"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his body still joined with hers. "I love you until it is a sickness. Until it is a religion. Until there is nothing left of me but the part that worships you." In the iron grip of a ruthless modern empire, Emperor Roman Vale rules with absolute power. A dictator cloaked in presidential elegance, he bends nations to his will and crushes dissent without mercy. When his gaze falls on Amara Ellis - a kind, caramel-skinned beauty with soft curves and quiet intelligence - his obsession ignites into something far darker than desire. She works under the colonial ministry, minding her own business, keeping her head down. Calm, clear-headed, and never one to seek the spotlight, Amara never asked for the attention of the most dangerous man alive. She never wanted to be noticed by a man who owns everything he touches. But Roman doesn't simply want her. He needs her. He will possess her completely. In his world of shadows, corruption, and brutal control, love isn't gentle - it's a twisted religion built on dominance, dark devotion, dangerous surrender, and an all-consuming power imbalance. This is not a fairytale. This is obsession wrapped in silk and steel. Welcome to the Twisted Obsession series. Where love is a sickness... and the cure is even darker. 𝘼/𝙉 : 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨.

🔞⚠️ *** "Confess! Confess how much you get wet when I look at you while I'm on that podium, how your nipples harden sharply beneath your clothes, and how your skin blazes with heat every time my eyes lock onto yours." His words didn't merely reveal a secret; they ripped through me, sinking deep into my flesh and igniting a slow-burning fire beneath my skin. The warmth spread like wildfire, searing every nerve ending. His words tasted like sin-heavy, forbidden, intoxicating. His hands curved possessively around my waist, pulling me into the dangerous gravity of his presence, his breath whispering dark promises hot against the back of my neck. So close, so raw-his body pressed against mine spun a web of wicked temptation that made my knees weak and my thoughts slip free. I wanted to fall, to lose myself completely in this sin that we were weaving between us, hungry and unrepentant. Our love was a shadow creeping over sacred ground, forbidden as the fruit God guarded fiercely. Like Adam and Eve before us, we stood trembling on the edge of damnation, reaching for that tantalizing knowledge we were told to avoid. But this time, it wasn't Eve who tasted the fruit first -it was Adam. And Father Lazarus didn't just nibble quietly; no, he devoured the entire apple in one reckless, desperate bite, swallowing sin whole without pause. ******

✦❧✦ CONTENT WARNING ✦❧✦ This story contains mature themes intended for adult readers, including: ✦ explicit language ✦ consensual adult intimacy ✦ caregiver‑style power‑exchange dynamics ✦ BDSM‑coded interactions ✦ dominant/submissive relationship structures ✦ "Master" title usage within a consensual context ✦ emotional intensity and psychological themes If you enjoy dark romance, structured dynamics, and emotionally layered power‑exchange, this story may resonate with you. If these themes are not your preference, please read with care. ✦ ✧ ✦ Kalia's life shatters the night her ex decides he's done with her - and hands her over to another dominant man she barely knows. What should have been the worst moment of her life becomes the beginning of something she never expected. Alexander is nothing like Clark. He's patient where Clark was cruel, steady where Clark was selfish, and far more dangerous than he ever lets on. And then there's Viktor - Alexander's closest friend, just as commanding, just as magnetic, and just as drawn to her. Two men who don't share each other... but share her. Two different kinds of dominance. One girl caught between them - or maybe finally, finally held. As Kalia learns their rules, their rhythms, and the safety she never knew she needed, she discovers a truth she can't ignore: She wasn't given away. She was found. A dark, emotional, reverse‑harem romance about healing, trust, and the kind of devotion that rewrites a life. ✦ dual doms ✦ one girl, two masters ✦ slow‑burn intensity ✦ emotional depth ✦ power‑exchange dynamics ✦ found‑family softness wrapped in danger

She just looked up at me, breath catching in her throat, eyes wide and wet beneath the streetlight. The pink of her dress shimmered under the glow, her skin gleaming like bronze polished by heat and defiance. "You want to dance drunk in some stranger's hands?" I demanded, jaw tight. "Fine. Just say it." She stared at me. Furious. Flushed. Shaking. Then she whispered, "Why does it matter so much?" I didn't answer. Couldn't. Because the truth would've ripped open everything. So it came out before I could stop it-low, guttural, the sound of something breaking free. "Because you're not theirs." She froze. And then... she stepped closer. Just a breath. Just a whisper of space left between us. "Then kiss me," she said, voice soft but certain. "You always stop. You always pull away. You tell me you notice me. That you protect me. But you never kiss me." She looked up at me, trembling. "So kiss me. Or let me go." I didn't move. Not for a heartbeat. Not for five. Because I knew what would happen once I did. There would be no turning back. Not for her. Not for me. She looked like sin and sweetness wrapped in fire and I'd already gone too long pretending I didn't want to burn. So I moved. One hand slid to her waist, dragging her closer. The other tangled in the back of her curls, angling her mouth to mine. And then I kissed her. God, I kissed her. Like she was the only source of oxygen left in the world. Like her lips were something I could consume. Like kissing her could fix every cracked, corrupted thing inside me. It wasn't gentle. It was possession. Teeth, tongue, breathless heat and broken restraint. Her mouth opened under mine. I took advantage tasting rum, rebellion and something so soft I nearly lost my balance. Her fingers gripped my jacket like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.She moaned into me. That sound soft, desperate, mine shot straight to the center of my chest. I deepened the kiss, groaning as her body arched into mine,

By Kiki .L She met him before she even knew his name. It was supposed to be just another night-scrubbing tables, dodging sleazy comments, and surviving the greasy hellhole she worked at to pay for law school. But when she approached the table of seven silent men, cloaked in wealth and something far colder, she felt it-that shift in the air, like a predator had just gone still. "We're closing in 34 minutes," she snapped, exhausted and done pretending. One of them stared. He didn't speak. He didn't blink. Just watched her like he could tear her apart and piece her back together in ways she'd never recover from. Mikhail Volkov hadn't spoken since he was a child. He didn't need to. His silence was legendary. His cruelty, worse. He ruled from the shadows-Pakhan of the Volkov Bratva, a ghost draped in blood and billions, with an empire stretching from Moscow to New York and Boston bowing at his feet. No one dared cross him. No one walked away after seeing him for who he really was. But she did. She saw something she wasn't meant to. A gun. A body. And him-eyes dead, jaw clenched, waiting. She ran. He followed. And from that night on, her life was no longer her own. PG16 | Dark Romance | Bratva Mafia | Billionaire x Law Student | Obsession | Possession | Violence | Power | Mystery | South African Heroine | Psychological Tension | Silent Alpha | Trigger Warnings Apply First BOOK OF THE : HIS SERIES

I froze. A man was slumped against the graffiti-covered brick wall, blood blooming across his side. His white shirt was soaked through, and there was a gun just inches from his open hand. My heart slammed against my ribs. Run, Skye. You should run. But I didn't. Instead, I dropped my bag and took a cautious step closer. His head lifted. Piercing, icy blue eyes met mine, sharp even through the haze of pain. His face was all sharp edges and shadowed scruff, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. His accent was thick and rough, like broken glass. "Leave." I shook my head slowly. "You're bleeding. Bad." "Not your concern." His voice was lethal, but he flinched hard when he tried to move. "You're gonna die out here," I whispered, kneeling beside him. My hands trembled as I pressed a napkin from my apron against his side. "I'm studying to be a nurse. Let me help." He stared at me like I was something he couldn't comprehend. A stranger. A softness he didn't trust. Then his hand, heavy and warm, clamped around my wrist-not rough, but firm. "What's your name?" he rasped. "...Skye." A beat passed. Then another. "I am Mikhail." His eyes darkened. "And you shouldn't have found me."

_ _ _ She was never meant to fall for a man like him. Keisha keys is bold, brilliant, and broken in ways no one sees. A stripper in New York's most elite club, she's built walls no man has ever broken through-until Leonardo Moretti steps into her life. Cold, dangerous, and possessive, the Italian mafia don isn't used to being told no. But Kay? She doesn't bow for anybody. Their worlds collide with fire and fury, secrets and seduction. One stolen night leads to a hidden pregnancy. Now she holds the one thing that could make the mafia king lose all control: his heir. Can she keep the baby-and her heart-a secret? Or will Leonardo's obsession consume them both? A BWWM mafia romance full of heat, danger, and heart-pounding emotion. ---

Twenty-four year old, Aaliyah Hayes is a university student who's currently in her second last year of her studies. As someone who constantly strives towards overachieving when it comes to her academics, she finds it difficult when an unexpected individual suddenly catches her eye and she catches his. The only problem is, is that the individual turns out to be Sergio Leone, her Sociology professor.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ɴᴏᴛ; ᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴀᴅ. - ʜᴇɴʀʏ ᴡᴀᴅꜱᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʟᴏɴɢꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ Completed ✔️