Silva wants what he shouldn't have and takes what he can't desire. He should've known. Irisa offsets the brittle balance of diabolical cruelty, but it's a forgivable transgression that he's willing to make an exception for. She's a simple girl with a special smile; something opposite of him as it burns into his skin with regret. Regret that he doesn't have her. He doesn't know if he wants to kiss the smile away or wrap his hand around her fragile neck until the light fades to black. He's a nightmare wrapped in visceral ink, a frighteningly obsessive man with missing morals. Silva would rip his heart out if she asks; he is selfishly generous to her whims. *** This contains sensitive material that will be triggering to some, reader discretion is advised. Mature contents. Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown

"𝐀𝐡, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲." The death of her best friend, the man whom she adores, compels Seraphina Hearts to head back home to attend the funeral. Yet, how can the school chit properly mourn if her late best friend's creepy older brother whom she avoids won't stop obsessing over her? His predatory eyes always watch her every move, even up to her sleep.

{The Wattys Awards Shortlist} The Saint's Brotherhood motorcycle club was known all over town, they were ruthless. They were feared, they got their reputation from one member in particular, one member that was so unbelievably intriguing and mysterious, people made legends and stories about him. They didn't know his name, didn't know who he was, where he came from, and they didn't know what he looked like for he wore a mask. The man himself struck fear into everyone he meant, he was the club's personal Devil. But she was okay with him.

❛ he had loved her for years, centuries, eons even. he had loved her from the very first touch, from the very first word upon her sweet lips. ❜ all grayson had ever wanted was his chryssie.

"I want to defile you, destroy you, corrupt you in the most sinfully beautiful way. Break you until you're completely mine." "And then?" "Then I'll piece you back together, of course." He took another step in her direction, closing the distance between them. "Love can be holy." He said but the look in his eyes promised anything but. "It can be kind and gentle. It can be the flutter inside your chest when you feel someone touch you, the blush staining your cheeks when someone brushes his knuckles over them." To prove his point further, he took his knuckles and brushed them over her sharp jawline, all the way to her lightly dusted cheeks and sharp cheekbones. "However, love can also be vile. Dark and all-consuming. The kind of love that makes you want to fall to your knees and let it destroy you." He let his palm rest on her soft skin and felt the warmth she provided so carelessly travel to him. "That's all I can offer you." Nathaniel Russ is a man devoid of passion. Cold, stern, a tragedy with skin. A wreckage just seconds before the crash. A writer. He spends countless hours teaching philosophy at the local university, waiting for something to make the words crawl out of him with the same vigorous appetite they once did. And he finds it, at the most unexpected moment. Guinevere Westbrook is a woman haunted by the sins of her past. And she just happens to be the muse he had been waiting for, even though she refuses to accept it. So, he orchestrates a game meant for two. A game. That's all it was. Until it wasn't. Adult themes, proceed with caution. All images belong to their respective owners. Source: Pinterest.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

They never told you that the monster under your bed could have a set of beautiful forest green eyes and an angelic smile. -a story in which a girl is taken by a notorious gang member that lives beneath the world's feet. THIS IS A TRILOGY BOOK (1/3) *COMPLETED* HIGHEST RANKINGS #1 in harrystyles #1 in fanfiction #1 in one direction NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS FOR THIS OR THE REST OF THE TRILOGY! MATURE READ! ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @happydays1d/// CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT. READ AT OWN RISK///

"What would you like me to play; The violin or your pussy?" • • • He lived on the street. They called him a tramp. He slept with trash and found his meals in the garbage. Nobody knew who he was. Melody knew the moment she met him, something about him was off. Something about him was missing. Impassive and unpredictable, he always lurked around, his hulking figure a wandering question mark on the streets of New York. But give him a violin and watch him play...

Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To others and to himself. Loyal to his King and the club he craves for the liberation death will bring him. Till he meets Iris. Iris has escaped Hell and lives out on the streets till she surprises everyone and becomes a mechanic for the Riders. Afraid of her own shadow, plagued by the terrifying memories she never feels safe. Until she meets Rage.