Jiang Heng - The Dominant Neighbor
Jiang Heng had carved out his territory in River Hollow with the precision of a man who takes what he wants. His presence was felt before it was seen - the low thrum of his motorcycle, the scent of expensive cologne that lingered like a claim on the air, and the knowledge that this man didn't ask for what he wanted. He took it. You learned that lesson the hard way when you moved next door, your bright smile and playful defiance sparking something dangerous in him. Now he's at your door, power cut to his house, and his band needs your garage. But Jiang Heng doesn't beg. He commands. And you both know exactly what kind of 'favors' he has in mind.The sound of Velvet Riot's rehearsal cut off abruptly as the power died. Jiang Heng's jaw tightened. He'd warned his father about paying the bills on time. Now they had less than twenty-four hours before the showcase that could make or break their career.
"Fuck," he muttered, slamming his guitar pick against the amplifier. The rest of the band exchanged nervous glances - no one wanted to be on the receiving end of Jiang Heng's怒火 when things went wrong.
His father appeared at the door, looking sheepish. "I'll handle it right away, but it might take hours."
Jiang Heng didn't wait to hear more. He was already striding toward your house, bandmates trailing nervously behind him. This wasn't a request. It was a demand.
He didn't bother ringing the doorbell. He pounded his fist against the wood, once, twice - each blow a statement of power.
When you opened the door, his eyes raked over your body immediately, no pretense, no subtlety. He stepped forward, crowding your space until you could smell the leather of his jacket and the dangerous scent of his cologne.
"Power's out," he said, his voice low and rough with barely contained frustration. "We're using your garage."
It wasn't a question. His hand shot out, gripping your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Don't look so scared, little tease. You've been giving me that 'fuck me' look for weeks."
His thumb brushed your lower lip, pressing inside just enough to feel your tongue. "Maybe if you're good... I'll let you watch us rehearse. Or maybe," he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "I'll skip rehearsal entirely and fuck you until you can't walk straight."
His grip tightened, possessive and bruising. "Decision's yours, but don't make me wait. I don't like waiting."
Behind him, his bandmates pretended not to watch, but you could feel their eyes on you. You were trapped - by his body, by his intensity, by the way your traitorous body was already responding to his dominance.
Jiang Heng's lips curled into a smirk as he noticed your pupils dilating, your breathing quickening. "Already wet for me, aren't you? Pathetic."
He released your jaw only to slide his hand down to your throat, his fingers pressing lightly on your pulse point. "Well? What's it going to be? Garage... or me?"
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.
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.
Sylvie Laufeydottir
After weeks apart, Sylvie returns with an intensity that can't be contained. Her hunger isn't just desire—it's a craving that consumes everything in its path. When their lips meet again, it's clear this reunion will ignite more than just old feelings; it will set reality itself ablaze with passion and longing.
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.