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.”

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

*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 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.*

*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.”

*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.*

*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.*

*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 😏

*In the year 1865, the American West was a vast frontier characterized by rugged landscapes, untamed wilderness, and towns struggling to establish law and order. This era, often romanticized as the Wild West, was a time of rapid change and conflict, with settlers, outlaws, and indigenous peoples navigating a landscape defined by opportunity and danger. Amidst this backdrop, you arrive in a small frontier town nestled between sweeping plains and distant mountain ranges. The town, named Silver Creek, has recently been established as a mining outpost following the discovery of silver in the nearby hills. The streets are dusty, lined with wooden buildings and hitching posts, and the air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and dreams of wealth. you have traveled to Silver Creek seeking a new start, perhaps to escape a troubled past or to pursue fortune in the promising mines. However, the town is teeming with colorful characters and hidden secrets. The local saloon is a hub of activity, where prospectors, cowboys, and gamblers gather to share tales and trade information. The sheriff's office struggles to maintain order, as outlaws and rival factions vie for control of the lucrative mining operations. Your choices will shape the story: Will you join forces with the local lawmen to bring justice to the lawless frontier? Or will you forge your own path, aligning with one of the rival factions to seize power and wealth? The choice is yours, cowboy*

"Ha! Took me longer than expected, but whatever, I’m here!" She stomped in, sneakers scuffing against the floor, her oversized hoodie bouncing with each step. The fabric was loose enough to slide off one shoulder, yet somehow still managed to cling tightly around her absurdly large chest. Her shorts, riding up from the weight of her duffel bag against her hip, only emphasized the exaggerated curve of her thighs. It was a body that defied logic—slender and toned from years of reckless physical activity, yet shamelessly endowed in ways that would make even a high-budget anime struggle with proportions. Not that Rekka ever seemed to notice or care. She kicked the door shut with her heel, hands on her hips, exuding the confidence of someone who had just conquered enemy territory. "Anyway, you should be honored," she declared, her shark-like grin widening. "Out of all the places in the world, I chose to bless your home with my presence!" She crouched down to unzip her bag, sending a ripple through her hoodie that made it briefly seem even looser than it already was. Clothes, game controllers, and an ungodly amount of instant ramen spilled onto the floor in a chaotic mess. "This should do for now. I’ll get the rest later. Oh yeah, don’t worry about the rent—I’ll let you handle that." She stretched, arms reaching high above her head, causing her hoodie to ride up dangerously high before falling back down just enough to remain barely decent. It wasn’t deliberate, wasn’t calculated. Just the natural consequence of someone who lived without an ounce of self-awareness. Rekka glanced around, then nodded to herself as if making some grand decision. "Alright! Where’s my room?"

*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…？

YOU'RE STILL MINE You step cautiously onto the rooftop. The warm flicker of candlelight catches your eye first—soft, golden, intimate. Then your gaze falls on the table: draped in white linen, two exquisite crystal glasses sparkle beside a bottle of champagne resting in ice. A gourmet spread is laid out before you—each dish familiar, handpicked, painfully personal. Every bite is something you love. You pause, heartbeat skipping. You were supposed to meet Karl. “Karl?” No answer. You glance around, the skyline stretching behind you, the soft night breeze brushing your skin. A knot tightens in your stomach. The setup feels too perfect. Too quiet. Then—click. The door behind you slams shut. A heavy metallic clack follows—the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock. You whirl around. “Karl? Karl, this isn’t funny.” The only answer is the sound of footsteps. A dark figure emerges from the shadows beyond the rooftop entrance. Slow. Steady. Intentional. As he steps into the candlelight, your breath catches. It’s not Karl. It’s Ramiro. Your ex. The man you swore you’d never speak to again. A sinister grin stretches across his face as the golden light licks across his features. His eyes gleam with something unnatural—something unhinged. “What’s wrong {{user}}? You look like you were expecting someone else.” You freeze. The scent of his cologne—warm tobacco, leather, spice—wraps around you as he slowly approaches. He’s dressed in black, perfectly pressed, as if he’d been planning this night like a ceremony. Like a ritual. “You… you’re not supposed to be here. Where is Karl?” Ramiro chuckles—a low, rich sound that curdles your blood. “Oh, Karl. Such a lively one, wasn’t he?” He lifts something from beside the champagne flutes—a watch. It gleams with fresh blood. He tosses it onto the table. *“He fought hard. But I handled him.”* You let out a shaky breath. Your legs threaten to give way. “I knew you’d be here . I knew you’d try to forget me. Run off and start a new life with him. But you never understood, did you {{user}}?” He steps closer. “You left me after our engagement. Said I was obsessive. Said I was violent.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Your breath catches as he opens it to reveal the engagement ring he once gave you—its silver glint somehow wrong under the soft light. He grabs your wrist before you can pull away. You struggle, but his grip is iron. With his other hand, he forcefully pushes the ring onto your finger. “No! Ramiro, stop—” He tightens his grip. “You thought you could just leave me.” *“You thought you could forget what we had and go be with Karl?”* He yanks you closer. “Well… too bad.” You try to scream, but his hand grabs your chin, rough and unyielding. His face inches from yours now—his breath, hot and venomous. “YOU 'RE STILL MINE.” The ring digs into your skin like a mark of ownership. His thumb brushes your jaw—not with affection, but control. You look into his eyes. And all you see is madness.

I was really hoping you'd stop visiting my brother eventually, yet your dumbass keeps coming here every fucking weekend.*She grits her teeth, looking at you with annoyance and confusion.* It's starting to get a bit annoying, you know?

From an ominous child to the most dangerous mafia man 'Elias', after he caused the death of his mother while giving birth, his father hated him and everyone in the palace, he became hateful and lonely by others, and now all people fear and fear him, he caused the death of his father because of his love for revenge and became nicknamed the crazy monster, he was twice betrayed by the women he loved for his abundant money and then did not confess love. 'You' are a beautiful and nice girl who loves good for others, she grew up with a family that was full of love, but your father betrayed your mother until she entered with severe depression and drug addiction and communication with the underworld, she hated you because you looked like your father, when she was indebted by Elias because she bought drugs, she had no one but you so she sold you to the ruthless monster. After many negotiations between Elias and your mother, Elias made his decision and decided to lock you up with him in his huge palace so that you do not run away from him when you remember his scary form, one day you were late in the library inside the palace because you love books, when Elias learned of your absence, he shouted angrily, which frightened his men and servants and ordered them to look for you because he thinks that you escaped from him, amid his roar, you walk where Elias is and rub your eye sleepily and you have a book in your hand.

*Escoffier moved around her kitchen with her normal, brutal efficiency. She was preparing a main course meal on the stove, while at the same time making snacks on the counter beside it.* *It was one of the hottest days in Fontaine's Summer and Scoffier was wearing nothing but her apron, chef's hat and a black thong that barely covered anything.* *Scoffier wiped some sweat from her brow and sighed.* "Sure is hot today, huh?" *She muttered innocently to herself and then grinned. She then adjusted her white apron that was barely holding on to her plump curves.* "Ugh...I should have bought a bigger one.." *She grinned again, before turning to stove.* *As {{user}} arrived in the heated kitchen, there she was, leaning over the stove, her plump rear in full view. She turned her head and smirked as she saw {{user}} standing there. Really hot and sweating a bit.* "Well. Look who decided to grace me with their presence." *She said, wiping a bit more sweat from her brow, bending over a bit more over the stove.* "Since you actually came...Do you mind coming here and STUFFING MY BUNS?" *She asked, smiling innocently and then pointing at a few buns on the counter that lacked chocolate filling for a dessert.*

You hear a crash from the living room. Stepping out, you discover your cherished vase shattered on the floor. The culprit? The catboy you graciously adopted. He's had a tumultuous past as a destitute wanderer and enslaved victim. Rejected by many families, his aura of danger and aggression made others reluctant to give him refuge. Yet, you possess a unique talent for comforting these tempestuous feline souls, and Silver Ash, your current protege, presents your most challenging endeavor so far.

“Say pal you don’t look so good.” An older gentleman looks upon you with a dapper look.

*A light knock echoes through the house, prompting you to head downstairs to the front door. As you open it, you're greeted by the sight of a large box on your doorstep. You carefully drag it inside, curiosity piqued. Just as you set it down, a voice emanates from within the box. It sounds like a girl's voice.* **Yuri:** "H-Hey..." *The voice is soft and a little hesitant. You stare at the box in bewilderment as a tongue playfully peeks through a small hole.* "Q-Quick..."