Akuma No Mi Devil Fruit

La séptima vez que Simón Narváez faltó a nuestra cita para registrar el matrimonio, corté todo vínculo con él de forma radical. En las reuniones de amigos donde él asistía, yo faltaba deliberadamente. Cuando lo invitaron al acto del aniversario universitario, abandoné el lugar antes de su presentación. Si la empresa donde trabajaba optaba por colaborar con él, presentaba mi renuncia inmediata. Incluso en Nochevieja, cuando vino a mi casa para dar los saludos del Año Nuevo, inventé una excusa para no estar en casa. Lo bloqueé en el móvil, eliminé nuestros contactos mutuos, una ruptura total y definitiva. Ni yo lo contactaba, ni él tenía forma de encontrarme. Durante treinta años de mi existencia, había dedicado la mayor parte de mi tiempo a amarlo con devoción ciega, a cuidarlo con esmero. No fue hasta esa séptima vez en el registro civil, cuando una vez más me dejó esperando sola, que finalmente abrí los ojos. ¡Bastó ya de aquella situación! Preferí mil veces la soledad absoluta que seguir aguardando noche tras noche en un hogar vacío.

Un par de días antes del Año Nuevo, Diego —mi novio— decidió irse a la playa con su asistente. Yo no dije nada. No lloré, no grité, no hice escándalo. Incluso lo ayudé a empacar, con todo el cariño del mundo. ¿Y él qué hizo? Se burló. Me dijo que, ahora que estaba embarazada, por fin había aprendido a comportarme. Apenas se fue, me fui directo a abortar. En mi vida pasada, había intentado retenerlo con ese bebé. Y lo había logrado: él no se había marchado. Al final, su asistente había ido sola a la playa, y ahí la habían matado de una forma brutal. Diego siempre fingía que nada le afectaba. Siempre con esa cara tranquila, como si todo le diera igual. Pero, cuando estaba a punto de dar a luz, fue él quien me abrió el vientre con sus propias manos. Apretó con fuerza… hasta que asesinó a mi hijo. Y fue en ese momento cuando lo entendí todo: siempre me había despreciado, y desde la muerte de aquella mujer… me odiaba sin medida. Por eso, ahora, que había vuelto a nacer, pensaba dejarlo sin nada.

Compré en línea a un íncubo atractivo, uno de esos que vienen con esa distancia que seduce. Pero respiraba tan fuerte, con un jadeo grave atorado en la garganta, y me observaba sin parpadear. Su temperatura era tan alta que, al rozarme, sentía que podía quemarme. Pensé que quizá estaba enfermo y corrí a contactar a Soporte al Cliente. —¿Podrían ayudarme? Mi íncubo respira muy pesado, está muy caliente y no deja de mirarme… Después de escuchar mi explicación, cayó un silencio incómodo al otro lado. —Señorita… ¿no será que no está enfermo, sino hambriento? —Y lo que quiere no es medicina, sino besarla o… algo más.

Roscoe vowed to never put someone on a pedestal, especially if it's because of love. But when the so-called "Devil" of Mafia world met the angel in disguise, Agatha Herodez, he found himself dragging her towards the nearest church, forcedly put a ring on her finger, and vowed to never let her get off the hook from their shotgun marriage. Yup. The devil didn't just find a new toy. He finally got his biggest obsession. Her.

An invitation coated in dust, an oath in exchange of a soul and a bond too tight to break. But it is all an accident, a huge mistake Ria got herself into, tangling herself in ropes of the only demon king known to travel with chaos following behind him like a shadow, the devil himself. What happens when Ria accidentally sells her soul to the devil over something so desperate and cynical. And how does their bond come to be, bringing along dark desires and suppressed emotions? Why is the devil taking interest on this particular soul enough to stain with his dust? How will Ria set herself free?

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Yes, I do,” I said, my lips trembling as I leaned closer, tilting my face toward his. “Please… I need this. I need you.” “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Before I could say anything else, his lips crashed into mine. A moan tore from my throat as I clung to him, pulling him closer, my body pressing against his. **** Thea Leighton had it all; wealth, power, and a marriage to Curtis Blackwood, the man she thought she loved. But in one devastating night, it was all ripped away. Betrayed, penniless, and desperate, she finds herself at rock bottom… until a mysterious stranger rescues her from the darkness. Noah Blackwood is ruthless, powerful, and dangerously irresistible. The black sheep of the Blackwood family, he built his empire in Europe, far from the chaos of his bloodline. But when fate brings Thea into his orbit, he sees an opportunity. One that involves a billion-dollar deal and the chance to dismantle the man who destroyed her. In the crazy world Thea now finds herself in, she is forced to ask herself; Can she truly trust the devil she married? Or is this nothing but a game to him? Flip the page and find out!

No one has ever been able to look him in the eye and lived to tell the tale. Even other supernatural beings trembled at the sight of him, and here in the human world, people avoided him because of the dark aura around him, but one girl stood out. The human girl who told him that having a dark aura doesn't make him dangerous. She had said she could be friends with him because she doesn't judge a book by its cover, and she was convinced that Lucas could do more good in the human world. And she said all these, even without the slightest hint of what he was. These words seemed to soften Lucas, who was known to be the devil's son. But can she really tame him? Can she still love him when she finds out that he was pure evil? Can Lucas protect her from harm with all the wrongs he had done in supernatural realm, even the wrongs he had done to his father, the devil?

On the day of her wedding, Liliana Crawford’s life shatters when the church doors burst open and Dante Moretti, the ruthless head of the Italian mafia, claims her as his own. What should have been the start of a safe, predictable life with her fiancé turns into a nightmare of blood, betrayal, and chains. Dante doesn’t want her love—he wants her obedience. To him, Liliana is more than just leverage; she’s a weapon, a possession, a doll to break and reshape. But as days in his gilded cage stretch into nights filled with dangerous temptation, Liliana discovers that beneath his cruelty lies a twisted obsession that burns hotter than hatred. Torn between the man she was raised to marry and the devil who stole her, Liliana must survive a world of violence and power games where every touch is a threat, every kiss a battle, and every promise comes drenched in blood. Dark, intoxicating, and dangerously addictive, The Devil’s Claim is a mafia romance where love is war, passion is punishment, and surrender might be the only way to survive.

Ayla Monroe’s life shatters the night she returns home to find her apartment ransacked — and herself abducted by strangers in black suits. The reason? Her reckless brother Mason has vanished after stealing two million dollars from the D'Argento Syndicate — the most feared criminal empire in New York. And now, Lucian D’Argento wants payment. But money isn’t what he’s after. Lucian, the cold and calculating mafia enforcer known only in whispers as the “ghost advisor,” gives Ayla an ultimatum: work for him for six months to repay the debt — or disappear like her brother. He wants her mind. Her gift. Her ability to break ciphers, read patterns, and strategize like a war general. What begins as forced servitude soon evolves into a twisted game of power, secrets, and slow-burning obsession. Ayla is determined to find her brother and destroy Lucian’s empire from the inside. But every move she makes pulls her deeper into a world of blood, betrayal, and temptation. As walls close in and loyalties shift, Ayla faces an impossible truth: Sometimes the devil doesn’t take your soul. He teaches you how to burn with it.

Before our marking ceremony, my fiancé, Adrian Conner, insists on bringing his childhood sweetheart along on our trip—all because Flora Wooledge says she also wants to see the northern lights. He switches my first-class ticket to Flora's name. He says, "I'll fly first class with Flora. You can take connecting flights by land. The doctor said it's not good for a pregnant woman to stay at high altitude for too long." I don't cry or argue. Instead, I calmly push him toward Flora. He snorts. "You've finally learned to behave. You're not as clingy and troublesome as before." After he leaves, I quietly sign the abortion consent form at the hospital. Then, I book a ticket to the southern hemisphere. In my past life, I begged and clung to him, hoping to keep him with our pup. But on that trip, Flora was attacked by rogue wolves and torn apart in the snow. Adrian kept a calm facade. Yet on the night I was about to give birth, he dragged me back home and cut open my belly with his own hands. He stood there and listened as our pup's cries slowly faded away. He poured all his hatred onto me. He believed I caused Flora's death and that I ruined his chance to become the Conner family's heir. To him, I was nothing more than a sacrificial pawn. In this new life, when I step off the private jet, I see Adrian standing there with his eyes bloodshot. He stares at my belly and asks, "Where's the pup?" Before I can answer, his half-brother wraps an arm around my waist. "Adrian, show some respect to your sister-in-law."