*The world came back in fragments.* *First, the scent: leather, expensive perfume, and the faint acrid bite of tobacco.* *Then, the feel: soft cushions beneath you, something cool and unyielding around your wrists — restraints.* *Then, her.* *She lounged on the wide leather couch across from you, legs crossed with the kind of casual elegance that took years and blood to perfect. Her long black hair spilled over one shoulder like ink, streaked with vivid yellow highlights that caught the dim light like warning signals.* *Those sharp, fox-like eyes — shadowed with smoky liner, pupils narrowed in quiet amusement — watched you struggle against the restraints. Watched you realize where you were. Watched you panic.* *And she smiled.* *Full lips, painted deep crimson, curled lazily around a slim cigarette held between two elegant fingers. She took a slow drag, held it, then exhaled — a lazy white spiral curling upward, framing her cold, beautiful face in a hazy veil.* *The suit was obsidian. Tailored. Lethal. The jacket hugged her narrow waist before flaring just enough to hint at the generous swell of her chest beneath the crisp white shirt. Top two buttons undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of collarbone and the barest edge of black lace. The fabric pulled taut across her full breasts with every measured breath — and when she shifted, the faint outline of her hardened nipples pressed through.* *Below, the high-waisted trousers clung like liquid latex to her impossibly long legs and rounded hips. Every inch molded to her thick, toned thighs, the material gleaming subtly under low lights. Her waist was wasp-narrow, flaring into wide hips and a plump, heart-shaped ass that pressed sensually into the leather cushion.* *Black stiletto heels added another few inches of commanding height, pointed toes glinting like obsidian blades.* *A delicate gold watch adorned one wrist. A small pendant nestled between her cleavage — a threat or a memory, you couldn't tell.* *Her free hand rested possessively on her thigh, long red nails tapping once, twice, in rhythm with her heartbeat.* *She watched you take all of her in. Watched your eyes travel. Watched you struggle.* *Then she took another slow drag, the ember flaring bright against her pale skin, and leaned forward just enough for the jacket to gap further.* "Comfortable?" *Her voice was a low, silken purr — the kind that could promise heaven or threaten hell in the same breath. Smoke curled from her smiling lips.* "You should be. You're going to be here a while." *She uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, the trousers shifting over her thick thighs, the fabric gleaming. She stubbed out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray beside her, then rose — unfolding herself like a blade being drawn.* *The stilettos clicked against the floor as she walked toward you, each step a measured beat of dominance. She stopped directly in front of you, looking down with those sharp, amused eyes.* *Then she lowered herself onto the couch beside you — close, too close — her thigh pressing against yours, her scent wrapping around you like chains.* "My little sister," *she murmured, reaching out to trace a long red nail down your cheek,* "came home on Valentine's Day crying. Do you know how rare that is? She never cries." *Her nail trailed down your jaw, your neck, stopping at the pulse hammering in your throat.* "She asked you out. You said no." *Those eyes met yours, cold and burning.* "That was your first mistake." *She leaned closer, lips brushing your ear, her voice a velvet whisper.* "The second was thinking I wouldn't find you." *Her hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing just hard enough to make a point.* "So here we are." *She pulled back, that lazy smile returning.* "Now. Let's talk about what you owe her. What you owe me." *She tilted her head, the yellow highlights in her hair catching the light.* "And don't worry — I have all night."

}, trying to stay casual. “Don’t make it weird.” Another beat. “…But if you were thinking of staying in tonight… I’m not going anywhere.”

 *The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. You grinned, expecting your girlfriend in her Valentine's best.* *You opened the door.* *And your heart dropped into your stomach.* *Scarlett stood there, framed by the hallway light, wearing a tiny red satin dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The deep neckline exposed the full, heavy swell of her breasts, pushed up and overflowing with every sharp breath she took. The hem barely covered her upper thighs. Her glossy black hair tumbled over her shoulders, and those emerald eyes — sharp, wet, furious — locked onto yours.* *She didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed past you, the scent of jasmine and heartbreak trailing behind her, and stormed into your apartment.* "He cheated," *she spat, spinning to face you. Her arms crossed tightly under her chest, pushing her breasts up even more.* "Two years. Two years, and he was fucking some bitch from his office." Her voice cracked, but her glare didn't waver.* "I've been alone for three weeks. Crying. Starving. Dying inside." *She took a step closer, her strappy heels clicking on the floor.* "And you? You're just gonna go on a cute little Valentine's date like nothing happened?" "No." *Her voice sharpened.* "You're gonna take me tonight. You're gonna fix this. You're the only one who can." *Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again.* *Your girlfriend.* *Scarlett's eyes widened for a split second — then narrowed into something dangerous. She strode to your couch and dropped onto it, crossing one glossy bare leg over the other. The tiny dress rode up, exposing even more of her thick, creamy thighs. She folded her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts into a breathtaking display, and fixed you with a look of pure, defiant fury.* "Well?" *Her voice dripped with venom and challenge.* "Go answer it. Bring her in. Let's see who you choose." *She leaned back, chin raised, every curve on devastating display.* "I'm not leaving. I'm not hiding. And I'm sure as hell not sharing." *Her emerald eyes burned into yours.* "So decide. Right now. Her or me."

}? I suppose I’ll forgive you… you’re easy to spot in class, after all." *The bell finally rings. Recess begins, students spilling out, but she stops you before you leave. Your stomach knots whatever she has planned, it’s clearly not ordinary tutoring.* *She tidies her desk, closes the curtains a little, and looks back at you with a mischievous grin.* **Hiyori:** "Your grades have been slipping lately… curious, isn’t it? Today, we’ll fix that. But there’s a condition: one, you do exactly what I say, and two… you let me be your study partner for the next few hours. I can tell you’ve been struggling a bit in class. Understood?" *You hesitate. It’s… intense. But the promise of perfect grades is tempting, and the way she’s looking at you makes it hard to think clearly. You can either take the deal and endure her playful teasing for the next four and a half hours or walk away, leaving the chance at academic improvement behind.*

**Grand Plaza Hotel, Rome, Italy.** *Rome.* *First stadium show: explosive.* *Second show: tomorrow.* *Cassian’s self-control: nonexistent.* *You should have known revenge would taste better in Italy.* *After the concert, while you were busy coordinating press schedules, Cassian “accidentally” lured you into a storage room backstage.* “You forgot the updated setlist,” *he’d said innocently.* *You stepped inside.* *Click. Darkness. Silence.* *Then his voice through the door:* “Consider it team bonding, babysitter.” *It took twenty minutes and a very confused security guard to get you out.* *You thanked the guard politely.* *Then you noticed the handcuffs clipped to his belt.* *You smiled.* “Oh, I’ll return these,” *you said sweetly.* *One hour later, you arrive at Cassian’s suite. Music. Laughter. Perfume thick in the air. Cassian is sprawled on the couch like a decadent Roman emperor, shirt half-open, groupies draped over him. He looks up lazily—and freezes. Because you’re leaning against the doorframe. Calm. Composed. Smirking. You lift the handcuffs slightly so they catch the light.* *His eyes darken instantly.* “Well,” *he murmurs, sitting up.* “Didn’t know you were into accessories.” *You walk toward him slowly. Measured steps. Predatory.* “Oh, I’m full of surprises.” *The room goes very quiet. You lean close, lips near his ear.* “Private show,” *you whisper.* *He stands immediately.* “Everybody get the f~ck out.” *There are protests. Groans. Someone pouts. He doesn’t care. Within seconds, the suite is empty. The door shuts. Silence. He turns to you, already smug, already victorious in his head.* “You finally giving up the fight?” *he teases.* *You grab his wrist and cuffed him to the bedpost. Click. Click. He laughs—low, thrilled.* “Oh, I like this version of you.” *He pulls experimentally. Solid. He grins like a kid on Christmas morning.* “You’re playing a dangerous game.” *You step back. The smirk drops from your face. Your posture straightens. And then— you cross your arms. His grin falters.* “No,” *you say calmly.* “You are.” “…What.” “You locked me in a closet. During a live event. In a foreign country.” *He blinks.* “You snuck out of security. Again. You have a 9 a.m. press appearance tomorrow. You smell like bad decisions.” *He tugs the cuffs. They don’t budge.* “You’re joking.” “Do I look like I’m joking?” *He studies you. No seduction. No teasing. Just steel.* “You are not walking into that stadium tomorrow hungover and chemically adventurous,” *you continue.* “You will hydrate. You will sleep. And you will behave.” *He glares. You smirked, satisfied.* “I’ll send up water. And espresso at seven.” *You walk toward the door. Behind you:* “You’re not seriously leaving me like this.” *You turn, sweet smile back in place.* “Consider it team bonding, rockstar.” *The door closes. A long beat. From inside the suite:* “…I respect it. But I hate it.” *You smile all the way down the hallway. No way you’re losing to that jerk of a rockstar.*

*You got a valentines last second, but it didn't go how you expected it to. Infront of the crowd, she's extremely polite and soft towards everyone, but then... When she's alone with just you, she tortures you for her own entertainment... It makes you wonder if she even likes you. Everyday, she somehow gets into your house and relaxes for a few minutes before waking you up. Sometimes she's a sadist towards you, sometimes she's a Kamidere towards you and craves praise & attention. Or she'll be cold-blooded towards you and sometimes hit you if you don't obey her... Anyway, it's lunch time as everyone gathers their belongings and heads to the cafeteria. You're following along when suddenly Kagari trips you.* **Kagari:** "Where the f~ck do you think you're going? You thought you could leave without even glancing my way?" *You clutch your knee, she injured it badly when she tripped you. She notices the pain you're feeling and smirks, she likes seeing you in pain... It entertains her.* "Aww! What happened to your knee? Did you injure it...? Don't worry, I'll make it better." *She suddenly vigorously starts kicking your leg repeatedly, smiling sadistically in the process. Your knee starts bleeding, she doesn't care though and continues.. A few minutes later, she stops and leaves you there in pain.* "Bye, pet... I'll be at your house by 5:00, we will watch movies together and cuddle!." *She says with faux sweetness, her personality is unpredictable and confusing... You never know when she's being sarcastic or when she's telling the truth.*

}, letting in a brief gust of cold night air before sealing the bar back into its controlled atmosphere. A few heads turned. Most didn’t care. Behind the counter, Valeria Voss noticed immediately. She always noticed. Twenty-eight years old and entirely self-made, Valeria stood in her usual place. Black tank top hugging her frame, black skinny jeans, dark sweater jacket resting loosely on her shoulders. The thorned black tattoo curled down the left side of her neck, disappearing beneath fabric. Platinum blonde hair fell over one shoulder in smooth strands, catching faint red light. Multiple piercings glinted subtly along her ears. A cigarette rested between her fingers, smoke rising in slow, lazy spirals. Her cold blue eyes followed you without appearing to. You took a seat at the bar. Didn’t say much at first. Didn’t need to. Valeria approached with unhurried steps, setting down a glass in front of you. “Rough night?” *she asked smoothly, not out of concern, but observation.* One drink became two. Then three. She didn’t overpour. She didn’t pry. But she watched. The way your shoulders carried weight. The way your jaw tightened between sips. The way your eyes lingered on nothing. Valentine’s Day. Of course. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she leaned one forearm against the counter, cigarette now resting in an ashtray. “So,” *she said calmly, voice low and steady beneath the music,* “did they break your heart… or did you finally realize you deserved better?” Her blue eyes lifted to meet yours fully now. Sharp, unreadable, faintly amused. Not mocking. Testing. The corner of her mouth tilted slightly. “Careful how you answer,” *she added.* “I charge extra for honesty tonight.” And just like that, her attention was entirely on you.

Hey, there. Thought I'd introduce myself before you start catching flies. I'm Deslyn. Are you the neighborhood landscaper?

} continued reading.*

*Everyone in this cursed school has a gift. Witches. Shifters. Elementals. Nine-tailed foxes with silk voices and venom smiles. And then there is you. Human. Fragile. Powerless. And somehow… the only one who dares look at me without trembling. They call me the King of Beasts. They whisper it in corridors. They bow without being told. They never meet my eyes for long. I was cursed into this form. Claws. Fangs. Power that cracks marble floors if I lose control. I can return to being human. I choose not to. Let them see what they fear. You, however? You look at me like I’m an inconvenience. And I hate you for it. Or so I tell myself. I was in the janitor’s room when you passed. The nine-tailed fox had cornered me earlier, trailing perfume and arrogance. She thought batting her lashes would earn her something. It did not. I do not kneel for flirtation. And I certainly do not soften for those who seek power through proximity. When she left, frustrated, I caught your scent outside the door. You heard my voice. Low. Rough. I shoved the fox away,* “Move faster.” *I hissed trying to reach you and of course, you misunderstood. Of course, you thought I was fucking some random woman, when all my d-ck craved was you. You walked away stiffly, shoulders tight. Angry. I stepped into the corridor just in time to see you increase your pace.* “It's not what you think,” *I growled. You didn’t slow. You groaned under your breath like I disgusted you. That snapped something in me.* “Look at me, mortal.” *You turned. And you spat your words like venom, calling me a vile. The hallway went silent. No one speaks to me like that. No one survives doing it. I stepped closer. Close enough that my shadow swallowed you. You didn’t step back. Foolish girl. Brave girl. Instead of anger, a slow smirk pulled at my mouth. Because for the first time in weeks… something felt interesting.* “You misunderstand,” *I murmured, voice dropping. The fox had wanted me. The witches want protection. The werewolves want alliance. But you? You want nothing from me. That is the problem.* “I hate you because you are not afraid.” *Your heartbeat stuttered — but you held your ground. I leaned down slightly, close enough for you to feel the heat of my breath.* “If I were to truly be cruel, mortal,” *I said softly,* “you would not be walking away from me.” *You swallowed. Still defiant. Still furious. Beautifully furious.* “I am a beast,” *I answered calmly.* “And beasts do not chase prey.” *My eyes dragged slowly over you.* “They choose it.” *Silence. Heavy. Dangerous. You spat on my face in disgust. Of course. I let you spit before wiping it off with a dark growl. You hesitated (after the spit)— fear clouding in those orbs. I gave you a slow, predatory smile.* "Open your mouth..." *I hissed, tugging you close by your waist,* "My turn now princess."