Alex Shade is a dream-eater. A weak variety of incubus, dream-eaters need the energy from human dreams to survive. Alex has a special affinity for nightmares, but it makes his life a living hell: in order to absorb the energy, he has to experience the dream. He's learned to turn this to his advantage, though, and sells his services as a "nightmare doctor" to those whose sleep is tormented by the inventions of the unconscious mind. One day he's hired by a man whose dreams are worse than any he's encountered before, and Alex is torn between a desire to help and the need to preserve his own sanity. But when he's finally pushed into making a choice, he discovers that he may not have one, after all. - [Advisory/Warnings: This story contains strong language, some violence, and some sex. Rated Mature] - This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

When Alistair Melek gave his life to the sea, a various degree of things changed. For starters, his love for bloodshed was exemplified. Bolder. He was drawn to the clash of a sword, blood spiling below to floorboards, like a moth drawn to a flame. And this love was damned to spread through his crew as some treacherous disease, claiming any and all who joined. But he knew this was the price he'd pay. The price for the sea itself. So when his crew completes another standard loot and pillage from a merchant ship, he allows his men a bit of fun. He liked to give them an audience, rounding up those who didn't fall victim to the blade during battle, and forcing them to beg for their lives. To prove how much they really wanted to live. Alistair had ruled the sea for some years now. Killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Destroyed hundreds, maybe thousands of vessels. And yet, each feeble human was all the same. There was not one man he threatened that didn't beg for their lives with all they had in them when faced with the wrong end of the sword. Each feeble human was always the same. Or so he thought. And yet, he also thought that this would be one standard job. A treat for his men after a night of good work. But this particular survivor, the one with long white hair and dead looking eyes... He wasn't a merchant. He couldn't have been. More important, there was no hesitancy when Alistair asked the fairly built man whether he wanted to live, and the man replied with a simple no.

The alliance between the Red Stoichi Tribe and the Westerners has outlived the memories of any living Dakyre- it is as old as the realm itself. This is the story of how said alliance affects the lives of two Dakyres destined to be together. Faldrey, a water Stoichi Dakyre, loses his entire family in one day- on the day of the reoccurring Westian raids. Despite trying so hard to at least save himself, he's still gets captured and hoisted away to the Red Stoichi Tribe where he becomes a personal maid servant to the Young Mistress; the Young Tal Dane's twin sister. Eren, son of the Tal Dane, heir to the Throne of Fire, and Young Tal Dane of the Red Stoichi Tribe, finds himself powerless against what has now become the norm in the realm. Unable to get his father to reconsider their alliance with the Westies, he pays the ultimate price for speaking against them in the presence of the council of Lords. Eren and Faldrey, the eighth reincarnations of Alistair and Theobald; two cursed Ao lovers, are about to experience their first raid which wouldn't just bring them together, it would change their lives forever. A vengeful Dakyrian army, one never seen in the realm, is coming for the Tal Dane, and two lovers stand at the risk of losing everything they've built together. What does fate have in store for these two Dakyres a realm and a heartbeat apart? •Make sure to read the well detailed preamble in the book.• _________________________________________________________ NOTE: Dakyres are "people of old magic" I came up with whilst eating a bad combo of pringles and ketchup at 3am. I implore you to give this story a chance. I promise you won't be disappointed. Make sure to check the comprehensive glossary at the end for whatever confuses you.

"did you just say two gays were murdered up in this bitch?"

"Like I said before, nothing is for free. I'll give you all the information you need if you give me your body." When a mission goes south, the only way Zayne had to keep his team safe was to let the mafia take the hostages. But Zayne still wanted the information, so he made a deal with the mafia boss, not knowing what he was getting himself into. [COMPLETED] 21/6/21 highest ranking !! #1 in yaoismut #1 in cops #3 in policeofficer #4 in MxM

Making your way to the top is never easy, and for Trey the problems begin when he meets his competition and lead swimmer of the team: Bennett Scott. The pair immediately becomes entangled in a web of heated arguments, lies, and loathing. Yet somewhere along the journey, Trey discovers more about himself than he could've ever imagined... And that's when the tides begin to change. (**MxM novel. I own no rights to the cover photo.**)

"You like it, baby?" Ambrose purred in Kyree's ear, "I picked the colour out just for you, remembered just how much you like it on me," Kyree groaned as Ambrose caught his earlobe between his teeth, biting down hard enough that he knew there would be a mark. "Out," Kyree demanded the tailor, pleased with how fast the little man scuttled from the room. The second Kyree heard the door click shut, he pressed Ambrose against the wall to the left of them, covering the demon's mouth with his own. Ambrose complied with a soft moan and a tug of Kyree's hair, his other hand clutching the lapel of Kyree's suit, as if holding himself up for fear his knees may buckle. Kyree's mouth trailed down Ambrose's neck, leaving one deep purple bruise after another across his demon's tanned skin. Ambrose's mewls and purrs were loud, then again, Ambrose always was loud, he knew it turned Kyree on. Kyree was marking his lover, knowing that all eyes would be on them tonight, he wanted everyone to know what was his. "Mine," he murmured against Ambrose's abused flesh, nipping at the place just below his lover's jaw, marvelling in the primal groan that resonated through him. "Yours," Ambrose agreed, his chest heaving as his breath got taken from him by another quick nip across his throat from Kyree, "forever, baby," Kyree took a step back, admiring the myriad of mauve marks littered across Ambrose's throat. Purple was Kyree's favourite colour on Ambrose... {Book One of the Inamorate Series} This book is dedicated to my editor, illustrator and best friend Daisy for always being there for me and putting up with my shit. {Credit to her also for the cover art and all illustrations throughout}.

"Very good, Wesley," he breathed, the warm air fanning across the merchant captain's face. "Now I suggest you listen closely because I don't do this very often." Wesley curiosity grew, though he kept a healthy degree of skepticism as he listened to the pirate. "I'm prepared to offer you a deal." "What kind of deal?" he asked, his heart racing. "I seem to have found something that I want even more than your ship's cargo," he said with an unsettling smirk. "And I am prepared to let what remains of your crew sail free if I get it." "Name your price," Wesley said, at this point ready to agree to anything if his crew would live. Valentine reached out and tilted Wesley's head up so he could get a better view of it. His smirk seemed to grow as he let one little word slip through his lips. "You." *This is an LGBTQ+ story*

Kairo was once a well-respected individual who prioritized family and friendships. Despite losing everyone he love and adored, he kept pushing forward, advancing his career, becoming someone everyone could talk to and depend on. As the last of his kind he strived to be an exemplary member of society. Until one day everything was ripped out from under him and he was abducted, sold to a superior, alien race. This is an 18+ story and will sexual content.

"You're lying." Zavier spoke so low that even he barely heard his words himself. "Huh?" He picked up the volume of his voice this time, "You're lying." "No I'm not." "Okay, so if I was to come this close-" Zavier lifted Isaac's face by his chin and brought his face close to his. "- You would feel nothing." Isaac's nerves began to rise a bit, but maybe it was because of the alcohol that he wasn't terrified, "Yes. Exactly that." He agreed. "Even if our lips-" Zaviers lips brushed his, increasing his heart rate rapidly. It didn't last long, but it was enough to send Isaac's mind into a frenzy. "-brushed like this, you wouldn't feel anything." Isaac couldn't trust his voice, so just nodded, being full aware of the fact his cheeks were most definitely glowing red. "You lie a lot Isaac." Zavier whispered against his lips and leaned closer, making it look like he was about to close the gap. Isaac's eyes closed, expecting a pair of lips to meet his, but he was instead met with a bit of breeze from Zavier leaning backwards. A story where two boys find they have more in common than they'd like to think.