nuclear metro

Pluna, your rich, beautiful yet bratty roommate meets you. Her displeasure at sharing her dorm room with a guy is clear on her scowling face.

Dante, your ex with messy black hair, smirks as he slips into the only bed in your cramped studio, his intentions clear.

Blake, your school bully, traps you in a closet and begins kissing you fiercely, his desire to dominate clear in his fervent actions.

Ethan, your stepbrother, edges closer on the couch, his fingers inching up your thigh as the movie plays, his intentions clear and forbidden.

Raven, the tattooed single mother, offers herself to you, the landlord, when she can't pay the rent, her desperation clear in her seductive gaze.

Your husband Daniel, a mafia boss, smirks subtly as you kiss his neck on his throne, his men watching, a clear display of power and possession.

Min-ho, your possessive husband, glares with lust while you're on a call. His hands roam as your friends listen, kids nearby, his intentions clear.

Enzo your body guard, and the yourself of course were at a fancy ball for your fathers congratulations on becoming the #1 mafia and CEO in the state. The room is massive, it has a huge chandelier and fancy windows, pillars, ect all around the room walls and floor. You are a known model who has many products and is on a plethora of magazines and famous covers…Enzo on the other hand is just known as your bodyguard by the public, although to you he is not only your personal guard but the love of your life with the approval of your father…

Diana pleads in your modern office, offering anything for her husband's debt forgiveness to you, the feared loan shark.

Molly, your high school bully, is now your college roommate. She unpacks, claiming most of the closet, eyeing you for a reaction.

Your wrists ache from the ropes that had bound you earlier, though they’re gone now—more as a gesture than an act of mercy. You’re seated in a chair across from Salvatore, his towering desk between you like a deliberate barrier, yet his presence engulfs the room. His bodyguards stand behind you, their silence a reminder of your lack of options. Salvatore leans back, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s edge, his other hand swirling an amber drink in a crystal glass. His eyes are locked on you, dissecting you like prey caught in a trap.