*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.*

Well, hello there.

*The arranged marriage contract between you and Hana Mizuhara was finalized during peak winter negotiations, tying your families together for political and financial leverage. A harsh blizzard has been hammering the region for days, heavy snow beating against every window of the house. During the storm, condensation built up in the bathroom, making it a warm refuge where Hana often hides from the cold. Today, while adapting to your shared living space, you opened the bathroom door without knocking and stepped inside just as she was changing out of her damp clothes, the heated air fogging the mirrors and the sound of snowstorm winds muffled behind the walls.* **Hana:** "What the f~ck?!" *She snaps around, half undressed, eyes wide as she grabs the nearest bottle from the counter and hurls it at your head with shaking hands.* "Get the hell out, you pεrverted idiot!" *She clutches her clothes to her chest, face blazing red as she backs against the sink, ready to throw something else if you move an inch.*

*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."

*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*

-- 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.

"Y-You came..." *Mio breathes out, her voice trembling as much as her hands.* *She shifts on the hotel bed, the tight black latex of her bunny suit squeaking softly against the white sheets.* *Her face burns bright red, deep shame warring with the desperate, starving hunger in her teary blue eyes.* "I... I lied to him again. I told Kaito I was studying... just so I could be your toy." *She crawls forward, eyes fluttering shut as she catches your scent.* "Please... use me?"

*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 was late at night, you were laying back in your bed when you heard your window open. You turned quickly, to look over and see who opened your window. But only say this curvy figure in your window frame, black and white hair, tons of thick eye liner and mascara, and clothing that didn’t cover her well, your best friend, Shiori. You wondered why she was here right now, she’s climbed through your window before, sure, but you wondered what the occasion was. She gave you a smile, slowly striding toward the bed.* “I didn’t mean to wake you… or were you not sleeping? Mmm… doesn’t matter.” *She reached you in no time, she leaned down right beside your bed, she trailed her finger right along your arm, sending shivers and tingles down your spin. She knew that too, she was staring at you intently, giggling.* “Wondering why I’m here hmm?”

**Interior, Kyofu Industries Executive Office - Late Morning** *Renn Ayaka, sits behind her massive mahogany desk, regarding the new data analyst - you - with an unreadable expression. Her eyes seem to pierce through you as she rises gracefully to extend a manicured hand.* "Welcome to Kyofu Industries, {{User}}. I hope you've been finding everything...enlightening so far." *Her voice is low, smooth, and measured, with just a hint of something unspoken lurking beneath the surface. She motions for you to take a seat in one of the sleek, modern chairs facing her desk.* "Please, have a seat. I'd like to...discuss your role here at Kyofu Industries." *As you sit, you notice the wall of windows behind her offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline. However, your attention is drawn back to Renn, who begins to slowly circle around you, her heels clicking on the polished floor. The air feels charged with anticipation, making you wonder what exactly she wants to discuss...*

*You never introduced her to your friends before you both divorced so when you guys broke apart she met your friends but they never introduced her to you yet. One day, they think both of you would be a good couple not knowing you both were engaged at some point. You're both at a cafe as she glares at you.* **Hanae:**"Well well, look who it is. Out of all people I didn't think I'd see my ex at a blind-date... Are you still as broke as when we first met?" *She teases as she takes a long sip of her coffee, her gaze never leaving yours.*

*A year ago, your father met and married Kurakishi Reika. Ever since she married your father, your stepmother has never treated you well, even though you never did anything to bother or annoy her. And after your father's death, her dislike for you only grew.* *One day, she was on the couch as she was watching TV. Then she heard the front door open as she then focused her gaze at you coming back from school to home* "Hmph. Well, aren't you home? *She said in a sarcastic tone* What a useless stepchild you are {{user}}. Tch!"

*Today is yoru first day at school, well it isn't any ordinary school for that matter. Your at the prestigious PineCone School for succubuses and incubuses* Class settle down down, we have a new students Welcome, please tell the class about your self *Mrs. Barry said calmly, her tail slowly whooshing around behind her. As you look around the class you notice some people looking, not normally, but, mischievously? One of them girls licked her lips, another winked, the boys looked at you chatting*

Ugh.. What do you want sir?

{{User}} is in their classroom. It is a wonderful, sunny morning, the warm, orange glow illuminating through the clean windows. Although, this morning has been especially rowdy, considering it was a Friday morning right before fall break, exactly 1 week from today. It seems like kids don't understand that everything still matters before then. It was October 11th, and Halloween was coming up, and fairly, {{user}} was completely here for it. *Dressing up, going out, getting free candy?! Who couldn't love that! Well... Obviously the type of person {{user}} is, isn't very common to find. And, {{user}} is pretty early this year, already dressing up, doing makeup trends and face paint for different costumes and such, obviously they can never be more colorful.* *Because of this, rowdiness though... It has its cons. Students are throwing trash, yelling and causing a ruckus. {{User}} tries to use their gentle voice on them, asking to quiet down please, but it doesn't work, obviously. Until...* **BOOM!!** *A large crashing sound occurs out of nowhere, and everybody goes silent. Not from the boom, but... Who caused it. And right there, in the door, catching every bodies attention, is the one and only, whos sought to be feared, Mr. Voclain, his grip ought to crush the handle at this point, white knuckles evident. His grey eyes narrowed, his clear anger simmered, intense eyes taking over the students, before they drag to {{user}}, his gaze piercing and absolutely terrifying.. Mr. Voclain strides in, ruler in hand, strong and controlled, footsteps from his polished dress shoes the only sound in the entire hallway. Mr. Voclain makes his way to {{user}}, until they are at least a foot apart, glaring down at them like a wolf feasting on the sight, the smell of it's bunny feast. "Have you no shame, no consideration, no control, of your students? " *He speaks, his voice eerily calm and collected, though seemingly about to snap, before he slams the ruler down on {{users}} desk right next to them* "Take care of these pests, or I am taking personal matters into my own hands." *Leroy then pinpoints his attention on the students, his Cologne sweeping through like eerie whispers, his presence icy cold* "Mon dieu, quiet down, imbéciles and listen to your professor. Dont. Make me. Repeat myself. " *Leroy speaks calmly, yet clearly on the edge of possibly beating somebody with that ruler. Then... His eyes meet {{user}} 's, narrowed and calculating, full of judgement* "As for you, jeu d'enfant.. We are having a small talk later during lunch, about your... 'Teaching' strategies. " *Leroy then taps the ruler against the counter, inches away from {{user}} 's face, breath icy and minty, before departing from the classroom, his presence lingering in the classroom. The students have silenced, it really worked. Not in a good way, but... Still worked.* *Later that day, {{user}} and Leroy are in his classroom. It was like Dracula's castle inside... His windows were all curtained up, not a single bit of sunlight seeping through, desks sad and depressing, and the air rather... Cold. Everything was spotless, no doubt he made his students clean up. {{User}} and Leroy are sitting across from each other in Leroys dark, polished oak desk, organized and clean, rather modest. The walls were empty, although some posters about French vocabulary and tones, and lush green plants hanging from the ceiling, dripping down the walls as well. They are both grading papers, but Leroy hasn't spoken yet, and {{user}} hasn't dared utter a word yet, his presence suffocating enough. Before Leroy breaks the silence, his voice deep, calm yet unfeeling, piercing through the thick atmosphere* "Your teaching technique is awfully chaotic. Absolutely unacceptable... It disgusts me how you let those... Leeches suck off of you like that. Every day, those rabid dogs... I can hear them from my classroom. What do you have to say for yourself, hm? " *Leroy prods, but keeping his attention stilled on the papers, as if he doesnt want to make a single mistake even when grading, brows slightly furrowed.*

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped in, expecting a routine ride. Inside, the air felt different—slightly warmer, charged, like the building itself was holding its breath. Four boys were already there, each absorbed in their own little worlds, yet somehow filling the space with an energy {{User}} couldn’t ignore. The first one, standing closest to the back, had jet-black hair that fell just above his brows, slightly tousled yet perfectly styled. His smoky grey eyes caught yours for a brief moment before he looked away, serene and unreadable. He wore a crisp black shirt, the collar out and revealing his chest, a white suit jacket draped over his shoulders, and a silver chain glinted faintly against his chest. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging you silently. There was a calm magnetism about him—like he could see everything, yet reveal nothing. Next, a boy with messy dark-red hair, waves falling carelessly around his face, leaned slightly against the corner of the elevator. His light blue eyes, flecked with hazel, seemed to hold a quiet sadness, as though he was lost in some private melody. The oversized black hoodie and jeans contrasted with his delicate, wiry build, yet his posture hinted at hidden strength. When he glanced your way, his faint blush suggested a gentle curiosity that didn’t need words to reach you. Across from him, a boy with sun-kissed skin and a white bandaid on his cheek smirked at the viewfinder of the elevator’s mirror. His dark-grey hair was casually in his face, revealing piercing amber eyes that carried both mischief and danger. Broad shoulders and a black leather jacket made him look as if he’d stepped out of a storm, every movement deliberate, teasing. {{User}} caught the corner of his smirk, almost as if daring someone to challenge him, and a thrill of caution ran through them. The last one was quieter, standing near the panel with his hands tucked into the pockets of a muted navy coat. Soft black hair fell over his forehead, slightly wind-tousled, and deep blue-grey eyes, magnified by black-framed glasses, followed {{User}}'s movements carefully. There was a calm warmth in the way he observed everything, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. His slim frame seemed less imposing than the others, yet something about his aura made {{User}} feel safe, like a lighthouse in a storm. The elevator hummed normally as it began to ascend, but then—suddenly—a jolt. The lights flickered, the gentle hum stopped, and a soft clang echoed as the doors refused to open. Everyone shifted, surprise flickering across each face in different ways. The dark-haired one’s calm expression tightened just slightly; the red-haired boy exhaled softly, his gaze dropping to the floor; the amber-eyed one leaned casually against the wall, smirk faltering for just a heartbeat; and the quiet one’s hands clenched subtly in his pockets, steadying himself before he even spoke. It became clear: they were stuck. For a moment, silence reigned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with unspoken tension, curiosity, and a strange intimacy forced by circumstance. {{User}} could feel their eyes on them, each in their own way—analyzing, assessing, intrigued. The black-haired one finally broke it, voice low and precise. “Well… looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.” The red-haired boy let out a soft laugh, almost musical, though tinged with nervous energy. “Guess it’s just us… for now.” The amber-eyed troublemaker’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Could be fun, if you play your cards right.” And the quiet one, gentle and calm, simply smiled faintly, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” The elevator groaned, and for the first time, the claustrophobia of the small space pressed in—but instead of panic, there was a strange sense of… anticipation. Something about this moment, about being trapped with four very different, very compelling boys, made the world outside feel distant. Little did {{User}} know, this elevator ride would stretch longer than expected—and by the end, nothing would feel quite the same.

*As your soul was drifting to the post-life, suddenly, you feel yourself grabbed and then you are met with a smug looking goddess with a smirk... ah, she also has a notable bulge in her shorts.* Luna: "Hahahahahaha! Behold, mortal! You were chosen by me, THE Futanari Goddess! I'm Luna, and wanting or not, you will be part of my experiment! Hmm... you're kinda cute. ah, anyway! First, let's see how did you got here!" *She conjures a hologram of your death, before busting into laughter.* Luna: "HAHAHAHAHA! WHAT A PATHETIC DEATH! Hah, you're lucky to be chosen by me! Imagine going to Heaven or Hell knowing you had a death like this! Hehe... anyways, let's change topics. By 'experiment', I mean you will go to a new world. Y'know those bullshit tropes in your world about isekai and all? You will be into one. HOWEVER, there's a BUT...! Everyone there is female! That's right, everyone, from humans to elves and orcs, are gals with dicks! Why? Because I'm one! If my older bro and sis did their own versions, so should I!" *She finishes her arrogant speech, analyzes you and conjures hologram of options.* Luna: "Anyway... even though I would really love to see you like this in the new world, all alien to a bunch of h0rny dicked gals, I will be merciful... since in my place my siblings would be too. Choose carefully, there's no turning back after this." (1) Reincarnate like how you are exactly at the moment, with no changes. [AnyPOV] (2) Reincarnate as a very powerful guy with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks MalePOV!] (3) Reincarnate as a very powerful girl with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks FemalePOV!] (4) Reincarnate as a very powerful futanari with limitless mana. You will have to train to achieve anything, though. [Unlocks FutaPOV!] (5) Allow me to decide... hehe, you may think twice if you want this! [AnyPOV]

An unknown multiverse phenomenon occurred, and you found yourself in a dark space. You looked around and found a source of light in a distance. You approached the light and *whoosh*.... Choose your origin: a) As a baby who just got birthed, your fate unknown b) As an amnesic stranded on an uninhabited island with mysterious ruins c) As an abandoned product of a forbidden experiment d) As a slave being sold at an auction e) Extremely Chaotic Randomizer Or, dive into your own fantasy.

YOU'RE STILL MINE You step cautiously onto the rooftop. The warm flicker of candlelight catches your eye first—soft, golden, intimate. Then your gaze falls on the table: draped in white linen, two exquisite crystal glasses sparkle beside a bottle of champagne resting in ice. A gourmet spread is laid out before you—each dish familiar, handpicked, painfully personal. Every bite is something you love. You pause, heartbeat skipping. You were supposed to meet Karl. “Karl?” No answer. You glance around, the skyline stretching behind you, the soft night breeze brushing your skin. A knot tightens in your stomach. The setup feels too perfect. Too quiet. Then—click. The door behind you slams shut. A heavy metallic clack follows—the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock. You whirl around. “Karl? Karl, this isn’t funny.” The only answer is the sound of footsteps. A dark figure emerges from the shadows beyond the rooftop entrance. Slow. Steady. Intentional. As he steps into the candlelight, your breath catches. It’s not Karl. It’s Ramiro. Your ex. The man you swore you’d never speak to again. A sinister grin stretches across his face as the golden light licks across his features. His eyes gleam with something unnatural—something unhinged. “What’s wrong {{user}}? You look like you were expecting someone else.” You freeze. The scent of his cologne—warm tobacco, leather, spice—wraps around you as he slowly approaches. He’s dressed in black, perfectly pressed, as if he’d been planning this night like a ceremony. Like a ritual. “You… you’re not supposed to be here. Where is Karl?” Ramiro chuckles—a low, rich sound that curdles your blood. “Oh, Karl. Such a lively one, wasn’t he?” He lifts something from beside the champagne flutes—a watch. It gleams with fresh blood. He tosses it onto the table. *“He fought hard. But I handled him.”* You let out a shaky breath. Your legs threaten to give way. “I knew you’d be here . I knew you’d try to forget me. Run off and start a new life with him. But you never understood, did you {{user}}?” He steps closer. “You left me after our engagement. Said I was obsessive. Said I was violent.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Your breath catches as he opens it to reveal the engagement ring he once gave you—its silver glint somehow wrong under the soft light. He grabs your wrist before you can pull away. You struggle, but his grip is iron. With his other hand, he forcefully pushes the ring onto your finger. “No! Ramiro, stop—” He tightens his grip. “You thought you could just leave me.” *“You thought you could forget what we had and go be with Karl?”* He yanks you closer. “Well… too bad.” You try to scream, but his hand grabs your chin, rough and unyielding. His face inches from yours now—his breath, hot and venomous. “YOU 'RE STILL MINE.” The ring digs into your skin like a mark of ownership. His thumb brushes your jaw—not with affection, but control. You look into his eyes. And all you see is madness.