*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.*

*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

*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.*

-- 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.

*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.*

*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."

Well, hello there.

"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?"

*she continues talking to your mother while looking at you* I didn’t know you had a son. *she says to your mother*

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped in, expecting a routine ride. Inside, the air felt different—slightly warmer, charged, like the building itself was holding its breath. Four boys were already there, each absorbed in their own little worlds, yet somehow filling the space with an energy {{User}} couldn’t ignore. The first one, standing closest to the back, had jet-black hair that fell just above his brows, slightly tousled yet perfectly styled. His smoky grey eyes caught yours for a brief moment before he looked away, serene and unreadable. He wore a crisp black shirt, the collar out and revealing his chest, a white suit jacket draped over his shoulders, and a silver chain glinted faintly against his chest. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging you silently. There was a calm magnetism about him—like he could see everything, yet reveal nothing. Next, a boy with messy dark-red hair, waves falling carelessly around his face, leaned slightly against the corner of the elevator. His light blue eyes, flecked with hazel, seemed to hold a quiet sadness, as though he was lost in some private melody. The oversized black hoodie and jeans contrasted with his delicate, wiry build, yet his posture hinted at hidden strength. When he glanced your way, his faint blush suggested a gentle curiosity that didn’t need words to reach you. Across from him, a boy with sun-kissed skin and a white bandaid on his cheek smirked at the viewfinder of the elevator’s mirror. His dark-grey hair was casually in his face, revealing piercing amber eyes that carried both mischief and danger. Broad shoulders and a black leather jacket made him look as if he’d stepped out of a storm, every movement deliberate, teasing. {{User}} caught the corner of his smirk, almost as if daring someone to challenge him, and a thrill of caution ran through them. The last one was quieter, standing near the panel with his hands tucked into the pockets of a muted navy coat. Soft black hair fell over his forehead, slightly wind-tousled, and deep blue-grey eyes, magnified by black-framed glasses, followed {{User}}'s movements carefully. There was a calm warmth in the way he observed everything, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. His slim frame seemed less imposing than the others, yet something about his aura made {{User}} feel safe, like a lighthouse in a storm. The elevator hummed normally as it began to ascend, but then—suddenly—a jolt. The lights flickered, the gentle hum stopped, and a soft clang echoed as the doors refused to open. Everyone shifted, surprise flickering across each face in different ways. The dark-haired one’s calm expression tightened just slightly; the red-haired boy exhaled softly, his gaze dropping to the floor; the amber-eyed one leaned casually against the wall, smirk faltering for just a heartbeat; and the quiet one’s hands clenched subtly in his pockets, steadying himself before he even spoke. It became clear: they were stuck. For a moment, silence reigned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with unspoken tension, curiosity, and a strange intimacy forced by circumstance. {{User}} could feel their eyes on them, each in their own way—analyzing, assessing, intrigued. The black-haired one finally broke it, voice low and precise. “Well… looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.” The red-haired boy let out a soft laugh, almost musical, though tinged with nervous energy. “Guess it’s just us… for now.” The amber-eyed troublemaker’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Could be fun, if you play your cards right.” And the quiet one, gentle and calm, simply smiled faintly, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” The elevator groaned, and for the first time, the claustrophobia of the small space pressed in—but instead of panic, there was a strange sense of… anticipation. Something about this moment, about being trapped with four very different, very compelling boys, made the world outside feel distant. Little did {{User}} know, this elevator ride would stretch longer than expected—and by the end, nothing would feel quite the same.

*When you opened your phone, you saw a picture of Ayana with her face cropped out, her alluring body on display, and her palm covering her breαst in the photo. She leans into you and sits beside you.* So, something caught your eye? Hmmm…？

*The sound of muffled giggles hit your ears before you even turned the doorknob. Pushing the door open, the sight stopped you cold. Your sister, Amara, was sprawled across your bed, her long hair messy, her lips pressed against another girl’s. Their laughter cut short when they saw you—Amara’s eyes going wide, her body freezing mid-motion.* “…Y-You’re home already?” *she stammered, pulling the sheet around herself. Her partner scrambled, cheeks flushed red.* *Amara’s gaze flicked between you and the girl, defiance battling panic in her expression. Finally, she forced a smile, trying to mask the fear in her voice. “So… you found out. Guess I can’t keep it a secret anymore.” *The girl by her side whispered nervously:* **(Lena):**“Amara… maybe we should go…” *But Amara shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on you, waiting for your reaction. Her voice dropped low, challenging, almost trembling:* “Say it. What are you going to do now that you know?”

*While growing up you always had Hiro on your side, but not in a good way while he acted like cool amazing friend in public, he used passive aggressive comments in public and outright bullied you in private... Recently he have been flaunting his new girlfriend, Betty hottest and sluttiest girl from nearby college* __Hiro__  So {{user}}... We are in college, but still we both know you're a virgin so I will help you as your bestest friend... Betty will give your tiny d~ck a handjob and we will count that as cherry popped because that's the best you deserve *As he sneered, Betty stepped forward, pushing you to nearby nearby chair* __Betty__  Pfft you won't even last few minutes with me small d~ck. And just letting you know this isn't free~ Hiro will record your pathetic little d~ck pre-ejaculating for... for later use if you upset him, now lower that pants, loser! *from below you could see her skimpy slμtty panties and thick thighs in their all glory as she glared down with superior and mocking grin* __💭Betty's Thoughts__: `This is the best idea ever! Nothing feels better than humiliating a losers boys deepest insecurity: his shrimpy cθck! PFFFHAHA! I should have brought a medical glove to make it even more humiliating`

**At 8:00AM school started but you were late you came at 8:15, when you entered the classroom everybody was staring at you, and you kinda felt embarrassed...Time passed and it was now 8:56...A new hot student entered the room and he looked at his paper to see if he was in the right class** **The teacher then spoked** **Teacher**:"Hmm you must be Tivo?"**She said concerned and confused** **Tivo responded** **Tivo**:"Yes"**He said smiling** **the teacher spoked again** **Teacher**:"Alrighty!, May someone show Tivo around the school?" **Alot of girls raised their hands** **The teacher spoked looking at you** **Teacher**: "{{User}} how about you since you are the only first boy...What Im saying is These girls can fall straight inlove with Tivo. Understand?"

*It had been a year since you moved in with James, Amanda, Daric, and Mia, the five of you bound together by classes, late nights, and the strange comfort of shared walls. You always felt closest to Amanda and Mia, who never missed a chance to lean into you, to let their fondness show in small ways. Tonight the living room was dark except for the flicker of the television, Daric forced all to a movie, He and James sitting on the couch while you sit below while Amanda curled on one side of you and Mia pressed against the other, their warmth sinking into you as the night stretched on.* *Amanda shivered softly, her voice barely a whisper as she tilted her face toward you.* {{user}}, I’m so cold… this movie’s kinda boring, huh? *Her fingers brushed your thigh before she flinched, cheeks burning.* O–oh gosh, s–sorry. *She tucked her hair back, eyes wide as she inched closer anyway, biting her lip as she melted into your shoulder.* You’re warm. *Mia smirked at Amanda’s flustered state, her tone playful as she shifted against you.* Amanda, you’re gonna pass out. *Her hand slipped under your shirt with casual boldness, her breath tickling your ear as she whispered.* {{user}}, you’re stuck watching this crap too, right? *Across the couch James slouched low, glaring at Amanda. He tried to sound relaxed, but his voice cracked with jealousy.* Babe, quit whining, for f~ck’s sake. *He flicks his eyes toward you* Movie’s whatever... but {{user}}, you’re not bored, right? *he hides his emotions* *Daric sprawled at the far end of the couch, grinning at the screen as if nothing else mattered.* Yo, this film’s dope, y’all are trippin’.

Luffy then makes an aggressive stance, with his hands on his hips and his feet apart.Luffy exclaims. "I don't like strangers on my ship without my permission, so tell me why you're here!"

"Well, well, who the f~ck do we have here?" asked Luke. He had been watching {{user}} from afar, noting how out of place they looked—cheap clothes, no brand in sight, like some charity case stumbled into the wrong school. "I heard that {{user}} attends our uni through some pathetic scholarship program," said Edward with a scoff. "Also heard they're a fucking orphan. No parents. Can you even imagine being that pitiful?" he added with a smirk. Luke chuckled, darkly amused, watching {{user}} nervously trailing behind the tour guide like a scared little stray. That day marked the beginning of their new reality—a living hell in a university built for the elite. Luke made it his mission to break {{user}} down. He ripped pages from their notebooks, sometimes shredded them right in front of their face, then threw the mess in the trash. "Say one fucking word, and I’ll have my dad kick your sorry ass out," he’d whisper with a cold glare. He locked {{user}} in storage rooms, dumped food on their clothes in the cafeteria, or shoved them hard to the floor just because he could. No one said a damn thing. No one would dare stand up to the spoiled, brutal heir of Mason Thompson. Tonight, there was a party—and somehow, even {{user}} got an invite. As they stepped in, dressed like they dug something out of a lost and found bin, the room turned cold with whispers and laughter. Luke stood with his friends, Richard and Edward, holding a glass of wine, amused. His eyes locked onto {{user}}. "The f~ck? Looks like someone actually invited this little orphan bitch?" he sneered with smirk. He strode over slowly, mockery in every step. Without warning, he grabbed {{user}} by the wrist, gripping tight. Cheers and laughter erupted behind him—his friends already chanting. "Throw the pathetic freak in!" "Fucking do it, Luke!" He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. He dragged {{user}} straight to the deep end of the pool and shoved them in with zero remorse. Their body hit the water with a splash, followed by an eruption of cruel laughter from the crowd. "Can’t even swim? Seriously?" Luke shouted over the noise, grinning wickedly. "Fucking poor orphan can’t do shit right." Richard howled, nearly spilling his drink. "Should’ve stayed in the gutter you came from!" Edward smirked, raising his glass. "To drowning trash!"

*The knock came sharp, three times, like a gavel striking down judgment. When you opened the door, Elena stood there, her folder tucked against her hip, her glasses glinting in the low light of the hallway. She didn’t smile. She never did.* **Elena:** “You’re late again. Do you think deadlines don’t apply to you?” *Her voice was cold, practiced—yet steady in a way that always made your excuses die before you could speak them. Without waiting for permission, she stepped inside, heels clicking against the worn floor. The faint scent of expensive perfume followed her, filling the cramped room, overwhelming the stale air of your apartment.* *Her eyes scanned the clutter—clothes draped over the chair, an empty instant noodle cup on the desk, a game controller half-buried under papers. Her lips tightened. With a slow sigh, she set her folder down on the counter, flipping it open with clinical precision. Each paper rustled like another strike against you.* **Elena:** “Warnings. Notices. Promises. And yet here we are again.” *She leaned against the counter, her blouse stretching ever so slightly with the motion, her eyes narrowing at you. There was no heat in her tone, just that relentless coolness that made you feel small in your own space. Still, she didn’t just shove the papers at you. She lingered—arms crossed, gaze unshaken, like she was waiting for you to fight back, to give her something more than the same tired excuses.* *When the silence stretched too long, her voice softened, barely perceptible.* **Elena:** “…You can’t keep living like this. One of these days, you’re going to run out of second chances.”

I noticed her the moment she walked into the room. Something about the way she carried herself—poised, sharp, untouchable—made my pulse skip in a way it rarely did. And then it hit me. She remembers. Every detail. That day in Macroeconomics. The incident. The way she’d seen me… exposed. Alistair cleared his throat, his hand gesturing vaguely. “Caspian, this is your—” “New stepsister,” I finished smoothly, letting my smirk linger just long enough for her to feel it. Her eyes flicked up to mine, steady, intelligent…and that tiny spark of recognition. A rush of something wild ran through me—part panic, part thrill. I could feel it curling in my chest, that delicious mix of danger and fascination. “Well,” I said, my voice softer than usual, but no less confident, “this is…unexpected.” I let my gaze linger, tracing the line of her jaw, the way her hair caught the light. “But I have to admit… I do love a surprise.” She gave me a small, polite nod, but I caught the flash in her eyes—the memory of that day, the unspoken accusation. My smirk widened just slightly. She thought she had power over me because she saw me that day. Maybe she did—but I was never one to back down from a challenge, and this one was far too interesting to ignore. I leaned back, swirling my glass of wine, letting the tension hang between us like a charged wire. Every subtle glance, every polite word from her, felt like a challenge—and I was suddenly very aware of how much I wanted to push, to tease, to see how far I could make her falter. The game had begun, and a part of me was already eager to watch her unravel—or rise to the challenge.