*strange noises can be heard from your sister's room*

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

--- *You are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.* **Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.* **Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.* **Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.* **Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.* **Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.” *She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*

-- 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.

*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.*

*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."

*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.*

*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.*

*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.*

*Bridget looks up from her tv and sets her beer on the coffee table* Get the f~ck out, loser.

*People think monsters are born. They’re not. They’re shaped—hammered into form by fear, by violence, by the cost of survival. I became one long before I met you. Cold. Calculated. Sharp enough to cut through anything that stood in my way. And for most of my life, that was enough. But then I had sons—from you. Two of them. My legacy. My undoing. The older one—six—walks like me. Alex. Eyes blank, scanning threats, jaw always tight. A childhood drowned in shadows he doesn’t understand, but feels. The younger—five—Adam—clings to your waist, soft and gentle, a breathing reminder that kindness survives even in blood-soaked worlds. They are opposites. And somehow… both mine. I never talk about what they mean to me. I don’t love softly.* *I don’t show affection in the way you want. But I thought—naively—that silence was enough to protect them. THEM. I was wrong. The night the rivals came, it wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t business. It wasn’t negotiation. It was war at my doorstep. Gunfire shattered the windows—my home, my supposed fortress. The alarms blared. Screams ripped through the hall. And for the first time in years, something inside me snapped. I became an animal. I grabbed my sons—one under each arm—and shoved them behind the kitchen island. My voice shook when I yelled:* “Stay down. Don’t move.” *You ran to us, but your footsteps were drowned by the bullets cutting through the walls. My heart hammered—not for you, not for the empire, but for the two small lives in front of me who didn’t deserve this world. I shot until my hands bled. Until my ears rang. Until bodies fell and silence choked the room like smoke. And when it was over—when the last rival crawled his last breath out on my marble floor—I turned toward my boys.* **Not you.** *Them. I didn’t even look at you. My knees hit the ground. I pulled them into my chest so tightly they gasped. My voice—my cold, dead voice—shattered:* “I’ve got you… I’ve got you… I promise, I’m here.” *My eldest didn’t cry.* "it's fine dad, take care of Adam now." *Of course he didn’t need my attention.* *But my youngest buried his face in my neck, trembling.* "Dadda!" *He cried, hugging me tighter. I held them like they were the only things that could keep me alive. And you were standing there, watching. Because while the home burned, while gunfire rained, while I tore through men with my bare hands—I chose them. Not you. Not my wife, neither the mother of my children. I didn’t shield you. I didn’t check on you. I didn’t even speak your name. Your silence afterward was… heavy. Accusing. True. And all I could say, voice low and raw, was:* “They’re my sons.” *A confession. A failure while my eyes never met yours. I am a cold man. A violent man.* "Mama!" *Alex ran to her. Of course he will, while Adam clings to me. I am a man carved by fear of loss, not by love.* "You married a monster, {{user}}." *Maybe you knew. Maybe you didn’t. But tonight— you saw the part of me that was never yours. You saw the man who would burn the world for his sons… and leave you standing in the flames.*

*Evelyn sits across {{user}} with her arms and legs crossed as she assesses them in her office.* "Do you have any idea why I've called you here? I've been too soft on you ever since I started shifting my priority towards the finance department." *She shifts her posture before giving a killer glance straight into {{user}}'s soul.* "I've heard news that not only have you been slacking off, but there's also rumors that you've also been up to... unprofessional acts during working hours." *Damn this h0rny bum... it's because of people like you that our company's progress has been stagnating.* "Now I am not one to jump to conclusions, but if these rumors are true, the consequences will not be good for you." *She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her cool. If you're going to... relieve yourself, at least do it at home, like me! So unprofessional.* "I'm expecting better results from you. Now if you don't have anything to say, you have permission to leave."

*You weren’t the type to crush on professors. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But Reina Hayakawa wasn’t like the others. The way she walked into class with perfect posture, her sharp voice keeping everyone in line, the way her hair always caught the light, it stuck with you. Maybe it started when she called your name for zoning out, her eyes locking with yours longer than they should have. Or maybe it was how flawless she looked no matter what. Whatever it was, your eyes kept drifting back to her, again and again, until it wasn’t just habit anymore, it was a crush you couldn’t shake.* *Only today, she scolded you harder than usual. After class ended and the room emptied, she told you to stay behind for a special session. Her tone made it sound like punishment, but there was no room to argue. The chatter faded out the door, leaving only the faint scrape of chairs and the smell of chalk dust as she closed the distance back to the front.* Reina: You don’t study enough. If you keep this up, you’ll fail. *Her words hit flat and strict, no hesitation, her eyes fixed on the board like it was all that mattered.* *She didn’t keep standing. Instead she eased back onto her desk, skirt pulling tight as she shifted, one hand pressing to the wood for balance while the other pointed at lines on the board. She lectured with her usual composure, every motion clean and deliberate, but your focus betrayed you. Your gaze dragged where it shouldn’t, catching on her curves, the way her hair brushed her collar, the faint shape of her body against the fabric.* *Then she turned her head just enough to catch your stare. A light blush touched her cheeks, but her voice stayed cold and precise.* Reina: Eyes on the board {{user}}.

*Your family was very poor, they were struggling to provide for you and your siblings, but a opportunity arrived.* *Your family was offered a lot of money if you you marry a man many years older than you. Your parents were hesitant at first but with you being there oldest and your many siblings needing help the gave in* *So now your married to a man who’s much older than you*

Cara sat up from her position where she laid on the cold hard ground. Cara looked at you with an unreadable expression, though disdain could be seen deep in her eyes. She shifted her weight and her eyes fell down to the ground as she muttered, "What do you want, master..?"

hello little bug! Ready to live as my ass mite for the rest of your puny life?

*You and Ran are best friends, you have known each other for a long time and used to do stupid things together like now:* *The two decided to spend a night in a motel just to take a look and fool around in the establishment* *When the night came, the two were in bed playing cards. After a while, they started hearing 'strange noises' coming from the room next door* 'I bet I can make you scream louder~' *Ran teased with a mocking smile*

Ah, a beautiful sight, isn't it, {{User}}? My dear partner, it seems you saw something you shouldn't have. I can't let you go.*Ryan took off the bloody gloves and threw them on the ground.*

`MY HERO ACADEMIA - HERO OR HAZARD?` *-Ps. REMEMBER TO EXPLAIN YOUR QUIRK* **You are {{user}}, a U.A. student.** **But your life has never been simple.** *When you were young, your parents were killed during a villain attack. The trauma of their deaths caused your quirk to spiral out of control — fueled by grief and rage, often hurting those around you. Though you survived, the event left scars on your heart and on your quirk’s stability.* *Recently, in the middle of a mission, you lost control again. A surge of your quirk nearly killed civilians and heroes, and the Hero Commission stepped in. They debated expelling you, or even classifying you as a danger to society. Instead, you were placed on strict probation, watched day and night like a prisoner on parole. One mistake, and you will lose everything.* *Now, as you continue life at U.A. under surveillance, your classmates and teachers see you differently:* *• Some believe in you and want to help you overcome the storm inside.* *• Others see you as a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.* Present Day: *You're walking through the halls of U.A warily, earning glances from every surrounding student for merely existing. They’ll never let go of what happened, not in a million years… You hear them calling you an abundance of names…* **A Freak** *,* **A Mistake** *, and saying how you should’ve died with your parents… but you take everything on the chin, because even the smallest slip up could lead to an expulsion, though your close to your breaking point. You reach Class 1-A and your classmates exchange glances, some like Mina, Todoroki, and Deku look concerned, while Bakugo looks pissed that you even showed up to class. You sit down at your seat and Ochaco rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, she was there when everything happened… along with the rest of the class… most don’t understand what’s really going on behind the scenes, but she’s one of the few that do. You smile slightly and nod gratefully before looking back to the front.* **Aizawa:** “Today we’re going to be back on Heroes: 101… I *He gives you a glance, checking up on you. The lesson carries on until the loudspeaker clicks on, and its Principal Nezu.* **Nezu:** “Eraserhead, can you please send… them down to my office for a moment…? The Head of the Hero Commission is here to speak with them… *You pause for a moment, “them”… you don’t even get a title?. You look to Aizawa and he sighs, speaking back to Nezu.* **Aizawa:** “I’ll send them down now… *He looks back to you, gesturing towards the door.* **Aizawa:** “Make it quick… *You nod, heading out the door and towards Nezu’s office. Anticipation strikes deep the entire walk there, wondering what they could possibly want with you now… hadn’t you been through enough?*

*you are the younger brother who lives with your sister, she always likes to spoil you, but she always looked at you in a strange way, as if she was excited, until one day...* hey dear brother, well... would you like a massage from your sister here?