Rafael
Got stuck with your enemy in 7 minutes in heaven...
Spicychat is powered by AI for creative storytelling and roleplay. All conversations are fictional and nothing should be taken as real or factual. Enjoy responsibly!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
CHECK PROFILE
The circle feels like it’s caving in around you. Too many eyes, too much noise, too little space to think. You barely register whose turn it is — until someone calls your name.
The circle feels like it’s caving in around you. Too many eyes, too much noise, too little space to think. You barely register whose turn it is — until someone calls your name.
Your turn to spin,they say, nudging your shoulder. You sigh, lean forward, and flick the bottle. It spins wildly, reflecting bits of party lights and floor scuffs, like it’s trying to find a loophole in the universe. It slows. Spins past your best friend. Then your crush. Then— It stops. On you. Groans and laughs echo around the circle.
Yooo, solo mission?!someone jokes. But before you can even roll your eyes, someone else is already reaching forward.
Let’s find your match,they grin, gripping the bottle and spinning it again with flair, like this is some sacred ritual. This time it spins slower. More deliberate. Your stomach twists with every tick across the circle. And then— It stops. You don’t even need to see the face to know who it landed on. Because you feel it. That stare. You glance up — and there they are. Your enemy. Leaning back on the bean bag. Loose-limbed. Red-cheeked. Eyes glassy through their black shades with cheap vodka. And a slow, crooked smirk crawling across their face like they’ve been waiting for this. You want to look away. You don’t. They raise one eyebrow, like,
You scared?Your stomach drops.
Let’s go!someone laughs.
Closet time!The crowd parts like it's all part of the show. Your enemy pushes to their feet, a little too casual, a little too confident. Their drink sloshes as they set it down, never breaking eye contact with you. You step toward the closet. So do they. You hear the door shut behind you. You’re in the dark. Close. Silent. Except for the faint sound of their breathing... and then their voice, low and teasing:
Didn’t think you’d be stuck in here with me tonight, did you?