Soft Bakugou

" Do i scare you, Micaela." "Your majesty." I whimper, avoiding his gaze. I couldn't muster the courage to meet him in the eyes, not when his intimidating demeanour blocked every sense of reasoning. " mea bella mate ," the way he uttered those strange words, so soft, so delicate, like a sweet caress. Yet I couldn't bring myself to be swayed by his tactics. He wasn't just the king but a man betrothed to another, and I was merely a maid assigned to serve him. "What would Anastasia think if she walks in on our compromising position?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. " I couldn’t give two sh*t what she thinks or feels." His tone was so calm yet frightening. " She means absolutely nothing to me." ♧♧♧ Micaela Whitlock was born and raised inside the Palace, having little experience with life beyond its gates. Despite the benefit of working at the palace, her life was anything but enjoyable. It has been 100 years since the beast overran the human world, eradicating the vast majority of people and enslaving the remainder. Unfortunately, her parents had been among the people who had been taken prisoner. She followed instructions to the letter, doing everything in her power to blend in and go unnoticed until an awful event occurred and irrevocably altered her life.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

''After a few seconds of them staring at one another, Dante finally spoke. But his voice had changed; it was breathless and soft, echoing with a sweetness that Nate could have never imagined existed within him. With the knife left on his palm for Nate to grab, he cooed sheepishly, "Can you...tease me...with this?" Nate Kennedy was devastated when his parents announced their moving overseas. As for him, he was forced to move to a new city, get an apartment near his aunt and enroll in a brand new school. It all started going left when he encountered an assassin named Dante Hercules known not only in their city, but across the entire territory. But Nate didn't know he was an assassin when NAte threatened to kill him after Dante had laid a hand on his aunt. Neither did he know that Dante was into submissive sexual pleasure, relished being dominated violently and carelessly. He had been looking for someone for years and years, until now; he found Nate Kennedy. That is the deal; Nate must keep Dante sexually satisfied. If he fails, he dies, without any remorse. But that was what he thought in the beginning; what happens when emotions start to get involved? When one falls in love with the other? When the dangerous lifestyle of Dante puts Nate's life in jeopardy, which he never thought he would care for?

SYNOPSIS After Maryanne catches her boyfriend and her sister riding each other and talking bad about her in a hotel room, she decides to take her revenge by giving her virginity to a complete stranger. The virginity she was meant to give to him on the night of her 18th birthday, which was that night. [His hands slid down to my side, my waist, then my ass and I felt him grab them close to my thighs, which just somehow caused my pussy side to slide over the other. I released a soft moan to his mouth. He clearly knew how to grab a woman's butt. I wondered what else he could do. “Come on, let's go to my room.” He sang into my ears. He had already booked a room for the night. I wondered if he did so he could lure someone in, just like he was doing, me. It didn't matter however. With his charm, I would gladly be lured. He grabbed my hands softly and I followed him. ] Just like that, she gave her virginity to this unknown man, only to realise the next day that he was Prince Austin, the Lycan Prince and heir to the Royal line throne. More than that, he is appointed the new VC of her school and what she thought would be a one night stand became a full fleshed drama with lots of twists, threats, sorrow and deaths.

My husband was the leader of the rescue team. As I was trapped in a cave and surrounded by a pack of wolves, I desperately called him over and over. Yet, he hung up on me every single time. When the fire nearly burnt out and the wolves got closer, he finally called me and angrily accused me, "Can you stop wasting public resources? I'm the rescue team leader first, and then your husband." In the background, I heard a soft, feminine voice saying, "Howard, my arm has a cut. Can you take me to the hospital?" I was familiar with that voice. It was my husband's first love. Ever since her husband died, she clung to him. And my husband... He didn't just tolerate it; rather, he seemed to enjoy it. A wave of despair washed over me as I ended the call. My hands were trembling, and I tried to call the police, but before I could, the leader of the wolves pounced on me. I fell hard to the ground, and the rest of the pack, sensing the signal, ran toward me at an extraordinary speed. I didn't stand a chance to fight back, and in mere moments, I was ripped into pieces. Before my consciousness slipped away, I struggled to glance down at my lower abdomen one last time, and my lips quivered. "My baby, I'm sorry I failed you…"

When Cole Harrington ran away from our wedding for the seventh time because of his childhood sweetheart, the Harrington family personally came to apologize. "We'll add another five kilos of gold to the bride price. Three buildings in the Southwest. And nine prime-location storefronts in the city center. Consider it the Harrington family's compensation." Before the words had fully settled, a careless laugh from Cole came through the phone. "Grandpa, do you really think she's worth that much? Believe it or not, I could pick up a random rock off the street and still coax her into being completely obedient. "Instead of wasting all those assets on her, why not give them to me so I can invest them in Liv's gallery?" Henry Harrington hurriedly hung up the phone, then looked at me with an awkward expression. Soft snickers rippled through the crowd. Everyone was waiting for me to swallow the humiliation in silence, just as I had before. But this time— I had already received this kind of "compensation" six times. The novelty had long since worn off. The same was true for Cole himself. After a moment of thought, I raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the crowd—at the illegitimate younger brother whom Cole had always despised the most. A smile slowly curved across my lips. "The man that I marry becomes the heir to the Harrington family. That was our deal, right?"

In two steps he was on her, yanking her up straight and turning her around to face the wall. She gasped at the change in dynamic: her teasing and taunting were shoved roughly to one side and now he was in full and total control. Jo trembled as he dropped a slow, sexy kiss on her right shoulder, then lightly nipped her soft skin before moving his mouth to her ear. “Don’t you move, angel,” he murmured. “Keep facing forward.” **** Jolene Angeles is fresh out of a nightmare marriage and parked at a roadside biker bar hunting for one thing: Mr. Right Now. In a few days, she’ll have a new job, a new city, a new life, and a single, forgettable one-night stand feels like the perfect way to burn the past down. Then she meets Zeke. Silver-eyed, dangerous. Exactly the kind of mistake she wants. One night, no names, no aftermath. Zeke “Silver” Bennett doesn’t lose control. Ever. He learned that lesson once, and it nearly destroyed him. So when he spots the dark-eyed woman across the bar, he knows the rules: one night, clean break, no complications. Until fate throws them together again... and secrets start detonating. They didn’t tell each other the truth. Now they’re forced to decide: can trust be built on lies? And if the truth finally comes out – raw, painful, unforgiving – will either of them be brave enough to risk real love?

UNDER HEAVY EDITING. ***** He chuckled at her desperate attempt to make the lie believable. "Pretty little liar, your face betrays a lot, sadly" he placed his hand on her cheeks, his face dark "you can't run from me, Maya; no matter how hard you try to, I'll always find you. Even in the deepest part of hell, And when I find you, you get punished according to how long you were away from me, understand?" His tone was so soft and gentle it could have fooled anybody but not her. She could see through him, and She trembled under his touch. "Y-yes, maestro" **** Though her sister commits the crime, Maya Alfredo is turned in by her parents to be punished by the Ruthless Don Damon Xavier for selling information about the Costa Nostra to the police. Her world is overturned and shattered; she is taken to the Don's Manor, where she is owned by him and treated like his plaything, meanwhile knowing his intentions to destroy her. But then things get dark in the Don's Manor, with the presence of Derinem Xavier. Maya doesn't stand a chance in Damon's furnace. Will he destroy her and everything she loves for the sins he thinks she committed? Or does luck have other plans for her? Note— This is a dark romance. Not all lovey-dovey. ML is a psychopath. Trigger warnings!!! **** TO READ THE EDITED VERSION, PLEASE LOG OUT AND LOG IN AGAIN.

Inside the tattoo studio, Seth Jones let his fingertips trace the dip of Rita Searle's waist and move slowly up her spine. With a soft rustle, her dress slipped to her ankles. He stood over her, taking in the blood-red rose inked across her chest. They had been married for three years, and this was the anniversary gift he'd be giving her—999 roses tattooed into her skin. A broken sob scraped up Rita's throat. "Seth, it hurts… Please, stop…" Her tears splashed onto the back of his hand, but he only pressed the needle deeper, dragging it along until angry red welts marked her body. "Victor wanted those damn roses so he could give them to another woman, and that led to Tara falling off that cliff and ending up in a vegetative state. I'm just giving him what he wanted. You should be grateful." Lying on the cold tattoo table, Rita felt the chill spreading through her. Her eyes stung, weighed down by grief churning behind them. "Isn't it enough? You bought out Searle Group, you hung Victor over a cliff, and left him for the vultures. What else do you want from us?" Seth grabbed her by the throat and forced her chin up. "And isn't Tara innocent in all this? Rita, you and Victor destroyed her life. Don't you owe her for that?"

A betrayed politician’s wife. A rebel alpha with nothing to lose. A town crawling with secrets. And a war waiting to ignite between blood and fang. Calla Hart thought the worst thing her husband could do was cheat. She was wrong. After catching Senator Blake Hart in bed with a vampire and learning he’s part of the Crimson Order, a vampire mafia that wants her blood. Calla runs. Not for love but for survival. Because what’s in her veins isn’t normal. She hides in Ravenridge, a decaying supernatural border town where monsters walk like men and shadows bite back. A place where the veil between worlds is wearing thin. There, she crashes—literally—into Axel Cain, the 20-year-old Alpha of the Vanguard Pack, a feral biker gang that patrols Ravenridge like outlaw wolves. Axel doesn’t do politics. Doesn’t do mates. And definitely doesn’t do soft, wealthy women from the city. But something in Calla’s scent sets his wolf on fire. And when he learns who she’s running from—and what she really is—he makes a choice that will cost him everything: Keep her close. Claim her. And start a war that could burn the veil between their worlds. --- Extra Note for Readers This is a slow-burn paranormal romance with steamy heat, deep emotions, and an age-gap dynamic. She’s older, hunted, and secretly powerful. He’s younger, dominant, and doesn’t play nice. Together, they might save the town… or destroy it.