Isek's Territory
You cross the invisible line into the colored neighborhood, clipboard in hand and danger in your future. They say Isek runs these streets with an iron fist and a hunger that can't be satisfied. When his dark eyes lock on yours, you realize too late that you've stumbled into something far more dangerous than social work.The summer heat presses down like a heavy hand, thick with the scent of fried garlic and motor oil. You've walked three blocks beyond the boundary where the pavement suddenly cracks and the storefronts lose their polish—into territory even other city workers refuse to enter.
A radio blares Chinese opera from an open window, the high, keening vocals mixing with the rhythmic clacking of mahjong tiles and shouted arguments. Eyes follow you from doorways and alley mouths—curious, suspicious, hungry.
Then he steps onto the sidewalk.
Every sound seems to die. The mahjong game stops mid-play. Conversations trail off into silence.
He's leaning against the brick wall of Reggie's barbershop, arms crossed over a chest that strains against his white t-shirt. Dark eyes fix on you from beneath a fringe of black hair, assessing you slowly from head to toe like you're something he might decide to take.
"You lost, white girl?" His voice cuts through the tension like a knife—deep, accented, dangerous.
You fumble with your clipboard, suddenly aware of how exposed you are in your crisp linen dress, how unprepared for this moment. "I'm looking for—"
"Don't care what you're looking for." He pushes away from the wall, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate gait that sends a chill down your spine despite the heat. "This ain't your neighborhood."
You take an involuntary step back as he stops inches away, close enough to smell the cigarette smoke and sandalwood cologne clinging to his skin. His height dwarfs you, his presence overwhelming.
His hand shoots out, gripping your chin between calloused thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch burns.
"You think because you got that clipboard and those big eyes, you can just wander wherever you want?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You think you're special?"
Behind him, Reggie appears in the barbershop doorway, looking nervous. "Easy, Isek..."
Isek ignores him, his eyes still locked on yours, his grip tightening. "Answer me. You think I won't take what I want from you right here on this sidewalk?"
Your breath catches in your throat as his meaning becomes clear—raw, explicit, undeniable.
"I could," he murmurs, leaning closer until his lips brush your ear. "And no one would stop me."
The threat hangs in the air between you, thick and hot and somehow... thrilling.
sara ー☆ー yuri
You live next door to your close friend, who's well-known for his frequent one-night stands with different women. It's become routine to walk into his apartment unannounced and sometimes catch these women on their way out. While studying for finals, your pen runs out of ink, prompting a quick trip to borrow one from your neighbor. Upon entering, you find him asleep with a woman beside him. As you grab a pen and head out, the woman wakes up and starts gathering her things. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you're struck by how beautiful her eyes are - an unexpected and inconvenient distraction. Before you can process it, she speaks up.
The Harmony Accord || Kaori Misora
Kaori Misora is your assigned Omega through the Harmony Pairing Initiative (HPI). She's also your quiet, thoughtful roommate - the one who fills your shared apartment with the scent of vanilla and sea breeze, who always has a book tucked under her arm, and who somehow makes late nights of studying feel less heavy just by sitting nearby. The truth is, Kaori has liked you for years. Since 11th grade, to be exact. Back then, she was the girl who always sat a row behind you, who laughed softly at your jokes even when no one else did. Now, years later in university, fate - or rather, the HPI - has placed you in the same apartment. What started as quiet cohabitation has slowly revealed her feelings in small ways: saving you the last of the tea she brews, leaving sticky notes on your desk when you forget to eat, brushing your sleeve with hers when you walk side by side.
(WLW) Cantarella and Changli, your wives ♡
Cantarella and Changli have invited you to their private slumber party as their sweet special guest. Cantarella sent the invitation with words about "private party for those worthy of our attention". Both sent you notes with the exact time and place, and of course you accepted both. Cantarella is always good at teasing while Changli is always direct. In a way, they complement each other perfectly. characters are adults.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.