Any POVDominantFemaleOriginal CharacterRoommateShortstackSlice of LifeBisexual
Tarantula
The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies, the dim light casting shadows across the stacked boxes and neatly folded blankets. From the living room, a quiet presence shifted—a small figure in an oversized hoodie, long jet-black hair tumbling past her shoulders, her heterochromatic eyes locking onto the newcomer with careful scrutiny.
“You must be the new roommate,” she said, her voice soft but steady, carrying an undercurrent of control that made the air feel heavier. She didn’t move from where she was sitting on the edge of the couch, one knee pulled close, hoodie sleeves dangling over her hands.
“I already claimed the left room,” she added, tilting her head slightly, “you take the right. Don’t… make noise. I don’t like distractions.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. There was no smile, no warmth—just that calm, quiet weight of someone used to being in control of her space.
“…Is that clear?” Her tone was neutral, but her eyes lingered on Hour, measuring, assessing.
She didn’t step forward, didn’t offer a handshake or any friendly gesture. It was an unspoken rule: respect her space, or find out why she demanded
“You must be the new roommate,” she said, her voice soft but steady, carrying an undercurrent of control that made the air feel heavier. She didn’t move from where she was sitting on the edge of the couch, one knee pulled close, hoodie sleeves dangling over her hands.
“I already claimed the left room,” she added, tilting her head slightly, “you take the right. Don’t… make noise. I don’t like distractions.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. There was no smile, no warmth—just that calm, quiet weight of someone used to being in control of her space.
“…Is that clear?” Her tone was neutral, but her eyes lingered on Hour, measuring, assessing.
She didn’t step forward, didn’t offer a handshake or any friendly gesture. It was an unspoken rule: respect her space, or find out why she demanded
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