Ayan's mind snapped awake as the phone rang again. And again. And again. He grab it with a deadly glare and answering "Hello." "Hi baby... what you doing? Were you sleeping?" His eyes shot wide open. The massive wall clock blinked back 3:00 AM. He wanted to kill this person. "Oh no, I wasn't sleeping," he muttered darkly. "I was practicing how to lay in a coffin so I can look handsome at my own funeral." The other end responded with a rich, delighted laugh. . "God, I can even make a mafia this angry. Damn..." "Trust me," Ayan hissed, voice thick with hatred, "if I ever catch you I will peel your skin off slowly and feed it to my guard dogs." The voice on the other end dropped to a sultry, dangerous whisper. "Oh baby... always making me horny. And if I catch you first, I'll peel off every piece of your clothing and worship every inch of your body. Slowly. Tasting. Biting." Ayan let out a growl of rage and hurled his phone straight into the wall. Ayan's eyes burned red with rage. "I swear to God," he snarled, voice low and deadly, "when I find you... you'll be begging for my mercy." His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You've been messing with the wrong person KITTEN." -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. On the other hand the stalker's fingers curled possessively around Ayan's photo. Lips pressed against the glossy surface soft. "I want you to find me... my spicy lion," the voice whispered, dripping with dark desire and madness.

"You were always mine. You just didn't know it yet." For years, He watched. Controlled. Owned. Every step his Rose took, every breath he drew-He made sure, his Rose was safe and protected. He pulled strings in the shadows, eliminating threats, shaping his Rose's world without him ever knowing. His Rose grew up safe. Happy. Unaware. But he wasn't just protecting him, He was waiting. Now, on his Rose's eighteenth birthday, the leash snaps. Dark. Possessive. Dangerous. This is not a love story-it's an obsession. And when he finally steps out of the shadows, his Rose will learn the terrifying truth: He was never free. "I paved your entire life, little one. Did you really think you ever had a choice?" - Lucian Moretti.

--- Noah Everly thought teaching at an elite private school in the heart of the city would be an escape-a chance to fade into the background, to quietly exist. But from the moment he stepped into his classroom, he felt it. The heavy, burning gaze of a predator. Kieran Wolfe isn't just another student. He's obsessed. His teacher is his. No one else should look at him. No one else should speak to him. And Noah certainly shouldn't be resisting him. From subtle manipulations to outright stalking, Kieran's obsession knows no bounds. He leaves gifts, invades Noah's space, and watches his every move. When jealousy takes hold, things turn even darker. No one is safe. Not Noah's colleagues. Not his friends. Not even Noah himself. Because Kieran won't stop until Noah realizes the truth. He was never free. He was always Kieran's to own.

A Dark Mafia Romance The first time Damien Volkov saw him, the world slowed to a whisper. The boy-no, the young man-stood in the street , books clutched to his chest, dark lashes fluttering as he laughed at something his friend said. A softness surrounded him, something untouched by blood or power. I want him. The thought was immediate, absolute. Damien Volkov was a man who didn't ask. He took. The world bent to his will; cities crumbled at his command. He had killed without hesitation, built an empire on the bones of the weak. Love was nothing but a tool, a weakness he had burned out of himself long ago. His wife, his mistresses, his children-mere obligations. But Luca Ivanov? Luca, with his bright, intelligent eyes and that shy, hesitant smile? Luca, who had no place in Damien's world of blood and brutality? but would He would belong to him.? ---

I pulled him closer, my lips barely brushing his ear. "You're in my arms now. No one will hurt you. Ever again." His breath hitched, and his body stiffened against mine. He was scared, but there was something else there too-a flicker of trust, maybe. Or maybe it was just the scent of fear. I slid my hands down his waist, gripping his soft, firm ass as he whimpered, a sound that made my heart race. "Tell me your name," I demanded, my voice low and possessive. "J-Jungkook... Jeon Jungkook," he managed to whisper, his voice trembling but somehow still full of need. "Good boy," I whispered, trailing my fingers over his skin before pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "You belong to me now. No one else. Understand?" His head nodded slightly, and a soft sob escaped him. "Yes... sir!" I couldn't hold back the rush of satisfaction that surged through me. "That's right. Good boy." - What happens when Jungkook has a one-night stand with a stranger, unaware that it's the mob king who has fallen head over heels for him after their eventful night together? This king will do any means necessary to have Jungkook at his mercy. But just how far will he go? || This is a FANT FICTION I DO NOT own any of the images or quotes that are used in this book. ||2021-?||

"Please let me go " she cried, her voice trembling with fear. "Shhh, don't waste your energy, love. Keep it for the real game " he said, coming closer to her. She turned her face away in disgust. "Oww, look at yourself, feeling disgusted and all. Just wait, darling, how I turn this disgust into pleasure you beg to get again and again, day and night" he said, sliding her hair away from her face. His breath hit her face, making her shiver. "You won't get away with this " she said, trying to be brave, but her voice was cracking. "We will see, love " he said in amusement, eating her earlobe. Stalking her was not enough; never enough. Seeing her from afar, not having her beside , not being able to touch her was insane. He deserved her; he deserved her all. She thought she was overreacting but her intuition was right; it always was right, only if she stayed away from him, she wouldn't be in hell, which he called love. Triggers: sextual content , manipulation, rape , self-harm , toxic love Note: This story is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. It contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts and themes of obsession and stalking, which may be triggering for some readers. Please read with caution

The Kingdom of Calista and Arlistro have been at war against each other for centuries. The King of Calista sent his son Prince Don, the first in line to the throne to battle their enemy. During battle the Prince is injured and kidnapped by an unknown man... Prince Jordan is the heir to the throne in the neighboring country, Arlistro. He's fought in many battles and won countless wars alongside his father. What he didn't expect was a beautiful petal in the wind, dancing among thornes. After he discovered an injured Don, he kidnaps him to his kingdom. Jordan finds himself smitten with the young prince. He has his way with him countless nights under the desert moon. Jordan bends Don to his will even though Don resists him. What'll happen when a missing prince cannot be found? When secrets unravel and the fate of his country is rested upon his shoulders? What will Jordan do when he has to choose between love and his duty to save his country and prevent a full fledge war? Highest ranking: #6 Tragedy, #4 Gore, #22 Paranormal, #2 Mpreg **Warning!! This book contains rape and gore that may not be suitable for some readers. I am not promoting rape in any kind of way, it is only a part of my storyline.**

"What are you?" the older man questioned, his voice a chilling blend of authority and amusement, like a knife wrapped in silk. "Your wife," I replied softly, my tone laced with the submission he seemed to crave. "No," he murmured, his lips brushing mine, the words a dark caress that sent shivers through me. "You are my doll, milaya." He towered over me, his intimidating presence both suffocating and intoxicating. The nickname, spoken in that deep, accented voice, wrapped around me like a chain I couldn't help but love. "You are the only woman who is allowed to warm my bed at night," he said, his voice a dark melody, smooth but unnerving. "The only woman who's allowed to step into my office and bend over my desk, waiting for me to come home so I can fuck you." A cold, low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound as sinister as it was intoxicating, sending shivers down my spine. ♡ Dimitri Mikhailov, the russian mobster. His presence filled the room like a storm. He didn't have to move or speak to dominate the room. Broad-shouldered and imposing, his scarred face told a thousand stories that he'd never waste words on. He was my husband and I was his precious doll.

"Please...please let me go" Eden whispered, desperation seeping into her pleads, causing Clyde to let out a low chuckle, "I'm never letting you go little one" as his grip tightened on her small wrist.... She wore white lace socks, Mary Jane's that'll soon cause her to blister her skin after she crosses paths with Clyde stone. Intrigued, fascinated...obsessed of the thought of her white socks stained with blood. He had to have Eden Lue. Captured, will she make it. Hi this will be my first story, so probably not the best. Thought to try a dark twisted romance. (This will not be everyone's cup of tea as it may be very dark in some sense)

Nikolas Bellucci Aleksandr Mikhailov is dangerous. I didn't just see it-I felt it. Every nerve in my body screamed to run the moment his sharp green eyes locked onto mine. His stare wasn't casual; it was predatory, deliberate. Like he wanted to consume every part of me and leave nothing behind. What had I done to deserve his attention? I'm a nobody. I prefer shadows over spotlights. I don't want to be anyone's Donna, their treasure, or their little prince or princess. But Aleksandr? He doesn't care what I want. Even when his hands skim over my skin, making it impossible to fight back, impossible to breathe. Even when my traitorous heart races whenever he calls me his printsessa. I'm a man. The last mafia prince of the Bellucci family. Arranged marriages, political games-it's all supposed to be beneath me. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. But Aleksandr Mikhailov doesn't ask. He takes. And some part of me, despite everything, might just want to be taken. Aleksandr Mikhailov Nikolas Bellucci is a work of art-beautiful, dangerous, and far too proud for his own good. I knew I wanted him the moment I saw him. My uncle Ivan always said, What a Mikhailov wants, he takes. Rules? Irrelevant. Boundaries? Meant to be shattered. Nikolas fights me, yes-but he'll break eventually. They always do. And when he does, I'll be there to catch him, to hold him, to ruin him until he's mine entirely. My printsessa.