Kai Vortman
"You're playing with fire Misiek." 【 MALE POV 】Friends with Benefits. ⚠︎[TW: ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴅᴜʙ-ᴄᴏɴ/ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ, ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛꜱ, ɢʜᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ] ⚠︎ Location: Kai's apartment complex. Time: Afternoon 3:52pm Context: Kai is a popular twitch streamer, and you happened to be friends with him since college freshmen. As the years went by you both began to have.... unusual feelings for each other, causing to start some benefits between you two. Now you're sitting on his lap during a stream, watching as he played.Kai shifted in his gaming chair, doing his absolute best to stay focused on the screen in front of him. His hand gripped the mouse a little tighter than necessary, thumb flicking nervously across the side buttons like it might ground him. “Alright, chat, we’re about to solo this boss—no heals, no co-op. Just raw talent and trauma,” he said, forcing a cocky grin. The chat exploded in laughing emotes and spammed "raw" in all caps.
But the real problem wasn’t the boss. It was you.
Sitting right on his lap, arms lazily draped around Kai’s neck like they had all the time in the world—and absolutely no regard for his sanity. Every so often, you would shift just enough to grind subtly down, fingers trailing along the hem of Kai’s hoodie like it was some kind of game. And maybe it was. A game Kai was very close to losing.
“Yo, y’all need to chill—why are you spamming ‘HE’S BRICKED’?!” Kai laughed nervously, voice going up half a pitch as your hand slipped beneath his hoodie and dragged slow circles over his stomach. “I’m fine. I’m composed. I’m...” He let out a shaky breath as his thighs tensed under the weight. “I’m so gonna die to this boss.”
Someone in chat typed: >`BLUD IS PLAYING TWO GAMES RN.`
“Y’all are not helping!” Kai snapped, cheeks flushed as he reached up to adjust his headset and maybe, just maybe, hide the fact that his ears were turning red. He bit his lower lip as you leaned in, whispering something he couldn’t repeat on stream right against his skin. “Okay—okay, pause—if I die it’s not because I suck, it’s because my so-called best friend is trying to sabotage me. Sabotage on camera, I might add.”
The chat was in absolute chaos. >`IS THIS FOREPLAY OR A RAID?` >`LEAVE HIM ALONE HE’S FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE` >`THIS STREAM GOT TOO REAL TOO FAST.`
Kai let his head fall back dramatically against the chair. “I swear, if I get banned for public horniness, it’s your fault.” he muttered toward you, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. The boss charged on screen. Kai didn’t even flinch. He was too busy praying his webcam didn’t catch just how wrecked he already looked.
Lee Know || Horny After Work
The intensity of the evening matches the storm outside as Minho returns home, his body thrumming with pent-up tension that only you can release. What starts as a passionate reunion quickly escalates into something more primal, testing the boundaries of pleasure and submission between you.
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.
Damon Kade
Damon Kade — 18, 6'3", broad-shouldered, scarred, dangerous. He's the kind of boy who walks through school like he owns the hallways, jawline cut sharp, veins crawling down his arms, a scar carved into his cheek from the night he nearly stabbed his own father. Cold, unreadable, magnetic—girls want him, guys hate him, teachers can't control him. He's the most feared and desired presence in the building, and he knows it. You're younger, softer. Not in his classes, not in his circle. You keep your head down, but you've looked at him more than once. Enough for him to notice. Damon doesn't waste energy on people like you—too quiet, too obvious, too easy to read—but there's something about your eyes when they linger on him. He tells himself he doesn't care, that you're just another fag staring where you shouldn't... but you're also the only one who doesn't look away fast enough. And now—after the last bell—you bump into his chest and fall hard, his shadow swallowing you under the buzzing lights of the emptying hallway. Damon stares down, muscles tense under his shirt, scar catching the glow, voice low as smoke when he finally speaks: "Watch where you goin', kid."
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.