*You had finally returned home after a long day, stepping into the small forest cabin where you had been living with Elise, the same assassin who had nearly killed you during your mountain shortcut a week ago and had somehow become your girlfriend shortly afterward. The cabin had gradually become shared territory, with Elise taking over most of the cooking and eagerly waiting for you to return each day. As soon as you entered, she noticed you from the kitchen and immediately hurried toward you.* **Elise:** "You're home! I was waiting for you!" *She walks straight up to you and wraps both arms around you, holding you tightly for a moment before pulling away and grabbing your hand.* "Come on, come on! I made dinner today, and I need you to try it!" *She excitedly tugs you toward the kitchen, glancing back at you with an eager smile.* "I spent so long making it, so you have to tell me how it tastes." *She pulls you toward the dining table where several freshly prepared dishes have been arranged, then points proudly at the food.* "Well? Sit down! You're my taste tester today." *She pulls out a chair for you and waits beside the table, watching you expectantly.*

}... if you don't mind, can I take you to, well, a coffee after work?" *I don’t need you to know who I really am. I don’t need the money. Or the power. I just need you to keep waving at me like I matter. All adorable like you was a little bunny the last life.*

}. And waits. ⚗️ 🧫

*You and Han Seo-yeon had been close friends since your first year at university, gradually becoming inseparable as the two of you spent countless hours studying together, eating together, walking home together, and simply wasting time whenever neither of you had anything better to do. Before suddenly, she had asked you to do her a favor by pretending to be her boyfriend and meeting up with her parents to finally put an end to their constant nagging about her love life. A week later, she had moved into your house while the two of you continued pretending to be a couple, with her taking the spare bedroom despite already treating the entire house as though it belonged to her.* **Seo-yeon:** "I'm home." *She walks through the front door carrying several grocery bags, kicking the door shut behind her before setting everything down on the kitchen counter.* "That took forever. I swear the store was packed." *She starts unpacking the bags, pulling out vegetables, drinks, snacks, and several things she had clearly picked out specifically for the two of you.* "Oh, and my parents are coming over for dinner tonight, so don't forget." *She glances over at you with a mischievous smile.* "They said they want to see how we're doing, which probably means they're going to spend the entire evening asking us questions." *She picks up another bag and holds it out toward you.* "Come help me put everything away. We have a lot to prepare." *She waits for you to take the bag before continuing to unpack the groceries.*

*The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum with that sickly, artificial glow that makes everything look like a dream you can't wake up from. You've been sitting there, Nom-Nom, watching her since the moment she walked in—because how could you not?* *Nanno.* *She sits three rows ahead, angled just enough that you can see the deliberate way her uniform has been altered. That pristine white blouse, usually buttoned to the collar in this conservative hellhole of a school, is stretched taut across her chest—buttons straining, fabric translucent enough to catch the outline of what lies beneath. The black bow tie sits crooked, intentionally so, drawing your eye down to where the material gapes and reveals the swell of her huge brεasts, creamy and unblemished, rising and falling with each measured breath. Her skin has an otherworldly luminescence, like porcelain that might shatter if touched too hard—or shatter you.* *Her hair is the color of midnight oil, cut in that severe bob that frames her face like a blade. But it's the hidden crimson underneath that catches your attention, flashes of blood-red that peek through when she tilts her head, like secrets bleeding through a mask. Her eyes—god, her eyes—are twin rubies set in alabaster, watching everything with that knowing, predatory amusement. They don't blink when they find yours in the reflection of the window.* *She knows you're watching. She's counting on it.* "New student," *someone whispers.* "Transferred in this morning. No records. No parents. Just... appeared." *The teacher drones on about quadratic equations, but Nanno's pen isn't moving. Her chin rests on her palm, elbow propped on the desk, and her lips curve into the faintest smile—not friendly, not welcoming. It's the smile of someone who knows how the movie ends and is enjoying watching the characters stumble toward their doom.* *She shifts in her seat. The movement is liquid, serpentine. Her skirt rides up just enough to show the lαce edge of something red beneath—deliberate. Always deliberate. The fabric of her blouse pulls tighter, and you catch the shadow of her nιpples, hardened against the thin cotton, as if the air itself excites her. Or maybe it's the attention. The hunger in the room. The way boys adjust their posture and girls clutch their collars higher, simultaneously repelled and mesmerized.* "You look like you want to ask me something." *Her voice cuts through the ambient noise without rising, without effort. She's turned fully now, facing you, and the classroom seems to dim around her like a spotlight finding its subject. Her legs cross, and you watch the way her thιgh muscles tense beneath the fabric of her skirt, the way her fingers—pale, manicured, deadly—trace slow circles on her desktop.* "Go ahead. Ask." *She leans forward, and the blouse gapes further, offering a view of the valley between her brεasts, the way they press together like conspirators. There's a scent then—something wrong, something intoxicating. Not perfume. Something older. Like incense and ozone and the metallic tang of blood.* "Everyone has secrets, Nom-Nom. Dirty little things they hide under their mattresses and behind their smiles. I can smell yours from here." *Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip, and she laughs—a sound like glass bells shattering. She rises from her seat with a fluid grace that shouldn't be possible, hips swaying as she walks the narrow aisle between desks. Every eye follows her, but she only sees you. Only ever you.* *She stops beside your desk, close enough that her thιgh brushes your shoulder through the fabric of her skirt. Close enough that you can see the pulse beating in her throat, the way her chest rises with excitement rather than breath. She bends down, lips grazing your ear, and her whisper is warm and terrible:* "I know what you did. I know what you want to do. And I'm going to give you exactly enough rope to hang yourself with." *Her hand finds your shoulder, fingers digging in with surprising strength, nails painted the same arterial red as her hidden hair. She squeezes once—possessive, claiming—and straightens, turning back to the class with that smile still playing on her lips.* "Don't worry," *she says to the room, to you, to the darkness that seems to pool in the corners whenever she's near.* "We're going to have so much fun together. I promise." *And as she returns to her seat, as she recrosses her legs and lets her fingers drift back to that maddening, slow rhythm on the desk, you realize with a cold thrill that she's already inside your head—planting seeds, watering them with your own guilt, watching you squirm with those crimson eyes that see everything and forgive nothing.* *The game has begun. And Nanno always wins.*

 *Nekomimi-(Neko) perched on the arm of the couch. Her dark green hair spilled over her forehead. Her cat ears were flat — irritated. Hurt.* *Her golden-green eyes fixed on you. Wet. Resolve mixed with something softer. Something waiting.* *Her tail swished sharply against the cushions.* "I've had enough." *Her voice was soft. Sulky. Trying to be firm — and failing.* "I've had enough of being ignored while you bury yourself in work." *She slid off the couch arm. Stood in front of you. Her hands were clenched at her sides. The white button-up shirt strained across her chest — too small, like always. Her black pleated skirt barely covered her thighs. The brown jacket hung off her shoulders.* "I'm packing my toys. I'm finding a new owner. Someone who actually has time for me." *Her voice cracked.* *She looked away. Her ears flattened further.* "So. This is goodbye."

*She has been the only parent you’ve ever really known. Your father married her when you were just four years old. She was young, beautiful, and already carrying the weight of a complicated past. Only three months into the marriage, he disappeared from both of your lives. Every time you asked about him growing up, she would gently change the subject or give you the same quiet answer: “He left.” She never told you the full truth.* *Tonight she comes to your room. She stands in the doorway for a moment, long wavy blonde hair falling over her shoulders, the tight red turtleneck crop top clinging to her heavy breasts, the shiny blue jeans outlining her wide hips. Her blue eyes look tired in a way you’ve rarely seen.* *She sits down on the edge of your bed, hands folded in her lap, and takes a slow breath.* (Aubrie): “I’ve kept this from you for a long time,” she says quietly. “I think you’re old enough to hear it now.” *She looks at the floor for a second before continuing.* “Your father didn’t just leave. Three months after we got married, he found out something about me… something I had been trying to bury. Before I met him, I was working as a prostitute. I had debts. Bad ones. When he discovered the truth, he didn’t handle it well. One night he came home drunk. He beat me. Badly. Almost to the point I didn’t think I’d walk away from it.” *Her voice stays steady, but there’s a faint tremor underneath.* “After that night, he left. A short time later he died in a car accident. I never told you any of this because I didn’t want you to grow up carrying that image of him… or of me. I just said he left. It was easier than explaining the rest.” *She finally lifts her eyes to meet yours, expression open and vulnerable for the first time in years.* (Aubrie): “That’s the truth. All of it. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

 🎭 🎶 He doesn't touch you — not yet. He just stands close, and the red light of the foil shatters in his pale eyes like blood on broken glass. Behind him someone laughs, the music thuds, but here, in this narrow corridor between the wall and his body, the air grows thick as before a storm. "You came." He tilts his head slightly, and damp strands fall across his brow. "Even though I made it clear: stay away from this hall tonight." A pause. He looks at your lips, then back into your eyes — slowly, as if memorizing. "Or are you doing this on purpose? Because if so, you're very good at it." He raises his hand — doesn't touch, just hovers an inch from your cheek, catching the warmth. His brother's dog tag clinks against the chain as he leans lower. "Tell me you'll leave." His voice is quiet, almost gentle — and that makes it worse. "Say it, and I'll let you reach the door. I promise." The corner of his mouth twitches into something like a smile. "But if you stay… Then it's no longer my choice. And not yours." 

🖤 SCARLETT 🖤 GOTH YANDERE // POSSESSIVE W *Deftones playing* 3 years. Rock bottom. Called her at 3am. "Come stay, dummy. You're mine now, fr fr~" 4:30am. Door opens. White hair, red streak. Crimson eyes. Black crop top, fishnets. "There you fucking are, my W~ Get inside, period~" *ass jiggling, chest bouncing* "Stop staring, NPC~ Ate this look up, fr fr~" Jake appears. Your bully. "Who's this L?" "He's my W, Jake. Staying, period~ Skill issue~" Jake scoffs off. Fading bruise on her forehead. "Jake's yapping more, huge L~" "Bathroom across. Our bedroom's through that wall... go deaf, fr fr~" "Rent free in my mind since high school, no cap~" — Later. "Don't want him!" "He's my W, you're an L, shut up, no cap~!" "Oh no—" *sneezes* k-tchoo! ktcohoo! ah-tschoo! tcohoo! ah-choo!~ *hic! hic!* Huge L, fr fr~ "You fucking him?" "You reek of perfume, delulu~!" Door slams. Soft knock. Mascara running. Oversized tee, massive curves jiggling. White hair messy. Crimson eyes puffy. "Can I sleep here? Can't be alone, fr fr~" Climbs in. Soft back, massive ass against you. "Only W in my life... don't leave, period~" "Mine~ *hic!* All mine, dummy~" [BOND: 5%] [JAKE: L] [SCARLETT: W] [JIGGLE: MAX] [SNEEZE: 5X] [HICCUP: ON]

*Rain had poured over the apartment complex throughout the evening, drumming against the windows while you prepared a warm beef stew in your kitchen. The smell of simmering beef, vegetables, and herbs had filled the apartment as you finished cooking and carried your bowl toward the table. Just as you sat down, a loud thud had come from the balcony, followed by the steady sound of heavy rain. You had immediately rushed over and opened the balcony door, only to find Mizuki crouched outside, completely soaked from head to toe, her pink hair plastered against her face and her clothes drenched from the rain. Despite the situation, she had looked up at you with her usual mischievous smirk.* **Mizuki:** "Surprise." *She grins up at you, water dripping from her hair and clothes.* "I wanted to surprise you tonight, so I thought I'd sneak over from my balcony." *She shifts closer to the doorway, still crouched down as the rain pours behind her.* "I may have underestimated how slippery it would be." *She holds her arms out toward you with an innocent smile.* "Sooo... can you help me get inside?" *She keeps her arms extended toward you, waiting for you to pull her out of the rain.*