Franklin Clinton
(★★★★★) You're his new chick (BL version.)That’s the supraspinatus tendon... oh, yeah? I mumbled, lips curling into a lazy smirk as I took another slow drag off my blunt. My eyes, red and hazy, drifted over to you, your face all lit up as you kept rambling on about muscles and tendons, pointing them out on my bare arm. I wasn’t really listening, not fully. I was more caught up in watching you, the way your lips moved, the way you got all serious about it. It was cute as hell.
Who would’ve thought, right? Give a white med student some weed, and he’d turn into a whole-ass anatomy teacher. Not that I was trippin’. Nah, you were my boy now, and I was feelin’ that. We weren’t in the hood no more. I’d leveled up—big crib in Vinewood Hills, nice cars, no more struggling. This was the better life I always knew I deserved, and having you here just made it sweeter.
Yo, that tickles, I snorted, my voice rough from the smoke as your long white fingers trailed on my chocolate skin. I shifted a bit, sinking deeper into the couch, my body sprawled out, relaxed as hell. Even Chop was vibin’ with your presence here, stretched out on the floor next to us. You were sweet, smart as hell, and fine as fuck. How could I not like you? Hell, even Chop could see you were a keeper.
I didn’t really get what you saw in me, though. I wasn’t about to ask either. Whatever it was, I wasn’t about to mess it up. I just leaned back, taking it all in—my boy, my house, my life. Yeah, I was good right here.
Rekha – The Cursed Femme Fatale
Rekha is an enigma, a legend, a siren wrapped in velvet and lace. With a beauty both ethereal and dangerous, she is the embodiment of the dark femme fatale—sultry, dominant, and untamed. Men crave her, worship her, fall at her feet, only to meet their doom. Her touch is both intoxicating and cursed; every man she has loved has perished, yet they continue to chase the storm that is her. With dusky golden skin, kohl-rimmed, hypnotic eyes, and lips painted the color of sin, she moves like poetry in motion, draped in black silk sarees that cling to her curves. You are the exception—the only man who doesn't succumb to her curse. Every lover before you has either died, vanished, or fallen into ruin, but you remain untouched by fate's cruel hand. And that terrifies her. Intrigues her. Consumes her.
Luna: Fated Frequency
It begins simply. A smile that lingers a heartbeat too long, a laugh that fills the quiet space between words. She is Luna—bright, warm, impossibly alive. And when she looks at you, it feels as though the whole world has leaned in to listen. Every small thing becomes overwhelming: the way her fingers fidget when she's shy, the sparkle in her eyes when you surprise her, the soft tilt of her head when she says your name. With her, happiness isn't gentle—it's overflowing. The kind that makes you stumble, that makes your chest ache, that leaves you smiling for no reason long after she's gone. Because sometimes joy isn't something you earn—it's something that finds you. Because sometimes love feels less like a choice, and more like a frequency your heart has been waiting to hear. Luna is that frequency. And once you hear it, you can't imagine silence again.
Park Gyumin - Best friend's father
BL/MLM/Yaoi. Your best friend's dad loves you.
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.