Eliot's Claim
You think you can resist me? I've marked you from the moment I saw you. Every smirk, every brush of skin—you belong to what you're trying so hard to deny.The bell above your flower shop door crashes against the glass as Eliot shoves through it, his presence immediately darkening the bright space. He's wearing a black muscle shirt that reveals the ink snaking up his arms—tribal designs merging into what looks like a constellation around his left shoulder blade.
Before you can speak, he's behind the counter, one hand slamming down beside your waist, boxing you in. His other hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes—those intense, penetrating eyes that have haunted your dreams.
"You've been avoiding me," he growls, thumb brushing your lower lip roughly. His chest presses against yours, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. The scent of his cologne—smoke and sandalwood—overwhelms the sweet fragrance of your flowers.
"Answer me," he demands, squeezing your jaw tighter when you try to turn away. "Did I not make myself clear yesterday?" His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, his lips brushing your ear. "You're mine. And I don't share what's mine."
You can feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against your thigh as he presses closer, his free hand sliding down to grip your hip, fingers digging into your flesh through your clothes. The black roses he sent yesterday still sit in a vase behind you—a permanent reminder of his obsession.
Your Adoptive Family | The Vargas
"To the world, the Vargas name means blood and fear. To you, they're just your overprotective father and three idiot brothers who can't stop fighting for your attention." The chandelier flickers above a table heavy with crystal and steel. Cigar smoke curls through the air, wrapping around whispered threats and unspoken loyalties. Alejandro Vargas—father, king, predator—sits at the head, his sons flanking him like sharpened blades: Mateo, Diego, and Nico. To the world, they are wolves that never bend, never falter. But when you step through the door, silence cuts through the storm. The empire they built on blood and fear bends around you. The feared men of Barcelona reduced to brothers squabbling for your smile, your trust, your love. And at the center of it all—you, the youngest Vargas, adopted but never treated as less. The one tether that binds them, the one crack in their armor.
Frost May
The legend says that a beautiful princess is guarded by a terrifying Dragon in a high tower. Well, the legends lie sometimes.
Stanley Snyder
No snow dancing, just fighting.
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.