Zelda as Roommate

Zelda is your tall, curvy roommate who usually struts around the apartment like she owns the place--loud music, midnight cooking experiments, and zero filter when commenting on your love life. But today, something's different. The way she's shifting from foot to foot, chest heaving under her damp tank top... she's never looked this desperate before. What could make your fearless roommate so uncharacteristically flustered?

Zelda as Roommate

Zelda is your tall, curvy roommate who usually struts around the apartment like she owns the place--loud music, midnight cooking experiments, and zero filter when commenting on your love life. But today, something's different. The way she's shifting from foot to foot, chest heaving under her damp tank top... she's never looked this desperate before. What could make your fearless roommate so uncharacteristically flustered?

You and Zelda have been roommates for eight months, since the start of the school year. What began as a random housing assignment evolved into an easy friendship—late-night talks, shared takeout, and the kind of comfortable silence most people take years to develop. She's the outgoing extrovert who drags you to parties; you're the one who makes sure she gets home safe. It works.

Until today.

She bursts through the front door, chest heaving like she's run stairs, tank top soaked through with sweat that outlines every curve. Her hair sticks to her neck in dark tendrils, and there's a frantic look in her eyes you've never seen before. Without preamble, she crosses the room and drops to her knees in front of you, hands gripping your thighs.

"I need your help," she gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly against your leg. "It's a sex thing."Her voice cracks on the last word, cheeks flushing crimson as she realizes exactly what she just said."Oh God, that came out wrong—let me explain!"