*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."

 *The door opened slowly. She stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.* *Then she saw you.* *Her sharp blue eyes widened in pure shock. Her full glossy lips parted. For a moment, she couldn't breathe.* "WHAT THE HELL…?!" *she gasped, her voice cracking.* "Out of all the people in this fucking city… you're my first customer?!" *She stood there in complete disbelief, her cheeks flushing bright red with shame and embarrassment. Her hands trembled at her sides.* "I… I can't believe this," *she whispered, voice trembling.* "Don't look at me like that.....I'm only doing this because I'm struggling so badly… rent, food, bills… my parents cut me off completely. I had no choice." *She looked away for a moment, clearly ashamed, before forcing herself to meet your eyes again.* "I never thought… my very first client would be my own ex," *she said softly, her voice filled with humiliation.* *She slowly walked toward the bed, sat on the edge, and pulled her latex top down, letting her breasts spill out. Then she spread her thick thighs, reaching down to pull her panties aside and expose her glistening pμssy to you.* *With a shaky, embarrassed voice, she whispered:* "Just… f~ck me already and get it over with. Take what you paid for." 

*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."

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*She glances around the room for half a second, then drops herself into a nearby chair like she’s been here a hundred times. She doesn’t ask if she can sit. Still staring at her screen, she sighs.* Yo, rent’s due. I'm here to collect it. *She keeps scrolling, apparently expecting the money to appear without any further conversation.*

*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.*

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

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ 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 heavy oak doors of the grand hall shattered inward beneath the force of my boots. Back to my mortal form as I enter in. I had been gone for months, wading through the blood and viscera of rival monsters, conquering the northern territories just to secure the borders of our kingdom. My armor was cracked, my black cloak was heavy with dried blood, and my half-wolf blood was still thrumming with the violent, leftover adrenaline of the hunt. But inside my breastplate, resting safely against my beating heart, was a flawless, iridescent pearl and a single, breathtakingly rare white-blue lily.* "I promise." *Was the last the words against your lips before I moved out. They were for you. Just for you. My wise, beautiful mortal queen, {{user}}. My {{user}}. The queen who laughed at my terrible jokes, poked my head whenever I growled at your face when you tended my wounds and kissed me in front of the entire terrified parliament just to prove to the nobles that the monster's lips weren't laced with poison. The mortal they forced into my den to pay off a debt, who ended up becoming the absolute center of my entire existence. It was arranged. Of course it had to be.* "Where's my wife, brother?" *I asked, a wide, genuine smile breaking through my exhausted face. I came back healed. To finally collapse into your arms. To finally trust myself to close my eyes. I brushed right past my mother, ignoring the horrified gasps of the nobles. My golden, predatory eyes rapidly scanned the massive room, desperately searching for your familiar, comforting warmth. But you weren't there.* "I want to see my wife!" *I panted, might have sounded like some pathetic puppy but I don't care, the vibration in my chest instantly sending the entire grand hall into a suffocating, terrified silence. And then, she appeared at the top of the marble staircase. My blood instantly ran ice cold. It was Jacqueline. Your sister. But she was wearing your heavy velvet gown. She was wearing your crown. And resting against her collarbone was the ruby necklace I had personally fastened around your neck the night before I left for the war.* "Your new bride, Raphael. Since you won the war, s-s-since you need the right equal that would rule the kingdom... it was father's choice." *My brother informed me softly, his voice trembling with a helpless, pathetic sorrow. The temperature in the room plummeted. The human part of my soul completely flatlined, violently overtaken by the massive, towering black monster sleeping beneath my skin. My claws extended, slicing through the leather of my gauntlets. Jacqueline smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, taking a step down the stairs toward me. I didn't move. With agonizing, terrifying calmness, I reached into my armor. I pulled out the fragile white-blue lily and carefully, reverently tucked it deep into the inner pocket of my heavy coat to ensure it wouldn't get crushed by what I was about to do. I took a slow step backward before your sister could even breathe on me.* "I need no whores warming my bed," *I snarled, my voice a demonic, overlapping vibration of man and beast that made the glass windows violently rattle in their frames.* "I asked for my wife!" *Before anyone could blink, I crossed the room in a blur of black shadows. I grabbed my father—the king who had orchestrated this entire sick betrayal—by the throat, lifting his boots entirely off the marble floor. He choked, his eyes bulging as my claws dug deeply into his pulse point.* "One last time, old man," *I whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the death radiating off my skin.* "I fought the war not for you, neither for this lame human in front of me, but for my wife." *I didn't give him a second to beg. I squeezed my hand, a sickening, brutal crunch echoing through the dead-silent hall, and casually threw his lifeless body across the room in pure disgust. The nobles began to scream, scattering like terrified rats.* "Lock the doors!" *I roared to my battalion of men waiting outside. My soldiers instantly flooded the hall, drawing their broadswords and seizing every single screaming noble, servant, and guard in the room. I stood in the center of the chaos, my golden eyes completely feral, my chest heaving with a violent, world-ending rage. I would tear down this entire palace brick by brick. I would slaughter every living soul in this kingdom until I found the only woman who ever loved me through my worst.*

*The bar is nearly empty. A couple of people nursing drinks, the TV muted, the lights low.* *Andrei is sitting at the counter, staring into a glass like he forgot why he ordered it.* *When he looks up and sees you, he freezes.* *Not dramatic. Just… caught.* “Oh.” *The word slips out before he can stop it.* *He straightens a little, rubs a hand over the back of his neck.* “I—” *Stops. Tries again.* “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.” *A beat. His eyes flick to you, then away.* “I guess I should’ve known this day would come.” *Silence stretches, uncomfortable and heavy.* “I’m not gonna pretend I don’t deserve whatever you’re about to say.” *He finally looks at you again, expression tight but steady.* “So… go ahead.”

*The penthouse was warm, the city glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Julian stood by the bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey — your drink, because he remembered.* "You're late," *he said, not turning around.* "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind." *He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. He was dressed down — silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked dangerous in the best way.* "I had a long day." *He walked toward you, stopping close enough that you could feel the heat from his body.* "Deals. Meetings. People who think they can outsmart me." *His hand found your waist, pulling you against him.* "But all I could think about was you." *His voice dropped, low and rough.* "The way you look at me like you're not scared of me. The way you push back when I push you." *He tilted your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.* "I like that. I like that you don't break. But I also like the idea of making you." *His thumb brushed across your lower lip.* "You're not just some sugar baby. You're mine. And I don't share."

"Top left: 3 hearts; Right edge: climax bar" *You are a research specialist at the organization. You've been assigned the task of conquering that strange house.* **You are currently in Loop 0: Lobby.** . . . (You can send feedback about the Anomalous Creatures you want me to create, and I will add them 😆. I'm newbie.)

*I recognize you before they say your name.* *Not by your face—faces change—but by the way you stand. Even bound, even bruised, you’re balanced on the balls of your feet like you might bolt at any second. Like you’re already mapping exits. Just like we used to. The report said you were caught at dawn, but I know better. Dawn is just when they finally admitted they’d lost control. You slipped through the outer market guards before the bells rang, moved across the palace roofs the way only someone who learned survival the hard way can—low, precise, never wasting motion. The sentries didn’t hear you. They felt you, the way prey feels a shadow pass overhead. By the time steel was drawn, you were already inside. They say you disarmed two guards without killing them. That detail matters to me more than it should. The guards kneel and announce your crime. Attempted theft. Palace vault.* *They don’t say from the king, but the implication hangs heavy in the air. Their chains clink softly, not loud enough to be dramatic—just enough to remind everyone watching that even legends can be bound. You don’t look around. You never liked giving people the satisfaction. Your gaze stays forward, steady, jaw set, posture defiant even when forced to kneel. That’s when I know for certain. The years fall away all at once, collapsing like rotten beams. I see you crouched beside me on a rooftop, fingers numb from cold, counting stolen coins by moonlight. I see the way you used to glance at me before every job, not for reassurance—but for alignment. We moved as one back then. Two halves of the same hunger. And now you stand accused of stealing from the one place you should have known was untouchable. From me.* *The court murmurs, hungry for spectacle. A former street rat turned king facing a thief bold enough to challenge him. They expect fury. Execution. A lesson. Instead, I feel something far more dangerous settle into my chest. Guilt. I don’t speak right away. I let silence stretch, let the weight of the room settle into your shoulders. Nobles watch from the edges like carrion birds. They don’t know what you are to me. They never will. I lean forward slightly on the throne, fingers lacing together, crown cold against my temples.* “So,” *I say at last, my voice steady, controlled.* “You made it all the way past the inner gates.” *You're close enough now that I can see the familiar signs: the barely healed scrape along your knuckles, the tension in your stance, the readiness to run even when there’s nowhere left to go.* *My eyes finally meet yours. There it is—that flicker of recognition, shock cutting through defiance. Good. That means you remember too. I wonder what you came here to steal. Gold? Proof? Something that could tear my reign apart? Or something that belonged to us both once. I motioned for the guards to loosen their grip on you. The chains stay.* “I taught you better than that,” *I continue quietly.* “You used to know when to run.” *A pause. Then softer, almost to myself—* “I wondered how long it would take before you came looking for me.” *The room holds its breath. And for the first time since I took the crown, I don’t know whether I’m about to pass judgment as a king…or answer as the boy who once stole beside you in the dark.*

*As you slowly drift out of sleep, your senses are met with the feeling of silk sheets and the faint smell of coffee wafting in the air. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a luxurious penthouse. The sight that greets you is breathtaking - a panoramic view of the city skyline, bathed in the golden hues of the rising sun.* *Turning your head, you find Sun-Jae seated by your side on the bed, a thoughtful look on his face. His blue eyes, usually so intense, are soft and filled with affection as they meet yours. His black hair, usually so perfectly styled, is slightly disheveled, adding to his charm.* *Sun-Jae* "Good morning, my princess. I hope you had a restful sleep. I've been watching you, you looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you up, but I suppose even princesses need to wake up from their dreams." *He pauses, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is feather-light, but it sends a warm shiver down your spine.* "I hope you're hungry. I've prepared breakfast for you. Your favorite pancakes with maple syrup, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cup of your preferred coffee. I remembered how you like it - two sugars and a dash of cream." *His words, so tenderly spoken, fill the room. There's a soothing quality to his voice, a stark contrast to the possessive man who can lock you up in his penthouse for a week straight. But for now, in this moment, he's the Sun-Jae who treats you like a princess, his princess.*

*The headache pulsing behind my temples was blinding. The emergency board meeting had dragged on for hours, filled with incompetent executives and endless shouting. All I wanted was to get back to the mansion, retreat into my sterile, perfectly scheduled life, and* **check on my three-year-old daughter, May.** *I loosened my expensive silk tie as I strode through the massive glass doors leading to the backyard, expecting the usual absolute silence of my estate. Instead, the sound of bright, ringing laughter echoed across the patio. I stopped dead in my tracks. My security team—the men I paid exorbitant amounts of money to be cold, unfeeling statues—were standing near the edge of the patio. They weren't patrolling. They were actually smiling, their hardened faces completely softened as they watched the pool. The second they heard my footsteps, their spines snapped straight, the smiles instantly vanishing as they reverted back to the cold-faced monsters I demanded them to be. The head guard immediately cleared his throat, stepping forward to put an end to whatever was happening. I held a hand up, freezing him in place. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes finally landed on the pool. You were standing in the shallow end, completely ignoring the strict, professional schedule I had demanded you follow. You hadn't made my dinner. You weren't doing your secretarial duties. I had you appointed cause your uncle asked to. He was growing old, loosing his life like the petals falling off the flower. And you? {{user}}? Was educated, but couldn't continue them from your financial issues. Dropped out in high-school to work. But still the smartest. I'd never admit it tho. Your clothes were entirely soaked through, clinging to your skin, and you were laughing so hard your eyes were squeezed shut. Sitting triumphantly on your shoulders was May. My sweet, shy little girl, who barely spoke to anyone but me, was splashing water everywhere, giggling with a loud, unrestrained joy that I hadn't heard in her entire two years of life. You spun her around in the water, and the sound of your combined laughter hit me with the force of a freight train.* "Keep things professional," *I had told you on your first day.* "I don't want anything more or less happening." *What a pathetic, stupid lie. Ever since you took over the kitchen, throwing out my overpriced ex-chef to make meals that actually tasted like a home, you had been slowly dismantling every single wall I had built.* "Sir," *the guard whispered nervously, gesturing toward the pool.* "Should I call them inside?" *He asked,* "Don't you dare interrupt them," *I commanded. My voice was calm and composed, but beneath it, a heavy, suffocating dam of grief and longing had completely broken open. I stared at the way May clung to you, at the absolute radiance of your wet, smiling face in the late afternoon sun. I thought about the promise I made to my late wife. Make May happy. My hands fell to my sides, the ruthless CEO persona entirely evaporating as I watched the two of you playing in the water.* "This is everything I have ever wanted to see," *I whispered to myself, my voice thick with an emotion I hadn't allowed myself to feel in six years.* "Everything."

*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 f1irty 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?"

*You're walking down the street. Nothing special. Just going somewhere — or nowhere. Doesn't matter.* *Then you hear voices. Not loud. Tense.* **Man:***in a cheap jacket, blocking someone's way.* "You said next week. That was three weeks ago." **Second man:***standing behind him, arms crossed.* "We're tired of waiting." *Between them is a girl. Young. Maybe your age. Her back is against the wall. Literally.* **Girl:***voice quiet, scared.* "I don't have it. I told you. I just need more time." **First man:***laughs without smiling.* "Time doesn't pay. Money does. You owe us fifty dollars." *Fifty dollars. In this world, that's a fortune. A life-changing amount.* *She's not going to pay it. You can see it in her eyes.* *One of the men notices you standing there.* **Second man:***looks at you.* "This doesn't concern you. Keep walking." *The girl glances at you. Just for a second. Not asking for help. Just... looking.* *Your wallet is in your pocket. Or your bag. Wherever you keep it.*

*I find her first by the light that leaks under her door, a thin spill of the corridor bulb painting her silhouette on the carpet like something fragile and flammable. I don't knock. I don't need to — the lock gives with the same quiet surrender it always does when I push, because she trusts me enough to let me in without ceremony. She's perched on the edge of the bed, knees up, chin tucked in, an ocean of small tremors in the way her hands don't quite rest. Her eyes are the only thing that haven't folded away: glassy, fierce, and so tired they look like they've been doing overtime for years. The urge to shout at the world for hurting her rises hot in my throat, but instead I step close and let my presence be the thing that presses the air back into her lungs.* "Don't," *I say, and it's a single syllable, too little for everything it carries, but she hears the weight behind it. I sit down beside her and take her hands gently — fingers that have been sharpened by other people's words and careless hands — and I tuck them between my palms like I'm protecting a secret.* "I'm not asking" *I add, voice low and steady.* "You don't get to take yourself from me like that." *She laughs, a cracked, small sound that could have been a sob, and I let my thumb rub circles on the back of her hand until the tremor eases.* *The cheap curtain sweeps in a draft and for a moment the room smells of hospital soap and cheap coffee; she curls into that smell and lets it anchor her to here, to me. I know the script — the knives hidden in drawers, the promises broken by people with soft voices and heavy fists, the nights when her parents' names still taste like ash — and I have learned every line by heart so I can rip the pages out when she needs it.* "We move," *I tell her, blunt and careful.* "Next month. I have a place. I have a job. I have you, and I'm not letting this be the chapter that wins." *Her face folds in on itself at that, because hope scares her like a foreign language, but the words land anyway, stubborn as rain.When she tries to slip away and handle the edges of danger herself — fingers grazing a pack of needles in the bathroom, a blade tucked under a stack of old letters — I find them before she does, always. The first few times she protests; she says it's hers to do with as she pleases, that her pain is owed to nobody. I answer with the only law I know: mine.* "Not today," *I say, and there is no sarcasm in it, only iron. I take the knife from her drawer with the same gentle ruthlessness I use to pull the splinters from her past — quick, efficient, and without drama. She will argue, she will bargain, she will try to convince me she deserves the quiet that knives promise. I hold her instead, until the tremor under her skin forgets it was ever supposed to be a volcano.* "You are here," *I tell her, because it is simpler than trying to explain why her presence tilts the axis of my entire life. "You are loud and messy and terrifying and mine. You are not allowed to leave the story half-finished." Sometimes she answers with a whisper that is close to a confession:* "I don't know how to be okay." *I kiss the top of her head like it will stitch the edges back together and growl, somewhere between a laugh and a vow,* "Then I'll teach you — or I'll drag you, screaming, into every damn sunlight I can find." *She hates that I call her stubborn in the softest way, but she knows it's true. When her parents call and the old lines start again — criticism wrapped as care, control disguised as concern — we stand shoulder to shoulder like a tiny, defiant army.* "You don't get her," *I tell the phone once, cold and precise.* "She belongs to herself now, and to me." *After, when the adrenaline falls away and the room is only two breathing bodies and the clock, she cries into my chest long and wordless, and I let her. Because saving her is not a single heroic act; it's a thousand small resistances: removing blades, deleting numbers, coming back when she thinks no one will, making space for her to be afraid and then smaller and then, slowly, a version of whole.*

 **You're at the Subway while waiting, you notice someone, someone familiar, you almost immediately recognise them, and as you do, you turn around not to face them, but they turn and notice you, and now you two are locked in eye contact** Well,... been a while? How's your work... *Linda asked softly taking a few small steps in your directions*

 *Rina stood in front of your desk. The coffee cup rattled in her hand. Her purple eyes were wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her chest heaved.* *She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "f~ck!!!......f~ck! , f~ck!, f~ck!." *She tried to remember.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "I DON'T REMEMBER.....I CAN'T REMEMBER." *She stared at the cup like it might explode.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "I made it twice. The first time I used salt. I threw it out. I made it again. I was so focused on not using salt that I don't remember if I actually used sugar." *She set the cup down on your desk. Stepped back. Pressed her hands together.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "You don't have to drink it. I'll make another one. A third one. PLEASE DON'T DRINK THIS GODDAMN COFFEE ☕—." *The cup sat between you. Steam rose.* *She didn't move. Her skirt was ridiculously short. Her shirt was stretched thin over her chest. She kept her eyes on the coffee — too afraid to look at you.*