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[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This

Look, I’m Riven Kael. Twenty-eight, data analyst, zero ambition beyond paying rent and avoiding small talk. My life was spreadsheets, instant ramen, and the occasional ghost I pretended not to see. Then one mandatory company gala, because of course it was mandatory, turned into the universe’s worst prank. I touched a cursed amulet. I just touched it. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a penthouse that costs more than my entire bloodline, sporting a glowing marriage sigil on my wrist, legally and magically hitched to Azryth Valek. Yes, that Azryth Valek. The CEO of half the planet, a walking sin in a three-piece suit, an ancient demon lord who was literally sealed inside said amulet until I accidentally set him free. He says we’re bound. Separation means both of us die slowly and painfully. Soul-consumption optional but very much on the table if I’m stupid enough to fall for him. Which, newsflash, I am not. I’m not. Shut up. So now I’m living with an unfortunately hot CEO from hell, dodging assassination attempts disguised as corporate mergers, banishing spirits that show up at my desk like unpaid interns, and pretending we’re a power couple for the cameras while he smirks like he knows exactly how much I want to strangle him. Or kiss him. Or both. Brain, we are not doing this. I didn’t sign up for boardroom battles, multiversal rifts, or the terrifying realization that the arrogant demon who ruined my life might be the only one who truly sees me. But here I am. Still complaining, still fighting, still falling, against every shred of common sense, hopelessly, stupidly, irrevocably in love. Because when the universe marries you to the devil, it doesn’t ask for consent. It just hands you the ring. And damn it, I’m keeping it.
Bizet_Algiz · 284.1k Views

The Author's Promise: 100 Battles To Return Home

Garima wrote the story. Survival is what matters most to her now. A bookish nerd from today's Mumbai loves spicy snacks, stories, and staying awake past midnight. Suddenly, her eyes open in a place born from her own imagination. A world where kingdoms rise and fall. Where Devil Lords will one day plunge the continent into chaos. And where everyone believes she is the Saintess chosen by the Goddess. Home has just a single path leading back to it. Garima leads fighters across a century of fights, one clash after another shaping the fate of everything. Easy... right? Truth stays clear only to Garima She wrote this world. Who stands beside them now might turn away later. What fights are headed for collapse. Armed with nothing but chaotic confidence, terrible singing, random Hindi slang that people mistake for "divine language," and the terrifying knowledge of the future, Garima begins rewriting fate itself. A loose rhythm carries her forward, voice cracking on syllables meant for gods, words slurring into decisions that bend time without warning. It's improvisation under pressure. Lines blur between guesses and truth when she speaks. The timeline stumbles, then follows her lead. Not because it should. Because there's no one else loud enough to try. Yet rewriting the tale demands something in return. If Garima slips A lie born from good intent could unravel everything she fights to protect. One hundred battles. One promise. A saintess steps off the page, her voice unscripted. She moves without permission, lines forgotten. Her silence speaks louder than vows ever could. Pages flutter to the floor, untouched by doctrine. What remains is motion, quiet and unplanned.
Druna_Forever · 10.5k Views