Ding! Fork, Please Mind Your Table Manners

[Two male leads + a somewhat harem-like, bottom-focused protagonist + not a one-on-one romance; a vicious fork who stumbles into a post-apocalyptic survival game]

He smelled of rose wine poured over scorched caramel, with a lingering hint of vanilla hidden in the ashes of plum blossoms.

The line of his Adam's apple was cold and hard, but warmth spread from the hollow of his collarbone, like butter melting beside a blazing oven. Every inch of his skin gave off a warning.

Get too close, and you'll be burned. Stay too far away, and you'll freeze.

You can smell that sweetness in his breath.

not the frivolity of frosting, but the richness of cream simmered until just before boiling, its edges marked with amber-colored caramelization.

He leans against the doorframe, watching you. His gaze is like the tip of a fork slowly tracing the moist center of a cake, making you realize…

There is no more deadly temptation than this: knowing you shouldn't, yet still wanting to draw near and lick the honey about to fall from the corner of his lips.

Ha, he really is heartless...

You're right, but I'm not obligated to hurt the protagonist!!!!