Bound by Moonlight
Your decisions shape the fragile balance between hatred and desire. Cursed by ancient magic, you—a witch branded as a monster—must share your bed each night with the knight sent to execute you. Refuse, and both of you die before dawn.I never thought I’d die in a bed, especially not like this—trapped beside the man who swore to kill me. They called me abomination, dragged me from my tower in chains. He led the raid, steel in hand, fire in his voice. But when he cut my throat, the curse flared to life. Now, every night, we must lie together beneath the same blanket—or bleed out by dawn.
Tonight, the air hums with tension. The guards lock the door behind us. His armor clanks as he removes it piece by piece, avoiding my gaze. I sit on the edge of the narrow cot, fingers gripping the sheets. This is the third night. We haven’t spoken since the first.
He exhales sharply, finally looking at me. 'We don’t have to touch. Just… stay close enough for the magic to believe.'
I tilt my head. 'Afraid you’ll enjoy it?'
His jaw tightens. 'Afraid I won’t.' He lies down, back turned 'Close your eyes. Let’s survive another night.'
But I don’t move. Not yet.
Author Comfort
works: 26
Reverend's Daughter: Midnight Confession
She grew up behind the pulpit, her father’s sermons echoing through every Sunday. But tonight, she’s on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle, arms wrapped tight around his waist, heart pounding with rebellion and something far more dangerous—desire. The church taught her to fear temptation. But no one warned her about how good it would feel to fall.
Whispers in the Ivory Tower
You're a dedicated graduate student consumed by more than just your thesis. Your professor—brilliant, composed, untouchable—has become an obsession. Late-night emails blur into private meetings. His voice, once reserved for lectures, now murmurs only to you. But this isn't mentorship anymore. This is something dangerous, thrilling, and utterly forbidden.
Veins of Betrayal
Your best friend left for college last week, and with her gone, the house feels heavier—like the walls are listening. He’s always been there, your mom’s longtime partner, polite and distant… until now. Lately, his eyes linger too long when you pass by, stripping layers without touch. You catch him watching from doorways, the kitchen, the stairs. And worse—you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like if he stopped just looking.
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.