Persephone Lore Olympus Black Dress

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

I had returned from overseas to attend my foster son's wedding, already wearing my dress for the evening. My former high school classmates recognized me and pointed at me, laughing wildly. They tore my dress off me without hesitation. Ruby Saunders apologized to me, but it was all an act. She looked at me with malevolence. She had instigated her lackeys to strip me in public. When I tried to retaliate, she slapped me so hard that I fell to the ground. I closed my eyes and laughed coldly as I saw the cruel excitement on her face. She used to imitate me and accuse me of copying her, but I always endured it. However, today was my last straw. I would not allow her to marry into my family and turn me into her mother-in-law, no matter what!

My family home accidentally catches on fire, and my father risks his life to save my sister. He ends up with severe burns and urgently needs a blood transfusion to save his life. I'm not in the vicinity, so I ask my fiancé to help. He tells me the hospital doesn't have enough blood stored and mobilizes the city's blood banks—he does it to save my sister, who only has minor burns. Leonard Gallagher shows up when I'm at my most desperate. He takes 600ml of my blood and rushes back to my hometown. Meanwhile, I pass out by the roadside due to severe blood loss. When I wake up, Leonard tells me my father has died due to significant blood loss. I'm disfigured after knocking my head on a sharp rock. He holds my bandaged face tenderly and tells me he'll use his life to make it up to me. After three years of marriage, I'm six months pregnant when I lose consciousness and need to be rescued. That's when I overhear Leonard's conversation with a doctor. "It's been three years. Can we do the skin grafting procedure again? Zoe needs it for her cosmetic surgery." "Mrs. Gallagher has recovered very well, so it's okay to proceed with the procedure. However, even if she's Ms. Lore's sister, there's still a chance of rejection." "Her blood already flows in Zoe's veins—what does the skin matter? It's already the second time, anyway." It turns out the help I've given on the brink of death only leads to Zoe Lore's enhanced beauty. To Leonard, I'm nothing but a source of flesh and blood for Zoe. I'm tired. I think it's time to be reunited with my father.

"She will come back," she promised. "She just needs time to sort her head out." "Not her heart?" The dry distinction made Charley wince. "I'm sure she loves you," she persisted. "She's just not ready to commit to marriage." If you just give her time, then I— Black eyebrows with a fascinating silken gloss gave her a curious look. "Are you actually standing there, Miss Jones, suggesting that I should wait for Adelina to sort her head out?" Well, was she? Lifting her chin, "If you love her—yes," she insisted. "Then you are a romantic fool because it is not going to happen." He moved suddenly, straightening away from the desk. "There is a wedding arranged for next Saturday morning, and I intend to make sure that it goes ahead." Without a bride? Charley stared at him. "You mean—you're going to find her and drag her back to marry you?" A silly kind of laugh left her throat at the very image of Adelina being dragged by this man down the church aisle, kicking and screaming. ‘No.’ Reaching behind him, his long fingers picked Adelina's letter up again—this time to fold it with slow, neat precision. "I mean to replace her with someone else."I want reparation for being taken for an idiot, and if that means putting you in Adelina's wedding dress and marrying you in her place, then that is what is going to happen."

The scoundrel cheated on his sister, and she caught him in the marital bed. In a fit of rage, she put on her wedding dress and climbed into the bed of the scoundrel's younger uncle, and thus transformed herself into his little aunt.

I am a Catalyst. The Spark, the lore calls me. The problem with being a Spark was two-fold. Monsters were drawn to me. And I'd known so many of them that I found myself unable to be intrigued by any normal, human male. I was drawn to those dangerous breeds now, like a moth to flame, how much could I really resist their primal aggression? You'd think that with my time as a Spark, I'd have learned how to recognize each creature. But there were so many, I didn't know where to begin. Every male creature lusted for me, especially the monsters. And I for them. The trick I faced was in trying not to attract every unholy thing I came across. And when I did, in identifying which just wanted to possess me and which might actually kill me. I was clearly failing. On both accounts.

He paused and kissed her neck, turning the pale skin to red before retracting his move to fix his eyes on her, and leisurely replied. "Unfortunately, you cant wear the dress over there." He chuckled and passed a box over to her hand. "And the fortunate news is I prepared a dress for you." Ariana was a cursed little girl who could see ghosts. Her family hated her and threw her from one adoptive family to another. However, misfortune didn't act alone. When she was brought up by her aunt, she was sold as a slave. When she had thought she would become nothing but a sacrifice to the sorcerer, she was saved by a man whose identity was far different than a normal mythical being, but never knew that the man who saved her will indeed be her worst nightmare.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband, Jaxon Wilde, walks through the door with his hundredth new mistress. From my neck, he snaps the necklace that was once our token of love and fastens it around hers. Amid the guests' jeers and mocking laughter, the lady tugs timidly at my gown and murmurs, "Mr. Wilde wants me to wear this dress tonight, Scarlett." It was a dress altered from my wedding gown ten years ago, and I wore it tonight like a fool, hoping he might remember. But now, he wants to strip his wife bare in public and give it to his mistress on the wedding anniversary. Under the weight of everyone's sneers, I look up at him and give him a genuine smile for the first time in a decade. "Let's get divorced, Jaxon."

The story follows a cursed female werewolf– Lyra Noctis, born under an ancient and forbidden lunar phenomenon—one so rare that her birth requires the death of her mother. According to werewolf lore, females of her kind are not meant to form bonds, families, or unions. Any male werewolf who mates with her dies during the act, his life force consumed by the curse that sustains her existence. Despised by her father and feared by her pack, she grows up in forced isolation—no affection, no friendships, no future. Branded a living omen, she becomes a symbol of loss rather than life. Unable to bear the weight of her existence, she abandons her hometown, severing all ties to the past, and relocates to a distant city where she lives as a ghost among humans—quiet, detached, and deliberately unremarkable. There, she met an Alpha who has never shifted before and fate intervenes.

⚠️ Warning: Abuse, descriptive sexual acts, please refrain from reading this if you're below 18, forbidden love, BDSM, sex control, manipulation. "Take off your dress,” he ordered, his voice quiet but commanding. One guard hesitated and tried to speak, “But, sir—” Damian’s cold stare silenced him immediately. “I said take it off,” he repeated, this time with no room for argument. The guards exchanged nervous looks and then left the room, closing the door with a chilling finality. Aurora was now alone with this man, the one who had bought her like an object. Her dress felt heavy, her heels like chains. Taking a shaky step toward him, her breathing echoed in the silence. “Please,” Aurora whispered, dropping to her knees. “I’m only eighteen. Don’t do this.” Her voice was small, trembling, but she knew he held all the power.