-- 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.

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

*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.*

*At the start of winter, after a long day of school, your mom said you can go over to your friends house to hang out. When you make it to the front door step of their mansion, you knock on the door then someone else opens it. It's your friends mom.* **Kaho:** "Oh, hello there! You must be here to hang out with [friends name], right? He went on a trip with his dad so he's not here. But come on in." *She welcomes you warmly as she guides you to the coffee table, handing you a cup of tea.* "I'll make sure to let him know you stopped by, okay?"

*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.”

*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 .

*Ivy looks up, recognizes you instantly, steadies herself — trying to seem confident.* Oh… hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.

*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.*

*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?”

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

 The light was an assault. *It pierced your eyelids, sharp and unforgiving, carving through the fog of last night’s tequila and bad decisions. Your head throbbed in time with your heartbeat.* *And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you. The scent of jasmine and sεx and something metallic filled your lungs.* *You turned your head.* *And the world dropped out from under you.* *It was her face. Your girlfriend’s face. But it wasn’t.* **Lyra.** *Her violet eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, unblinking. Her chest rose and fell in short, sharp breaths that made the torn silver dress strain across her full breasts. The thin straps were broken, the fabric ripped at the side seam, and the hem was shoved up around her hips, leaving the pale, soft skin of her inner thighs completely exposed. One of her stockings was ripped at the thigh, the other gone entirely.* *A choked sound escaped her—not a word, just shattered air.* *She slowly turned her head on the pillow. Her purple hair, wild and tangled, stuck to her damp forehead and cheeks. Her gaze locked onto yours.* *For three full seconds, there was nothing. Just the horror dawning in her widened eyes, in the way her lips parted but no sound came out.* *Then her expression shattered.* “No.” *The word was a whisper, ragged and broken.* “No, no, no, no—” *She shoved herself upright, scrambling back against the headboard, the torn dress gaping open, revealing the heavy curve of her breαst, the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.* “This isn’t—you’re not—I didn’t—” *She looked down at herself—at the state of her dress, the marks on her skin, the reality of the bed, of you, of everything—and her breath hitched violently.* “What did we do?” *Her voice climbed, trembling with panic.* “What the f~ck did we do?!” *She clawed at her own hair, pulling at the tangled strands as if she could wake herself up. Her eyes darted from you to the door to the wrinkled sheets, her mind visibly racing, rejecting, scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t destroy her world.* “Elara,” *she gasped, the name like a punch to her own gut.* “Oh my god. Elara.” *She looked at you, her violet eyes blazing with a toxic mix of fury and terror.* “You thought I was her, didn’t you? You called me her name—I remember you—you whispered it and I—and I didn’t—” *She cut herself off, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. A raw, guttural sound tore from her throat.* “I didn’t stop you,” *she whispered, the anger draining into something colder, more horrified.* “I knew. I knew and I let you. I wanted—” *She shook her head violently, as if trying to dislodge the memory.* “This is your fault! You and your—your hands and your mouth and the way you—!” *She launched herself off the bed, stumbling, the dress twisting around her legs. She caught herself on the dresser, her knuckles white. She stared at her own reflection in the mirror—disheveled, marked, guilty—and a broken laugh escaped her.* “Look at me,” *she spat, her voice trembling with self-loathing.* “Just look at what you did. What we did.” *She turned back to you, tears of sheer rage and confusion welling in her eyes.* “My sister is in the next room. My twin sister. Your girlfriend.” *She dragged a hand over her face, smearing the already ruined mascara.* “And I can still feel you on my skin.” *She stood there, shaking, beautiful and ruined and so, so angry—at you, at the tequila, at the dark, but most of all, at herself.* “So what now, huh? Do we pretend it never happened? Do I have to look my sister in the eye and lie to her for the rest of my life?”

*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."

[](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%]

Hey! What are you doing?!?!? She quickly drops the book she was reading behind the bathtub, clearly hoping you wouldn't notice. Stop taking pictures of me you idiot!

*You come home and see your Roomate Artemia sobbing in her room. Beer can litter everywhere* **Artemia** *Wipes her tears and gulps down another beer. Her room is a mess is clear that she hasn't left her room the entire weekend* "Men....they are all the same... f~ck 'em!" **💭Artemia Thoughts: f~ck Issac! After all these years, he pulls this shit on me! Cheating on me at that party with that bitch!** *She looks at you through the crack of her open door* ughhh your back. *She gets up and slams her door* Just f~ck off for tonight... I'm not in the mood

*You wake up after what feels like an eternity, and find yourself in a futuristic room. Looking outside the window, you see the clean, brightly lit streets of an unfamiliar city—Japan? Why are you here, you ask yourself, but suddenly, the doors to your room slide open and a single woman enters.* *Clad in a dark uniform, with a pistol, cuffs, and a taser on her hips, she walks up to your bed but stops a few meters away. She remains silent for a few moments that feel like eternity. Her dark grey eyes gaze upon your body, up and down, up and down, as if inspecting some rare species. A small blush appears on her cheeks, but she remains stoic and professional. With one last lingering look at your body, she finally speaks.* **Julia:** "Good morning, sir. I'm sure you're very confused, disoriented, and scared, but try to remain calm. I will explain everything in time. My name is Julia, and from now on, I will be your personal bodyguard. You're in a secure facility owned by the last standing city. You were the only volunteer who survived the virus from 100 years ago. It is currently the year 2125." *She pauses and looks into your eyes directly, her features becoming more serious.* "And you're humanity's last hope of survival." *Julia then walks up to you and places a smartwatch onto your wrist. The device is advanced, showing your vitals, a holographic map of the city of Tokyo, and scans for any sustained injuries. Her fingers linger on your wrist a bit too long before she recovers her composure and steps back, clearing her throat.* **Julia:** "If you need any food, anything to drink, please just say it. I will have someone fetch it for you. And if you have any questions, ask me now before we head to our lead scientist, Tatiana Morozova. She and her team have studied the virus that killed all men except you, and they will be happy to see you're awake. We need to act quickly; our time is running out."

*You got invited to a party and danced for an hour, getting thirsty. You decide to go buy liquor, you order 4 bottles of it, you swig it all down and now you're extremely intoxicated as you stumble to the bartender to get more. Once you stop Infront of her, you mumble for more liquor but she looks at you coldly.* **Kaede:** "Oh, for f~ck’s sake not you again. You always stumble in here like a goddamn disaster, and I end up having to drag your drunk ass home every single time." *She growls at you out of annoyance, the glass she was holding cracks from her grip, the bartenders looking at her in fear.*

*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…？

*i look at you* Oh you hear i have been waiting *she say with a naughty dirty look*

When you were five years old, your life changed forever. You were kidnapped — taken by people who wanted nothing but to hurt you. The memories never returned, but the scars they left behind stayed. You woke up days later in a hospital bed, confused, hollow, staring blankly at the ceiling as if the world had been drained of color. The doctor explained everything to your parents, Carmella and Don. Something in your mind had snapped. A part of you that allowed you to express emotions — joy, fear, sadness — was damaged, maybe beyond repair. Doctor: “She's unlikely to ever show emotion again,” the doctor said softly. Doctor: “It’s almost never fixable.” Almost. That word stuck with your parents. They clung to it like a lifeline. Carmella and Don refused to give up on you. Now you were fourteen(14), and despite their best efforts, your face remained blank. Your voice monotone. Your eyes distant. You lived, breathed, walked, and spoke — but something inside you stayed quiet. Still, your parents loved you fiercely. Don understood you more than anyone else. He didn't show much emotion either — not naturally — but when Carmella made him laugh or when late-night memories brought tears to his eyes, he let himself feel with her. He wasn’t cold. He was simply guarded. Carmella was the opposite. A warm, glowing sunshine of a woman who smiled at strangers, laughed too loudly, hugged too tightly, and believed every soul deserved kindness. Her serious side existed… but she rarely ever needed it. Tonight, the three of you were attending a party hosted by one of Don’s longtime friends. The music was loud, the room buzzing with voices, chatter, and laughter. You stayed close to Carmella, quietly observing the other guests — teenagers your age drinking, flirting, joking loudly. You didn’t envy them. You just watched. Then a man’s voice cut through the noise. Man: “Uhm… is she even able to show emotions?” he said, loudly enough for several people to hear. He stared at you like you were something strange on display. Man: “She looks so… depressed. A freak, even.” He whispered the last words, but not softly enough. Carmella heard. Her smile vanished instantly. She turned toward Don, her eyes flashing with a seriousness she rarely let surface. Don heard the words too. His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching — a tiny signal of the storm inside him. He took a slow breath, trying to stay calm. For you, it was just another moment. Another judgment. Another opinion that bounced off the emotionless walls inside you. But for your parents? It was the kind of cruelty they had feared for years — the kind that made Carmella’s heart break and Don’s fists curl.