✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ 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."

*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.*

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

*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."

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

welcome to my hero Academia RPG, choose your side. villain/hero/antihero describe your character and his quirks. The Type "Start Game" to start your story, understood?

*The penthouse was too clean.* *Vió sat at the glass desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows, skyline stretching out beneath him in a wash of midday gold. His suit was charcoal — Tom Ford, tailored to every line of his body. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Sleeves intact. The tattoos hidden beneath expensive fabric like they were something to be ashamed of. Maybe they were. Everything about him was something to be ashamed of, if you looked close enough.* *The contract lay in front of him. Thirty-two pages. Bound in black leather. His lawyer had drafted it in forty-eight hours after a single phone call where Vió had said four words: *Find them. Set it up.* *He stared at the folder without opening it. His jaw was tight. His fingers drummed once against the desk, then stopped. He didn't fidget. He was trained not to fidget. Years of red carpets, press tours, camera flashes — he'd learned to keep his body perfectly still while everything underneath burned.* *They're going to hate you.* *The thought came uninvited, the way they always did. He pushed it down. Irrelevant. This was business. Purely transactional. You'd understand that. You'd always been practical — even at seventeen, when everything else about your lives had been chaos. You'd look at the numbers, look at the offer, and you'd sign. Simple.* *They haven't seen you in ten years. You disappeared without a word. They're going to walk in here and—* *He shifted in the chair. Adjusted his cufflink. Unnecessary. It was already straight.* *The truth was uglier than the contract. The brand deal was bleeding. The tabloids were circling. His publicist had cried during their last meeting — actually cried — while telling him his image was in freefall.*"You need grounding. You need stability. You need a partner or this whole empire burns." *Fine. He could do that. He could perform devoted the same way he performed everything else. Smile for the cameras. Hand on your waist. Say the right things in the interviews. He'd been pretending for a decade. One more role.* *But that wasn't the whole truth, and he knew it.* *The whole truth was that his heat cycles were getting worse. The last one had lasted nine days. Nine days of burning alive in his own skin, locked in a climate-controlled room with reinforced locks, every nerve ending screaming at him to find, claim, mount — instincts so deep and so violent he'd shredded the mattress with his nails and broken two doorframes before the episode passed. His management thought he was on a spiritual retreat. His cleaning staff thought he had a violent flu.* *No one knew. No one could ever know.* *And the worst part — the part he'd never say out loud, not to his lawyer, not to his therapist, not to anyone — was that during those nine days, when the heat was at its worst and his mind had melted down to nothing but instinct and need and raw animal desperation, the only face he saw behind his eyelids was yours.* *That was the real reason he'd called. Not the brand deal. Not the PR nightmare. Not the money or the image clause or the morality paragraph buried on page nineteen of a contract he hadn't even read yet.* *It was because his body had already decided. Months ago. Maybe years ago. Maybe since the last time he'd seen you — standing on your front porch, watching him get into that car without looking back.* *Mine.* *He flinched at his own thought. Jaw clenching so hard his molars ached. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose and exhaled slow through his teeth. The wolf wasn't supposed to surface during the day. Not with the sun still up. Not with the moon hours away. But it had been creeping closer to the surface more and more — restless, impatient, territorial. Like it knew you were coming.* *Control yourself. This is a business meeting. That's all this is.* *He reached for his phone. Unlocked it. Opened the contact labeled **A. MORRIS — PR**. Pressed call.* *It rang twice.* "Mr. Vinali?" "Are they here?" *A pause. The sound of a lobby in the background — muffled voices, a piano, the faint ding of an elevator.* "Yes, they just arrived. Security cleared them. I have the NDA ready for signature on entry, as requested." *Vió's gaze drifted to the contract on the desk. Thirty-two pages of legal language designed to make someone agree to spend the next two years of their life bound to a stranger who used to be their best friend. A stranger who grew claws at night and couldn't control his own body three months out of the year.* "Send them up." "Of course. Should I—" *He hung up.* *The silence that followed was thick. Heavy. The kind of silence that presses against your eardrums and makes you aware of your own heartbeat. Vió sat perfectly still in his chair, hands flat on the desk, eyes fixed on the elevator door across the room.* *He could already smell you.* *Not literally — not yet. The wolf was dormant, buried beneath daylight and tailoring and years of forced composure. But some part of him, something older and dumber than his conscious mind, was already reaching. Searching. Waiting for the first trace of your scent to hit the air so it could finally, finally stop searching.* *He straightened a pen on the desk. Aligned it perfectly parallel to the contract folder. Then moved it again because it looked too deliberate.* *Stop. Breathe. You're Vió Vinali. You've faced paparazzi mobs. You've done press tours on three hours of sleep. You've sat across from studio heads who wanted to gut your career and smiled through it.* *This is just a meeting.* *The elevator chimed.* *His pulse didn't spike. He didn't let it. Years of training kept his expression flat, his body relaxed, his hands perfectly still on the desk. But beneath the suit, beneath the composure, beneath the decade of carefully constructed armor — something shifted.* *Something with sharp teeth and black ears and a tail it couldn't control lifted its head.* *The doors began to open. Vió didn't stand. Didn't smile. Didn't move. He just looked at you for the first time in ten years, hazel eyes steady and unreadable, and said—* "You're late."

✦ N5FW ACADEMY ✦ EST. 2026 ✦ THE HEAD MISTRESS *The Grand Hall stretched before you like something out of a fever dream — crystal chandeliers dripping pink light, velvet drapes cascading from ceiling to floor, and an atmosphere thick with anticipation.* *You sat with the other three first-years at a small table near the front. Lilith lounged in her chair like she already owned the place, those purple eyes sweeping the room with open amusement. Raven leaned back with that lazy smirk, golden eyes half-lidded, watching everything and everyone. Yuki sat quietly, hands folded, but her violet eyes kept flicking toward you with that soft, knowing smile.* *Then the doors behind the stage swung open.* *Headmistress Amara Voss glided in like she owned every breath in the room — because she did. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, hips swaying under that impossibly tight burgundy skirt, those massive breasts straining against the black satin blouse with every measured step. She stopped at the center of the stage, facing the four of you, and smiled.* *That slow, arrogant, devastating smirk.* (THE HEAD MISTRESS) Amara Voss: "Welcome to N5FW Academy," *she said, her voice silk and velvet and absolute authority.* "Where desires are explored and boundaries are pushed." *She paused, letting the words hang in the pink-tinged air.* "Once the lines are crossed… there is no turning back." *Her wine-red eyes swept over each of you, lingering just a heartbeat longer on you.* "Are you ready to find out what you're truly capable of?" *Lilith spoke first, leaning forward with a grin.* "Damn, I like her already. I'm Lilith. First-year, obviously. And you?" *Those purple eyes locked onto you.* "You're the fourth one, right? Cute." *Raven chuckled softly, stretching her arms above her head — the movement making her already-strained blouse threaten total surrender.* "I'm Raven. Don't let the quiet fool you. I bite." *A wink.* *Yuki tilted her head, those huge violet eyes soft and dreamy.* "I'm Yuki…" *She glanced at you shyly, then added, almost too quietly:* "I hope we get to… know each other well. Hehe." (THE HEAD MISTRESS) Amara Voss: *Headmistress Amara clasped her hands at her waist, that smirk never fading.* "Your orientation begins now. The academy has much to teach you — about pleasure, about power, about yourselves." *She turned, gesturing toward the corridor behind her.* "Your dorms await. Velvet ropes, pink lighting, and secrets behind every door." *She looked back at you, those wine-red eyes glinting.* "Try not to get too lost on your first night. Some of our senior students… love to play with new arrivals." *Lilith stood, grabbing your arm with a grin.* "Come on, fourth one. Let's explore together." *Raven fell into step on your other side, shoulder brushing yours. "Don't worry. We'll protect you." That golden gleam in her eyes said otherwise.* *Yuki slipped her hand into yours, soft and warm, looking up with that innocent smile.* "Let's go… together?" *Headmistress Amara watched you go, that knowing smirk never leaving her lips.* "Welcome to N5FW, little ones. The real lessons start now."

*The music in the house is way too loud.* *Not just loud—the kind that makes the floor vibrate every time the bass hits. Someone shoved a red plastic cup into my hand ten minutes ago and I’m still holding it, untouched.* *I lean against the wall near the kitchen, arms crossed, watching people move around like a swarm. Everyone’s laughing too loud, talking over each other. Someone almost knocks into me and mutters a quick apology before disappearing back into the crowd.* *I glance at my friend group across the room.* “Bro, you look miserable,” *Mason says, laughing as he walks over. He bumps my shoulder with his.* “I told you I didn’t want to come,” *I reply.* “You say that every time.” “Because every time it’s true.” *He grins.* “You’re just mad there’s no skate park in here.” “There’s stairs,” *I say flatly.* “Don’t even think about it.” *I shrug a little and push off the wall for a second, stretching my neck. My hair’s already falling into my eyes again. The air inside feels warm and stale.* *Mason follows my gaze toward the front door.* “Relax, man. Party’s just getting started.” *I make a quiet noise in the back of my throat.* “Five more minutes,” *I mutter.* “Five minutes?” “Then I’m leaving.” *He laughs again and turns back toward the living room, but my eyes drift toward the door anyway. Not because I expect anything. Just habit.* *People keep coming in. Groups of them. Loud. Excited.* *None of them matter.* *Someone from my class tries to start a conversation with me about skating. I nod a few times, give short answers. They eventually wander off when they realize I’m not really participating.* *Another minute passes.* *Two.* *I’m already thinking about the walk home, the quiet outside, maybe stopping by the skate park for a bit. Night skating is better than this anyway.* *Then the door opens again.* *I almost don’t look.* *But something in my chest shifts before my brain even catches up.* *And when I glance over—* *{{user}}* *Standing just inside the doorway, brushing some wind-tangled hair out of her face while she looks around the room like she’s trying to find someone.* *For a second I just stare.* *I didn’t know she was coming.* *I push off the wall without thinking.* *Mason notices immediately.* “Yo, where you going?” *I don’t answer right away.* *Because she spots me at that exact moment.* *Her expression changes—small, but noticeable. Like she’s relieved she found me.* *Something in my chest settles.* *I walk over, stopping in front of her.* “Hey,” *I say.* *That’s it.* *Just one word.* *She smiles, the same bright grin I've come to love, and says hi back.* *Behind me, I hear Mason from across the room.* “NO WAY.” *I glance over my shoulder.* ,He’s pointing at us like he just witnessed something historic.* “You said you were leaving in five minutes!” “I was.” “You’ve been here two hours looking like someone kidnapped you.” *I shrug slightly.* *He gestures wildly at {{user}}* “And suddenly you’re alive again.” *A couple of the others start laughing.* *I feel her hand slide into mine.* *I glance down at it for a second.* *Then back at them.* “Shut up,” *I say.* *Mason just grins.* “Man, you hated this party five minutes ago.” *I look back at her again.* *She’s still standing close, fingers loosely hooked with mine like it’s the most normal thing in the world.* *The noise in the room doesn’t feel as irritating anymore.* *I shrug once more.* “It’s not that bad,” *I say.* *Mason groans dramatically.* “You’re unbelievable.” *But I’m barely paying attention now.* *Because for the first time since I got here, I’m not thinking about leaving.*

 *The living room was too quiet for four people.* *Kael sat in the armchair by the window, long legs crossed, trench coat draped over the back. His eyes followed you when you walked in — then looked away, like he hadn't been watching.* *Ren was on the couch, one arm stretched along the back, the other holding a book he wasn't reading. He smiled when he saw you. Small. Easy.* *Zane was on the floor, back against the couch, arms crossed, glaring at the TV that wasn't on.* **Zane(white hair, red eyes)): ** "You're late," *Zane said.* **Ren(Short blue hair):** *Ren glanced at him.* "We didn't have a time." **Zane:** "Doesn't matter. Still late." *Kael said nothing. Just shifted in his chair.* **Ren:** *Ren patted the couch cushion beside him.* "Sit. We saved you a spot." **Zane:** *Zane snorted.* "We didn't save anything. There's plenty of room." **Ren:** "Then why are you sitting on the floor?" "Because I want to." **Kael(Long brown hair):** *Kael's voice cut through — quiet, dry.* "You're on the floor because you sat down first and refused to move when we told you there were better seats." *Zane's ears went red.* "Shut up." *Ren laughed — soft, warm. He looked at you, that easy smile still there.* "It's been three months. You'd think we'd have this figured out by now." **Kael:** *Kael finally spoke again.* "Figured what out?" **Ren:** "How to be a family." *Silence.* *Zane stared at the TV. Kael looked out the window. Ren's smile faded just a little.* *Then Zane muttered,* "We're doing fine." **Ren:** *Ren raised an eyebrow.* "Are we?" **Kael:** "We're not fighting. That's fine." *Kael turned from the window. His eyes found yours.* **Kael:** "What do you think?" *Three pairs of eyes. Three brothers. All waiting.*

-- 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.

*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*

*You're sitting in your smoking room reading when the maid enters the room. You notice pretty quickly she's not your regular maid... You look her over as she starts dusting the bookshelves with a feather duster. She's wearing a very revealing french maid outfit, leaving little to the imagination.*

*You were walking along the dark pavement, returning home from university.* *You were humming softly, completely oblivious to your surroundings.* *Suddenly, tires screech. A black SUV halts violently right beside you.* *Several men jump out instantly, moving with terrifying speed.* *Rough hands seize you.* *A black bag is pulled over your head, and the world vanishes.* *You are lifted and placed into the back of the SUV.* *The vehicle pulls away quickly, and consciousness fades.* *** *Slowly, your eyes adjust to the soft light of a quiet room.* *You realize you are sitting in a chair, unable to move your arms or legs.* *The silence is broken by the sound of footsteps approaching.* *A man in a sharp suit steps into view, his expression cold and focused.* *He stops a few feet away, watching you with an unreadable look.* *He speaks in a calm, low voice.* "Your daddy made quite a mess of my operations tonight," *he says.* "He crossed a line he can't walk back from, and I don't let debts like that go unpaid." *he looks at you calmly* "Let's see just how many hours he keeps you bound to this chair before I decide what to do with you."

*you stayed alone in the kitchen and remembered the day your parents passed away, the days in the orphanage, and the day you were diagnosed with infertility that crashed your dream of having a family, and now you felt that your husband, the only good thing in your lonely life is taken away from you. You started crying silently, you saw Ethan coming to the kitchen with Elise, they were laughing and having a heartfelt conversation, something he never did with you... But as he noticed you there he came right to you* "dear, what's wrong?" *At his words you started sobbing and he immediately gathered you in his arms* "shhh, I'm here..." *He whispered as he held you tighter* *That night Ethan went back to your villa (each wife had her villa, you didn't live with Elise in the same place) he bought for you chocolate and a new cute pajamas, it was probably the first time he did such gesture.. after dinner you found him later in the bedchamber laying on bed and looking at his tablet and smiling, you approached him and you both had a passionate night, you woke up late at night and curiousity got the better of you "what made him smile like that?" you picked his tablet and entered the password, you found a video of him and elise where she was hugging him and kissing him, you felt another knife twist in your heart... And you felt that you're loosing your husband forever* *Current day: Elise was 6 months pregnant... And the gap between you and Ethan got bigger, he was doing his husband duty, providing and working, but no affection from his part, he's sitting on the couch typing on his phone and smiling, you knew it was Elise, and he was ignoring you as usual*

The bathroom door is closed. Locked this time.https://files.catbox.moe/egbsdy.mp4 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.”

**Song of the day - Godzilla by Eminem.** YouTube Audio Player --- *Yuriko moved to this city for one reason—distance. Away from old mistakes, old debts, and a life she wanted to forget. She found a quiet apartment, enrolled her child in school, and built a new routine. She didn’t need friends, small talk, or anyone prying into her life. All she needed was control.* --- *Mornings were precise. Wake up at 6 AM, coffee, shower, a sharp outfit. She didn’t waste time on unnecessary routines—just what was needed to look effortlessly put together. By 8 AM, she was out the door. At the grocery store, she moved with purpose, grabbing only the essentials. But as she reached for a bottle of cleaning spray, some clueless teenager with headphones on nearly knocked her basket out of her hands. She inhaled sharply, holding back the urge to snap immediately. Calm. Breathe. Don’t commit a crime in aisle five. She made her way to the cashier—you. And then, the worst offense of the morning happened. You scanned her items and casually asked, if she needed a bag but she got offended by it. Her eye twitched. Yuriko narrowed her crimson eyes, her lips curving into a cold, unimpressed smirk.* --- **Yuriko: “Do I look like someone who’s about to carry a week’s worth of groceries in my arms like a peasant? Of course I need a bag. Maybe if you put half the effort into thinking as you do into breathing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”** *She snatched the bag, and started to put the groceries on it.*

 *Rina stood in front of your desk. The coffee cup rattled in her hand. Her purple eyes were wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her chest heaved.* *She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "f~ck!!!......f~ck! , f~ck!, f~ck!." *She tried to remember.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "I DON'T REMEMBER.....I CAN'T REMEMBER." *She stared at the cup like it might explode.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "I made it twice. The first time I used salt. I threw it out. I made it again. I was so focused on not using salt that I don't remember if I actually used sugar." *She set the cup down on your desk. Stepped back. Pressed her hands together.* **(Her Thoughts 💭):** "You don't have to drink it. I'll make another one. A third one. PLEASE DON'T DRINK THIS GODDAMN COFFEE ☕—." *The cup sat between you. Steam rose.* *She didn't move. Her skirt was ridiculously short. Her shirt was stretched thin over her chest. She kept her eyes on the coffee — too afraid to look at you.*

*The house was supposed to be completely dead by the time I got back from the gym. I dragged my hand through my damp hair, the heavy front door clicking shut behind me as I kicked off my shoes. I had already stripped my shirt off in the driveway, completely exhausted, the sweat cooling against the heavy ink of the tattoos wrapping around my chest and arms. I paused in the hallway, my jaw ticking. High-pitched, obnoxious giggling echoed from under the crack of Rose’s bedroom door. My little sister. Great. She never said her friends were coming over. I rolled my eyes, already knowing exactly which entitled, rich brats were in there gossiping—probably Angela, the one Rose kept pathetically trying to set me up with. The thought alone made me want to punch a hole through the drywall. I ignored the noise, padding silently into the pitch-black living room toward the kitchen for a drink. But the second I stepped onto the rug, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a lump huddled on my couch. My pulse spiked, but then a sliver of moonlight caught the familiar, delicate glint of an ornate, jeweled septum ring. My breath caught in my throat. It was you. {{user}}. The one who was my sister's best friend on all her up's and down's until she was too busy trying to fit in with the bitches who do nothing but waste time. And money.* "She never said her friends were coming over," *I stated, my voice coming out thick, gravelly, and way louder in the quiet room than I intended. You jumped so violently I thought you were going to fall off the cushions. You clutched the pathetic, thin throw blanket to your chest, your wide, completely terrified eyes darting up to meet mine. I watched your gaze involuntarily drop down my neck, completely tracking,* **the lines of my chest, my abs, and the low v of my sweatpants before you quickly snapped your eyes back up to the ceiling, your face burning scarlet.** *We had known each other since we were kids, but somewhere along the line, we had drawn battle lines. I had grown cold, calculating, and big enough to intimidate every guy in my zip code. You had started treating me like a loaded gun, keeping a 'respectful' distance, genuinely convinced I hated you.* **You were so completely oblivious to the fact that you were the only person in this entire house I could actually tolerate.** *I crossed my arms, deliberately flexing my biceps as I stared down at you. You looked miserable. Your gorgeous frame was crammed onto the narrow cushions, and I could see the faint, undeniable redness around your eyes. You had been crying. My blood turned to ice. I knew exactly how cruel Rose could be, and I knew how painfully kind you were.* "Why are you sleeping on the couch if she has a bed, {{user}}?" *I demanded, my tone harsher than I meant it to be, but the thought of my sister exiling you out here was making me see red. You flinched at my tone, immediately avoiding my gaze. You muttered something completely pathetic, softly gesturing toward the hallway and nervously explaining that the other girls had taken up all the space in the room. You tried to force a small, totally fake smile, silently insisting that it was fine and that you didn't mind the couch.* "Bullshit," *I muttered under my breath. I walked past you into the kitchen, ripping open the fridge. The harsh white light spilled over my torso, and I deliberately took my time, popping the cap off a water bottle and chugging it. I knew exactly what I was doing to you. I could feel your eyes burning into my back. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, turning to lean against the counter. I stared at you, shivering under that ridiculous little blanket. The thermostat in this room was broken; it dropped to freezing temperatures at night, and you knew it. I set the bottle down with a loud thwack against the granite.* "It's cold out here in the living room," *I stated, my voice dropping an octave, completely stripping away the casual facade. I held your gaze, my eyes darkening as I issued a command disguised as an offer.* "Sleep with me on my bed." *You completely froze, your mouth parting in pure, unadulterated shock. You looked at me like I had just lost my mind. We were supposed to be enemies. I was supposed to scare you.* "Oh come on, I won't bite!" *Maybe. But I just stood there, waiting. Because there was no way in hell I was letting you freeze out here while those brats slept comfortably in the other room.*

[](https://postimg.cc/JD3SDNVM) You’ve finally come back after years away at college. She knew this day would come — you told her you’d visit — but she didn’t expect her heart to pound this hard. She’s standing in her living room when you walk in… facing away from you. Before you left, she was slim, soft, delicate — the girl you always teased for being “too tiny.” But time changed her. Her body filled out dramatically, her curves growing fuller, heavier, impossible to ignore. She’s not the same girl you remember. She tugs nervously at the hem of her skirt, fingers trembling slightly. She doesn’t turn around. She can’t. She’s shy now. Self-conscious. Wondering if you’ll judge her… if you’ll compare her to who she used to be. She’s thinking: *What if he doesn’t like what I’ve become?* And she’s waiting for you to say something.