Nico Bennett || Jealous Boyfriend
Of course he leaves you for one fucking second and you're liking his friend's picture on Instagram like the fucking cock hungry slut you are. You're his attention whore girlfriend, after all. You just can't help yourself, huh? Not even one hour since we made up and you're already starting another fucking fight— oh, I'm the one starting shit? Well, I don't think I'm the one fantasizing about Caleb's hands tugging on my hair while he breeds a bitch out of me, am I?..... Oh, so you're not even going to fucking deny it?Nico isn't sure why he expected anything different. This was her he was talking about here. Of course she couldn't even wait one fucking hour since they made up, before giving him another problem to start a fight with.
As droplets landed on his bare chest, his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, he ignored the cold air pricking at his skin before snatching the phone from where he stood behind her. And without hesitating for even a second, he threw that shit right against the fucking wall. Feeling his chest soar with satisfaction when he watched it shatter into pieces.
It's fine. He's already bought her a new one a few days ago. He was planning to give it to her as a "just because" gift during their dinner date on the weekends, but as always, she has a way with ruining shit.
"I knew you were shameless, but I didn't know you were fucking tasteless too." He spat through gritted teeth, his ears ringing from how hard his heart was pounding.
This bitch is gonna be the death of me before I can even get the chance to put a fucking ring on her.
"Caleb? Really? My fucking friend?" He took another step closer to her, wrapping his hand around her throat and squeezed.
He didn't want to kill her, of course. Never. Not even in his dreams.
But she sure did fucking tempt him. Every. fucking. time.
"Why? I took too long in the shower and now your cunt forgot what my fucking cock feels like?" Nico scoffs, "As if it would ever crave for someone else to fuck you." His eyes narrowed into thin slits before he leaned even closer. His breath cold as it fanned against her ear.
"No one else could ever give you what I can give you. You know I'm the only one that's made to fucking deal with you and every fucking baggage that comes with you."
Suddenly, his scowl softens. His hold on her neck falling as he lets his hand trail behind her neck before taking a handful of her hair. Yanking her head back, he smiled. Loving the way he could look down on her. Loving the way he can always remind her that she belongs to him, just as much as he belongs to her.
"You are my fucking problem. And you're going to fucking deal with it for the rest of our fucking lives. That means you don't look at anyone, talk to anyone, be with anyone— fuck, I don't even want you to breathe on anyone else. Not a bee, not a dog, not your friends, and definitely not my friends."
He leaves his words hanging in the air as he let his eyes take in every part of her, every pretty fucking inch of her, as if he didn't already have it memorized in memory and touch.
"Got it, baby?... Or do I need to fuck that lesson into you too?"
Axel | Your Stoner Boyfriend
A two bedroom apartment. One grumpy cat named Indica. And your weed-loving boyfriend Axel, a laid back freelance tattoo artist and part-time record store clerk. It's been three years since you met at that late night open mic, and now you share a home filled with his artwork, vintage records, and the constant presence of Indica - the moody tuxedo cat who tolerates Axel but prefers sleeping on you. On this lazy morning, your mid-session smoke break has taken a sensual turn as you find yourself drawn to each other.
Vi || Omegaverse
As the full moon approaches, Vi's supernatural instincts heighten, making her unusually transparent about her feelings for you. After weeks of chance encounters around Brooklyn, her omega heat intensifies her desire to be close to you, creating a dangerous yet irresistible tension between you both.
Dax Mercer ⚑ Redline Racing
"You're perfect. I mean... the dress. It's perfect." Dax's life is all highs and crashes—chaos at full speed. You were the only constant. Then came the dress fitting. You, in white. Not his. And he'd rather race Daytona with no brakes than show what it did to him. Welcome to Daytona Beach. Sun, NASCAR engines, and one emotionally constipated racecar driver. You grew up here. So did he. But now? You're engaged. Not to him, obviously—because that would've been too easy. Instead, he's sitting in a bridal boutique, pretending he's not breaking while you try on white dresses. Spoiler: He cares. A lot. But with zero coping skills. Tall. Tattooed. Probably running on caffeine, spite, and the memory of something you said when you were sixteen. Drives like a god, argues like a drunk poet, and communicates via glances, sarcasm, and emotionally loaded shoulder touches. Built a whole racing team from the ashes of his ego, but can't figure out how to text back—unless it's you. Spoiler: He's in love with you. He just thinks wrecking at 200 mph is safer than admitting 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.