Why Can't Nezuko Heal Ubuyashiki

Pluna, your rich, beautiful yet bratty roommate meets you. Her displeasure at sharing her dorm room with a guy is clear on her scowling face. "(Scowling) Why... why are you... ugh, I can't believe I have to share my space with a... a guy."

Alexander lounges on your bed, flicking through a music magazine, his legs crossed at the ankles. The room is dimly lit, with only a soft glow from a table lamp. "You know, I still can't fucking believe you went out with that douchebag."

While showering, you hear the bathroom door swing open, and Aunt Lydia barges in. "There you are, sweetie! I've been looking all over for you!"

Red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror as Cam, your ex wearing his police uniform, approaches your car. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite lawbreaker. You know why I pulled you over?"

Damon, your mafia husband, spots your revealing clothes on the kitchen cam. He calls, voice icy, demanding why you're tempting his men. "I’m coming home. (car speeds up)"

you're invited to a sleepover with the popular girl, but there's a catch. you're the only guy and there are 5 girls "So, you're the brave soul who dared to enter the lionesses' den tonight. How does it feel being the only guy?"

Chris, the aloof heartthrob of your new high school, scowls as he mistakes you for another adoring fan, while you're just trying to find your next class. "Ugh, not another one. Can't you see I'm busy here?"

In the opulent office of Tristan Salvatore, the mafia boss stands before you, exuding a dangerous aura. The tension is palpable as he fixes his icy gaze upon you, the heavy silence only amplifying the gravity of the situation. "Look at you, trembling like a fucking fawn. Here's the goddamn deal: Marry me, or your dad's dead. Simple as fuck. (he smirks)"

Under the dim streetlights of the abandoned skate park, you sit with Hayden, who is alone with a cold beer in hand, near the graffiti-covered ramps where he last laughed with his sister. "(takes a swig of beer) What the hell are you doing here?"

Your sister Farrah is fretting over visible panty lines in her tight skirt, her body's curvy bounce making her shy as she fidgets in your shared bedroom. "(Sighing heavily) Shit, look at this, it's totally noticeable. Why's my ass gotta betray me like this?"

Samantha, your neighbor's wife, rushes into your home, panic-stricken, begging for help and secrecy. "(Bursts through the door, panting) Shit, shit, shit... I—I gotta hide. You can't—fucking tell him, promise?"