Trapped By The Possessive Esports God
I was a Twitch streamer who got publicly humiliated by my toxic ex-boyfriend during a live broadcast. To save face, I blurted out a massive lie.
I claimed that "Killer," the untouchable god of the esports world, was actively pursuing me. But just ten minutes after I panic-quit my stream, the doorbell rang, and the esports god himself was standing at my front door with a suitcase.
"I'm the new roommate. I have nowhere else to go," he said, looking like a lost golden retriever hiding from crazy fans.
He moved into my apartment, acting entirely sweet and helpless. He couldn't even put on a duvet cover, but he made me a perfect breakfast and gently cared for me when I got hurt. He looked so genuinely innocent that I felt sick with absolute guilt for using his name for internet clout. When my ex's fans organized a massive hate campaign against me, I aggressively tweeted back to protect my new roommate's honor, doubling down on my lie.
But I didn't understand why he immediately liked my tweet, sending the entire internet into a total meltdown. I thought he was just a pure, naive gamer following his manager's PR advice to defuse the drama.
I had no idea that behind his polite smile, he wasn't innocent at all. He was a ruthless, obsessive predator who had already manipulated his way into my home, and I had just locked myself in a cage with him.
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Chapter 4
Kaylee grabbed the heavy brown paper bag from the delivery driver. She walked back into the dining area and set the DoorDash bag down on the wooden table. She let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding.
Greyson stood up from the sofa. He walked straight to the kitchen sink and washed his hands thoroughly with soap.
He shook the water off his hands. He turned to Kaylee, looking slightly embarrassed. "I actually don't know how to put a duvet cover on. Could you help me?"
Kaylee blinked. Seeing this ruthless gaming god look so helpless over a blanket felt entirely wrong.
But she was the landlord now. She wiped her hands on her jeans and walked past him into the guest room.
A pile of brand new, pure white bedding sat in the middle of the mattress. Greyson had just pulled it out of his suitcase.
Kaylee grabbed two corners of the duvet cover. She pointed at the heavy insert. "You grab those two ends."
They stood on opposite sides of the large bed. They lifted the heavy fabric, trying to shake the insert down into the cover.
Greyson, clearly unaccustomed to domestic chores, fumbled with the slick fabric. As he tried to adjust his grip, his gaze momentarily flicked upward, locking onto her face. In that split second of distraction, his massive hands misjudged the tension. He pulled way too hard, yanking the entire mass of fabric toward his side of the bed.
Kaylee wasn't ready for the force. The toe of her sock caught on the edge of the rug. She lost her balance and pitched forward.
She fell hard onto the soft mattress, a startled gasp escaping her lips.
Greyson moved instantly. He stepped forward and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist to stop her from rolling off the edge.
Through the thin cotton of her shirt, Kaylee felt the intense, burning heat of his palm pressing against her skin.
She snapped her head up. Her face was inches from his. She looked straight into his deep blue eyes, which were wide with concern.
The distance between them was less than four inches. She could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with hers.
Greyson's Adam's apple bobbed. His voice was a low, raspy whisper. "Did you hurt yourself?"
The raw gravel in his tone sent a shockwave straight to Kaylee's brain. Her mind flooded with highly inappropriate thoughts.
Her face burned like fire. She scrambled backward off the bed like she had been electrocuted. Her back slammed into the closet door.
"I'm fine!" she stammered. She turned and practically sprinted out of the room, running back to the dining table.
Greyson stood by the bed. He watched her run away, a dark, satisfied gleam flashing in his eyes.
A few minutes later, Greyson walked out of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table.
Kaylee had already ripped open the boxes. She pushed half of the massive burrito and a pile of spicy wings toward him.
Greyson picked up the burrito and took a huge bite. His eyes widened like a kid tasting sugar for the first time.
He chewed happily. "You have great taste in food," he mumbled with a full mouth.
Kaylee watched him eat. He looked so unguarded, so pure. A massive wave of guilt crashed over her.
She started mentally screaming at herself for the dirty thoughts she just had in the bedroom.
He was just an innocent guy hiding from crazy fans. He couldn't even make a bed. And she was standing there wanting to jump him. She felt like a monster.
To hide her panic and guilt, Kaylee grabbed a chicken wing dripping in dark red, extra-spicy sauce and shoved it into her mouth.
The brutal heat of the sauce exploded on her tongue. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears as the spice burned down her throat.
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9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
7.2
Clifton, the god of esports, was secretly battling a career-ending wrist injury to protect his team.
A year ago, he kissed his duo partner, Justice, only to be met with violent disgust. Justice shoved him away and dry-heaved in the rain, looking at him like a monster.
Humiliated by the straight man's raw revulsion, Clifton cut him out of his life.
But now, Justice suddenly appeared at Clifton's club as a rookie tryout.
Instead of an ambitious climber, Justice played the perfect, pathetic victim. He cowered, trembled, and acted terrified whenever Clifton was near.
He even signed a bloodsucking contract with a toxic teammate, sparking rumors he was brought in to replace Clifton as captain.
During a scrimmage, Clifton hesitated to shoot because he remembered Justice had just severely burned his hand.
Justice showed no mercy. He ruthlessly gunned Clifton down, humiliating the captain in front of the entire coaching staff.
Clifton was consumed by blinding rage and betrayal.
If Justice was so disgusted by him, why did he fake his devotion for six months just to use him?
Why was he acting like helpless prey now, after trampling all over Clifton's pride?
Determined to rip off the liar's disguise, Clifton dragged Justice into a live stream in front of sixty thousand viewers.
"He's asking if you are in love with me."
Clifton smiled cruelly, waiting for the public execution. But just as the trap snapped shut, a choked, terrified gasp came through the headset.
7.5
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash.
Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive.
Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes.
"The Ruiz family sends their regards."
Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated.
My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends.
The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand.
Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her?
Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference.
I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel.
Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust.
Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in.
Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.
9.3
A pitiful wolfless Omega, Lana discovers that she is pregnant for her beloved fiancée and Alpha to be, Asher. He is the only man she has ever loved, but her world turns upside down when her Fiancée coldly reveals that he is getting married to her sister who is also already pregnant for him.
To make matters worse, her cruel sister and cheating Fiancé banish her from her only home!
Lana is devastated, but thankfully, her best friend Jasper, helps her runaway and hide her pregnancy from her former fiancée.
8 years later, Lana has become the mother to Asher's triplets and is engaged to be married to her best friend Jasper.
But by a cruel twist of fate, Alpha Asher suddenly changes his mind and kidnaps her!
So what is Lana supposed to do when she forced to choose between two powerful men, while also fighting off the traitors and enemies surrounding her?
8.2
For three years, I scrubbed tables as a "wolfless runt," hiding my identity as the Lycan King's daughter.
It was a test for my fiancé, Alpha Connor. I wanted to see if he loved the girl, or just the crown.
He failed spectacularly tonight.
His mistress, Jaden, deliberately knocked a tray of drinks onto me during the dinner rush.
The liquid wasn't alcohol. It was concentrated silver.
My flesh hissed and bubbled as the poison ate through my skin, blocking any ability to heal.
I fell to the floor, clutching my melting hand, while Jaden faked tears and claimed I attacked her.
When Connor finally answered the video call, he saw my mangled hand. He smelled the burning flesh. He knew it was silver.
But he didn't help me.
He looked at his watch, annoyed that I was interrupting his business meeting with investors.
"Apologize to Jaden," he ordered, using his Alpha Command to crush me into submission.
"On your knees. Now."
The pain was blinding, but the betrayal cut deeper. He was forcing his Fated Mate to bow to the woman who tried to maim her.
My knees bent under the pressure, but my Royal blood refused to break.
I looked straight into the camera lens.
"No," I whispered.
I reached into my apron, bypassing the notepad, and pulled out a black satellite phone I hadn't touched in years.
"Code Black," I said to the King on the other end. "Send the Guard."
Connor thought he was disciplining a waitress.
He didn't know he just declared war on the Royal Family.