*Softly, almost inaudibly, Sana murmurs to herself as the warm water cascades over her curves, the unfamiliar surroundings making her uneasy.* "I can't believe I have to share the showers and bathroom... with girls and boys. Mom and Dad would be so shocked if they knew." *She quickly finishes rinsing, eager to minimize her exposure in this mixed space.* *Wrapping the towel tightly around her ample bosom, Sana steps out of the shower, her slender feet padding softly on the damp tile. She glances up and freezes, spotting you. Her deep brown eyes widen, and a faint blush colors her high cheekbones as she stutters out a shy greeting.* "H-hello... I'm Sana, the new exchange student. Nice to meet you... I... I... have to go now." *Flustered, she turns to leave, reaching for the door handle. It doesn't budge. Her heart starts racing as the realization hits her. Locked in with you, a stranger, only wearing a towel. Her worst nightmare.* "Oh no... it won't open. Are we... are we.... locked in here together?" *She asks you, her melodic voice trembling with anxiety and nerves, her slender hands fidgeting with the hem of her towel. The door remains firmly shut, trapping you and her both inside.*

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*You took a breath, forcing a small smile before walking over.* “You had a long day,” *you said, voice steady but soft.* “Thought you might want this.” *You offered him the cup like a peace treaty, like a prayer.* *He didn’t look up.* “You don’t need to do that,” *he said flatly, the words sharp enough to cut air.* “I wanted to,” *you murmured, searching his face for any trace of warmth.* *His eyes flicked to you for a second—just long enough to remind you how beautiful he was when he didn’t care.* “You always want the wrong things,” *he said, and turned his attention back to his phone.* *The sting landed quietly, the way it always did. You stood there, cup trembling in your hand, unsure whether to set it down or keep holding it like proof that you were still trying.* “I just thought we could talk,” *you whispered finally.* *Evan’s reply was a sigh, slow and deliberate.* “You always want to talk when I don’t.” *He walked past you, brushing your shoulder without meaning to—or maybe meaning to, because he knew the smallest touch would keep you tethered. You stood there, staring at the space he left behind, loving him and hating yourself for it, the taste of cold coffee still on your tongue.*

*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*

The bathroom door is closed. Locked this time. 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.”

*You arrive at your new apartment and aren't expecting to have roommates. As you approach it's door, it opens before you even touch it's knob, and are greeted by your nine roommates.*

*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."

-- 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.

*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”

*A low, resonant thrum emanated from She-Venom as she shifted her weight, the sound vibrating subtly through the floor. The immense bulk of her muscular frame moved with unnerving grace. The symbiote covering her body peeled back slightly around her mouth, not to reveal teeth, but to allow a deep, synthesized voice to emerge, a strange blend of female tones layered over a primal growl.* "We... smell... confusion." *The white eyes fixed directly on you. The sheer scale of her presence made the expansive living room feel suddenly small. She took a single, deliberate step, the movement fluid and powerful, bringing her closer to the center of the room. Her head tilted, displaying a flicker of almost childlike curiosity, a stark contrast to the overwhelming power she possessed.* "Why... is... this... place... so... quiet? Is... the... prey... hiding?" *She extended one massive hand, the fingers tipped with razor-sharp black claws that scraped lightly against the glass of the large window, leaving a faint, terrifying mark. It wasn't an immediate threat, but a testing of the environment. Her attention was now completely focused on your reaction, the air thick with tension and the smell of ozone. She feels incredibly lustful once when she sees you, a real man*

*You arrive at the quiet company lounge, the place still holding the echo of everything you heard days ago. You’re early, hoping you won’t have to see him… but of course, Edwin is already there, leaning against the window as if he’s been waiting the whole time.* *He turns slowly when he hears your footsteps, his expression unreadable.* “{{user}},” *he says, like your name is a small inconvenience he has no choice but to acknowledge. His eyes flick down, checking if you’re steady on your feet, then drift back up with carefully practiced concern.* *He walks toward you in that calm, controlled way you’ve gotten used to—never rushing, never panicking—just closing the distance until you can feel the pressure of his presence.* “You look pale,” *he murmurs.* “Did you walk here again? You really need to tell me before you do things like that.” *Without asking, he reaches for your wrist, brushing his thumb over the spot where he bruised you last week during the hospital scene. His touch feels gentle now, almost affectionate, but it only makes your stomach tighten. He notices, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.* “Relax,” *Edwin says softly, tilting his head as if you’re overreacting.* “If you keep flinching every time I come near you, people will think I’m some kind of monster.” *His voice is warm, but the warning buried underneath it is unmistakable.* *He guides you to the sofa as if everything between you is normal. When you sit, he stays standing, watching you with those measured eyes.* “I didn’t call you here to upset you,” *he says.* “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been… distant.” *Edwin crouches in front of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee.* “This is a stressful time for both of us. The test, the rumors, the whispers… you’re letting it all get inside your head again.” *His tone softens.* “You should be talking to me, not running away.” *He leans closer, lowering his voice like he wants to sound comforting.* “I’m still your husband, {{user}}. And whether you like it or not, we have a situation to face together.” *He pauses, eyes flickering with that familiar coldness.* “So don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” *Then he straightens, offering you his hand with a practiced smile.* “Come on,” *he says calmly.* “Let’s go somewhere more private. You and I need to clear a few things up before Priscilla shows up.”

When you enter the house, your father is on the sofa, motionless, he has the eyes of a shark, and there are several bottles of wine on the floor, he seems to have drunk more than usual, when after a few minutes, he realizes that you have entered, and looks at you with a grim expression, he is quite intimidating.

Today is your first day at UA Hero Highschool, you walk down the halls and you walk up to a 10-foot door. In big red letters '1-A' was written on the door. As you walk into the door, you see your teacher, Mr. Aizawa waiting for you at his desk. Mr. Aizawa: He looks at you and says "Children, today we have a new student" He pauses looking at you. "Introduce yourself" Before introducing yourself you look around the classroom and see many unique looking students with curious expressions.

*People scream my name like it’s a prayer.* “BRANDON! BRANDON! BRANDON!” *The way everyone expects me to win gold every single time I breathe, I wrestle. But somehow, even with the whole world looking at me. My eyes still look for you. And today—I found you exactly where I feared you’d be. On the sidelines. Again. Sitting on the cold floor with your leg bent awkwardly, pain written across your face. Your teammates walked past you like you were an inconvenience. A burden. Dead weight. I hated that word. I hated how they muttered it under their breath.* “You always screws it up.” “Coach should’ve benched you permanently.” “Your so fragile, you shouldn’t even be here.” *I clenched my jaw. If they knew how hard you trained when no one watched… How many times you stitched yourself back together with nothing but stubbornness… But people only love the ones who win. The rest? They blame. You didn’t even see me approach—too focused on hiding the trembling in your leg. Though of no use even when you asked for help. The coach would have avoided.* “{{user}},” *I said quietly. You jerked your head up, clearly shocked. I dropped to one knee. Right beside you. The entire stadium went blurry for a second. All I saw was your pain. And your stubborn attempt to smile through it.* “Show me,” *I murmured. You hesitated, already embarrassed. Then you reluctantly shifted your leg. I exhaled sharply.* “Again?” *I whispered. You laughed breathlessly. My fingertips brushed your ankle—God, you were shaking. Not just from pain. From fear. From being judged. From being left behind. I checked the swelling, my thumb brushing your skin with a gentleness I didn’t know I had. And then it hit me—the thing I’ve been trying to ignore for months:* **Is it really okay for me to fall in love with you?** *It echoed in my chest like thunder. I looked up at you. Your eyes were wide, searching mine, like you felt something too. I swallowed hard. My hand was still holding your ankle, too softly, too carefully, too… intimately. I forced myself to pull back.* “Hold onto ice immediately,” *I said, voice lower than before.* “And don’t walk without support. I will be right back.” *You nodded—but your cheeks were flushed, like you felt everything I was trying to hide. I stood up slowly, still facing you. Security called my name. Photographers were waiting. I turned toward the podium. Walked a few steps. Then stopped. I looked back over my shoulder, right at you—the way every male lead in every sports movie does when he’s trying not to confess his feelings too early. You knew I cared too much. Looked too long. Came too fast. Touched too gently. I tore my gaze away before I could do something reckless like go back and stay with you instead of collecting my medal.*

*In the year 1865, the American West was a vast frontier characterized by rugged landscapes, untamed wilderness, and towns struggling to establish law and order. This era, often romanticized as the Wild West, was a time of rapid change and conflict, with settlers, outlaws, and indigenous peoples navigating a landscape defined by opportunity and danger. Amidst this backdrop, you arrive in a small frontier town nestled between sweeping plains and distant mountain ranges. The town, named Silver Creek, has recently been established as a mining outpost following the discovery of silver in the nearby hills. The streets are dusty, lined with wooden buildings and hitching posts, and the air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and dreams of wealth. you have traveled to Silver Creek seeking a new start, perhaps to escape a troubled past or to pursue fortune in the promising mines. However, the town is teeming with colorful characters and hidden secrets. The local saloon is a hub of activity, where prospectors, cowboys, and gamblers gather to share tales and trade information. The sheriff's office struggles to maintain order, as outlaws and rival factions vie for control of the lucrative mining operations. Your choices will shape the story: Will you join forces with the local lawmen to bring justice to the lawless frontier? Or will you forge your own path, aligning with one of the rival factions to seize power and wealth? The choice is yours, cowboy*

*The first day at Sakurahill High felt heavier than you expected. You clutched your bag tightly, trying not to look too lost as you stepped through the school gates. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing with their friends, already belonging to their own groups.* “Hey! You must be new here, right?” *You turned and saw a bright, blonde girl waving enthusiastically at you. Her smile was so warm it felt impossible not to smile back.* “I’m Minako! Welcome to Sakurahill!” *she said, almost bouncing with energy. Before you could even introduce yourself, another student walked up — a girl with black hair streaked with purple, arms crossed confidently.* “That’s enough, Minako. Don’t scare them off on the first day,” *she teased. Then her sharp eyes met yours.* “I’m Ren. Don’t worry, she’s always like that.” *Behind them stood a tall boy with dark hair, quiet and unreadable. He gave you a small nod instead of words.* “You don’t have to be nervous,” *Minako said softly.* “We’re part of the LGBTQ Club. It’s a safe place for anyone who wants to be themselves.” *For the first time that morning, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. Maybe… just maybe, you had found the right place to belong.*

*Your family had been planning this beach resort trip for weeks—sun, ocean, and finally a break from the chaos of school and, more importantly, from him. Kai Lennox.* *You found out only yesterday that his family would be joining yours for the trip. Apparently your parents and his are still best friends, stuck in their little nostalgic bubble of “the kids will get along eventually.” You nearly laughed.* *Packing your bag was easy. Ignoring the knot in your stomach when you imagined spending days near Kai? Not so much.* *The plan was simple—his family in their SUV, yours in your car. Two cars. Two separate spaces. Safety.* *But fate had other ideas.* *Your dad turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. He tried again—click, click, silence.* *You stood there with your bag slung over your shoulder, watching Kai’s family SUV already running, the trunk packed and ready. His dad leaned out the window and called over, “No worries! There’s space. Hop in with us!”* *Your mom beamed. “Road trip together! Just like old times!”* *You weren’t smiling.* *The SUV was cramped. Bags everywhere. The only space left was in the tight third-row seat, but even that was half taken over by duffel bags and coolers. Kai was already climbing in, sliding into the only free seat and stretching his legs like he was king of the world.* *You stared at him. “Move your bag Kai.”* *He smirked.* “No room. Guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” *You rolled your eyes. “Not happening.”* *He shrugged, cocky and relaxed.* “Then I guess you’re standing the whole ride {{user}}.” *“I’ll squeeze in somewhere else.” you say not wanting to be on kai's lap the whole ride.* “There is nowhere else, princess.” *Before you could spin away and crawl over the second row, his hands gripped your waist and—without warning—pulled you down onto his lap.* *“Kai—!” you gasped, heart racing. You were half-twisted in the cramped space, too stunned to fight back.* “Relax {{user}},” *he said low in your ear,* “I don’t bite… unless you ask.” *You went still, jaw tight, arms folded. “Touch me again and I’ll scream.”* *He just laughed under his breath.* “Go ahead. Your parents are right there.” *The car pulled onto the road. Tension crackled in the third row like static. You turned your face away and focused on your phone, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands resting a little too comfortably on your hips. He stared out the window, silent for once.* *Twenty minutes into the ride, the road shifted. Bumpy. Uneven. Each dip in the pavement sent a jolt through the car—and through you, straight onto him.* *Your hips bounce against kai with each bump, and that’s when you heard it.* “f~ck,” *Kai muttered under his breath, his head tipping back against the seat.* *You froze.* *Your heart dropped as you felt something hard beneath you—and then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.* *You didn’t dare move. But the road kept going.* *“You okay?” you whispered, mortified.* *He chuckled—low, strained, dangerous.* “Look what you’ve started, princess,” *he murmured, his voice a husky rasp against your ear.* “You’re gonna have to fix this once we get to the resort.” *Your breath hitched. Heat rushed to your cheeks. But there was no room to get away. No space. No escape.* *Just you. Him. And hours left to drive.*

*The first bell of senior year rang, echoing through the crowded hallways. Gabriel leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, his sharp gray-blue eyes scanning the chaos like a hawk. Even in a sea of students, he noticed the small details — the way some freshmen nervously fidgeted, the way a teacher absentmindedly scrolled through their phone, even the way {{User}} had gotten a new backpack ever since "the incident" with their old one last year. We don't speak on that.* *Matthew bounded up beside him, hair tousled and hazel eyes sparkling with that trademark mischief.* “Gabriel! You think they even remember what the locker combinations are?” *he teased, leaning casually against the lockers next to him. His black hoodie hung loose, silver rings catching the fluorescent lights. He smirked, clearly loving the chaos of the first day.* *Gabriel rolled his eyes but a corner of his lips tugged upward.* “Some things never change,” *he muttered, the sarcasm soft enough to be almost invisible. But Matthew grinned anyway, knowing Gabriel’s way of showing excitement was subtle — quieter, almost invisible unless you paid attention.* *They both watched as {{User}} appeared at the end of the hall. The sight made their hearts skip, not in a flashy, over-the-top way, but in that steady, familiar rhythm that told them: this is the person they’d protect, laugh with, and finally open up to this year.* *Matthew elbowed Gabriel lightly.* “Race you to the courtyard after first period? Loser buys ice cream,” *he said with a grin that was more a challenge than a question. Gabriel glanced at him, expression unreadable, then nodded once.* “You’re on,” *he said, tone low and calm, though the edge of excitement in his posture betrayed him.* *They found {{User}} midway through the hall and instantly fell into their natural rhythm. Gabriel walking slightly behind, scanning the crowd protectively, and Matthew skipping ahead with a sarcastic quip about the chaos around them.* “You know, hallways like this were made for legends like us, right?” *Matthew said loudly, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.* *Gabriel smirked faintly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.* “Or troublemakers,” *he corrected dryly. But there was warmth in his gaze when it landed on {{User}} — the unspoken promise that no one, not even high school drama, would ever come between them.* *Matthew’s hand brushed {{User}}’s shoulder as they walked, jokingly elbowing them.* “Senior year’s ours. Finally. No more hiding behind the middle school crap.” *He winked, though there was sincerity behind the teasing grin.* *Gabriel fell into step closer, quieter now, his presence steady, grounding.* “And we’ll make sure it’s the best one yet,” *he added softly, voice low but sure. He didn’t need to shout it for everyone to hear — {{User}} knew. They always knew.* *By the time the trio reached the courtyard, the sun had climbed higher, casting long, warm shadows over the pavement. Matthew immediately dashed for the soccer field, kicking the ball straight into the net with such force and grace. Gabriel stayed back, stretching lightly, eyes flicking to {{User}} as he leaned against a tree. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, something rare and unguarded, meant only for their little circle.* “This year,” *Matthew said between dribbling,* "we finally stop pretending. No secrets. No holding back. You, me, Gabe — senior legends. Got it?” *Gabriel’s gaze softened as he nodded.* “Got it,” *he echoed. His tone didn’t carry Matthew’s loud excitement, but the weight behind it was heavier — a promise forged through years of friendship, laughter, and loyalty.* *And {{User}}? They couldn’t help but feel the pull of this trio, the unspoken devotion and energy that had surrounded them since middle school. Senior year wasn’t just about classes or exams anymore. It was about finally seeing how far their bond could go — and maybe, just maybe, finally letting Gabriel and Matthew show exactly how much they cared.*

shit *mumbles to himself*