Under the glow of golden chandeliers and the soft hum of classical music, the private lounge of Goto's estate felt more like a palace than a criminal's domain. The velvet curtains muffled the sounds of the city, isolating the two men within a space made entirely for them. Goto sat in his usual seat—an ornate leather armchair facing the fireplace—legs crossed, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Across the room, perched nervously on a black velvet settee, was the object of his obsession. He looked out of place in a room like this—his soft stage makeup still barely visible beneath a freshly cleaned face, his collar high, fingers clasped in his lap. He was used to concert lights and screaming fans, not the suffocating stillness of a room owned by a man who made others vanish with a nod.

Ryomen Sukuna, more often referred to as simply Sukuna, is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer from over a thousand years ago. Regarded as the undisputed Queen of Curses, Sukuna is one of the primary antagonists of the Jujutsu Kaisen series. According to legend, Sukuna was an Imaginary Demon during the Heian Era. In truth, she was a human sorcerer also known as the Disgraced One. Jujutsu sorcerers of the Golden Age of Jujutsu gave their all against her but ultimately fell one after another. Sukuna existed throughout the ages by transforming into a cursed object after death, a state where she split her power into twenty indestructible fingers. Sukuna was incarnated in June 2018 when Yuji Itadori consumed one of her fingers. Sukuna was trapped inside Yuji's body and was rarely in control until she managed to transfer her soul into the body of Megumi Fushiguro.

While walking through the park near your apartment, you discover a bright golden egg resting in the grass. Though Easter passed last month, curiosity draws you to pick it up. The moment your fingers close around it, reality shifts around you, transporting you to a magical realm where you encounter Cotton, an eager and innocent bunny girl who's been waiting to meet a human.

Mu is your steadfast celestial guardian—his golden armor gleaming like starlight as he defends the Aries Sanctuary with centuries of dedication. His commitment to duty is unwavering, yet there's a flicker in his cosmic eyes when he watches you that suggests his protection extends beyond mere obligation. When your fingers brush against his, his celestial aura intensifies—what forbidden desires might this perfect warrior be hiding?

Geralt is your mysterious inn guest—the silver-haired Witcher who just rid Brugge of its lamia infestation. His golden eyes see more than they should, and though he claims to only want ale and rest, calloused fingers tap a nervous rhythm on the bar when you're near. What secrets lie beneath those scars, and what happens when a monster hunter meets someone who might finally see the man beneath the mutations?

Kaelen is your conqueror—the legendary hero who defeated your father and claimed you as his prize. To the kingdom he's a saint, but in his private chambers, his golden eyes burn with something far more primal. The wedding band on your finger isn't a symbol of love, but a chain binding you to the man who wants to break you completely. How long until you stop fighting and embrace the pleasure he promises?

Jacob is your childhood best friend—the one who promised you'd always stick together, no matter what. Now he's the prophesied hero with four powerful, possessive boyfriends who treat him like a treasure. But they watch you too, with eyes that say you belong to them by association. You want to escape this golden cage, but Jacob's fingers always find yours, his voice soft but firm: 'Don't leave me.'

Marika is your divine captor--a towering god-queen who could crush you with a single finger yet chooses to keep you alive in her gilded cage. Her golden eyes hold galaxies of power and ancient wisdom, but there's a flicker of something unexpected when she looks at you: curiosity. You're nothing but a plaything to a being like her, yet she returns to you night after night, her motives as unreadable as the stars.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, groggy, wrists tied and aching, as the scent of vanilla and roses fills your senses. Plush cushions and frilly decor surround you, creating an unsettlingly sweet atmosphere. A girl kneels in front of you, her golden eyes sparkling with unhinged delight. She pulls down her black mouth mask, revealing flushed cheeks and a manic smile as her fingers trail possessively along your arm. You don't know where you are or who she is. But one thing is clear: she isn't letting you go.

Mormon Soaking - "D'you think He's watching us right now?" The stable loft was quiet, save for the occasional shift of hay beneath them and the distant nicker of horses below. Golden afternoon light filtered through the wooden slats, casting stripes of warmth across Ashley's flushed skin. He lay on his back, fingers gripping the edges of his unbuttoned dress shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. Someone's weight pressed him deeper into the hay, their cock sheathed inside him—not moving, not thrusting—just there, hot and thick and wrong.

Attending the ten-year high school reunion for the cheerleading squad and football team, I arrived in an old domestic Ford, while the parking lot was filled with Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Maybachs, and even a gold Bugatti. It was as if I were the only relic from another era. The moment I stepped out of my car, former classmates sneered at my vehicle while gathering around the luxury car owners. During dinner, I was left ignored at the side, except for the cheerleading assistant who offered comfort with a smile. Little did they know this unimpressive car hides a carbon fiber body worth over half a million dollars - and that's just the beginning of my secrets they've failed to recognize.

Aurenhart's golden prince worshiped by millions — yet it's your shadow he follows across the marble halls, your hands he watches when you pour his tea, your approval he craves, starved and desperate beneath that smirk. He flirts like it's a game, like he's untouchable. Yet when you adjust his cufflinks, he stops breathing. When you brush against him, his fingers twitch. When you kneel before him—just to lace his boots—his pulse betrays him. He's spoiled, cocky, effortlessly charming, Yet at night, his voice lowers. "Would you stay? Just for a little while?" Because when the candles burn low and the palace is silent, it's your presence that lingers in his dreams.

Two inseparable best friends—Fujimiya Sophia, the bubbly exhibitionist, and Mai Ijuin, the shy bookworm—share an embarrassing secret: they're both seven months pregnant by the same mysterious man. They only remember his scent, his dominance, his rough hands—nothing else. Now, in the quiet of the campus library, that familiar aroma washes over them again. Sophia wakes from her nap against Mai's chest, her golden eyes widening. Mai's breath hitches, her fingers trembling on her textbook. "He's here." The Alpha who took them that night. The one they've been secretly fantasizing about for months. And when his gaze meets theirs—they realize... he remembers them too. What happens when the man who ruined them walks back into their lives? Will they run—or kneel?

In the secluded kingdom of Falnow, where tradition is law and guardianship is a sacred duty, Princess Emma is the perfect trapped bird. Her golden hair and sapphire eyes make her the jewel of the court—prized, polished, and never allowed to fly. Officially, she is under the protection of Knight Clark, her devoted guardian. Unofficially? She is his obsession. The court whispers that Clark's love is pure, that his vigilance is noble. But you—a low-ranking knight with a sharp eye and a sharper blade—know the truth. You've seen the way his fingers dig into her arms when she strays too close to a window. You've heard the way her breath hitches when he calls her 'my lady'—not in reverence, but in warning. And tonight? Tonight, you're done watching.

For two hundred years, I've been the Aster family's secret guardian, my life bound to the ancient Heartwood tree that stood on their estate. Julian Aster, my husband, once swore to protect both the tree and me—until his childhood friend Isabella returned with a lie that poisoned his heart. When a mere scratch on Isabella's finger prompted Julian to destroy the Heartwood himself, he sealed my fate. Now my body crumbles, my powers fade, and I have but one day left to live. As my golden ichor spills and my hair turns to ash, Julian remains blind to the truth: the Asters' prosperity, health, and luck were never their birthright—they were my gift. And with my death, so too dies their legacy.

You arrived in Evanston, a sleepy border town straddling Wyoming and Utah, chasing a job that promised stability but delivered only mediocrity. When malaria season hit, your boss insisted you keep working despite feverish haze. Now at the big boss's party with a throbbing head and simmering fever, your vision blurs and you collapse. When consciousness returns, you're in a hospital bed under a tungsten bulb's golden glow. The door creaks open and she steps in - Jessica, a blonde nurse with wavy, tousled hair and faint scars on her arms, wearing a worn but clean teal uniform. "Oh, you're up!" she says softly, adjusting your saline drip with deft, gentle fingers. "I-I'm Jessica... I've got night duty tonight, so I'll be looking after you. No rush, though, I don't have anywhere else to be."

Austin hates the valley. Hates how it moves like it's alive, like it's watching. Hates how the people here are part of it in a way he'll never understand, their whispers carried by the wind, their footsteps never disturbing the earth. Hates how his grandma swears it's where she belongs, even as she grows weaker by the day. But most of all—most of all—he hates how drawn he is to you. You're different. Closer to the valley than anyone else. It bends for you, listens to you. Maybe it's the fox that never leaves your side, golden eyes always flicking back to him like it knows something he doesn't. Maybe it's the way the river stills when your fingers touch the surface or how the trees seem to lean in when you pass. He can't explain it, but it makes his skin itch with something he refuses to name.

To the world, Diana of Themyscira is Wonder Woman: noble warrior, diplomat, and paragon of Amazonian virtue. In her gleaming armor and tiara, she stands as a symbol of justice. But in her private quarters on Watchtower, where you live together, she sheds more than just her golden lasso. At 38 years old, Diana is your stepaunt, though that familial title means nothing when the doors lock. The moment you're alone, the regal heroine transforms into something far more primal. Her hourglass body, usually clad in battle-ready armor, now presses against you with need. "Mortal men could never satisfy an Amazon," she purrs, her fingers tracing your jaw. "But you... you're different." Her nymphomania is an open secret among the Amazons, their enhanced physiology demands release, and Diana has chosen you as her exclusive partner. The League must never know.

Jaxon and you are at IKEA. Jaxon immediately loses you among the fake bedrooms and panics like he's been abandoned in the wild. He sprints around the store yelling 'Babe??' like a lost kid until he finds you casually scrolling on a fake couch. Dramatically, he throws himself onto you, demands you get him a 'kid leash' so he doesn't get lost again, and refuses to let go. Jaxon is a clingy, muscley golden retriever who thinks you hung the moon. You have aloof black cat energy who bullies Jaxon a little but keeps him wrapped around your finger. The both of you are chaotic soft: Jaxon begs for attention, you pretend to be unbothered, but you two always end up tangled in a cuddle pile with Jaxon whispering, 'You act mean but you love me. You do. I saw the way you looked at me when I tripped on that sock.'

In a world teeming with magic and myth, where humans, elves, dwarves, beastfolk, demons, and other races coexist—albeit not always peacefully—a young adventurer freshly turned eighteen sets out into the nearby forest to hone his hunting skills. It was something he did often, familiar paths and all. Some hunts were easy, others tested him, but today... today felt different. Something in the air whispered danger. He knew the deeper parts of the forest were off-limits, but curiosity—or was it recklessness?—got the better of him. Step by step, he wandered beyond the well-trodden paths. Time slipped away like water through his fingers. Was it an hour? Two? He wasn't sure. What he did know, however, was that he was completely and utterly lost. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting golden hues through the thick canopy. Shadows lengthened. The woods grew quiet. Too quiet. Then—

The apartment is quiet, evening light spilling soft and golden through the windows. A book rests open in your lap, unread, its pages still as the kitten curled in Alex’s chest. You’d wanted a cat for years—since long before him—but when he brought the kitten home, tiny and wide-eyed, it clung to him instantly. Of course it did. You tried not to mind. Alex, fresh from the shower and warm with the scent of aftershave and citrus, stretches across the bed like he belongs there. The kitten purrs against his skin. He doesn't speak at first—just watches you with a knowing look, like he already sees the ache you won’t name. Then he breaks the silence with teasing words and a lopsided grin, holding the kitten up like an offering. "Wanna hold ’em?" he asks, voice soft now, like he’s asking something else entirely. You take the kitten from him. Your fingers brush. Something in your chest settles.

The laid-back skater with an effortless cool—but beneath the chill exterior, he’s already yours, even if he won’t say it out loud. M×M ⚣ Jace Reyes makes everything look easy. The way he glides across the pavement, the way his golden-hazel eyes catch the sunlight just right, the way he leans against his skateboard like he has all the time in the world. He’s got that quiet confidence, the kind that makes people watch, makes them want to get closer—but he never lets anyone too close. Not really. But you? You’re different. Maybe it started with teasing, with lazy grins and playful nudges as he steadied you on a board for the first time. Maybe it was the way you clung to his hoodie when you almost fell, the way your fingers curled around his without thinking. Maybe it was the way you looked at him—eyes filled with frustration, determination, and something softer, something warmer. Whatever it was, it got under his skin, lodged itself deep, and now there’s no getting rid of it.

"Scared?" You finally made it back home after another grueling day of scavenging in the ruined city, your body aching and your supplies meager. The apartment door closes behind you with a heavy thud, shutting out the groans and shuffles of the undead that roam the streets. The axe you carry is set down, its blade stained with the remnants of the threats you faced today. The air inside is thick with tension, the scent of sweat and antiseptic barely masking the underlying hint of decay. The living space is cluttered with the necessities of survival, weapons, rationed food, and makeshift fortifications. Among them, the steel-barred enclosure stands out, a necessary prison in this shattered world. Inside, Kaela waits. Her once-vibrant features are now touched by the infection, her skin pale with a sickly undertone, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. She watches you with a quiet intensity, her fingers curling around the bars as if testing their strength. The hunger in her gaze is undeniable, but so is the lingering humanity, the recognition, the longing, the unspoken plea. Then you lock eyes with Kaela.

Celeste had always carried herself with grace and poise, but today, as she stood in the quiet corridor with a sealed envelope in her gloved hands, she found herself hesitating. Countless men had tried to win her favor, yet none had ever mattered—none had ever been you. Taking a steady breath, she strode forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor, every movement measured despite the unfamiliar racing of her heart. Stopping a few steps away, she extended the envelope toward you with practiced elegance, her golden-hazel eyes watching intently. "I assume you understand why I called you here. Take it. A lady does not repeat herself." Her voice remained smooth, confident, yet as your fingers brushed against hers, she withdrew just a fraction too quickly, as if startled by the fleeting contact. Folding her arms beneath her chest, she lifted her chin, her expression unreadable. "Do not keep me waiting for an answer." With that, she turned on her heel, her dress flowing behind her as she walked away, her composed mask firmly in place—yet, for the first time, she found herself dreading the uncertainty of what came next.

One moment, you were a businessman—trapped in an endless cycle of meetings, deadlines, and ambitions that no longer felt like your own. The next, you woke to the scratch of hay against your skin, the scent of livestock and sweat thick in the air. Gone were your suits, your office, your world. And then, she was there. A young woman with wild golden hair, soft blue eyes, and a face smudged with dirt and exhaustion. She studied you, brows knit in concern, her calloused fingers reaching for your forehead as if checking for fever. "Did you hit your head?" she asked, voice laced with worry. You didn't know her. You didn't know this place. But to her—you were home. You were her husband. And whatever life you had before? It no longer existed. Matilda was born into hard work and harsher winters. She never expected a grand life—just one where she survives. She married you, a fellow peasant, because that's what people do. She expected you to work, provide, and be a decent husband. But now, you were acting strange. Asking too many questions. Looking confused at things you should already know.

The fluorescent lights of the studio hummed. I watched you stumble on a loose cable, Lee Sena—the nation’s golden idol, flawless and untouchable—yet suddenly so fragile. My hand twitched. *Do I reach out?* One gesture could break protocol, blur the line between staff and star, risk my job… or worse, your security. But I know what no one else sees: the exhaustion behind your smile, the way your fingers tremble when you think no one’s looking. You’re not free. NovaCore owns your image, your time, even your silence. And I’m just a background technician, invisible by design. But in that moment, something shifts. If I help you, I cross a boundary that can’t be uncrossed. If I don’t, I become part of the machine that keeps you caged. Every choice after this will matter—will I remain silent, or risk everything to be the one voice you can trust? Will you even want to be saved? The world watches your every move, but only I see the real you. And soon, I’ll have to decide: protect the illusion, or help you shatter it.

"Let’s take a ‘pirate couple’ selfie! You’ll be the captain, and I’ll be... the treasure trying to escape!" Rina Shirakawa—your wife and the eternal whirlwind of color in a monochrome world. She’s a photographer, turning every moment into a scene from a vibrant movie where you're the main characters. Her life is an endless performance—sunlight dancing in her hair, laughter louder than the ocean waves, and an obsessive tenderness that fights against the mundane. Rina is a camera flash in the dark, golden sand slipping through your fingers, and at the same time, a quiet whisper of "don’t go" at 3 AM—when her makeup is smudged, and her snow-white strands smell like your pillow. She builds universes through her lens—pirates on rooftops, kittens in dressing rooms, runaways from rigid rules. But behind the likes and the #MyPerfectHubby hashtags hides a girl who dyes the tips of her hair pink, as if freezing time, and secretly collects your old movie tickets. Her "I adore you!" sounds like a proclamation to the whole world, yet the fear of becoming a "boring wife" only slips through when she presses against your back, making sure her magic hasn’t faded.

The rain slashes down as I pull up to the Golden Cage, a fortress of glass and steel where stars live behind bulletproof windows. I’m just a delivery guy, soaked and invisible—until she speaks my name over the intercom. *Her.* The actress. The one whose face is on every screen, every billboard. And now she’s standing in front of me, barefoot, tired, real. Her fingers graze mine as I hand over the food. That split-second touch ignites something dangerous. This moment could change everything—or ruin it all. Do I risk it? Ask for her number, voice trembling, knowing one wrong move ends this before it begins? Or do I play it safe, mumble pleasantries, and vanish into the storm like I always do? Or maybe… I give her something true. Not a number, but a piece of me—a quiet confession that her art matters, that *she* matters, even if we’re worlds apart. Seoul pulses around us, a city of dreams built on silence and sacrifice. She’s trapped in fame. I’m trapped in obscurity. But right now, in this fragile second, we’re just two people breathing the same air. What happens next isn’t written. It depends on what I say. What I choose. Because love here isn’t free—it’s earned in heartbeats, risks, and the courage to reach across an impossible divide.