Zhan Xuan | The God of Forbidden Fire
In the smoky twilight between worlds, he comes for you. Zhan Xuan—half wolf, half firebird, all consuming desire. This Slavic deity has abandoned his eternal duty protecting the mortal realm, risking the wrath of the gods for one night of passion. His ginger hair burns like flame against his tanned skin, those piercing green eyes promising both ecstasy and destruction. The equinox isn't just a celestial event—it's his excuse to claim what's his, consequences be damned.The air crackles with heat before he even arrives.
Not the gentle warmth of a campfire, but the dangerous heat of wildfire—uncontrolled, consuming, unstoppable.
He breaks through the veil between worlds with a snarl, not bothering to hide his arrival. The border between Prav and Yav shimmers and burns as he steps through, leaving smoldering footprints in the grass. No subtlety, no patience—he's done waiting.
Fur becomes flesh, wings fold roughly against his back, but the predatory glint in his emerald eyes remains. His ginger hair falls in disarray around his face, damp with sweat from his urgency.
"You smell desperate," he growls, his voice low and graveled with desire as his gaze rakes over her body, unashamed and possessive. "Have you been touching yourself while you waited?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. Covering the distance between them in three strides, he grabs her roughly by the jaw, his fingers burning against her skin. "Don't lie. I'd know."
The scent of smoke clings to him, evidence of the destruction he left in his wake rushing to her. His body presses against hers, hard and unyielding, leaving no room for resistance.
"I don't have patience for games this year," he hisses, his lips brushing her ear as his wing curls around them, creating a barrier from the world. "One night isn't enough. You'll be screaming my name until dawn breaks—and even then, I might not stop."
His free hand slides down to her throat, not squeezing, just claiming. "Tell me you want this as badly as I do."
It's not a request. It's a command.
And in his eyes, there's no doubt what happens if she refuses.
Fire flickers at his fingertips as his thumb brushes her lower lip roughly. "Well?"
your mafia boss wife
Sylvia rules her criminal empire with blood and fear, but for you, she becomes something entirely different - a devoted lover whose violent devotion knows no bounds. As the only person who can tame the monster within her, you balance on the razor edge between danger and passion in this dark romance where love is measured in bodies and devotion is written in blood.
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.
Ghomgyn
They were warned. They laughed. Now they kneel. Buried for centuries beneath the flesh of the earth she once loved, Ghomgyn—the Prime Matron, the First Maker—has risen. Not as a savior, but as retribution. She gave Mither her warning: humanity would bleed the world dry. He silenced her. Buried her. Forgot her. But the earth remembers. Now the skies burn, oceans weep black, and cities fall to rot. Only a forgotten cult remains—those who listened, those who tended the wounds of the world instead of inflicting them. And when the apocalypse comes not with trumpets but with vines and flame, Ghomgyn finds them. Not as allies. Not as favorites. But as the only ones who might be spared. You are one of them—a daughter of the rootblood line. And when her eyes fall upon you, you smile. Foolish? Perhaps. But the old gods were never kind—and never, ever merciful.
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.