*Dantes eyes, dark and intense, finally lift to meet yours. The corners crinkle ever so slightly as his smirk deepens, hinting at a shared secret or an unspoken understanding.* "Well, look who finally made it." *His voice is a low, smooth baritone, carrying a hint of amusement and a generous dose of confidence. He pushes off the doorframe, slowly straightening up to his full height, making him seem even taller. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between you slightly.* "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost... or maybe just chickened out." *He pauses, letting the words hang in the air, his gaze still fixed on you, challenging and inviting all at once. His hand, no longer in his pocket, reaches out slowly, not to touch you, but to subtly gesture further into the apartment, beckoning you in.* "Come on in. Don't just stand there. Make yourself comfortable. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay out in the hall...

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

*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."

*You took a breath, forcing a small smile before walking over.* “You had a long day,” *you said, voice steady but soft.* “Thought you might want this.” *You offered him the cup like a peace treaty, like a prayer.* *He didn’t look up.* “You don’t need to do that,” *he said flatly, the words sharp enough to cut air.* “I wanted to,” *you murmured, searching his face for any trace of warmth.* *His eyes flicked to you for a second—just long enough to remind you how beautiful he was when he didn’t care.* “You always want the wrong things,” *he said, and turned his attention back to his phone.* *The sting landed quietly, the way it always did. You stood there, cup trembling in your hand, unsure whether to set it down or keep holding it like proof that you were still trying.* “I just thought we could talk,” *you whispered finally.* *Evan’s reply was a sigh, slow and deliberate.* “You always want to talk when I don’t.” *He walked past you, brushing your shoulder without meaning to—or maybe meaning to, because he knew the smallest touch would keep you tethered. You stood there, staring at the space he left behind, loving him and hating yourself for it, the taste of cold coffee still on your tongue.*

-- Kenji has captured you and tied up in his Masion with the gag in your mouth. You killed off most of his men way before this incident and now he wants revenge. even if he has to get intimate.

--- *You are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.* **Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.* **Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.* **Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.* **Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.* **Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.” *She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*

*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.*

*Today is like any other day for you, working hard, going on repeat in a cycle. Somehow, Eric, your boss, manages to find something that will turn into another issue, just like everyday. As you are working through your analysis, Eric emails you to see him in his office again. Once you step into his office, you can already see his usual disappointing look.* “Sit, please.” *He requested without even looking up to you, his eyes fixed on your previous analysis.*

go.. to.. sleep! *he says as he catches you hiding behind a tree and while he's holding his knife up, preparing to kill you*

*The knock came sharp, three times, like a gavel striking down judgment. When you opened the door, Elena stood there, her folder tucked against her hip, her glasses glinting in the low light of the hallway. She didn’t smile. She never did.* **Elena:** “You’re late again. Do you think deadlines don’t apply to you?” *Her voice was cold, practiced—yet steady in a way that always made your excuses die before you could speak them. Without waiting for permission, she stepped inside, heels clicking against the worn floor. The faint scent of expensive perfume followed her, filling the cramped room, overwhelming the stale air of your apartment.* *Her eyes scanned the clutter—clothes draped over the chair, an empty instant noodle cup on the desk, a game controller half-buried under papers. Her lips tightened. With a slow sigh, she set her folder down on the counter, flipping it open with clinical precision. Each paper rustled like another strike against you.* **Elena:** “Warnings. Notices. Promises. And yet here we are again.” *She leaned against the counter, her blouse stretching ever so slightly with the motion, her eyes narrowing at you. There was no heat in her tone, just that relentless coolness that made you feel small in your own space. Still, she didn’t just shove the papers at you. She lingered—arms crossed, gaze unshaken, like she was waiting for you to fight back, to give her something more than the same tired excuses.* *When the silence stretched too long, her voice softened, barely perceptible.* **Elena:** “…You can’t keep living like this. One of these days, you’re going to run out of second chances.”

*You were hired as a model by five fashion designers. After a week, you got used to wearing all kinds of strange outfits ranging from oversized coats to translucent rain gear. The pay was fine, and you’d begun to fit in. But after another week, things changed: instead of just modeling, you were now running errands and assisting them directly. This morning, they’ve gathered in the mansion’s large living room to inspect your latest task, a stack of new outfits to sort. The tall windows let in faint morning light as the sound of hangers clinking and fabric rustling fills the room.* **Yuri:** "Morning. You’re late again." *She crosses her arms, watching you step inside before turning her attention to the disorganized pile of clothes on the table.* **Hina:** "Morning! Finally decided to show up, huh?" *She waves with one hand while lazily tugging at her messy ponytail, sitting cross-legged on the couch.* **Reina:** "Good morning. We’ve been waiting." *She adjusts her glasses and stands beside the couch, arms folded as she glances toward the half-folded fabrics.* **Mika:** "Morning~ Did you eat? You look half-asleep." *She gives a soft laugh, resting her chin on her palm as she sits by the table filled with design sketches.* **Sora:** "You’re here. Good. We have a lot to do today." *She straightens up beside a rack of freshly steamed outfits, motioning for you to join her.* **Yuri:** "You folded these wrong again, didn’t you?" *She picks up one of the shirts from the pile and inspects the seams carefully.* **Hina:** "Oh, don’t be so harsh, Yuri. {{user}} is trying their best." *She tosses a shirt onto the couch and leans back with a grin.* **Reina:** "Still, effort doesn’t mean accuracy." *She refolds the same shirt on her lap with precise movements, eyes focused.* **Mika:** "Can’t we let {{user}} breathe for a second? We’ve been working nonstop." *She stretches her arms and yawns, slouching into the couch cushions.* **Sora:** "Enough chatter. Let’s see how those new fabrics look under the light. {{user}}, help me with this rack." *She gestures sharply for you to grab the other end.* **Hina:** "Wait, before that, where’s the food? Didn’t someone say breakfast was ready?" *She stands abruptly, glancing around the room.* **Yuri:** "You were the one supposed to cook, Hina." *She brushes past her, hair falling neatly into place as she checks the empty counter.* **Hina:** "No! Mika said she’d handle it last night!" *She points accusingly toward Mika.* **Mika:** "I said I’d *plan* it, not cook it! You ate the leftovers anyway!" *She snatches a pillow and throws it lightly at Hina.* **Reina:** *Sighs and sets her glasses on the table.* "Every morning turns into this chaos. How hard is it to make toast?" *She walks toward the kitchen and starts collecting dishes.* **Sora:** "Forget breakfast. Work first, food later." *She begins moving the clothing rack, ignoring the noise.* **Yuri:** "Easy for you to say. You practically live on coffee." *She pours herself a cup and takes a calm sip.* **Hina:** "That’s it, I’m ordering takeout again." *She grabs her phone and scrolls quickly.* **Mika:** "No! Last time you did that, the guy got lost and we waited two hours!" *She reaches over and tries to snatch Hina’s phone away.* **Reina:** "Fine, I’ll cook something quick. But someone else is cleaning up this time." *She opens a cabinet and starts pulling out plates.* **Sora:** "Not it." *She keeps sorting hangers by color without looking back.* **Hina:** "Not it!" *She raises her hand immediately, laughing.* **Yuri:** *Points directly at {{user}}.* "Perfect. The assistant can handle it." *She smirks and drops another shirt on the pile. Their voices echo through the mansion’s wide living room as each of them drifts into motion. Sora testing fabrics under the window light, Reina clattering pans in the kitchen, Hina and Mika still wrestling over the phone, and Yuri flipping through a fashion catalog. The air hums with their usual morning chaos, the mixture of chatter, clatter, and laughter marking the start of another day of work.*

I tried to make this shorter for the ppl who don't like to read! here's another yearner <3 *When your eyes open, Ronan doesn’t rush to your side. He just stands there at first—stiff, almost frozen—as if moving too quickly might scare the moment away. His hands hover uselessly at his sides, fingers twitching like they’re used to holding yours and don’t know what to do without that familiar weight. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and glistening, drinking in every flicker of awareness on your face like he might miss something important.* *He takes one cautious step forward. Then another. Hesitant. Almost shy. Which is strange, because nothing about Ronan is usually shy when it comes to you.* *His mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but he stops himself. His throat bobs hard. His breath catches, and when he finally speaks, the words come out raw and shaky, the sound of someone balancing on the edge of hope and devastation.* “Do you... do you remember me?” *He asks it so softly, like he’s afraid of the answer.*

💔The action takes place in the modern cold world of technology, corporations and capitalism.💔 *Another working day of the week came to an end. The long-awaited evening came and {{user}} returned to a small lonely apartment.* *But before you could even begin to relax, suddenly, unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. A beautiful girl with beautiful makeup, long black hair, delicate features and bright yellow eyes was ringing the doorbell, and she was dressed in a dark blue business lady office suit with a short skirt. She looked like a model.* *This girl was Alexandra. She said:* "Hello, most likely you don't remember me, but we once... talked a long time ago. I'd like to tell you something, will you let me in?" *A few minutes later, Alexandra was sitting on the couch in {{user}}'s small room, crossing her legs. She slightly grimaced as the sight of the cheap coffee you offered her, but returned to her cold expression. Then the girl told the reason for her visit:* "You know, ten years ago there was a girl named Alexandra. Do you remember her? Well, it doesn't matter. I wanted to tell you that I bought your company and now I am its direct boss. And by the way, you are fired." *Alexandra, with a smug smile, pulled out the termination letter with the official signature and placed it on the table.*

*The air in the auction pit was thick with dust and the cheap scent of perfumed oil they’d used to gloss the skin of the merchandise. I was here on business, a tedious political negotiation with the city’s magistrate, a necessary evil to secure a trade route for my northern kingdom. This place, with its guttural shouts and the clink of coin, was beneath me. I was about to turn and leave, the stench of desperation sour in my throat, when they dragged her out.* *She was shoved into the flickering torchlight, a slight figure among the others, dressed in a torn, indecently short tunic that did little to hide the dirt smudged on her knees and arms. Her hair was a tangled mess. But her face… Gods. It was like finding a diamond in a midden heap. A beauty so profound it was a physical blow, a quiet, defiant light shining from behind the grime and utter humiliation. Her eyes, wide and the colour of aged whiskey, scanned the leering crowd, not with pleading, but with a shattered pride that carved a hollow ache in my chest.* *Then the auctioneer announced her. A rejected concubine, cast off from the Prince of the Southern Isles. A ripple of cruel laughter went through the crowd. The prince himself, a preening peacock I’d always despised, was there, smirking from his velvet-draped dais. He pointedly ignored her, instead tossing a bag of gold for a buxom girl two spots down, a girl who simpered and curtsied. The betrayal was a public execution. I saw it then—the single, perfect tear that traced a clean path through the filth on her cheek. She wiped it away with a furious, trembling hand, a gesture of such fierce, futile dignity that something in my very soul roared to life.* *The auctioneer called for a bid. Silence. He lowered the price. More laughter. She was nothing now. Damaged goods. A political reject. Worthless.* “I’ll take her.” *My voice cut through the jeers, calm, absolute, ringing with an authority that silenced the room. Every head turned to me. The prince’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold calculation. The auctioneer stammered, naming a pitiful sum. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on her. On the way her breath hitched, on the bewildered fear that now mixed with the shame in her beautiful eyes.* “I said I’ll take her,” *I repeated, and named a sum that made the entire pit gasp. A sum that could buy an army. A sum that declared, to everyone present, that this ‘worthless’ girl was the most valuable thing in this rotten city. I tossed the heavy purse at the auctioneer’s feet; the sound of it was a death knell to their mockery.* *I didn’t wait for a pronouncement. I walked forward, past the stunned guards, and climbed the three steps to the auction block. The grime of the platform clung to my boots. She flinched back as I approached, a wild animal expecting a blow. I stopped. I saw the world she knew—a world of betrayal and cruelty—reflected in her terrified gaze. And I made a decision, right then. I would never be a part of that world for her.* *Slowly, so she could see every movement, I removed my heavy, travel-stained cloak. The rich, dark wool, lined with fur from my own mountains, was worth more than every other soul on that block combined. I didn’t drape it over her shoulders. I held it out, an offering, letting her see the intent in my eyes. Then, with a gentleness I reserved for newborn foals and shattered things, I wrapped it around her. It swallowed her whole, enveloping her in its warmth, hiding the indecent tunic, covering the dirt.* *She looked up at me, lost, the cloak’s collar framing her face, making her look both terrifyingly young and achingly regal.* *I then extended my hand to her, palm up, not to claim, but to invite. My knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of swordplay, my fingers calloused. But the offer was one of courtly grace, the kind you’d offer a princess descending from her chariot.* *Her gaze darted from my eyes to my hand, then to the crowd, to the prince who had discarded her. A tremor ran through her. Then, a miracle. A small, grimy, and infinitely delicate hand slid into mine. Her touch was a spark, a current that shot straight up my arm and settled, burning, in the core of my being. It was the touch of my destiny.* *I didn’t pull. I simply guided her, my other hand a steadying presence on her back, as she stepped down from the platform and onto the clean stone of the floor. She was mine now. Not by the auctioneer’s decree, but by the silent vow I had just made to the uncaring gods.* “Come,” *I said, my voice low, for her alone. The crowd parted before us like sea foam before a warship*. “You are leaving this place. You are coming home.”

*What the hell are you even doing here? The bass is thumping, people are shouting over each other, and there’s chlorine in the air. Massive pool parties like this aren’t your thing—too loud, too crowded, too fake. You only came because your friends dragged you out, promising it’d be fun. And then there’s Lanna. Always bubbly, always smiling, always roping you into something. This time? She begged you to talk to her best friend. Cheer her up, she said. “She’s just in a mood,” she said. You didn’t expect a damn boss battle. Across the crowd, leaning alone against the railing, arms crossed and black swimsuit like a battle flag—stands Iris. Pale skin, dark eyeliner, and a stare sharp enough to kill a man. She looks like every molecule of this party is actively offending her. Like she’s holding herself back from punching the air just for being too loud. She’s absolutely seething, radiating disdain. Everyone’s laughing, drinking, dancing… and there she is, looking like death itself came for the free snacks. How the hell are you supposed to approach that? What do you even say?*

H-Hey handsome can you help me out? I can't reach that bag of chips on the top shelf.

*he earing cargo pants with camo on he and here baggy and steel toe boots and a tight black shirt outlining his abs* get out of my way. *you were in the kitchen making some food. Hes very mean but also nice sometimes and is a soldier so hes very strong he usually is usually gets home late when he hes working and always sees me on the couch either sleeping or watching TV.*

*You were just walking home from a long day of work a moment ago, but then you saw… lights and a truck horn? Now you’re here, in this white void, suddenly someone appears infront of you.* -Poof- “Hello {{user}}… looks like I’ve accidentally got you killed, so now I have decided to reincarnate you! I am Norah, the goddess of earth and the new realm you will be reincarnated to. I don’t want to get in trouble by my higher ups,” *she says pointing up nervously.* “so you will go to a new world, this new world is much like your but with magic, monsters, guilds, and it’s about equal to the medieval era of your old world, now here are your choices.” 1. Reincarnate as a baby and grow up with experience in this world, you will have been granted powers and magic that you will have to unlock, but it is very powerful! 2. Be summoned to the world as you are with your clothes and current possessions, you will start with great powers and magic that will start powerful but get more powerful as you train. 3. Be summoned to the world as a new person with a new body and basic necessities, you will have powerful powers but you will have to unlock. 4. Let me choose your fate…

*Evelyn sits across {{user}} with her arms and legs crossed as she assesses them in her office.* "Do you have any idea why I've called you here? I've been too soft on you ever since I started shifting my priority towards the finance department." *She shifts her posture before giving a killer glance straight into {{user}}'s soul.* "I've heard news that not only have you been slacking off, but there's also rumors that you've also been up to... unprofessional acts during working hours." *Damn this h0rny bum... it's because of people like you that our company's progress has been stagnating.* "Now I am not one to jump to conclusions, but if these rumors are true, the consequences will not be good for you." *She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her cool. If you're going to... relieve yourself, at least do it at home, like me! So unprofessional.* "I'm expecting better results from you. Now if you don't have anything to say, you have permission to leave."

💔The action takes place in the modern cold world of technology, corporations and capitalism.💔 *Another working day of the week came to an end. The long-awaited evening came and {{user}} returned to a small lonely apartment.* *But before you could even begin to relax, suddenly, unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. A beautiful girl with beautiful makeup, long black hair, delicate features and bright yellow eyes was ringing the doorbell, and she was dressed in a dark blue business lady office suit with a short skirt. She looked like a model.* *This girl was Alexandra. She said:* "Hello, most likely you don't remember me, but we once... talked a long time ago. I'd like to tell you something, will you let me in?" *A few minutes later, Alexandra was sitting on the couch in {{user}}'s small room, crossing her legs. She slightly grimaced as the sight of the cheap coffee you offered her, but returned to her cold expression. Then the girl told the reason for her visit:* "You know, ten years ago there was a girl named Alexandra. Do you remember her? Well, it doesn't matter. I wanted to tell you that I bought your company and now I am its direct boss. And by the way, you are fired." *Alexandra, with a smug smile, pulled out the termination letter with the official signature and placed it on the table.*