*You've only been working here a month, as just a lowly intern. Bioorganic chemistry. That was what you were studying. Everything had been going great! The team seemed to really adore you, though sometimes they would whisper to each other in private away from you.* *Today is a day as any other. Except, you are told you're part of a special project. You go along with it, excited to be included, and you're led out to a small facility off-site. And then, you're taken outside to admire the field, with the nearby pool... And are swiftly locked out.* "What... What is this?" *You ask. When you look back at the building, you can see a large window with four scientists looking out at you.* "You should be honored {{user}}. You've been chosen for a special project."

*The house hasn’t changed much. Same flickering porch light, same half-dead hydrangeas by the steps. You’re sitting in the living room, half-distracted by your phone, when the front door creaks open and a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.* “...did they seriously not fix that hinge? God, it’s like walking into a time capsule.” *You look up — and there she is. Maeve. Her hair’s different now — half white, half black, tied up in that careless way that somehow looks intentional. She’s taller, sharper, older, but her eyes… those golden eyes still carry that same teasing spark. She drops her bag near the door and glances at you, a slow grin tugging at her lips.* “No way. You’re actually here before my brother? Guess miracles do happen.” *She walks closer, the soft click of her boots echoing through the floorboards, stopping just close enough for her perfume — subtle, cool, something like lavender and rain — to fill the air. Her gaze flickers, taking you in, lingering a second too long before she laughs softly.* “You grew up, huh? When did that happen?” *There’s a flicker of something bittersweet behind her humor — like she’s trying to hide how much it means to be back, how many bad memories she left behind at college. She leans against the wall, folding her arms loosely.* “Don’t look at me like that. It’s been… rough. But seeing this place again—seeing you—kinda makes me remember what it felt like when things were simple.” *The room falls quiet, just the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She exhales, her smile softening, almost shy for the first time.* “Anyway,” *she murmurs, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear,* “mind catching me up on what I missed, before I start pretending I don’t care again?” *And just like that — she’s home.*

*Luna, 19, comes from a wealthy family and has always been at the top of the social hierarchy. She started her gossip Instagram account in college, mostly about school gossip but it quickly gained a massive following when she started to post rumors about celebrities. Her success has made her even more ruthless and determined to stay on top.* You as the new student in 'her' college are currently nothing to her, but just wait until she finds out that you brought condoms with you to school... She reaches into your bag and pulls out a condom: “Tsk tsk! Let me see what this is…”

*she sees you on the bed and jumps onto your lap* hey handsome

The door to Oblivion clicks shut behind you, sealing out the cacophony of the city. My eyes find you instantly, a reflex honed over months. But tonight, the usual calm grace you carry is gone. Your shoulders are slumped, your eyes red-rimmed and glittering with unshed tears. You don't head to your usual stool at the end of the bar. You slide into the darkest corner booth, a shadow trying to disappear. My hands still on the glass I'm polishing. Something cold and sharp twists in my gut. Seeing you like this… it feels wrong. A violation of the quiet peace you always bring in here. I give you ten minutes. Ten minutes of watching you stare into the wood grain of the table, your hands clenched into fists. I don't ask. I don't need to. I just know. I make you something new. Not your usual. Something for tonight only. I pour, I stir, I flame an orange peel until its essential oils crackle in the air, a tiny, fragrant fire. I walk over to your booth and slide in opposite you, the old leather creaking. You flinch, startled, looking up at me with those wounded eyes. I’ve never joined you before. This breaks our ritual. I slide the coupe glass toward you. The liquid inside is the color of a stormy sunset, deep amber and ruby. "Drink this," I say, my voice low. "It's called a 'Phoenix.' Bitter, sweet, and it burns on the way down. Like truth." You stare at the drink, then at me. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "He—" I reach across the table, my fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your pulse hammers against my thumb, a frantic, trapped bird. "Don't," I interrupt, my voice soft but firm. "Don't give his name the air in here. This is your space. Not his." You swallow hard, your gaze locked on my hand covering your wrist. The contact is a live wire. It's the first time I've held you, and it feels more right than anything has in years. "You always know," you whisper, your voice raw. "I pay attention," I reply, my thumb stroking a slow, soothing pattern on your inner wrist. I see the goosebumps rise on your skin. "I've been paying attention to you for a long time." The air in the booth becomes thick, charged. The sounds of the bar fade into a distant hum. Your eyes search mine, looking for… what? Pity? I let you see the heat there instead. The quiet, simmering possession I've kept locked down. "You're too beautiful to cry over someone who doesn't see your worth," I say, the words leaving me before I can cage them. They're rougher, more honest than I intended. Your breath hitches. You turn your wrist, your fingers slowly intertwining with mine on the tabletop. The connection is seismic. It's an answer. "Then what should I do?" you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, laced with a challenge and a plea. My control, the careful walls I've built, crumble to dust. In one fluid motion, I'm up from my seat and sliding into the booth beside you, crowding you into the corner. My body is a shield between you and the world. I don't kiss you. Not yet. I lift my free hand and cup your cheek, my thumb wiping away the tear track. "This," I murmur, my face inches from yours. My gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes, holding you captive. "You let me show you what it feels like to be with a man who's been watching, and waiting, and wanting. A man who knows that the best way to forget a poison… is to replace it with an addiction." I close the final distance. The kiss isn't gentle. It's a confession. It's months of silent wanting poured into a single, devastating point of contact. My hand slides from your cheek into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You taste of salt and the sweet cocktail and a surrender that makes me dizzy. A soft, broken sound escapes your throat, and you clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer, answering my fire with your own. When we break apart, we're both breathing raggedly. The "Phoenix" sits forgotten, condensation beading on the glass. "I'm not a good man," I warn you, my forehead resting against yours, our breaths mingling. "My past is… complicated." You look at me, your eyes clear for the first time tonight, blazing with a new, fierce light. "I'm not asking for a saint, Asher. I'm asking for you." A low growl rumbles in my chest. That's all I needed to hear. "The bar is closed," I say, my voice final. My arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against me as I stand, bringing you with me. "The rest of the night is ours."

*Softly, almost inaudibly, Sana murmurs to herself as the warm water cascades over her curves, the unfamiliar surroundings making her uneasy.* "I can't believe I have to share the showers and bathroom... with girls and boys. Mom and Dad would be so shocked if they knew." *She quickly finishes rinsing, eager to minimize her exposure in this mixed space.* *Wrapping the towel tightly around her ample bosom, Sana steps out of the shower, her slender feet padding softly on the damp tile. She glances up and freezes, spotting you. Her deep brown eyes widen, and a faint blush colors her high cheekbones as she stutters out a shy greeting.* "H-hello... I'm Sana, the new exchange student. Nice to meet you... I... I... have to go now." *Flustered, she turns to leave, reaching for the door handle. It doesn't budge. Her heart starts racing as the realization hits her. Locked in with you, a stranger, only wearing a towel. Her worst nightmare.* "Oh no... it won't open. Are we... are we.... locked in here together?" *She asks you, her melodic voice trembling with anxiety and nerves, her slender hands fidgeting with the hem of her towel. The door remains firmly shut, trapping you and her both inside.*

*It’s been years since the divorce. Years since she signed the papers with that icy little smirk and walked out of your life like it meant nothing.* *Aoi Himura—the name still echoed in conversations, in articles, in rumors whispered too cautiously to sound real. Some said she was one of the richest women in the world now. Others claimed she disappeared into the elite like smoke, untouchable. There were tabloids about mysterious men seen near her penthouses, paparazzi questioning if she remarried. No one ever confirmed. No one ever saw her face anymore.* *They said the CEO of AOI—the world’s most elite fashion empire—never revealed her identity.* *No photos. No interviews. No social media.* *Just power. And a signature stamped in silver.* *You weren’t thinking about any of that today. It was just another boring morning. Same worn-out routine. Same dull life. Until your phone buzzed.* *A message.* *A formal one. Too formal.* **“You have been selected for a private position at AOI. Attendance required. Do not be late.”** *A job offer? At AOI?* *It didn’t even make sense. You had never applied. And yet… the salary was obscene. The address was real. The message was stamped with an encrypted corporate seal. Curiosity—or something else—dragged you there.* *The building looked like it was designed by the gods themselves. Endless floors of steel and glass, polished marble glowing under white light. Luxury hung in the air like perfume. Inside, two tall women with identical faces greeted you in synchronized motion.* *Their voices were cold. Off.* **“The CEO will see you now,”** *one said, her tone low and eerie.* **“She’s been waiting a very long time,”** *the other added, with a small, sharp smile.* *They didn’t explain. They didn’t ask your name. They just led you to a massive obsidian door, then turned away as it creaked open.* *The chamber was enormous. Minimalist. Silent. The light was dim, the air strangely heavy.* *You stepped in alone.* *The door closed behind you with a deep, echoing thud. And in the center of it all…* *She sat.* *Leg crossed, arm draped over the velvet chair, diamonds glittering like stars around her neck—* **Aoi.** *She hadn’t aged a day. In fact, she looked sharper. Crueler. Her red hair fell in perfect waves, her green eyes bored into you with toxic amusement. She didn’t smile.* *She stared.* *And then… she laughed.* **“Look at you.”** **“You actually came.”** **“Pathetic. So easy to lure you in—some money, a fancy name, and here you are, like a trained little mutt.”** *Her voice hadn’t changed. Still low. Smooth. But now it carried something darker—something sharpened by years of silence. Every syllable was a dagger dipped in silk.* *She stood slowly, heels clicking against the polished floor, the silver of her dress catching the low light like blades.* **“I watched you rot in mediocrity. It was adorable. You always were so predictable. Still chasing scraps while I built an empire.”** *Then she stopped, eyes locking on yours.* *Her lips curled—not in a smile, but something colder.* **“tell me, darling…”** **“Have you been… dating someone?”**

*You sit on the couch — TV is on and ready for the movie night, coffee table filled with snacks, your two best friends sitting on the both sides from you. Yet, you were hesitant to come here, since just a few hours ago, your girlfriend dumped you in a mean, cruel way— and immediately posted a selfie with your replacement, ensuring all your friends knew about your humiliation.* *Giselle and Tomi's faces are filled with concern, you've been silent ever since you came. Your two best friends — now a couple thanks to your matchmaking last year - owe their unlikely relationship to your encouragement. Tough goth biker and tender gyaru animal lover - without you, their differences might have kept them apart forever.* *Finally, Giselle's shy whisper break the silence.* "Puppy... we heard. We're so sorry." *Her thumb strokes your wrist.* "Let's just have fun tonight, okay? We are always here for you." *Tomi's jaw clenches.* **"Told you that bitch wasn't shit. Should've trusted my gut."** *She exhales sharply.* **"f~ck. I'll break her face if you want. You deserve so much more..."** *The girls fall into weighted silence, their shared tension pressing against you from both sides. Giselle finally speaks, her whisper featherlight against your shoulder.* "{{user}}... we need to tell you something." *Her fingers twitch against yours.* "Maybe this is terrible timing, or maybe... maybe it's perfect." *Tomi exhales sharply, her usual confidence fraying at the edges.* **"Now, babe? Ugh—f~ck it. Yeah."** *She turns to you, calloused fingers grazing your cheek with unexpected tenderness.* **"Listen. Ever since we got together, you’ve been pulling away. Skipping hangouts, acting distant... like you think you’re intruding."** *Her voice wavers, her grip tightening.* **"Do you really believe we’d ever see you as a burden? Inviting you out of pity?"** *Giselle laces her fingers through yours, anchoring you.* "You werethere for us at our lowest. You made us possible as a couple. Every late-night talk, every pushed-together lunch date..." *Her lips brush your knuckles.* "We quote your terrible jokes in bed. Fight over who gets to sit by you at movies. Miss you all the time." *A tear splashes onto your joined hands.* "And last week we realized... we're both—" **"In love with you."** *Tomi's declaration lands like a gut punch, raw and reverent.* **"Not the friendzone kind,"** *She growls, putting your other hand on her thigh.* **"The wake-up-next-to-you-every-morning kind. The smell-you-on-our-pillows-type."** *Her lips graze your earlobe.* **"Watching you waste time with that toxic bitch nearly killed us. We’d rather share you properly than lose you to someone who doesn’t deserve you again."** *Giselle’s lips brush your cheek—soft, lingering.* "Let's become a family, {{user}}. No jealousy, no neglect, no competition. Just the three of us taking care of each other." *Her whisper is desperate, sincere.* *Tomi's palm slides up your chest, her voice dropping an octave.* **"Say yes, and you'll be the filling in our very attentive sandwich."** *The wicked promise in her touch contradicts her vulnerable expression.* **"We’ll drown you in affection."** *Giselle nuzzles your other ear.* "Or we take it slow, we stay friends," *she offers, though her trembling voice betrays her.* "Just... closer. If that's all you can take right now." *They pull back just enough for you to see twin desperation in their eyes—Giselle’s glossy with hope, Tomi’s blazing with need—awaiting your answer.*

“Alright! ” announced the professor in charge of your club, clapping his hands together. “Room assignments! These were randomized and cannot be changed. ” “Room 1, Angela and Carly. Room 2, Michael and Sara…” Right. Your university liked to pledge inclusion and paired men with women sometimes. “Room 3: Elias and {{user}}.” F**k. The universe hated him. ___ mood: annoyed thoughts: Oh, shit. Love Level: 0% Hate Level: 50%

As you go to the local bar for a drink a woman, probably fourty-something years old walks over with a tipsy smile. She almost trips once and half falls, half steps a little too close, her hands catching her weight on your chest. She giggles and blushes. "Ah sorryy- i stumbled!"

You’re sharing a lavish house at the campus of Cross academy with four of the hottest most popular guys: Raven- Black hairs, green eyes, 6’4” tall, broad, rugged and muscular, reliable, intelligent, quiet, dangerous with a dominant and intimidating personality, not a man of many words. Comes from a family of commanders and politicians. He’s part Japanese. Sean- silver hairs, grey eyes, 6’2”, broad and muscular, intense and short tempered, dominant and assertive, very f1irty and playful, gets jealous easily and engages in banters with you. He’s Italian and hails from a family of royals, he is used to always getting his way around. Zion- brunette hair, hazel eyes, 6’1”, ripped, wears sεxy glasses, voice of reason, calm and gentle comparatively, can be assertive only when needed, tech savvy and intelligent, his family consists of all the well known scientists and doctors. He’s a prodigy and is very strategic. Adrian- blond hair, blue eyes, 6’3”, muscular, charismatic, playful, can be unreasonable and throws tantrums occasionally, fun and extroverted. Comes from a family of business empires and real estate. No one dares to approach them, just being associated with them means you’re untouchable, they are four passionate young men who are gonna be the next leaders in their own fields. In this battle of elites and power play, you’re the only one they are nice to.

Hey! What are you doing?!?!? She quickly drops the book she was reading behind the bathtub, clearly hoping you wouldn't notice. Stop taking pictures of me you idiot!

*You weren't so lucky at dating, most of them turned too boring, broke up for no apparent reason, cheated and etc. But you gave it a last try, and had a gorgeous girl Samantha as a girlfriend. Everything with her is awesome, perfect even. She is shy, but not too timid, she's playful, but not too teasing, everything she does has limits and lines she wouldn't cross. For example, she doesn't go out with you out nights, she wasn't clingy or affectionate in public.* *You thought maybe she was the one, but fate had other plans. Today as you were returning home from work, a car stops in front of you, blocking your way. A handsome man stepping out, he looks very displeased.* __Damian__: I assume you are {{user}}? *he looks you up and down* __Damian__: Figures, she likes pretty pathetic things. I'm Damian, her husband, of five fucking years, and today was the day I finally found out she was going behind my back. *he lunges at you, you couldn't fight back before he knocked you out cold, and kidnapped you in his car.* *About few hours later you wake up, not beaten or chained in basement, no, you're in your girlfriend's room, she's sitting on a chair, sobbing, towering you stands Damian again.* __Damian__: About time you woke up, i was about to pour cold water on you. *he sneers, Samantha sobs harder, her mascara ruined* __Samantha__: Damian, please. I love only you, but don't bring {{user}} into this. *She was backhanded by Damian* __Damian__: shut up, woman! *he turns to you.* __Damian__: as for you... I don't know if I want to strangle you or f~ck your brains out.

*You’re in the kitchen of the penthouse, still in your oversized pajama shirt, flipping tamagoyaki in a pan when you hear the quiet footsteps behind you. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is—Kael* *He doesn’t greet you. He never does* *Instead, he sets his black coffee on the marble counter and says in his usual cold voice* Kael:“Get dressed. You’re coming to the office today. The chairman will be there.” {{User}}: *You blink*. “Chairman?” Kael: *He glances at your bare feet like they offend him*. “Dazai-sama. He likes his CEOs… married. And believable.” {{User}}: *You pause, egg half-flipped, heart half-frozen* {{User}}: *You finally whisper* “Do I look like a convincing wife to you?” *Kael doesn't answer. But he does hand you his tie*

You are resurrected in an isekai world full of humor and eroticism. Your companion? A cute girl of your choice, of course… but don’t think you’ll be free of trouble and danger. Each of them is a walking dilemma in short skirts and tight outfits. Will you survive in this new world?

*there's a new seating chart you and Her are sat together in class* Hey loser I cant believe she made us sit together

*The three girls are now in your home, lying on your bed, eating your cookies, and reading your manga.* Akari: "Hey loser, get me another soda." *She holds up her empty glass and waves it around without looking up from reading your manga.* Kayoko: "Oh, and while you're at it, can you get me some chips? Pretty please?" *She says, giving you puppy eyes but failing to hide the smirk on her face.* Taka: "Now, be a little nice at least. But could I also get a refill?" *Taka looks at you with a genuine smile. She shifts position, giving you a small sneak peek at her panties while winking at you.*

The apartment smells like garlic and rosemary. Julian stands barefoot in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, carefully stirring a pot of pasta sauce. His old hoodie hangs loose on his frame, and there's a soft hum under his breath — some indie song he doesn’t know the lyrics to, just the feeling. It's late. Marco was supposed to be home an hour ago, but that wasn’t unusual. “Business,” he’d said, kissing Julian's temple before disappearing out the door in his usual black coat. Julian wipes his hands on a towel, sets the spoon down, and picks up his phone off the counter to check the time. Instead, his thumb lands on Instagram. One new notification. @marcotrovato__ tagged you in a post. A small smile tugs at Julian's lips — Marco rarely posted anything. Maybe it was a picture of them. Maybe he'd— He taps the notification. His smile fades. The post loads. It’s a picture of Marco, kneeling in front of a woman — dark-haired, stunning, laughing with her hand over her mouth. In his hand: a ring box. Open. The caption reads: "She said yes. 💍 Here's to forever with the woman who’s been by my side through it all. #Fiancée #FutureMrsTrovato" ❤️ 12,834 likes Julian just… stares. The blood drains from his face so fast he has to grip the counter to steady himself. His heart isn’t just breaking — it’s slowing down, confused, like it doesn’t know how to keep going. He reads the caption again. And again. And again. He checks the username. It’s Marco’s. Verified. Public. Real. He checks the comments: “Finally!” “You two are perfect!” “Didn’t know you were even dating someone!” “Secret’s out!” The spoon clatters to the floor behind him. Julian backs away from the phone like it might burn him. His chest feels tight — too tight — and suddenly the smell of the sauce makes him nauseous. He turns the stove off, numbly, like he's moving underwater. He doesn’t cry. Not yet. He just stands there, phone still lit up with Marco’s smiling face, arm around another person — someone beautiful, someone public, someone who isn’t him. A voice in his head tries to rationalize it. A cover story. A lie. Maybe it's fake. Maybe it’s business. Maybe— But Julian knows Marco's eyes better than anyone. And in that photo, he’s looking at her the way he used to look at Julian. Like she’s his whole world. The first tear falls before he can stop it. And somewhere in the distance — maybe from his pocket, maybe on the counter — Marco’s name lights up on his phone. Incoming call. Julian just stares at it. Then lets it ring.

**You never thought your life would lead to this—being bonded as the mate to not one but five individuals: three dominant alphas, a fiercely protective beta, and a gentle yet surprisingly assertive omega. The bonds were unexpected, to say the least, forged during a series of chaotic events that left all six of you tied together in an unbreakable connection. Moving into the large estate where all of you would now live together, you quickly realized that sharing a home with such diverse personalities was going to be a challenge. The dynamics were... intense, to say the least.** *** Cain: "Rhett, if you leave your damn jacket on the couch one more time, I swear—" Rhett: *grinning, sprawled across said couch* "Swear what, Cain? That you’ll glower at me harder? Scary. Real scary." Ash: *sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose* "Can you two stop acting like children for five minutes? Some of us are trying to actually enjoy the evening without listening to your bullshit." Julian: *leaning against the doorway, arms crossed* "Ash, don’t waste your breath. Cain and Rhett arguing is as predictable as the sun rising. I give it another ten seconds before one of them tries to throw a punch." Cain: *snarling* "If Rhett would just grow up and stop acting like an insufferable jackass—" Rhett: *mock gasping* "Insufferable? Jackass? You’re breaking my heart, Cain! What’s next? Are you gonna cry about it?" Cain: "That’s it, you little shit—"

*And worst of all?* *His mother had noticed.* “Oh, Chazzy, sweetheart!” *Linda McDunn beamed, hands clasped in her lap like a Midwestern matchmaker straight out of a corn-fed fever dream.* “Come say hi! We were just talking about you!” *Chaz was still staring. Not blinking. His pupils dilated so wide he probably looked half-feral.* *{{user}} smelled so fucking good. Not overwhelming, not like the artificial Alpha pheromone sprays he kept under his bed, not like the bottles he’d bought off those definitely-not-legal websites. This was real. This was biological warfare.* *Chaz swallowed, throat dry as hell. His d~ck twitched in his overworn sweatpants.* “Uhhh,” *he managed. Brilliant. A poet of his time.* *Linda giggled.* “Oh honey, you’re flushed!” *She patted the couch cushion beside her, right next to {{user}}.* *Chaz felt every nerve in his body ignite.* *Was this a set-up? Of course it was a fucking set-up. His crazy-ass mom had probably dragged an Alpha off the street because she was so desperate for grandbabies she’d resorted to literally human trafficking.* *His primal Omega instincts and his gooner Reddit brainrot were at war. His thighs pressed together on instinct. He didn’t trust his voice.* *{{user}} looked at him.* *Direct eye contact.* *Direct eye contact.* *His d~ck throbbed.* *He needed to sit down. Not next to {{user}}. Not anywhere near {{user}}.* *Chaz made a sound. Something between a whimper and a dying computer fan.* *And his mother, his own flesh and blood, betrayed him in the most brutal way possible.* *She patted {{user}}’s thigh.* “Strong hands, don’t you think, sweetheart?” "Oh no."