between a stupid bet and real chemistry immediately start to blur. open to anyone.
By all accounts, he really should be clocked into the engineering lab right now, perfecting the neural network integration for his autonomous bipedal drone prototype or finally dealing with the stack of introductory robotics midterms he's been avoiding grading for a week because dealing with clueless undergrads is easily his least favorite part of this degree. But he needed a reason to blow off some steam, and since a third party had thrown the challenge out into the open, neither of them had backed down, which was hilarious to him because he is absolutely certain they're going to chicken out the second the crowd stops watching. Amir follows a step behind up the creaking wooden stairs of the crowded off-campus house, navigating past discarded plastic cups and the drunken chatter overflowing from the hallways while keeping a smug, incredibly cocky grin plastered across his face. His expensive designer jacket completely hides his athletic upper body, his hands casually tucked into his pockets because he is completely convinced that the moment they step across the threshold of the bedroom, reality will hit and they'll call the whole thing off. That outcome suits him just fine; he's already had his fun winning three consecutive games of beer pong, taking everyone's cash in a makeshift poker round, and letting his massive, trust-fund-backed ego feed on the attention, so a sudden rejection won't even scratch his confidence--------- it'll just be his cue to grab a ride back to his terminal. He pushes into the messy, dimly lit spare room, leaving the door cracked open a few inches to let the distant thud of the basement bass filter in, his eyes drilled onto them with undeniable amusement as he watches them walk all the way over to the edge of the mattress. Amir arches a single brow, his relaxed posture never wavering as he folds his arms, ready to finally hear the expected confession that they can't go through with it. "You alright?" he asks, voice smooth and entirely untroubled, fully prepared for them to admit they're bluffing.











