Btr All Over Again Novels & Stories

Marcus Thorne wears several masks in his life—playing retired pirate, Captain Hawk, is his favorite, but if his secret is discovered, he could die. Captivated by his enemy’s daughter, Marcus kidnaps her, but in return, she captures his heart…until he discovers Isabelle is one of Napoleon’s spies with the power to endanger his life and the lives of his friends. After her release, Isabelle can’t stop thinking about her masked abductor and how he’d stolen her heart before ridding her of his presence. Betrothed to a man who strangely reminds her of the man whose kisses set her ablaze, she marries him, only to discover he’s not who he seemed to be as he is withholding secrets. But then…so is she.

Azalea Hart spent everything she had on taking care of her sick brother. No parents, no family, just a cruel stepsister who feeds her and bullies her every now and then. However, a light appeared at the end of her tunnel during one of he brother's sick days... "You're not almost dead... You're already dead!" Edwin Clark whispered eeriely as he sank his fangs into the nape of her neck. Azalea chocked, almost dying but his eyes had changed, filled with nothing but regret of.... What have I done? "You... You're my mate?" Fuck it! Azalea know nothing about mates. The burning pain has turned into horny sensation and the young virgin craves nothing.... But his touch. She touched him. He became obsessed.... No. Obsession is an understatement, he became mad. "My Mr Vampire, has gone mad, again" she would whisper anytime she met herself on his bed. But his appearance gradually becomes more than she anticipated.

On the day of the United Nations meeting, I noticed a new electronic watch on my wife’s wrist. She said it was a gift from her first love to monitor her health. It was a veiled jab, which implied I was not as thoughtful or caring as an outsider. Something felt off, so during her lunch break I secretly checked, and found a bugging device. I reported it immediately, using my official title to cover her wrongdoing. Her first love, however, was now wanted by the authorities. While fleeing, he tragically died in a car accident. My wife said coldly that it served him right, yet treated me with even more care and attention. However, she deliberately leaked my translation files at work, which resulted in me being accused of espionage and taken in for investigation. “Miles, that bug was clearly planted by you. You were jealous of Ash and wanted him dead!” “I truly regret giving up Ash to marry someone as malicious as you. You should go to hell and atone for him!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back there once again on the day her first love gave her that watch. I did not interfere this time. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers.

Natalie Underwood and Damian Abbott were high school sweethearts. Both of them were the most good-looking students back in high school, and when they began dating, they were the most well-known golden couple on campus. There was once when they had made a vow to get married once they reached the legal age to do so. But just when their love for each other reached its peak, Natalie suddenly broke up with Damian before leaving the country with a rich scion. On the day of their break-up, Damian chased after Natalie for a very long time with red-rimmed eyes. To think that a young man as prideful as him kept begging her not to break up with him. He kept promising her that he would be successful one day. Damian begged Natalie not to act so rashly. He pleaded with her to wait for him and not to fall in love with someone else. But Natalie remained cold and aloof to him. She didn't even want to waste her breath on him. Heck, when she witnessed him getting into a car accident during his pursuit, she didn't bother returning to him. It was an extremely serious car crash. Damian's kidney was completely ruptured. He needed a kidney transplant in order to survive. Although he was lying on the surgical table while drenched in his own blood, he insisted on getting up so that he could call Natalie on the phone. But the calls that he had mustered all of his strength to place ended up getting hung up by Natalie repeatedly. For as deep as Damian's love for Natalie ran, hatred could run just as deep. From that day onward, Damien had nothing but burning hatred for Natalie.

For love, I followed Harrison, the underboss of the Moretti family, from halfway across the world. But for five whole years, my permanent residency application had gone nowhere. Several key steps required Harrison's personal involvement, but he always claimed he was too swamped with family business to find the time. Yet Cathy, my so-called stepsister, who was living on our estate, got her residency in just two short weeks. I only found out through the servants' gossip that Harrison had personally stepped in, pressuring a top immigration lawyer to rush it through. With my hopes completely shattered, I told him I wanted to go home. Harrison, a man who was always so proud, panicked. He pulled me into a fierce embrace, kissing my hair. "Aurora, you're my wife. Getting your permanent residency is just a matter of time." "But Cathy is different. She has no family to protect her. Without legal status, she could be deported at any moment." "Just do it for me. Stay. Okay?" Once again, I gave in to his tender words. Until today. I went to the immigration office alone to check on my file. The clerk stared at the screen, her face a mask of confusion. "Ma'am, the system clearly states that Mr. Harrison Moretti's legal spouse is... a Ms. Cathy." "Did you perhaps fill out your form incorrectly?" My world froze. So, the five years of waiting had all been a lie. I wasn't just denied permanent residency; my very marriage was a fraud. I didn't go back to the estate. I went straight to the airport and flew home. Before I boarded, the last message from him read: "Stop throwing a tantrum. Come home." But Harrison, we didn't have a home anymore.

She didn't realise just how much she was hated, she merely wanted love, she begged for it but at the end, she was merely a stand in for the fake daughter. The man she loved hated her, her family disliked her, her adopted sister killed her. However, when she gets a second chance, she doesn't allow anyone to walk over her! "You'll sacrifice your position at the company for your adopted sister, Rhea!" "You're the older sister, stop acting so dramatic and give way for your younger sister!" Her brother's and parents say to her, but she fights back and instead, makes her cry! But why the heck did this CEO change? He didn't come close to her previously! "Rhea, marry me and I'll make sure that everyone who touches you regrets it." "I'm not in the mood for marriage right now!" "You don't have to worry, I'll give you everything you want, even my properties." "Maybe marriage isn't such a bad idea after all..."

TRIGGER WARNING!! This book contains explicit, non-consensual sexual content, revenge rape, intense humiliation, degradation, forced orgasm, bully-victim power reversal, and other extreme dark themes.  It is written for readers who actively seek out this type of taboo erotica.  If any of those things will upset or harm you, please close the book now.  No part of this story should ever be replicated in real life. This isn't a love story. It's sex. It's Leo's revenge. Leo was never one of them. His father brought strangers into his home. Gianna, the woman he never married, and her three daughters: Beatrice, Sarah, and Avery. They weren't related to Leo. Not by blood, and definitely not by law. When his father died two years later, Leo lost his place in his house, he was turned into an errand boy, a servant. And what followed next, was two years of humiliation. Of being treated like a beggar in a home that once belonged to him. Of being reminded, every single day, that he was nothing. But what happens when Leo snaps? What happens when Leo discovers the ultimate secret that could get him everything he had once lost? He claims it all. (Note: This is the longer version of Leo's story. Fucking my step-family into submission)

My blood ran cold. Not just because of the words, they’d done worse than the scheme. They mocked me. Rewrote my pain as a punchline. Danced on the grave of my dignity like it was confetti. I staggered back from the door, suddenly aware of how my hands were trembling. Of how my chest rose and fell like I was still being dragged underwater. I could still feel it, the betrayal. The nights I cried myself sick. The baby. The blood. The gaslighting. The cold stares. The silence. No, this wasn’t just a memory. It was a resurrection. I pressed my hand to my chest, grounding myself. This body? This moment? It was mine now. Not theirs. Not his. If this was a curse, I’d break it. If this was a second chance? I’d weaponize it. Let them laugh. Let them bask in their borrowed joy. Because from this moment on, I’m not playing the quiet, obedient pawn. I’m the storm they tried to silence. The reckoning wrapped in silk and scars. They don’t deserve peace. Not after what they did to me. I’ll make them feel it. The same agony, the same betrayal. No, worse. Double. And the Kensingtons? Oh, they won’t be spared either. Their blood's just as soaked in my suffering. I lived by their rules in my last life. In this one? They live by mine. And mercy? Yeah, I left that behind in the last timeline.

One of my roommates at the dorm was a competitive person. Whenever I studied, she would be anxious. If I opened a package, she would ask me what I was buying. She would also pressure me to tell her my whereabouts. There was even a time when I turned in my bed, she suddenly opened my divider curtain and asked me if I was secretly studying. I was literally going to go insane, but our nonchalant counsellor told me that I was overreacting. After that, I failed to secure a postgraduate position, but she managed to study overseas. When she returned, she became my supervisor. She told everyone she met that I was a very competitive person, and she kept assigning a lot of tasks for me to do. In the end, I died from overworking. When I opened my eyes again, I saw her get into my bed. I recorded the sound of pages flipping and turned on the night light. I played the recording for the entire night. If she wanted to be anxious and lose her sleep, so be it!

Colter Giordano, my fiancé of six years, heir to the Giordano family, took a bullet for a dancer named Mia. He didn't take one for me. A bullet tore through my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my dress, hot and sticky. But my heart hurt worse. He asked if I was okay. Just once. Then he rushed Mia to the hospital, leaving me bleeding on the floor. The next day, Mia's picture popped up on my Instagram feed. There she was, in a luxury hospital suite. Colter was fussing over a scratch on her arm that was barely there. The caption was just two words: "My Hero." I liked the post. Then I made an encrypted call. "The Falcone family's offer," I said. "I'm taking it. Get me on a plane to Sicily. Three days."