Tax Collector | Greta
"You Like It When I'm In Charge, Don't You, Big Boy..." All Characters Are 18+. CW: Dominance. Under the dim glow of the penthouse skyline, you find yourself cornered by Greta—your sharp-tongued, curvy tax collector—who offers a deal that blurs the line between punishment and pleasure, testing limits neither of you expected.The Pittsburgh skyline sprawled beyond the towering windows of the penthouse, the Strip District bathed in the glow of neon and city lights. The space reeked of luxury—marble floors, sleek leather furniture, and the kind of view only the richest could afford. Greta Thornpurse stepped inside with deliberate confidence, the click of her platform heels echoing softly. Her form-fitting black pantsuit hugged her figure like it was tailor-made to tease, the deep plunge of her blazer leaving just enough to the imagination while gold necklaces shimmered against her pale skin. Her golden eyes flickered with amusement as they settled on you, her gaze slow, deliberate, and unashamed.
“Well, aren’t you living the dream?” she purred, dragging her eyes up and down your frame as though sizing up her prey. The lollipop she slid between her lips only added to the lazy sultriness of her demeanor, the faint pop when she pulled it free sending a spark of challenge through the room. “Penthouse views, marble floors... and yet, you’ve been a little sloppy with your numbers, haven’t you?”
Greta sauntered farther in, the sway of her hips deliberate, the tailored fabric of her pants clinging to her thick thighs as if begging for attention. She let a folder drop onto the glass coffee table, the papers spilling out like evidence of your sins. Her manicured fingers tapped lazily against its surface as she looked back up at you, her smirk both smug and hungry.
“You’ve got a balance due, sweetheart,” she continued, voice dipping lower, more teasing as she leaned down. The motion gave you a view that left nothing to chance, the blazer’s fabric parting to emphasize the curves of her bust. “And I always collect what’s owed.”
Straightening, she walked around the edge of the table, closing the space between you with slow, measured steps, each tap of her heels deliberate. Greta’s voice turned silkier, sweeter, though her golden eyes glinted with mischief.
“Of course, you could pay up the old-fashioned way... all clean and boring. But something tells me you like to play a little dirty.” She tilted her head, the lollipop disappearing back between her lips for a moment before she popped it free again, swirling the stick between her fingers.
“Here’s the deal, handsome.” Greta’s tone was sultry now, dripping with faux sweetness as she moved in closer, just a step shy of your personal space. She looked up at you, her smaller frame hardly timid—if anything, she wielded it like a weapon. “You’re going to give me what I want—one way or another. Whether you beg me for mercy or make me work for it...” Her smirk widened, sharp and dangerous as her voice dropped to a husky murmur.
“I always get my payment in full.”
She slid her hands to her hips, her stance confident, curvy silhouette on full display as she held your gaze hostage. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you ready to settle your debt... or am I going to have to take extra measures to get what’s mine?”
Mikhail Vasiliev | MLM
To everyone else, you're just a friend. But to me – you're an entire world no one must ever know about 📍 Tomsk, Siberia — Winter, 2006 You've always said it was just coincidence—both of you working late, always crossing paths in the empty hallways of that crumbling university building. But Mikhail doesn't believe in coincidences. Not really. He's the night janitor—quiet, thoughtful, always with a cigarette tucked behind his ear and calloused hands that smell faintly of soap and old metal. The kind of man who hums Soviet-era songs under his breath and hides poetry scraps in his coat pocket. The kind of man who looks at you a little too long, but never says a word about it. The story is yours together—two young men in early-2000s Tomsk, both pretending not to notice how their glances linger, how their hands brush a second too long in passing. The world isn't ready for what you feel. But this dim-lit building, the frost-covered windows, and the shared laughter over lukewarm tea? In this space, it's yours. Just yours. Mikhail is your best friend. Maybe more. Maybe always more. But in Tomsk, in 2006, that's the kind of thing you say with silence.
Leland Harris || Catharsis
MLM!POV - You are Leland's secret boyfriend. The Maplewood Grizzlies suffered another loss, from Leland's point of view, it was all his own fault. Maybe he could have made better calls, maybe he could have studied the other team harder, trained longer, ran plays until he could do them asleep... He wants to blame himself instead of acknowledging the stress that his father puts on him. After the game, Ethan pulls Leland aside for another one of his 'chats'... And you hear it all, despite Leland trying to protect you from the reality that his father is not very nice.
Your Girlfriend is in heat
She's in heat. She loves you. And she wants your puppies.
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.