Re Asura

I've been dating the country's most eligible bachelor for two years. My base salary is $2 million, with bonuses based on performance. Holding hands costs $10,000, putting an arm around his waist is $20,000, and a kiss on the lips is a bit pricier at $50,000. As for certain bedroom activities, well, those come with a whole different price tag. Brad is fair-skinned and handsome, appearing only once a month – he's practically a walking Tiffany's diamond. Life is so sweet, it's easy to get complacent if you're not careful. One night, a DM popped up on Instagram from a stranger. "If you trust me, check your boyfriend's phone." "?" "I'm his girlfriend." "Am I the third party or are you the third party?" "You're third, I'm fourth." "Let's meet and talk details."

"What doesn't kill you fucks you up mentally."---- Anonymous. A tale in which the best day of King Ryder's life becomes his worst when the love of his life is killed on their wedding day. He is determined to find out who assassinated Isabella Sanchez until a certain Elena Greene crashes her way into his life, and causes more harm than intended. Her past comes to bite her in the butt and she's not the only one affected by it. "When you're being blamed for something you didn't do, you run expecting to save yourself. You escape at any cost. You focus. You think like the criminal you're not. You deal with the trauma later, or don't. Survival and happiness comes at a cost... one you pay because you have to."

It was the twentieth year of the zombie apocalypse. Resources were scarce, but I still used half of my savings to buy flowers to propose to my girlfriend. However, she turned around and linked arms with my brother, telling me arrogantly, "You're just a poor loser who stole someone else's superpower. You're not worthy of me. I'm marrying the real owner of the superpower. He's really strong, so get lost, you simp." I was stunned. The "real owner" she was talking about was my own brother. He could only use his spatial power because I shared it with him. Watching them shamelessly mock me in front of other people, I silently unlinked my brother from the superpower sharing system. Let's see how strong he could be now!

They said it was just a phase. A crush. A mistake she’d forget by morning. But obsessions don’t fade. They grow. In Filthy Obsessions, lust doesn’t whisper, it grabs hair, rips buttons, and leaves bruises in its name. These stories are not sweet. They’re soaked in sin. A sex therapist who doesn’t use words to fix broken marriages. A judge who sentences two sisters to submission, then joins them. A father’s best friend who doesn’t just watch,he waits, dark and patient, until she begs for his cock. An art professor who sketches her body in secret... then ruins her innocence on the altar. These men aren’t heroes. They’re cravings in human form. And the women who fall for them? They never recover. If you’ve ever whispered “Daddy, begged for it, screamed through it, or touched yourself thinking, “What if…” Filthy Obsessions was written for you.

Just a few days before my wedding, I accidentally come across a post while scrolling online. The title reads, "To the guy getting married in this city, your fiancée's already cheated on you." Curious, I click in to see the gossip, only to realize I'm the one being talked about. A deep male voice plays in the video. "I heard you're getting married?" The woman in the frame, bare-backed and trembling, chokes back a sob. "After you left, I realized you're still the one I love most. I'm done with him. Take me away, please!" The moment I hear her voice, it feels like someone punches me straight in the chest. Then I notice something on her wrist—the luxury couple's bracelet I gave her just yesterday. And in that instant, I feel like the biggest joke of all. Turns out the fool was me.

"You like this, don't you?" His voice was dark velvet, wrapping around me, sinking under my skin. I swallowed hard, refusing to answer, but my body betrayed me-the sharp inhale, the way my lips parted, the way my thighs pressed together. He noticed. Of course, he did. He stepped closer, eliminating the space between us, his heat overwhelming. "Say it." I shook my head, a weak attempt at resistance. His fingers traced up my arm, slow, teasing, until they reached my throat. He didn't squeeze, didn't apply pressure-just let his touch linger there, making me hyperaware of my own racing pulse. "Liar," he murmured. I exhaled sharply. "You're too close." His lips brushed my ear, not quite a kiss, just a whisper of warmth. "And you're not stopping me."

Ethan chuckled to himself and ran his fingers through my hair. Electricity ran up my spine as I tried not to react to how good it felt. “God, you’re cute.” He said. He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I kissed him back, and we lingered in our embrace for a moment before pulling away. I could see something was shifting, was he holding me? What were these feelings brewing inside of me? I told myself not to take them too seriously. “You’re pretending.” I whispered to myself. “None of this is real.” - The offer was simple: one million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend, then his fiance, in a space of six months. Everything she wanted was going to be at the tip of her fingers, including, maybe, making her best friend Jake a tiny bit jealous. What could go wrong? Everything, absolutely everything. And they both wanted it.

After eight years of marriage, my husband ignored my protests and brought his so-called cancer-stricken first love into our home. “You heartless woman! You don’t have an ounce of compassion! You’re not even worth a single strand of Luna’s hair!” Even my son chimed in, shouting that if I didn’t let Luna Miller in, he wouldn’t acknowledge me as his mother. That was it. I was done. I divorced him and accepted an invitation to return to the design world—back to the top where I belonged. But then they saw the forged cancer diagnosis. And suddenly, the tears came. “Baby, I was tricked! It was always you—I’ve only ever loved you!” “Mom, don’t leave me! I’m your only child!” I didn’t even look at them. Who let these crazy dogs in? They’re in my way—I’ve got an award to accept.

When I turned 18, my mother married my stepfather, a retired mafia kingpin, and I moved with her into a luxurious mansion. Just when I thought my life was heading toward happiness, my stepbrother, the new mafia boss, stormed into my life. He was like a devil, with delicate eyebrows, a high, sharp nose, and lips that were always tightly pressed together beneath a cold expression. Every time our eyes met, I felt a chill run through me, making it hard to breathe. I tried my best to avoid him, but he had no intention of letting me go. “My stepsister, from the moment I first saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. You can’t escape—you’re destined to be mine.” I stared into his possessive eyes as his body pressed down on mine. “No, you're my stepbrother, we can't……"

"I'm your wife, not your prisoner," Avery pleads with Liam, her voice shaking. Liam sneers, "You're whatever I say you are, Avery. And right now, you're nothing without me." — When love turns toxic, survival is the only option. Avery Livingston's luxurious life imploded when her family's fortune vanished. Desperate to save her ailing mother, she made a devastating deal with billionaire movie star Liam Leon Galloway. Trapped in a gilded cage, she endured three years of humiliation and despair. But when Liam's Oscar win left her behind, Avery's fury ignited. Pregnant and defiant, she vowed to escape and exact revenge. With her fate hanging by a thread, she must choose: submit to Liam's toxic grasp or rise from the ashes. Will she break free or remain trapped in this twisted game of power and obsession?