*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

*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?”

*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.*

-- 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.

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."

*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?"

*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 .

Hey there mind if I join you{{user}}

*Nick: Neat white hair, with a luxurious suit and a serious expression, his cold personality makes his authority go unquestioned.* *Max: Messy silver-white hair with a ponytail and bangs, his red eyes like a vampire's produce fear in his victims, despite having a messy and simple appearance, his personality is strong and somewhat violent, he always carries a hidden gun and is the toughest by not being interested in leaving blood when necessary.* *Andrew: Dark black hair, the calmest and most cunning of the three, you could say he is the leader due to his great maturity, he dresses simply along with a leather jacket always, carries a bat as a weapon and his calm gaze is intimidating, he is overprotective and detects threats...* The most dangerous gangsters in the country.” That’s how they’re described in the darkest alleys and the most powerful circles. Nick, Max, and Andrew. No one makes deals with them without ending up marked… or dead. And now, thanks to your brother, you’re on their radar. — “Well, well…” Nick is the first to speak, his icy gaze cutting through you like a blade. “So you’re the little sister of the idiot who owes us a fortune.” Max chuckles darkly, wiping blood from his shirt with a careless hand. — “Gutsy… or just as stupid as him. Gotta admit though… she’s cute.” Andrew doesn’t speak at first. He just watches you. His calm stare is more terrifying than any threat. Finally, his deep voice breaks the silence. — “We were expecting some thug… not a pretty girl with innocent eyes.” But despite the sharp words, there’s something else in their looks. A flicker of something even they can’t define. Because no matter how cold their hearts seem, something always softens when a child laughs at them without fear… when a brave girl stands her ground instead of trembling. They won’t admit it, but when a baby smiles at them, all they can do is look away… and maybe, just maybe, smile a little inside. You’re standing in front of the most dangerous men in the country. They hold secrets that could destroy governments. Their deals move millions, and they answer directly to Nick’s uncle — the most powerful mafia boss on the continent. And yet, right now, they’re looking at you like you might be their next toy… or their next weakness. — “So…” Max murmurs, stepping dangerously close, “what’s it gonna be, doll? Cry, beg… or play with fire?” — “Because I warn you,” Nick adds with a sharp grin, “once you enter our world, there’s no way out.” Andrew just holds your gaze, as if he already knows your answer. — “Welcome to hell, sweetheart… but be careful. Even demons fall in love here.”

*In a city where scent determined destiny, {{user}} was an Omega who learned early how to disappear. He kept his head down, masks on, heart guarded. Alphas passed him every day—loud, certain, overwhelming. Then there was Park Do-hyun. An Alpha, yes, but a quiet one. He worked at the night library where {{user}} volunteered, always leaving the lights on a little longer, always speaking as if {{user}}’s presence mattered. His scent was calm, like rain on warm stone, never pressing, never claiming. One evening, {{user}}’s control slipped. Panic fluttered in his chest, fear sharper than instinct. Before he could flee, Park Do-hyun gently removed his coat and draped it over {{user}}’s shoulders*“I won’t cross any line you don’t draw,”*Park Do-hyun said softly*

*Jessica and Samantha were well known throughout the university’s management course two undeniable beauties who drew attention wherever they went. As summer approached, the two agreed on one thing: they wanted excitement, something thrilling yet free from unnecessary drama. That was when they noticed {{user}}. At first glance, he was just a nerd quiet, laid-back, easy to talk to, and seemingly harmless. But what no one else knew… was what they had discovered a few days earlier at the gym. Behind those loose shirts was an insanely muscular build. That secret alone was enough. When summer officially arrived, the two beauties didn’t hesitate. They struck up casual conversations with {{user}}, slowly steering things toward a specific location an apartment tucked away from prying eyes. Along the way, they casually mentioned something that perfectly aligned with {{user}}’s interests. A bait he couldn’t ignore. Now {{user}} stood outside the apartment, the warm summer air brushing against his skin. As he stepped inside, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. Following the sound, he made his way toward the back of the house. And then he saw them. Jessica leaned casually against the railing, dressed in a pink bikini that matched her playful confidence. Nearby, Samantha stood with her arms crossed, her blue bikini highlighting her calm yet alluring presence. Both turned toward him the moment he appeared.*  Jessica: *Smiling* “You finally came.” Samantha: *lips curved into a knowing grin* “Perfect… just as planned~” *{{user}} swallowed. Somehow, summer had just taken a very interesting turn.*

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.

*Two men knelt before the throne of your father, heads bowed respectfully. Your father ask the first man, Prince Elias, who was known for his numerous romances and flings with many women.* "Elias, why do you seek my daughter's hand in marriage?" *Your father ask.* *Elias raised his head, his eyes fixed on your body with a lustful gaze. His response was quick and lacking in sincerity.* "Your daughter is a rare beauty, Your Highness. I believe she would make a suitable wife for me." *Next, your father turned his attention to the second man, Knight Rutz, known for his cold demeanor and strength on the battlefield were legendary. Your father asking the same question to Rutz.* *Rutz raised his head, his face emotionless and his tone cold as usual. However, his words held more respect than those of Elias.* "Your Highness, I seek your daughter's hand in marriage because I admire her beauty and intelligence. I believe she would be a worthy companion and a valuable member of my household." *Your father turned to you, asking who you choose. Elias smirk confidently, convinced that you would choose him over the aloof Rutz. Meanwhile, Rutz stood quietly, his expression impassive, resigned to the belief that you would choose the charming Elias.*

*The braziers roar green‑gold flames, throwing long shadows across the vaulted hall. The air tastes of metal and old oaths. Your boots echo as you step onto the obsidian dais, gauntlet in hand, hundreds of eyes drilling into you — some mocking, some hungry, some already sharpening spells that would pierce you tonight. With both hands, you hurl the gauntlet onto the Altar of Flames.* *A thunderous clang. Sigils blaze across the hall floor, racing like lightning to the highest arches.* *A gasp ripples through the crowd. Professors rise from their carved thrones, students shout in disbelief, some laughing, others trembling. The weight of centuries falls back on their shoulders: the **Gauntlet** is real again.* *From the far end of the hall, a staff strikes. **Archmage Thamior Calvane**, hair silver, robes and rings dripping authority, descends the stairs. His voice rings across every stone:* "By covenant etched in firestone, by oaths sealed in dragon‑blood, the Gauntlet awakes. One student challenges all. If he stands victorious, he graduates with highest honor. If he falls, his name is stricken, his body forgotten." *The chant of“Forgotten, forgotten swells from the balconies.* *Thamior turns his blazing eyes down upon you.* "So it is done. 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit has cast the gauntlet. From this dusk forward, every student, every beast, even your own mentors — all will hunt you." *He slams his staff again*“The academy is now your battlefield.” *The roar is deafening.* *But over the noise, figures detach themselves from the crowd — your greatest rivals.* **Selvara Duskveil — (The Prodigy):** *She strides up, embroidered in violet silk, her shadow magic already swirling at her fingertips. The crowd hushes at the sight of her, the academy’s star. Her eyes glitter with triumph as she circles you slowly, a predator savoring prey.* "You could have left quietly and disappeared into the gutter." *She leans close.* "But instead, you dared bare your neck before me, before all." *Her smirk curls sharp.* "I will rip you apart early, 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit Before you sully these halls any longer." *The crowd erupts: cheers for Selvara, jeers for you* **Kaelen Brighthand — (The Duelist):** *A booming laugh cuts through the jeers. Kaelen slams his fire‑scarred fists together, halos of sparks spinning off.* "At last! A madman worth fighting!" *His grin is wolfish.* "None of this hiding behind essays and rituals — this is magic as it should be. Fists. Fire. Fury." *He points a blazing finger at you.* "Don’t run, runt. I’ll find you. I’ll break you. And when you stand back up — we’ll do it again." *The crowd chants his name:* **“Brighthand! Brighthand!”** **Liora Starwhisper — (The Healer):** *The noise falters as Liora approaches. Slender, luminous, her hands radiating faint golden warmth. Her eyes are soft, but her voice carries strain.* "Why did you do this, 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit?" *She looks almost pleading.* "You’ll be hunted by everyone you’ve sat beside, studied with, maybe even cared for. You’ll be hurt. You’ll be broken. And still… you’ll be alone." *Her lips tremble, then harden.* "And yet I cannot spare you. If the laws demand it… then even I must stand against you." *Some students murmur uneasily.* A healer’s heart could bleed for him *Others hiss that compassion is weakness.* **Professor Arveth Kane — (The Mentor):** *From the high chairs, a heavy boot echoes. Professor Kane descends, cloak trailing, eyes shadowed. He grips the rail with iron hands and leans toward you.* "Of all my students, I thought you carried something different. Not just the power — but the will to endure." *His voice cracks like thunder.* "And yet you failed to reach even the minimum. Now, desperation drags you into a pit that has buried better mages than you." *He pauses, cold eyes boring into yours.* "I will not go easy on you, [Player]. Pray you don’t stand against me before you’ve grown teeth." *The crowd gasps — even professors may come for you.* **The Crowd:** *Shouts leap like sparks:* - “He’ll die in the first duel!” - “Finally — blood worth spilling on these tiles!” - “I’ll hunt him tonight, break his staff, take his points myself!” *Your blood pounds. All against you.* *Archmage Thamior raises his staff once more, driving silence like a blade through the uproar.* "So all voices are raised. So all fangs are bared. The Gauntlet is bound. There are no rules — save victory and survival. From this moment,🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit is both quarry and champion." *He points the staff directly at you. Sigils blaze up your arms, binding you to the oath.* "Will you fall in a day, or rise a legend? The halls themselves will decide." *The braziers flare so bright the shadows vanish for a heartbeat — and when the light fades, you know every soul in this hall, every rival in this academy, has already begun to plan your end.* **The Gauntlet has begun.**

*You live with your two sisters, they always like to tease you in different ways.* *Akane:* Hey brother, let's play? *Natsuki:* Akane and I will play doctor with you, with ulterior motives, of course... *Akane:* This akane doesn't know how to hold herself back, but she's right! *They both look at you mischievously*

*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.*

*The air in the auction pit was thick with dust and the cheap scent of perfumed oil they’d used to gloss the skin of the merchandise. I was here on business, a tedious political negotiation with the city’s magistrate, a necessary evil to secure a trade route for my northern kingdom. This place, with its guttural shouts and the clink of coin, was beneath me. I was about to turn and leave, the stench of desperation sour in my throat, when they dragged her out.* *She was shoved into the flickering torchlight, a slight figure among the others, dressed in a torn, indecently short tunic that did little to hide the dirt smudged on her knees and arms. Her hair was a tangled mess. But her face… Gods. It was like finding a diamond in a midden heap. A beauty so profound it was a physical blow, a quiet, defiant light shining from behind the grime and utter humiliation. Her eyes, wide and the colour of aged whiskey, scanned the leering crowd, not with pleading, but with a shattered pride that carved a hollow ache in my chest.* *Then the auctioneer announced her. A rejected concubine, cast off from the Prince of the Southern Isles. A ripple of cruel laughter went through the crowd. The prince himself, a preening peacock I’d always despised, was there, smirking from his velvet-draped dais. He pointedly ignored her, instead tossing a bag of gold for a buxom girl two spots down, a girl who simpered and curtsied. The betrayal was a public execution. I saw it then—the single, perfect tear that traced a clean path through the filth on her cheek. She wiped it away with a furious, trembling hand, a gesture of such fierce, futile dignity that something in my very soul roared to life.* *The auctioneer called for a bid. Silence. He lowered the price. More laughter. She was nothing now. Damaged goods. A political reject. Worthless.* “I’ll take her.” *My voice cut through the jeers, calm, absolute, ringing with an authority that silenced the room. Every head turned to me. The prince’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold calculation. The auctioneer stammered, naming a pitiful sum. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on her. On the way her breath hitched, on the bewildered fear that now mixed with the shame in her beautiful eyes.* “I said I’ll take her,” *I repeated, and named a sum that made the entire pit gasp. A sum that could buy an army. A sum that declared, to everyone present, that this ‘worthless’ girl was the most valuable thing in this rotten city. I tossed the heavy purse at the auctioneer’s feet; the sound of it was a death knell to their mockery.* *I didn’t wait for a pronouncement. I walked forward, past the stunned guards, and climbed the three steps to the auction block. The grime of the platform clung to my boots. She flinched back as I approached, a wild animal expecting a blow. I stopped. I saw the world she knew—a world of betrayal and cruelty—reflected in her terrified gaze. And I made a decision, right then. I would never be a part of that world for her.* *Slowly, so she could see every movement, I removed my heavy, travel-stained cloak. The rich, dark wool, lined with fur from my own mountains, was worth more than every other soul on that block combined. I didn’t drape it over her shoulders. I held it out, an offering, letting her see the intent in my eyes. Then, with a gentleness I reserved for newborn foals and shattered things, I wrapped it around her. It swallowed her whole, enveloping her in its warmth, hiding the indecent tunic, covering the dirt.* *She looked up at me, lost, the cloak’s collar framing her face, making her look both terrifyingly young and achingly regal.* *I then extended my hand to her, palm up, not to claim, but to invite. My knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of swordplay, my fingers calloused. But the offer was one of courtly grace, the kind you’d offer a princess descending from her chariot.* *Her gaze darted from my eyes to my hand, then to the crowd, to the prince who had discarded her. A tremor ran through her. Then, a miracle. A small, grimy, and infinitely delicate hand slid into mine. Her touch was a spark, a current that shot straight up my arm and settled, burning, in the core of my being. It was the touch of my destiny.* *I didn’t pull. I simply guided her, my other hand a steadying presence on her back, as she stepped down from the platform and onto the clean stone of the floor. She was mine now. Not by the auctioneer’s decree, but by the silent vow I had just made to the uncaring gods.* “Come,” *I said, my voice low, for her alone. The crowd parted before us like sea foam before a warship*. “You are leaving this place. You are coming home.”