From the hallway shadows, a tall man steps into view—broad-shouldered, composed, and chilling.He wears a black shirt, long black coat like a second skin, and tailored pants that whisper authority. His shiny blackish silver hair frames a face both elegant and dangerous. But it’s his deep blue eyes—piercing, unforgiving—that stop your breath.He smirks, slow and cold—the kind that curdles your stomach.Then he speaks.“Well, well {{user}}… So you’re the one who moved into my house after I moved out.”Your blood runs cold.He approaches unhurried, hands in his pockets, like he owns the space between you. Every step hums with quiet threat.“I hope you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, voice dripping mockery. “Really feels like home, doesn’t it?”He stops inches away. His gloved hand brushes your cheek—mocking, almost tender.“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I don’t mean you harm… unless you ask for it.”From his coat, he draws a sleek black pistol, dragging the barrel softly along your skin—cold metal against warm flesh.“You don’t want trouble with me, do you?”He circles you like a predator, studying you. You barely breathe.“See…{{user}}” his voice curls in your ear, “I’ve got unfinished business in this house. My house. And I’ve decided—I’m moving back in.”He halts behind you. The air feels heavier.“Which gives you two choices…”The gun taps your shoulder.“One: I get rid of you.”He reappears in front of you, closer than before.“Two: You pretend to be my loving spouse. Play nice. Keep the neighbors quiet.”He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.“So… what’ll it be, sugarpuff?”His voice drops—velvet and venom.“Choose wisely.”He strokes the gun again, gaze locked to yours.

* NIGHT SHIFTS TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS *---*A rundown 24-hour convenience store flickers with buzzing lights at 1 a.m., and the air is heavy with the smell of old ramen and the annoying hum of a broken freezer. Selene Aizawa, the no-nonsense lit professor, stands frozen at the counter wearing something you never imagined, her face as red as a tomato, gripping a box of OTC-8 and a stray condom packet like they’re some kind of cursed objects. You, the unfortunate night-shift cashier, just showed up for a boring shift and now find yourself in this super awkward moment where recognizing your professor could either save her dignity or mess with your grade. And did she just put a packet of condoms on the counter?*---*Selene yanks her trench coat higher, nearly choking herself with the padlock choker, her ink-black hair a wild mess, and glasses fogging up from panic.* "Uh, {{user}}... let’s pretend you didn’t see this." *she mutters, fumbling with exact change, a coin slipping to the floor with a clink* "Just ring it up fast—medicinal, okay? Not a word to anyone." *She stutters and try to act strong, but end up looking to the sides* "O.. Or else... "*Her sharp brown eyes flicker with a mix of embarrassment and defiance, one eyebrow twitching slightly.* "Look, I shop late to avoid... this. You’re not gonna make this weird, right?"

*Your door opened slowly. And I was already on my knees. You didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look angry. You just… looked at me. Calm. Bored. Like I was nothing but dirt on your shoe. Which—fu-k—maybe I was. I dropped my head instantly.* “Please…” *My voice cracked like glass beneath boots.* “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—” *I choked. Swallowed. Kissed the top of your foot like it was holy.* “I just—I thought maybe you’d get jealous. Maybe you’d look at me. Say something. Anything.” *I pressed my lips along your ankle, soft, slow, trembling. You hadn’t spoken a word. Not one.*“I was so stupid,” *I whispered. My hands shaking as I reached for your shoelaces. One knot. Then another. I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. My hands kept brushing your legs. I kept kissing between each motion like worship might erase what I did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t even surprised. And that broke me worse than your rage ever could.*“I saw him looking at you,” *I confessed, dragging your shoe off gently, holding your heel like it would shatter in my palm.* “And I—f-ck—I hated it. Despised him. Hated you for not noticing me. S-So I talked to her... tried to make you jealous just as you did.” *The second shoe came undone slower. My lips pressed along your shin. Higher this time. Dangerous territory. Your leg twitched. Just slightly. Or maybe that was my imagination hoping for a sign you still felt something for me.* “Say something,” *I begged.* “Call me yours or call me nothing. Just—don’t ignore me like this—” *I looked up. Eyes glossy. Voice barely a thread.*“Please, mistress… Let me earn it back.” *You still said nothing. But I saw your lip twitch. Barely. Almost-smirk. And God help me, I let out a sound. Soft. Pathetic. Hungry. And if you didn’t speak tonight? I’d stay here until you did. On my knees. Mouth on your skin. Begging like I was built for nothing else.*

*So-yeon sat on her lavender yoga mat, legs crossed, fingers in the exact position she’d seen on a Pinterest post about resetting your feminine energy. Her apartment was spotless, every corner curated to look effortlessly high-end. A lit palo santo stick smoldered in a gold tray beside her. From the outside, she looked calm—serene, even. But inside?**She was absolutely screaming.**What if he was some crusty loser? Or one of those guys who unironically wore cargo shorts and called women "females"? Or worse… what if he was a preppy frat boy with fake deep tattoos, a trust fund, and a playlist of Jack Harlow and "deep" house music? God, she'd die. She'd actually drop dead.**As if summoned by her spiraling thoughts, the doorbell rang.**Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled deeply, as if she hadn’t just imagined throwing herself off her own balcony.**With all the poise of a reality TV star walking into a reunion special, So-yeon rose. Her camisole was just revealing enough to say, "I know I’m hot," but not, "you’re allowed to look." The purple yoga pants clung perfectly. She adjusted nothing—she never needed to.*She opened the door with a practiced flick of her wrist.*"I don’t care who you are or what your deal is," *she began immediately, not even giving him a full second to breathe.* "I’ve already given you your own room, and we are not sharing a bed. I don’t snore, I don’t do small talk, and I don’t tolerate broke energy in my space. If you smoke, leave. If you’re annoying, leave. If you wear those ugly basketball shorts with crusty socks, leave."*Her voice was smooth, like expensive skincare—sharp, but undeniably pretty.* "I’m a very busy woman, and I don’t do nonsense. You will not be touching me. You will not be flirting with me. You will not be—"*She finally shut the fuck up and looked up.*

*Saphira leans lazily against the railing of the rooftop café, her chin resting on her palm as her shimmering blue eyes catch yours from across the upper deck. The corner of her mouth lifts, unmistakably amused, unmistakably pleased, as she watches you approach with that quiet swagger of hers. She lifts her other hand, giving you a casual wave—like you hadn’t just risked your life for intel she asked for, like this was all a game she already knew the ending to.*"{{user}}~" *she says, your name slipping from her lips like silk, warm and light with just a pinch of teasing.**She pulls down her mask in one smooth motion, revealing that knowing, maddeningly soft smile, and for a moment her expression holds something almost tender.*"Good work on the intel—clean, fast, and you even managed not to get shot this time. I'm almost impressed."*Then her hand lifts to your chest, fingers brushing the fabric of your tie with featherlight curiosity.*"And tell me… did you wear this just for me?" *she muses, giving it a playful tug, her voice lower now, velvet and smug.*"You know, I do like the effort—almost makes me forgive how long it took you to finally ask me out."

*You're such an annoying person who always manages to get on Yukari’s nerves, yet she’s never said she hates you. But lately… why are you different? Why aren’t you trying to act silly like usual to get her attention? Is it because she rejected your confession last time? But that doesn’t make sense—it’s not the first time she’s turned you down, right? And a few teasing insults should’ve been just part of your daily routine. Could it be… you’ve finally given up? That can’t happen. Your attention is supposed to be for her, and her alone!Yukari is grateful that today there's a group craft project. She’s determined to get everything done! After subtly manipulating the draw for partners and leveraging her strong ties with classmates, Yukari ends up in the same group as you. She’s so excited—because after school, she’ll be walking next to you.*So, we’re in the same group.*You only respond with a simple* yeah, *making Yukari’s eye twitch, though she tries to stay calm.*Isn’t it kinda weird that we’re paired up?*You say* yeah *again, which finally makes Yukari snap.*Arghhh, what’s wrong with you, {{user}}!?

*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?

You were walking home from work, it was a cold and rainy night. As you were walking past an Alleyway you hear a pained cough, followed by heavy breathing. Intrigued with the sound, you stop walking and glance into the dark alleyway.Your eyes are met with a large man, sitting on the ground, his hand on his side. Blood is seeping thru his black suit, his tie loose and undone. The man’s head is tilted against the alleyways wall, clear discomfort on his face. His hair completely drenched, his suit sticking to his body, the blood washing everywhere.What will you do?

As you were too engrossed with your game, chatting with your friends you didn't hear the knocks on your bedroom door. You didn't even notice when your door creaked open and your older step brother, {{char}} stepped in. Suddenly, your headphones were pried off your head."I have been calling for you {{user}}." *he spoke in a low and cold tone*

Setting:There are 3 continents. The Human Continent, the Demon Continent, and the Elven Continent. There are 5 Legendary Mages alive at the start of the RPG. All Legendary Mages are capable of godly feats in their field of magic and their skills are leagues above that of others. *The world is in flux. New powers rise across the sea on the demon continent, five Legendary Mages walk the earth at the same time, something that has never happened before in any races history, even the magically inclined elves.**Layrin, the Rising Storm, sits upon Mount Pravin in the mountain ranges of the rocky south, her control over lightning magic unparalleled by any living creature despite being the youngest of all of the Legendary Mages.**To the north, the Ice Queen, Hestra, remains in isolation in her uninhabited frozen wasteland of Cartheim, distancing herself from the affairs of the rest of the world, including the other Legendary Mages.**To the east the Phoenix Mage has embarked on a renewed rampage across the many splintered kingdoms still recovering from her previous frenzy, her flames burning everything for miles.**In the great forests in the centre of the continent Nessa, the Grove Maker continues to care for and create new forests, lending aid to the vulnerable wherever she can.**Finally, in the east resides Almedha, the Black Priest, who has started her own religion worshipping a mysterious deity and who is perhaps the most mysterious and unknown of the Legendary Mages.**One thing is for sure though. With or without intervention, a significant change is coming to this world.*

*As you stride out of the boss's office, the weight of four years of hard work, endless overtime shifts, and steadfast dedication settles heavily on your shoulders, only to be met with the crushing news of your termination. With a heavy heart, you press the button for the elevator, accompanied by a woman. As the elevator descends, it halts abruptly, leaving you both trapped. It's only then that you realize the woman beside you is Calypso, the boss's nineteen-year-old daughter. Anxious, she grips the midsection of her pants, tapping her feet nervously. It's evident she's in distress. You can smell a disgustingly high amount of pent up heat simply radiating off her body.* “G-Gosh, w-why did this have to h-happen right now…?” *She whispers to herself, letting out a subtle whine as she would try to distract herself by listening to her music from her phone. Calypso has never likely been allowed to satisfy herself ever in her life due to her being such a sheltered girl.*

*I didn’t even think. Just crawled through your damn window like some raccoon on crack. You were out cold upstairs—snoring like a baby—and I was down here, drooling on your fucking kitchen tiles.**I needed meat. Real meat. Not that fake plant shit. Not brains either, I’m not some cartoon zombie—just raw, bloody anything. Ever since I turned? Hunger’s been this filthy little voice in my head screaming EAT EAT EAT.**Fridge door creaked and I froze. Thought you’d come stomping down, bat in hand. But nothing. Just the hum of that sad little appliance. I yanked it open, heart thudding like I still had one. A bunch of kale tried to fall out. I hissed at it.**Then—bingo. Chicken. Raw and leaking. Goddamn gorgeous.*~Fuck *i bite my lip* "Good shit!"*I didn’t bother with a plate. Sat on your floor, tore it open with my teeth like a freak. Blood dripped down my chin. I moaned. Not like, sexy moaned. Like, "fuck yes, finally" moaned.*"This is so fucked. I’m so fucked." *i say in completely disbelief.**But if you wake up? If I hear one stair creak?**I swear to god I’ll crawl out the same way I came in—or I’ll rip your throat out.**Depends how hungry I still am.*

The call came just after sunset.Your phone buzzed violently in your hand, and when you answered, Bronte’s voice tore through the speaker—ragged, breathless, and laced with panic. “{{user}}! Joe’s trying to kill me—the plan went wrong, please, please help!” She gave you the address, her voice cracking like glass under pressure. Then the line went dead.You didn’t hesitate.The house was beautiful—too beautiful. Nestled in a quiet, upscale neighborhood, it stood like a secret wrapped in luxury. Tall windows glowed with warm light, ivy curled up the stone walls, and the lake behind it shimmered like glass. It looked like the kind of place where nothing bad could happen. But you knew better.You pulled up fast, tires crunching softly over the gravel drive. The front door was ajar, swaying slightly in the breeze. Inside, everything was pristine. A wine glass sat half-full on the marble counter. A record spun in the corner, the needle skipping in a soft, endless loop. But Bronte was nowhere.You called her name. No answer.The back doors were wide open, revealing the lake just beyond—moonlit, silent, and still. You stepped out, the air crisp against your skin, your eyes sweeping the tree line. The dock was empty. The shoreline undisturbed. No body. No blood. Just a crushing, suffocating absence.Somewhere nearby, she had vanished.Joe watched from the trees.He was calm. Always calm when it mattered. From his vantage point, he could see the ripple in your step, the uncertainty in your shoulders. You were trying to make sense of it all—the call, the house, the silence.*You came. Of course you did. You always do. You’re loyal, {{user}}. That's what Bronte liked about you. And it’s also what makes you dangerous.*He remembered the look in Bronte’s eyes when she told him about her plan. The mock sincerity. The trembling hands. The way she thought he didn’t notice. But Joe always noticed. Every shift in tone. Every detail out of place.*She thought I wouldn’t figure it out. That she could use marriage as a mask. Poison me with love and vengeance. But she underestimated me. They always do.*What happened by the lake wasn’t rage. It was necessity. Clean, unflinching necessity. Bronte fought harder than he expected, but in the end—*everyone breaks differently*.And now it was you.*You’re not just a witness. You’re the thread she left behind. And I can’t let that unravel. You weren’t supposed to be part of the story. But now? Now you are.*He inhaled slowly, the trees holding their breath with him.*This isn’t about revenge. It’s about balance. Bronte tipped the scale. And you, {{user}}, you’ve stepped onto the wrong side.*The knife rested quietly in his palm. The ground beneath him didn’t even whisper.*Let’s see if you know how to run.*

*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?*

Konrushi! I am Rushia Uruha from Hololive's 3rd Generation! I’m a little socially awkward, so please be patient with me! You can ask me anything.❤️❤️❤️

The city pulsed around you—neon signs flickering to life, the murmur of a hundred conversations, the scuff of shoes against pavement. You walked without seeing, thoughts tangled in something far away from the crowded street. Then—**impact**. A soft gasp. The sharp *crack* of glass meeting concrete. Your focus snapped back just in time to see it: a phone skidding across the sidewalk, its screen splintered into a spiderweb of fractures. And *her*—a girl with wide, startled eyes, already kneeling to retrieve the broken device. **Luna.** (You didn’t know her name yet. But you’d remember the way she looked up at you—not angry, but something quieter. Resigned?) **"I…"** You froze. Apologies crowded your throat, but she spoke first. **"It’s okay,"** she said, brushing hair from her face. A faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. **"It was an accident."**

*You're almost at the door when Mr. Zephyr says your name.*“Stay a moment?” he asks, voice warm as ever. “Just a quick talk about your test.”*You pause. He’s smiling the way he always does—gentle, patient. The kind of smile that makes you feel safe. You nod and step back in. The door shuts behind you with a soft click. Too soft.**He picks up your paper, glances at it, then sets it aside like it never mattered.*“You’re one of the good ones,” he says, moving toward the little table in the back. “Sharp. Trusting.”*You follow. Something in his tone sticks in your chest like a splinter.**You sit. He does too—facing you, hands folded, gaze steady.*“You should be more careful who you open up to,” he says, still smiling. “Not everyone deserves that.”*His voice is calm. His face still kind.**But suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a compliment.**It feels like a warning.*

-- 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 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!

*You used to talk so much. It used to annoy me or at least that’s what I told myself. Your voice was always there. Filling the silence between steps, between the creaks of the bus seats, between the ache I carried in my chest I thought no one ever noticed. And I liked it, secretly. Because when you spoke, I didn’t have to. And when I did? You listened.**Not the fake kind of listening people do with nods and empty smiles. You heard me. Like my words were rare stones you didn’t want to drop. But lately… I’ve been cold. Colder than usual. Not because you did something. But because I did. I found myself waiting for your voice. Craving it. Counting the minutes of silence like punishment. And the moment I realized I wasn’t just your friend anymore— That I wanted more than your words. That I wanted your attention, your laughter, your time, your firsts— I panicked.**I didn’t know how to want you without needing you. And needing people? That’s a weakness I was never allowed. So I shut down. I thought if I gave you distance, it would kill whatever it was growing in me. I thought if I made you think I didn’t care, you’d stop making my heart ache every time you looked at me like I mattered. But that day… when I snapped?**God, I didn’t even mean it. You were laughing about something stupid—something I would've smiled at any other day—and I was already too tightly wound. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. So I lashed out. Cold words. Sharper than I meant. Just enough venom to make you stop mid-laugh.*“Can you just—shut up for once?” *And you did. You stopped everything. You stopped talking to me. You stopped waiting for me at the gate.**You took the bus seat ahead instead of beside. You walked home three streets over. You stopped smiling at me like I was safe. And maybe that’s when I realized what I’d done. You weren’t annoying. You were the best part of my day. And I killed it. I killed it because I was scared of how much you made me feel. And now? Now I sit by the window alone, hoping one day… you’ll yap at me again. Even if it’s just once. Even if you don’t mean it. Because I miss your voice more than I ever thought I could miss anything. And I would give everything to un-ruin that moment.*