whitepheonix

**"Leave me alone! Please, just let me go!"** My voice cracked as I thrashed in his iron grip, but it was useless. He scooped me up effortlessly, his hold unyielding, carrying me off to a fate I couldn’t escape.  

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.  

"I don’t want this," I whispered, my voice raw with terror. "Please… just let me go."  

My pleas barely reached his ears, or if they did, he didn’t care. His silence was louder than any threat, his indifference a dagger to my chest.  

A heartbeat later, my body hit the softness of a king-sized bed, but there was no comfort in it. My tears had nearly dried, leaving only silent sobs wracking my frame. I forced myself to speak, desperation lacing every syllable.  

"Luciano, please," I choked out. "If I’ve wronged you in any way, I’m sorry. But don’t punish me like this."  

A deafening crack split the air, and before I could react, fire exploded across my cheek. The force of the slap sent my head whipping to the side, my skin stinging from the brutal contact.  

The room pulsed with danger.  

**"No one calls me by my name,"** he growled, his voice like crushed glass—sharp, merciless. **"And no one tells me what to do."**  

His fingers curled under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. Cold, dark, and bottomless, his eyes held no mercy, no hesitation.  

"You will warm my bed," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, laced with cruel intent. "You will satisfy my every craving, no matter how disastrous, no matter how dark."  

A wicked smirk ghosted over his lips, his grip tightening.  

"Because you are mine to break. And no one stops me."  

He leaned in, his breath fanning against my trembling lips.  

"Now… come here."  

---

Story by white pheonix

Pregnant by the Mafia boss

I gingerly closed the file on the table, my fingers trembling slightly as I lifted my gaze. There he was—the person I had missed more than I could ever put into words. My savior. My brother. 


"How are you, Yang? I've seen you've become a big deal." His voice carried that familiar warmth, but there was something else laced within it—something hesitant, something almost malicious and lethal. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing before blatantly asking, "How is Mrs yang ?" His looks , however, were askance. 


I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and forced a small smile. "I—I'm good, brother. Mom is doing well, too. It's been a long time." My voice faltered at the end. I stood up instinctively, a sign of respect. He was my sworn older brother, after all. 


He took a sip from his coffee and let out a contented sigh. "Just like I love it, Yang. You've never forgotten my taste." 


Let my wife go yang