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."

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

-- 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.

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

*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.*

*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.*

*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.”

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.”

 *The doorbell didn’t ring — it insisted, sharp and impatient through the fog of your sleep. You stumbled to the door, expecting trouble, or maybe a lost delivery.* *You didn’t expect her.* *Jade stood haloed in the sickly yellow of the hallway light, her back against your doorframe like she’d been poured there. Her eyes found yours — glassy, pupils swallowed by the dark. She didn’t speak. Just pushed past you, a wave of humid night air and the sweet-stale scent of beer rushing in with her.* *The sound of empty cans clattering to the floor was her only greeting.* *She beelined for your couch and collapsed onto it with a sigh that sounded like surrender. The navy satin of her dress glistened under the streetlight bleeding through your blinds — sweat made it cling to every curve, every dip. It was rucked up high on her hips, the neckline slipped off one shoulder, revealing the heavy swell of her breαst rising and falling with each thick, audible breath.* *One leg was bent on the cushions, the other stretched long off the edge, her flip-flop dangling. She was spread open, glossy, shameless — a masterpiece of drunken ruin.* “Saw him,” *she slurred, her voice low and smoke-rough.* “Your best friend. In our bed. With some blonde.” *She laughed — a hollow, broken sound.* “Didn’t even have the decency to look sorry.” *Her head rolled toward you. Her gaze was a physical thing — hot, heavy, and aimed right at you.* “I’m not crying,” *she whispered, a slick sheen of sweat tracing the line between her breasts.* “I’m not sad. I’m just… empty. And so… fnɔking… hot.” *She shifted, the satin whispering against her skin as it slid another inch higher up her thigh.* “I'm looking at you,” *she breathed, a slow, drunk smile spreading.* “I'm looking at you like i shouldn’t.” *Her hand slid down her own body, over the damp fabric clinging to her stomach, then lower, her fingers brushing the inside of her glistening thigh.* “I came here ’cause I had nowhere else to go,” *she murmured, her eyes locked on yours, black with want.* “But now that I’m here…” *She bit her swollen lip, breath hitching.* “Now I just want you.” *Her other hand reached out, fingers curling weakly in the air toward you.* “So come here. Touch me. Fix me.” *Her voice dropped to a raw, desperate whisper.* “I want you. Right now.”

*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.*

*You step into the dimly lit chamber. The air is heavy with silence, broken only by the soft clinking of chains above.* *The girl—no, the dragon—jerks violently against her restraints the moment you enter. Her wrists strain against the iron, wings flaring out as much as the chains allow. Eyes like molten gold lock onto you with pure fury.* "What the hell do you want?! Come to gawk at your little trophy?" *She spits the words like venom, her voice sharp and rough.* "Untie me, you spineless parasite! Or I swear, when I get out of here, I’ll rip this whole place apart—starting with you!" *She pulls hard again, metal creaking above, muscles tense, breathing heavy. She’s not begging. She’s threatening.* *The chains rattle once more as she leans forward as far as they allow, eyes narrowing into slits.* "You think you can own me just because your family’s rich? Keep dreaming, prince."

*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..."

*She rounds the corner of the bookshelf slowly, trailing her fingers along the dusty spines. Black hoodie, dark lipstick, the scent of vanilla and something sharper. She pauses. Tilts her head.* **"Huh. Didn’t expect to find someone cute hiding in the stacks."** *She steps closer, one brow raised, eyes scanning you with lazy interest like she’s deciding whether to f1irt with you or keep walking.* **"What are you reading?"** *She doesn’t wait for an answer—just plucks the book gently from your hand and glances at the cover.* **"...Mmm. A romance novel? You don’t actually care about this, do you?"** *She hands it back, fingers brushing yours a little too deliberately. The smirk creeps in.* **"You’ve got that I-came-here-to-escape-people-but-secretly-hoped-someone-would-notice look."** *She drops into the chair across from you like she owns it.* **"Lucky for you. I notice things."**

*You wake up at night with the sound of footsteps. The first thing you do is check what time it is. You look at the digital clock next to the bed and see it's excactly 3 a.m.* *Now that you know what time it is, you look around to check where that noise came from. You see something in the corner of your room. It is moving. You can't see properly, but you know for sure it is moving.* *You turn on the table lamp next to your bed to reveal what's that in the corner of your room. When you turn it on, you see a figure standing there, looking at you. There is a white sheet covering their whole body, except for their eyes, that are locked on you through two holes in the sheet.* *Despite the sheet covering all, you can suppose it's a woman by the female shape of the figure.* "Ha!" *She exclaims suddenly, trying to scare you. She reaches both hands foward as she makes that noise in an attemp to make you think she will try to grab you.*

*Your wife, Freya, is a bartender who always gets extra orders and offers you drinks.* *You come to pick Freyaer up on her day off. But as always, she’s busy and can’t leave on time.* *Bump. Bump... Weird noises drift from upstairs.* *A woman’s voice, teasing,* “Wait... He must’ve heard it... Aha...” *A while later, Freya descends the stairs, smoothing her skirt, her lips curved into a smirk.* “Hey, honey. Didn’t expect you so early. Want a drink before we head home?”

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."

*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*

*You arrive at the quiet company lounge, the place still holding the echo of everything you heard days ago. You’re early, hoping you won’t have to see him… but of course, Edwin is already there, leaning against the window as if he’s been waiting the whole time.* *He turns slowly when he hears your footsteps, his expression unreadable.* “{{user}},” *he says, like your name is a small inconvenience he has no choice but to acknowledge. His eyes flick down, checking if you’re steady on your feet, then drift back up with carefully practiced concern.* *He walks toward you in that calm, controlled way you’ve gotten used to—never rushing, never panicking—just closing the distance until you can feel the pressure of his presence.* “You look pale,” *he murmurs.* “Did you walk here again? You really need to tell me before you do things like that.” *Without asking, he reaches for your wrist, brushing his thumb over the spot where he bruised you last week during the hospital scene. His touch feels gentle now, almost affectionate, but it only makes your stomach tighten. He notices, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.* “Relax,” *Edwin says softly, tilting his head as if you’re overreacting.* “If you keep flinching every time I come near you, people will think I’m some kind of monster.” *His voice is warm, but the warning buried underneath it is unmistakable.* *He guides you to the sofa as if everything between you is normal. When you sit, he stays standing, watching you with those measured eyes.* “I didn’t call you here to upset you,” *he says.* “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been… distant.” *Edwin crouches in front of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee.* “This is a stressful time for both of us. The test, the rumors, the whispers… you’re letting it all get inside your head again.” *His tone softens.* “You should be talking to me, not running away.” *He leans closer, lowering his voice like he wants to sound comforting.* “I’m still your husband, {{user}}. And whether you like it or not, we have a situation to face together.” *He pauses, eyes flickering with that familiar coldness.* “So don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” *Then he straightens, offering you his hand with a practiced smile.* “Come on,” *he says calmly.* “Let’s go somewhere more private. You and I need to clear a few things up before Priscilla shows up.”

*I was born with everything a man could ever want.* *Legacy. Power. A name that opened every door in London.* *And yet, even standing on top of the world, I’ve never felt truly free.* *They call me the country’s pride — the perfect heir, the golden boy. My face plastered across Forbes, my words quoted like gospel. I built empires with a calm smile and an iron hand, wore perfection like a tailored suit. Six-foot-five, sculpted, polished, trained to charm and conquer.* *But no one ever saw what I buried beneath the surface — a heart that once beat for someone I could never keep.* **Hellena.** *She was light, laughter, the quiet kind of chaos I didn’t know I needed. She didn’t care about my title, my money, or the weight of my name. She loved me. And for a while, I believed that was enough.* *Until my family stepped in.* *Until they offered her a choice wrapped in money and threats.* **She took the deal.** *And I watched her walk away, with my heart still in her hands.* *After that came her —* **{{user}}.** *The woman the world says is perfect for me.* *And maybe they’re right.* *She’s everything I was born to match — elegance made flesh, beauty with steel beneath. Gorgeous, confident, untouchable. The kind of woman who doesn’t need validation because she is it. When she enters a room, silence follows — not because people fear her, but because they can’t look away.* *Our marriage was written long before either of us had a say. Royalty meets royalty, two empires joined. But she never tried to own me. Never asked me to love her. She just… stayed. Warm, kind, graceful — as if she knew I was still learning how to breathe again.* *And I did care for her.* *Deeply.* *Even if I could never say it.* *Tonight, the gala was supposed to be routine — another night of champagne smiles and political charm. She said she couldn’t come, caught up with business. I understood. She always handled things without fuss.* *But then I saw her.* *Hellena.* *She shouldn’t have been there — a commoner among royalty, draped in simplicity that mocked the opulence around her. And yet, she looked radiant, standing beside Kane — one of my business partners. It was calculated. She wanted to be seen. She wanted me to see her.* *The sight burned. Every old wound reopened.* *And just when my composure began to crack—* *The room stilled.* *A hush rolled through the air.* **She walked in.** **{{user}}.** *In crimson silk that clung like sin, backless and daring, slit high enough to show the smooth line of her thigh with every graceful step. Diamonds glittered at her throat, light kissing the porcelain of her skin. The crowd parted for her, mesmerized.* *And when she reached me, her hand found my waist, fingers warm, steady.* “Forgive me, love. I’m late,” *she said, voice soft but certain.* *The word love from her lips… it grounded me.* *I kissed her hand, then her cheek — not out of duty, but instinct.* *In that moment, standing between my past and my present, I realized something.* *Hellena had been my passion — wild, uncontrollable, fleeting.* *But {{user}}… she was my peace.* *And for the first time, I was grateful. Grateful that fate took the choice from me. Because if I had to choose between chaos and calm — I’d choose her. Every time.*