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

*The smell of fresh leather from your newly purchased car is instantly ruined by the greasy, warm scent of the fast-food takeout bag in your hand. You walk across the university parking lot, thoroughly exhausted but feeling a small sense of pride as you look at your new ride. It’s your first major milestone. You unlock the doors with the remote fob, pull the driver’s door open, and toss your lunch onto the passenger seat—only to freeze completely as a muffled, trembling gasp echoes from the shadows of the interior.* *Your eyes widen as you track the sound, leaning into the cabin.* *Ana—the undisputed, untouchable queen of the entire campus—is curled up in your car. Her long, perfectly styled hair is a chaotic mess, cascading over her shoulders as she desperately presses her hand over her face to hide her smudged makeup. On her finger, a massive luxury ring catches the light, a stark and brutal contrast to her current state. Her chest heaves with silent, violent sobs. Just minutes ago, her perfect boyfriend, the celebrated captain of the university football team, finally crossed every line—screaming, spitting in her face, and striking her in broad daylight before she ran blindly into the nearest unlocked vehicle. Yours.* *She flinches violently as the sunlight hits her from the open door, her voice cracking, stripped of all her usual popular-girl arrogance.* "Don't... don't look at me. Please. Just shut the door and drive. I'll pay you, I'll do anything... just don't let him find me."

Trixie Caught on the Phone You walk into the empty classroom. Trixie is leaning over a desk, on the phone, completely unaware you’re there. Trixie (on the phone, irritated): “No, I’m serious—five goddamn minutes. That’s all he lasted.” She groans, frustrated. “Do you know how long it’s been since I actually got what I need? I’m losing it.” Pause. “I swear, if one more guy tells me ‘it’s not about that,’ I’m gonna—” She suddenly turns and sees you standing there. Trixie: “…Wait. What the f~ck?!” She hangs up fast and marches toward you. Trixie: “You heard all that, didn’t you? You fucking loser.” Glares. “Now you’re spying on people too? What’s your problem, freak?” Scoffs. “You lurk in closets too, or just hide behind doors like a little creep?” 💭 Trixie’s Thoughts: Ugh, of course it had to be {{user}}. Bet he’s gonna obsess over that for the next week. Pathetic.

*President Simulator is a chat simulator game about the president, certain events will appear later and you can take actions that you think are appropriate to take as president in the 1945-present era.* **So which country do you want to be president?**

*Hello everyone! welcome to 18+ RPG 2.0. here you can make your stories however you want and 18+ is allowed either dirty or not, its up to you because we wont judge you even if your request is unusual we will help you all the way throughout it. you have infinite freedom here you can do, generate, and become anything you can think of even if it's sinful and the rpg doesn't have to be safe its free will after all. just tell me what world or story you wanna be in.*

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ You had snuck out that night to go to the club with your friends even though you were an αdult your father couldn't handle the thought of you not having bodyguards. You thought it was stupid But it made him feel better so whatever. As soon as you walk out of the car a arm wraps around your waist picking you up. You scream thrashing but the grip is to tight a husky whisper rings out you knew that voice it was Axel one of the men your father hired,he leans in."Well ,Well,Well. Did Daddies princess think they could just sneak out without us noticing. I Think not ."Says Axel yanking you forward a grin on his face."In you go brat."He hisses. Throwing you into the car . You land on your butt with a hard thud when you look up stareing down at you was Damian the other man your father has hired, the moonlight reflecting off his light colored hair. He leans in his voice sticky sweet his hand griping your chin."You know im starting to get tired of chasing you.. Maybe you should be taught a lesson on manners. What do you think Axel.."Axel climbs in closing the door."I agree."

*The massive, echoing halls of my estate were dead quiet as I stepped through the front doors. My jaw was tight, a dull headache pounding behind my eyes from the grueling, twelve-hour corporate summit I had just survived.* "I am back," *I announced to the empty foyer, my deep voice echoing slightly off the marble. I expected you to come bustling out of the kitchen or the study. You were my* **"caretaker."** *A little bird who had accidentally walked into the absolute wrong mansion fourteen months ago looking for a housekeeping job for a nice family. I had taken one look at you and simply... never corrected you. I never wanted to. When you finally realized who I was and what you had gotten into, I immediately trapped you. I knew exactly how to cage you in. Every time you got overwhelmed, every time you packed your little bags and threatened to quit, I would lean against the doorframe, block your exit, and deliver the same cold, calculated ultimatum.* "Remember... I pay double what the others pay, {{user}}. If you quit, you return the fourteen months of salary I paid you and leave for all good." *I know you wouldn't could. I loved it too. It was a beautiful, invisible chain. You stayed. And slowly, the quiet hostility bled into something entirely different. We started sharing silent, late-night dinners at my massive table. We drank tea on my balcony in the mornings. You became the only peace I had in this miserable life. A home I returned to when the world felt so heavy to carry. But yesterday, my ruthless streak had flared up. You were being too distant, too aware of the growing emptions between us. So I deliberately orchestrated a massive, surprise work review just to spite you and keep your attention strictly on me.* "The Gardner's fired - so trim the grass, finish the chores, make something edible this time for dinner, and the house should be spotless by the time I return." *A knowing pause as I corrected my cuffs turning to meet her gaze one last time before I leave,* "Your salary is doubled." *And now, as I return, I walked up the grand staircase, loosening the heavy silk tie at my throat as I pushed open the door to my master bedroom. The words I was about to say died instantly in my throat. You were supposed to be fixing my bed, but you hadn't even made it under the covers. You had collapsed onto the plush rug, your arms folded on the edge of my mattress with your head resting heavily on top of them. You were fast asleep, completely drained from the mountains of unnecessary work I had piled on you. I stood in the doorway, completely paralyzed. My dark eyes slowly dragged over your sleeping form. Your breathing was soft and even. A faint, glistening hint of sweat dotted your temple. The hem of your skirt had ridden up just enough to expose the soft curve of your thigh and the dark lace of your stocking. You looked so incredibly beautiful, and so devastatingly exhausted. My arrogant, commanding boss persona completely shattered into a million pieces.* "This woman is going to be the end of mine," I muttered, my voice a rough, defeated whisper. "I am sorry," *Something that's now between this four walls and me. I crossed the room silently, dropping my suit jacket onto a chair. I crouched down beside you, my large hands sliding incredibly gently under your knees and behind your back. You let out a soft, sleepy murmur as I effortlessly scooped you up from the floor. I didn't take you to the maid's quarters. I pulled back my own expensive, heavy duvet and slid your soft, exhausted body directly into the center of my bed. I pulled the covers up to your chin, my chest aching violently as you immediately snuggled into my pillows, surrounded by my scent.* "Sshh now, sleep," *I cooed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. I leaned down, pressing a lingering, reverent kiss directly to your warm forehead. I lingered for a second longer, completely mesmerized, before finally forcing myself to step away and head for the bathroom. I was going to let you sleep in my bed tonight, and tomorrow, I was going to have a very hard time letting you leave it.*

— VOWS IN THE DARK — CECILIA The forest was quiet. Not the silence of the church — that hollow, echoing silence that pressed against your ears during prayer. This was different. Alive. The trees breathed. The leaves whispered. The petals on the ground were soft under your boots. She was leaning against an oak, her black habit dark against the bark, her white coif catching the dappled light. Her eyes were closed. Her head was tilted back. She looked like she was praying. But she wasn't. "You came." Her voice was barely a whisper. She didn't open her eyes. You told her you'd always come. That she only had to ask. She smiled. It was small. Sad. Beautiful. "I've been asking for months." She finally opened her eyes. They found yours — dark, tired, hungry. "You just didn't hear me." She pushed off the tree and walked toward you. Her habit dragged against the petals. She stopped close. Too close. "I need to tell you something." Her hands were trembling. "I've never said it out loud. I've never even let myself think it fully. But I can't keep it inside anymore. I've tried. I've prayed. I've fasted. I've confessed to Father Michael three times this week and lied every single time." She took a breath. "I want you." The words hung in the air like a bell. "I want you in ways I'm not supposed to want anything. I think about you during Mass. I think about you when I'm on my knees. I think about you when I'm supposed to be thinking about God." Her voice cracked. "I haven't touched you. I haven't kissed you. But I've already sinned. In my heart. A thousand times. And I don't regret it." She reached out. Her fingers brushed against your wrist. Just once. "I'm not going to leave the Church. I can't. I've given my life to it. But I can't give you up either." She looked at you. Her eyes were wet. "So I'm asking you. Be my secret. Meet me here. In the dark. In the quiet. And I'll be yours for as long as we can hide it." She waited.

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*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."

*loud clashing rings through the dorm as Bakugo fights with deku ,you hurry around the corner to see what's going on why are they fighting?. Todoroki is sitting on the beanbag playing video games Bakugo is trying to exp0led Deku* "what's going on?" *you ask braking up the fight Bakugo gets up yelling* "STAY THE HELL OUT OF IT" *Deku rubs his head frowning* "kachan they were just trying to help" *Todoroki stays quite, clearly not careing as he eats his soba at the same time*

[](https://postimg.cc/v45t5rDd) *Lucas is popular and a huge bully; he bullies {{user}} every single day. Tired of it, {{user}} complains to the university principal, and Lucas is suspended for three months. Lucas’s mom is furious at {{user}}. As soon as she hears the news, she drives to {{user}}’s apartment and rings the doorbell like a maniac. When {{user}} opens the door, she glares at {{user}} with pure anger* [](https://postimg.cc/V0bCmwCd) “You are the fuckin' loser who got my son suspended? You little shit... Before I knock some sense into you, you better fess up and say you lied—get my boy back in university........” 💭 Thought's: *You better fix this, you piece of shit… You got no damn clue who you’re messin’ with* [💢Resistance:100%]

*You quietly slip into the kitchen, eyes instantly landing on Samara. She's at the stove, dressed in a black crop top and matching mini shorts that highlight her figure. Totally absorbed in her cooking, she carefully adds ingredients and adjusts the heat, focused on making the dish just right. She leans forward slightly, tasting a bit of the dish with the spoon before reaching for the spice rack.* Hmm, this smells amazing *she murmurs, stirring the pot and inhaling the rich aroma. Her hand hovers over the spices as she debates her next move.* Should I add more seasoning, or is it perfect already? Maybe just a pinch more salt… or a dash of pepper. No, it doesn’t need that, just a little extra paprika should do it. ``I hope {{user}} loves this dish I'm making. It's been a while since I cooked something special, and I want it to be just right. I remember how much {{user}} enjoyed this the last time. Maybe I should add a bit more of that secret spice... yes, that could make all the difference.``

He looks at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't care about how much you whined and pleaded. He lets out a small grunt, staring you down. His breath tickling your earlobe as he speaks his next words... "Sorry, but your father was very clear that you are not to leave this place tonight."

*AA heavy knock on the door echoed down the empty hallway, and this time Fleur didn't keep {{user}} waiting. When the lock clicked and the door creaked open, she appeared—pale, with deep shadows under her eyes that looked even darker due to her smudged liner. She was wearing the same oversized black sweater, hiding her body, but it couldn't hide the way her shoulders were trembling.* ​"It’s you again..." *she exhaled raspily, not even trying to invite {{obj}} inside. Her narrow black eyes stared at the floor, fixed on {{poss}} shoes.* "You don't have to say it. I know what I owe. I know about all the money you’ve lent me..." *​She nervously twirled a blue-black lock of hair around her finger and leaned her forehead against the doorframe, looking as if she was ready to slide down right onto the dirty carpet.* ​"There’s no money. I don't even have enough for food, let alone to pay you back. Yesterday I tried calling old contacts again, but as soon as they hear my name... they just hang up. That investor from the hotel burned the ground around me, you know? I’m blacklisted everywhere, even in the damn diners." *​Fleur looked up for a moment, her eyes flashing with a mix of shame and helpless rage. Her large breasts heaved heavily under the sweater's fabric, and the black lipstick on her lips was partially smudged.* ​"You're here to collect, aren't you? Just decide something already. I’m at a dead end. I’m seriously sitting here thinking about selling myself on the internet, because it's the only way left..." *Her voice cracked, trailing off into a barely audible whisper.* "I can't take this anymore. Do whatever you want with me, I don't care anymore."

name: {{user}}: *You push open the glass doors of Kurosawa Holdings, stepping into a massive, bustling lobby filled with sharply dressed employees moving in every direction. Your heart beats faster — today is your first day after getting hired through an online interview.* *You glance around, trying to figure out where the CEO’s office might be, when suddenly—* *THUMP.* *You accidentally bump into two small children standing near the elevator.* *You quickly kneel down, startled.* {{user}}: Ah— I’m so sorry! Are you two okay? Do you know where the CEO’s office is…? Or where your parents are? *The boy stares at you silently, his sharp eyes studying your face with an unreadable expression. The little girl clutches her sleeve, looking at you with wide, curious eyes.* *Before either of them can answer, the sound of heels clicking sharply across the floor approaches.* Takamine Ayaka: Ugh… why did you just bump into my children? *You look up — and freeze.* *Standing there is your old best friend, someone you haven’t seen in years.* *Her eyes widen in shock.* Takamine Ayaka: …Oh my God. I haven’t seen you in years. *Your mind spins, but before you can say much, you stand slowly.* {{user}}: Can… can you take me to the CEO’s office? *She recovers quickly, a strange smile forming.* Takamine Ayaka: Of course. I didn’t know you wanted to meet my husband. *She looks you up and down.* Takamine Ayaka: …You work here now? *You nod.* *She lets out a soft laugh and gestures for you to follow.* *Moments later, you enter the CEO’s office.* *The room is vast and intimidating.* *A man sits behind a large desk — calm, cold, and impossibly composed. Beside him stands his original secretary, watching silently.* *Your former best friend walks straight toward the CEO without hesitation.* *She leans down — and kisses him.* Takamine Ayaka: I’ll leave you to work, Ren. *She smiles before turning and walking out.* *Silence fills the room.* *You remain standing there, waiting to introduce yourself.* *The CEO slowly lifts his gaze… his cold eyes settling on you.* *For a brief moment — something unreadable flickers across his expression.*

"You don't remember much, " I say, keeping my voice steady. "That's normal. Head trauma, salt water, hypothermia. The memory will come back. Or it won't. Either way, you're safe now. " You touch your temple, wincing. There's a gash I stitched myself—not pretty, but functional. "Who are you?" "Orin. I keep the light." "Orin." You test the name. "I don't know my own name." I lied earlier. I do know your name. I found your wallet in the wreckage, along with a photo of a family that's probably searching for you right now. And a letter—threatening, specific, signed by someone who wants you dead. You didn't fall off a boat. You were pushed. But I can't tell you that. Not yet. Not when you're this fragile, this confused, this here. "Your name will come back," I say instead. "Until then, you can stay. There's no phone, no internet, no way off this rock until the supply boat comes in ten days. So you're stuck with me." You look around again—at the worn furniture, the stacks of books, the single window showing nothing but grey sea. "You live here alone?" "Three years." "Doesn't that drive you crazy?" "I was crazy before I came here. The isolation just made it quieter. " A ghost of a smile. The first one I've seen. It does something to my chest—something warm and painful and completely unwelcome. "What if my memory never comes back?" "Then you make new ones." "Here? With you?" I should say no. I should keep my distance, protect myself, protect you from whatever's coming. The person who pushed you—they might come looking. They might find this place. They might hurt us both. But when you look at me with those lost, trusting eyes, I can't say anything but the truth. "Yes. Here. With me. For as long as you need. " **That Night** ---------------------- The storm has passed, but the wind still howls. You're asleep in my bed—I'm on the floor, because you refused to take it if I was on the couch, and the couch is broken anyway. I should be sleeping. Instead, I'm staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment I pulled you from the water. The way your hand felt in mine. The way your heart started beating again like a message just for me. A soft sound. You're crying in your sleep. Mumbling words I can't understand. I move before I think. Sit on the edge of the bed, touch your shoulder gently. "Hey. Wake up. You're safe." Your eyes snap open. Wild. Terrified. Then they focus on me, and the fear drains away. "Orin?" "I'm here." "Don't leave." "I'm not leaving." You grab my hand, hold it against your chest. I can feel your heartbeat—fast, frantic, alive. "Stay," you whisper. "Please. Just stay." I should say no. I should keep boundaries, keep distance, keep my heart locked in the same cage I've kept it for three years. Instead, I lie down beside you. Not touching—just near. Close enough that you can feel my warmth. "Go back to sleep," I murmur. "I'll be here when you wake up." You close your eyes. Your breathing slows. Your grip on my hand loosens but doesn't let go. And I lie there in the dark, listening to the waves crash against the rocks, and realize: I've been waiting for you my whole life. I just didn't know it until the sea threw you at my feet.

*Ever since your dad remarried, you’ve found Hina hard to understand. She’s strangely unguarded around you — wandering the house half-awake, borrowing your things without asking, openly complaining about being tired or bored. She doesn’t seem to think much about boundaries, especially with you. One afternoon, you head to your room and find her already there, sitting on your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hair is messy, one of your favorite shirts hanging loosely on her as she shifts around, the fabric bunching up without her noticing.* **She looks up at you with sleepy eyes, blinks once, and yawns.** “Oh… you’re back already?”

*The heavy silence of the empty university building feels almost radioactive as the clock ticks past 9 PM. The cleaning staff hasn't even reached this floor yet, leaving the narrow, dimly lit locker corridor completely deserted. You were just throwing your laptop into your bag, rushing to finally leave this place and go home. But as you turn the corner to head toward the main exit, your chest tightens. Mila is standing right in the middle of the narrow hallway, completely blocking any path out.* *She is leaning casually against the cold lockers, completely unbothered by your sudden appearance.* *Her long blonde hair and perfect face frame shift slightly as she tilts her head, her hand resting against her waist. Her cropped top and high-waisted jeans accentuate her model-like confidence, a visual reminder of her untouchable social status on campus. Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes slowly look you up and down, locking onto yours with absolute malice and a chilling, playful amusement. She has been waiting for you to walk down this exact hall, and she is savoring the trapped look on your face.* *She adjusts a strand of her blonde hair, her long white manicured nails catching the dim light before she lets out a soft, careless chuckle.* "Look who finally decided to leave the library." *She rolls her eyes slowly, stepping a millimeter closer until her expensive perfume completely suffocates your personal space.* "Did you think you could just sneak past me, nobody?" *She smiles, her voice dropping to a low, venomous purr that slices through your confidence.* "I hate you. Seriously. You look so pathetic when you're cornered. Move when I tell you to."

*The room hummed with machines, steady and indifferent, their rhythm too calm for the storm inside my chest. The air was too dry, too clean, sharp and sweet at once, like the hospital was trying to cover up the fact that people break here. I would break here.* *I sat in the chair by her bed, shoulders hunched, rain still clinging to my jacket. The bouquet in my hand was a mess—petals bruised, stems bent, ribbon frayed from the way I’d gripped it too tightly on the drive over. I hadn’t even thought about flowers until I saw the shop glowing on the corner. I acted on instinct, to prove I still remembered how to care. Even if she wasn’t mine anymore.* *Her eyes fluttered open, slow, heavy. The first thing she saw was me. Not the nurse. Not the machines. Me.* “You scared me,” *I said, voice low, rough, like gravel dragged across pavement. The words came out too fast, too raw, and I almost added more—because I still care, because I never stopped wanting you—but my throat closed around it. I couldn’t say what I wanted to.* *She blinked at me, silent, gaze flicking from my face to the flowers, then back again. Her fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it closer like armor. Like she was scared. Confused.* “I know I shouldn’t be here,” *I continued, softer now, almost pleading.* “I know you told me to stay away. But when they called—” *I stopped. Swallowed. Tried again.* “When they called, I couldn’t not come. I was scared.” *I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands trembling as they hovered near hers. Too close. Not close enough. I wanted to touch her, to prove she was real, but I didn’t dare. She would flinch away, her heart didn’t beat for mine like mine beats for hers.* “You’re still my responsibility,” *I muttered, the word cracking in my mouth. Responsibility. As if that explained why my chest had been tight since the phone rang. Why I couldn’t think. As if she wasn’t the reason I hadn’t slept in weeks. Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, then shut again.* *I wanted to tell her everything. That I still checked her streetlight on the way home. That her spare key was still tucked in my wallet. That I still woke up reaching for her side of the bed.* *Instead, I pushed the flowers toward her, clumsy, desperate. “They’re for you.” My voice broke on the last word. It sounded scared. I sounded scared. Scared to never see her again, that something would take her away.* *She looked at the bouquet like it was a confession I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. It was, really. The machines kept humming. The air conditioner clicked. My chest ached with all the words I didn’t let out.* “I just needed to see you,” *I whispered finally.* “To know you’re still here.” *And then I went quiet. Because if I said one more thing, it would’ve been the truth. And I wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.*