Esme Merrow thought the most dangerous thing in her life was herself. The way she moved through nights without thinking, let strangers touch her just to feel something, the way she avoided silence like it could expose her. At twenty, her life is messy, loud, and temporary-coffee-stained mornings, reckless decisions, and memories she never fully keeps. She doesn't notice patterns, look behind her and realize someone else already is. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Katarina Ivanova is not a rumor. She is a name whispered in the wrong places. A Russian mafia boss who built her empire on control, precision, and fear. Cold, calculating, and completely untouchable. She doesn't chase chaos-she creates order out of it. When Katarina wants something...she takes it with no hesitation, permission and no way of escaping her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ So tell me, angel. If a Russian mafia boss decided you belong to her... if she knew everything about you before you even noticed her... Would you fight? Or would you realize too late that you were never free to begin with? ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Warnings: 18+,smut, explicit language and sex scenes, torture, sick obsession, drugs, alcohol, invading personal space, manipulation and gaslighting, psychotic behavior, torture, kidnapping, etc. You're reading this on your own responsibility!

𝗳𝗲𝗺𝘅𝗳𝗲𝗺 • 𝘄𝗹𝘄 • 𝗴𝘅𝗴 One private lap dance from a stripper couldn't turn into anything more...right? • • • • • • STARTED: 2023, MAY 6 FINISHED: N/A

Skater Losers #2: Mrs Campbell Rachel Addams Dramatic, loud, unapologetically extra. The girl who turns every English class into her personal theater stage and every group chat into a roast session. Four years ago she walked into Mrs. Campbell's freshman English class and felt her stomach drop. Since then it's been slow torture lingering after the bell with questions, doodling Jennifer's initials in the every notebook, blushing crimson whenever Jennifer smiles at her answer, memorising the exact shade of green in her favorite cardigan. She tells herself it's just a crush. A harmless, hopeless, four-year-long crush. But every time Jennifer says "good work, Rachel" in that quiet, warm voice or accidentally brushes their fingers Rachel feels the lie crack a little more. What if it's not just a crush? What if the way Jennifer sometimes holds her gaze a second too long means something? Jennifer Campbell 26. Full-time teacher straight after grad school. Quietly confident, dryly funny, intelligent about books and people. She noticed Rachel the first week of freshman year how the girl lit up when they discussed The Great Gatsby. Jennifer has known for four years. She's not blind. She sees everything. Jennifer has kept every boundary sharp and professional. She tells herself it's just admiration. But lately senior year the excuses are wearing thin. Jennifer knows better. She knows the rules. She knows power dynamics. And yet. Every time their fingers brush when Jennifer hands back a graded paper and when Rachel speaks in that soft voice, Jennifer feels the line she's drawn start to blur. What if waiting until after graduation still feels too late? Will they finally cross the line they've both been staring at for four years or will they keep pretending it's nothing until it's too late? Most impressive rankings 🥇#1 in femxfem -17/02/26 🥇#1 in lesbianfiction - 21/02/26

𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. Elowyn Livingston never expected to end up in a courtroom, much less accused of a crime she didn't commit. Innocent, Slick, yet hopelessly out of her depth, she finds herself thrust into a world of lies, betrayal and the one woman who might just save her..𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 Valentin Sinclair doesn't lose. Cold, commanding, and impossible to outmaneuver, she built her reputation on control-especially in the courtroom. She never takes cases she doesn't choose herself, and she certainly doesn't choose people lightly. So when Valentin personally selects Elowyn as her client, it sends one clear message. #1 of the verdict book series.

After uprooting her life with her daughter Freya, Selah moves to a quiet town in search of peace, privacy, and a fresh start. What she doesn't expect is Estella Voss-Freya's composed, guarded elementary school teacher. Their worlds were never meant to overlap beyond polite parent-teacher exchanges, but something unspoken sparks in a single look. As boundaries blur and tension simmers, both women must confront what they're running from... and what they might be running toward.

"I can't do this anymore. You have to choose" This is definitely not a question I've been prepared for but I definitely knew this was coming at some point, not now though. I don't know what I want to choose yet. I like them both. Which one is better for me though? --- This story will contain: (warnings) -detailed sexual content -sexual assault/harassment -mention of suicide -alcohol, weed, drugs etc. -family/relationship issues -mental health issues -addiction

An infuriating smirk. Boundaries shattered. For Romy, her new professor is everything she should avoid. Ms. Davenport is protective, commanding, and possesses a deep emotional intensity. As they fall into a secretive, magnetic loop of stolen moments, their private world begins to feel like the only thing that matters. But when hidden insecurities and outside threats close in, they are forced to face the reality of what happens when a love burns too fiercely to hide. Are some lines truly meant to be crossed?

CeoxAssistant|gxg|slowburn|15 years age gap He leaned over her desk for fourteen minutes. Amalia didn't remember his name by the time Nadia was done with her. "What's his name?" "I don't knowww" Amalia whined. "Good girl." She wiped the smudged lipstick from Amalia's mouth with her thumb like a statement. Then walked the entire length of the office, poured water, walked back. Set it down. Amalia looked at it. Looked at Nadia. Raised both shoulders toward her ears and turned her face away. "You're being ridiculous, Amalia." But Amalia didn't budge. Nadia picked her up. Sat back down with Amalia settled against her, tipped the glass to her lips, kissed her once between every sip. Unhurried. Like this was completely reasonable. It was the most spoiled thing Amalia had ever allowed. She allowed all of it. "More." she said when the glass was empty. "Brat." "Your brat." Nadia didn't answer. She didn't have to. She just went to get more water. Amalia Peters. 20. Never carried her own bag. Never pumped her own gas. Never eaten a meal that wasn't placed in front of her like an offering. Beautiful. Brilliant. Completely aware of both. Then June took her parents and left her in a house so quiet she talked to empty chairs. She got a job not because she needed money because the silence was unbearable. She pouted through the entire interview. Got hired anyway. Nadia Crane. 35. Looks 25. Stopped being flattered by that around thirty. On paper - CEO. Empire builder. Never raises her voice. Off paper - cargo that moves at night. Contracts nobody signs twice. A stillness that has ended careers, companies, and at least three men's entire futures. She runs several companies. Only some are legal. She watched Amalia Peters sigh at a waiting room chair like it had wronged her ancestors. And hired her on the spot. Her parents spoiled her. Her boss ruined her beyond repair. #1 in spoiled. #1 in intersex. #1 in gl. #1 in lesbianlgbt #1 in sapphic

"Ruin the world?" "I mean yeah, we could do that." ⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻ When Faith - a 21 year old detective - finds herself wrapped up in one of the most life threatening cases in New York, the last thing she expects to do is take in 15 year old Alyona - the daughter of New York's most dangerous mafia boss. ⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻ "Delinquent, huh?" He raises his brows, completely ignoring my threat covered in design of a warning. "Would you rather criminal?" I return. "I'd rather you not jump to conclusions based on my appearance." He deadpans. "Am I wrong?" He scoffs slightly, looks to the side to reveal a sharp jawline before looking back at me, "I'm not here to take her," He changes the subject, "I just need to make sure she's alive and well." ⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻

Dr Alexandria Byrne had once believed that tenderness was a kind of safety. A shelter. A promise. Then someone she loved broke that promise, and the aftershocks hollowed her out in ways she still couldn't speak of. Now, years later, she carried herself with the calm precision of someone who could not afford softness again. Her voice clipped, her posture immaculate, her emotions tucked away as neatly as the papers on her desk. Her colleagues called her distant. Students called her cold. But she called it survival. She never imagined the girl who would unravel all of it had already stepped onto campus-heart bruised, hands trembling, carrying a grief heavier than her rucksack. They would meet in a storm, though neither knew it yet.