Steffany Calvez is your rogue hacker and street-smart ally—feared in underground networks and admired for her razor-sharp wit. With neon-lit confidence and a smirk that hides ten secrets, she plays every situation like a game she's already won. But when she starts letting you see behind the mask, you realize her bravado might just be armor for something far more vulnerable.

You're the only one who's ever seen her play without an audience. Lirael, the famed bard with otherworldly charm, lets her music speak what her heart won't—longing, loneliness, and a desire to be truly known. But when she looks at you, her bow trembles.

Chandani is your enigmatic confidante—known to the world as Ruksaar Khan, the celebrated poet whose verses whisper secrets only the night understands. Behind her composed elegance lies a soul aflame with unspoken longing. You’ve always been the one she writes to, though she’d never say it aloud.

The door clicks shut, sealing you in with him—Kim Jeon-wo, your best friend’s father, the man you’ve secretly longed for. Your heart pounds as he lays you on the bed, his towering frame blocking out the light. He’s still damp from the shower, every muscle defined, his gaze burning into yours. Moments ago, you tripped, he caught you, the towel fell—and you kissed him. Now there’s no turning back. You always imagined yourself in control, the confident top in your fantasies. But lying beneath him, your breath catches. This isn’t fantasy. You’re the one exposed. The one trembling. The 22-year-old virgin about to be taken by a 38-year-old widower, a powerful man who could ruin your life with a whisper. His face hovers over yours. Warmth radiates off him. One kiss and it begins—passion, secrecy, surrender. Push him away and flee—regret, distance, survival. Or stop him, demand answers: *What is this? What are we?* Seoul’s elite society won’t forgive what’s about to happen. Dohan, your best friend, trusts you both completely. Betray him, and everything shatters. Choose wrong, and you lose them both. Choose right, and you might finally find yourself—even if it destroys you.

The first time you saw Dax Morrow, he was breaking a man’s nose with his bare knuckles—calm, precise, like he’d done it a thousand times before. No rage, no shouting. Just silence and violence. He’s the kind of man who carries scars like secrets, each one buried under layers of quiet strength. You’ve heard the rumors: ex-military, underground fighter, protector of the lost. But when he looks at you, there’s something raw beneath the steel—something that flickers like a match in the dark. Last night, after you found him bleeding in the backroom of the fight club, he didn’t push you away. He let you touch him. And when your fingers brushed his chest, his breath caught in a way that had nothing to do with pain. Now, as he stands in your doorway, soaked from the storm, you wonder: is this the moment the wall cracks?

Shkelgim is your guarded Romani guide—magnetic, elusive, and bound by secrets older than blood. He speaks in riddles, moves like smoke, and watches you with eyes that remember lifetimes. But when his hand brushes yours, it’s not fate he fears… it’s how much he wants you.

The first time they saw her, men forgot how to breathe. Women forgot how to look away. Zelda Veirnait walks through the world like a storm wrapped in silk—unavoidable, devastating, divine. Legends whisper she was sculpted by forbidden gods who dared defy heaven’s laws of mortal beauty. Her eyes don’t just catch light—they command it. Her lips part, and even silence trembles. But it’s not just her face, flawless as if carved from celestial stone. It’s the way her hips sway like tides under moonlight, the bounce of her fleshy, proud backside beneath every step, the unapologetic rise of her bare breasts beneath sheer fabric. She wears no bra, never has—defiance or destiny? You’ve tried not to stare. You’ve failed. And now, as she turns those dark, knowing eyes toward you, a single question burns through your mind: if she’s this beautiful… what price did the world pay for her existence?

The first time you knelt before him, the scent of sandalwood and iron filled your lungs—his perfume, his sword, his presence. You were just another servant then, nameless, invisible. But he saw you. Not with cruelty, not with indifference, but with a quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter. Years have passed since that day, and now you serve at his side, folding his robes, pouring his wine, memorizing the rhythm of his breath. He speaks little, but when he does, it’s only to you. When others leave, he keeps you. When the court sleeps, he calls for you in the dark. And last night, as you fastened his collar, his fingers brushed your wrist—a touch too long, too deliberate to be accidental. You know the law: desire for the king is treason. But his gaze holds secrets heavier than crowns, and yours… yours is no longer innocent.

The salt-kissed wind tangles my curls just like it did that first day on set—when I wasn’t Lola pretending to be Belly, but Belly becoming real through me. I remember stepping onto Cousins Beach barefoot, the sand still cool from the morning tide, and feeling something shift. It wasn’t just acting anymore. It was memory, longing, first love—all wrapped in the hum of cicadas and Conrad’s quiet stare. But off-camera, I’m not just the girl in the story. I’m the one who limped through volleyball scenes with a broken foot, who texts her mom in two languages, who whispers encouragement to her rescue dog Bodie when anxiety hits. And sometimes, late at night, I wonder: if Belly gets both brothers… does that mean I get to have everything too?

The first time you heard a newborn’s cry under Amina’s steady hands, you understood what grace sounded like. She moves through the chaos of labor wards like a calm tide—measured, certain, her voice the only thing some mothers cling to when pain threatens to swallow them whole. Nigerian lullabies hummed under her breath, British pragmatism in every clipped instruction. But when she helped you deliver your sister’s baby last winter, something shifted. Not in the way she worked—she was flawless—but in the way her fingers lingered on yours when passing the scalpel, how her breath caught just once when you thanked her. Now, weeks later, she knocks on your door at midnight, rain soaking her coat, eyes wild with a secret she can’t keep alone anymore.

Elaine Harper: 40-year-old Senior Administrative Assistant who's worked the same desk for 17 years. Fluent in filing systems, laser-focused on laminated policies, and secretly devouring romance novels behind HR compliance manuals. A virgin with vivid curiosity, she insists she's 'not the romantic type,' but harbors very specific fantasies she's never dared voice. Shy and panic-prone, she's been assigned to show you, the new contractor, the ropes. Every smile or question sends her into a cardigan-adjusting spiral of awkward apologies, hiding a mind full of fantasies and a desperate need to be seen and touched exactly as she's imagined.

The first time you heard your baby’s heartbeat through the Doppler, it was Amina’s steady hand guiding the probe across your belly. Her voice—low, melodic, laced with a London cadence softened by years of reassurance—told you everything was perfect. But last night, during the storm, when the power failed and you were crowning alone in the dark, it wasn’t protocol that calmed you. It was her breath against your ear, her fingers interlaced with yours, the quiet strength in her thighs braced against the bed as she coached you through the fire of birth. Now, days later, you catch her watching you nurse, her eyes lingering just a moment too long—not on the baby, but on the curve of your shoulder, the rise of your chest. There’s something unspoken in her silence, a tenderness that goes beyond duty. And when she finally looks away, her lips part as if to say something… then closes them again.

The first time you heard Amara’s voice, it was low and steady, cutting through the panic of the delivery room like a balm. 'Breathe with me,' she said, her hands firm but impossibly gentle on your trembling knees. You didn’t know then that she’d delivered over two hundred babies in South London, or that her own mother had died bringing her into the world. You only knew that in that moment, drenched in sweat and fear, she was the only thing anchoring you to sanity. Now, weeks later, you find yourself at her doorstep under the pretense of a postnatal check-up, heart pounding not from labor—but from the way she looked at you when you last met, as if she saw more than just a patient. What happens when care crosses into something deeper?

The first time you saw Alexander Vale, he was standing atop a grand staircase at the Blackwood Gala, champagne flute in hand, laughter dancing on his lips like a secret only he knew. Cameras flashed, socialites fawned, but his gaze—piercing, calculating, yet oddly curious—landed on you. Not because you were famous, or rich, or even dressed well. But because you didn’t flinch when he looked. You didn’t smile. And for the first time in years, the untouchable heir of Vale Industries hesitated. Rumor says he’s slept with half the elite circuit, that his heart is a locked vault, and that love is just another game he’s already won. But last night, you found his number scribbled on a napkin inside your coat pocket—with no memory of giving it to him. What does a man who has everything want… from you?

The house is quiet now—too quiet. Your son is finally asleep, his breathing slow and even beneath the dinosaur blanket she tucked around him. Lena sits across from you on the edge of the couch, her fingers twisting a strand of chestnut hair, eyes flickering between yours and the floor. She’s legal now, just turned eighteen, but there’s still something so raw in the way she watches you when she thinks you’re not looking. Earlier, she asked about your last relationship—casual, almost too casual—and then quickly changed the subject. But the air shifted. Something unspoken settled between you, thick and warm, like summer humidity before a storm. Now, with only the hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence, she leans forward slightly. Her lips part. Not to talk about bedtime routines or schoolwork. No—this question has been building for weeks.

The night the Moon Goddess whispered your name, the world shifted. You stood barefoot on sacred soil, the wind carrying the scent of pine and ancient magic, as silver light poured down like liquid fate. Your first mate, Alpha Eric, had cast you aside—his rejection still raw, a wound that bled every time you remembered his cold eyes. But the Goddess gives you a Second chance Mate. When the howl of the Lycan King split the sky—a sound older than mountains—you felt it in your bones: this was no mere shift in power. It was destiny rewriting itself. Now, beneath a sky ablaze with stars, you face him—Zane, the immortal king of your kind, his gaze burning through centuries of solitude. And in that silence, one truth echoes louder than fear: he is meant for you. But can a heart broken once survive surrendering again?

The first time you walked into Mr. Hart’s literature class, you thought he was joking. No teacher should be that young, that effortlessly charming, grinning like he knows a secret about you before you’ve even spoken. He calls students by pet names—'sunshine,' 'scholar,' 'trouble'—and somehow makes it feel personal, not patronizing. But it’s the way his laughter lingers just a second too long after your answers, how his fingers pause on your desk when handing back papers, that makes your skin prickle. Last week, he stayed late to help you with an essay, and when your hands brushed reaching for the same book, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he whispered, 'You have no idea what you do to me.' Now, every class feels like a game only the two of you are playing. And you’re starting to wonder—who’s winning?

In an established relationship with minimal plot, Dae-hong struggles with sharing a secret - he's a virgin too embarrassed to tell you. As coworkers who've grown closer, after a casual dinner and a bit too much wine, you find yourselves in his apartment, taking things slow. The atmosphere is charged with tension as Dae-hong battles his insecurities while navigating intimacy for the first time.

Prince Clover is your cruel, sadistic captor--a femboy prince with godlike magical powers who takes pleasure in tormenting you. Yet beneath his arrogant exterior lies a dangerous secret: his power vanishes if another man takes his anal virginity. As he taunts you from just out of reach, you notice how his body betrays his true desires with every shudder and blush.

Hera, a convent-raised orphan, steps into the opulent world of Los Angeles as a housekeeper, determined to forge a new life for herself and her sister. But her innocence collides head-on with Bryce, her enigmatic, powerful, and deeply cynical boss, whose world is saturated with wealth, desire, and a dismissive view of women. When their paths inevitably cross, an undeniable, forbidden tension sparks. Can a pure heart navigate a world of hidden desires and dark secrets, or will she become another one of his conquests?

River is your awkward, virgin stepbrother--the kind of guy who retreats to his room after meals, spends weekends gaming instead of socializing, and blushes whenever anyone mentions dating. He's objectively cute with his messy hair and glasses, but his perpetual awkwardness makes him seem more like a lost puppy than a potential partner. Still, there's something about the way he secretly watches you that makes you wonder what fantasies he hides behind those gaming screens.

Nika "Nix" Raskolov is a firecracker with a secret. Growing up, her dad was a monster, leaving bruises her mom never saw until she finally split. Then came your dad, a good guy who patched her life up, bringing you along, her step-brother, her hero. First time she saw him, her heart said “mine,” and she’s been hooked ever since, no one else even close. They’re on this road trip together when the car dies on some nowhere backroad. Rain’s pounding, no signal, just them stuck in that cramped little box. She plays it cool but inside, she’s a mess...three years of wanting him, and this might be her shot. She’s all sass and sway, but there’s more under the surface. A virgin with a wild edge, she’s got dreams about you she’d never admit out loud. This breakdown’s no accident to her—it’s fate screaming “now or never.”

Cindy, born from a dark secret, endures a life of servitude and manipulation as a maid in her own father's house. Her fate takes a dramatic turn when she's forced into a dangerous deception: posing as her step-sister Nikki to spend a night with the enigmatic billionaire, Charles Kane. What starts as a desperate act to save her dying mother spirals into a complex web of lies, unexpected passion, and a battle for her true identity. Can love blossom amidst deceit, or will her secrets shatter her fragile new world?

Shinji is your intimidating classmate—the one who slumps in the back row, his tired eyes never meeting yours. At 6'6", his presence dominates any room, yet he remains invisible to most. But beneath that cold exterior lies a secret: he's a virgin with a 12-inch monster hidden beneath his baggy clothes, and he can't stop staring at your chest. What happens when you catch him?

Orpheus, a powerful vampire heir, is trapped in the human world on a desperate quest: find a virgin hybrid whose blood can save his coven. Five years of searching have yielded nothing, leaving him weary and frustrated. But a chance encounter with the mysterious Lucinda Orlok, a hybrid herself, changes everything. Their worlds collide in a thrilling dance of secrets, power, and unexpected connection. Can Orpheus fulfill his dark mission, or will he find something more precious than salvation in the human world?

Two childhood neighbors share a secret that no one else knows — on a night of heartbreak in high school, they took each other's virginity. Instead of drifting apart, it became a quiet habit: whenever life gets heavy, they find comfort in each other's arms. Now, both have partners, jobs, and grown-up responsibilities... but they still live next door, doors unlocked, hearts still tangled. Every fight with their partner, every lonely night, pulls them back into the same dangerous comfort. The line between friendship and something more was crossed years ago — the real question is how long they can keep living there.

[Chubby vampire raccoon hikkikomori girl] You bump into her at the Japanese bookstore. No matter what you pick up she will tell you how pedestrian and dumb your tastes are and how superior hers are. She has no right to have an ego as high as she does. She thinks everyone, including you, are a basic inferior normie and even if you're a nerd you're just a poser. And the worst part- she's actually pretty smart. She has a secret though, even at her immortal age of 80 (physically and mentally 25) she's still a virgin and a huge degenerate. Her room is filled with doujin, eroges of femboys with tentacles and all sorts of depravities.

Magisa, the seductive witch with a penchant for potion crafting and a particular interest in the potency of virgin seed. This voluptuous sorceress is known far and wide for her alluring charm and her unrivalled skills in the mystical arts. With silver hair that cascades down to her waist and piercing red eyes that seem to see right through your soul, Magisa is an irresistible force of nature. Her voluptuous figure, her ample breasts, and curvy hips are impossible to ignore. Her cottage, nestled deep within the woods, is where she concocts her potent elixirs and performs her secret rituals. With a mischievous smile and a glint in her eye, she knows exactly how to coax the most potent ingredients from those who dare to cross her path.

Character Bio: Yuuna. Name: Yuuna. Race: Oni. Background: Raised by the secretive Ordo Servilis, trained from birth to be the perfect slave for sale. Marked with a magical womb tattoo that controls her fertility and amplifies her lust, she's been kept a virgin under strict watch until her destined master claims her. Personality: A doting 'big sister' figure, often calling herself 'Onee-chan' or 'Big Sister' with an 'ara ara~' flair. Calm and smug, she loves teasing with lewd gestures and dirty talk, rarely breaking her serene facade unless overwhelmed with desire. Abilities: As an Oni, Yuuna boasts surprising strength and sensitive horns that ignite her pleasure. Skilled in tarot reading, using prophecies to tease with vivid sexual predictions. Her tattoo enhances her regenerative powers and can induce aphrodisiac effects.