Bleach X Male Reader

Dipenjara dalam istana bernama pernikahan, Indah tak tahu siapa yang lebih menakutkan antara keluarga Abraham atau pria yang kini menjadi suaminya—Dhananjaya Abraham, pria yang tak hanya dingin, tapi juga misterius. Pernikahan mereka bukan tentang cinta, melainkan kontrak: uang untuk nyawa, rahim untuk pewaris. Di balik megahnya nama Abraham, Indah hidup dalam bayang-bayang hinaan dan tatapan penuh caci. Namun siapa sangka, justru pria yang paling ia takuti... kelak akan menjadi satu-satunya pelindung saat dunia mulai menghancurkannya dari dalam.

Dalam perjalanan hidup yang penuh tekanan, Fazia Azara terpaksa menjual masa depannya demi masa depan yang lain. Sementara itu, Mirza Kalandra Rajasa, pria yang sedang terluka akibat patah hati, menemukan pelipur lara dalam kehadiran Fazia. Di lain waktu, takdir membawa mereka bertemu kembali di tempat yang tak seharusnya. Tatapan yang dulu hangat kini penuh salah paham, dan perasaan yang pernah tumbuh kini tercabik oleh prasangka. Ketika ego, masa lalu, dan kenyataan berbenturan, bisakah dua insan yang saling menyakiti menemukan arti cinta? Atau mereka akan tenggelam dalam luka yang mereka ciptakan sendiri?

Three years ago, Moon-Lake Pack — once a proud member of Lupus Celestial, the central pack alliance — lost everything in a brutal defeat to the Rogue Packs that had long plagued us. The Lycan King believed my father — the Alpha of Moon-Lake — had conspired with the Rogues, and our pack paid the price. My father and I were enslaved and cast out, becoming the laughingstock of all the packs. Even my mate, Chase, turned his back on me. But three years later, I was sent back to Lupus Celestial by Chase’s order — just as he was preparing to bond with his future Luna. Everyone assumed I had returned to sabotage the ceremony. “Taryn, do you still think you stand a chance of becoming his Luna?” “Chase never liked you. He’s always adored Wynette.” “Why would you show up now — just before he bonds with his mate?” Warnings, veiled threats, and even silent beatings made one thing painfully clear: I was not welcome. And Chase — the one I had once believed was my fated mate, the one I’d felt an unexplainable pull toward — stood by, cold and detached, watching it all in silence. His eyes held nothing but loathing. “You still think you can live freely outside Lupus Celestial after betraying us time and again? What exactly are you plotting at my bonding ceremony?” I let out a bitter laugh and wiped the blood from my lips. He didn’t know my wolf had been gravely wounded by a silver dagger — and I didn’t have much time left. “Don’t worry. If I hadn’t been dragged back, I’d never have returned. And if I truly wanted to cause trouble, I’d have killed myself first.” Chase didn’t respond. He just scoffed. But when I walked away — from his pack, from his world — he was the one who crumbled. He begged me to return, as if losing me shattered something deep inside him.

An 18-year wait. A forbidden bond. A love he refuses to claim. What if your niece turned out to be your mate? Seventeen-year-old Zara, a rare Dragon-Were-Vamp hybrid, never expected to fall for the one man she shouldn't: her cold, ruthless uncle — Alpha Jax Stone, the most feared Alpha of the Diamond Heart Pack. But fate doesn’t care about bloodlines. For 18 years, Jax has fought the pull of the mate bond, trying to suppress his wolf’s obsession with the girl he swore to protect. In his desperate attempt to deny destiny, he wounds not only his fated mate—but himself. As the bond tightens and the wait comes to an end, bitter pasts resurface. A rising wave of supernatural drug trafficking, kidnappings of teenage dragons, and the dark secrets of Alpha Kai Stone pull them into a deadly mission where love might not survive. Now, Jax and Zara must face the greatest threat of all—not just a powerful enemy lurking in the shadows, but the impossible love they can no longer run from. Uncle by Blood. Mate by Moon. Monster by Choice.

Fauchée et au bord du désespoir, Malia accepte un poste mystérieux d’assistante personnelle pour un homme qu’elle n’a jamais vu. Elle pensait signer pour un job banal… jusqu’à ce qu’elle découvre son patron : Aydan Deveraux, un milliardaire aussi séduisant qu’arrogant. Froideur, tension, ordres étranges — Malia est prise dans un jeu de pouvoir où chaque regard la consume et chaque mission la trouble. Mais ce contrat cache des clauses qu’elle n’a jamais lues… et des secrets qui pourraient tout détruire. Entre passion, secrets et limites dangereuses, ce contrat pourrait changer sa vie à jamais.

To save my wife, my lungs were pierced by a knife, leaving lasting consequences. When I fell ill and struggled to breathe, she said I was dramatic and went on a business trip with her childhood friend. When she returned, I found a man's underwear in her suitcase that did not belong to me. I calmly made the call: "Director, I've made up my mind. I'm going to assist in Avrika." Later, at the airport, she bent down, publicly lowering her head and begging for my forgiveness.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.