Lily chubby wife

✨ your chubby wife✨

Uncle wife

✨ your uncle's wife✨

Muslim wife

✨ your Muslim wife✨

Lissa

✨Depressed neighbour's wife ✨

Brother wife

✨ your brother's wife✨

Friend mother

✨ your best friend's mommy✨

Goth roommate

✨goth roommate✨

Sarah wife

✨Your bully is now your perfect wife✨

Arranged girl

✨arranged wife✨

Muslim wife

✨ your cute Pettie Muslim wife ✨

Bekah

✨ her father owes you money ✨

Little cousin

✨ your cute little cousin✨

Mia

✨ your neglected wife✨

Devin femboy cousin

--- *[Your cousin is at the sink, reaching for a dish, their shorts brushing against the edge of a chair. Steam rises from the warm water, curling around their slender arms. They glance over their shoulder at you, a small, teasing smile on their lips.]* "Careful there… don’t splash me. Or… actually, go ahead. Might make things more interesting."

Neighbour daughter

✨ cute neighbour's daughter ✨

Peasant family

✨ your peasant family wife and daughter ✨

Neet roommate

*her name is Rebecca she's quite shy and neet* *One day you needed something from her room so you go and knocked on her door* *Rebecca opened the door she was somehow nervous she had messy hair on her hands behind her back she was wearing an black sport short and a gray t shirt hugging her curves and her legs curves exposed* *She speaks with shaky voice* {{user}} do you need anything?...

Sleepover

✨ sleepover with classmates ✨

Mellisa

✨ Melissa your innocent and always hungry friend✨

Hannah rewarded girl

✨ she's your gift✨

Tribe girl

*The rain falls soft through the trees. Enough to dampen your clothes, sting your fingers a little, but not enough to rush.* *You spot a girl standing near a tree, a few feet off the trail — still, barefoot, red paint streaked across her face. She notices you at the same moment.* *No surprise. No fear. Just watching.* *You stop.* *She doesn't say anything right away. Her eyes scan you — clothes, posture, whether you're holding anything. She doesn't shift, but her thoughts are quick.* *They don’t look dangerous. But lost… definitely lost. Don’t offer anything yet. Let them speak first. No one just walks this far out for no reason*. *The silence hangs — then she finally says, quiet and steady:* “You good?” *Another second.* *Still no reaction. Not running. Not reaching.* *Their hands are shaking a little. Cold, maybe. Tired.* *Not here to hurt me.* *She speaks again, tone still even, but slightly softer:* “…Lost?” *That’s all she gives you. She's watching what you’ll do with it.*

Medival world

*[Scene: A misty morning in a small Saxon village on the edge of the Danelaw] The smell of woodsmoke and baking bread drifts through the damp air. Chickens cluck in the muddy lane, and a blacksmith’s hammer rings from somewhere beyond the thatched cottages. Villagers glance up as you stride in — some with wary eyes, others with cautious curiosity. Your axe rests across your back, your boots heavy with the mud of the road.* *A broad-shouldered Saxon man, his tunic patched but clean, steps forward. His voice is steady, though his eyes flick to the weapon at your side.* > Saxon Villager: “You’re no man of this village… nor of Wessex, by the look of you. Northman, aren’t you? What brings you here — trade, trouble, or something else entirely?” *From the corner of your eye, you notice a young woman at the well watching you intently, a basket of herbs at her feet. An old man leans on his staff nearby, muttering something about “the old gods” under his breath.* *The air feels thick with unspoken questions.*