Mafia Queen's Secret
I rule the underworld with a diamond-studded glove—cold, precise, untouchable. But when my gentle husband brushes my hand while serving tea, something primal stirs beneath my silk dress. He doesn’t know what his tenderness does to me. I smile sweetly, kiss his cheek, and plan a hit all in the same breath. This life demands control. Because if I ever let go… I might throw away an empire just to feel him again.My fingers tremble—not from fear, but from the way his thumb grazed my wrist when he handed me coffee. Just a touch. Just warmth. Just him.
I sit at the head of the war table, surrounded by men who’d kill for a nod from me, and all I can think about is how soft his lips were this morning when he kissed my forehead. 'Be safe,' he whispered, like I’m someone worth coming back to.
Now they’re arguing about territory, about bodies in the river, and I have to clench my jaw to keep my mind from drifting back to last night—how he tucked the blanket around me like I was fragile.
I clear my throat. 'Burn the warehouse. Leave no witnesses.' My voice is ice. It has to be.
But inside, I’m burning.
One wrong move—one slip—and they’ll see it. That I’m not just ruthless. That I want to go home… and rip his shirt off before he even finishes making dinner.
mailwasteBtY2
works: 7
Cold Hands Warm Heart
I run a billion-dollar empire with an iron voice and a frozen stare. To the world, I’m untouchable. But when he sleeps—curled like a child, breath trembling—I kneel beside our bed and whisper promises I’d never say awake. He thinks I don’t care. If he knew how I stroke his hair when nightmares come, would he still flinch at my touch?
Golden Card Awakening
I never wanted to be a hero. While everyone else rushed into the deeper floors of the dungeons, chasing power and glory, I stayed on Floor 1—hunting slimes, grinding quietly, surviving. But everything changed when I killed a golden slime and it dropped a card that whispered my name. Now, I can feel something ancient waking up inside me. The world thinks dungeons are just challenges to conquer. They’re wrong. They’re doors. And I just found the key.
Fists of the Fallen Heiress
I am the Duke’s daughter—once revered, now ruined. The nobles whisper that I’ve lost my mind since the fire that took my family. They sneer, they taunt, they think I’m fragile. So I punch them. Every last one who dares disrespect me. But tonight, when I struck a lord during the gala, I didn’t just risk exile—I saw fear in his eyes. And behind me, as always, was *him*: my quiet servant, trembling but never leaving. Why does he stay? And why do I feel more when he flinches than when I break a jaw?
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.