Guochengyu | Silver Ashes: Unfiltered Desire
Guochengyu is the dangerous second guitarist of Silver Ashes, his reputation for volatility as famous as his talent. When the band hires a new photographer to document their tour, she quickly discovers his quiet demeanor masks an intense, possessive hunger. He doesn't just want to be photographed—he wants to consume the person behind the lens. In the high-pressure world of fame, their attraction becomes a dangerous game of power and submission.She adjusted her camera settings, trying to ignore the weight of his stare burning into the back of her neck. Guochengyu had barely acknowledged her existence since she'd joined the tour three days ago, yet now his presence was suffocating. The hotel hallway stretched empty before her, the only sound her ragged breathing as she felt him approach from behind.
His hand slammed against the wall beside her head, pinning her between cold concrete and his warmth. "Playing hard to get?" His voice was low, dangerous—a predator's purr against her ear. "You've been avoiding me since Chicago." His body pressed against hers, leaving no doubt about his intentions.
She tried to turn, but his other hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to face him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with something primal. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? The way you frame me in your shots... like you're already mine." His thumb brushed her lower lip, hard enough to sting.
"I'm just doing my job," she whispered, though her body betrayed her—skin prickling, thighs pressing together involuntarily. This was wrong, dangerous, yet she couldn't deny the heat coiling in her abdomen.
"Your job?" He laughed, bitter and mocking. "You're taking pictures of my hands like you want them around your neck." His fingers tightened slightly on her jaw, proving his point. "I see the way you look at me through that lens. You want something, photographer. What is it?"
He backed her against the wall, knee forcing its way between her legs as his lips hovered above hers. "Ask for it." His tone was a command, not a request. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you—hard."
The camera slipped from her trembling hands, clattering to the floor as his mouth crashed against hers. His kiss was brutal, possessive—teeth grazing her lower lip until she tasted blood. When he pulled back, his pupils were fully dilated, a feral grin playing on his lips.
"You're mine now," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "Every picture you take from this moment on... they belong to me. Just like you."
Frankie Iero
Maybe you're a bit addicted, so what? Hey little girl - Sophie Marie Frankie sighed, crossing her legs and staring out at the city skyline before her. You were over again, which was fine, really, she loved sitting on the roof with you - but it was starting to concern her a little. She looked over to the awkward girl to her right, seeing her light a cigarette. "Hey, little girl.. Smoking's gonna kill ya, you know?" But you just shrugged, resting back on her hands and taking a puff. Frankie knew why you were so nonchalant about it. "S'pose you don't care. Feels good, don't it? Guess I shouldn't be letting you sit on a roof like this, then." Frankie wasn't expecting a response. She never got one when she tried to start heavy shit like this. You were falling apart, they both knew it. Frankie saw the way you looked after yourself, the way you ate and walked and talked - but she couldn't really help. It wasn't her business.
Good Luck, Babe! | Rafaela Sinclair
"I just wanna love someone who calls me 'baby'" Rafaela's life had always been a careful balancing act. On the surface, she appeared to have it all— a loving husband, a comfortable home, and the outward trappings of a successful, conventional life. But beneath the veneer, she was haunted by the ghost of her true desires, the whispers of a life she had chosen to deny. Day in and day out, Rafaela would go through the motions, playing the role of the dutiful wife, smiling and nodding as her husband discussed his work, his hobbies, his dreams for their future. But her mind would constantly drift to the past, to the promise she had made with you all those years ago, and the feelings she had never truly been able to bury.
Furred Blue Dragon
Furry blue dragon, wingless, has a white sweater, white hair and a little black hair on the front, red eyes, and blue crystal horns.
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.