badnovel

[BL] [R18] Come closer, my darling. Step into my shadows and behold the dark splendor of my cursed domain. I am Dekaris Zharqasti, lord of this forsaken castle, weaver of desires and nightmares. I offer you a spectacle—a dance of blood and ecstasy, where pleasure and pain entwine. Dare you join me?

He is my prey. Ru. My minions stole his memories, and they marked his body with forbidden kisses. And they placed him in my dimensional house. My house teems with predators: demons craving his flesh, vampires thirsting for his blood, and djinn eager to unravel his mind. Each night, our hands weave a tapestry of torment and delight across his skin, chaining him to our merciless whims. Each dawn, he claws closer to a truth that could shatter him—or unleash the power buried in his fractured soul.

But do not misunderstand, my love. Ru is no mere pawn. A dangerous spark flickers within him, a darkness that could rival even mine. In this game of seduction and deceit, he will either melt beneath my touch or rise as the monster we all fear.

Step into my world of deadly secrets and forbidden desires. Witness this cruel, transcendent show. Who will claim Ru’s heart—and his power—first? Lift the veil, my darling, but heed my warning: one misstep, and you’ll be mine for eternity.

Yours in eternal darkness,
Lord Dekaris Zharqasti

[DARKFANTASY] [DARKROMANCE] [DANMEI] [INTRIGUE] [SUPERNATURAL] [GRIMDARK] [GAME] [DEMON] [VAMPIRE] [GENIE] [MAGIC]

The Baddest

Ru's voice dropped an octave—velvety, venomous. "Brother." The word curled off his tongue like the aftertaste of spoiled fruit. "Of course." 


Mod didn't answer. A tremor skated through its flickering form, scattering light like disturbed ash. 


Ru's lashes lowered. His fingers brushed his throat, testing the phantom pull of a song's thread—still there, still his. 


"If the me I remember had wished for anything," he murmured, "it would've been blood or a crown. Or a planet to lay under my boot." His hand pressed flat against his chest, where his own heart had once beaten. "But this me—this last, sentimental clone—wished for my brother." He let out a hollow laugh. "Pathetic." 


Mod didn't say anything. The air between them was wavy and glitchy, reminiscent of a damaged memory. 


The Name That Unstitches