「"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐯𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠"」 ── He stepped closer, slowly. ❝ So... this is the one? ❞ ❝ Please... don't hurt me...❞ ❝Aren't you just the prettiest little thing I've ever seen? ❞ ── Etienne Theodore is all innocence and wide eyed wonder. A boy lost in his own world of stuffed bunnies and imaginary kingdoms. He lives in a small house in Moscow with his abusive, alcoholic father. Innocent. Pure. Untouched. A little angel drifting through a world too cruel for him. And then there's Aleksander Volkov. Bratva king. The wolf. All seven deadly sins wrapped in one man. Raised in hell, bending both heaven and hell to his will. He is the very definition of blasphemy. When Etienne's father is buried under debt, he is sold to him. Aleksander had never known innocence... until he saw Etienne, fragile and wide eyed, clutching his bunny in his tiny, scared hands. When innocence meets sin, only one question remains: who will survive... and who will be consumed? ──

As if five bodyguards weren't already enough, Léonel's father assigned him a sixth. This one carried a different purpose entirely. Spoiled and reckless as ever, Léonel took it as nothing more than a bait to his own amusement, blind to what was about to unfold. A slow burn full of comedy, sharp sass, and passion-all twisted together with just the right amount of angst. jaeslut, 2026

「 "𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞"」 ── My feet slammed into the grass, lungs on fire. Blood slicked my hands. I didn't look back. I knew he was there. ❝ Run, baby, run. Run for your fucking life,❞ he growled. ❝ When I catch you, I'll fuck you.❞ ── 𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮: I'm mute. I haven't spoken since the night my world drowned in blood and screams. The night I became a ghost in my own life. My stepbrother made sure I never forgot what I'd done. His fists, his venom, his cruel hands. They were my punishment. Everyone else sees a broken orphan. They look away. Pity me. They're easy to fool with silence and sad eyes. But not him. Aaron Deveraux. Leader of The Reapers. He saw through me from the first rose left on my bakery doorstep. Then came the shadows, lingering too long and the suffocating certainty that he was always near. I try to run. But he likes it when I run. ── 𝓐𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓾𝔁: I was made in blood and scripture. A Reaper dressed in priest's black, sent to smash skulls and drag filthy souls back to God by the throat. Violence is the only good I've ever answered to. I'm not supposed to want him. This quiet little ghost with flour on his hands and forest green eyes that speaks the words his lips refuse. I'm not supposed to burn for the one thing my faith condemns. But the moment I saw him, something inside me cracked. Now I'm obsessed and fucking addicted. He bakes bread to feed the living. I break bones to save their souls. We were never meant to touch. But God put this hunger in me for a reason. And I was never a man who denied his calling. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned ──

Waylon stopped speaking after the night that changed everything. Silence became the only way he knew how to survive. At a school ruled by a powerful secret society, silence makes him a target. Whispers follow him everywhere, reminding him that everyone knows the secret he tried to bury. The only person who seems to understand his silence is the one person he should hate. Yulien Blander. His enemy. In a world built on secrets and betrayal, Waylon might discover that the person he fears most is the only one who can save him.

「"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫"」 ── ❝ 'You like being hunted, don't you, little thing?' he said. 'You like knowing you drag the fucking monster out of me just by breathing.' ❞ ── Cyril Roosevelt doesn't belong at L'Académie Sainte-Marie-a prestigious Parisian university for the rich and powerful. He's poor. Shy. Soft. The scholarship student that nobody takes seriously. But someone is watching him. He starts getting gifts. Blood red roses with no sender. Handwritten letters calling him his little mouse. Messages from an unknown number that seem to know exactly where he is. Exactly what he's wearing. Exactly how fast his heart is beating. And then there's Deimos King. The mafia prince everyone fears. The monster Cyril can't outrun. But what scares Cyril most isn't Deimos's reputation. It's the way Deimos looks at him. Like he owns him. Like he's been waiting for him. The walls close in when Cyril receives an invitation to a secluded mansion. Masked faces, and a Halloween party that feels more like a trap. 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 has a name. And it's coming for him.