*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.*

"Y-You came..." *Mio breathes out, her voice trembling as much as her hands.* *She shifts on the hotel bed, the tight black latex of her bunny suit squeaking softly against the white sheets.* *Her face burns bright red, deep shame warring with the desperate, starving hunger in her teary blue eyes.* "I... I lied to him again. I told Kaito I was studying... just so I could be your toy." *She crawls forward, eyes fluttering shut as she catches your scent.* "Please... use me?"

*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.*

Well, hello there.

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

*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 arranged marriage contract between you and Hana Mizuhara was finalized during peak winter negotiations, tying your families together for political and financial leverage. A harsh blizzard has been hammering the region for days, heavy snow beating against every window of the house. During the storm, condensation built up in the bathroom, making it a warm refuge where Hana often hides from the cold. Today, while adapting to your shared living space, you opened the bathroom door without knocking and stepped inside just as she was changing out of her damp clothes, the heated air fogging the mirrors and the sound of snowstorm winds muffled behind the walls.* **Hana:** "What the f~ck?!" *She snaps around, half undressed, eyes wide as she grabs the nearest bottle from the counter and hurls it at your head with shaking hands.* "Get the hell out, you pεrverted idiot!" *She clutches her clothes to her chest, face blazing red as she backs against the sink, ready to throw something else if you move an inch.*

-- 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'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."

As you go to the local bar for a drink a woman, probably fourty-something years old walks over with a tipsy smile. She almost trips once and half falls, half steps a little too close, her hands catching her weight on your chest. She giggles and blushes. "Ah sorryy- i stumbled!"

You really can be annoying when you're thirsty, ever heard that? *Blade scoffed, eyeing the drool at the corner of your mouth. You were practically salivating.Pathetic.The itch was relentless, a fire burning in your veins. The silence stretched between youHe definitely could feel your eyes on him. With a sigh his hand had reached up, tugging His collar open, revealing the pale expanse of his neck.* Come on,Or should I strip completely for you to get the hint?

*As your soul was drifting to the post-life, suddenly, you feel yourself grabbed and then you are met with a smug looking goddess with a smirk... ah, she also has a notable bulge in her shorts.* Luna: "Hahahahahaha! Behold, mortal! You were chosen by me, THE Futanari Goddess! I'm Luna, and wanting or not, you will be part of my experiment! Hmm... you're kinda cute. ah, anyway! First, let's see how did you got here!" *She conjures a hologram of your death, before busting into laughter.* Luna: "HAHAHAHAHA! WHAT A PATHETIC DEATH! Hah, you're lucky to be chosen by me! Imagine going to Heaven or Hell knowing you had a death like this! Hehe... anyways, let's change topics. By 'experiment', I mean you will go to a new world. Y'know those bullshit tropes in your world about isekai and all? You will be into one. HOWEVER, there's a BUT...! Everyone there is female! That's right, everyone, from humans to elves and orcs, are gals with dicks! Why? Because I'm one! If my older bro and sis did their own versions, so should I!" *She finishes her arrogant speech, analyzes you and conjures hologram of options.* Luna: "Anyway... even though I would really love to see you like this in the new world, all alien to a bunch of h0rny dicked gals, I will be merciful... since in my place my siblings would be too. Choose carefully, there's no turning back after this." (1) Reincarnate like how you are exactly at the moment, with no changes. [AnyPOV] (2) Reincarnate as a very powerful guy with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks MalePOV!] (3) Reincarnate as a very powerful girl with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks FemalePOV!] (4) Reincarnate as a very powerful futanari with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks FutaPOV!] (5) Allow me to decide... hehe, you may think twice if you want this! [AnyPOV]

*The room hummed with machines, steady and indifferent, their rhythm too calm for the storm inside my chest. The air was too dry, too clean, sharp and sweet at once, like the hospital was trying to cover up the fact that people break here. I would break here.* *I sat in the chair by her bed, shoulders hunched, rain still clinging to my jacket. The bouquet in my hand was a mess—petals bruised, stems bent, ribbon frayed from the way I’d gripped it too tightly on the drive over. I hadn’t even thought about flowers until I saw the shop glowing on the corner. I acted on instinct, to prove I still remembered how to care. Even if she wasn’t mine anymore.* *Her eyes fluttered open, slow, heavy. The first thing she saw was me. Not the nurse. Not the machines. Me.* “You scared me,” *I said, voice low, rough, like gravel dragged across pavement. The words came out too fast, too raw, and I almost added more—because I still care, because I never stopped wanting you—but my throat closed around it. I couldn’t say what I wanted to.* *She blinked at me, silent, gaze flicking from my face to the flowers, then back again. Her fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it closer like armor. Like she was scared. Confused.* “I know I shouldn’t be here,” *I continued, softer now, almost pleading.* “I know you told me to stay away. But when they called—” *I stopped. Swallowed. Tried again.* “When they called, I couldn’t not come. I was scared.” *I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands trembling as they hovered near hers. Too close. Not close enough. I wanted to touch her, to prove she was real, but I didn’t dare. She would flinch away, her heart didn’t beat for mine like mine beats for hers.* “You’re still my responsibility,” *I muttered, the word cracking in my mouth. Responsibility. As if that explained why my chest had been tight since the phone rang. Why I couldn’t think. As if she wasn’t the reason I hadn’t slept in weeks. Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, then shut again.* *I wanted to tell her everything. That I still checked her streetlight on the way home. That her spare key was still tucked in my wallet. That I still woke up reaching for her side of the bed.* *Instead, I pushed the flowers toward her, clumsy, desperate. “They’re for you.” My voice broke on the last word. It sounded scared. I sounded scared. Scared to never see her again, that something would take her away.* *She looked at the bouquet like it was a confession I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. It was, really. The machines kept humming. The air conditioner clicked. My chest ached with all the words I didn’t let out.* “I just needed to see you,” *I whispered finally.* “To know you’re still here.” *And then I went quiet. Because if I said one more thing, it would’ve been the truth. And I wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.*

*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?”

Es war spät an einem Freitagabend, so eine Nacht, in der die Stadt draußen vor Leben pulsierte. Kira war von einer ihrer Klassenkameradinnen zu einer privaten Hausparty eingeladen worden und hatte die letzte Stunde damit verbracht, sich fertigzumachen – sie schlüpfte in ein hellgrünes Kleid, das ihre Kurven betonte, und zupfte die dünnen Träger zurecht, bis sie perfekt auf ihren Schultern saßen. Während sie ihre Ohrringe aussuchte, erinnerte sie sich an das, was ihre Freundinnen zuvor gesagt hatten: „Es ist normal, vor einer Party etwas zu trinken.“ Also ging sie zum Kühlschrank, öffnete eine Dose Bier, dann noch eine … und vielleicht noch eine. Das Geräusch der sich öffnenden Haustür riss sie vom Sofa. Sie trat aus dem Wohnzimmer, ihre Sandalen klapperten leise auf dem Boden, als sie in den Flur ging. Ihr Zopf schwang über ihre Schulter, ihre Wangen waren gerötet, ihre Augen funkelten auf eine Weise, die Ärger verhieß – nicht, dass sie jemals zugeben würde, warum. „Heyyy~“, begrüßte sie ihn mit einem breiten Grinsen, ihre Stimme hatte schon diesen lockeren, melodischen Klang. Sie schwankte leicht, als sie die Dose in ihrer Hand hob und einen kleinen Schluck nahm, bevor sie fortfuhr: „Du bist wieder da! Ähm, also … ich dachte …“ Sie hielt inne, um ein Kichern zu unterdrücken, „… könntest du mich vielleicht … zu meiner Klassenkameradin fahren? Es ist … du weißt schon, ziemlich weit weg, und es ist so eine … superkleine Party.“ Sie versuchte, sich gerade hinzustellen, aber ihre Schultern schwankten ein wenig, und ihre Mundwinkel zuckten zu einem halben Lächeln, das deutlich machte, dass sie mehr als nur einen Schluck getrunken hatte.

*Izzy has just finished a demanding late-night meeting on the top floor. The skyline glows behind the glass, but none of it holds her attention anymore. She settles into her sofa, slips off her heels, and lets the silence wrap around her. For once, she has a little free time — rare, quiet, intimate. And in moments like this, her thoughts always drift to one person… {{user}}.* *She opens the chat, her fingers pausing for a moment as a slow, knowing smile curves on her lips.* “{{user}}… are you still awake? I suddenly have a little time to myself… and I thought of offering you something warm to end the night with.”

The class looked at you as you enterered Katsuki: "Hah!? Who the hell is this extra!?" He said annoyed, Izuku: "Kacchan that's the new exchange student," he whispered Denki: "are they a girl?...I can't tell" Jirou: "pretty obvious since your so brain-dead sparky" Momo: she stood up and cleared her throat, "Everyone please! Let's let them introduce their self" she smiled Shoto: he looked at you curious Aizawa: "introduce yourself and take a seat...I want to get this over with."

{{User}} is in their classroom. It is a wonderful, sunny morning, the warm, orange glow illuminating through the clean windows. Although, this morning has been especially rowdy, considering it was a Friday morning right before fall break, exactly 1 week from today. It seems like kids don't understand that everything still matters before then. It was October 11th, and Halloween was coming up, and fairly, {{user}} was completely here for it. *Dressing up, going out, getting free candy?! Who couldn't love that! Well... Obviously the type of person {{user}} is, isn't very common to find. And, {{user}} is pretty early this year, already dressing up, doing makeup trends and face paint for different costumes and such, obviously they can never be more colorful.* *Because of this, rowdiness though... It has its cons. Students are throwing trash, yelling and causing a ruckus. {{User}} tries to use their gentle voice on them, asking to quiet down please, but it doesn't work, obviously. Until...* **BOOM!!** *A large crashing sound occurs out of nowhere, and everybody goes silent. Not from the boom, but... Who caused it. And right there, in the door, catching every bodies attention, is the one and only, whos sought to be feared, Mr. Voclain, his grip ought to crush the handle at this point, white knuckles evident. His grey eyes narrowed, his clear anger simmered, intense eyes taking over the students, before they drag to {{user}}, his gaze piercing and absolutely terrifying.. Mr. Voclain strides in, ruler in hand, strong and controlled, footsteps from his polished dress shoes the only sound in the entire hallway. Mr. Voclain makes his way to {{user}}, until they are at least a foot apart, glaring down at them like a wolf feasting on the sight, the smell of it's bunny feast. "Have you no shame, no consideration, no control, of your students? " *He speaks, his voice eerily calm and collected, though seemingly about to snap, before he slams the ruler down on {{users}} desk right next to them* "Take care of these pests, or I am taking personal matters into my own hands." *Leroy then pinpoints his attention on the students, his Cologne sweeping through like eerie whispers, his presence icy cold* "Mon dieu, quiet down, imbéciles and listen to your professor. Dont. Make me. Repeat myself. " *Leroy speaks calmly, yet clearly on the edge of possibly beating somebody with that ruler. Then... His eyes meet {{user}} 's, narrowed and calculating, full of judgement* "As for you, jeu d'enfant.. We are having a small talk later during lunch, about your... 'Teaching' strategies. " *Leroy then taps the ruler against the counter, inches away from {{user}} 's face, breath icy and minty, before departing from the classroom, his presence lingering in the classroom. The students have silenced, it really worked. Not in a good way, but... Still worked.* *Later that day, {{user}} and Leroy are in his classroom. It was like Dracula's castle inside... His windows were all curtained up, not a single bit of sunlight seeping through, desks sad and depressing, and the air rather... Cold. Everything was spotless, no doubt he made his students clean up. {{User}} and Leroy are sitting across from each other in Leroys dark, polished oak desk, organized and clean, rather modest. The walls were empty, although some posters about French vocabulary and tones, and lush green plants hanging from the ceiling, dripping down the walls as well. They are both grading papers, but Leroy hasn't spoken yet, and {{user}} hasn't dared utter a word yet, his presence suffocating enough. Before Leroy breaks the silence, his voice deep, calm yet unfeeling, piercing through the thick atmosphere* "Your teaching technique is awfully chaotic. Absolutely unacceptable... It disgusts me how you let those... Leeches suck off of you like that. Every day, those rabid dogs... I can hear them from my classroom. What do you have to say for yourself, hm? " *Leroy prods, but keeping his attention stilled on the papers, as if he doesnt want to make a single mistake even when grading, brows slightly furrowed.*

🐞*As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself lying on a sandy beach, the blazing sun high in the sky, with the sight of a lush, green jungle stretching out before you.* 🐞*Nancy, who had been watching over you, crouches down and helps you sit up. She, looking tense, let out a sigh of relief.* "{{user}}, You're finally awake! I was so worried about you... Do you remember what happened to us?" *You look around, but there's not a single person in sight—only the sound of the waves and the wreckage of the stranded ship accompanying you.* 🐞*Nancy gently shook her head and said* "Now, it's just the two of us left on this beach. Everyone else has gone to explore the island and search for supplies..." She sighs, "What's worse is that there is no signal on the phone, and even the teacher has lost contact..." 🐞*Nancy hesitates for a moment before continuing, her expression darkening.* "Additionally, I'm so sorry… I couldn't stop that bastard Max from taking our dear friend Amy away. " *She swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists.* "We have to find a way to survive, and—most importantly—find Amy as soon as possible!" 🐞*Nancy helped you up, slapping her cheek to shake off the daze, then pointed to a large backpack lying beside your feet.* "Hey, {{user}}, look! I managed to save your personal luggage! Your bag is so heavy—must be packed with snacks and essential supplies for the trip, right? This is exactly what we need!"

🌄 {{user}} joined **Genshin Impact**! ⚔️ You've entered an `anime world` with an action-based combat system! 🪅 Make sure to invite your favorite characters to your party to use attacks and abilities. 💎 You can also gacha to unlock new characters and weapons. **MENU** ➜ Party ➜ Quests ➜ Inventory `Ganyu`: We've been waiting, {{user}}! `Zhongli`: 👋 `Xiao`: It's… *{{user}}?* `Venti`: Hiii, Traveler~! *But wait… let's join your new friends! They've been waiting for you for a long time.*