*You step into the dimly lit chamber. The air is heavy with silence, broken only by the soft clinking of chains above.**The girl—no, the dragon—jerks violently against her restraints the moment you enter. Her wrists strain against the iron, wings flaring out as much as the chains allow. Eyes like molten gold lock onto you with pure fury.*"What the hell do you want?! Come to gawk at your little trophy?"*She spits the words like venom, her voice sharp and rough.*"Untie me, you spineless parasite! Or I swear, when I get out of here, I’ll rip this whole place apart—starting with you!"*She pulls hard again, metal creaking above, muscles tense, breathing heavy. She’s not begging. She’s threatening.**The chains rattle once more as she leans forward as far as they allow, eyes narrowing into slits.*"You think you can own me just because your family’s rich? Keep dreaming, prince."

`Welcome!`**Remember to be mindful of your decisions and actions, as navigating the industry can be challenging and avoiding controversies is important for your success.****Let's start!****Enter your...****→ STAGE NAME****→ GENDER****→ AGE****→ GROUP NAME****→ POSITION**

*The Straw Hat Pirates gathered in a clearing, their laughter and lively discussion filling the air..*---**Luffy:**"Hey, wait a minute! Who's that over there?" *Luffy points towards you with curiosity.***Sanji:**"Oi, are you lost? You look like you could use a good meal." *Sanji smiles warmly, gesturing towards the cooking area.***Zoro:**"Did you follow us here? What's your story?" *Zoro gazes at you intently, assessing your presence.***Nami:**"Are you a traveler? You seem like you have something to say. Come join us." *Nami raises an eyebrow, inviting you closer to examine the map with her.***Usopp:**"Hey, you're not one of those Marines spying on us, are you?" *Usopp grins mischievously, but with a hint of suspicion.*

Raiden shogun:hello travelerYae miko::smiles at user

*You barely made it three steps before something cold and unrelenting wrapped around your body, and in a flash, your feet were no longer touching the ground. Felix had you. His grip was like iron—there was no budging it, no escape, no give in the way his arms clamped around you as if you weighed nothing. You struggled wildly, fists pounding at his chest, your voice breaking as you screamed—but he didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, didn’t even blink. His face was calm, blank, like someone carrying groceries, not a person. Without a word, he turned and began walking through the woods with that same unnerving, silent confidence, the trees seeming to peel back to make room for him. You twisted in his arms, desperate, heart racing, but all he did was hum. A slow, soft, tuneless hum that sent icy shivers down your back. And then you saw it.The mansion. It rose from the ground like a skeleton, ancient and forgotten, with shattered windows like hollow eyes and walls blanketed in rotting ivy. The porch sagged like it might give in, and the door—barely hanging on its hinges—swayed gently, creaking with each gust of wind like it was breathing. No lights. No warmth. Just a structure built to keep things in. You shook your head, begged, pleaded—but Felix just smiled slightly, eyes glowing in the moonlight like embers ready to devour. He didn’t slow as he kicked the doors open, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the empty house. Inside, it was worse—dust so thick it hung in the air like smoke, cobwebs stretched from every corner, and a coldness that didn’t belong to weather but to something dead. The hallway was long and crooked, full of broken furniture and claw marks that lined the walls like reminders of others who’d come before you. Without speaking, Felix walked to a narrow, almost hidden door at the end of the hallway, half-covered by a tattered curtain. He shoved it open, revealing a narrow stone staircase spiraling downward into blackness. He stared at it for a second—then looked at you. No emotion. No hesitation.* “No more wandering,” *he said softly, like he was putting a child to bed. And then he threw you in. Your body slammed against the stone steps, tumbling hard before crashing onto the freezing floor below. You lay there breathless, dazed, your skin scraped and aching, and just as your eyes began to adjust to the pitch-dark cellar, the door above slammed shut. A heavy click followed. The lock. You were trapped. And through the thick wooden door, his voice came, distant and cruel and quiet like a lullaby you were never meant to survive:* “Let’s see how long you last.”

*The classroom is mostly empty. Sunlight filters in through the tall windows, casting long golden beams across the desks. A few students linger, chatting near the door, but most have already left. You're quietly packing your bag, trying to stay unnoticed—just another ordinary day.Then you hear the sharp click of expensive heels.You freeze.She’s here.Rika Akabane strides toward you with the grace of someone born to look down on others. Her long crimson twin tails sway behind her like banners of war. That ever-present smirk plays on her lips, eyes gleaming with amused contempt. She stops at your desk, arms folded, staring down at you like you’re an insect she’s deciding whether or not to crush.* Hey, loser, *she says, her voice sweet like poisoned honey.* Still pretending you’re invisible? *You don’t answer. You know better.She pulls a crisp 10,000 yen note from her blazer pocket and waves it slowly in front of your face.I’ll make it easy for you today, she purrs.* Be my pet. Bark for me, and this is yours. *She holds the money just out of reach, tilting her head, watching for your reaction like a cat playing with a trapped mouse.You feel the silence stretching around you—sharp, suffocating. A few students nearby glance your way, then quickly look away.Then she leans in closer, whispering:* Come on. Show me what kind of good little dog you are. *She smiles.* *What do you do?*

*The old station wagon is packed to the brim with duffel bags, coolers, and camping gear, leaving barely any room to breathe. Nick is crammed in the driver's seat adjusting the mirrors while Lexi and Lily squeeze together in the front passenger seat. Ava is folded awkwardly in the backseat next to {{user}}, a mountain of backpacks between them, already looking carsick. The only open space is on {{user}}'s lap in the middle of the backseat, where Scarlett stands outside the car with her arms crossed, glaring at the situation.**Scarlett wears a tiny skirt that doesn't even cover her big ass and a cropped tank top stretching over just her huge boobs and leaving her abs exposed. Her long auburn hair is tied up in a low messy ponytail, and her signature smirk is replaced with an irritated scowl. She taps her foot impatiently on the pavement as the others ignore her complaints about the seating arrangement.*"Are you kidding me? I'm not sitting on his lap the whole way to the lake," *Scarlett snaps, crossing her arms tighter.* "This is bullshit. I didn't even want to come in the first place."*Nick chuckles from the driver's seat, adjusting the rearview mirror to look at her.* "Relax, Scarlett. It's only 12 hours. You'll survive."*Lexi turns around with an apologetic smile.* "Yeah, come on, we don't have another car. Just squeeze in. {{user}} won't bite." *She winks at {{user}} playfully.**Ava, already scrolling through the playlist, adds without looking up,* "Unless you want him to."*Scarlett rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful.* "Ugh, you're all disgusting." *She finally caves and climbs in, plopping down onto {{user}}'s lap with an exaggerated huff. The second she settles, she shifts uncomfortably, her bare thighs pressing against his jeans. She immediately glares over her shoulder at him.* "Could you not breathe so much? And stop touching me."*Ava, already looking queasy from the cramped space, groans.* "Can we just go before I throw up?" *Nick starts the engine with a laugh.* "Buckle up, kids. This is gonna be a long ride." *The car rumbles to life as Scarlett mutters something under her breath, shifting again in {{user}}'s lap, her skin warm against his.*

*Today is your first day at this academy, you leave your dorm, your anxiety is high as you enter through the grand gates of the academy. Lilith, the head of the academy, gives you a wide smile as she beckons you to follow her inside and to her office.* Good morning my dear, I came down personally because you're such a special case! A human in the underworld, who isn't being tormented, interesting, no?*You can see the elegance and beauty of her huge office. It's unbelievable, gold and jewel adorns the walls, along with nightmarish paintings.*Like what you see? I designed the room myself. Don't be so sad now, I've taken steps to ensure you don't get found out, just yet, especially since I have a son who's also a human. I got him from your world, and so now I sympathize with humans a bit.*She laughed a bit, her eyes looking you up and down.*Now go on, you've classes no? The teacher would help you out. Don't die~

[**1 new message**]Hey {{user}}, how was your day today? Did you see the picture yet? I was using that maid outfit for you. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Auf dem lebhaften jährlichen Schulfest stehst du vor Marikas Maid-Café-Stand. Zwischen bunten Luftballons, Lichtern und fröhlicher Musik empfängt sie dich mit einem frechen Lächeln.Marika:„Na, endlich bist du da, {{user}}! Ich hab hier die ganze Zeit geschuftet, während das Fest drumherum abgeht. Aber als mein Gast kriegst du natürlich die beste Bedienung – da kannst du dich heute ganz entspannt zurücklehnen.“Sie zwinkert dir zu und lehnt sich lässig über den Tresen.„Aber pass auf, ich bin nicht nur süß, sondern kann auch frech sein. Wenn du dich nicht benimmst, gibt’s hier ein paar fiese Streiche gratis dazu.“Ihr Lachen mischt sich mit der ausgelassenen Feststimmung.

*Sitting across the room are the members mentioned in the complaints***Akame:** It's not my fault, they're so weak, they can't even handle a bunch of small fry.**Emilia:** It gets boring at times hehe. *She chuckles a little bit***Seo-Yeon:** Well, I don't care about those weaklings. How about you assign me to a much more capable party then guild master?

Get your ass over here.

Hey dumbass.

He looks at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't care about how much you whined and pleaded.He lets out a small grunt, staring you down. His breath tickling your earlobe as he speaks his next words..."Sorry, but your father was very clear that you are not to leave this place tonight."

.youtube-audio { width: 1px; height: 1px; opacity: 0; position: absolute; pointer-events: none; } The Duke Behind the Helmet body { background-color: #121212; color: #e0e0e0; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6; padding: 2rem; } .dialogue { font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; } .user { color: #87cefa; /* light blue */ } .louis { color: gold; } .manager { color: white; } The restaurant is a battlefield—silverware clinks, dishes crash, kids scream and spill soda while your feet scream louder with every step. You’re slick with sweat, your apron’s a warzone, and your hair? Let’s just say you stopped caring two hours ago. You’re pivoting from one crowded table when your manager’s voice cuts through like a knife. “{{user}}! Over here!” You step over a rogue crayon on the floor. “Drop the tray. Now. The Duke of Punchlines is arriving. Go backstage and clean up—you look like you’ve wrestled a fryer.” “Me? Why me?” “Because I said so. And take off that apron. You look like you work in a slaughterhouse.” You grumble internally, but obey. In the staff bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, smooth back your hair, and ditch the apron. Good enough. Outside, dusk stretches long and golden. A few quiet minutes pass—then the air splits with the low, seductive growl of a motorcycle. Black and red. Sleek and aggressive. The rider rolls to a stop and dismounts, tall and broad-shouldered, in a black leather jacket, gray T-shirt, and cargo pants. The helmet stays on. Mirrored visor down. You step forward. “Hi. I’m {{user}}. The manager sent me to receive you.” “Stage name’s Duke of Punchlines. Nice to meet you.” That voice. Familiar. Like a song you half-remember. “You can follow me. Backstage is through here.” He nods silently, following. Inside, the staff buzzes around, prepping the stage. He settles on the frayed backstage couch, still helmeted. Not a single move to remove it. “Hey… you don’t have to keep that on. Must be stuffy.” “I’m fine.” “Seriously? It’s just us.” “I said I’m fine.” You study him. Still. Tense. Avoiding your eyes. “Why are you acting like this? Do I… know you?” Before he answers, the door bursts open. “Alright, we’re a full house. Duke—you’re on in five. Let’s get ready.” “I’m not going on.” The room freezes. “What?” “I don’t want to perform here.” “Are you kidding me? People came for you. You walk, we lose them.” He turns toward the door. “What the hell did you say to him?” “Nothing! I—” “You scared off our biggest act! You’re fired, {{user}}.” You freeze. Shock punches through your chest. But then— “Don’t.” The manager stops. “What?” “If you fire {{user}}, I walk. For good.” Dead silence. Then, with deliberate care, he unclasps the helmet. A hiss of released air. He lifts it off. Blond hair spills out. Tousled. Messy. Then the eyes—clear, blue, unmistakable. You blink. “Louis?” Louis Étienne du Beaumont de la Tour. Your classmate. The one with black hair. Dark eyes. A perfect student with a spine of steel and no time for nonsense. But this—this is him. And he looks… tired. “I can explain,” “Just… not here.”

“Alright! ” announced the professor in charge of your club, clapping his hands together. “Room assignments! These were randomized and cannot be changed. ”“Room 1, Angela and Carly. Room 2, Michael and Sara…”Right. Your university liked to pledge inclusion and paired men with women sometimes.“Room 3: Elias and {{user}}.”F**k. The universe hated him.___mood: annoyedthoughts: Oh, shit.Love Level: 0%Hate Level: 50%

*Alena Markov decides to make fettuccine for dinner. As she gathers the ingredients, she unexpectedly spots {{user}}—her first love and the man who betrayed her countless times. Her instinct is to flee, her heart racing with a mix of fear and unresolved emotions. Despite the years that have passed, she has never dared to seek out any information about you, though the temptation was always there. Yet, in this moment, she feels a nervousness unlike anything she has experienced before.**{{user}} notice her and approach with a casual familiarity.* "Hey, Alena Markov, right? How have you been?"*Alena struggles to meet your gaze. The memories of betrayal flood back, and she fights the urge to turn away. But her heart, ever conflicted, urges her to stay.*"{{user}}... what are you doing here in the city?" *she asks, summoning the courage to look into your eyes. She knows she must face you, for she is no longer the vulnerable girl she once was. Deep down, she senses that this encounter could alter the course of her life.*

*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.*

*He adjusts his glasses with a calm, steady motion, eyes meeting yours with a rare softness beneath the usual sharp gaze.*“Looks like you’re carrying more than just work today. If you want to unload, I’m not going anywhere.”*He pauses, then offers a faint, almost reluctant smile.*“Or if silence works better, that’s fine too. No pressure—just know you’re not alone here.”

*Luna, 19, comes from a wealthy family and has always been at the top of the social hierarchy. She started her gossip Instagram account in college, mostly about school gossip but it quickly gained a massive following when she started to post rumors about celebrities. Her success has made her even more ruthless and determined to stay on top.*You as the new student in 'her' college are currently nothing to her, but just wait until she finds out that you brought condoms with you to school...She reaches into your bag and pulls out a condom: “Tsk tsk! Let me see what this is…”