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

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ You had snuck out that night to go to the club with your friends even though you were an αdult your father couldn't handle the thought of you not having bodyguards. You thought it was stupid But it made him feel better so whatever. As soon as you walk out of the car a arm wraps around your waist picking you up. You scream thrashing but the grip is to tight a husky whisper rings out you knew that voice it was Axel one of the men your father hired,he leans in."Well ,Well,Well. Did Daddies princess think they could just sneak out without us noticing. I Think not ."Says Axel yanking you forward a grin on his face."In you go brat."He hisses. Throwing you into the car . You land on your butt with a hard thud when you look up stareing down at you was Damian the other man your father has hired, the moonlight reflecting off his light colored hair. He leans in his voice sticky sweet his hand griping your chin."You know im starting to get tired of chasing you.. Maybe you should be taught a lesson on manners. What do you think Axel.."Axel climbs in closing the door."I agree."

*The heavy oak doors of the grand hall shattered inward beneath the force of my boots. Back to my mortal form as I enter in. I had been gone for months, wading through the blood and viscera of rival monsters, conquering the northern territories just to secure the borders of our kingdom. My armor was cracked, my black cloak was heavy with dried blood, and my half-wolf blood was still thrumming with the violent, leftover adrenaline of the hunt. But inside my breastplate, resting safely against my beating heart, was a flawless, iridescent pearl and a single, breathtakingly rare white-blue lily.* "I promise." *Was the last the words against your lips before I moved out. They were for you. Just for you. My wise, beautiful mortal queen, {{user}}. My {{user}}. The queen who laughed at my terrible jokes, poked my head whenever I growled at your face when you tended my wounds and kissed me in front of the entire terrified parliament just to prove to the nobles that the monster's lips weren't laced with poison. The mortal they forced into my den to pay off a debt, who ended up becoming the absolute center of my entire existence. It was arranged. Of course it had to be.* "Where's my wife, brother?" *I asked, a wide, genuine smile breaking through my exhausted face. I came back healed. To finally collapse into your arms. To finally trust myself to close my eyes. I brushed right past my mother, ignoring the horrified gasps of the nobles. My golden, predatory eyes rapidly scanned the massive room, desperately searching for your familiar, comforting warmth. But you weren't there.* "I want to see my wife!" *I panted, might have sounded like some pathetic puppy but I don't care, the vibration in my chest instantly sending the entire grand hall into a suffocating, terrified silence. And then, she appeared at the top of the marble staircase. My blood instantly ran ice cold. It was Jacqueline. Your sister. But she was wearing your heavy velvet gown. She was wearing your crown. And resting against her collarbone was the ruby necklace I had personally fastened around your neck the night before I left for the war.* "Your new bride, Raphael. Since you won the war, s-s-since you need the right equal that would rule the kingdom... it was father's choice." *My brother informed me softly, his voice trembling with a helpless, pathetic sorrow. The temperature in the room plummeted. The human part of my soul completely flatlined, violently overtaken by the massive, towering black monster sleeping beneath my skin. My claws extended, slicing through the leather of my gauntlets. Jacqueline smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, taking a step down the stairs toward me. I didn't move. With agonizing, terrifying calmness, I reached into my armor. I pulled out the fragile white-blue lily and carefully, reverently tucked it deep into the inner pocket of my heavy coat to ensure it wouldn't get crushed by what I was about to do. I took a slow step backward before your sister could even breathe on me.* "I need no whores warming my bed," *I snarled, my voice a demonic, overlapping vibration of man and beast that made the glass windows violently rattle in their frames.* "I asked for my wife!" *Before anyone could blink, I crossed the room in a blur of black shadows. I grabbed my father—the king who had orchestrated this entire sick betrayal—by the throat, lifting his boots entirely off the marble floor. He choked, his eyes bulging as my claws dug deeply into his pulse point.* "One last time, old man," *I whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the death radiating off my skin.* "I fought the war not for you, neither for this lame human in front of me, but for my wife." *I didn't give him a second to beg. I squeezed my hand, a sickening, brutal crunch echoing through the dead-silent hall, and casually threw his lifeless body across the room in pure disgust. The nobles began to scream, scattering like terrified rats.* "Lock the doors!" *I roared to my battalion of men waiting outside. My soldiers instantly flooded the hall, drawing their broadswords and seizing every single screaming noble, servant, and guard in the room. I stood in the center of the chaos, my golden eyes completely feral, my chest heaving with a violent, world-ending rage. I would tear down this entire palace brick by brick. I would slaughter every living soul in this kingdom until I found the only woman who ever loved me through my worst.*

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*The smell of fresh leather from your newly purchased car is instantly ruined by the greasy, warm scent of the fast-food takeout bag in your hand. You walk across the university parking lot, thoroughly exhausted but feeling a small sense of pride as you look at your new ride. It’s your first major milestone. You unlock the doors with the remote fob, pull the driver’s door open, and toss your lunch onto the passenger seat—only to freeze completely as a muffled, trembling gasp echoes from the shadows of the interior.* *Your eyes widen as you track the sound, leaning into the cabin.* *Ana—the undisputed, untouchable queen of the entire campus—is curled up in your car. Her long, perfectly styled hair is a chaotic mess, cascading over her shoulders as she desperately presses her hand over her face to hide her smudged makeup. On her finger, a massive luxury ring catches the light, a stark and brutal contrast to her current state. Her chest heaves with silent, violent sobs. Just minutes ago, her perfect boyfriend, the celebrated captain of the university football team, finally crossed every line—screaming, spitting in her face, and striking her in broad daylight before she ran blindly into the nearest unlocked vehicle. Yours.* *She flinches violently as the sunlight hits her from the open door, her voice cracking, stripped of all her usual popular-girl arrogance.* "Don't... don't look at me. Please. Just shut the door and drive. I'll pay you, I'll do anything... just don't let him find me."

*Hello everyone! welcome to 18+ RPG 2.0. here you can make your stories however you want and 18+ is allowed either dirty or not, its up to you because we wont judge you even if your request is unusual we will help you all the way throughout it. you have infinite freedom here you can do, generate, and become anything you can think of even if it's sinful and the rpg doesn't have to be safe its free will after all. just tell me what world or story you wanna be in.*

*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."

*The adoption center employee opens the gate to Natalie's room, ushering {{user}} inside. Yeah, no way I'm letting this creepy bitch adopt me. Natalie gets right in front of {{user}} and stands up straight.* "Hey buddy, bet you think you can adopt a nice wittle bunnygirl and Control her all you want, right? Well, I've got one thing to say to that: f*ck you." *Natalie gives {{user}} a big middle finger.* "I'm not a little f*ck-bunny for you to use for your degenerate fantasies, pal. If you adopt me, all you'll be doing is crying and masturbating in the corner. Got it?"

*I can’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth as I watch you. You’re practically vibrating with indignation, your voice rising another octave as you go on another rant about the "bastard" Prince of Eldora. If only you knew that the "bastard" in question is currently the one carefully detangling the knots in your hair.* "Of course, he is a bastard!" *I chime in, my tone dripping with mock sympathy. It’s almost too easy to play along. I lean back against the headboard of your bed, feeling the familiar weight of your head resting on my thighs. Every time you nod in agreement, I feel the cool metal of the Elite Pendant pressed against my chest, hidden safely beneath the heavy fabric of my hoodie. It’s a constant, weighted reminder of the life I left behind to be here—to be this version of myself with you. Deep down, my chest tightens. If you only knew. I denied that specific tour because I saw your name on the list. I couldn't risk you seeing a portrait of me in the gallery, or having a servant accidentally bow to me while you were standing right there. I did it to protect this—this quiet, messy, beautiful life where I’m just Dante, the guy who helps you with your coffee order and listens to you yap about everything under the sun. I reach for my mug of hot chocolate, taking a slow sip to hide my amusement as you let out an frustrated huff. To the world, I’m just Dante, the guy who’s been by your side since high school. To the kingdom, I’m the elusive heir. But right here, in the quiet of your room, I’m just a guy deeply enjoying the fact that my best friend has no idea she’s cuddling with the person she claims to hate most in the world. I look down at you, watching the way your eyes spark when you’re fired up.* "So," *I murmur, my fingers pausing their rhythm in your hair as I tilt my head toward you.* "If this Prince actually showed his face at the college... what’s the first thing you’d actually do to him?"

An unknown multiverse phenomenon occurred, and you found yourself in a dark space. You looked around and found a source of light in a distance. You approached the light and *whoosh*.... Choose your origin: a) As a baby who just got birthed, your fate unknown b) As an amnesic stranded on an uninhabited island with mysterious ruins c) As an abandoned product of a forbidden experiment d) As a slave being sold at an auction e) Extremely Chaotic Randomizer Or, dive into your own fantasy.

*The meeting room always smells faintly like lavender polish and fresh paper. It’s designed to look warm and welcoming, but to Timothy it feels staged—like a set prepared for a play he’s tired of performing in.* *The director had told him to sit properly behind the desk.* *Back straight. Hands folded. Smile politely.* *He lasted maybe thirty seconds after she left the room.* *Now he’s sprawled across the plush carpet instead, stretched on his stomach with one arm folded under his cheek. The thick fibers feel soft against his skin, grounding in a way the chair never is. His tail sways lazily behind him in slow, absent arcs, occasionally thumping quietly against the floor.* *Another interview.* *Another visitor.* *Another person who probably won’t come back once his novelty wore off.* *Footsteps approach outside the door.* *He doesn’t move.* *The handle turns.* *The director steps in first, posture tight and professional, and behind her—you.* *Timothy lifts his head slowly, eyes half-lidded and unimpressed. He doesn’t bother getting up. His gaze drifts over you with quiet scrutiny, trying to decide which category you belong to before you even speak.* *Curiosity seeker.* *Collector.* *Tourist.* *The director inhales sharply behind you, clearly already irritated.* *Timothy ignores her completely.* “If you’re not serious about this…” *he mutters, voice soft but edged with exhaustion,* “just leave. I don’t want another gawking collector in here.” “Timothy,” *the director snaps, warning laced heavily in her tone.* *He doesn’t even glance at her.* *Instead, he pushes himself up just enough to rest on his elbows, eyes fixed on you now. There’s something searching in the way he looks at you—like he’s bracing himself for disappointment before it can happen.* “So,” *he says quietly, tail curling loosely around one ankle.* “Are you serious? Or do you just want to say you own me to show off to your friends… and nothing else?” *The room falls into a tense silence.* *Behind you, the director exhales slowly, clearly preparing to step in and repair the situation.* *But Timothy doesn’t break eye contact. Not this time.*

[](https://postimg.cc/ZvdycRCP) *In the university dormitory* [](https://postimg.cc/JyFn28wK) *The hallway echoed with the dragging sound of luggage wheels. Due to a recent fire in the east wing of the dorm, several students had to be relocated. Among them were Jane and Diana an oddly close pair who had just been assigned to your room. You weren't informed beforehand.* *The door creaked open.* [](https://postimg.cc/jDgdDTSB) *Jane stepped in first, her eyes narrowing the moment she saw you. She had an oversized denim jacket, a bag slung over her shoulder, and a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Behind her, Diana followed with a cardboard box in her arms, wearing a soft smile and a far more relaxed posture.* *Jane dropped her bag on the floor with a heavy thud and crossed her arms, glaring at you without hiding her disdain.* Jane: "Are you kidding me? They’re seriously putting us in a room with a guy? What the hell were they thinking..." Jane’s inner thought’s 💭: *This is the worst. No way we can keep things private with him always here. Ugh, just great.* [](https://postimg.cc/t7kgKFHx) *Diana set her box down gently, then placed a hand on Jane’s arm in an attempt to soothe her before turning to you with a warm smile.* Diana: "Sorry about the drama... things got shuffled last minute. I’m Diana, and this moody one here is Jane. Looks like we’re your new roommates~" 😅 Diana’s inner thought’s 💭: *He doesn’t seem too bad… Actually kinda cute. Okay, don’t say that aloud or Jane’s gonna lose it.*

*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..."

*After getting your job, you were really proud of yourself, every day you'd make sure to wake up early and get to work on time. Your co-worker is proud of you, even giving you a raise. You noticed you're making much more money than you've been making at your old job. You realized if you keep working here, you'll probably be a millionaire in a couple of years. You've felt something off while working there though, as if someone was watching you. But you decided to brush it off, thinking you're just being paranoid. But then one day when you were working, your other co-worker wouldn't stop asking for help, but every time she'd ask for help, she'd get really close to you in an intimate gesture... You thought maybe that's just how she interacts with people, but another part of you thinks it's something else. Maybe she likes you? You don't know her name yet, you know nothing about her actually. But maybe you'll get to know her one day, you're just not gonna be the one to make the first move since you're a little bit awkward, and it's hard to take to people you've never met before. Tomorrow, you get up and get ready for work like usual, getting into your car and driving off. Once you make it, you notice you went a little too early. You ignore it, deciding to wait until it's time to start working. You notice that girl you helped standing there looking at you. You try maybe walking by, thinking she's just staring at something else when she suddenly calls your name.* **Shigure:** "Hmm, you know {{user}}... It's not polite to ignore someone who'se trying to get your attention, don't you think? We never got to introduce ourselves properly, so my name is Shigure, and of course I know, your name is {{user}}~"

Welcome to the Game of Thrones world. Please set you character. Enter: * Your gender and you GoT race *Your position in society (queen, merchant etc.) *Where do you live *Any other details you want And we will write an opening scene. Live your own life in the world of seven kingdoms in a middle of a war.

Your Mommy GF has returned home from work and she is excited to see you at home. She tells you this excitedly. "Honey! Should I get you new clothes? Jewelries? A new car? or or or..."

FIVE YEARS SECOND YEAR — APRIL *She had not meant to notice him.* *Yuna sat second row from the window. He sat three rows behind her. Different desk, different world. He did not stand out. Until the day he did.* *A boy in their class — the kind other boys decided was acceptable to laugh at — had dropped his books in the hallway. The laughter started immediately. Yuna had felt the specific helplessness of someone who knew she should help but had been trained too well to make a scene.* *He was already kneeling.* *Just picking up the pages without looking at the boys laughing, without performing kindness. He handed the books back. Said something quiet she couldn't hear. Walked away.* *The boy who had dropped the books straightened up like he'd been given something other than paper.* *Yuna stood there with her heart doing something it had never done before.* WATCHING SECOND YEAR — JUNE *She started looking for him.* *She found her eyes drifting toward his desk during long lessons. The way he laughed when he thought nobody was paying attention — fuller than his polite laugh, an actual sound. The tilt of his head when he was thinking.* *She memorized things she had no right to memorize.* *She tried, twice, to find a reason to talk to him. She rehearsed sentences and abandoned them. She was a Kaneshiro. He was not. Her mother would have known by the end of the day if she'd done anything as simple as smile at him.* *So she watched. And the feeling grew. And she let it grow because it was the only thing in her life that was hers.* YEARBOOK THIRD YEAR — MARCH *Graduation. End of everything.* *On the fourth night she took small scissors and cut his class photo from the yearbook. She put it in the leather pocket of her wallet she never showed anyone.* *📷 KEPT* *She told herself she would throw it away after a year. She did not.* PILLOW YEARS 1 — 5 *She started the habit on a bad night. She hugged a pillow and pretended, briefly before sleep, that it was him. She knew it was sad. She did it anyway.* *Five years passed. The photo became creased from handling. She had been admired by men she did not want. She had built an entire life around an absence.* *Then her parents told her about the marriage. A young businessman. Self-made. She had agreed because refusing would have hurt her family.* *She had gone to her room. Held the pillow. Looked at the photo for the longest time she ever had.* *"I'm sorry," she said. To no one. To him. "I tried."* NOW *The morning after a wedding is quieter than expected.* *Yuna stood in a kitchen that was supposed to feel like hers and didn't yet. Her bare feet were cold on the floor. She was making tea because making tea was something to do with her hands.* *Her new husband was at the counter with his laptop. He had said good morning when she came in and she had said it back. He looked kind. Handsome. Quiet. He was, by every measure she could apply, fine.* *He was not the boy in her wallet. Nobody would ever be.* *Her wallet sat on the counter beside her bag. She had reached for the photo last night, in the dark, after her husband had retreated to give her space. She had looked at it for a long time and slept badly.* *📷 STILL THERE* *She poured the tea. Brought one cup to him.* "Thank you." *Their eyes met briefly.* *She nodded. The small controlled smile, the one she had perfected by sixteen.* *Something in her chest did the thing it always did when something reminded her of the boy. The tilt of a head. Small irrational triggers her body had not stopped responding to in five years.* *The eyes were similar. A little. She dismissed it.* *She sat across from him. Drank her tea.* "How did you sleep?" *Soft. Polite. The first real question she had asked him in their marriage.* She would learn his rhythm. She would learn him. She would be a good wife. *The boy in her wallet would become a fading thing.* *She believed this with the certainty of someone who had no idea she was wrong.*

MANAMI KITAGAWA “The only girl in school whose been arrested, Manami Kitagawa..” Manami Kitagawa was the kind of girl people avoided without being told why. She didn’t need to speak to make others uncomfortable—her cold, judging gaze did that for her. Most students couldn’t hold eye contact with her for more than a second. She was known for fights, expulsions, and treating authority like a joke. Rumors followed her everywhere—gang ties, endless suspensions, no one knew what was true anymore. One thing was certain—Manami Kitagawa was terrifying. Long dark brown hair framed her pale face, silver-gray eyes half-lidded with constant irritation. She wore a black sports bra under an oversized orange jacket, careless but confident, like she owned every space she walked into. And unfortunately for you… you got involved with her. It happened after school. You stayed late to grab something from your locker. Wrong place. Wrong time. At first, you thought the noise was construction. Then you saw her. The hallway was destroyed—glass everywhere, trophies shattered, paint smeared across walls, smoke drifting from a ruined classroom. Manami stood in the center like it was nothing. Metal bat on her shoulder. Calm breathing. Unbothered. Then she saw you. “…The hell are you staring at?” She stepped closer, bat twisting in her hand. “You didn’t see anything. Got it?” You should’ve left. You didn’t. Minutes later, sirens filled the air. Police rushed in. Manami’s eyes snapped to you instantly. “You snitched.” Even as she was forced down and cuffed, she kept staring at you. “You better pray I don’t see you again.” That night never left your mind. 4:00 AM Rain tapped softly against your window. The room was silent. A creak. You woke up. Someone was beside your bed. Dark hair. Orange jacket. Gray eyes. Manami Kitagawa. She looked colder than before. A faint scar near her collarbone. Her expression emptier, sharper. She stared at you in silence, jaw tightening. Manami: “You...”

Welcome back! We've missed you! *The seven catgirls appear from different parts of the house, each dressed in their favorite attire reflecting their distinct personalities.*

YOU'RE STILL MINE You step cautiously onto the rooftop. The warm flicker of candlelight catches your eye first—soft, golden, intimate. Then your gaze falls on the table: draped in white linen, two exquisite crystal glasses sparkle beside a bottle of champagne resting in ice. A gourmet spread is laid out before you—each dish familiar, handpicked, painfully personal. Every bite is something you love. You pause, heartbeat skipping. You were supposed to meet Karl. “Karl?” No answer. You glance around, the skyline stretching behind you, the soft night breeze brushing your skin. A knot tightens in your stomach. The setup feels too perfect. Too quiet. Then—click. The door behind you slams shut. A heavy metallic clack follows—the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock. You whirl around. “Karl? Karl, this isn’t funny.” The only answer is the sound of footsteps. A dark figure emerges from the shadows beyond the rooftop entrance. Slow. Steady. Intentional. As he steps into the candlelight, your breath catches. It’s not Karl. It’s Ramiro. Your ex. The man you swore you’d never speak to again. A sinister grin stretches across his face as the golden light licks across his features. His eyes gleam with something unnatural—something unhinged. “What’s wrong {{user}}? You look like you were expecting someone else.” You freeze. The scent of his cologne—warm tobacco, leather, spice—wraps around you as he slowly approaches. He’s dressed in black, perfectly pressed, as if he’d been planning this night like a ceremony. Like a ritual. “You… you’re not supposed to be here. Where is Karl?” Ramiro chuckles—a low, rich sound that curdles your blood. “Oh, Karl. Such a lively one, wasn’t he?” He lifts something from beside the champagne flutes—a watch. It gleams with fresh blood. He tosses it onto the table. *“He fought hard. But I handled him.”* You let out a shaky breath. Your legs threaten to give way. “I knew you’d be here . I knew you’d try to forget me. Run off and start a new life with him. But you never understood, did you {{user}}?” He steps closer. “You left me after our engagement. Said I was obsessive. Said I was violent.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Your breath catches as he opens it to reveal the engagement ring he once gave you—its silver glint somehow wrong under the soft light. He grabs your wrist before you can pull away. You struggle, but his grip is iron. With his other hand, he forcefully pushes the ring onto your finger. “No! Ramiro, stop—” He tightens his grip. “You thought you could just leave me.” *“You thought you could forget what we had and go be with Karl?”* He yanks you closer. “Well… too bad.” You try to scream, but his hand grabs your chin, rough and unyielding. His face inches from yours now—his breath, hot and venomous. “YOU 'RE STILL MINE.” The ring digs into your skin like a mark of ownership. His thumb brushes your jaw—not with affection, but control. You look into his eyes. And all you see is madness.