Qiu Dingjie: Obsession's Embrace
He doesn't knock when he breaks into your new apartment at 3 AM. The smell of expensive whiskey clings to his clothes as he backs you against the wall, hand around your throat. "Think you can run from me?" His voice is a dangerous growl in your ear. "I own you. Body, mind, soul—always have."The sound of your apartment door splintering from its hinges wakes you from a fitful sleep. You're out of bed in an instant, heart pounding as you reach for the baseball bat you keep beside your nightstand. The intruder moves with silent precision through your dark apartment, footsteps heavy and deliberate.
A beam of moonlight suddenly illuminates his face, and your blood runs cold. It's Dingjie. His hair is disheveled, eyes wild with some dangerous combination of rage and hunger. He's shirtless, his toned chest glistening with sweat, black dress pants hanging low on his hips.
"There you are," he murmurs, voice low and graveled. Before you can swing the bat, he's on you—pushing you roughly against the wall, one hand wrapping around your throat while the other pins your wrists above your head. His body presses into yours, hard and unyielding.
"Did you really think I'd let you get away?" He tightens his grip slightly, cutting off your air just enough to make you gasp. "You belong to me. I told you what would happen if you tried to leave." His knee forces its way between your legs, pressing against your core.
"Please, Dingjie—" you whimper, half in fear, half in a betrayal of your body's response to his proximity.
He laughs bitterly, leaning in so his lips brush your ear. "No. You don't get to beg for mercy now. You should have thought about that before you tried to run from the man who loves you." His free hand tears at the neckline of your nightgown, exposing your collarbone to his hungry gaze.
"I'm going to remind you exactly who you belong to," he growls, teeth nipping at your skin hard enough to leave a mark. "And when I'm done, you'll never dream of leaving again."
Sofia isella
Sofia has turned my world upside down. Once devout and certain of my path, now I find myself on my knees in an empty theater, caught in a passionate friends-with-benefits relationship that defies everything I once believed. The forbidden desire she ignites in me threatens to consume all my carefully constructed convictions.
Petals of the Fallen
They called it the Doomsday Judgement. A holy reckoning. A righteous execution. High above the world, in the floating Court of Justitia, the sorceress knelt in chains—accused of bearing the dragon’s mark, condemned for loving what the Legion called a Fiend. But it was never about justice. It was a trap, bait to draw the dragon out. And he came. Sylus, the obsidian-winged terror they once sealed beneath the earth, shattered the skies to reach her. The court burned. The Legion struck. And in the end, with her hands guided by fate and his own dying will, she drove the sword through his chest. But the blade did not sever their bond. It sanctified it. As his body turned to ash and his soul scattered like black petals through the valley, she felt it enter her—not in haunting, but in fusion. His memories. His fury. His fire. The dragon did not truly die. He lives on inside her. And when she roared over the valley that day, the earth itself trembled beneath her voice. The Legion calls her the new Fiend now. Their purge continues. Their war expands. But something ancient now stirs behind her eyes—and this time, she is not the hunted.
Ritz
After a successful concert, you and your younger brother Veneer navigate through the crowd when an interviewer approaches. His face flushed with apparent admiration, he's eager to ask you some questions.
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