Fling Short Stories & Novels

My period is delayed once again, so I need to visit the gynecology department. In order to avoid embarrassing myself in public, I specifically ask for a doctor with a feminine name. That's how I make an appointment with Dr. Jessie Lloyd. But it turns out that Jessie is a man! After the initial embarrassment, I realize that Jessie is looking at me weirdly.

Dean Russo's gaming mate breaks up with him. In his foul mood, he forces everyone to work overtime. "Hey Kylie, you're his Beta, right? Go talk to Alpha Dean. We all want to get out of here on time." "Are you serious? Just seeing his gloomy face freaks me out." Everyone keeps urging me to go and calm Dean down, but what no one realizes is that the gaming mate he can't move on from is actually me. Just when everything seems fine in our online relationship, he unexpectedly asks to meet face-to-face. But if he ever learns that his beloved gaming mate is none other than his Beta, he's bound to be furious. For my own safety, I decide to end things before they can spiral out of control. But who would expect the breakup to hit him so hard? Yet, if I want to avoid working overtime, it seems like I have no choice but to get back together with him.

When I woke up, my right hand was clutching a pair of men's Calvin Klein underwear. Two letters were embroidered in gold thread on the inside of the waistband: J.C. A push notification popped up right on cue. Number three on TikTok's trending page: Dalton University's hockey captain loses five pairs of underwear in one week; roommate reveals the victim has been forced to go commando. In the video, Chase Jacobson's roommate, Tyler Brooks, held an empty drawer up to the camera and tearfully demanded justice. And under my pillow, a suspicious little bundle bulged. I slowly reached over. One pair, two, three, four. Plus the one in my hand: five. The underwear thief the whole school was hunting... turned out to be me.

From the day I married Jason, I knew I was only a stand-in. He was heir to the vampire throne. I was nothing — the most forgettable daughter of a declining human noble family. The only reason he'd ever looked twice at me was this face. A face that happened to mirror Vicky's — his first love, already married to someone else. For three years after the wedding, I copied her carefully. I smiled whenever I saw him. He would touch my cheek, his eyes cold. “Vicky never smiled like that. Not to please someone.” To stay by his side, I got pregnant again and again — and lost each pregnancy, one after another, in the chill of his indifference. Three years of marriage. I had nothing left but scars. And still I would not let go. Until Vicky's divorce brought her back, and she came to the door herself. At a banquet, assassins struck. Jason's first instinct was to drop me and go to her. Nearly dying finally cleared my head. I signed the divorce papers myself and handed them to him. Later, after I finally walked away, Jason came looking for me — again and again. His eyes were blood-red, his voice unsteady. “Elena. I finally know. You're the one I love.” I just looked at him and smiled, calm. “Too late.”

The Moon Goddess offered me her protection. If I died, I'd get one chance to be reborn through the werewolf trials. I was born with "sensory impairment." I wasn't an Omega, but I couldn't shift into a wolf. I couldn't see or sense wolves in their lupine forms or their power. When I appeared alongside ninety-nine other trial candidates in an ancient rainforest shrouded in thick fog and darkness, everyone assumed I wouldn't make it past the first day. But here I was, in the terrifying rainforest nests, treating a ghostly wolf pup, drowned for its unusual coat color, as my own little cub. And, I flirted with a bloodthirsty vampire spirit who took pleasure in killing, treating him like a lover. I even befriended the evil twin Hexenbiest, treating them like sisters. The first time we met, I reached out and ran my hand over the vampire's abs. "Nice body," I commented, "just a bit on the short side." He let out a humorless laugh, reattached the head he'd been holding to his neck, and gripped my chin. "I'm six-foot-five," he said. "Want to take another look?"

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

A rare chase figure popped out of my blind box and somehow bound itself to me through an empathy link. Two days later, the doll vanished. During class, I suddenly felt two warm hands stroking my neck. A shiver ran through me. Damn it! Whoever has my empathy doll is putting their hands all over it. Before I could react, those hands slid lower and squeezed my breasts. A rush of tingling pleasure flooded my body. I reached out to stop them without thinking. The sudden movement made the cold, serious young professor at the front of the room turn to look at me. With one hand in his pocket, he pointed at the formula on the board. "Dalia, come and solve it." I had barely taken two steps when a finger suddenly brushed against the sensitive slit between my legs. I wasn't used to being touched, so I couldn't take the sudden stimulation. My knees buckled, and a moan slipped out…

Ever since a couple moved in next door, I've become addicted to the thrill of peeping on them. Megan Steele's an aloof doctor during the day, and when night falls, she transforms into a vixen. She wears lace and wields a leather whip. Their moans and groans seep through the wall, and I let their ebb and flow gradually calm the heat burning inside me. The next morning, she slips a note into my hand. "Peeping is no fun. It's much more exciting to experience it yourself." That night, she knocks on my door and invites me to spend the night with her. I foolishly think love has fallen into my lap, only to realize that it's a honey trap engineered to put me behind bars.

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

I am a succubus, and during my heat cycle, I must have sex with a partner to survive. I unexpectedly saved a serpentfolk man, a species renowned in the beast-kin world for possessing the most potent sexual prowess of all. I leveraged the favor to make him help me through my heat as an incubus. But just as I was clinging to him again, scrolling comments appeared before my eyes — and I discovered I was the villainess in a novel. The male lead secretly despised me. The real heroine was about to appear. And once he recovered his memories, I'd be tossed aside. So I decided to divorce him. But my serpent husband didn't seem to agree with that plan.

For three months, the same steamy dream has haunted my nights. There's always a tall, faceless man. Every time, he kisses every inch of me. Heat pools in my belly, making me tremble until I shatter. I always wake up gasping, heart pounding. Staring at the damp sheets, I'd pathetically tell myself I was just touch-starved. Craving release. But last night, he spoke. His voice was deep, thick with desire. "I wish I could hold you for real. Be inside you. My little star. Let's meet. In the Eternal City. Please?" I froze. He's in the Eternal City? He's real?! I wanted to ask how to find him, but the dream shifted. Suddenly, I was seeing through his eyes. I saw him leaning against a lavish bed, his right hand sliding down to grip his hard length. My pulse raced. Then, I saw it. Carved into the bedpost was a pomegranate crest. My heart stopped. The Night House. The absolute rulers of the Eternal City. Descendants of the Underworld God. Mortals didn't cross them. And me? I was just a newly appointed court astrologer working for them. I couldn't afford to offend a single one of them.

I'm met with bad news the moment I woke up. Apparently, I have a condition. My skin needs frequent intimate contact, or I break out in a painful, unbearable rash. The good news? I somehow wake up in a Shifter Realm. To keep my symptoms under control, I buy a pair of White Tiger Shifter twins. The older sister, Sierra Valle, has me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, while her younger sister, Sabrina Valle, gets Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays are up for grabs, and they settle the matter with rock-paper-scissors. Whoever wins gets to spend the day with me. This Sunday, however, neither of them is willing to give an inch. Just as I'm about to suggest that the three of us could simply share a bed, a stream of comments suddenly flashes across my vision. [Seriously, this side character is disgusting. Does he even know that both female protagonists throw up every time they're intimate with him?] [Those poor girls. Not only can they not be with the person they actually love, but they also have to put up with that ugly bastard humiliating them every single day.] [Don't worry. The male protagonist is here now. He'll save both female protagonists. In the end, the side character will get on his bad side, and he'll have their limbs ripped off and their skin flayed. Just thinking about it is so satisfying.] I stare at the comments in stunned silence. Then, I immediately take two steps back and wave my hands. "Never mind. Let's… not do this today." The sisters, who somehow manage to strip off half their clothes in the span of three seconds, freeze where they stand.

On the day I reunite with my ex-boyfriend, Zachary Carter, I'm in my electrician's uniform, arguing with a client. "I'm not leaving until you pay me, you pervert! You asked for an attractive woman to come over to your house, and now you're refusing to pay? Let's see what will happen when your wife gets home!" I yell. The door slams shut with a loud bang, and several bills are thrown onto the floor. As I crouch down to pick up the money, Zachary stands before me holding the keys to his Porsche. "You'd rather scam people and risk getting beaten to death than come back to me to ask for help?" he asked. Behind me, the client is still screaming at me. "You're crazy! I paid for an attractive woman to come over—not for an attractive woman to come over and fix my wiring!"

"If you won't meet me, we're done!" I typed out the message, my fingertips trembling with anger. A few months ago, I'd started dating someone I met on an underground comic forum. He was gentle, clingy, talented at drawing, had a beautiful voice, and best of all, he showered me with gold coins at the drop of a hat. Summer break had arrived, and I'd been begging him to meet in person. He refused every single time. Why did other couples get to hold hands, hug, and kiss? While all I got was a cold chat window, day after day. In a fit of anger, I sent the breakup message. The moment the message showed as delivered, a deafening crash erupted outside my window. The glass rattled and hummed, and the night wind surged in, dragging the curtains with it. The next second, a massive black-and-white creature slammed into my living room. It had a pair of enormous bat wings, white fur dusted with moonlight, long pointed ears, small but sharp fangs, and half-lidded green eyes. It looked like a monster that had tumbled straight out of a castle painting. I stood frozen, though my hand had already found the kitchen frying pan. "A... a bat?" Before I could scream, another cascade of clattering sounds filled the room. Gold louis, rubies, black pearls, and diamonds spilled across the floor from beneath it. For a moment, I couldn't decide whether to call animal control first or hide this pile of treasure that could buy half the building.

I was a she-wolf in heat. During this cycle, I needed release multiple times a day, or the ache became unbearable. Every morning, I woke up soaking wet, my panties clinging to my slick entrance. Even the slightest movement made the emptiness feel maddening. My Alpha mate, Ethan, was supposed to be home taking care of my needs, but he’d been away on pack business for over two weeks. After patrolling the territory, I couldn't suppress the urge any longer. Panting heavily, I ducked behind a secluded thicket and began to touch myself. Just then, a rough, large hand grabbed my ass from behind, squeezing hard. A shiver ran through my entire body. I intended to snap at the intruder, ready to tell him to fuck off, but when I turned around, my face burned with a blush. It was Liam—Ethan's brother who had just arrived at the pack. He was a tall, handsome Alpha with rock-hard muscles and eyes burning with lust. He hadn't recognized me; he thought I was just some random she-wolf in heat and continued to grope me shamelessly. "Let's see who we have here," Liam murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Just a little she-wolf in heat, acting like a bitch in need." His Alpha pheromones enveloped me, driving my inner wolf wild with the heat. My slick coated my thighs as the wetness increased. My muscles tensed, and my nipples hardened to the point of pain, aching to be pinched by him. Embarrassment warred with desire. I knew this was wrong—he was my mate's brother. What if Ethan found out? But my body wouldn't listen. My hips rocked back and forth of their own accord, chasing the pressure of his fingers. But just then, my phone buzzed. It was Ethan……

On the first day of school, I pulled down the pants of Luke Shea, the campus heartthrob, and that gained me notoriety right away. Due to the incident, I hid behind a mask to attend classes. A week later, Luke pinned me against a corner and said menacingly, “You have to take responsibility, now that you’ve seen my body. “You better not think about dumping me after messing with me.” Oh, I wouldn’t dare. Guess I had to take him in then.

In our tenth year together, the King of the Gods, Aetheon, threw the grandest wedding I had ever seen on the peak of Mount Olympus. And at the ceremony itself, he calmly told me he had cheated on me. "Go on with the rite, or stop it right now. It's your call." He swirled the wine in his cup, bored. He told me that just before the ceremony began, he had sex with a mortal girl. The world went cold around me. I stared up at the king standing high above me. "Do you love her that much?" His brow creased slightly, as if he thought I was making too much of it. "Not really. She's a fragile little mortal, nothing more." "You've just been so proper, so well-behaved these past ten years. Never a flaw I could find. It was interesting, for once, to be adored by someone who didn't know any better." He turned the thunder ring on his finger as if none of it mattered. "Don't worry. If you choose to go through with the ceremony, you'll still be my queen—no question. And if you want to throw a fit about it, fine. Throw your fit. I won't stop you." I stood frozen on the altar platform. I had waited ten years for this day. And now the perfect ceremony in front of me pressed down on my chest until I couldn't breathe.

Hayden Baxter's sidepiece comes up to me and throws yet another tantrum. "I love Hayden too much. Can't you let me have him?" Hayden sits quietly on one side but texts me, "Just say yes and humor her for a bit." I do as I am told, then wordlessly begin to pack up my stuff so I can move out of the home I share with Hayden. On my way out, I hear his friends jesting, "Elena is surprisingly obedient. Does this mean she'll abort her baby if you ask her to, Hayden?" Hayden raises a brow, looking nonchalant. "Want to place a bet on it? "I bet she'd whine and throw a fit at the hospital entrance in a week, only to give in and do as she's told." I don't argue. Instead, I quietly tap on my conversation with someone else. "Will you marry me?" "Yes."

Adrian Vance and I had been secretly married for ten years, and I had always been his perfect wife. He was the president of a hospital. But lately he'd fallen in love with playing broke. I asked him to pick up blackberries; he came home with bananas and a sad little story about money. I needed a ride to my own surgery; he drove me there rattling along in a beat-up van, because the van fit the part. And when our daughter was dying and the one person who could save her was him, he looked a stranger in the eye and swore he was nobody, just an assistant, certainly not the hospital's president. That was the moment it finally landed. He hadn't drifted into an affair on a whim. He had chosen, with his whole heart, to walk away from his wife and his child. Fine. I'd take our daughter and clear the way for his great love.

Unable to take it anymore, I upload a photo of my husband, Johann Garner, holding hands with his secretary, Eva Ford, to the company's group chat. A long while later, Johann finally replies, "It's just something we do when we're working together. Those who are vile in nature will always view things differently from others." Messages from his colleagues begin flooding the group chat immediately. They all discuss whether or not I'm delusional. But I'm the only one who knows just how skilled Johann is at manipulating others as an expert manipulator. After muting the group chat, I look down at the ring Johann has slipped onto my finger when he first proposed to me. When exactly can I escape from the prison he has built around me?