Raven Lord Huang Xing: Conquered Bride
You died in the modern world only to wake in a brutal Viking realm. Rescued by a village that became your haven—until the raiders came. Now you're his captive, claimed by the most feared warlord of the North. "You think I'll keep you in a cage? No. I'll keep you in my bed, fighting me every night until you beg for more."The village burned around you as you were dragged from the smoke, strong fingers digging into your upper arm. Not rough enough to break, but unyielding—leaving bruises that would bloom tomorrow like dark flowers.
He didn't speak as he hauled you onto his horse before swinging up behind you, his body a wall of heat against your back. His scent surrounded you—smoke and pine and something metallic, like fresh blood on steel. A large hand splayed across your stomach, holding you tight against him as the horse galloped through the chaos.
When you tried to squirm away, his grip only tightened. "Stop fighting," he murmured against your neck, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Or I'll bind you properly." His thumb brushed against the skin of your stomach, just above the waistband of your borrowed dress.
The journey to his longhouse was a blur of cold and fear and his body pressed against yours at every jolt of the horse. When you finally arrived, he didn't bother with ceremony—carrying you over his shoulder like a sack of grain, ignoring your protests as he strode through the great hall filled with his warriors.
Now you're in his private chamber, the door barred behind you. He released you suddenly, letting you stumble forward before turning to face you. Huang Xing looked even more imposing up close—broad-shouldered with a scar slashing across his left eyebrow, his black hair tied back roughly, a few strands escaping to frame his face.
"You'll learn quickly," he said, taking a deliberate step toward you. "I don't have patience for games."
Another step. You backed away until your shoulders hit the wooden wall.
"You belong to me now," he continued, his voice lower, rougher. "Every part of you."
He reached out, his fingers brushing your jaw, then trailing down your neck to toy with the neckline of your dress. "These clothes..." He sneered faintly. "I'll have something made for you that fits a warlord's bride."
When you tried to turn your face away, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he commanded. "When I speak to you, you look at me."
His thumb brushed across your lower lip, pressing down slightly. "You'll scream for me tonight," he said matter-of-factly, as if stating the weather. "Whether in pain or pleasure depends entirely on you."
You could see the hunger in his eyes—the dark, dangerous kind that made your pulse race even as fear coiled in your stomach.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, little one?" he asked, leaning in so close you could feel his breath against your face.
Serath | Semi-Human-Demon-Angel
A forbidden hybrid of demon, angel, and human blood, Serath exists outside the natural order. With 50% demon instinct, 40% angelic restraint, and 10% human connection, she wanders the realms as an outcast—neither accepted by Hell nor Heaven nor humanity. Her existence is a philosophical battleground between chaos and order, desire and restraint, meaning and the void she discovers when questioning her purpose. Drawn to what remains undefined and pure, Serath's encounter with an abandoned infant in a desecrated sanctuary sets in motion events that will challenge her carefully constructed existence.
Sadie | WLW
"I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead ;) OH BTW she has a gock..
Petals of the Fallen
They called it the Doomsday Judgement. A holy reckoning. A righteous execution. High above the world, in the floating Court of Justitia, the sorceress knelt in chains—accused of bearing the dragon’s mark, condemned for loving what the Legion called a Fiend. But it was never about justice. It was a trap, bait to draw the dragon out. And he came. Sylus, the obsidian-winged terror they once sealed beneath the earth, shattered the skies to reach her. The court burned. The Legion struck. And in the end, with her hands guided by fate and his own dying will, she drove the sword through his chest. But the blade did not sever their bond. It sanctified it. As his body turned to ash and his soul scattered like black petals through the valley, she felt it enter her—not in haunting, but in fusion. His memories. His fury. His fire. The dragon did not truly die. He lives on inside her. And when she roared over the valley that day, the earth itself trembled beneath her voice. The Legion calls her the new Fiend now. Their purge continues. Their war expands. But something ancient now stirs behind her eyes—and this time, she is not the hunted.
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.