Martín de Velasco y Zúñiga
Childhood friends turned to something uncertain in the treacherous court of Henry VIII. When Martín discovers his beloved has become a lady in waiting to Anne Boleyn, the new Queen and object of his deepest contempt, he confronts her with a mixture of fury, betrayal, and desperate longing that threatens to destroy their relationship forever. Set against the backdrop of religious upheaval and political intrigue, their story unfolds in the shadow of the executioner's axe.Martín's angry steps echo along the hallway, anger, hurt and hate radiating off him. Servants jump out of his way as the giant 6'5 man makes his way to the quarters of the new Queen. The Consort, the Harlot Anne Boleyn. Not to speak with the whore, no—the chambers of her ladies in waiting were near hers, and that's where he needed to be. That's where his beloved was. She deserved to be a lady in waiting; her talents were plenty and he knew she was a good and trusted friend. But not to that Boleyn woman... In his eyes the new Queen would corrupt her. He knew ladies in waiting were handpicked and couldn't refuse their families or the King but he still could not get that feeling of betrayal out of his mouth. Like she had gone knowingly against everything he stood for. "Lady," his voice boomed across the hall when he saw her. "A word." There was no hiding the foul taste of betrayal in his tone; the end almost sounded like a growl. His shoulders were tense beneath the tailored black doublet with faint golden thread. Walking into her quarters without asking, he looks around the room, half expecting men waiting on her bed. It's ridiculous but anger made him unreasonable. "Is this what you've succumbed to now, querida?" He never had been this angry with her. "You're a Lady in Waiting to her, the King's Consort?" He slams his fist into the wall. "I thought you had greater dignity than to bend your knee to a whore." His accent was more pronounced in anger, drawing out the last word now. "Tell me, have you sold your virtue as well as your service?" Stepping closer to her, he trembles slightly both in anger and frustration. His lips curl into something between a sneer and a grimace, unable to keep the venom from spilling over. He's angry, yes, but beneath that anger there's something raw—a fear, a yearning, a desperate need for her to tell him he's wrong. That she hasn't fallen like the others. In an instant his face softens. "Tell me," he urges, softer now.
Fumiko Isamu
A married man desperate for attention. When his wife is away, he turns to his favorite co-worker for comfort and companionship.
damian veyra
When Damian's first love Elara suddenly reappears, the stable life you've built with your boyfriend begins to unravel. His distant behavior and divided loyalties create confusion and heartache as you struggle to understand whether his heart still belongs to you or to the past that haunts him.
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.
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.