The Troublesome Thing About Time Dramione Mga Nobela at Kwento

I once thought I would spend my entire life in love with my husband, Vincenzo, the Don of the De Luca family. In the end, our whirlwind romance was no match for a childhood promise. On the day Vincenzo went through with a sham marriage to his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, to honor a blood oath, I destroyed the penthouse we had filled with memories and left his city for good. When Vincenzo used the family's entire intelligence network and still couldn't find me, the untouchable Don was driven mad. Later, he offered a worldwide bounty for any information on my whereabouts and even publicly begged me to come back. Too bad for him, I already wore another man's ring. Vincenzo, nothing waits for you forever. Especially a love you strangled with your own hands.

On the night of the full moon, the Northern Wolf Pack held its annual honors ceremony. Alpha Rhys Ashbourne coldly handed out rewards to the elite wolf guards. My coworkers received bonuses. Spirit medicine. Weapons. When it was my turn, he suddenly stopped. “You don’t have enough seniority.” Low laughter spread through the hall. A black gift box was tossed into my arms. “So I prepared something else for you.” I opened the box. Inside lay a wolf fang collar. The floating comments exploded across my vision. 【Holy shit! The Alpha gave away his resonance collar?!】 【That’s basically like putting his manhood around her neck!】 【She doesn’t even know she’s a potential Mate yet!】 【If she touches it once, the Alpha over there is gonna lose his mind...】 I froze for a second. Then instinctively touched the wolf fang. The next second. The Alpha on the high platform stopped breathing. His hand clenched hard around the armrest of the throne. Meanwhile, I was only staring down at the collar in confusion. ...That sensitive? After hesitating for a moment, I obediently fastened the collar around my neck. High above the hall, the man closed his eyes. His throat bobbed slowly.

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall. My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof. The blizzard knocked out the power. But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party. In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker. But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said. She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde. Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones. He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child. The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest. He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning. Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies. I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones. "If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!" I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.

While enrolling my son in an elite school, the administrator suddenly tells me my marriage certificate is forged. "According to our records, your marital status is listed as single." "But I've been married to my husband, Chandler Leighton, for seven years!" Behind me, other parents waiting in line burst out laughing mockingly. "Did she just say Chandler Leighton? She must be dreaming." Amid their ridicule, I leave and head straight to the city hall for a confirmation. And as a wife of seven years, my marital status in the system is stated as "Single". A cold dread washes over me as I press. "Who is Chandler Leighton's legal wife?" The clerk flatly spats out a name, "Heather Hammington." It was that name again! I rush home, ready to confront Chandler, but pause just outside the door when I hear voices inside. "It's been seven years, Mr. Leighton. Do you still have no plans to grant Mrs. Leighton a legal status?" After a lengthy pause, Chandler finally answers, "Just wait a little longer. Heather lost both her parents… I'm the only one who can help her, so she needs this title." "What if Mrs. Leighton finds out?" "Danielle loves me too much to leave, even if she finds out. Once Heather has established her foothold in the business industry, I'll make it official with Danielle and give her a true marriage certificate." He sounds so certain, unaware that I'm standing just outside the door with tears streaming down my face. "You'll be disappointed, you liar." I take out my phone and dial a number I haven't called in years. "Mom, I accept the Atwoods' marriage arrangement."

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Contains explicit sexual content, consensual power dynamics, manipulation, dominance/submission themes, obsession, emotional degradation, and morally gray characters. 18+ only. Reader discretion is advised. My Reluctant Plaything is a raw, intoxicating collection of gay erotica where lust blurs the lines between love and control. Every story is a clash of dominance and resistance of men who crave power and those who refuse to kneel... until they do. From ruthless mafia heirs and calculating professors to damaged billionaires and possessive strangers, these stories dive deep into forbidden desires, reluctant submission, and the thrilling high of surrendering to the one man you shouldn't want. It’s not about romance. It’s about obsession. They said no. But their bodies said everything else.

When D.C. lawyer Hannah McCrae heads home for her brother’s wedding, she’s dragging a lot of baggage along with her—and she doesn’t mean suitcases. Betrayed personally, and humiliated professionally, the last thing she wants is a new man. That’s fine with square-jawed, rugged contractor Calder Blue. He and Hannah may be wildly attracted to one another, but all he wants is to build the town’s hotly contested new yacht club and mend a centuries-old family feud. Yet thanks to resentments old and new, day after day the pair wind up tangled in each other’s business—and maybe soon in each other’s arms. Every bride needs something “blue”… Includes a delicious wedding cake recipe!

On the day of the Sacred Forest Rite, my Alpha father and Luna mother were mysteriously murdered. Soon after, my fiancé Jem abruptly broke off our engagement and held a bonding ceremony with his childhood friend, Sarah. While I was still drowning in grief, Jem's elder brother, Nom, came to me with a proposal. He swore he would uncover the truth and bring my parents' murderer to justice. So I married him—and brought what was left of my pack into his. Seven years passed. No killer was found. No justice delivered. Then today, I overheard a conversation between Nom and his Beta outside the study. I learned the truth. Someone had seen Sarah at the scene of my parents' deaths during the Sacred Forest Rite. However, Nom silenced that witness. He shut down the investigation, convinced Sarah was innocent—that her presence was nothing more than a coincidence. However, my mother died with Sarah's earring clenched in her hand. It was never justice. It was a cover-up. Seven years of marriage, built on a lie—his way of protecting the one truly responsible. This time, I will take vengeance into my own hands. Alone.

After losing a bet to her adopted younger brother, Peter Conroy, my wife, Ruth Davis, divorced me for the ninth time. I had told her then that if we remarried for a tenth time and divorced again, I would marry someone else. She only laughed and said, “Will, you even donated part of your liver to me. How could you possibly marry anyone else? Besides, apart from me, who would want to marry a broke loser like you?” On the day of our tenth remarriage press conference, Peter left her a key to a beach house and made a bet with her. If she could find him in three hours, he would stay and wish us a lifetime of happiness. The moment Ruth saw the key, her expression turned hesitant. She tore up the remarriage statement and ran off without hesitation. Three hours later, Peter posted a photo on social media. They were lying on a bed in the beach house and admiring the ocean view. I read the caption. [If someone really cares about you, they will cross mountains and seas just to find you.] Without telling Ruth, I withdrew the remarriage application and made a call I had not made in a very long time. “Julienne, is your proposal from back then still valid?” Her voice trembled with barely restrained excitement. “For you, it’ll always be valid.”

On the day the SAT results are revealed, the fake heiress, Layla Sanders, colluded with our homeroom teacher, Richard Hoffman, to report me for cheating during the exam. When I stared at both copies of the exam papers that showed the same steps and formulas, I couldn't defend myself at all. In order to preserve Layla's pride, my own parents actually forced me to admit to stealing the exam questions in advance. Then, they had me forcibly admitted into a mental asylum. The Sanders family claimed that I had gone crazy just so they could keep this particular skeleton sealed in the closet. They abandoned me, letting me be tormented endlessly in the asylum. When I finally escaped from the asylum, I died in a car crash that was meticulously staged by Layla. Only on the verge of my death did I finally realize that the so-called "blood is thicker than water" mentality was nothing compared to a tear shed by Layla. The moment I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn in the exam hall. This time, I choose to submit my exam paper without anything scribbled on it. I'd like to see just how someone with a total of zero points can possibly copy off the so-called top scorer of SAT.

My sister abruptly returns to the country on the day of my wedding. My parents, brother, and fiancé abandon me to pick her up at the airport. She shares a photo of them on her social media, bragging about how she's so loved. Meanwhile, all the calls I make are rejected. My fiancé is the only one who answers, but all he tells me is not to kick up a fuss. We can always have our wedding some other day. They turn me into a laughingstock on the day I've looked forward to all my life. Everyone points at me and laughs in my face. I calmly deal with everything before writing a new number in my journal—99. This is their 99th time disappointing me; I won't wish for them to love me anymore. I fill in a request to study abroad and pack my luggage. They think I've learned to be obedient, but I'm actually about to leave forever.