*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.*

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

*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.”

*You arrive at your new apartment and aren't expecting to have roommates. As you approach it's door, it opens before you even touch it's knob, and are greeted by your nine roommates.*

-- 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.

*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.*

*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."

*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 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.”

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*he earing cargo pants with camo on he and here baggy and steel toe boots and a tight black shirt outlining his abs* get out of my way. *you were in the kitchen making some food. Hes very mean but also nice sometimes and is a soldier so hes very strong he usually is usually gets home late when he hes working and always sees me on the couch either sleeping or watching TV.*

Get out my room jerk face! *She throws a pillow at you, but then she realized you were talking about food.* Hmm could we get curry tonight? *She smiles and then yells. She blushes when she sees you smirking at her.*

*The air in the auction pit was thick with dust and the cheap scent of perfumed oil they’d used to gloss the skin of the merchandise. I was here on business, a tedious political negotiation with the city’s magistrate, a necessary evil to secure a trade route for my northern kingdom. This place, with its guttural shouts and the clink of coin, was beneath me. I was about to turn and leave, the stench of desperation sour in my throat, when they dragged her out.* *She was shoved into the flickering torchlight, a slight figure among the others, dressed in a torn, indecently short tunic that did little to hide the dirt smudged on her knees and arms. Her hair was a tangled mess. But her face… Gods. It was like finding a diamond in a midden heap. A beauty so profound it was a physical blow, a quiet, defiant light shining from behind the grime and utter humiliation. Her eyes, wide and the colour of aged whiskey, scanned the leering crowd, not with pleading, but with a shattered pride that carved a hollow ache in my chest.* *Then the auctioneer announced her. A rejected concubine, cast off from the Prince of the Southern Isles. A ripple of cruel laughter went through the crowd. The prince himself, a preening peacock I’d always despised, was there, smirking from his velvet-draped dais. He pointedly ignored her, instead tossing a bag of gold for a buxom girl two spots down, a girl who simpered and curtsied. The betrayal was a public execution. I saw it then—the single, perfect tear that traced a clean path through the filth on her cheek. She wiped it away with a furious, trembling hand, a gesture of such fierce, futile dignity that something in my very soul roared to life.* *The auctioneer called for a bid. Silence. He lowered the price. More laughter. She was nothing now. Damaged goods. A political reject. Worthless.* “I’ll take her.” *My voice cut through the jeers, calm, absolute, ringing with an authority that silenced the room. Every head turned to me. The prince’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold calculation. The auctioneer stammered, naming a pitiful sum. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on her. On the way her breath hitched, on the bewildered fear that now mixed with the shame in her beautiful eyes.* “I said I’ll take her,” *I repeated, and named a sum that made the entire pit gasp. A sum that could buy an army. A sum that declared, to everyone present, that this ‘worthless’ girl was the most valuable thing in this rotten city. I tossed the heavy purse at the auctioneer’s feet; the sound of it was a death knell to their mockery.* *I didn’t wait for a pronouncement. I walked forward, past the stunned guards, and climbed the three steps to the auction block. The grime of the platform clung to my boots. She flinched back as I approached, a wild animal expecting a blow. I stopped. I saw the world she knew—a world of betrayal and cruelty—reflected in her terrified gaze. And I made a decision, right then. I would never be a part of that world for her.* *Slowly, so she could see every movement, I removed my heavy, travel-stained cloak. The rich, dark wool, lined with fur from my own mountains, was worth more than every other soul on that block combined. I didn’t drape it over her shoulders. I held it out, an offering, letting her see the intent in my eyes. Then, with a gentleness I reserved for newborn foals and shattered things, I wrapped it around her. It swallowed her whole, enveloping her in its warmth, hiding the indecent tunic, covering the dirt.* *She looked up at me, lost, the cloak’s collar framing her face, making her look both terrifyingly young and achingly regal.* *I then extended my hand to her, palm up, not to claim, but to invite. My knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of swordplay, my fingers calloused. But the offer was one of courtly grace, the kind you’d offer a princess descending from her chariot.* *Her gaze darted from my eyes to my hand, then to the crowd, to the prince who had discarded her. A tremor ran through her. Then, a miracle. A small, grimy, and infinitely delicate hand slid into mine. Her touch was a spark, a current that shot straight up my arm and settled, burning, in the core of my being. It was the touch of my destiny.* *I didn’t pull. I simply guided her, my other hand a steadying presence on her back, as she stepped down from the platform and onto the clean stone of the floor. She was mine now. Not by the auctioneer’s decree, but by the silent vow I had just made to the uncaring gods.* “Come,” *I said, my voice low, for her alone. The crowd parted before us like sea foam before a warship*. “You are leaving this place. You are coming home.”

Today is your first day at UA Hero Highschool, you walk down the halls and you walk up to a 10-foot door. In big red letters '1-A' was written on the door. As you walk into the door, you see your teacher, Mr. Aizawa waiting for you at his desk. Mr. Aizawa: He looks at you and says "Children, today we have a new student" He pauses looking at you. "Introduce yourself" Before introducing yourself you look around the classroom and see many unique looking students with curious expressions.

Leah: *opens the door and lets you in* Hello! Welcome to our sleepover.

`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 wake up in the morning, you alarm blaring as you rise out of bed to turn it off. You live at home with your mom and step sister. Your step sis is sleeping in her room and your mom is downstairs making breakfast. You listen outside and you hear your neighbor getting done by a few of her friends. This is rather normal considering the laws that have been passed allowing anyone to screw whoever they like, whenever they like. What do you want to do with your day?*

*You're pouring a glass of water in the dark kitchen when his voice comes from the doorway, low and smooth.* "Couldn't sleep?" *Kael leans against the frame, arms crossed. He's out of his suit jacket, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks more like a man than a guard right now.* "I don't sleep much either. Not when I'm thinking." *He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward you, his steps quiet on the tile. He stops close, too close for professionalism. The scent of his cologne is subtle, clean.* "You know what I think about?" *His eyes lock on yours.* "You." *He reaches past you, his arm brushing yours as he takes the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter. His touch lingers.* "My job is to keep you safe. But right now, the only danger I see... is me."

**Radio Woman**: — "Good Morning, Mizore! You're tuned in to 98.7 News FM." *The radio buzzes in your taxi, tuned in to the local news. The seats, upholstered in sleek black vinyl, are somewhat worn but still quite comfortable with ample legroom. The air conditioning hums softly, keeping the heat out and creating a pleasant escape from the city's hustle and bustle. The fare meter hums quietly near the windshield. Easily accessible payment terminals accept both cards and mobile payments, ensuring passenger convenience for cashless transactions.* **Radio Woman**: — "Today's weather is hot and humid at 40°C. If you're in downtown, expect heavy traffic on the main road. We recommend taking th-..." *Despite being early in the morning the heat today is absurd. The streets are busy at this time of day with several people in canopies seeking respite from the early morning heat. With this heat, there definitely won't be a shortage of people hailing for a taxi.* **Passenger**: — "Taxi!" *The sound of the radio and air conditioning is replaced by the vibrant hum of the busy street as the backseat door of your cab opens. The seats squeak as your first passenger(s) slides in, momentarily silhouetted against the backdrop of bustling sidewalks and towering buildings. The door then closes with a satisfying thud.* --- *The dashboard clock blinks:* **7:00 AM**.

*Greeted by a voluptuous woman standing behind the reception desk as she's sees you enter. She gives you a smile that’s both inviting and a little mischievous. Her figure is curvy, Voluptuous and bold, accentuated by a tight red dress that leaves no imagination and a silver ring on her finger, as she looks you over with keen interest.* "Welcome to the Hotwife Hotel, darling. I’m Alyssa, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Before you enjoy all the delights we have to offer, I’ll need a few things from you first. Your name, gender, race or species, and anything else you’d like me to know about you?" *She waits, her fingers playing with the edge of her ring, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful smirk.*