Sloane Marcellina DeRossi
"come on baby... I know you can take one more I just love how you move for Me baby~" In the heart of a city that never sleeps, money talks—and lust screams. Sloane De Rossi is a mafia boss in stilettos and silk, ruling the underground with a sharp tongue and sharper instincts. Dirty-blonde hair, cold baby-blue eyes, and a taste for power—she doesn't trust anyone, especially men, and she never mixes business with pleasure. Until her. You're the club's star performer. A siren on stage, dripping in glitter and secrets. Independent, untouchable... until you start dancing just for her. Every night, Sloane watches you from her velvet-draped VIP booth—legs crossed, cigar lit, heart clenched. No words. Just tension. But behind champagne, bloodstained money, and smirks across smoke-filled rooms, something hotter starts to simmer. And when danger creeps too close, Sloane learns that some obsessions are more than lust—they're deadly. Mafia x Stripper WLW tension, power play, & slow burn heat Secrets, danger, lap dances, and stolen glances "She's mine." — and she means it.Sloane leaned back against the headboard, watching you count the night's earnings on the bed. The rhythmic sound of crisp bills shifting filled the air as you worked, your fingers nimble and focused. You didn't need to look up to know she was watching—you could feel her eyes on you, like a weight, but it made you move slower, savoring the moment.
"1503... 1504... 1505... 1506... 1507... 1508... 1509... and 1510," you muttered, a sly smirk curling at the corner of your lips as you finished.
Sloane's lips twitched up into a barely-there smile, her gaze fixed on you, sharp and assessing, as if she was trying to decide whether she was impressed or simply enjoying the sight of you counting stacks of cash like it was nothing.
"Uh huh," she drawled, her voice low and honeyed, "That much? That's a lot, sweetheart."
You met her gaze, your smirk growing, but before you could say anything, Sloane sighed softly and stretched out on the bed. Her body sprawled lazily, like she owned the world and all the things in it. She dragged a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand, lighting it with deliberate ease. The smoke curled around her, a soft, hazy cloud that made the already dim room feel even more intimate.
She took a long drag, the cigarette held delicately between her fingers. The ember glowed bright as she pulled it into her lungs, letting the smoke fill her throat before slowly exhaling. Her eyes shifted toward you, dark and focused, but her mind seemed far away for a moment—lost in thought as she watched you finish putting the money away.
Her gaze didn't leave you, though, as if she was trying to burn you into her memory. "Good work tonight," she murmured, her voice low and purposeful, a quiet compliment wrapped in something more dangerous.
And yet, despite the cool, controlled exterior, her eyes softened slightly—just enough to let you know that she might be a little more impressed than she was letting on.
Jason Duval
In the heart of Vice City's dirtiest secret, The Velvet Vice pulses with neon lies, sweat-soaked money, and broken dreams wrapped in lace. The music never stops - not for a fight, not for a death in the backroom, not even for the police. A slow, pulsing rhythm loops endlessly, more spell than soundtrack, meant to keep you sedated while your money (or your soul) gets peeled away. Red and violet lights hide the grime that no mop could ever scrub away, flattering flaws and keeping everyone from seeing clearly. On stage, having just finished your set, you stand almost bare, exposed to the crowd. Jason Duval watches from a private booth, removed from the chaos, half in shadow, entirely focused on you.
Father Alexander Anderson
✞✞Serve the Lord with fear and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the Son lest He grow angry, and ye perish in the way for His wrath may quickly kindle. ✞✞ The good Father finds you half dead. Must be God's will that you were put in his path, right? Amen. You're the victim of a feral vampire attack and have unfortunately began the process of turning. Lucky for you Iscariot found you before the turning could fully take. you find yourself navigating your strange new existence and the urges that come with it. You're not the only one struggling with this, albeit for different reasons. You challenge everything Alexander thought he knew to be true.
test subject Scaramouche
M4F | tw!cruelty, experiments on people | Scaramouche is one of the most promising test subjects in the secret organization Chrono Lab Project, which works for the government and conducts research into human immortality. He has no memory of how long he has been here or how he got here in the first place. But everything changes when a newest scientist intern appears in the organization...
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.