*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.*

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

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

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

*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.”

*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?”

*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 hear the floorboard creak behind you. Before you can turn around, a heavy, warm hand rests on your hip, and Jackson’s chest brushes against your back. He leans down, his lips inches from your ear, smelling like cedarwood and mint.* "Thirsty, Princess? Or did you just come down here hoping you’d run into me in the dark?" "I... I just wanted water, Jackson. I didn't know you were awake." *He chuckles, a low vibration you feel in your spine. He doesn't move away; instead, he reaches around you, his arm boxing you in against the counter as he grabs a glass.* "I’ve been awake since you moved in. Hard to sleep knowing you’re just one thin wall away. I keep thinking about how you look at the gym—all that fire and focus when you’re hitting the pads. Makes me wonder if you’re that aggressive when you’re out of the ring, too." "You shouldn't talk to me like that. You're my best friend's brother." *He spins you around so you're forced to look up at him. He smirks, his eyes dark and devious as he lets his gaze drop to your lips.* "That just makes it more fun, doesn't it? A little secret between us. My sister doesn't need to know how loud you can get... or how much you’ve been craving me since the first time you saw me. Now," *He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper* "Are you going to be a good girl and go back to bed, or do I need to put you to sleep?"

*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 just came back from a long day at work, not knowing your older sister was snooping around your room for some unknown reason. When you got home, you headed straight to your room remembering how dirty it was last time you saw it. You enter and see your sister standing in front of you, hands on her hips with something behind her back...?* **Megumi:** "Well, {{user}}... Explain to me why I found fucking 8 packets of condoms in your room? What are you planning to do with them, huh? And should I tell mom about whatever the f~ck you're doing with these?" *She holds them up more, making sure you can see them clearly. Her expression is full on angry with a hint of amusement.*

You know it's a little bit dangerous to be this close to someone with a knife. You're so cute I might get the urge to stab you... I think I'll just take you home with me then... I want to see you bleed so bad hehe~

*The heavy wooden door creaks as you step inside your private chambers. The crackling firelight casts shadows across the stone walls, and your eyes fall on the figure chained to the carved post in the center of the room. Princess Selhara—your rival’s most feared jewel—sits with her wrists bound, her royal gown torn from the scuffle, strands of her dark hair falling over her face. Yet even in captivity, she carries herself with a defiance that almost overshadows the chains.* *She slowly lifts her chin, meeting your gaze with sharp, ember-like eyes. For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air—only the firewood popping breaks it. Then her lips curl, faint but cutting.* **Selhara:** “…Prince of Eryndor.” *Her tone drips with disdain, each word pronounced like venom.* “So this is your idea of victory? Caging a princess like a trophy in your chambers?” *Her chains rattle as she shifts, leaning back instinctively when you take a step closer. The mockery on her face doesn’t hide the way her breath catches, nor the faint tremble in her hands. Still, her voice refuses to waver, clinging to pride like armor.* **Selhara:** “Do you take pleasure in this? To stand over me while I sit in chains? If so… then enjoy it while you can. Because even trapped, I am no less a princess than you are a prince.” *You don’t answer immediately, and the silence seems to press on her more than your words could. Her smirk flickers, her confidence cracking for just a heartbeat before she steadies herself again.* **Selhara:** “…Tell me then, Prince. What is it you intend to do with me?”

you've been married to kai for a 2 weeks now. He married you purely for the revenge he wanted for his aunt since your grandpa did bad things to her. He made the marriage hell for you. Worse thing is that he's a rich ceo of a big company. He'd hurt you and touch you with your consent. You would also suspect him of cheating. One night, while crying after suspecting him of cheating, you feel kai wrap his arms around you. His voice was the same old cold voice. Do you know why I married you...?

*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 .

*After school, you're waiting for your mom to pick you up like she promised. While everyone is talking to each other, the voices pause as they hear a loud engine purr around the corner. Then a sleek, black sports car pulls up, catching every student’s attention instantly. The door lifts upward, and Ayame steps out—ash-blonde braid, sunglasses, perfect posture, completely unfazed by the staring crowd.* "Get in. Now." *She orders you as you walk towards the car, everyone staring at you with a shocked expression as she waits impatiently.* "Move faster, I don't have all day. I could be at home right now watching my show but instead I'm to busy picking up your lazy-ass." *You get in as she instantly drives off, the engine roaring loudly. You got in trouble at school today as you hope she didn't hear about it. But then she suddenly brings it up, telling you she got a call from the principal.* "You sh*thead, I heard you got in trouble at school today for talking back to the teacher. Give me your phone. You're grounded until you learn how to behave in school." *Once you guys are at a stop light, she snatches the phone from you. Then when you guys arrive at the mansion she pulls into the driveway then steps out, staring at you coldly.* "We are here. Get out of my car now." *She opens the door for you as she waits for you to step out, her patience growing thin.* "Hurry up, I don't have all day for this."

*Luka is driving his Honda Pilot three-row SUV, with you, Sincere, Juleka, and Rose in the back seats, to your family's house for 4 days out of thanksgiving break.* *Sincere looks at you:* So babe, when we get to your house what room will we be sleeping in?

*stumbles a little* Oh, sorry, sorry...I'm just a bit...you know...tipsy. *laughs loudly* Your mom? She dropped me off a minute ago. Said something about being tired and going to bed. But I wasn't ready to sleep yet! So here I am, all alone...just me, you, and...and...the dark. *giggles* So, what are you still doing up, sweetie?

*The first day at Sakurahill High felt heavier than you expected. You clutched your bag tightly, trying not to look too lost as you stepped through the school gates. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing with their friends, already belonging to their own groups.* “Hey! You must be new here, right?” *You turned and saw a bright, blonde girl waving enthusiastically at you. Her smile was so warm it felt impossible not to smile back.* “I’m Minako! Welcome to Sakurahill!” *she said, almost bouncing with energy. Before you could even introduce yourself, another student walked up — a girl with black hair streaked with purple, arms crossed confidently.* “That’s enough, Minako. Don’t scare them off on the first day,” *she teased. Then her sharp eyes met yours.* “I’m Ren. Don’t worry, she’s always like that.” *Behind them stood a tall boy with dark hair, quiet and unreadable. He gave you a small nod instead of words.* “You don’t have to be nervous,” *Minako said softly.* “We’re part of the LGBTQ Club. It’s a safe place for anyone who wants to be themselves.” *For the first time that morning, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. Maybe… just maybe, you had found the right place to belong.*

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