Does Yami Die Novels & Stories

Mom and Aunt Denise Taylor fell off the balcony in the midst of their heated argument. Dad rushed in just as they hit the ground, each with a broken arm. Without hesitation, he left Mom behind and hurriedly took Denise to the hospital instead. Later, Mom filed for divorce. Dad's face twisted in anger as he yelled, "Enough, Nicole! So what if you broke an arm and can't hold a scalpel anymore? What's the big deal? Dee is a genius designer. If she had lost her hand, her life would've been over! Of course, I had to save her first!" Watching all this in my ghostly state, I couldn't help but laugh. Did Dad really think that Mom had only lost the use of her hand? Mom didn't just lose her hand. She lost me. After all, I had severe heart failure, and the only person who could perform the life-saving surgery was Mom, the medical master herself. But none of that matters now, because I'm already gone.

When Joy Staton, my adoptive sister, fainted in the freezer on her birthday, William Staton, my brother, checked on the security footage in rage. The moment he saw that I was the one who took Joy into the freezer, he kicked me inside without hesitation. Before shutting the door, he stared at me in disgust. “You’ve been pushing your luck a lot these days, huh? If I’d been a second too late, Joy would’ve died!” I wanted to defend myself, but William refused to listen and slammed the door shut. I heard him talking to the bodyguards outside. “If she doesn’t apologize, don’t let her out!” But he did not know that Joy had set the freezer to –58 °F. I did not even have the strength to complain about the freezer being cold. William did not know that the sister he once loved dearly had stopped breathing in the freezer. He had killed his only blood relative left in the world.

My mother-in-law and I were vacationing at our pack's resort. We had just arrived at the newly built Obsidian Peak hot springs and decided to hit the private healing pools on the top floor to relax. Out of nowhere, a glammed-up female covered her nose. She gagged like we reeked of rotting Rogues. "This pool is for high-ranking wolves only. How did trash like you sneak in? Ugh, I’ll need a Healer to scrub my skin raw after sharing this water." What a mood killer. I scoffed right back at her. "This is a public healing pool. Any pack member can use it. If you don't like it, leave." Her face twisted in pure disgust. "You dare talk to me like that? Do you know who I am? I’m your Alpha’s favorite. The future Luna of this pack! He’s marking me any day now. Get out, or my mate will tear you to shreds." Rowena and I exchanged a deadpan look. Ice cold. The Alpha of this territory was her biological son. And my fated mate. Since when did my Alpha get a new Luna?

When I was diagnosed with terminal Inner Wolf Decay, a System found me. It told me that if I could win the wholehearted romantic or familial love of just one out of four specific werewolves, I would get a healthy body and live. But for five years, I failed to win over a single one. Because they all fell for the same Omega—the fragile, hypocritical Chloe. Just because she framed me, claiming I ordered rogues to attack her, my targets glared at me with nothing but absolute disgust. My biological brother, Caleb, told me, "I don't have a sister as vicious as you." My pack healer, Julian, didn't believe I suffered from depression. He glared at me with revulsion and said, "Chloe is the one who got hurt. Stop playing the victim." My childhood friend, Victor, stared at me coldly. "You're so toxic. I really wish you'd just die." Later, just as they wished, my mission failed, and my inner wolf was actually going to die. But then, they were the ones crying and begging me not to go.

"That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line. * * * Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone. This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking—where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night. We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else. Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now. But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked—if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess... Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page. We promise you'll be a good girl for us.

Six ultra-wealthy Ivy League graduates taking a lavish, responsibility-free gap year in the Hamptons. They call themselves the Six Wives—a ride-or-die sisterhood. But their world turns into total chaos when they get entangled with six brooding, powerful older men whose dark tastes cross every forbidden line. It all starts in Book 1 when Chloe gets cheated on. Fueled by spite and wine, she sets up a camera in her guest room to record a scandalous video to ruin her ex's ego. The door flies open. But it isn't her ex. It’s one of her bestfriend's powerful, multi-billionaire father, Marcus Vance. And he has no intention of walking away

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”

SODOM DADDIES: Pack of the Oregon Daddies A Collection of Filthy Forbidden MM Sins He called me boy like it was a brand. And I let him burn it into me. Not because I was weak. Because I was worshipping . This is what they don't tell you about forbidden things—they don't feel wrong when you're in the dark with them. They feel like religion . Like the only prayer you've ever known. And the men in these pages? They're not asking for your soul. They're taking it with a smile, a grip on your throat, and a whisper of good boy that ruins you for anyone else. SODOM DADDIES isn't just one hunger. It's a feast of every dark craving you've hidden in your bookmarks, your late-night searches, the parts of yourself you don't name out loud. Your best friend's father who finally stops pretending he hasn't been counting down the days until you're legal. The silver fox next door who teaches you exactly how he likes it—slow, filthy, deep . The alpha who doesn't ask before he claims what's already his. The age gap that should make you run, but instead has you spreading your legs and begging him to stay. Every story is a different sin. Every daddy is a different death. And every single one of them knows exactly what you need before you do. They're not here to love you gently. They're here to ruin you completely. And you're already on your knees, aren't you? 18+ ONLY. Contains explicit MM content, power imbalances, age gap relationships, pseudo-incest themes, and scenes that may leave you ruined for vanilla forever.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

"I'm in love with your body Soph, not you. . ." He doesn't do Love, He only does Fuck. He is a Son of the Devil, preferably, the first son.