Has Uvogin Ever Lost An Arm Wrestling Match In Phantom Troupe?

“Does your husband know you’re taking my cock and moaning my name like a good bad girl? Does he know?” My toes curled as his deep octave dropped sensation into my body, p**sy dripping with every thrust he made deeper into my c*unt. My back arched off the bed, and my lips parted… body trembling as every thrust moved me closer to my orgasm. * I didn’t mean to fuck him, but I did. And one night of reckless pleasure suddenly turned into reality. It should have been nothing but a nightmare… but what happened when that nightmare came back as your nemesis, taking and claiming you in every corner… right where your husband could hear you? I should not want him. I should not like the way his lips part my legs open. I should not like the way his tongue moved against my skin, or the way he parted me open and ruined me till I’m nothing but a trembling mess… but I did. Because he made sure I realized how helpless every inch of my body longed for him. This is not your road to salvation. This is your way to damnation. And here… we offer smut and plot, so join me as I drip, wipe, and smirk. Thank you.

It was the tenth year of the Mechanical Civilization. My girlfriend, who always spoiled her brother to an unreasonable extent, orchestrated my death. Luckily, I was reborn seven days before the arrival of the machines. I bought a heavy-duty truck and evolved the strongest mecha. Close-combat mecha, long-range mecha, weapons, shields, funnels, modules… This time, I wanted the best of everything. My name is Victor Wild. Born to be a victor, born to be wild.

A bet. One scandal cost Alora Harper almost everything. She was a star student. All she ever cared about was working hard to achieve her dreams until Caden Steele popped into her life and almost ruined her. Now, she is determined to never let her guards down again. Caden Steele had always been a self-absorbed playboy but playing with Alora didn’t go as planned. Instead, it made him unable to function without her. Now, he is determined to win her back. But it might just be too late!

Two months remained until debut evaluation night. Before our unit performance, our main dancer suddenly offered me her center position. I stared at her, confused, "The trainers always praise your stage presence. Why give up your spot?" "You... you deserve center more than I do." Her smile was painfully forced, and she was fidgeting with her practice clothes - obviously not saying what she really felt. Puzzled by her strange behavior, I asked, "Are my moves too big? Am I making it hard for you to perform?" She suddenly started shaking, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes. After what felt like forever, she finally choked out, "Please, just stop. I won't try to compete with you for center anymore!"

It was at our engagement banquet that I finally learned the truth. I wasn't the true heiress of a noble human family. I wasn't the "fated bride" destined to bear a half-blood child for the vampires. I was just the wrong baby someone had brought home from the hospital. A fake. I'd thought that Alexander, the boy who'd risked his life to drag me out of a burning house, the boy I'd grown up beside, would love me the same as always. Instead, in front of everyone, he let go of my hand and looked down at me with cold eyes. "Without that bloodline, do you really think you deserve to stand beside me?" Then he reached out and slid the engagement ring off my finger himself. He turned, and led the true heiress up to the high platform. Everyone laughed at me. The fake heiress, delusional enough to think she could marry the vampire heir. I was thrown out of the only home I'd ever known. The only kindness left to me was Alexander's, a scrap of charity that let me stay at his side as the lowest thing a vampire could keep. A blood slave. And then, later, I died in an explosion. Saving him. Alexander knelt in the blood and lost his mind, screaming at everyone around him to save me. But there was something he didn't know. I hadn't died. Later still, at a vampire banquet, he saw me again at last. I walked past him on another man's arm, smiling. And this time, it was his turn to lose his mind begging me to look back at him.

Dimitri Volkov is the Ice Prince of the Bratva—cold, calculating, and utterly untouchable. Nikolai Petrov is the Demon of the Syndicate—volatile, unpredictable, and obsessed with one thing: destroying Dimitri. For three years, their war has painted the city red. When a fragile truce is called, they meet on neutral ground at the Colosseum, an underground theater built for blood. But the meeting is a trap, and they're ambushed by a rival gang looking to take them both out. Forced to fight back-to-back to survive, they escape—barely. In the aftermath, something dark and dangerous begins to grow between them. The hatred is still there, but now it's laced with obsession, with desire, with a need that neither of them understands. When the tension finally breaks and they collide, it's explosive. But just as everything is about to happen, they realize the problem: they're both tops. Now they have to decide—do they walk away from the fire between them? Or do they rewrite the rules of the game and discover that surrender isn't weakness, but the most powerful move of all?