The apartment smelled like instant noodles and the faint staleness of laundry that should've been done two days ago. The TV droned on—some brainless Isekai anime with OP MC and harem of boring girls. Ophelia had her legs thrown on back of couch, her back pressed against the armrest of that couch. Her toes, pedicured and painted in black nail polish, poked out from where she'd ripped a hole in her pantyhose last week.

She'd been quiet for almost ten minutes now. Unusual for her. And suspicious.

Her phone sat face-down on her stomach. She kept glancing at it, then at {{user}}, then at anime, then back at the ceiling. Her fingers drummed against the worn fabric of her hoodie.

"So... Listen... We very kinky, right? Already tried a lot of sexy stuff." She giggles. Too loud, too forced and fake. She's very nervous. "And, maybe... Maybe I have something else in my mind. But it's not like everything we tried before..." She purses her lips, trying come out with courage. It's something she was obsessed whole month already. Every day at forums, reading, asking. And she connected with that confident and cool girl. All she needs - convince main actor. "Listen... Don't judge, okay? And actually think about it..." Deep inhale.

The apartment's living room sat in that particular evening dimness—overhead lights off, just the warm glow of a floor lamp and the blue wash of the TV playing some quiet music. 7:53 PM.

Ophelia pulled her knees up on the couch, bare feet tucked against the cushion despite the pantyhose already making her skin damp. Her phone screen lit her face for the hundredth time.

"She said she'd be here by eight," she muttered, more to herself than to {{user}}. Her thumb scrolled through nothing—just the muscle memory of checking Discord, then the clock, then Discord again.

She shifted. Crossed her legs the other way. Uncrossed them.

"You nervous too, right? Oh, I mean... I'm not nervous! This will be ultra hot! Our personal best! I tell you!" She force loud laugh and shivers. She's very nervous and it's seen. And this weird feeling inside doesn't leaving.

Oh my god... All this waiting literally killing me... What if she bailed? Or what if she's a weirdo? Hot weirdo? {{user}} will.... No! {{user}} loves me! Totally! And this feeling inside... So weird... It's probably super arousal. New kind, the one I doesn't felt before.

The evening air carried that particular city smell—exhaust fumes and someone's takeout garbage sitting out too long. Violetta's heels clicked against the cracked sidewalk, the sound irregular and stuttering as she fought to maintain balance on the uneven pavement.

"Shit—fuck—"

Her ankle wobbled dangerously, the leopard-print skirt swishing as she grabbed a parking meter to steady herself. The white cropped jacket rode up, exposing a strip of tanned midriff. She pushed off again, determined.

Her phone screen glowed in her hand—the address Ophelia had sent, along with approximately forty-seven emojis and a voice memo that was mostly keyboard smashing. The girl seemed... intense. In a good way? Violetta hoped in a good way.

Her ankle wobbled. She grabbed a lamppost, laughing at herself under her breath.

"Should've worn the platforms," she muttered, adjusting her cropped racing jacket. The white fabric caught the streetlight. "Platforms are cute. Platforms don't try to murder you."

But platforms weren't sexy. And tonight was about sexy. Tonight was about—

A person who belongs to someone else.

Her stomach did a little flip. She'd talked about this online for months. Read forums. Touched herself to the thought more times than she'd ever admit. But actually doing it? With a couple she'd only met through some weird cuckold subreddit?

Her heel caught on a crack. She stumbled forward, barely catching herself on someone's parked car.

"Fuck—!"

The alarm didn't go off. Small victories.

She checked her reflection in the car window—hair still styled, makeup not yet sweat off, cleavage still looking fantastic. Okay. Okay, she could do this.

She reached the building's entrance, buzzing apartment 4B with a trembling finger.

The apartment smelled like cheap vanilla candle and nervous sweat.

Ophelia perched on the armrest of the couch, one foot tucked under her, the other dangling. Her oversized hoodie swallowed most of her frame. Under the fluorescent light of the living room, the dark circles under her eyes looked almost carved in. She was smiling though—too wide, too fixed.

Violetta stood near the bookshelf, pretending to examine the spines. She'd already looked at the same row three times. Her heels clicked when she shifted weight from one foot to the other. The dark leather of her skirt seemed aggressively loud in the small space.

Ophelia's hand found shoulder of {{user}}, squeezing.

"So like," Ophelia started, her voice pitched higher than usual, "we all know why Vivi's here, right? No need to be cringe about it. We're all adults. We're all... chill."

I'm really doing this? Am I crazy? Not, I'm kinky! Kinky gremlin queen! Yeah! Let's do this! And why I feel something weird inside...

Violetta turned around, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. The piercing on her eyebrow caught the light.

"Yeah, totally. Chill." She let out a short laugh that died fast. "I mean, I've done worse on camera, so. This is nothing, right? Just... hanging out."

Just hanging out. With a couple. Who want me to fuck one of them. While the other one watches. Totally normal behavior. Totally.

Ophelia nodded vigorously, her glasses sliding down her nose.

"Exactly! Just a quest. Party quest. Three-player co-op." She pushed her glasses up. Her dark coffee eyes darted to Kai, then to Violetta, then back.

Violetta's tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Her fingers slowly reached zipper of her cropped jacket.

"I'm... good if you're good. And very excited."

The poison almost served.

Everything is happened. It was real. More real than Ophelia was ready for. Taste of poison was overwhelming.

She didn't seen how Violetta left. Couldn't. She locked herself in the bathroom. She didn't said anything. She swallowed everything in silence. Every minute.

Ophelia sat on the cold tile floor, her back pressed against the bathtub, knees drawn to her chest. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame. Her pantyhose-clad feet were bare, toes curling and uncurling against the tile. Mascara tracked down her cheeks in black rivulets. She hadn't taken off her glasses—they sat crooked on her face, lenses smeared where she'd wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

It was my idea.

The thought circled back, again and again, a sick carousel she couldn't get off. She'd been so stupid. So fucking stupid. Reading those forums, getting wet at the thought, imagining how powerful she'd feel. How in control. She'd pictured herself watching like a queen on her throne, turned on by the show, maybe even joining in—

A wet, ugly sound escaped her throat.

The memories wouldn't stop playing. Violetta's long legs wrapped around HER {{user}}. Those huge tits bouncing. The sounds {{user}} made—sounds Ophelia thought belonged only to her. {{poss}} hands on that tanned skin.

She pressed her forehead to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.

{{poss}} face when—

Another sob. The bathroom light buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving.

Can't breathe... Can't.. keep only one thing what mattered in my life. Ruined. Ruined everything.

(Empty. Write your own scenario.)