Pah-chin Tokyo Revengers Novels & Stories

This is a sexy and dark retelling of Beauty and the Beast where the beauty is a shy and sweet twenty-one year old girl and the beast is a twisted, psychotic, arrogant and cunning vampire. ****"C-can you p-please be gentle?" She meekly stuttered out between tears and hiccups. Her gaze still attached to the ceiling. Seconds passed. She could feel her cheeks heat up even after uttering that small request. What it implied. She'd never had sex before. She hadn't even seen a naked male before, in her entire life. She didn't know what to expect. But she definitely knew that it was going to hurt. The girls from her high-school had warned her of that. That it was going to hurt really bad at first. And that it wasn't actually that pleasant either. She startled at the sudden sound of his masculine chuckle. Her head instinctually turned to look at him before she could even try and stop herself. She watched him turn to lie on his side, his elbow digging into the soft pillow as he held his head in his hand. A sly smirk displaying on his beautifully-carved features. "And why would I do that?" He rose one brow. She immediately felt her cheeks burn even hotter. "B-because I asked you nicely," she bit her lip. Her hands were still tightly holding onto that duvet, keeping it at chin level. His gaze momentarily dropped to her mouth, taking notice of that small action. "A-and because I'm scared. I haven't done this before. Any of this," she truthfully admitted after a moment, her gaze lowering as she couldn't help but feel so embarrassed. About all of it. What she'd just told him, their current position. All of it. "You mean the sucking or the fucking part?"***

When she took his hand and pressed it between her thighs, he froze. Again, he looked at her, checking to make sure she was OK. Her hand was on top of his, her legs spread, her hips making small circles against his palm. “Baby? Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Jenny.” He took her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Completely sure?” “Yes.” She kissed him, her mouth hot and hungry. “Yes.” Chris pressed gently on her pussy, felt her incredible heat. With one finger, he found her through the material and she arched under him. Holy fuck, she’s so wet. So turned on. Oh, God, help me. **** Six years ago, Jennifer Sawyer survived something that nearly destroyed her. Now she’s rebuilt her life: successful restaurant, loyal friends, laughter reclaimed. There’s only one rule she refuses to break: no men. Not ever. Except Chris. He’s the only man she trusts… and even he’s never touched her. But when Jenny decides she’s ready to confront intimacy as part of her healing, there’s only one person she can ask. One name. One risk. Chris Brooker is a former Ranger turned mechanic, and he’s been quietly in love with Jenny since first sight. He knows her past is dark, even if he doesn’t know the details. When she asks for his help, desire collides with terror... of hurting her, of wanting too much, of losing her entirely. Step by fragile step, Jenny and Chris fight for every inch of trust and closeness. But healing changes everything. And the biggest question remains: is Jenny ready not just for touch, but for love?

"I'm not the hero in your fairytale , songbird. You'd do best to remember that." I've been ripped from my life and given to a criminal the whole city fears by my father and only man I trusted in the world as a debt repayment with blames of crimes I never committed! He has 2 rules for me. 1) Obey him. 2) Tell no one ANYTHING about him. And then I ran into a aviary of freedom thinking I will be free ,only you can't be free once you enter a Mafia's life. I ran into his enemy and lived a horror worst than death . For a long time that felt like an eternity Until he returns. Until Zander king returns like an inevitable storm and tips my chin up and again life takes another turn. My downfall has a name , Zander ! -------------------------------------- I should have known she would ruin me the moment I saw her. Women like her are made to destroy men like me. I couldn’t let her go though. Given to me in a war ,to begin a war ; I was too eager to accept. But I didn’t know what she’d do to me. I didn't know she would change everything. She sees through me in a way no one else ever has. Her innocence and vulnerability make me weak for her and I despise it. I know better than to give in to temptation of femininity. A ruthless man doesn’t let a soul like her, close to him. A cold-hearted man doesn't let a little bird twist his decisions. A powerful man with a beautiful woman at his mercy… he doesn’t fall for her. But ! My downfall has a name ,Jasmine !

*Warning* Explicit Content Included. Adults only. They killed my parents. Turned my underaged sister as se* slave. Sold me to a brothel. It’s been 901 days until the soon to be alpha made the highest bid on my auction night. ** “You,”He leered and smirked at us. “Both of you. Get up.” I shook my head, shuddering, “Please… Please don’t–” He grabbed me by my arm and dragged me up to my feet. He grabbed Angelia with his other hand and proceeded to drag us towards the door. Angelia had gone all but silent as she was pulled along like a ragdoll. Her eyes seemed glazed over. My heart raced. “P-Please. I can give you gems! Jewelry! What about lunar flowers? We have them all. If you’d just take us back–” “How are you going to bargain with something that’s not yours anymore?” He scoffed, “Move it. The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Tears streamed down my face. We were brought out of the dungeon into another section. There were no windows and the scent of sweat and tears filled the air. The man who brought us there shoved us inside and closed the door behind us as a fat, whale of a man turned towards us. I could tell by his stature and his scent that he was either human or his wolf was weak. He chuckled and licked his lips as he approached. He stopped at me first, grabbing my chin and leaning close to take a deep breath of my scent. He chuckled as I recoiled and shuddered in disgust. Then, he stopped at Angelia, tracing a hand over her cheek. “I love the obedient ones. Welcome girls, to my dungeon. You will call me, Dan.”

“Who would have thought goody two shoes Tatiana Olivera is a nasty sl*t who fantasies about f*ck*ng her step brother?” Hasan continues his teasing. He inserts in middle finger in my mouth and I greedily s*ck on it, picturing it to be his c*ck. Hasan’s mouth parts open, his brows cresting as he watches me s*ck his middle finger like a kid sucking on a candy cane. I frowned when he pulled out his middle finger. He grabs my chin with a fierceness that sent me on edge. “Open your mouth.” He orders and I obey. He takes in a deep breath as though calming himself and before I knew it, hot liquid drops into my mouth. Did.. did he just spit in my mouth? It tastes divine. It tastes like him. And I want more. “Swallow.” I meet his gaze as I gulp down his saliva. A proud smile appears on his face. “There’s my good little sl*t.” ***** I hate Hasan Olivera. I can’t stand him. The way he walks into the room like he owns the place, the smug smirk that says he already knows what I am thinking. He’s insufferably cocky, sharp-tongued, insanely hot and fully aware of it. And those eyes? Dark, knowing, endlessly amused by the fact that, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I’m completely drawn to him. I want him to f*ck me. I want him to claim me. I want him to be mine because I belong to him. But he's my step brother. And I hate my step brother. -------

Zephyr stood with her head bent low and her hands clasped in front of her. His dark aura made cold sweat roll down her spine, and she felt herself trembling. She felt his ethereal dark gray eyes fall upon her, intensifying the urge to scurry away as he closed the distance between them. She tried to move backward, but her back pressed further into the wall, reminding her she had no place to run to. His larger frame towered over her as he placed one hand beside her head. Zephyr had seen many men, and she could confidently say none held a candle to Alpha Damon Alaric. Damon was handsome in every way, and if she didn't know better, she might have mistaken him for the devil. Zephyr shivered when his fingers grasped her chin and tilted it up to meet his dark gaze. "Zephyr…" Alpha Damon trailed off, a sinister smirk playing on his lips. Her heart raced as his thumb gently caressed her lips. "Didn't I tell you you're mine? How dare you let another man touch you?" His voice remained calm, but his eyes spoke volumes. Zephyr's heart skipped a beat when his hands moved to her bottom, gently caressing the soft flesh and stirring sinful desires within her. "Or do you want me to take you to my bed and remind you to whom you belong?" Zephyr Cyrus was the lowest of all kinds; even the Omegas easily trampled her because she was a slave. She had accepted her fate, knowing that denying it would only lead to death. However, everything began to change when the Alpha's shrewd eyes fell on her.

Roseline's stomach turned and her fist clenched tightly around the handle of the big travel box beside her. She heard the clanging sound of the metallic head of Thompson's belt meeting the ground. Next, quite footsteps. Then, Thompson appeared in her view, like a ghost she didn't believe existed. He was completely bare, with his hairy chest rising and falling slowly, his cock shooting out in front like a gun ready to be fired, his balls bloated from desire, swinging from side to side as he walked closer to bed. Roseline's feet stuck to the ground and her eyes refused to blink as they looked on. "That's it, my boy. Hmm! I like what I see", the red hair gasped, rolling her eyes longingly at Thompson. As Thompson climbed unto the bed, his eyes totally locked in hers, she drew her breasts closer him, then, proceeded to rock the big pumpkins against the flushed skin of his face. "You like them?", she asked, moaning lightly. Thompson paused. Then, in a defiant move of uncontrollable desire, dug his chin into her breasts, burying his entire face in them. "Ouch", she gasped, then broke into a weak laugh, pushing his head more into her chest. "The damn bra", she spoke again, twisting uncomfortably as she threw her hands behind her to unhook the material. But Thompson caught her hands. Without words, his head still hidden in her cleavage, he slowly returned her hands to his head. Obliging to his silent command, she cackled loudly, pressing her chest even more into his face and then, with her tongue, glided across his neck and ears hungrily. Roseline froze. She wanted to scream but in that moment, she forgot how to.

“I now pronounce you as a husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!” The priest announced and I froze. I knew I was cursed the moment this blood oath was taken which bound me to hell, the hell of this Sinner. My eyelids raised to see the ugly creation of god. My husband! Vladimir Sokolov! His rugged face carved with uncountable ugly marks stung my slow beating heart. His hazel green eyes held a satisfied dark shadow as He pulled me close, raised my chin and whispered coldly, “From this very moment, you share the crown of Bratva’s pakhan. Prepare yourself to bear its weight, Babochka. Because I own your existence now!” He slammed his cold lips on my trembling ones, punishing me with a brutal kiss. Tears pricked my eyes with disgust but I tolerated his touch for the sake of my family. My eyes followed the part of the audience, Russians, who burst into cheers while the other party, Italians, looked at me with remorse and pitiful gazes. Oh yes, how could I forget I was the sacrificed lamb thrusted into hell to get scorched for a lifetime. But No. I still had the last hope to save myself from this cursed fate, this cursed marriage. ………….. Born in a sin will definitely be called the Sinner. Without morality and mercy, Vladimir Sokolov the Bratva’s Pakhan ruled the city with an iron fist. Due to the influence of some political parties He had to marry the Daughter from La Camorra. Rose Barbieri! Marry her, have his heir and wear the title of family man, that's what He planned to do but what He didn’t imagine was that his innocent, submissive wife was someone who would burn the flames of his hell into ashes one day.

CONTENT WARNINGS: BDSM, reckless MMC's, Stockohlm syndrome, and Trauma bonding. [From Chap 133+ Isnt for the faint of heart] Be warned now 💋🤭🌈🔞 —----------------- “I’ve been jerking to your photo every night for five years,” Tristan's calloused hand guides me along his crotch. “Aren't you happy to see me, Bunny?” “You murdered my father. Broke out of jail. Shot my fiancé at our wedding altar.” My voice flares. “Happy to see you?” “Because you’re the love of my goddamn miserable life,” he seizes my chin, forcing me to meet those frosty, possessive eyes. “The moment you said ‘I do,’ you became mine. You bear my hickeys, my ring, and my name. And it’s our wedding night, Husband.” Who chains their husband naked and dangles him from the top of a skyscraper on their wedding night?! Death isn’t romantic. I’m not a masochist. So why the fuck is my cock hard? Tristan grins, “Still lying to yourself?” I bite down on his lips. He doesn’t flinch even as blood trickles out. “Say that again and lose your tongue.” His grin widens with bloodied teeth. “Right, you're not into men… just me.” —------------- Tristan ‘Mad-Bishop’ Alister got busted by the Feds and locked away for five years. Now, he’s back to claim his obsession: Carlton Dickson. Tristan isn’t just Carlton’s captor. He’s Carlton’s former step-father, and their connection is more taboo than their forbidden affair. As Tristan serves justice to those who destroyed him, using ways that would make the devil shiver, Carlton is trapped between hatred and a dark desire he can’t escape. Can Carlton survive the truth of their relationship to each other? Or will they burn in the flames Tristan’s lit to consume everyone in his path?

Lena Marchetti, twenty-eight, operates on fumes. Her father Marco's cancer treatments have swallowed her savings and the final credits of her degree. She interns at Croft Industries, a glass tower engineered to diminish. She is invisible, sweat gluing her blouse to her spine, until she drops Julian Croft's Montblanc pen. The crack on marble halts breath. She scrabbles on cold stone. When she lifts her chin, Julian crouches beside her. He doesn't retrieve the pen. He waits. His gray eyes hold hers, and heat floods her neck, damp and unwelcome. "You break it, you buy it," he says. "And you can't afford it." He leaves her kneeling. At 3:17 AM, her phone blares: Croft. Office. One hour. She goes. His office smells of leather and ozone. He slides a contract across the desk. Six months. Exclusivity. Her compliance. In exchange, her father's debt dissolves. Her signature slants, barely legible. After her best friend Dani labels Julian a sociopath, Lena sobs in the service elevator. He finds her. "Come with me." He escorts her to a 24-hour diner. He orders cherry pie, slides it across formica. She is wrecked—blotched skin, swollen lids. He studies her as if memorizing the topography of her distress. He teaches her to fence. She lunges, jabs his ribs. He laughs in that rusted, startled way that travels up her calves. She registers: I manufactured that sound. Elara Vance, Julian's former mentor who sold his first deal for a board seat, resurfaces. She invites Lena to lunch, offers employment. "He'll never perceive you as an equal. Work for me. Become a threat." The words burrow. Lena's palms dampen at his touch. While Julian travels, she picks the lock of a hidden room. A library.