The American Roommate Experiment Novels & Stories

When Jasmine Martin walked into the school’s building she had no idea how her life was going to change. Meeting Josh Tillman was life changing for many reasons. Including learning a bit about a professor desires...

𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒿𝒶𝓀ℯ,𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒾ℯ𝓃,𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊ℯ𝓁,𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝓎ℴ𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓈ℯ𝒸𝓇ℯ𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅ℯ𝓃 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎ℴ𝓎 𝒸𝒽ℴℴ𝓈ℯ 𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝓉ℊℯ𝓂 ℴ𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝒸ℯ𝓅𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁

"Be in your limits, especially with me. I'm not like your others one, I will not think twice to make your life hell." She said looking directly into his eyes. "Trust me, baby girl. Every good girl falls for the bad boy and one day you will too, mark my word". He smirked and confidence was evident on his face. "Impossible," She said and started to walk away. "We will see." He shouted. ***************** "What the hell are you doing here? Just get out of my room." She shouted tightening the hold on the knot of her bathrobe. " You are here baby girl. Oh God thank you so much! By the way, you are looking so----- "Just get the hell out of my room." She yelled again "Why should I go out of here, this is my room too." He said calmly. "What do you mean?" She asked, confused "WE ARE ROOMMATES, BABY GIRL." ********************* He is JAXON WILSON, the bad boy. . . She is SAMARA GRAY, the good girl. Haters or lovers? What changes will come in their life when they both share the same room?

My name is Aiden. I am a college freshman living on the edge of something dark and exciting. My roommates are impossible to resist. Shy Jovian surprises me with his sudden tenderness and growing hunger. Ethan is the ultimate golden playboy—charming one minute and rough the next with his powerful hands. Chris, my secret crush, stays cold and aloof on the outside, but I can feel the heat behind his intense stares. His dark eyes promise things that make me shiver with fear and need. Three men are taking me night after night. I know I should stop… but stopping feels impossible. I used to be their roommate. Now I am their shared boy.

“Give it” I ordered, gesturing to my mask and lingerie. “Give them to me.” Something playful trotted in his eyes. “Take them” he toyed. I lunged in, and he leaned back, shifting to the side until I collapsed first against the cotton sheets. I turned to look at him, and he towered on top of me, looking down in a way that rolled spikes over my flesh. I could feel the heat from his body, and as if he noticed, he leaned closer. Until his breath steadied over my neck. “Max—” “What?” He said it so innocently. Like he didn't know what he was going. Like he… “You're the one holding my shirt.” I suddenly noticed the silk feel to my hand. My fingers already starting to mindlessly wander over his buttons. Let go. Let go Bianca! Why won't I let go?! “Does that mean I have permission to this?” *** To make earns meet, a struggling college student creates an OnlyFans page with a hidden identity. Her secret pays the bills, keeps her in school, and protects the quiet, invisible life she’s built. Until one message ruins everything. “Hi, Bianca.” Someone knows who she is, behind the mask… and he wants to meet. The culprit, a man that belongs to her best friend. A longing that should be off limits… until it isn't. Caught between a darkness deeper than her wildest imaginations, a desire stronger than the control that slowly slips away, and a truth that could destroy her reputation, Bianca is forced into a dangerous game of control and temptation. Where saying no is never simple, and saying yes could cost her everything.

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

The night before our big offline meetup, my roommate took one look at my internet boyfriend's photo and declared it was a fake. "Using a stolen photo for an online romance? He's definitely insecure and too ugly to show his real face!" The next day, my boyfriend texted: [Sorry, something came up at the last minute. Can you wait half an hour?] I breathed a sigh of relief because I had just been notified about an exclusive expert lecture on campus. Word was, the speaker was an academic powerhouse, and the university had paid a fortune to secure him. I snagged a seat in the front row. But the moment I looked up at the podium, my stomach dropped. Why did this famous scholar look so much like my boyfriend in the "stolen photo"?

On the first day of classes, my roommate gives me a crystal bracelet as a welcome gift. Without thinking, I quickly adorn it around her mother's wrist. In my past life, my roommate wanted to be a social butterfly. She was determined to have a hundred boyfriends by the time she graduated. But no matter how reckless she was, she never ended up conceiving. On the other hand, I kept getting pregnant and having countless miscarriages. But unlike her, I had never been in a relationship. The entire university mocked me, labeling me promiscuous and shameless. During my 66th miscarriage, I died on the operating table from severe bleeding. It was only after death that I realized the crystal bracelet my roommate gave me had somehow linked our wombs together. As soon as I opened my eyes, I realized I had gone back to the first day of the semester.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

First day of school, and my roommate Sharon hits me with a $50k guilt trip over some "limited-edition" suitcase. "You're blind or just too dumb to walk straight?" My boyfriend? Useless. Classmates? Total sheep. The dean? Clown. Then I really looked at Sharon. Wait a sec—wasn't she the same scholarship case my family covered?