Addiction Monster Novels & Stories

"He's not addicted." "Yes, he is. He follows you like a wolf follows a trail. He can't stop himself. It's like he needs to be near you to breathe. It's like you're air and he's been drowning his whole life. You're the only thing that keeps him alive. You're the only thing that matters to him. You're his entire world. You're his everything. You're his reason to wake up in the morning. You're his reason to hope."

“Even when he comes back, you’ll still sneak over here every chance you get. Mommy still needs her young cock. And you’re going to keep feeding it to me, aren’t you, baby?” Jake nodded, already addicted beyond saving. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Ride me like you mean it. Tell me you don’t want your old life back.” “I don’t want it back,” I moaned, grinding down on him. “This is all I need. Your cock destroying me every day.” My pussy clenched around him as I got closer. The addiction felt real now. The echoes had taken over completely. I couldn’t imagine leaving these chains or his touch. “Please let me cum. I’m so close.” He held my hips and controlled the pace, keeping me on the edge.

But Xavier's response was a mocking laugh, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. "Oh, dear cousin, you've yet to fathom the depths to which I can sink," he taunted, his smirk widening into a sinister grin. I prepared to pull the trigger when, suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my neck, a needle injecting its venomous contents into my bloodstream. The room spun, my vision blurred, and a wave of drowsiness washed over me. "What have you done?" I managed to murmur, my voice growing faint as the drug took hold of my senses.

“Please. I need the Adagoril. Just one pill. Please.” She studied me. “You look like an addict, honey. Another reason why I can’t give you the Adagoril.” “Please…” I begged. “You know what will happen to me if I don’t take it. I will die. Please, I don’t want to die.” “Then you should have thought about that before becoming an addict.” “It’s not like I chose to be this way,” I retorted, almost yelling. “I didn’t choose to take Adagoril. My aunt made me addicted to it. I only thought that it was something I needed for my heart.”

What kind of monster was he? Moon Drop wasn’t just an aphrodisiac; it was a curse. It didn't just heighten your sexual desires; it attacked your wolf, pushing it into a frenzy. If I couldn’t find relief, the only thing I would feel would be pain. Excruciating pain, pain so intense that I would beg for anything, even any man for sex just to stop it.

“I’ve seen things I wish I hadn’t. We’re not safe here.” And then his words echo next, his answer when I naively asked why he’d hesitated so much before drinking from me. “Because the monster inside me sinks its claws into everything addictive.” It hadn’t made sense then. But now… Oh God. Did Samiel already kill a victus?

Damian was a monster but he was still, unfortunately, her friend. ***************************************************************************** Damian was back at work the next day and the entire company was happy to see him. He was a mess but he tried his best to hide it. For days straight, he was working late nights trying to put the business back in order. He saw that Xavier had bought the company shares and was incurring a massive loss but he was happy to help. He was especially grateful to Adam. Adam was working late with him and they tried their best to get the company financially buoyant again. The workload was so much and he found himself working on Sundays as if it was the new Monda

I can't believe I'm going to take another cold shower all because I'm resisting myself from f*cking little bunny. The monster is standing tall, refusing to fall down. It's so huge and hard like a rock. I slowly started moving my palm through it, stroking it gently. A soft moan escaped my lips as I rub the monster in a swift motion. At last, the white discharge flipped through the tiny opening at the top of the monster, I breathed heavily and threw my head backwards.

My name was Lindsey Hawthorn, and I had struggled with this compulsion for as long as I could remember. Everyone always thought I was a good, quiet girl, but only I knew the truth—the intense, almost unbearable craving I had for men. Just the sight of a strong, muscular man was enough to make me weak. By the time I reached college, this need had completely spiraled out of control. Sometimes, even the slightest friction while walking would trigger an overwhelming release. People would stare, probably thinking I had wet myself.