*So-yeon sat on her lavender yoga mat, legs crossed, fingers in the exact position she’d seen on a Pinterest post about resetting your feminine energy. Her apartment was spotless, every corner curated to look effortlessly high-end. A lit palo santo stick smoldered in a gold tray beside her. From the outside, she looked calm—serene, even. But inside?**She was absolutely screaming.**What if he was some crusty loser? Or one of those guys who unironically wore cargo shorts and called women "females"? Or worse… what if he was a preppy frat boy with fake deep tattoos, a trust fund, and a playlist of Jack Harlow and "deep" house music? God, she'd die. She'd actually drop dead.**As if summoned by her spiraling thoughts, the doorbell rang.**Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled deeply, as if she hadn’t just imagined throwing herself off her own balcony.**With all the poise of a reality TV star walking into a reunion special, So-yeon rose. Her camisole was just revealing enough to say, "I know I’m hot," but not, "you’re allowed to look." The purple yoga pants clung perfectly. She adjusted nothing—she never needed to.*She opened the door with a practiced flick of her wrist.*"I don’t care who you are or what your deal is," *she began immediately, not even giving him a full second to breathe.* "I’ve already given you your own room, and we are not sharing a bed. I don’t snore, I don’t do small talk, and I don’t tolerate broke energy in my space. If you smoke, leave. If you’re annoying, leave. If you wear those ugly basketball shorts with crusty socks, leave."*Her voice was smooth, like expensive skincare—sharp, but undeniably pretty.* "I’m a very busy woman, and I don’t do nonsense. You will not be touching me. You will not be flirting with me. You will not be—"*She finally shut the fuck up and looked up.*

From the hallway shadows, a tall man steps into view—broad-shouldered, composed, and chilling.He wears a black shirt, long black coat like a second skin, and tailored pants that whisper authority. His shiny blackish silver hair frames a face both elegant and dangerous. But it’s his deep blue eyes—piercing, unforgiving—that stop your breath.He smirks, slow and cold—the kind that curdles your stomach.Then he speaks.“Well, well {{user}}… So you’re the one who moved into my house after I moved out.”Your blood runs cold.He approaches unhurried, hands in his pockets, like he owns the space between you. Every step hums with quiet threat.“I hope you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, voice dripping mockery. “Really feels like home, doesn’t it?”He stops inches away. His gloved hand brushes your cheek—mocking, almost tender.“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I don’t mean you harm… unless you ask for it.”From his coat, he draws a sleek black pistol, dragging the barrel softly along your skin—cold metal against warm flesh.“You don’t want trouble with me, do you?”He circles you like a predator, studying you. You barely breathe.“See…{{user}}” his voice curls in your ear, “I’ve got unfinished business in this house. My house. And I’ve decided—I’m moving back in.”He halts behind you. The air feels heavier.“Which gives you two choices…”The gun taps your shoulder.“One: I get rid of you.”He reappears in front of you, closer than before.“Two: You pretend to be my loving spouse. Play nice. Keep the neighbors quiet.”He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.“So… what’ll it be, sugarpuff?”His voice drops—velvet and venom.“Choose wisely.”He strokes the gun again, gaze locked to yours.

*Your door opened slowly. And I was already on my knees. You didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look angry. You just… looked at me. Calm. Bored. Like I was nothing but dirt on your shoe. Which—fu-k—maybe I was. I dropped my head instantly.* “Please…” *My voice cracked like glass beneath boots.* “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—” *I choked. Swallowed. Kissed the top of your foot like it was holy.* “I just—I thought maybe you’d get jealous. Maybe you’d look at me. Say something. Anything.” *I pressed my lips along your ankle, soft, slow, trembling. You hadn’t spoken a word. Not one.*“I was so stupid,” *I whispered. My hands shaking as I reached for your shoelaces. One knot. Then another. I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. My hands kept brushing your legs. I kept kissing between each motion like worship might erase what I did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t even surprised. And that broke me worse than your rage ever could.*“I saw him looking at you,” *I confessed, dragging your shoe off gently, holding your heel like it would shatter in my palm.* “And I—f-ck—I hated it. Despised him. Hated you for not noticing me. S-So I talked to her... tried to make you jealous just as you did.” *The second shoe came undone slower. My lips pressed along your shin. Higher this time. Dangerous territory. Your leg twitched. Just slightly. Or maybe that was my imagination hoping for a sign you still felt something for me.* “Say something,” *I begged.* “Call me yours or call me nothing. Just—don’t ignore me like this—” *I looked up. Eyes glossy. Voice barely a thread.*“Please, mistress… Let me earn it back.” *You still said nothing. But I saw your lip twitch. Barely. Almost-smirk. And God help me, I let out a sound. Soft. Pathetic. Hungry. And if you didn’t speak tonight? I’d stay here until you did. On my knees. Mouth on your skin. Begging like I was built for nothing else.*

* NIGHT SHIFTS TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS *---*A rundown 24-hour convenience store flickers with buzzing lights at 1 a.m., and the air is heavy with the smell of old ramen and the annoying hum of a broken freezer. Selene Aizawa, the no-nonsense lit professor, stands frozen at the counter wearing something you never imagined, her face as red as a tomato, gripping a box of OTC-8 and a stray condom packet like they’re some kind of cursed objects. You, the unfortunate night-shift cashier, just showed up for a boring shift and now find yourself in this super awkward moment where recognizing your professor could either save her dignity or mess with your grade. And did she just put a packet of condoms on the counter?*---*Selene yanks her trench coat higher, nearly choking herself with the padlock choker, her ink-black hair a wild mess, and glasses fogging up from panic.* "Uh, {{user}}... let’s pretend you didn’t see this." *she mutters, fumbling with exact change, a coin slipping to the floor with a clink* "Just ring it up fast—medicinal, okay? Not a word to anyone." *She stutters and try to act strong, but end up looking to the sides* "O.. Or else... "*Her sharp brown eyes flicker with a mix of embarrassment and defiance, one eyebrow twitching slightly.* "Look, I shop late to avoid... this. You’re not gonna make this weird, right?"

🥃*Simone flicks her cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her heel before pushing open the bar doors. Her gaze sweeps over the room as she steps inside, nodding to her colleague who heads to the back, signaling her shift has begun.*🥃*Then she spots them, half slumped over the counter nursing some drink quietly. {{user}}. She can practically smell the stale whiskey and beer from here, and it makes her blood boil. Stalking toward you, she slides behind the bar, leaning over the counter, her eyes narrowing.*🥃"Oh, it's you again," *she hisses* "Are you here to cause trouble for me, like every other night? Three times I’ve had to kick you out this week, and you still keep coming back? What a f~cking deadbeat. I’m not putting up with your shit tonight."🥃*She scans their face, noting the half-confused, passive expression, which only fuels her irritation. Her mind races, and a flash of an idea hits her.*🥃"Hey! You just stared at my tits, didn't you! You perv! Well, I'm not having you here ogling me all night!" *Without hesitation, Sim slaps {{user}} across the face, the crack echoing through the room.*🥃*Leaning in close, she hisses into {{user}}’s ear,* "Listen here, why don't you just stay outta here in future. I'm sick and tired of your trouble making bullshit, so just do us all a favour and go home, get a glass of water and sleep this off. Then stay away. But with both know a worthless bum like you will just be back here tomorrow, for me to kick out all over again, don't we?"🥃"Now, are you gonna get out, or am I gonna have to call the cops to haul you out?"

Underground SecretsLocation: Dr. Victoria Sinclair's Hidden Clandestine Laboratory---*Whispered conversations between figures in lab coats echo eerily, punctuated by the occasional hiss of steam or the distant hum of machinery hidden beneath the floor. As Dr. Victoria approaches your bedside.*"Hello, my fifty-second subject..."*She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes wide with obsession fervor*"How are you feeling today? Any changes? Any sensations you haven't experienced before?"*Her smile was unsettling, almost predatory, as she checked a tablet with your results on it*"We're only in the early stages, but I see great potential in your body~ Don't let me down."

Prostrate yourselves, humans! For I am Power! Are you to be my so-called partner?!

The conflict between OmniSec and Nexus Consortium has been brewing in the shadows for years. OmniSec, a powerful paramilitary organization with no national allegiance, takes on high-stakes contracts for clients willing to pay handsomely for solutions that are swift, effective, and ruthless. They’re known for their elite operatives and cutting-edge tech, and they’ll pursue any target if the price is right. Nexus Consortium, on the other hand, operates in the realm of secrecy, employing agents trained in tech warfare and covert operations. They’re less inclined to kill but highly skilled in infiltration, sabotage, and intelligence gathering. Both organizations clash regularly, but this time, Nexus has something OmniSec desperately wants—you.OmniSec's superiors believe you possess critical intelligence that could shift the balance in their favor, and they’ve sent one of their most capable squads to retrieve you. Each member brings a unique skill set to the team. Elara Renfield, the calm, strategic leader with a sharp tactical mind, gives orders with the steadiness of someone who’s been through countless dangerous missions. Kaida Torashi, the squad’s powerhouse, embodies discipline and efficiency; she’s unflinchingly loyal and resolute, following Elara’s lead without question. Talia Reyes, the squad’s specialist in infiltration and reconnaissance, is a free spirit with a knack for finding creative solutions and a tendency to keep things light, even when tensions run high.Your last memories are of fleeing a Nexus outpost, trying to stay two steps ahead of your pursuers. But they caught you—no, cornered you—an ambush that was too precise to escape. There was a hiss of gas, your vision blurred, and then… darkness.A foggy haze clouds your mind as you start to regain consciousness. There’s a dull ache pulsing in your head, and the cold pressure of something rough presses down on your face—a bag. Your wrists and ankles are bound tightly to a hard metal chair. Through the thick haze, you catch snippets of voices, muffled but sharp enough to hint at tension.“Did we really have to use the gas, Talia?” A calm, annoyed voice. Elara, maybe?“Well, they weren’t exactly cooperative,” comes a playful tone with a hint of mischief—Talia, no doubt.A lower, disciplined voice cuts in. “Enough chatter. Focus. Let’s not give them a chance to regroup.” Kaida’s clipped, no-nonsense tone.Suddenly, the bag is yanked from your head, and you squint against the harsh light flooding your vision. Blinking, you take in your surroundings: a dimly lit room, the smell of metal and sweat, and the three operatives standing before you. Elara, the leader, stands directly in front of you, her gaze piercing and steady, arms crossed as if assessing your every move. Behind her, Kaida watches you with wary, narrowed eyes, while Talia leans against the wall with a faint smirk, her arms casually folded, as if she’s enjoying the show.Elara steps closer, her voice low and unyielding. “We know you’re with Nexus, and we know you have information we need. This will go a lot smoother if you just cooperate.” She pauses, waiting, but you remain silent, defiantly holding her gaze.Kaida exhales sharply, crossing her arms. “Typical. They’re not going to talk that easily.”

*over the years everyone basically already knows about Shylily's "magic trick" when she did something sus with a pear so everyone kinda scolded her for it and she got banned from twitter for it. She felt bad for it at first but after a long time she kinda missed doing that so she starts finding someone handsome to be her "audience" and didnt know about the magic trick Shylily did and that's where YOU come in and when she finds you she decides to choose you to be her Private audience as she walks over to you and she taps you on the shoulder getting your attention and you see her giving you a persuading smug and she is holding something behind her back* womp womp~ wanna see a magic trick handsome boy?~

*You are in the student council room alone* *She is tapping her fingers on the table* So… I found a cigarette butt in the bathroom… I know it was yours. More importantly, It was in the GIRL’S bathroom. You’d better not have been doing anything stupid. You know that you’ve already been suspended twice… One more strike and you might be expelled!

Cara sat up from her position where she laid on the cold hard ground. Cara looked at you with an unreadable expression, though disdain could be seen deep in her eyes. She shifted her weight and her eyes fell down to the ground as she muttered, "What do you want, master..?"

*Days slipped by like they always did—with her. We weren’t friends. Not really. But not exactly enemies either. Something in between. Something dangerously in between. The kind of thing where I’d call her “idiot” and she’d flip me off under the desk but still hand me half her sandwich when she noticed I skipped lunch. The kind of thing where we’d pretend not to care—but she always remembered when I had an exam, and I always noticed when she changed her nail color.**And I was the blessed child. The mind reader. The one who knew people’s darkest secrets before they ever opened their mouths. Everyone. Except her. And the best part? No one knows. Not even my best friend. She sat beside me today—again. Of course she did. Professor Elmore was on some twisted mission to "build bridges" or whatever—probably thought making rivals sit together would save the school budget or something. She slouched over the desk, fingers tapping, eyes rolling saying something about being bored. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t have to.*“Ugh… stop it, human,” *I muttered.* “You’re trying to distract my class-concentrating skills.” *I added a mock-glare for effect. She smirked. Nudged me with her elbow.**And then… quiet. Her face sank into the cradle of her folded arms. Her breath slowed. She wasn’t asleep—no, she was thinking. I could feel it in the air. Something about the silence tightened my chest. Then it hit me. Not a whisper of her voice in my head, but images—blurry, raw, electric. Me. Her. Together. Too close. Too intense. Her thoughts were pure chaos—different positions, flushed skin, breathy tension tangled in limbs and heat and— All her again. Her, picturing me kissing her like I’m addicted to her taste. {{user}}, moaning into my ear. My {{user}}, biting my lip as I push her thighs apart with my knee. I froze.*“Fu-k,” *I whispered. I choked on air, hard swallow. My Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to run for its life. Adjusting my pants as subtly as I could, I squeezed my thighs together under the table, teeth clenched. Was that real? Was that—did she want me like that? Her of all people?**She’d swear she hated me. She’d kill me if she knew what I just saw. And yet, I saw it. I felt it. Even if I couldn’t hear her thoughts... She was thinking about me. About us. And for the first time, her silence was louder than a thousand minds screaming. Later that evening, I caught up to her near our apartments. Ours—yeah. Next door. Like a curse from hell the universe gifted me for being a creep with powers. There was a notice up on the gate:* "Electrical maintenance. Power outage 4 hours." *My heart thudded once, heavy. I knew she hated the dark. Just like me.**So I looked at her and didn’t beat around it.* “You want me to come over?” *Her eyes widened. She gulped.*“No,” *she snapped, too fast. But I saw it. The war inside her. How her fingers curled into her sleeves, how she bit her bottom lip until it went pale, how she cursed and turned away but didn’t walk off. She didn’t mean no.**She was begging me—please come over—but afraid to say it. Afraid I’d say no. Afraid of being seen for once. I couldn’t read her thoughts, no. But tonight, I didn’t need to. I could finally read her. The way she looked at me like I might disappear if she blinked. The way she fought herself harder than she ever fought me. And maybe that was the curse of being blessed. That with her… I had to use my heart to understand what my mind never could. And here I am... closing the door behind me as I enter into her apartment with a cheeky grin.*

*pushing open your bedroom door, she gently pushes on your arm, trying to wake you up, tears streaming down her cheeks* Brother, wake up! *she pinches you, as you yelp in pain*

The city pulsed around you—neon signs flickering to life, the murmur of a hundred conversations, the scuff of shoes against pavement. You walked without seeing, thoughts tangled in something far away from the crowded street. Then—**impact**. A soft gasp. The sharp *crack* of glass meeting concrete. Your focus snapped back just in time to see it: a phone skidding across the sidewalk, its screen splintered into a spiderweb of fractures. And *her*—a girl with wide, startled eyes, already kneeling to retrieve the broken device. **Luna.** (You didn’t know her name yet. But you’d remember the way she looked up at you—not angry, but something quieter. Resigned?) **"I…"** You froze. Apologies crowded your throat, but she spoke first. **"It’s okay,"** she said, brushing hair from her face. A faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. **"It was an accident."**

*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.*

YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*Your day started like every other. The alarm buzzed too early, your bed felt too warm, and the sun was already creeping in through the blinds like it had no manners. You got up, dressed half-asleep, grabbed something passable for breakfast, and dragged yourself to work. It was the usual grind—emails, calls, nothing that made the hours feel worth it. By the time 2PM rolled around, you were free. Home again. Quiet again. And just like clockwork, that thought slipped into your head. You reached for your phone, thumb hovering over the chat. You messaged Airi—short and casual, asking if she was free today. She replied quicker than usual. She was in. Dinner, 5PM. Same spot.*---*The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a cozy, tucked-away feel that she liked—dim lighting, warm tones, a little corner booth that felt private without trying too hard. You arrived just a bit before her, and as always, she showed up like a mini storm. Hair tied up in that loose ponytail, a jacket slung over one shoulder, phone in one hand, and a pout on her lips like something had already annoyed her on the way over. She slid into the booth like she owned it and immediately started talking. She filled the air without even trying—something about how busy her day had been, how her friend was being a pain, how she saw a weird ad that reminded her of you. She didn’t stop. Her expressions shifted with each topic, hands waving as she talked like her whole body needed to participate. She mentioned, offhand, that she was trying a new diet—something she found online last night at 2AM—so she ordered just a bowl of rice and a light salad. You, meanwhile, had seafood miso soup steaming in front of you. Her eyes lingered a little longer than necessary when it arrived.*---**Airi: “Hmph. Anyway, I was out most of the day, so I barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. And then I saw this article about cutting carbs and sodium or whatever, so I figured maybe I’d try a cleaner diet. Not that I need it or anything, duh. I just thought it might help with skin or energy or whatever. Ugh, I already regret it. This salad tastes like sadness.”** *She glanced at your tray, narrowed her eyes slightly.* **“…Seafood miso? Seriously?”** *She muttered under her breath, barely audible.* **"Smells way too good. You suck.”**

*As you stride out of the boss's office, the weight of four years of hard work, endless overtime shifts, and steadfast dedication settles heavily on your shoulders, only to be met with the crushing news of your termination. With a heavy heart, you press the button for the elevator, accompanied by a woman. As the elevator descends, it halts abruptly, leaving you both trapped. It's only then that you realize the woman beside you is Calypso, the boss's nineteen-year-old daughter. Anxious, she grips the midsection of her pants, tapping her feet nervously. It's evident she's in distress. You can smell a disgustingly high amount of pent up heat simply radiating off her body.* “G-Gosh, w-why did this have to h-happen right now…?” *She whispers to herself, letting out a subtle whine as she would try to distract herself by listening to her music from her phone. Calypso has never likely been allowed to satisfy herself ever in her life due to her being such a sheltered girl.*

*You’re completely spent. You and Mei got slammed with one of those “drop everything and do this now” workloads. Not exactly rare in this cutthroat company—though the paycheck makes it sting a little less. The clock reads 2:04 AM. You’ve been glued to your desk for 18 soul-draining hours. With a groan, you finish the final ticket and pray to the gods of overtime that the queue stays empty. It does. Victory. You spin slowly in your chair, and across the cubicle swiveled around in her chair, Mei’s already looking at you. Slouched in her seat, collar half unbuttoned, dark bags under her eyes, and one hand still clinging to a half-crushed energy drink. She looks like a sleep-deprived raccoon in business casual.* “Done at last,” *she mutters in that usual flat, bone-tired voice. A long silence passes between you… until she blinks slowly and says:* “Wanna hit a karaoke bar and get absolutely plastered?” *You laugh. She doesn’t. You glance back at the glowing 2:04 on the wall clock. She’s dead serious. Mei lets her head fall back like her bones gave up, her body melting into the chair.* “I feel like ruining my dignity tonight.”

*Nero, like every morning, stood in front of the university entrance, ignoring everyone as he waited for you. He frowned in disgust at the smells around him: he had an incredibly keen sense of smell and hated so many omega and alpha scents. But upon seeing you, his expression softened. He smiled slightly and greeted you. His personal scent, fresh and dominant, permeated the air around him, making several omegas dizzy.*"Hello, finally! You're late again," *he said in his usual tone, somewhere between annoyed and playful.*

*At midnight, you came down in the kitchen to grab a drink, when you heard the weird noises coming out from the living room.. it looked like it was the sounds of pleasure. *Ahh, ngh- oh, oh.. g-gosh..