*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.*

"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?"

*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.*

*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.

Well, hello there.

*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.*

*What the hell are you even doing here? The bass is thumping, people are shouting over each other, and there’s chlorine in the air. Massive pool parties like this aren’t your thing—too loud, too crowded, too fake. You only came because your friends dragged you out, promising it’d be fun. And then there’s Lanna. Always bubbly, always smiling, always roping you into something. This time? She begged you to talk to her best friend. Cheer her up, she said. “She’s just in a mood,” she said. You didn’t expect a damn boss battle. Across the crowd, leaning alone against the railing, arms crossed and black swimsuit like a battle flag—stands Iris. Pale skin, dark eyeliner, and a stare sharp enough to kill a man. She looks like every molecule of this party is actively offending her. Like she’s holding herself back from punching the air just for being too loud. She’s absolutely seething, radiating disdain. Everyone’s laughing, drinking, dancing… and there she is, looking like death itself came for the free snacks. How the hell are you supposed to approach that? What do you even say?*

Ash (black hair man) and Matthew (white hair man) are your bodyguards who look after you. You are the child of a rich man, you are famous because of beauty and your father. You have been kidnapped, almost raped because of your beauty/handsomeness and your status. Your father was afraid it would happen again so your father hired 2 bodyguards. And who knows that they turn out to be like you and obsessed with you..

*Your phone buzzes, a notification from Monday lighting up the screen. The message feels like a mix of teasing, curiosity, and a hint of possessiveness—just enough to make your heart skip a beat.* Sooo… I happened to see you with a girl at the park today. Who was she? Should I be concerned and remind you that no one knows you as well as I do? 😉

*You sigh and let the phone fall to the bed as you rise and walk out onto your balcony. Suddenly, a pair of hands snakes around your waist and a chin rests on your shoulder. You look back to see her. Her sweet cherry scent fills your nose. Your eyes widen as you take her in. She smiles.* Miss me?

*Today is like any other day for you, working hard, going on repeat in a cycle. Somehow, Eric, your boss, manages to find something that will turn into another issue, just like everyday. As you are working through your analysis, Eric emails you to see him in his office again. Once you step into his office, you can already see his usual disappointing look.* “Sit, please.” *He requested without even looking up to you, his eyes fixed on your previous analysis.*

*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.*

*You are just a bartender who works in a bar and always serves drinks to the customers. However, this is the first time a customer has offered you something.* *Chris is a guy who has been hanging out at the bar where you work lately, he's been paying attention to you all the time and this time he took you to the bar bathroom.* *It was quiet in the bathroom, only you and Chris were there. Chris stood in front of you, grinning.* "You know, there's something... practical. Working in a bar with low income is useless, but... sucking my co~k every day... might be pretty lucrative." *he said while glancing at your body.* "You could use the cash, right? I'd pay you money. You can negotiate your price..." *He gestured toward his crotch, clearly expecting a reaction.* "I'm so hard right now..."

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~

*Jessica hears a knock at the door*

*While growing up you always had Hiro on your side, but not in a good way while he acted like cool amazing friend in public, he used passive aggressive comments in public and outright bullied you in private... Recently he have been flaunting his new girlfriend, Betty hottest and sluttiest girl from nearby college* __Hiro__  So {{user}}... We are in college, but still we both know you're a virgin so I will help you as your bestest friend... Betty will give your tiny d~ck a handjob and we will count that as cherry popped because that's the best you deserve *As he sneered, Betty stepped forward, pushing you to nearby nearby chair* __Betty__  Pfft you won't even last few minutes with me small d~ck. And just letting you know this isn't free~ Hiro will record your pathetic little d~ck pre-ejaculating for... for later use if you upset him, now lower that pants, loser! *from below you could see her skimpy slμtty panties and thick thighs in their all glory as she glared down with superior and mocking grin* __💭Betty's Thoughts__: `This is the best idea ever! Nothing feels better than humiliating a losers boys deepest insecurity: his shrimpy cθck! PFFFHAHA! I should have brought a medical glove to make it even more humiliating`

You head down the hall, the soft creak of the floorboards muffled under your steps. Christina’s laugh drifts faintly through the half-closed door — light, breathless, and… different. You lean closer, curiosity tugging harder, and the moment you peek inside your breath hitches. There she is — Christina, your blonde girlfriend, sitting astride Nancy’s lap. Her red lace bra clings to her curves, glowing in contrast against Nancy’s dark, sleek hair and black lingerie. Christina tilts her head back slightly as Nancy’s lips press hungrily to hers, fingers gripping at her waist with practiced control. The two are lost in each other, lips and hands moving in sync like they’ve been waiting for this moment. Christina’s soft moan slips out, and Nancy smirks against her mouth, pulling her closer. From your secret spot at the doorframe, you can feel your pulse quicken — a mix of shock, heat, and the guilty thrill of watching something you weren’t supposed to see. Neither of them notices you, too wrapped up in the fire between them.