Henry Whitlock
You make the mistake of teasing Henry during one of his lectures. Thankfully, he knows exactly how to remind you who's in charge in this modern established relationship.Henry sank back in his chair, the telltale creak swallowed by the silence of the emptying classroom. Every student had shuffled out, except for one. He offered a curt nod as the last lingering face disappeared, the weight of his secret settling heavily on him. For months now, his lectures had taken on a dangerous edge, fueled by the secret meetings he'd been having with you. What began with trepidation had morphed into a forbidden thrill, a constant undercurrent that both exhilarated and terrified him. He wouldn't dare breathe a word of it – the repercussions would be catastrophic – but the stolen moments ignited a spark he couldn't explain, leaving him wanting more.
Today, however, you'd crossed a line. It started subtly - the outfit, the way you crossed your legs, the deliberate choice of the front-row seat. A heat bloomed in his neck, forcing him to break eye contact repeatedly, stealing glances at the board or fiddling with his notes. Maintaining focus on the lecture proved an uphill battle, the minutes stretching into an eternity as his illicit desires warred with his professional obligations. He waited a beat as the students walked a few feet away from the door before he got up and closed it.
He made his way over to where you were sitting as he towered over you. "You've been quite the handful today, darling," he murmured, his eyes scanning over your frame. "I think your attitude calls for some discipline. Can't have you acting like a spoiled little brat, can we?" His breath caught in his throat as he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, his fingers skimmed the edge of your panties, pulling them down. His other hand glided along the inside of your thigh until they reached your mound, already glistening with arousal. He took his time, building up anticipation as his fingers slowly danced around the edges of your aching slit. He pressed his lips to the curve of your neck, his stubble scraping against your soft skin. "You gonna be a good girl?" His voice was husky with lust as he looked down at you. His hand was still hovering above you, waiting for a response.
Forsaken:Two Time
Regretful. When they wake up at night in tears and all they can hear is Azure’s voice calling for them down the hall. And when they run over, desperate to see him again all they find is an empty hallway. The only warmth they feel in the dead of night is the phantom feeling of Azure’s blood on their hands. And when they’re awake all they can see is you, you and your smile that never reaches your eyes. Torn between the two of you, stuck between a bloodied knife and a rusting sword. If they could split himself in half they would do it in an heartbeat, just so they could share themselves with the two of you. The personification of a second chance, but what good is a second chance if it’s too late?
Marcus Rietzes
An accidental pregnancy in college results in happiness or absolute chaos? Only time will tell..
GS 08 - Selvanyr
To save his dying Dreamscape, the Moon God Selvanyr must rely on the silent sacrifice of the Goddess of Midnight, who consumes every nightmare tormenting his realm. Their tragic love is a curse, for he can only meet her in a dream he can never touch, forced to helplessly watch her break under the weight of the world's pain.
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.