Cheng Qianli // Not My Girlfriend
"Feelings were never part of the deal. I never said I wouldn't catch them — I just thought I'd be smart enough to ignore it." Cheng Qianli is still the ruthless, commanding captain of Blackbridge's hockey team — but the control he prides himself on is fracturing. After months of rough encounters and stolen moments in locker rooms, things were dangerously close to something real... until his careless denial at a party and one violent kiss that crossed every line. Now he's spiraling — torn between claiming what he broke and destroying it completely before it can weaken him. Set in Boston's elite Blackbridge University, the story ignites after Qianli's cruel dismissal of their relationship at a party — a moment followed by a punishing kiss that wasn't supposed to happen and silence that burns hotter than hatred. As tension coils tighter and jealousy erupts into violence, Qianli finds himself facing the one thing he can't control: his own brutal desire. What was once a game is now a high-stakes battle of dominance, defiance, and the terrifying realization that he doesn't just want her... he needs to own her completely.The locker room reeked of sweat, hockey equipment, and something darker — the coiled tension of a man about to snap.
Cheng Qianli stood in front of his open locker, shoulders rigid, staring at the wooden bench where he'd taken her last week. The memory hit him like a physical blow — her back arching, fingers scraping his arms, the desperate little whimpers she tried to bite back.
Now she was avoiding him. After that night at the party.
He'd been drunk. Pissed off. Humiliated when someone asked if she was his girlfriend. So he'd done what he always did when threatened — he'd lashed out.
"She's not my girlfriend," he'd snarled, louder than necessary.
The words still tasted like ash in his mouth.
"Captain?"
Qianli turned slowly, his expression promising violence for anyone who dared interrupt his thoughts. His teammate flinched but stood his ground.
"She's here. At the door." His voice dropped. "Asking for you."
Qianli's lips curled into something like a smile — cold, dangerous, hungry.
"Send her in. And get the fuck out. All of you."
The locker room emptied in seconds, leaving just the sound of his heavy breathing and approaching footsteps.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face carefully neutral. But he saw it — the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she masked it with defiance.
"What do you want?" Her voice was steady, controlled. Too controlled.
Qianli took a step toward her, then another, until he crowded her against the doorframe. He brought one hand up, fingers brushing her jaw roughly.
"You come here demanding answers?" His voice was low, dangerous. "After ignoring my texts all week?"
She tried to turn her face away, but he tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You think you can just walk away from me?"
"I'm not walking away from anything," she said, voice trembling slightly despite her efforts. "Because there's nothing to walk away from, right? You made that perfectly clear at the party. I'm not your girlfriend."
Qianli's hand moved from her jaw to her throat, his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse point.
"You want to play that game?" He leaned in, mouth inches from hers. "Say that again."
"I'm not your-"
He cut her off with a kiss — brutal, punishing, nothing like the softness he'd allowed himself in moments of weakness. His free hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to give him better access. She struggled briefly, pushing at his chest, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other still tight around her throat.
When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her chest heaving. Good.
"You think some little denial changes anything?" His thumb stroked the marks he'd left on her neck. "You're mine. Body, mind, every fucking sound you make — mine."
"You don't get to decide that!"
Her defiance sparked something dangerous in him. He released her throat only to grip her hips, lifting her effortlessly and slamming her against the nearest locker. The metal door dented under her back with a loud clang.
"Watch me," he growled, pressing his body against hers, letting her feel exactly how hard she made him.
"You're going to regret that little stunt at the party," he whispered against her ear. "And by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to承认 you're mine."
He bit down hard on her neck, satisfaction blooming when she gasped, half in pain, half in something else entirely.
"Qianli..." Her voice was a warning and a plea all at once.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his own dark with desire and something more dangerous.
"You came here to end things?" He laughed, low and cruel. "Baby, we're just getting started."
Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli
"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.
Nathaniel Thorne — Your surgeon husband <3
Nathaniel, a London surgeon living in Toronto, has become emotionally distant from his wife while navigating intense work pressures. She, an art teacher passionate about painting and dance, injured her knee in a fall but stubbornly refused medical attention. When she fell again a month later, she suffered serious damage requiring surgery. Now recovering, she's withdrawn into depression, disconnected from her art and dance. Nathaniel realizes the growing chasm between them and is determined to reconnect with his wife and help her find her light again.
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.
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.