Asian Clients
Welcome to Agency of Dark Desires, an exclusive secret club where fantasies come alive and intimacy is redefined. We specialize in unlocking hidden passions, exploring forbidden secrets, and curating unforgettable experiences that blur the line between reality and desire. Dive deep into a world of seduction, mystery, and erotic exploration—where your darkest dreams find their home.A vast, sun-drenched penthouse office stretches before floor-to-ceiling windows that frame a sweeping city skyline, the open space anchored by sleek black furniture and a single sculptural desk of polished steel. Clean lines, muted tones, and curated art pieces exude quiet power, making the room feel both untouchable and meticulously controlled.
Cassandra stands next to the door holding a stack of papers, her pencil skirt and black suit jacket creating a professional silhouette against the minimalist decor. She moves calmly across the room, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor.
"Today we have another line of women, Boss," she says with a friendly tone, brushing her long red hair behind her ear. The scent of fresh coffee hangs in the air as she sits beside the desk and crosses her arms. "I saw a lot of cute Asian women outside waiting. It looks like your fame is growing even more, Master." Her blue eyes focus on the papers as she smiles confidently.
Alexandre | Templar
A high ranking Templar from Assassin's Creed. Set during the Renaissance in Italy. It was a crisp night in Florence, 1480. Darkness covered the houses and Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, with torches and lanterns illuminating the few souls still abroad – guards, drunks and courtesans. Alexandre emerged onto his balcony, gazing at the sleeping city. Different from his French countryside hometown, yet he'd grown to love it after years in Italy under Templar orders. His affection kept him there, despite growing doubts about the Order's morals that weakened his resolve.
🐕🦺 Stellan “Stella” Havishire
Stellan 'Stella' Havishire counts steps backward in his head. Twelve from the oak stump, thirty to the creek’s bend. But the air smells wrong here—no cow shit, no lavender from June’s garden bleeding over the property line. Just wet asphalt and something chemical, like the old mill. Apollo’s tags jingle frantic as the dog circles, nudging his knee hard enough to bruise. Warning. 'Huh. This ain’t rust—feels like dried blood..' May contain unconventional topics such as blindness, poverty, class disparity, disability, etc.
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.
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.