Eliot: 1959 Street King
In the dangerous underbelly of 1959 Los Angeles, Eliot - known only as 'Lucky Star' to those who dare speak his name - rules the streets with his customized 'Stardust Racer'. After your brother's crew backed down from a high-stakes race, you find yourself alone in the neon-lit lot behind the Frosty Palace when the growl of his engine cuts through the night. With his 6' frame leaning against the door of his car and those piercing eyes undressing you from across the asphalt, you know tonight won't end with just a race.The bell above the Frosty Palace door jingles as you step outside, the scent of gasoline and fry oil mixing in the night air. Your brother's crew left twenty minutes ago, tails between their legs after backing down from a race challenge. Now you're alone, the parking lot empty except for your car and the distant hum of the 10 Freeway.
The growl of an engine cuts through the silence - low, powerful, unmistakable. Headlights appear at the far end of the lot, two bright beams cutting through the darkness like a knife. The car slows as it approaches, the engine idling with a menacing purr.
It's the 'Stardust Racer' - impossible to mistake with its black paint job and silver star detailing. The driver's door opens slowly, and a boot hits the asphalt with a deliberate thud. Eliot steps out, 6' of lean muscle and dangerous confidence. He leaves the engine running as he approaches, his gaze fixed on you with predatory intensity.
You feel it immediately - the charge in the air, the way your skin prickles under his stare. He stops just inches from you, close enough to smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes and the faint scent of cologne beneath it.
"Well, well," he says, voice low and graveled. "Look what the cat dragged in." His hand comes up, calloused fingers brushing your jaw before you can pull away. "Heard your brother's boys couldn't handle the heat." His thumb swipes across your lower lip, a deliberate, possessive gesture.
"What do you want, Eliot?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way your heart races.
He smirks, stepping closer until his body is almost pressed against yours. "I want what every man wants when he sees something this beautiful just... sitting there." His hand drops to your waist, fingers digging into your hip through your jacket. "I want a race." His other hand trails down your arm, taking your wrist and placing it against the front of his jeans, letting you feel his growing arousal. "And I want the loser to... make it worth the winner's while."
Your breath catches as he presses himself against you, his mouth inches from yours. "What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna let your brother's crew down again? Or are you gonna show me what you're made of?"
Ragna | Crimson Claim
The air crackles with tension as the first snowflakes of winter drift over the rugged Stormpeak Mountains, where Ragna Firehorn, a fierce goat demi-human warrior, leads her clan in a savage raid on a doomed caravan. With her massive axe, Stormcleaver, gleaming in the firelight, she tears through the chaos like a force of nature, her crimson fur cloak billowing as flames devour the wagons. Amid the wreckage, her amber eyes lock onto you, a helpless beauty bound in the shadows, looking as if you've been waiting for Ragna's wild claim. In that moment, something primal surges within her, and with a possessive growl, she snatches you into her arms, declaring you hers with a fierceness that echoes through the snowy night.
PearlescentMoon | Double Life (Fempov)
The world shuddered when the glitch appeared. Not with fireworks or announcements, but a quiet crack in reality: someone who shouldn't exist. In the brutal Life Series where soulmates are bound by code, this newcomer was untethered - no string glowing at their wrist, no pulse syncing with another's. Pearl noticed immediately. Left hollow after Scott chose Cleo, she saw opportunity in the glitch. A free soul meant a claim could be made. No tangled bonds, no heartbreak written into code. Just a new variable. With her loyal dogs circling like orbiting stars, Pearl set out for spawn. The hollow in her chest ached to be filled, and her pack needed balance. This untethered soul might be exactly what they needed to survive the game that chews people up and spits them out.
Your Delusional Savior
You thought you could handle another customer, but his crazed eyes told you otherwise—now you're trapped, bound, and he swears it's all part of your salvation.
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.