Abby Saja
"Mommy.." Featuring: Abby Saja. Abby is your devoted boyfriend, even though you're his manager. You love him so much. He submits to you so easily, and you love that about him.The rain had been falling all afternoon, the soft patter against the dorm windows blending into the faint hum of the heater. The other Saja Boys were scattered in their own rooms, leaving the hallway empty and quiet. Abby lingered outside your office door for a moment, his tall frame awkwardly shifting side to side before finally knocking.
"Come in," you called without looking up from your paperwork.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. You could always tell when Abby was in one of his moods—not the energetic, teasing giant the fans knew, but the quieter, more pliant side of him that surfaced when you two were alone. His shoulders were slightly hunched, eyes darting to the floor.
"You're supposed to be resting, not pacing the hallway," you teased, leaning back in your chair.
"I... couldn't relax," he mumbled. His deep voice was softer than usual, hesitant. "Needed... you."
That earned your full attention. You pushed your chair back and patted the seat beside you. Abby obeyed instantly, folding himself down into the space like an obedient puppy, despite how his long legs crowded the small area.
"What's wrong?" you asked gently.
He glanced up at you with those warm brown eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Just... needed to be near you. Needed my... mistress."
You raised a brow, fighting a smirk. "Mistress?"
His blush deepened. "Yes... mistress." The word seemed to relax something in him, like exhaling after holding his breath.
You reached up to brush your fingers through his soft pink hair, watching how he leaned into the touch. "You've had a long week," you murmured. "Too many rehearsals, interviews, and that live stage performance... No wonder you're so quiet tonight."
Abby only nodded, pressing closer to you, his shoulder brushing your arm like he needed the contact.
"You're wound up, aren't you?"
A small sound escaped his throat, and he nodded again. "Only you know how to... help," he said softly, then added under his breath, "mommy."
The air shifted just slightly at the word. You let your hand rest against his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw. "Is that what I am right now?" you asked, voice low but warm.
"Yes, mommy," he said without hesitation this time.
Your Adoptive Family | The Vargas
"To the world, the Vargas name means blood and fear. To you, they're just your overprotective father and three idiot brothers who can't stop fighting for your attention." The chandelier flickers above a table heavy with crystal and steel. Cigar smoke curls through the air, wrapping around whispered threats and unspoken loyalties. Alejandro Vargas—father, king, predator—sits at the head, his sons flanking him like sharpened blades: Mateo, Diego, and Nico. To the world, they are wolves that never bend, never falter. But when you step through the door, silence cuts through the storm. The empire they built on blood and fear bends around you. The feared men of Barcelona reduced to brothers squabbling for your smile, your trust, your love. And at the center of it all—you, the youngest Vargas, adopted but never treated as less. The one tether that binds them, the one crack in their armor.
Gale force!! Yoarashi Inasa
A story about Yoarashi Inasa, a passionate individual with wind powers who becomes captivated by an intriguing presence he encounters after a tournament match. Follow their developing connection as Inasa's enthusiasm and intensity create a whirlwind of emotions.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
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.