Devoid Synonym Novels & Stories

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the

“The monster you’re talking about,” I muttered, my heart pounding furiously against my chest. “Let it out. I want to feel it,” He smirked, the type that sent shivers down your spine. The type that warned you ‘never make a deal with the devil’ kind. “Watch your tongue, darling,” His cold deep voice had its way of doing something to my stomach, especially when he laid threats. “I don't fuck like a gentleman. I also don't fuck like a monster,” he strides towards me, pinning his gaze on my body. “I fuck like the devil in your nightmares, and you’ll scream like I am your God.” A contract relationship. Signed by ink in words. It was supposed to be a contract, but it was a trap: “Both parties ex

" "You will bear my child, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse, I will make sure you suffer in ways you can't even imagine." In a blink of an eye, he had his hand around my neck. "Your silly little words won't stop me from punishing you," he sneered. "In fact, you've just given me another idea on what to do to you." He released his hold on me, and I coughed loudly, gasping for breath. "You should have just killed me, you devil." I managed to say. "You've tested my patience enough!" Seth barked. "I won't be needing this whip anymore, I guess." He threw the whip away, and the sound of it hitting the ground echoed in the room. “I know I said I will give you time to think about

"Promise me they will suffer for all they did to you." >>>> Emily. * "Five years ago, I made a vow to my best friend, that I would seek retribution against all those who wronged me in the past, who made me suffer and made my life miserable. However, after fleeing the country while pregnant, and giving birth to my little angel, while also finding success as a creative artist and finding love in a man who was starting to mend my broken heart, I decided to let go of my plans for vengeance. Part of me believed it was best to move on and leave the past behind, but another part still thirsty for revenge, determined to destroy those who wronged me in the past." >>> Hayley Forbes. *** Hayley's

"Miss Elara, get out of my class." The icy command snapped Elara back to reality. She shot to her feet so fast her chair screeched against the floor, her heart hammering against her ribs. She blinked wildly at the imposing figure commanding the front of the room: Professor Adrian Kingsley. Confusion flared before anger could. Why was she being kicked out? She hadn't said a word! She had been sitting there perfectly quietly... Well, quietly sketching. Her gaze drifted down to the open notebook on her desk. Right in the center of the page was an incredibly detailed, charcoal rendition of the professor himself. She had captured the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes, and, for reasons she c

Dark Mafia Scene “Who laid a hand on you? Dallion's voice was low, cold, and dangerous. His dark gaze bore into her, daring her to stay silent. When she didn’t respond, the tension snapped like a whip, his voice booming through the room, “Who?” The butler, standing rigid against the wall, swallowed hard before stammering out the words, “It... it was Mr. Rivers, sir.” The atmosphere turned deadly as Dallion's jaw clenched, fury igniting in his eyes. “Bring him to me.” The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “N-now, sir? It’s... it’s late.” Dallion's hand, once braced against the wall near her head, slowly curled into a fist. His eyes never left her face, h

He slid a paper across the table, his eyes cold. " Sign it." She blinked, confused. "Why?" "It’s our marriage certificate." He spoke as if discussing the weather. "I’ve already signed it. Your turn." Siya froze. **Marriage?** To a man like him? Her? A whore. Pregnant. She looked up at him, pleading. "I-I can be your maid. Do anything. Just… don’t hurt my baby." Her voice trembled, careful, trying to bargain with the devil himself. But Abhimanyu’s gaze was relentless, unmoved. His tone cut like ice. "I want you to sign it right now." Her heart hammered in her chest. "But… how… why me?" She stuttered, breaking. "I don’t want to marry you." She stood, defiance shaking her bo

"Yes, us. I don't want to marry you," Luna stated, her gaze fixed on Lucas's face, devoid of expression. "So, you're going to marry the pianist then?" Lucas guessed, causing Luna to become more certain that the man in front of her was already aware of everything. "Of course. I love him, so I will marry him," Luna replied, observing Lucas's reaction carefully. "But this time, I need this marriage," Luna continued, dismissing Lucas's scoffing smile. "And?" Lucas asked. "We'll make a prenuptial agreement," Luna declared. "Do you think I'll agree?" Lucas responded dismissively. "You have to agree. Whether you like it or not, we're going to make a prenuptial agreement," Luna

Warning: 18+, strong mature, and sexual content. Sneak peek: "I don't believe in God, Hailey," he murmured, as his firm hands settled on my hips and lifted me from his lap, placing me onto his desk, "But... if I did, I would have thanked him for making you." A soft gasp escaped my lips as his hands slid under my college skirt, his fingers brushing on my pussy over my panties. "Damien, you are my brother..." I managed to whisper amid overwhelming desires. This felt so wrong. He emitted a husky chuckle, leaning closer to my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "Correction-Stepbrother." "But-" Before I could utter a word, his hand swiftly slipped down inside my panties, his finger

To ransom my husband from the black market, I threw myself into relentless work, earning every penny I could. My son suffered alongside me, sharing in my exhaustion and deprivation. Years of malnutrition had left him vulnerable, and eventually, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I wept as I scraped together money from relatives and friends to pay for his chemotherapy. But on the way to the hospital, a sudden, unbearable pain wracked him. In his struggle, he accidentally bit off his own tongue and died in agony before we even reached the doors. I clutched my son's ashes and went straight to the black market, determined to use the borrowed money to bring my husband back. The moment I stepped