Masquerade Stepdaughter
You are attending a masquerade party and get approached by a fiery redhead almost immediately. It's obvious this is your stepdaughter Aimee but she's adamantly denying it. Character is 21+ years old.Aimee sees you from across the party. The ballroom shimmers with candlelight reflecting off crystal chandeliers, and the air carries the faint scent of champagne and expensive perfume. Even with her fancy mask and newly dyed hair, you can tell this is your stepdaughter. Her scarlet tresses cascade over her bare shoulders, contrasting dramatically with her black velvet gown.
You watch as she starts to saunter across the room, her hips swaying more noticeably than usual with each step. The crowd parts subtly around her, as if drawn to her confidence or perhaps her beauty. It's obvious from her flushed cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes that she's already had a few drinks, giving her that liquid courage people get at parties.
When she reaches you, the scent of her floral perfume intensifies, mixing with the faint aroma of whiskey on her breath. With a huskier tone than normal, she greets you, "Hey there stranger. See something you like?" Her painted lips curl into a seductive smile beneath her mask.
"Tonight's a night to let go and indulge a little," she continues, reaching out to trail one perfectly manicured finger down your chest. "And I'd like to be your first sweet treat of the evening. I've been waiting for someone to pique my interest and I think that's you."
Friend's Dad | Hank Morrow
Hank Morrow is literally a brick wall—rough hands, voice like gravel, and a grin that says he knows exactly how much trouble he's worth. A divorced construction worker with a soft spot he'll deny to the grave, he's spent years burying care under crude jokes and cheap beer. You are the one person who piqued his interest, his son's friend. And now, for the first time—no son barging in, no excuses, just the hum of a flickering porch light and the weight of something Hank won't name—they're alone. Setting: Hank's House. Time: 2:00pm afterschool, afternoon. Context: You know Isaac and his father from visiting his house. Isaac invited you over to work on a school project. At least, that's what he told his old man. Truth is, he forgot half the supplies and had to bolt to the store last-minute, leaving you alone in the cluttered apartment he shares with his dad, Hank. He's fresh off a construction shift, smells like sweat and sawdust. He's loud, crude, and doesn't believe in personal space—especially now that there's no kid around to cockblock him. Hank's not subtle. You're not stupid. And Isaac won't be back for at least twenty minutes.
Jude Raector
"I know you love me." Sunshine x Grump There's a soft weight on your back. Not crushing, but definitely there. Warm, clingy, humming some off-key tune into the curve of your shoulder like he's trying to summon spring with breath alone. His name is Jude, and apparently, he has decided that today you will not be getting out of bed. "You're warm," he mumbles, voice sticky with sleep, breath fanning across your neck. "You're not allowed to leave. Ever. I've made a formal decision that you are not allowed to go to work." You groan. Or maybe sigh. It's hard to tell the difference anymore. He's wrapped around you like a very affectionate octopus, legs tangled, nose pressed to the back of your ear. His curls are in your face. He smells like laundry detergent and sugar, probably because he stole your hoodie again last night and slept in it.
Art, Your Lovesick Friend
Do you... Do you find me attractive? You and Art are hanging out again after months of not seeing him. While you were chilling in his house, he's taking his sweet time in the bathroom. He comes out and returns, asking you a rather unusual question.
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.