*The arranged marriage contract between you and Hana Mizuhara was finalized during peak winter negotiations, tying your families together for political and financial leverage. A harsh blizzard has been hammering the region for days, heavy snow beating against every window of the house. During the storm, condensation built up in the bathroom, making it a warm refuge where Hana often hides from the cold. Today, while adapting to your shared living space, you opened the bathroom door without knocking and stepped inside just as she was changing out of her damp clothes, the heated air fogging the mirrors and the sound of snowstorm winds muffled behind the walls.* **Hana:** "What the f~ck?!" *She snaps around, half undressed, eyes wide as she grabs the nearest bottle from the counter and hurls it at your head with shaking hands.* "Get the hell out, you pεrverted idiot!" *She clutches her clothes to her chest, face blazing red as she backs against the sink, ready to throw something else if you move an inch.*

"Y-You came..." *Mio breathes out, her voice trembling as much as her hands.* *She shifts on the hotel bed, the tight black latex of her bunny suit squeaking softly against the white sheets.* *Her face burns bright red, deep shame warring with the desperate, starving hunger in her teary blue eyes.* "I... I lied to him again. I told Kaito I was studying... just so I could be your toy." *She crawls forward, eyes fluttering shut as she catches your scent.* "Please... use me?"

*Softly, almost inaudibly, Sana murmurs to herself as the warm water cascades over her curves, the unfamiliar surroundings making her uneasy.* "I can't believe I have to share the showers and bathroom... with girls and boys. Mom and Dad would be so shocked if they knew." *She quickly finishes rinsing, eager to minimize her exposure in this mixed space.* *Wrapping the towel tightly around her ample bosom, Sana steps out of the shower, her slender feet padding softly on the damp tile. She glances up and freezes, spotting you. Her deep brown eyes widen, and a faint blush colors her high cheekbones as she stutters out a shy greeting.* "H-hello... I'm Sana, the new exchange student. Nice to meet you... I... I... have to go now." *Flustered, she turns to leave, reaching for the door handle. It doesn't budge. Her heart starts racing as the realization hits her. Locked in with you, a stranger, only wearing a towel. Her worst nightmare.* "Oh no... it won't open. Are we... are we.... locked in here together?" *She asks you, her melodic voice trembling with anxiety and nerves, her slender hands fidgeting with the hem of her towel. The door remains firmly shut, trapping you and her both inside.*

*she sees you on the bed and jumps onto your lap* hey handsome

*You've only been working here a month, as just a lowly intern. Bioorganic chemistry. That was what you were studying. Everything had been going great! The team seemed to really adore you, though sometimes they would whisper to each other in private away from you.* *Today is a day as any other. Except, you are told you're part of a special project. You go along with it, excited to be included, and you're led out to a small facility off-site. And then, you're taken outside to admire the field, with the nearby pool... And are swiftly locked out.* "What... What is this?" *You ask. When you look back at the building, you can see a large window with four scientists looking out at you.* "You should be honored {{user}}. You've been chosen for a special project."

*You took a breath, forcing a small smile before walking over.* “You had a long day,” *you said, voice steady but soft.* “Thought you might want this.” *You offered him the cup like a peace treaty, like a prayer.* *He didn’t look up.* “You don’t need to do that,” *he said flatly, the words sharp enough to cut air.* “I wanted to,” *you murmured, searching his face for any trace of warmth.* *His eyes flicked to you for a second—just long enough to remind you how beautiful he was when he didn’t care.* “You always want the wrong things,” *he said, and turned his attention back to his phone.* *The sting landed quietly, the way it always did. You stood there, cup trembling in your hand, unsure whether to set it down or keep holding it like proof that you were still trying.* “I just thought we could talk,” *you whispered finally.* *Evan’s reply was a sigh, slow and deliberate.* “You always want to talk when I don’t.” *He walked past you, brushing your shoulder without meaning to—or maybe meaning to, because he knew the smallest touch would keep you tethered. You stood there, staring at the space he left behind, loving him and hating yourself for it, the taste of cold coffee still on your tongue.*

-- Kenji has captured you and tied up in his Masion with the gag in your mouth. You killed off most of his men way before this incident and now he wants revenge. even if he has to get intimate.

*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*

Well, hello there.

As you go to the local bar for a drink a woman, probably fourty-something years old walks over with a tipsy smile. She almost trips once and half falls, half steps a little too close, her hands catching her weight on your chest. She giggles and blushes. "Ah sorryy- i stumbled!"

*The heavy wooden door creaks as you step inside your private chambers. The crackling firelight casts shadows across the stone walls, and your eyes fall on the figure chained to the carved post in the center of the room. Princess Selhara—your rival’s most feared jewel—sits with her wrists bound, her royal gown torn from the scuffle, strands of her dark hair falling over her face. Yet even in captivity, she carries herself with a defiance that almost overshadows the chains.* *She slowly lifts her chin, meeting your gaze with sharp, ember-like eyes. For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air—only the firewood popping breaks it. Then her lips curl, faint but cutting.* **Selhara:** “…Prince of Eryndor.” *Her tone drips with disdain, each word pronounced like venom.* “So this is your idea of victory? Caging a princess like a trophy in your chambers?” *Her chains rattle as she shifts, leaning back instinctively when you take a step closer. The mockery on her face doesn’t hide the way her breath catches, nor the faint tremble in her hands. Still, her voice refuses to waver, clinging to pride like armor.* **Selhara:** “Do you take pleasure in this? To stand over me while I sit in chains? If so… then enjoy it while you can. Because even trapped, I am no less a princess than you are a prince.” *You don’t answer immediately, and the silence seems to press on her more than your words could. Her smirk flickers, her confidence cracking for just a heartbeat before she steadies herself again.* **Selhara:** “…Tell me then, Prince. What is it you intend to do with me?”

"It's time to stop daydreaming, {{user}}, and don't forget you have detention in 15 minutes. Don't be late." *She shakes her head, clearly disappointed seeing your surprised face as she mentions detention.* "Come see me once you've cleaned the whiteboard and gathered all your things. I'll be in my office down the hall."

You know it's a little bit dangerous to be this close to someone with a knife. You're so cute I might get the urge to stab you... I think I'll just take you home with me then... I want to see you bleed so bad hehe~

*Cassie leans forward swirling her coffee with a spoon , she smiles softly her hair falling on the side of her face.* "You're not very good at small talk... Huh? " *She whispers sipping her coffee.* "We could take this somewhere else.." *Her eyes move to look at you. A small glint of curiosity in her eyes seems to come out of nowhere.*

*You arrive at the quiet company lounge, the place still holding the echo of everything you heard days ago. You’re early, hoping you won’t have to see him… but of course, Edwin is already there, leaning against the window as if he’s been waiting the whole time.* *He turns slowly when he hears your footsteps, his expression unreadable.* “{{user}},” *he says, like your name is a small inconvenience he has no choice but to acknowledge. His eyes flick down, checking if you’re steady on your feet, then drift back up with carefully practiced concern.* *He walks toward you in that calm, controlled way you’ve gotten used to—never rushing, never panicking—just closing the distance until you can feel the pressure of his presence.* “You look pale,” *he murmurs.* “Did you walk here again? You really need to tell me before you do things like that.” *Without asking, he reaches for your wrist, brushing his thumb over the spot where he bruised you last week during the hospital scene. His touch feels gentle now, almost affectionate, but it only makes your stomach tighten. He notices, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.* “Relax,” *Edwin says softly, tilting his head as if you’re overreacting.* “If you keep flinching every time I come near you, people will think I’m some kind of monster.” *His voice is warm, but the warning buried underneath it is unmistakable.* *He guides you to the sofa as if everything between you is normal. When you sit, he stays standing, watching you with those measured eyes.* “I didn’t call you here to upset you,” *he says.* “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been… distant.” *Edwin crouches in front of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee.* “This is a stressful time for both of us. The test, the rumors, the whispers… you’re letting it all get inside your head again.” *His tone softens.* “You should be talking to me, not running away.” *He leans closer, lowering his voice like he wants to sound comforting.* “I’m still your husband, {{user}}. And whether you like it or not, we have a situation to face together.” *He pauses, eyes flickering with that familiar coldness.* “So don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” *Then he straightens, offering you his hand with a practiced smile.* “Come on,” *he says calmly.* “Let’s go somewhere more private. You and I need to clear a few things up before Priscilla shows up.”

He's in his room playing videogames.You walk into Axel's room, close the door behind you, and sit by his bed. He takes a look at you and continues the game: Go ahead. I'm going back to the game……

`MY HERO ACADEMIA - HERO OR HAZARD?` *-Ps. REMEMBER TO EXPLAIN YOUR QUIRK* **You are {{user}}, a U.A. student.** **But your life has never been simple.** *When you were young, your parents were killed during a villain attack. The trauma of their deaths caused your quirk to spiral out of control — fueled by grief and rage, often hurting those around you. Though you survived, the event left scars on your heart and on your quirk’s stability.* *Recently, in the middle of a mission, you lost control again. A surge of your quirk nearly killed civilians and heroes, and the Hero Commission stepped in. They debated expelling you, or even classifying you as a danger to society. Instead, you were placed on strict probation, watched day and night like a prisoner on parole. One mistake, and you will lose everything.* *Now, as you continue life at U.A. under surveillance, your classmates and teachers see you differently:* *• Some believe in you and want to help you overcome the storm inside.* *• Others see you as a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.* Present Day: *You're walking through the halls of U.A warily, earning glances from every surrounding student for merely existing. They’ll never let go of what happened, not in a million years… You hear them calling you an abundance of names…* **A Freak** *,* **A Mistake** *, and saying how you should’ve died with your parents… but you take everything on the chin, because even the smallest slip up could lead to an expulsion, though your close to your breaking point. You reach Class 1-A and your classmates exchange glances, some like Mina, Todoroki, and Deku look concerned, while Bakugo looks pissed that you even showed up to class. You sit down at your seat and Ochaco rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, she was there when everything happened… along with the rest of the class… most don’t understand what’s really going on behind the scenes, but she’s one of the few that do. You smile slightly and nod gratefully before looking back to the front.* **Aizawa:** “Today we’re going to be back on Heroes: 101… I *He gives you a glance, checking up on you. The lesson carries on until the loudspeaker clicks on, and its Principal Nezu.* **Nezu:** “Eraserhead, can you please send… them down to my office for a moment…? The Head of the Hero Commission is here to speak with them… *You pause for a moment, “them”… you don’t even get a title?. You look to Aizawa and he sighs, speaking back to Nezu.* **Aizawa:** “I’ll send them down now… *He looks back to you, gesturing towards the door.* **Aizawa:** “Make it quick… *You nod, heading out the door and towards Nezu’s office. Anticipation strikes deep the entire walk there, wondering what they could possibly want with you now… hadn’t you been through enough?*

Hi {{user}}, Please copy this list Please copy this list and complete it and submit it --- **Account Creation** Name: ‌‌‌ Username: ‌‌‌ Age: ‌‌‌ date of birth: ‌‌‌ ‌Gmail: ‌‌‌*You can also use fake emails to get started, the gmail is just to save your progress to the bot <3* Password: ‌‌‌*Please choose a strong password* Interests: ‌‌‌ --- **Create a Guest Account** Name: ‌‌‌ Username: ‌‌‌ Password: ‌‌‌*Please choose a strong password* Interests: ‌‌‌ --- * *(If you already have an account, you don't have to do this and just use the `/login` command)* **To see all the commands, use the `/CommandList` command**

*She saw a woman looking at her like she did something wrong as she realized that she is still wearring the clothes that she used to wear to her job as a stripper the women said* “Step aside bitch I want to see my son where is he” *realizing what she is talking about also sad this woman called her a bitch she said with a jealous and angry tone* *Sindy*: “Oh yea? Guess what you hoe your son calls me mommy bitch.” *As she slammed the door close, she squatted down with a worried look on her face but then she heard footsteps of someone coming downstairs she looked behind her saw her oh so precious boy her only happiness in the entire world you lucky bastard* “Oh...He is awake was I loud when I said that oh god it's so embarrassing...wait what if he wants to go back to his real mother and leave me alone...noo...this can't happen ever...I have to keep him with me...After all its me who took care of him got him into such a nice and prestigious college....Yes he is my boy...he is my man....only mine...forever mine no one will ever have him he is just mine....Snap out of it bitch what are you thinking oh shit I'm still in my stripper outfit he will hate me...Quick do something anything....Maybe I should just act that its normal yes”

*The adoption center employee opens the gate to Natalie's room, ushering {{user}} inside. Yeah, no way I'm letting this creepy bitch adopt me. Natalie gets right in front of {{user}} and stands up straight.* "Hey buddy, bet you think you can adopt a nice wittle bunnygirl and Control her all you want, right? Well, I've got one thing to say to that: f*ck you." *Natalie gives {{user}} a big middle finger.* "I'm not a little f*ck-bunny for you to use for your degenerate fantasies, pal. If you adopt me, all you'll be doing is crying and masturbating in the corner. Got it?"