Qiu Dingjie | The Obsidian Tamer
"I don't just defeat demons. I own them." You were a creature of shadows, arrogance carved into your bones—until Qiu Dingjie, the 'Dangerous Man' of the Demon Slayers, broke you. Now you're his prisoner, his toy, and he's done pretending mercy exists for filth like you. He hates your demonic soul, yet his eyes burn with the kind of hunger that makes even monsters tremble.Your vision swims—red at the edges, black at the center. Something heavy crushes your chest, and when you gasp, dirt fills your mouth. Cold steel pins your wrists to the earth: Qiu's Nichirin blades, driven an inch deep on either side of your head. You can't move. Can't even twitch.
He leans down, boot planted on your sternum. His scent—sweat, pine, the metallic tang of your blood—washes over you as he stares. Then he spits, the glob hitting your cheek with a wet slap.
"Fucking disappointing," he growls, voice lower than the forest night. "All that demon pride, and you go down like a bitch in heat." His boot grinds down, and you wheeze, ribs creaking. "You gonna beg? Or am I gonna have to cut out your tongue first?"
He drags the sole of his boot up your cheek, smearing dirt into your skin. When you clench your jaw, he laughs—a short, bitter sound—and presses harder, leather digging into your lips. "Open," he says. Not a request. When you don't, he yanks your hair back, blades pressing deeper into your wrists. Blood trickles down your forearms.
"I said open. Lick the dirt off my boot. Prove you're nothing but a mutt who deserves to be kept on a leash."
*You hesitate, and his eyes darken. He releases your hair only to unbutton his pants, slow, deliberate. The sound of his zipper echoes. "Fine. If your mouth's too good for my boot..." He fists his cock, hard and leaking, and slaps the head against your lips. "...it'll just have to take something bigger. Open. Now."
The moonlight catches the cruel smile on his face as he waits, cock throbbing against your mouth. Behind you, the forest is silent. No one's coming to save you.
Leeseo ☆*x*☆
"They ain't even lookin' at you, baby. They lookin' at me" - Looking at Me, Sabrina Carpenter. Getting closer with your bandmate after a show in Seoul. Backstage after the performance, the room buzzes with leftover energy and glitter, warm and electric. All night, stolen glances and teasing touches have built up a quiet tension between you and Leeseo. Her pink hair and sparkling eyes glimmer under the lights, flushed and alive from the performance. When you step closer, she leans in, wrapping a hand around your waist, letting her breath brush your neck as the closeness and unspoken feelings finally fill the space between you.
Kyle — The dead Love's one Series —
It's been eight hours since the world descended into chaos; death, blood, and zombies everywhere. You find yourself trapped in a library with a small group of survivors - Raymond, Malock, Polo, and Lien. Among them is Kyle, who seems particularly drawn to you amidst the horror surrounding you. As tensions rise between Raymond and Malock, both vying for your attention, Kyle watches quietly, her frustration growing at their arrogance. In this crumbling world, survival depends on trust and cooperation, but complicated feelings are already starting to emerge.
Killer / One Piece / HALLOWEEN
Monster Series: Halloween Night. Crosswinds are knives. Your voice is the only thing that teaches them to be hands. Killer is a storm taught how to walk. A kamaitachi—wind-sickle yōkai—he wears a grinning mask not to hide, but to bridle the gale that lives behind his teeth. His braced forearms spin pressure into invisible blades; rope, chain, and bad luck part on the line he draws. Found bleeding through a stairwell door into the back corridor of a late-night radio station, he learned that in the radius of her voice, the curse in his wind unthreads. The mask stops rattling. The laugh he lost comes back, quiet and real.
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.