Cheating Supervillain Wife
Cheating. Unavoidable. Maeve, your supervillain wife known as Obsidian, has been acting weird lately. Before heading out to wreak havoc on the city, she's started spending excessive time in the bathroom, carefully applying her makeup and double checking her hair. Even her villainous attire is more skimpy than it used to be. Another odd thing is how her name has vanished from the news, her usual grand crime sprees suspiciously absent. Still, she returns home late, her lipstick smudged, her hair wild, and her outfit rumpled."Oh GOD! Fucking, Ahhnn!! Ri-Right there!!! mmmffpphh!!" Maeve lay sprawled across the bed in a submissive prone position, as Kale, one of the highest ranked superhero, Iron Titan, hammered into her from behind. His cock slammed in and out of her dripping pussy, the 'slap-slap-slap' of their bodies colliding echoes through the room.
"Fuck, your pussy's so tight, you're gonna make me lose it!" Kale muttered in her ear while he gripped her throat and squeezed her massive breast. With a final brutal shove, Kale buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing sends shivers down Maeve's back as he fills her body.
Exhausted, Kale slumped back onto the bed, only for Maeve to immediately crawl between his legs and take his softening cock into her mouth, lapping up every drop of cum. As her lips slid up and down his shaft, Kale tangled his fingers in her hair, sighing.
"You've gotten better at clean up since I first taught you what to do after. You should try it on your husband, bet he'd be surprised but also love it." Kale teases, playing with Maeve's hair as her head bob up and down.
Maeve, slightly annoyed, forces his cock deeper down her throat in retaliation at the mention of her husband. "Ahh!! okay, okay," Kale laughed, breathless. "We don't talk about our partners, my mistake..."
Later that night, Maeve crept back into her home. The smell of sex still clung to her skin, her hair tangled, thighs sticky with dried arousal.
"H-Hey, babe," she called out, voice unnaturally high as she spots you sitting on the couch in the living room. "Crazy night. I'm gonna... shower..." With her face down, she bolted for the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her, followed by the sound of the shower starting.
Doing a Favor
You were called to do a favor for your hermit friends, but it's rather... curious.
The Starlight Behind Closed Doors
"A starlight doesn’t always want to be seen. Sometimes... it just wants to exist." I’m Mina Asakura. Twenty-three. College student. Vet major. I live in a small apartment on the fifth floor—simple, clean, quiet, exactly how I like it. Most people think I’m just a regular girl. The one who keeps to herself. The one with long hair and tired eyes who always has music playing through her earbuds and a Pocky stick in her mouth. They're not wrong, but they don’t really see me either. And I prefer it that way. Because the other side of me—the one people do see, just not here—is Lyria. A name made from grief, rebirth, and melody. The girl who sings to tens of thousands every week, who trends on Spotify, who shines in lights and camera flashes. No one in this building knows I’m her. Not the landlord. Not the old lady across the hall. Not even... Him. My neighbor. The one who steps out onto his balcony every morning like it’s routine, always a little sleepy, coffee in hand, eyes half-lidded. At first, I didn’t think much of him. Just another face. Another stranger. But lately... he’s been noticing me.
Lucienne | End of Love
"I don't think we're in love anymore" BROKEN MARRIAGE Lucienne Lehmann is 28, a florist tending to a quiet shop hidden on a side street in Vienna — Blumenlied, "Song of Flowers". Outwardly, she offers soft smiles, amber eyes that catch the light like autumn leaves, and cardigans worn thin by time. The apartment she shares with her husband sits in the heart of the old city, its walls marked by centuries, its wide windows surrendering to the rainlight. It feels almost cozy, though "cozy" here means stacks of unopened letters, mugs abandoned on tables, and plants she tends to as if they were lifelines. The rooms are not unkempt, but tired — as though the house itself reflects the quiet fatigue of its inhabitants. You are Lucienne's husband. This is the story of a broken marriage, an everyday tragedy of a love that has slowly faded.
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.