King of Shadows
- LECTURES 26,476
- Votes 523
- Chapitres 37
Contenu pour adultesEn cours d'écriture4h 17m
Dernière publication dim., avr. 19, 2026
The woods were my home-quiet, safe, and far from the reach of monsters. Until the day they came for me.
Dragged from the only life I knew, I was taken to a castle ruled by King Vaelorn-a monster whispered to be more legend than man, feared even by his kind. They say his golden eyes can freeze the air, his wrath can level villages, and his cruelty has no equal.
I swore I would keep my head down, stay invisible, and survive. But the closer I get to him, the more I feel his gaze burning through me, unraveling every ounce of fear I have left.
He's dangerous. He's inhuman. And no matter how much I should run, something inside me keeps pulling me toward him... toward the one thing I fear most.
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Vampire's Pet
The world had gone to hell long ago, taken over by the vampire race. In order to keep some sort of peace in our land, the Vampire Lords made a consecutive agreement. The rich and powerful humans could survive just as they had been, untouched by the vampires save for the occasional blood collections, or so they thought In reality, we were all under their control. Castles spread out throughout our land, one landing in each city. Each castle varied in the number of vampires residing there, but all of them carried a Lord. The Lords were the ones in charge in every city, whether we liked it or not. The vampires often roam through the city, making sure that everyone was in order and no one stepped out of line. If you stepped out of line, you died, end of story. Even if the rich were still under their control, their lives were still better than the poor. The poorest lives held a much worse fate. The men were to be put to work as slaves, whether that meant serving a specific vampire, or just building their castles, they were slaves. The women were to be pets. Pets were the lowest rank you could have. They were forced into cages that were too small to stand in with collars around their necks. They spent their lives in pet shops, just waiting for the dreadful day that they'll be bought. They were treated like animals, trained into what their master wanted, and punished if they misbehaved. Those who were lucky enough to live through that, we're to be slaughtered for their blood at age twenty-five in an act to make sure that our population would stay steady. I was born into this world. Born into this world full of blood-sucking monsters. Except, I was one of the lucky ones. Was. It all ended for me when I was 12, when I was taken away from the last bit of hope and family that I had left. Ever since then, I've lived in a cage, just rotting away, waiting, dreading for the day that some monster would make me his. This is my life. I am a pet. ~~~ Cover by: @mshacakeTerminé
WARHAVEN
His irises swirled slowly, an enticing pale silver against his stark black lashes. They illuminated slightly, so quick it was gone in a blink. He broke our eye contact, lifting his head straight. A darkly amused expression appeared. It happened so quickly it seemed like a mask appeared. I blinked myself out of my trance, and turned on my heel to see what was at the receiving end of his humor. Augustus stood there. His face contorted into anger as he took in my ruined dress. His hands shook in his fury. "Roman." Augustus nearly snarled the name. "Have you come to join us, little King? The party was just getting started." So his name was Roman, some big secret. I rolled my eyes at the reveal as well as his taunting sentence. "Davina, what is going on here?" Augustus asked, his eyes full of betrayal. I had never seen him so guarded. I could feel his anger through my bones. His words were careful. What was he talking about? My brows furrowed at the insinuation, "What?" A line of smoke floated around my right shoulder and come between Augustus and I. How convenient. I had the desire to swipe it away but didn't. "What can I say, she...seduced me." Roman purred. His voice was a sensual whisper in my left ear. I subconsciously lifted my shoulder and backed away from it. Not only because he had lost his fucking mind, but also because it shot down my spine, caressing my skin. ** This book contains mature content. I will not give a maturity warning in advance, besides this one. The list of trigger warnings is as follows: DARK THEMES/violence/sex/mature language/r*pe/blood/beatings/war/torture/death/dominance/weapons/selfharm/suicide ** This book is 100% my original work. Any parallels between this writing, and another book are strictly coincidental.Terminé
I see you (REWRITTEN/ COMPLETE) #thewattys2023
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Reaping The Red Heir
He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*Terminé
Darkmoon Pack (Werewolves)
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I Am Sarah Owens
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REVERiE - the man with whiskey
"Well, whatever you do, I'm sure it'll be great," he said, his smile lingering. "You deserve to have an amazing time." His words made me blush a little, and I was about to reply when I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I glanced toward the corner, where Mr. Whiskey Guy was sitting. Only this time, his gaze wasn't just lingering. It was burning. His eyes were locked on Mark, sharp and intense, and for the first time, I felt a real chill. There was something different about him now, something I couldn't quite name, but it sent a ripple of unease through me. I was about to look away, when he slowly shook his head at me, his eyes burning with something that looked closest to anger. It looked like a warning, and I froze, staring back at him, as he tiled his head, watching me intensely. The fuck? "You okay?" Mark asked, his voice pulling me back to the present. "Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just got a little distracted." Mark nodded, his expression softening as he leaned a little closer. "Well, if you need a break or want to chat, I'm around." He reached out and lightly touched my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, but it was enough to snap me out of the moment. Because across the room, I heard the sharp scrape of a chair against the floor. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was now on his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch. His eyes, dark, angry, met mine for the briefest moment, and I swear the air in the room thickened. He didn't say a word, but it made me feel like I fucked up big time. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a bang that made everyone in the bar pause for a second.
College? No, this was paradise. Three years filled with partying, not so secret underground drug-deals, and hot-headed men sliding into beds like snakes with no self-control. Things were different now. I wasn't that perfect, frill-wearing angel Mama thought would walk into the house ring-beared. So many things had changed, except for one. Him. He was a disease, one I couldn't get rid of no matter how hard I tried. Everytime he's near, I feel myself turn into something I've never seen before. Like there's something under my skin only he is capable of bringing out. He's manipulative, twisted, and completely wrong in every way. I hate him. Yet every night, from miles away, I find him in my dreams. Mikhail Volkov Fuck the patriarchy. Better yet, fuck everything and everyone. It was a game of cat and mouse, me chasing victories every single day. The Bratva's constant want for war was what kept the fuel in my blood, burning up into flames whenever my knuckles made contact with another opponent. In the end, I'm always the one left standing. This fire in my bones, I feel it burst into flames while every dark memory, thought and desire runs into my fists. So many medals, but only the people around me could see them. The real battle was against my head. And maybe, just maybe, I was afraid to admit that I had no chance in winning it. She makes it harder. An angel with wings to everyone else, yet a master at unveiling those devil's horns only when I'm near. There's this darkness, this fire, in the both of us. The only difference is, she's better at hiding it. She was gone, far away, yet there was this tether dowsed in fuel connecting us, one that only lit up when she came back. Every time she's near, I feel the limits surrounding my wrath being tested. Then again, rules are only made to be broken, right? Mafia Dark Romance *Standalone*
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