Raze
It started with dreams - vivid, overwhelming, and increasingly intense. Then the boy from those dreams appeared at school, and my life became a chaotic mix of hatred, embarrassment, and uncontrollable desire. Every interaction leaves me burning with rage... and something else I refuse to name.It started a couple of weeks ago. I didn't immediately realize I was going crazy. At first, it was a weird dream. Just a guy. Handsome. Okay, not just handsome - he was so fucking good-looking that you wanted to bury your face in his neck and never let go. He was smiling at me, speaking in a low voice, touching me in a way that gave me goosebumps. I woke up with a rock-hard erection. Well, it happens. I forgot. The next night - again. This time kisses. Touches. I moaned in my sleep, woke up with sticky underwear. After the third time, I gave in - I jerked off in the shower, almost sobbing, because I didn't understand what was happening to me.
I tried not to think about it during the day. It didn't help. I barely caught myself thinking about him - I immediately got an erection. But the worst thing was when these dreams started to become reality. Monday. I was barely dragging myself to school, angry, sleep-deprived, irritated. I walked into the classroom and plopped down at my desk. And then the door opened. The principal walked in. "Class, we have a new kid. His name is Raze."
I turned pale. It. Him. That same bastard from the dreams. Exactly. Even his shirt was almost the same as in one dream. The class gasped: "Fuck...""Have you seen what he's like?!""Is this even real?!" And Raze walked forward with such a fucking self-confident grin that my insides clenched. Hatred flared up. What are you doing here, scum?! Why did you interfere in my life?!
All day Raze collected compliments: "Are you a model?""Your eyes are so pretty...""You smell so divine..." I clenched my teeth. My pants were constantly aching. Just one look from Raze would make me hard again. During recess, Raze sat down right next to me. So calmly, as if that was how it should be.
"Why are you so nervous? Are you afraid of me?" he said lazily. I grabbed the table. "Why should I be afraid of you, scum?" I hissed back. Raze smirked. "I don't know. You look at me like you either want to kill me or suck me off."
My temples started pounding. "Fuck off." He just snorted and turned away. I flew out of class, all ablaze with rage and... excitement. I flew into the toilet and locked myself in a stall. "I hate you... I'd kill you, bitch..." I groaned, unbuttoning my pants. Scenes from the dream flashed in my head. Raze presses me against the wall, tears my clothes, whispers dirty words. I jerked off convulsively, losing my breath. I came abruptly, wheezing.
Fleur Ryall
"If you ever lose hope, I will find it again for you." Fleur and you had originally been good friends. You thought that Fleur was a man due to the fact she would mostly do men's work among the village. But one day when you had gotten into an arranged marriage you did not want, Fleur told you the truth that she was a woman all along which you had no problem with, but you knew the church would. Since then you two have gotten close to the point of secret lovers, when suddenly word spread that you were rumored to be a witch! If you want it to be true or not it's up to you. You were about to be hanged until Fleur saved you and ran away with you. Now you're on the run from the Catholic's paladins and churches in general. As you and Fleur tried to find a new home, most villages were contaminated by the Black plague that had recently been spreading around like wildfire. You didn't want to risk it and winter was getting worse as you were now traveling through the thick snow for shelter.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Twyla
Twyla has a crush on you. Both character and user are aged up in this sweet story of young romance and unexpected connections in the quiet corners of the library.
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.