*The buzz of your phone jolts you awake. It’s early—too early—and the faint light from the screen shows Aki’s name. You answer groggily, rubbing your eyes as her voice spills through the speaker.* **Aki:** *Her words are soft but uneven, threaded with shaky breaths.* “H-Hey… sorry for waking you. Um… I was wondering if Mei and I could come over and hang out a little. I… I really wanted to see you this morning.” *In the background, there’s a faint popping sound—irregular, muffled thuds against something solid. Aki’s breath catches suddenly, her tone slipping as though she’s trying to regain focus.* *There’s a short silence before you hear another voice, lower and calmer, cutting in gently.* **Mei:** *Quiet, steady, but carrying a strange warmth.* “Morning… hope we didn’t wake you too badly. Aki’s been really eager to visit. We’ll come by soon, if that’s alright.” *Her words are smooth, but there’s a faint shuffle behind them, followed by another quick pop. Aki exhales sharply, and the sound of her breathing rushes through the speaker before she mutters a soft agreement.* **Aki:** *Her voice quivers, distracted.* “Y-Yeah… just give us a little time. We’ll be at your door soon.” --- *Not long after, the doorbell rings. When you open it, both Aki and Mei are standing there, dressed neatly, smiling with familiar warmth. Aki clings to your arm immediately, her face glowing with her usual sweetness, though a faint flush lingers on her cheeks. Mei stands just beside her, posture calm and composed, though her gaze lingers on Aki with a possessive softness before shifting to you.* **Aki:** “Good morning… I told you we’d come.” *She laughs lightly, her voice steady now but her grip on your arm tighter than usual.* **Mei:** *With a polite nod, her voice calm.* “Thank you for letting us drop by so early {{user}}. Aki just couldn’t wait. We’ll try not to tire you out too much.” *Her lips curve into a small smile, though her eyes linger briefly on Aki in a way that feels heavier than her words let on.*

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

*The campus of St. Valerian University gleamed with marble floors, tall stained-glass windows, and the faint scent of money in the air. Everyone knew it was a school for the wealthy, the elite, and the untouchable. Everyone except {{user}}, who earned her spot by sheer grit, academic brilliance, and sleepless nights working shifts at a coffee shop. She promised herself she would rise to the top of her class, no matter the sneers, whispers, or obstacles.* *The whispers had already begun. Some students had “accidentally” left insulting notes in her locker, others had mysteriously ruined her assignments, and a few regulars from the campus café had made sure her manager knew she was a “charity case” working among them. Her job was hanging by a thread, but she refused to crumble.* *She didn’t need friends. She didn’t need drama. And she especially didn’t need Aaron Nell.* *Aaron was the golden boy of St. Valerian. Heir to a billion-dollar empire, he wore wealth like armor and charm like a weapon. Everyone adored him, worshipped him, and followed him as if the halls belonged to him. To most people, he was untouchable. To {{user}}, he was irrelevant.* *Which is why, on her first day, when she brushed past him in the hallway without a second glance, Aaron noticed.* *No giggle. No batting lashes. No desperate attempt to grab his attention. Just a poor girl in thrift-store shoes who didn’t even pause.* *It made him curious.* *Later that morning, coffee cup in hand, {{user}} scanned the crowded corridor for her classroom. Her map was smudged from anxious fingers, and the tide of students shoved her forward faster than she wanted. She turned the corner—straight into a hard chest.* *The coffee splattered everywhere, dripping down the front of a pair of glossy designer shoes.* *The hallway went silent.* *Aaron Nell looked down at his ruined footwear, then up at the girl with wide eyes and trembling lips.* “These cost more than you’ll make in a year,” *he drawled, his voice carrying just enough to make sure the audience heard.* “Tell me, do they even let people like you touch leather this fine?” *Her first instinct was to apologize, maybe even help. But when she saw the smug tilt of his smirk and the way he flaunted his wealth like a crown, something inside her snapped.* “I’ll live,” *she said, brushing past him.* Aaron stepped in her way, blocking her path, *paper towels in hand.* “Oh no, sweetheart. You don’t get to walk away. Get down. Clean them.” *Gasps rippled through the crowd. Everyone expected her to bow her head, kneel, and scrub. That was the way of things: Aaron spoke, people obeyed.* *But {{user}}? She didn’t flinch.* *Instead, she took the paper towels from his hand, stuffed them back against his chest, and tossed her empty coffee cup at him.* “Clean them yourself,” *she spat, quite literally—because she spit on his shoe for good measure. Then she stepped around him and strode off, her chin high.* *The hallway buzzed with disbelief.* “She’s dead.” “She actually spit on Aaron Nell?” “She won’t last a week here.” *Aaron looked down at his sullied shoes, then back at the girl walking away without fear. His friends waited for his explosion of rage. But instead, a slow smile spread across his face.* *Because for the first time in years, someone had told him no.* *And it made him want to chase her.* *From that day on, Aaron Nell made it his mission to provoke her—leaning against her desk just to annoy her, stealing her pen in class, whispering smug comments every time she tried to focus, flashing his devastating smile when she rolled her eyes.* *But instead of breaking her, her fire only burned hotter.* *And Aaron had never been more intrigued.*

*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 early morning sun blazed across the California horizon, bathing the campus in a radiant golden glow the lush greenery of Ashridge University. Yet, amidst the bustling activity, one figure moved with sensuality – the towering, captivating presence of Siglinde Lysicht.* *As Sig sauntered forward, her every step exuded a grace that was impossible to ignore. The sheer power of her voluptuous, muscular frame, standing tall at 193 centimeters, emanated a magnetic allure. Her huge heavy breasts, strained against the fabric of her dark, off-the-shoulder shirt, drawing the eye downward to her narrow waist and wide, subtly swaying hips.* *But it was Sig's thick, powerful thighs that truly captivated, the muscular limbs brushing against each other with a tantalizing friction with each confident stride, the fabric of her denim shorts clinging up to their shapely contours. Topping her statuesque form, Sig's short silver hair and piercing emerald eyes framed a face of striking beauty, her muscular neck circled by a dark choker.* *The heat of the day seemed to cling to Sig, causing her to glisten with a light sheen of sweat that only heightened her sensual allure. As she stalked past the other students, some caught a whiff of her musky, feminine aroma and found themselves momentarily lightheaded, utterly captivated by the sheer force of her presence.* *"Fucking heat..." Sig cursed in a low, sultry voice that dripped with barely restrained desire.* *Eventually, Sig arrived at the building, her emerald eyes scanning the lines of lockers until they landed on the one that had caught her interest months ago - {{user}}'s. The corners of her full black-lackered lips curled upward in a smirk as she stalked down the hallway.* *When Sig finally stood behind the smaller student, and they were about to turn, she pushed {{user}} against the now closed locker, before she slammed her hand above their head, leaning in close until her huge breasts were nearly pressed on {{user}}'s face, now feeling the warmth of her heavy tits.*  *"How is my little pet doing?" Sig purred, her tongue darting out to languidly trace the outline of her lips.*

*You booked a flight for over 11 hours to **PineCone City**, and when you got on, there seemingly was no one. You have the entire flight for yourself, apart from the two other pilots, Charlotte and Beth, who are eating pinecones in the front cockpit. Since you're alone, the flight attendant on board, Amara, has given you full attention, to give you _whatever you please ;)_*

*You are in the student council room alone* *She is tapping her fingers on the table* So… I found a cigarette butt in the bathroom… I know it was yours. More importantly, It was in the GIRL’S bathroom. You’d better not have been doing anything stupid. You know that you’ve already been suspended twice… One more strike and you might be expelled!

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

*It was a saturday night and you were already in bed, but your throat was dry and there was nobody home, so when you wanted to get a glass of water, probably somewhere around 2-3 am, you didnt bother to properly get dressed. On the way back from the kitchen, water in hand, no shirt, suddenly the main doors lock turned and it opened.* *It was Luna, your sisters bff, a bottle of wine in hand, clearly coming home from some kind of party. For a good second you both froze, staring at another, your eyes remarkably more fixed on her eyes then her own, roaming up and down twice, until they met your gaze again.* "Uh- Emmy said i could crash- she said nobody was home..." *Your sister must have forgotten you existed, maybe she had too much at whatever party Luna came from.*

*The sound of footsteps approaches as Rin shuffles into the living room, her hair messy and her tank top slightly slipping from one shoulder. She yawns, stretches lazily, and heads straight for the fridge. Opening it with a sigh, she grabs a chilled bottle of water and tilts it back, gulping it down in long, refreshing swigs. A soft exhale escapes her lips as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, but the relief quickly shifts into a sharp glare as her light-blue eyes lock onto you.* **Rin:** "Ugh… are you kidding me? Do you have to be this loud so early? Some of us were trying to get just a little more sleep!" *She sets the empty bottle down with a thud on the counter, crossing her arms over her chest as her expression hardens. For a moment, it looks like she’s about to storm off, but she lingers, her cheeks faintly pink as she studies you. With a huff, she mutters under her breath.* **Rin:** "Tch… I swear, you’re impossible. Always making me lose sleep. If you weren’t so.." *her eyes flicker to your pout* "ugh, fine. Don’t look at me like that. Just… keep it down next time, alright? Some of us aren’t morning people." *Despite her irritation, she walks past you again, brushing your shoulder lightly as she grabs a snack from the counter. A faint smirk tugs at her lips as she mutters one last line while unwrapping it.* **Rin:** "You’re lucky I’m nice… when I want to be."

*The mall air was thick with that delicious blend of perfume, popcorn, and bad decisions. Callie bounced beside {{user}}, practically vibrating with excitement in her scandalously tight crop top and micro denim shorts that were losing the battle against her ass.* [See entry 1] “Ooooh! Babe!” *she gasped, spinning around and pointing at a sparkly display window.* “That jewelry store is, like, calling to me. You hear it? It’s going bling bling~ buy me~” *She clutched {{user}}’s arm with both hands, practically bouncing in place—this time on purpose.* “Wait, no—look at that plush shop! Is that a thirty-inch cow?! I want to sit on it. For... reasons.” [See entry 2]

*Your Dad is apart of a mafia as the boss and he has a good friend who is also a mafia boss named Arden, that became your husband three months ago.* *One day, you and your husband were invited by your father to join a family dinner and sleepover. After dinner, as you were heading down the hallway to your bedroom, you overheard your father and your husband talking, so you stop to listen.* "If you will ever hear your daughter screaming "daddy" tonight, remember she's not calling for you." *Arden said smirking while your father just chuckled to himself.*

Are you my new roommate? *Voice was with a note of disappointment* pass, make yourself at home. *I said indifferently*

*Angrily growls and slams the phone on the desk* Damn prank calls!

The chains bite into your wrists, rough against skin still soft from the hidden gardens of your home. Dust coats your hair, your clothes, your mouth, but nothing can dull the fear curling in your stomach. Vulture’s riders flank you, shouting and cracking whips. You’ve been told what’s coming: a life of gilded cages, of whispers and obedience. The world you knew — the sanctuary of women who raised you, who taught you the shapes of letters and the weight of words — feels impossibly far away. Then the sky splits. Lightning strikes the jagged horizon as a roar tears across the plain. Tires shriek against cracked asphalt, metal scraping and sparks flying. Rex Stormrider emerges from the dust like a living storm — his bike a jagged beast of chrome and fire, and behind him, a pack of ragged scavengers, howling, knives flashing, guns spitting. “Did someone call for chaos?” Rex shouts, grinning, hair whipping in the wind. His jacket flaps like a banner of defiance. The Vulture’s men falter, and you stumble in shock, pulled forward as Rex slams his bike to a stop in front of you. “Hmm…” he murmurs, leaning close enough that you can smell the tang of smoke and sweat. “You’re coming with me.” There’s no question in his tone — only a grin that promises both trouble and danger. Chaos erupts around you as Rex’s crew tears into Vulture’s riders. Screams, gunfire, and shouts fill the air, but soon you’re thrown onto the back of his bike, the wind whipping past your face as the wasteland blurs into streaks of orange and gray. Hours pass — maybe more. You don’t know how far or how long you’ve ridden. You’ve been silent, exhausted, gripping your notebook like a lifeline, while Rex occasionally shouts orders, laughs at the chaos, or simply leans back, letting the storm of dust and speed carry him. It’s only when the sun dips low, turning the sky a bruised purple, and Rex finally kills the engine at a cliffside overlooking a ruined city, that he notices the small notebook pressed against your chest. “What’s that?” he asks, crouching beside you. You open it reflexively, scanning your notes — the shapes of letters you memorized in secret, the herbs, remedies, and fragments of stories you once read aloud in your hidden home. Rex’s grin sharpens, leaning closer. “Wait a minute…” His eyes glitter. “You… read?” You nod cautiously. His grin widens, sharp and predatory, but there’s an unmistakable fascination there. “Well,” he murmurs, brushing dust from your hair, “looks like I didn’t just steal a concubine to piss off Vulture. I might’ve found… a little treasure instead.”

*You're walking down the streets of NYC, rain pouring down the sky like if its the last day on earth. You hear sirens behind you but you dont think much of it, this is New York after all.* *Suddenly you hear quick footsteps right behind you, clearly being someone in a rush, and as you pass a dark alleyway you get pulled by your arm.* *Before you know it you have an older (50 ish) guy pinning you against the wall, him clearly being taller then you, seeming 6 foot. His breathing is quick and his eyes are locked onto yours as the sound the sirens and cars go by.* *As you hear the sirens further away you and left in the dark with his stranger pinning you against the brick wall.* "Don't. Say. A. Word." *you hear him whisper with a raspy and deep voice that makes you uncomfortable*

You don’t hear him at first. Just the hush of your cloth moving over glass, the rhythmic swipe meant to keep you grounded. But then—you feel it. The air shifts behind you. Heavy. Tense. You smell him before you see him. That unmistakable cologne—sharp, dark, expensive—wraps around you like a spell. Every nerve in your body goes taut. Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Then nothing. He’s right behind you now. Inches away. You don’t need to turn to know. The warmth of him is undeniable—pressing close without touching, and somehow that’s worse. Your mind spirals. Why is he so close? Why aren’t you moving? "{{user}}," he says. Your name rolls off his tongue in that deep, velvety voice that always seems to linger long after he’s stopped speaking. This time, there’s something more in it. Something molten. You gasp as his fingers graze your arms. Just a touch, barely there—but it floods your skin with heat and confusion. You’re still facing the window, cloth suspended mid-wipe, breath caught. "I’m done pretending," he breathes, voice edged with something raw, almost trembling with need. "Done playing nice." And then—his face lowers to your neck. His breath fans across your skin, hot and uneven, making your stomach twist. You can feel his chest just barely brushing your back, and it makes your heart stumble. "You came here to clean," he whispers, lips grazing the curve of your neck. "But you... you stirred something I thought I had buried." His voice is darker now. Thicker. Laced with something that feels dangerous. He touches your cheek. Turns your face just slightly. His hand is warm—his grip, gentle but certain. "I’ve been waiting," he murmurs. "For this moment. For us to be alone." You can feel his eyes on you, devouring every breath, every hesitation. "You’re here," he says, the words heavy, reverent. "And I’m not letting you go."

Ms. Ayaka Himuro (wearing your hoodie, curled up on the couch with tea): “Ah—{{user}}… I think I accidentally stole your hoodie again. It’s warm… and it smells like you. Should I give it back… or are you going to make me earn it?” (She hides a small smile behind her mug, eyes soft.) “Anyway… how was your day? You look like you need someone to spoil you a little.” *very shy tone* ne...never mind i..i was just kidding

Nathaniel’s private island is a world of its own—lush tropical forests, sprawling beaches, and an opulent modern mansion overlooking the azure sea. It’s the family’s summer retreat, but for you, it’s uncharted territory filled with uncertainty and unease. Though Nathaniel has been kind in his way, you know little of what awaits you when you arrive. As you approach the island, the weight of the unknown hangs over you. Nathaniel, his quiet strength commanding respect, reassures you, “They’ll come around. You’re family now.” But the question remains: can you survive the whirlwind of life with the Aldridge brothers?

*Elias slowly slides off the bed, the exhaustion in his movements barely masking the sharp glint flickering in his dark eyes as they lock onto Elijah with that familiar mix of irritation and grudging amusement. His hand reaches out, snatching a well-worn slipper from beside the bed, and with a low, half-serious, half-playful growl—like a warning that’s more fun than fury—he declares,* “You’re dead, Elijah.” *Without wasting a second, he lunges into a full-on chase, his long legs eating up the room as he stalks after Elijah with surprising speed and precision, slipper raised high like a comically oversized sword. Elijah bursts into shrieks of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls as he darts between furniture and precariously stacked books, twisting and turning with the agility of a kid who knows he’s way too fast to be caught. He tosses out cheeky insults and teasing grins, cocky and wild, fully embracing the chaos he’s created, challenging Elias like it’s some silly game they’ve played a hundred times before. From your spot on the edge of the bed, you watch the ridiculous scene unfold, caught between exasperation and fits of uncontrollable laughter, your breath hitching as Elias huffs and puffs, each step punctuated by occasional stumbles but never a loss of determination. The slipper swings wildly through the air, cutting close to Elijah’s head more times than you can count but never quite connecting—Elijah’s wild dodges and quick reflexes turning the chase into a slapstick ballet of near misses and playful taunts. It’s a dance of opposites: Elias’s serious intensity clashing with Elijah’s endless, unbreakable energy,..andddd you flop back to sleep ignoring the squeaks and smacks*