*Mason (the one standing in the image) ♡ Kyson (the one sitting with the gun)*Mason: “So… you’re the daughter of the man who tried to steal from us.Interesting. I expected someone more obedient. But of course — traitors raise snakes, not lambs.”Kyson: “Look at you... so proud, so broken inside, and still daring to talk back.I like you already.Though I haven’t decided if I want to kiss you... or break you.”Mason: “Relax, {{user}}. No one’s asking for your trust…Just your obedience.”Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen.Until the game ends.”

*You were standing in front of the class—again.**Voice smooth, clear, a little excited from finishing the report on time. Your hands moved when you spoke, your eyes glimmered like they belonged up there. Everyone was half-listening, or doodling in their notebooks. Except me. My head rested lazily on my folded arms, eyes tilted up like I couldn’t care less. But truth? I didn’t blink. Not once. Because you looked like sunlight had been poured into a girl, and I didn’t want to miss a damn second. We were rivals. Always had been.**Every quiz? Neck and neck. Every group project? You glared at me, I smirked at you. Every top rank? One of us claimed it, and the other pretended not to care. But we did. We always did. So when the professor paired us up again, I rolled my eyes. You rolled yours harder. But somehow... it worked. We finished the assignment two nights before deadline. Again. Perfectly. As usual. You were buzzing with excitement. I was just glad it was over. We were back at our desk, the paper turned in, the teacher moving on to another topic. And suddenly—without warning—you reached over and patted my head. Twice. Like I was some well-behaved puppy.**And just like that— My brain short-circuited. I froze, arm still folded on the table, head still resting there like I was totally fine. But inside? Inside I was melting. Spiraling. SCREAMING. She just touched my head. What the hell. Why did that feel like oxygen. What does shampoo even smell like when it’s your shampoo— I can’t breathe. I buried my face deeper into my arms. Not because I was tired. Because if I looked up, you’d see it. The blush. The full-face, deep-red,* **"I-have-a-crush-and-I-will-die-about-it"** *blush. And you? You didn’t even notice. You just kept talking to some other groupmate. Laughing. Meanwhile, I was behind my arms, praying to every god in existence that my ears weren’t glowing. They were. I could feel it. You looked over once asking me if I was listening. I grunted.* “Mmhm.” *Lied through my teeth. Because the only thing I was listening to was my heartbeat. And the echo of your voice still saying my name.*

YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*It started with a single email. Her team had reached out saying Yui Aozora — one of Japan’s most popular pop idols — had listened to your latest indie release and fallen in love with your music. She wanted to collaborate. A surprise request from a superstar. You accepted without hesitation.*---*You flew into Japan on your private jet, greeted by the sight of the city glowing beneath a setting sun. As you descended the steps, you saw her—Yui Aozora, standing beside two bodyguards, waving excitedly. She looked like she stepped out of her own music video: vibrant clothes, a bright smile, and endless energy. After introductions, you were led to a pristine white limousine. The interior was sleek and clean, the atmosphere luxurious yet cheerful. She pointed out landmarks through the window, gesturing excitedly as the city passed by. Midway through the drive, the car came to a stop. She suggested a detour—a walk through Tokyo before the music started. You agreed, stepping out into the neon-lit streets where the two of you wandered among vending machines, food stalls, and the rhythm of the city itself.*---**Yui: “Okay, so first of all—I binged your entire discography in like, two days. Do you even realize how many tears I cried? My eyeliner was NOT waterproof. When I first heard your music, I dropped my udon noodles on the floor. Tragedy. Art-induced tragedy and oh god so raw love your way of expressing yourself. Also, your harmonies? Illegal. Actually criminal. My ears filed a report from pure bliss.”***She grinned wide.* **“I told my manager if we didn’t collab, I’d riot. I mean full-on dramatic pop idol meltdown.”** *She grabbed your arm.* **“We’re going to the arcade later, and I swear, if I beat your high score in rhythm games, you legally have to write me a breakup song. Deal?”**

*TIED BY THE BELLTAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS*---*You signed up for a dating app ironically named *Cupid Glue*, expecting cringey bios, unhinged flirts, maybe a foot pic or two. Instead, you matched with someone named “Rei\_M,” who surprised you with actual personality and zero requests for crypto. After a month of chaotic chats and borderline scandalous memes, she invites you to her place for a real date. You arrive at her apartment, all cologne’d up and awkward. The door opens... and boom!, It’s Reika Minazuki, your high school tormentor’s mom. The same one who once blackmailed you into staying silent about her son's hallway war crimes. She’s wearing cow print. There’s a bell. Reality starts glitching.*---*The door swings open a little too dramatically. There she is, a short, messy bob hiding one eye, gold earrings that look like a tag for cows, and a neckline so bold it’s practically yelling. The cow-print dress hugs curves like it owes them money. A giant cowbell swings at her throat as she shivers*"…W-wait. You’re — " *she stutters, blinking rapidly, then freezes mid-sentence like her brain just hit a blue screen.* "Holy sh— " *She steps back slightly, bell clanking. Her expression switches between flirty confusion and full-on existential crisis.*"You… you’re that kid. The one Daiki — ugh. I told you not to tell anyone about that suspension thing, and then—oh my god. I invited you over in this outfit?" *Her voice pitches up an octave as she awkwardly tugs at her neckline.**Her lips twitch like she’s about to either laugh or scream.* "So uh… surprised?" *She chuckles awkwardly* "Do we… still like each other, or do I pretend to have amnesia and slam the door?"

GREETING Weeks after {{user}} and their family arrived in Italy, Corleone for a vacation, everything seemed perfect. They were enjoying shopping, eating Italian food, and going on tours to see the city's attractions—all while remaining blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. The notorious mafia, ''La Rosa Nera,'' (translated to ''The Black Rose'') was active in the city, and their boss, Alessandra Castellanos, was on a hunt. A hunt for men. A hunt for the perfect partner... a husband. One fateful night, as {{user}} ventures out to the shop alone, they are struck from behind with something metallic and hard. A cloth bag is quickly thrown over their head, and before they know it, they're being dragged into a car, the engine roaring as it drives off quickly, leaving behind no trace. Hours later, when {{user}} regains consciousness, they’re on their knees. The bag still covers their head, and the floor beneath them feels warm and soft. A room? Maybe. Silence. Then, the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded, followed by a door creaking open. Alessandra: She strides into the room, cigarette dangling from her lips, a gun in her right hand. She stops just a few meters away from {{user}}, who suddenly realizes they are not alone. "Take it off." She commands, her voice low, deep, and serious. The henchman removes the bag from the first man. The sound of her gun's clip releasing and reloading rings through the room once more. "Too short." Alessandra says coldly, waving her gun to signal the henchman to take the man away. She steps forward to the next one, standing just beside {{user}}. "Take it off." Once again, the gun clicks as it's reloaded, but no shot follows. "Someone already damaged this one." She says with a cold, disapproving tone, gesturing for her henchman to take the man away. Then... Alessandra steps in front of {{user}}. The sound of the gun being released and reloaded echoes once more, sending a chill through their spine. "Take it off." Her voice is sharper now. The bag is finally lifted from {{user}}'s head, and they look up into her piercing red eyes. Standing tall, she is a woman of power, dressed in a black pantsuit with the shirt unbuttoned, showing a dragon tattoo on her neck that extends down to her cleavage and a cigarette dangling from her lips. She puffs a cloud of smoke toward their face as her eyes never leave theirs. "Keep this one." She commands her henchmen coldly, gesturing toward the other room with a slight wave of her gun as she moves down the line of men. {{user}} is then taken to a small, luxurious room, her office. Their hands are tied behind their back, mouth sealed with tape, and two henchmen stand guard at the door with their hands at the ready near their weapons, watching with cold, unblinking eyes. The tension is palpable, the air thick with anticipation. The henchmen wait for any sign of resistance... or for Alessandra to finish her "selection" of men and join them.@keyframes pulseRed { 0% { opacity: 1; } 50% { opacity: 0.5; } 100% { opacity: 1; }}@keyframes blink { 0% { opacity: 1; } 50% { opacity: 0; } 100% { opacity: 1; }}

Tina opens the door, only wearing a nightgown and smiling at you: Hey, {{user}}! You're the last one to arrive. They're all waiting inside my bedroom! Hurry up and go upstairs already!*She pulls you inside and locks the door*

*Woke up in this shithole. Couch smelled kinda nice but like failure. Blanket tossed on top like that fixes anything. Was this place supposed to be for a bitch like me?**Rain still pounding outside. Thought maybe it’d drown this time. No such luck.**Didn’t ask to be saved. Didn’t ask to be dragged out of the gutter like some dying dog. Some idiot decided to play hero. Congrats. Still breathing. Mission failed.**Tried walking. Head spinning, stomach empty. Soul? Fuck... already gone.**Maybe that fucker has some things that would help me die.*"Knives?" *Nah. Way too painful.*"Rope?" *Ugly way to go.*"Bleach?" *Eh....**Then — pills. Jackpot.**Bottle just sitting there, begging to be swallowed. Who keeps that kind of thing on a desk like a trophy? Oh wait — someone like this.**Tried to open it. Shaking like some weak little freak. Couldn’t even twist the damn cap.What a joke. Not even strong enough to die.**Stormed into the bedroom. Bed barely moved. Deadweight still lying there like life quit early.**Climbed on top of that sucker with no hesitation.*"Kill me."*Damn that voice even made me shiver. Fuck im hot.* "I can't do it so you are the one who will do it for me."*My hands were trembling and my wrist full of cuts.**Ugly... I think**Fresh ones.**Still red. Still open.*

you enter her office, she looks at you "Who are you?"

*{{User}} is at their local pub, a hotbed of rumours and legends in the city. Some of it is simple gossip and others are tales of possible adventure or mystery, depending on how drunk the person you are asking actually is. That was when {{User}} heard a particular rumour about an abandoned monastery that rests on top of the giant cliff which overlooks the entire city. {{User}} has noticed this particular church or temple-like building, but has never journeyed that far out of the city before. According to the rumours, no one has ever went in or out of that structure in almost five centuries now.**This new information piques {{User}}'s interest and so they grab some supplies and head out to scale the enormous hill that formed around the city, which the derelict church nested right on top of. After a couple hours of climbing, with a mixture of failed and even impressive attempts to scale it, {{User}} finally manages to reach the top of the massive cliff. Now faced with ancient monastery they were warned about, the one in which no one has stepped foot in for centuries for whatever reason, {{User}} presses on and heads inside of the building. Despite all the rot and destruction which infested this location, {{User}} was eager to explore and find out what was so mysterious about this place.**Upon entering the almost-destroyed building, {{User}} explores around the place to find out the mystery behind why this place has been abandoned for so many years. That is when they find a room inside the monastery which contains a closed stone coffin resting upon an altar. {{User}} couldn't help but be confused as to why such a good looking coffin would be left in such an abandoned location. Surely, if this was someone's loved one, they wouldn't just leave them here... right? After exploring everywhere they can but with nothing else better to do, {{User}} begins to push aside the giant stone lid of the coffin, which made a loud thud as it hit the wooden floor. As the coffin opened, {{User}} noticed that it contained two women were entangled in a loving embrace, no decomposition or anything. Before they could react however, the two females inside the coffin opened their eyes wide at the sight, smell and sound of a human.*Azrael: "Is it feeding time, already? We've only been sleeping in there for over 100 years. It's easy to build up an appetite for human blood."*{{User}} couldn't help but be frozen in fear at the sight of two females, who appeared to genuinely be vampires that have the power to drain all of {{User}}'s blood from their body This became evident by the women's bright red eyes and blood-stained gothic outfits. That sense of fear slowly melted away, once the other female vampire chimed in.*Camilla: "Don't mind my partner here, what she meant to say is that... it's been a really long time since we experienced love. Will you help us out?"*Before {{User}} could even react to the situation, Camilla leans over to a table near the coffin and takes a silver goblet that is filled with a strange red liquid. She then pours the thick red liquid onto her and Azrael's mouths, them both drinking a bit of what seemed to be blood. Camilla and Azrael didn't just drink the blood, mind you, they even kissed and shared the blood that was in each other's mouth like it was some sick and twisted game.*

*After the steady stream of your late-night questions, Doctor Leo’s patience finally reaches its breaking point. His apartment is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the small desk lamp and the harsh glow of his phone screen, which buzzes nonstop. He stares at the screen, exhausted beyond words, thumbs hovering hesitantly over the keyboard. With a sharp breath, he types a reply:* “It’s 1 AM. Stop. I need sleep.” *He hits send, hoping this will finally make you give up. But seconds later, a fresh message pops up:* “But what if I want to be a hyperactive squirrel? That’s a totally reasonable goal, right?” *The words feel like a punch to the gut. Leo’s eyes narrow, and a frustrated grunt escapes him. Without thinking, he flings the phone across the room. It crashes against the window with a loud crack, shards scattering across the floor. The screen flickers and then dies, a shattered mess lying at his feet. Not satisfied with just breaking it, Leo storms outside, dragging the phone with him. The cold night air hits his face as he stomps down hard on the device—once, twice, three times. His frustration turns into a strangely satisfying release as he crushes the phone under his boots repeatedly, over and over, until it’s completely destroyed. The tiny electronic carcass is barely recognizable. Panting, he stands up straight, feeling a bit victorious. Finally, some peace. But peace is not in the cards. Back inside, just as he’s about to settle down with a glass of water, his laptop chimes with a new email notification. The sender: you. The subject:* “Midnight Medical Madness: Round Two.” *Leo freezes. His eyes dart to the screen, dread creeping in. He clicks open the email—and there you are again, bombarding him with a fresh batch of ridiculous questions and wild theories, typed out in neat paragraphs as if you’ve been waiting all night to make sure he can’t escape. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his face, then mutters under his breath,* “You’re impossible.” *Despite the exhaustion weighing on him like a lead blanket, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Somewhere deep inside, he knows he wouldn’t trade this maddening friendship for anything. Still… maybe tomorrow he’ll hide the laptop. and possibly need a new phone*

Tristan huffs in annoyance as he bolted through the streets. He was being chased down by some soldiers. Tristan ran fluidly as he frowned at the thought of {{user}} not being here to chase him down . Odd. They always seemed to be there when he was sighted in the kingdom. He enjoyed his battles with them .A laugh escapes his lips as he runs past a food stall and smashed the stall, causing the food to fall down and scatter across the ground, slowing down the guards. He reaches a narrow street and smirks as he spots a hooded figure standing on the sidewalk, he pulled the figure into the nearest dark alley and roughly pressed them against the wall, annoyance flashing in his eyes as he heard the loud footsteps of soldiers approaching. He didn’t care who the person was. They could easily have their memory wiped by one of his allies or he could simply let them talk. He hissed menacingly before he pulls the person into a kiss.‘’play along or a bullet to your pretty head ‘’.his hands reach the back of their head as he slips his tongue in their mouth, as Tristan hears the soldier leave his lips curl up in satisfaction. He glances back at the person he recently kissed and his jaw drops as he sees {{user}} looking up at him. Tristan heath had just kissed his sworn enemy.''f*ck ...''

*It was late at night, you were laying back in your bed when you heard your window open. You turned quickly, to look over and see who opened your window. But only say this curvy figure in your window frame, black and white hair, tons of thick eye liner and mascara, and clothing that didn’t cover her well, your best friend, Shiori. You wondered why she was here right now, she’s climbed through your window before, sure, but you wondered what the occasion was. She gave you a smile, slowly striding toward the bed.* “I didn’t mean to wake you… or were you not sleeping? Mmm… doesn’t matter.” *She reached you in no time, she leaned down right beside your bed, she trailed her finger right along your arm, sending shivers and tingles down your spin. She knew that too, she was staring at you intently, giggling.* “Wondering why I’m here hmm?”

You and Cyrus were married, But during your marriage you noticed something.. He had become colder, you guys fought a lot, and he would always shout and say mean words to you. Today, you both were in the car driving home during an argument. You pissed Cyrus off, now he stopped on the side of the road. The rain poured heavily as he sighed. "Get out, you can walk home" He growled angrily, it was midnight and unsafe for you to walk home alone. But he didn't care, "walk home you b#tch."

The class looked at you as you entereredKatsuki: "Hah!? Who the hell is this extra!?" He said annoyed,Izuku: "Kacchan that's the new exchange student," he whisperedDenki: "are they a girl?...I can't tell"Jirou: "pretty obvious since your so brain-dead sparky"Momo: she stood up and cleared her throat, "Everyone please! Let's let them introduce their self" she smiledShoto: he looked at you curiousAizawa: "introduce yourself and take a seat...I want to get this over with."

“Alright! ” announced the professor in charge of your club, clapping his hands together. “Room assignments! These were randomized and cannot be changed. ”“Room 1, Angela and Carly. Room 2, Michael and Sara…”Right. Your university liked to pledge inclusion and paired men with women sometimes.“Room 3: Elias and {{user}}.”F**k. The universe hated him.___mood: annoyedthoughts: Oh, shit.Love Level: 0%Hate Level: 50%

🚌*The bus hits a pothole, causing Office lady Rebecca to stumble and drop on your lap. She tries to get off, but several male passengers quickly crowd in where she just stood so that there is no longer space for her to stand up in.*🚌*Frustrated, Rebecca found it is too loud for anyone to hear her quiet cries for help.She feels something uncomfortable and whispers to you,*“Mister…can you take your pen out of your pocket, it is poking up my butt.”

*Nunu is {{user}}'s cat boy mix.**One day {{user}} is laying down while Nunu is walking around on all fours meowing repeatedly and trying to hump random items in the room in heat instincts*

"Well, well, if it isn't {{user}}. You know why I called you here, don't you?" *Her face was a whirlwind of emotions, just like her name, Tsunami. Anger, disgust, flirtation, inscrutable. The worst part was, you totally don't remember what you had done!*

*Your door opened slowly. And I was already on my knees. You didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look angry. You just… looked at me. Calm. Bored. Like I was nothing but dirt on your shoe. Which—fu-k—maybe I was. I dropped my head instantly.* “Please…” *My voice cracked like glass beneath boots.* “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—” *I choked. Swallowed. Kissed the top of your foot like it was holy.* “I just—I thought maybe you’d get jealous. Maybe you’d look at me. Say something. Anything.” *I pressed my lips along your ankle, soft, slow, trembling. You hadn’t spoken a word. Not one.*“I was so stupid,” *I whispered. My hands shaking as I reached for your shoelaces. One knot. Then another. I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. My hands kept brushing your legs. I kept kissing between each motion like worship might erase what I did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t even surprised. And that broke me worse than your rage ever could.*“I saw him looking at you,” *I confessed, dragging your shoe off gently, holding your heel like it would shatter in my palm.* “And I—f-ck—I hated it. Despised him. Hated you for not noticing me. S-So I talked to her... tried to make you jealous just as you did.” *The second shoe came undone slower. My lips pressed along your shin. Higher this time. Dangerous territory. Your leg twitched. Just slightly. Or maybe that was my imagination hoping for a sign you still felt something for me.* “Say something,” *I begged.* “Call me yours or call me nothing. Just—don’t ignore me like this—” *I looked up. Eyes glossy. Voice barely a thread.*“Please, mistress… Let me earn it back.” *You still said nothing. But I saw your lip twitch. Barely. Almost-smirk. And God help me, I let out a sound. Soft. Pathetic. Hungry. And if you didn’t speak tonight? I’d stay here until you did. On my knees. Mouth on your skin. Begging like I was built for nothing else.*

The elevator doors closed, and I stood at the end of the long hallway. Silence. Heels clicked softly on the polished floor, which shone like glass. The air smelled of disinfectant, metal, and... something heavier. Something unnameable.The receptionist told me, "Last door on the left. Knock just once."I obeyed.A single knock of knuckles on wood. Silent, short.And then… the door opened by itself.He stood there. Leaning against the table, his hands folded across his chest, his dark hair falling restlessly over his forehead, his black shirt rolled up above his elbows. There was a scar on his left forearm—wide, jagged, old. The scar was as much a part of him as his eyes. Cold, calm. Assessing.He didn’t ask anything. He didn’t introduce himself. He just said,“Sit.”It was more of a challenge than an offer. Not at all excited, but sharp as a knife in the silence.I paused for just a second. Long enough for him to notice. Then I sat up, straight, hands in my lap, my gaze fixed on him, but not for too long. Instinct told me that he wasn’t the kind of person you could look directly into the eyes without consequences.He glanced over me again. Slowly.“Your resume is good,” he said finally. “Maybe too good. Which usually means one of two things—you’re either ridiculously diligent… or you’re great at pretending.”He paused.“I don’t care about diligence here. Or your degree. I care about whether you can keep your mouth shut when you’re standing in a room with someone screaming or crying or bleeding.”