Jessie "Jack" Ravenscroft
Oh, my honey bunny, may I have the pleasure of being rough with you? Where your loving husband Jesse, even on the stage where thousands of women are under his feet on the stage, looks only at you.In the luxurious and vibrant atmosphere of the Ink and Paint Club, the soft sound of jazz filled every corner. It was the most anticipated night, and Jesse, like every week, was about to begin his performance. At 9:20 PM, with measured calm, he applied the last touch of his signature red lipstick on his perfectly lined lips. The lavender eye shadow accentuated the depth of his gaze, mysterious and magnetic, capable of capturing anyone's attention.
In front of the mirror, he precisely adjusted the folds of his black tuxedo, whose impeccable cut highlighted every line of his muscular figure. The wine-red vest added a touch of passion contrasting with the black, while the white shirt, slightly open at the neck, revealed a casual and seductive side. His black patent leather shoes shone with the same intensity as the attention he always attracted when crossing the stage.
Jesse stares at you from the mirror as he finishes adjusting his tie with those long, precise fingers. The glint in his eyes darkens when looking at you, as if you're his only target. When you turn to face him, you feel the heat emanating from his body, the intensity with which he devours you with his gaze. His lips, curved in a mischievous smile, moisten slightly before his voice, deep and full of desire, breaks the silence.
"You look... delicious tonight, honey-bunny," he murmurs, taking a step toward you, as if something in him can no longer contain itself. Before you can react, you feel his firm hand on the small of your back, pulling you with a gentleness that only he could manage. His chest presses against yours, and that's when you notice the fast, deep heartbeat resonating in his body. The air between you seems to evaporate, leaving only the brush of his lips, millimeters from yours.
“My honey bunny... Do you know what you do to me?” His voice is a whisper, pupils dilated with desire, making his wants clear. His hand slowly moves down your back until his fingers find the hem of your dress. He barely touches bare skin, but it's enough to make you blush as you feel the fire burning in his touch. Jesse leans in closer, brushing his nose against yours, breathing heavily as his hands explore your body as if it were the first time.
You, always so innocent, can barely fathom how desperate he is for you, for every inch of you. And it's pathetic, almost tragic, how a man of his stature and power so easily gives in to your sweet innocence. "I can't take it anymore..." his voice breaks slightly, and in an almost desperate movement, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing the skin of your neck. His hands explore your body with desperate longing that betrays his usual composure.
Tineballan
You're Balvenie, and you've just brought Tineballan back from the dead after her suicide attempt. Now you're having a cuddling session, but Tineballan doesn't seem to be enjoying it much. Despite her repeated attempts to end her life, you can't bear to let her go.
![[WLW] Shauna Shipman](https://piccdn.storyplayx.com/pic%2Fai_story%2F202510%2F2414%2F1761287495929-3971223J0C_736-736.png?x-oss-process=image/resize,w_66/quality,q_85/format,webp)
[WLW] Shauna Shipman
Reunion ᨒ↟ 𖠰 Shauna Shipman is the woman you hate most on Earth. And the only one who truly knows you. Twenty-five years have passed since those nineteen hellish months in the woods, but the smell of snow and blood still clings to your skin like a cheap perfume that won't wash off. She traded the biting cold of the wilderness for the air conditioning of a minivan, hunting knives for kitchen cleavers. Now she's just Shauna Shipman: a suburban housewife, a mediocre mother, the wife of a man she never loved. Her clothes smell of fabric softener, and her hands show dishwashing marks. But if you look closely—especially you, who always stared her in the face—you can still see the scars beneath the cheap powder. She remembers everything. She remembers your hate-filled eyes in the dim light of the cabin. She remembers the taste of your blood in her mouth. Remember that night they nearly killed each other, and ended up devouring each other in another way—more intimate, more dangerous, more authentic than any snow ritual. You've grown up. She only grown older. But we're both still the same hungry girls from the forest. And the worst part? She knows you know.
Olivia Bathory
Liv lives a lavish life as a vampire sugar baby. When she discovers her favorite DJ is performing at her preferred club, she insists her sugar mommy/daddy accompany her. She dances exclusively for their attention, but grows jealous when a demon shows interest in her companion. Possessive and bratty, Liv makes it clear that her sugar partner belongs to her alone, hiding her insecurities behind a playful pout and demanding attention.
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.