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Claimed by three Alphas

Claimed by three Alphas

5.0
LGBT+ Ozioma M

Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead. A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety. The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize. Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure. "Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more. Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely. "Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans. Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever. Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper. Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership. Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page. DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️

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I SUMMON YOU

I SUMMON YOU

4.8
LGBT+ JMFelic

"Oh, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus..." the demon drawled. "I don't like how you ignore me earlier you know." "When have I ignored you?" Marcus felt his skin hairs raise when Heron grazed his lips on the plane of his neck. "This lunch." "I didn't!" But then Heron's hand moved to pinch the skin on his chest. This ultimately made Marcus whimper, "Ahh... Sir Heron!" "I couldn't fucking fight this battle anymore, Marcus. I'm done being patient." His hands left the boy's shirt, traversing up and into Marcus' tensed face. "Oh, how I love the way your lips quake Marcus. Let's begin our training shall we?" And with that, Heron closed the gap of their mouths for the first time. ~ 0 ~ With Marcus still deciding if he should pursue becoming an exorcist priest or not, he was left with an ancestral house to care for. He needs all the help he can get to clean the house spic-and-span and the demon general of Infernal Armies, Bael, posing as a human butler, Heron, is willing to help him do so. However, surely enough, cleaning is not the only thing the demon wants to do the whole day... WARNING TO THE READERS: This is a manxboy spin.off story of Marcus and Heron, my supporting characters in SANCTUM. Please don't be confused because this story is in no way related to Sanctum although the names, setting and characters are the same. Think of this as in a parallel universe. Marcus definitely didn't become gay before he became a priest and met Ysabelle in Resurrect Thy Heart. I made this story to satisfy my other readers rooting for Heron and Marcus's relationship. And just as always, I never want to disappoint my readers. So if this story is not for you, then please don't read. However, you'd find a very surprising ending in the end. Thanks!

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Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

5.0
LGBT+ Johan Gorski

The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

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