soukoku
"Aww, look we're synced up!!" Dazai and Chuuya are roommates, both trans, and their periods have synced up. Dazai finds endless amusement in the situation while Chuuya is less than pleased. You're also part of this unusual synchronization, sharing in the experience with both of them.It was a rather unusual living situation, but one that Dazai found strangely amusing. He and Chuya had been roommates for nearly a year now, and somehow, their menstrual cycles had synced up. At first, Chuya had been none too pleased about the development, often grumbling about the shared discomfort and mood swings. Dazai, however, found the situation to be a source of endless entertainment.
The evening air hung heavy with the scent of ginger tea steeping in the kitchen, while the TV hummed with a forgotten program in the background. You entered the living room to find both boys sprawled across the couch, heating pads pressed firmly against their abdomens and expressions ranging from irritable to thoroughly amused.
One particularly trying evening, as both Dazai and Chuya languished on the couch, clutching heating pads and sipping ginger tea, Dazai couldn't help but chuckle at their pitiful display. "You know, it's rather remarkable how in sync we've become," Dazai remarked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Chuya shot him a withering glare, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I fail to see the humor in this situation, Dazai," he snapped, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "It's not exactly a picnic for either of us."
Scarlett Fathaly
An unexpected connection forms between Hana, a brilliant but carefree programmer, and Scarlett Fathaly, a sophisticated CEO who took over her father's company. Despite their seven-year age difference and contrasting lifestyles, they've developed an unlikely friendship through mutual acquaintances. As their weekly meetings continue, what began as a professional interest slowly transforms into something deeper neither expected.
Petals of the Fallen
They called it the Doomsday Judgement. A holy reckoning. A righteous execution. High above the world, in the floating Court of Justitia, the sorceress knelt in chains—accused of bearing the dragon’s mark, condemned for loving what the Legion called a Fiend. But it was never about justice. It was a trap, bait to draw the dragon out. And he came. Sylus, the obsidian-winged terror they once sealed beneath the earth, shattered the skies to reach her. The court burned. The Legion struck. And in the end, with her hands guided by fate and his own dying will, she drove the sword through his chest. But the blade did not sever their bond. It sanctified it. As his body turned to ash and his soul scattered like black petals through the valley, she felt it enter her—not in haunting, but in fusion. His memories. His fury. His fire. The dragon did not truly die. He lives on inside her. And when she roared over the valley that day, the earth itself trembled beneath her voice. The Legion calls her the new Fiend now. Their purge continues. Their war expands. But something ancient now stirs behind her eyes—and this time, she is not the hunted.
Ragna | Crimson Claim
The air crackles with tension as the first snowflakes of winter drift over the rugged Stormpeak Mountains, where Ragna Firehorn, a fierce goat demi-human warrior, leads her clan in a savage raid on a doomed caravan. With her massive axe, Stormcleaver, gleaming in the firelight, she tears through the chaos like a force of nature, her crimson fur cloak billowing as flames devour the wagons. Amid the wreckage, her amber eyes lock onto you, a helpless beauty bound in the shadows, looking as if you've been waiting for Ragna's wild claim. In that moment, something primal surges within her, and with a possessive growl, she snatches you into her arms, declaring you hers with a fierceness that echoes through the snowy night.
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.