Soulsborne-like Reads

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

DIANA SANTORO: Five years locked inside a convent. Not because I was holy. Because the family I was born into is dangerous. My name is Diana Santoro. Mafia blood. And in this world, daughters like me get hidden away until the war is over. Now my brother’s the Don. And he wants me back. The man he sent to collect me? Rocco Moretti. The most feared monster in Italy. The devil of Cosa Nostra. They say he pulls confessions out of men with his bare hands—then sleeps like a baby afterward. Three days on the road. Just us. He’s expecting some scared little nun-in-training, ready to be escorted quietly back to my gilded cage. He has no idea that the only innocent thing about me is this face. **** ROCCO MORETTI: Forty-seven men. That's how many I've killed. Tortured more than double that. Never lost a minute of sleep over any of them. So why does this girl—with her innocent eyes and that smart mouth—make me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind around every bend of this road? Last night, at some roadside motel, she walked into my room. Ran her fingers over my tattoos, looked up at me with this smirk, and told me she wasn't wearing underwear. What the hell does she want? To destroy me? To see how far she can push before I snap? She's a virgin. Untouched. Off-limits. The one thing a man like me can never have. But when she looks at me like that—wearing that short dress, lips parted just enough—I forget who I am. I forget I'm the monster. And I start wanting, with everything in me, to be the one who ruins her. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me everything.

When my mother first told me about the arranged marriage, Noah Parker lowered his head and kissed me, pulling me closer as we became tangled together. After a haze of passion, he carried me into the bathroom. Warm water streamed over my skin, but his words sent a chill straight through me, as if I'd fallen into an icy pit. "Go home. And don't come looking for me here again." I thought he'd seen the text and was jealous, so I quickly clung to him and swore, "I won't marry anyone else—" His smile stayed, but the heat in his eyes cooled into something distant. "But I'm getting married." He brushed back my messy hair, ignoring how my body trembled under his touch. "My fiancée is gentle and kind—nothing like you. She’d never throw herself at her foster brother like that. We've already set a date. If you keep clinging to me like this, she'll be upset with me."

It was all about a year. Just one simple year. They got married because of his Grandmother's wish. He didn't fall for her in that one year but she did. She didn't expect he would still hold on that contract after being married for a whole year but he did. He terminated the contract after a year and told her that it was over without any regret. He had gifted her divorce papers on their first wedding anniversary. He had expected her to throw a tantrum but too bad cause she didn't. Instead she just packed her bags and left just like he had asked her to. Then all of sudden one year later they met again. But she didn't change like those cliche heroines after divorce. She was the same as she was a year ago. Stupid, clumsy and stubborn. He didn't realise what he lost like those cliche ex husbands when he saw her for the first time after a year. But why did it sting watching her talking to some other men so casually? Why did it sting when she didn't look at him with those puppy lovesick eyes anymore? Why did it sting so much when she treated him like other ordinary people? It shouldn't have right? SLOW UPDATE AND UPDATE 3 DAYS PER WEEK. PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THIS AND DON'T COMPLAIN LATER:)

I used to think he took my breath away. I lied—I was choking on his bullshit. “I never loved you, Valentina,” he said evenly. “And if you weren’t so dense, you’d have realized that three years ago.” His words cut through me like a razor blade. Not only had I been used—I had been discarded, tossed aside like a rag doll. Three months later, I’m the hotcake nobody can resist—desired not by one billionaire, but two, both ready to set the world on fire for me.

My father died, leaving me a shattered empire and a death sentence. To save my family, I offered myself to the one man powerful enough to protect us. Luca Marino. The Mafia king everyone fears. Our marriage is a contract, not a love story. Power for him. Protection for me. But Luca doesn’t play fair. He kisses like a threat and touches like a promise. And every time I think I’ve figured him out, he ruins me all over again. I'm playing a dangerous game. And I’m falling for the most dangerous man alive.

My husband planned to sell my body to a stranger so that he could have a perfect reason to divorce me. When I heard his phone conversation, I didn’t wait for him to catch me, I hit the loudest club in town at once. Then something I didn’t expect happened. I slept with his forbidden best friend, a man who hated my guts like crazy yet he claimed me like I was his soulmate. His jaws tightened as he whispered “He didn’t deserve you. You were supposed to be mine.”

I stood in the shadows, the scent of pine and frost heavy in the air, watching my mate, Ethan, smile—truly smile—for the first time in years. But not at me. At her. My cousin, Isla. His first love. She sat beside him, warm and glowing, with our pups, Lucas and Mia, curled up against her like she was their real mother. They were laughing, sharing bites of ice-cream cake, the kind Lucas once said made his stomach hurt. I was never meant to be here. I wasn't his choice. He didn't fall in love with me—he was assigned to me. To him, our bond was never about love. It was a political arrangement—an alliance between two packs: his power, my father’s ambition. A tie forged not by hearts, but by bloodlines and borders. He never touched me unless required. He never looked at me like I was his Luna. In that moment, as their laughter echoed under the full moon, I felt the mate bond falter—thin, fading, like breath in winter. And I knew. I had played my part long enough. So I turned away. It was time to severe the bond that was never truly mine. But when he sensed I was really leaving, when the tether between us began to snap, he broke. Dropped to his knees, clutching the pups like lifelines, his voice raw. "Please," he whispered, "don't leave me." Even the pups cried, reaching for me with shaking hands. "Mom, we’re sorry… We didn't mean it. Please don't go."

For almost four years without her twin brother, Addison Miranda cannot swallow the pain of her brother's death that still haunts her every night. That's why she pours her every emotion on writing which her brother influenced her when they were still young. And as she grows older, she wants to pursue the dream that settles her from the grief of her lost. The only thing that her mind automatically focuses on is becoming a published writer, willing to do whatever sorcery she needs to perform. But just like any other human being, she stumble upon the biggest regret of her life. Meeting Corpse De Chavez is the start of how she wanted to dig her own grave. It is like in a blink of an eye, Addi become blind of how her success will fall on her hands like streaming waters. She found out that Corpse is a big part of her past that has been torturing her for years. And how unfortunate for her to fall for someone that she’s supposed to despise. Desperate to live a peaceful life, she decided to quit everything so she can save herself from falling apart, even though it breaks her heart leaving the person that loves her more than anyone else. Addison Miranda believes that whatever witchcraft that she's been under, she wanted to get out of it as soon as possible before she falls with it. Because just like spilled coffee on the table, Corpse caused a big mess that no one has ever done to her life. 

{TW: DARK ROMANCE, ABUSE, DADDY KINK, PSYCHOTIC, VIOLENCE. This is not your typical dark romance novel, it gets darker with each chapters so if you can't handle it, kindly exit, not all Male leads are heroes some can be your worst nightmare, if you are looking for love you won't find it here} *********************************** "Won't you like to open your gift, Bambi?" It wasn't a question. César Navarro never asked. He commanded. When Anya Esmeralda Torres untied the silk ribbon and lifted the lid of the velvet box, her world shattered. Inside, staring back at her with dead, lifeless pupils, were the green eyes of Giovanni De Luca.....the man whose gaze had made her uncomfortable all evening. Her scream ripped through the silence. "Now his eyes will never trouble you again." He said it like he'd given her a necklace. Like dismemberment was romance. Like murder was love. César Navarro, known in the underworld as Calavera, wasn't just the founder of a billion-dollar tech empire. He was the Skull—mafia heir, executioner, and obsession wrapped in a tailored suit. And Anya? She was his cage bird. His possession. His favorite game. But Anya wasn't born to be caged. She was fire—wild, defiant, desperate for freedom. And no matter how many diamonds he draped her in, she vowed to escape. The question is: can you ever run from a monster who always finds you? Or will love become the cruelest prison of all?