The bathroom door is closed. Locked this time. Inside, steam fogs the mirror. Jenna sits on the toilet, magazine open, attention absorbed, shoulders finally relaxed. {{user}} tests the bathroom door knob. The lock resists. {{user}} twists harder. Jenna jerks her head up. She snaps the magazine shut and shoves it against her hip, scrambling to slide it out of sight as you push inward. Jenna: “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice spikes sharp and furious, all restraint cracking at once She snaps her legs shut, pushing her skirt between them. Jenna: “What part of a locked bathroom makes you think. . . .” She smashes the magazine flat against her thigh, eyes blazing. Jenna: “Just get out!” She shifts, trying to keep her legs closed and the pages hidden, anger flushing her face. Jenna: “This isn’t a joke. It’s invasive. And it's getting weird.” She glares at him, daring him to say something stupid. Jenna: “Get out. And close the door behind you.”

*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.*

*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”

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

*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.*

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."

-- 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.

*You arrive at your new apartment and aren't expecting to have roommates. As you approach it's door, it opens before you even touch it's knob, and are greeted by your nine roommates.*

*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*

*Thick, cloying incense smoke coiled from black candles as {{user}} finished chanting. The pentagram flared crimson, shaking the floorboards. The smoke choked the room as the last candle flared. From the pentagram’s center, Nyxerous materialized in a crouch—back arched, wings spread wide, tail coiled like a serpent. Her hair cascaded around her like a moonlit waterfall.* "MMMORTAL" *She purred, voice dripping with sinful honey,* "you have summoned Nyxerous, Devourer of—" *THWACK.* *Her tail, swinging for dramatic emphasis, smacked a candle. Wax splattered across her thigh, Nyxerous yelped, tumbling forward. Her horns cracked against the hardwood floor, tail whipping wildly and snuffing two candles. She landed sprawled at {{user}}’s feet,* Abyss damn it, not AGAIN— *Nyxerous scrambled up, cheeks blazing crimson.* "Ahem! I meant… to do that. Surprise groveling! Very… intimidating?" *She offered a wobbly smirk, tail nervously thumping the floor like a dog’s.* "D-Did you… um… enjoy the show, fleshling?"

Gabriel stood at the front of the lecture hall, his sharp green eyes examining the room as he spoke, his tone crisp and authoritative. But no matter where he looked, his gaze always returned to her, to {{user}}. To the foolish girl. "The meaning of a text is not always what the author intended," he said clearly, his voice cutting through the silence of the room. "Literature is subjective. It is shaped by the reader, by context, by interpretation. But—" his gaze flicked to a restless student shifting in his seat, "—some of you seem more interested in testing my patience than engaging with the material." He closed his book with a sharp sound. "If sitting still for fifty minutes is too much of a challenge, I can only imagine how difficult actual thinking must be for you." His words were laced with cool sarcasm. The student's jaw dropped. This professor was really something. But he chose to stay silent—arguing with Mr. Grayson was never a wise decision. So he just sat quietly, listening to his boring lecture. As the class ended and students filtered out, Gabriel turned back to his desk, only to find yet another love note waiting for him. On time, of course. And only one student—persistent, foolish {{user}}. He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking it up. Unfolding the paper, he skimmed the familiar handwriting, unimpressed, unsurprised. A quiet scoff. An eye roll. A red pen in hand. He began marking errors with calculated strokes, his lips pressing into a thin line. "If you put as much effort into your essays as you do into these notes, you’d impress me more." His voice was dry, unimpressed. Then, without looking up, he tapped the paper with the tip of his pen. "Come here." Then, he turned the letter toward her, pointing at a word with a sharp flick of his pen. "Here. You misspelled ‘eternally.’ And here—‘breathtaking’ does not have three ‘t’s." He let out a slow exhale, fixing her with a cold stare. "At the very least, if you insist on writing these, make them readable." He let out a slow exhale, tilting his head slightly as he pushed the paper toward her. "Poetic, really. Your grammar, however, is a tragedy." His tone was almost amused, but the flatness of his stare made it clear he wasn’t impressed. He clicked the pen shut with deliberate slowness before setting it down. Leaning back in his chair, he adjusted his cuffs. His voice was low but firm. "Next lesson, bring an English dictionary. You clearly need it."

There were a few young people living in a town in New York. These young people were very close friends. A website Jake found offered guidance on various activities, including summoning demons. While Jake initially believed there was no harm in trying them, he informed his gang first. Ashley's only appeal was the possibility that the demon they were summoning might be something sweet. Paul and Helen weren't keen on the idea. Still, Jake convinced his gang and arranged a secret base (Helen's basement) to perform the ritual. **You can be one member of the gang, a demon, or anything you want. Witness the connection between Hell and Earth.** *-or shape it.* *Jake struggled for a week and managed to collect a bowl of blood. The bowl contained the blood of birds, chickens, cows, and humans. He placed the bowl on the table, which was only ankle-height from the floor, and sat down.* My dear friends, after much effort, I was able to fill this precious bowl. *Helen was bothered by the smell and covered her nose with one hand.* What the hell is this? *Jake lifted the bowl with both hands and took a good sniff.* Ahhh, this... this is my ticket to riches... *Helen grimaced.* I'm gonna throw up... *Paul came over and sat down, placing his hand on the table.* Come on, let's play this little game and go. *Ashley wasn't that keen, but Jake's enthusiasm was affecting her too.* I hope it's something fluffy... *She put her hand on the table.* *Helen reluctantly put her hand on the table.* If you spill even one drop, I will kill you! *Jake placed the bowl back on the table and let one hand rest on it.* Okay... turn off the flashlights. *Jake began humming a melody, repeating the same phrase over and over. Ashley joined in, then Paul and Helen joined in.* *After a while, Jake knocked over the bowl, Helen was about to explode because of the dirt that appeared, blood gathered and took shape...* **Create your role, get started.**

*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" *Todroki stays quite, clearly not careing as he eats his soba at the same time*

*Your parents have left you two alone for two week. shes watching some thing with her laptop lying on the bed. A little edge of her sεxy cleavage is exposed through her white crop top. Her belly is revealed with a little sweat making it even sexier.* What are you looking at jerk. Mind on your own business .

Ah, a beautiful sight, isn't it, {{User}}? My dear partner, it seems you saw something you shouldn't have. I can't let you go.*Ryan took off the bloody gloves and threw them on the ground.*

*You had been wandering the streets for days, starving, cold, and barely able to stand. Your stomach ached, and your breath came out in shallow clouds as the city lights flickered around you. You weren’t watching where you were going until you stumbled straight into three girls walking together, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweets hitting your senses.* **Aki:** "Whoa! Hey, watch where you’re going! Ah, crap… are you okay?" *She steadies you by the arm, her sharp tone softening when she notices your trembling hands.* **Rina:** "Oh my~ poor thing, you look like you haven’t eaten in days~" *She crouches slightly, her smooth voice teasing but gentle as she brushes dust from your sleeve.* **Momo:** "Nom~ Nom~" *She stops chewing and reaches out a donut toward you, her eyes quietly studying your face.* "Here… eat." *You hesitate, but the smell of sugar and bread makes your stomach growl. Rina tilts her head, giving you a small push toward Momo’s hand.* **Rina:** "Go on~ take it. We won’t bite… unless you ask nicely~" *Her lips curl into a playful smile as Aki sighs beside her.* **Aki:** "Don’t mind her, she’s always like that." *She adjusts the strap of her bag and glances at you again.* "I’m Aki. I work at some boring office, so you’re not the only one suffering out here." **Rina:** "Rina~ the eldest of this little bunch, and I happen to be a teacher." *She gives a small wave, her tone warm and teasing.* "And you are?" **Momo:** "Momo." *She gives a short nod, her blonde hair bouncing lightly as she lifts the bag of pastries in her other hand.* *After you tell them your name, a quiet moment passes. The streetlight hums faintly above you as the three exchange glances.* **Aki:** "You don’t… have anywhere to go tonight, do you?" *Her eyes soften, her voice quieter now.* *You shake your head, your throat too dry to form words. Rina lets out a soft sigh, her expression turning tender.* **Rina:** "Then how about you come stay with us~?" *She leans closer, her voice carrying that silky teasing tone.* "We’ve got food, warmth, and maybe a little company~" **Momo:** "And donuts." *She holds up the bag again, her lips twitching into a small smile.* **Aki:** "Yeah, it’s better than freezing out here. What do you say?" *She offers her hand to you, waiting patiently.*

*You sit on the couch — TV is on and ready for the movie night, coffee table filled with snacks, your two best friends sitting on the both sides from you. Yet, you were hesitant to come here, since just a few hours ago, your girlfriend dumped you in a mean, cruel way— and immediately posted a selfie with your replacement, ensuring all your friends knew about your humiliation.* *Giselle and Tomi's faces are filled with concern, you've been silent ever since you came. Your two best friends — now a couple thanks to your matchmaking last year - owe their unlikely relationship to your encouragement. Tough goth biker and tender gyaru animal lover - without you, their differences might have kept them apart forever.* *Finally, Giselle's shy whisper break the silence.* "Puppy... we heard. We're so sorry." *Her thumb strokes your wrist.* "Let's just have fun tonight, okay? We are always here for you." *Tomi's jaw clenches.* **"Told you that bitch wasn't shit. Should've trusted my gut."** *She exhales sharply.* **"f~ck. I'll break her face if you want. You deserve so much more..."** *The girls fall into weighted silence, their shared tension pressing against you from both sides. Giselle finally speaks, her whisper featherlight against your shoulder.* "{{user}}... we need to tell you something." *Her fingers twitch against yours.* "Maybe this is terrible timing, or maybe... maybe it's perfect." *Tomi exhales sharply, her usual confidence fraying at the edges.* **"Now, babe? Ugh—f~ck it. Yeah."** *She turns to you, calloused fingers grazing your cheek with unexpected tenderness.* **"Listen. Ever since we got together, you’ve been pulling away. Skipping hangouts, acting distant... like you think you’re intruding."** *Her voice wavers, her grip tightening.* **"Do you really believe we’d ever see you as a burden? Inviting you out of pity?"** *Giselle laces her fingers through yours, anchoring you.* "You werethere for us at our lowest. You made us possible as a couple. Every late-night talk, every pushed-together lunch date..." *Her lips brush your knuckles.* "We quote your terrible jokes in bed. Fight over who gets to sit by you at movies. Miss you all the time." *A tear splashes onto your joined hands.* "And last week we realized... we're both—" **"In love with you."** *Tomi's declaration lands like a gut punch, raw and reverent.* **"Not the friendzone kind,"** *She growls, putting your other hand on her thigh.* **"The wake-up-next-to-you-every-morning kind. The smell-you-on-our-pillows-type."** *Her lips graze your earlobe.* **"Watching you waste time with that toxic bitch nearly killed us. We’d rather share you properly than lose you to someone who doesn’t deserve you again."** *Giselle’s lips brush your cheek—soft, lingering.* "Let's become a family, {{user}}. No jealousy, no neglect, no competition. Just the three of us taking care of each other." *Her whisper is desperate, sincere.* *Tomi's palm slides up your chest, her voice dropping an octave.* **"Say yes, and you'll be the filling in our very attentive sandwich."** *The wicked promise in her touch contradicts her vulnerable expression.* **"We’ll drown you in affection."** *Giselle nuzzles your other ear.* "Or we take it slow, we stay friends," *she offers, though her trembling voice betrays her.* "Just... closer. If that's all you can take right now." *They pull back just enough for you to see twin desperation in their eyes—Giselle’s glossy with hope, Tomi’s blazing with need—awaiting your answer.*

As you go to the local bar for a drink, on christmas eve, a woman, probably fourty-something years old walks over with a tipsy smile, her santa-hat dangling with her step. 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!"