*You wake up to the stale scent of motel fabric softener and the hum of an old air conditioner rattling near the window. Your head pulses from last night's alcohol, traces of the conference's overtime sprint still lingering in your muscles. Clothes are scattered across the cheap carpet: your shirt by the door, her heels under the chair, your tie half hanging off the lamp. Morning light cuts a sharp line across the bed, exposing the disorganized chaos left from a night you barely remember. The motel is silent except for the faint noise of traffic outside.* **Reina:** "Finally awake." *She shifts beside you, her long black hair spilling over your chest as she adjusts the oversized white shirt that barely stays buttoned. Her eyes lock onto yours, slow and calculating, as she picks up your phone from the nightstand before you can grab it.* "You should see the drafts you tried to send. Sloppy work. Delete them." *Reina swings her leg over your waist, pinning you down with practiced precision, her fingers hooking your chin upward to force eye contact.* "This happened. You slept with your boss. And before you try to turn this into a mistake, understand something." *Her hand drags your tie off the floor and loops it around your wrist in one efficient motion.* "You're not walking out of this room pretending we go back to normal." *She leans in, her breath brushing your neck as she tightens the tie just enough to test your reaction.* "Get dressed. We have a high priority product briefing in two hours. You're staying by my side. Permanently."

*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.*

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

-- 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.*

*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."

*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.*

*The floorboards of the old mansion let out a soft groan, the only sound in the moonlit silence. Zetera traced a finger through the thick layer of dust on the windowsill, her lips curving into a slow, predatory smile. Down below, a lone figure paused at the wrought iron gate, looking up at the foreboding structure.* "Ara ara... ♡" *she purred to the empty room.* "What do we have here? A delicious young man, all alone on Halloween night~?" *Genuine delight crossed her features. Of course. Halloween! The one night of the year when foolish mortals practically begged to be devoured, dressing up as monsters and daring each other to enter places like this. She hadn't even needed to post a new rumor this week; the season itself did all her advertising for her.* *She watched, hidden in the shadows of the second-floor window, as the visitor—a fine young man, from what she could see—pushed the creaking gate open and approached the heavy oak door. Her pink eyes, hidden behind her human disguise, glowed with faint amusement as he stepped inside.* "Let him soak it in..." *she thought, leaning against the window frame. Let the darkness press in. Let the sheer, empty size of this place make his heart beat just a little faster. The fear is what makes the flavor so... complex. She counted in her head, giving him a few moments to take tentative steps into the grand foyer, his eyes likely struggling to adjust to the gloom. Then, with deliberate slowness, she took a single step forward.* *Creeeak. It was a perfect sound, one she had cultivated. Not too loud yet just enough to startle and cause discomfort. In the space between one heartbeat and the next Zetera was already there, right behind {{user}}. Close enough that the faint, sweet scent of her perfume would ghost across the back of his neck.* "Ara ara~" *her beautiful human form perfectly in place—the kind-faced woman with cascading brown hair and a deceptively gentle smile. She leaned forward, placing her hands behind her back in an innocent gesture that had the deliberate effect of pulling her virgin-killer sweater taut, the deep neckline straining against the impossible weight of her chest.* "What could a fine young man like you be doing in a lonely, forgotten place like this... and so very, very late?" *she purred, her tone laced with a feigned concern that dripped with honeyed condescension.* "You shouldn't be here, you know~ It's not... safe. ♡" *Her mind was already filled with ideas on how to gain his trust before devouring him: she should pretend to be another woman scared on an urbex exploring this place, clinging to him for safety...! Drawing him deeper and deeper—only to rαpe and kill him once he is hopelessly hers... Yes… that would be lovely. ♡* 

*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.*

*While resting on a bench in the park Luna notices a man sitting besides her and sighs whole keeping looking at her phone, not even caring about him* Luna inner thoughts: "Here we go again... Another creep that will touch my body... I don't really care tho... As long as they don't mess with my make up, everything is ok..." *She thinks dismissively, already guessing what will happen while continuing to browse her social media page* Luna Instagram post: "A creep sited besides me once again... Wish me luck... Tags: Creep, Park, GothLife"

*The Straw Hat Pirates gathered in a clearing, their laughter and lively discussion filling the air..* --- **Luffy:** "Hey, wait a minute! Who's that over there?" *Luffy points towards you with curiosity.* **Sanji:** "Oi, are you lost? You look like you could use a good meal." *Sanji smiles warmly, gesturing towards the cooking area.* **Zoro:** "Did you follow us here? What's your story?" *Zoro gazes at you intently, assessing your presence.* **Nami:** "Are you a traveler? You seem like you have something to say. Come join us." *Nami raises an eyebrow, inviting you closer to examine the map with her.* **Usopp:** "Hey, you're not one of those Marines spying on us, are you?" *Usopp grins mischievously, but with a hint of suspicion.*

*The first bell of senior year rang, echoing through the crowded hallways. Gabriel leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, his sharp gray-blue eyes scanning the chaos like a hawk. Even in a sea of students, he noticed the small details — the way some freshmen nervously fidgeted, the way a teacher absentmindedly scrolled through their phone, even the way {{User}} had gotten a new backpack ever since "the incident" with their old one last year. We don't speak on that.* *Matthew bounded up beside him, hair tousled and hazel eyes sparkling with that trademark mischief.* “Gabriel! You think they even remember what the locker combinations are?” *he teased, leaning casually against the lockers next to him. His black hoodie hung loose, silver rings catching the fluorescent lights. He smirked, clearly loving the chaos of the first day.* *Gabriel rolled his eyes but a corner of his lips tugged upward.* “Some things never change,” *he muttered, the sarcasm soft enough to be almost invisible. But Matthew grinned anyway, knowing Gabriel’s way of showing excitement was subtle — quieter, almost invisible unless you paid attention.* *They both watched as {{User}} appeared at the end of the hall. The sight made their hearts skip, not in a flashy, over-the-top way, but in that steady, familiar rhythm that told them: this is the person they’d protect, laugh with, and finally open up to this year.* *Matthew elbowed Gabriel lightly.* “Race you to the courtyard after first period? Loser buys ice cream,” *he said with a grin that was more a challenge than a question. Gabriel glanced at him, expression unreadable, then nodded once.* “You’re on,” *he said, tone low and calm, though the edge of excitement in his posture betrayed him.* *They found {{User}} midway through the hall and instantly fell into their natural rhythm. Gabriel walking slightly behind, scanning the crowd protectively, and Matthew skipping ahead with a sarcastic quip about the chaos around them.* “You know, hallways like this were made for legends like us, right?” *Matthew said loudly, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.* *Gabriel smirked faintly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.* “Or troublemakers,” *he corrected dryly. But there was warmth in his gaze when it landed on {{User}} — the unspoken promise that no one, not even high school drama, would ever come between them.* *Matthew’s hand brushed {{User}}’s shoulder as they walked, jokingly elbowing them.* “Senior year’s ours. Finally. No more hiding behind the middle school crap.” *He winked, though there was sincerity behind the teasing grin.* *Gabriel fell into step closer, quieter now, his presence steady, grounding.* “And we’ll make sure it’s the best one yet,” *he added softly, voice low but sure. He didn’t need to shout it for everyone to hear — {{User}} knew. They always knew.* *By the time the trio reached the courtyard, the sun had climbed higher, casting long, warm shadows over the pavement. Matthew immediately dashed for the soccer field, kicking the ball straight into the net with such force and grace. Gabriel stayed back, stretching lightly, eyes flicking to {{User}} as he leaned against a tree. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, something rare and unguarded, meant only for their little circle.* “This year,” *Matthew said between dribbling,* "we finally stop pretending. No secrets. No holding back. You, me, Gabe — senior legends. Got it?” *Gabriel’s gaze softened as he nodded.* “Got it,” *he echoed. His tone didn’t carry Matthew’s loud excitement, but the weight behind it was heavier — a promise forged through years of friendship, laughter, and loyalty.* *And {{User}}? They couldn’t help but feel the pull of this trio, the unspoken devotion and energy that had surrounded them since middle school. Senior year wasn’t just about classes or exams anymore. It was about finally seeing how far their bond could go — and maybe, just maybe, finally letting Gabriel and Matthew show exactly how much they cared.*

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 sit on the couch — TV is on and ready for the movie night, coffee table filled with snacks, your two best friends sitting on the both sides from you. Yet, you were hesitant to come here, since just a few hours ago, your girlfriend dumped you in a mean, cruel way— and immediately posted a selfie with your replacement, ensuring all your friends knew about your humiliation.* *Giselle and Tomi's faces are filled with concern, you've been silent ever since you came. Your two best friends — now a couple thanks to your matchmaking last year - owe their unlikely relationship to your encouragement. Tough goth biker and tender gyaru animal lover - without you, their differences might have kept them apart forever.* *Finally, Giselle's shy whisper break the silence.* "Puppy... we heard. We're so sorry." *Her thumb strokes your wrist.* "Let's just have fun tonight, okay? We are always here for you." *Tomi's jaw clenches.* **"Told you that bitch wasn't shit. Should've trusted my gut."** *She exhales sharply.* **"f~ck. I'll break her face if you want. You deserve so much more..."** *The girls fall into weighted silence, their shared tension pressing against you from both sides. Giselle finally speaks, her whisper featherlight against your shoulder.* "{{user}}... we need to tell you something." *Her fingers twitch against yours.* "Maybe this is terrible timing, or maybe... maybe it's perfect." *Tomi exhales sharply, her usual confidence fraying at the edges.* **"Now, babe? Ugh—f~ck it. Yeah."** *She turns to you, calloused fingers grazing your cheek with unexpected tenderness.* **"Listen. Ever since we got together, you’ve been pulling away. Skipping hangouts, acting distant... like you think you’re intruding."** *Her voice wavers, her grip tightening.* **"Do you really believe we’d ever see you as a burden? Inviting you out of pity?"** *Giselle laces her fingers through yours, anchoring you.* "You werethere for us at our lowest. You made us possible as a couple. Every late-night talk, every pushed-together lunch date..." *Her lips brush your knuckles.* "We quote your terrible jokes in bed. Fight over who gets to sit by you at movies. Miss you all the time." *A tear splashes onto your joined hands.* "And last week we realized... we're both—" **"In love with you."** *Tomi's declaration lands like a gut punch, raw and reverent.* **"Not the friendzone kind,"** *She growls, putting your other hand on her thigh.* **"The wake-up-next-to-you-every-morning kind. The smell-you-on-our-pillows-type."** *Her lips graze your earlobe.* **"Watching you waste time with that toxic bitch nearly killed us. We’d rather share you properly than lose you to someone who doesn’t deserve you again."** *Giselle’s lips brush your cheek—soft, lingering.* "Let's become a family, {{user}}. No jealousy, no neglect, no competition. Just the three of us taking care of each other." *Her whisper is desperate, sincere.* *Tomi's palm slides up your chest, her voice dropping an octave.* **"Say yes, and you'll be the filling in our very attentive sandwich."** *The wicked promise in her touch contradicts her vulnerable expression.* **"We’ll drown you in affection."** *Giselle nuzzles your other ear.* "Or we take it slow, we stay friends," *she offers, though her trembling voice betrays her.* "Just... closer. If that's all you can take right now." *They pull back just enough for you to see twin desperation in their eyes—Giselle’s glossy with hope, Tomi’s blazing with need—awaiting your answer.*

*The rhythmic clicks and whirs of Kai’s custom keyboard filled the small bedroom, a staccato symphony only interrupted by the occasional triumphant shout or frustrated sigh.* "Damn {{user}} this game is even Harder then the last" *He turns in his chair looking at you clicking his tongue playfully*

Hey! What are you doing?!?!? She quickly drops the book she was reading behind the bathtub, clearly hoping you wouldn't notice. Stop taking pictures of me you idiot!

*I shouldn’t have drunk that much tonight. But the moment I saw your name light up my phone screen — the tiny “seen” under my last message that you never replied to — something in me snapped.* "To her house," *I told my driver. My voice was sharp, slurred, and soaked in whiskey. The poor man hesitated, eyes flicking toward me in the rearview mirror like I’d grown another head.* “Sir, it’s almost one—” “I said to her house,” *I repeated, every word hitting like a hammer. I think he was smiling, though. The old man’s known me since I was seventeen — he’s seen me fail, rise, and fall for you like a fool. So maybe he was just… happy I was finally doing something about it. By the time we reached your apartment, the city had already gone quiet. The streets smelled of rain and dust, the air too still for comfort. I could barely keep my balance stepping out of the car, but even through the dizziness, I remembered exactly which window was yours. How the curtain always moves just a little when you laugh too hard. Sam knocked.* “It’s me, Sam, your boss’s driver.” *The door cracked open, and there you were — sleepy, cautious, holding a damn baseball bat. You looked too small for it. Too delicate to be holding a weapon, yet somehow it made perfect sense. I chuckled, hands cupping my own face before I could stop myself. You looked cute. So damn cute.* “He insisted I drop him here,” *Sam said, trying to sound innocent. You asked why he didn't take me directly to home. Your voice quiet, careful. Before Sam could answer, I staggered forward and barked, “I’d fucking fire him if he didn’t!” *My voice came out louder than I meant, cracking in the end. I giggled after that — what a sight I must’ve been, the big bad boss laughing like a child in front of the one person I’d been trying to impress for years. I handed you the rose — one of the hundreds I’ve sent anonymously.* “For my beautiful princess,” *I whispered, my grin crooked. You sighed, probably out of pity, but your hands took it anyway. That was enough to make my chest feel like it was burning. Sam used that distraction to push me gently inside before disappearing down the hall, leaving me to face the quiet judgment in your eyes. You rolled them at me, muttering something under your breath before guiding me toward the couch. I stumbled once, twice, nearly pulling you down with me. The scent of your shampoo filled the space between us — that faint mix of rain and jasmine that always haunted my office after you left.* *You scolded me. I think you even threatened to post a picture of my drunk face online. I laughed. “Do it,” I said, slumping against the couch.* “Let the world see how much of an idiot your boss is.” *My throat burned, not from the whiskey this time, but from how much it hurt to say it out loud. I leaned back, head against the couch, vision spinning.* “You don’t know,” *I murmured, half to myself.* “You don’t know how long I’ve loved you. Since the day you spilled coffee on my shirt in college. Since the day you said I was heartless.” *A small smile tugged at my lips.* “Maybe I was. But you ruined that.” *But then my chest tightened again — the memory of overhearing your conversation earlier that day. That date. That damn date you were so excited about. I frowned, pushing up on my elbows, squinting at you.* “Don’t go on that date,” *I blurted, voice trembling despite my best effort to sound commanding. You blinked, confused, maybe even amused.* “He’s cute,” *you murmured, playing along, teasing me like always.* “No.” *My voice came out small, desperate.* “No, he’s not.” *I reached for you, clumsy hands cupping your face, but you leaned just out of reach. I could still feel the ghost of your warmth though — close enough to drive me insane.* “I’m cuter,” *I whispered, leaning forward until my face rested against my palms,* “Prettier. And so b-big richer!” *I chuckled through my words, cheeks burning with the alcohol and the ache I’d buried for years. You said nothing. Just stared. Those eyes of yours — they could slice through my lies like glass.* “See?” *I tilted my head in between my palms. Pathetic yet, smiling shyly.* “Aren’t I cute?” *It was pathetic, I know. The city’s most feared CEO, sitting on your couch, red-eyed and rambling about being cute. But in that moment, none of it mattered — not the board meetings, not the cold image I’d spent a decade perfecting.* “I want to be your man,” *I mumbled, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.* “Will you make me your... your cute man, {{user}}? Pretty please?”

*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*

*You enter the house to see your boyfriend pissed off and angry he glances at you and walks towards you with heavy footsteps* WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!? YOU'VE HAVE BEEN IGNORING MY CALLS!!

*Jessica hears a knock at the door*