Belly Button Tickle Novels & Stories

It was our seventh bonding anniversary. However, Xavier Ashton, the Alpha who controlled everything, brought home his pregnant lover. For the past seven years, he worshipped me. He would kiss my hand in front of everyone and say I was his moon, the only Luna of his life. Yet now, his hand rested on another she-wolf's belly, as if showcasing a miracle. "She's carrying my first pup. You have the Moon Goddess's power. I want you to bless her. Also, she's been having nightmares during the pregnancy, so she'll take the main bedroom." I froze, almost convinced I had misheard him. "Are you joking? That's my room!" He looked up, his tone carrying a warning. "From today, it's hers." Anger nearly made me laugh. My voice shook, but it was clear. "You got some lowly Omega she-wolf pregnant and brought her into our home? Xavier Ashton, you've completely lost your mind!" "I won't say this a third time. Move out now." His aura turned ice-cold in an instant. His Alpha pressure hit me head-on, making my wolf whimper inside me. He thought I would obediently submit, but he did not know that I had already packed my bags weeks ago, when I received the video of his affair. As I walked toward the front door, I heard him sneer behind me, "Let her throw a tantrum. She'll come crawling back in less than three days." The pack members snickered behind me, already betting on how many days I would last this time. However, the private car sent to pick me up was already waiting at the door. This time, I was cutting ties with him for good.

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

We had been married for five years, but Chuck Gorman spent more than half his time at the condo opposite the river. He claimed that his older brother, Calvin, had passed away at a young age, leaving behind his widow, who had no one to depend on, and that as Calvin's brother, he was responsible for taking care of both families. This was a Gorman family value of upholding loyalty and kinship. I had believed his words then. To help him uphold his loyalty and dignity, I tolerated it whenever he was absent during important holidays and said nothing when he split his time between his sister-in-law and me during Christmas dinner. I even had to hold back my tongue when others mocked me for being a weak woman who was willing to 'share her husband'. However, Chuck had always been gentle yet distant when he spoke to me. This continued until we were involved in an accident with several collisions. The car we were in was wrecked. As I shielded my heavily pregnant belly, I broke out in cold sweat from the pain. I kept hitting the window while shouting, "Chuck! Save the baby…" Chuck climbed out from the driver's seat and glanced at my bleeding body, only to turn away to pry open the car door of the back seat. He shielded Sandi Lemming tightly in his arms, holding her against his chest despite her suffering only minor scratches on the forehead. "Don't look, Sandi. It's okay. I'm right here." He patted her gently on the back while comforting her over and over to calm her nerves. As for me, I was stuck inside the car due to the dented car door. I realized that it was not loyalty and kinship he was practising. He was just unable to see Sandi come to harm at all.

“If you ever call that bastard my child again, I will yank it out of your belly!” My heart shatters like a knife plunged deep. I stay still, my body shaking. “Now sign these papers and get out of my life!” he barks, throwing the papers at me. “If I ever see you close to me or my territory, I will have you beheaded in the most painful way imaginable!” **** Isla Monroe had given up everything: her dreams, her wishes, even her best friend; just to please her cold, distant husband. She endured the silence, the neglect, the loneliness, hoping that one day he would change… that he would finally look at her as something more than just the trophy wife. The day she learned she was pregnant, Isla was accused of an affair with the gardener. The staff turned on her, her family cast her out, and Marcus believed them without question. Saving her unborn babies was more important than proving her innocence, so Isla left quietly. “From now onwards, I will be your mother and your father. I will never let those who discarded us come close to you.” She fled the city. Five years later, Marcus runs into two identical little children who look just like him. They have his red lips and deep blue eyes. He is instantly drawn to them. “Little one, who is your mother?” The children point to Isla, the wife he discarded, now powerful and determined to keep him from her children. “Get away from my children!” she hisses, urging the nannies to take them away. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak to strangers, my babies?” Marcus is shocked. But what will he do when he finds out she is married to his blood, his rival? Drama with a twist.

"It's all your fault. You know you did this to me," he said, cradling my face with his hands, lightly brushing his lips against mine. His breathing was staggered and he groaned when my body writhed under him. "You made a big mistake by coming into my room." "Sorry, I'll never com---" He sucked my lips with an intense urgency, his fingers digging into my waist. Caressing my tongue with his, he could feel my suppressed moan and kissed me even more passionately. "Fuck! I love the way you taste." His words were awakening some primal needs inside me. The way his lips slid across my skin sent heat straight to my core. His already crazy hard boner was flaring against my belly button. I was moaning against his ear while he licked my neck. He was going to make Adalyn his Luna in three days. What was I even doing here? I pushed him away with all my strength. What surprised me was that he didn't try to stop me from running away. He was clearly in more control of the situation than I was. *** Her mate thinks she is a human, and she lets him believe so... The ruthless Alpha Kian from the Storm Moon Pack wipes out an enemy pack only to realize that the enemy pack Luna, Nyla, is his second chance mate. Nyla is torn between avenging her soulmate's death and falling for the heartless man. Things go awry when the Storm Moon Pack members go disappearing one by one every full moon night. Will the alpha find out Nyla's true identity? Will Nyla bring doom to the alpha and his pack or give in to the mate bond?

WARNING: This story contains extreme content, including non-consensual to consensual themes, breeding, public humiliation, degradation, taboo elements, rough claiming and graphic romance acts. Not suitable for readers under 18. Proceed with caution - this is dark, filthy naughty story with no redemption arc. I was always the extra daughter, unwanted, unseen, and disposable. While my sister Lia was cherished, I was the one they sold to save everything. On her wedding day, I became the bride instead. Veiled and silent, I was forced into Adrian Laurent’s bed, the cold, ruthless billionaire who had fallen for her picture. That night, he didn’t know it was me. Drunk and burning with lust, he pinned me down, ripped my wedding dress open, and made love to me like a man possessed. He buried himself deep inside me with every brutal thrust, groaning Lia’s name against my throat while I came apart beneath him, shattered by unwanted pleasure. The next morning, disgust replaced his hunger. Humiliated and blamed for a crime I didn’t commit, I became his invisible wife, used, ignored, and broken. He only used me to satisfy his cravings for needs , claiming me whenever he sees me in the house, ruthless forcing his manhood into my mouth and dipping it down my throat filling me up. After claiming me like a slave, I would catch him having soft romantic pleasurable moment with my sister like he was a puppy before her. Until the secret growing in my belly gave me the strength to run. Years later, I returned. Rich. Powerful. Untouchable. But the moment Adrian sees me again, and lays eyes on the children who carry his blood, his obsession ignites. He will never let me go again. And this time, he won’t be gentle

Delilah thought she married the perfect man. Charming. Respectable. Devoted. But then she discovered the man she trusted was a fraud — cheating behind her back, controlling her every move, and secretly stealing from the people who once believed in him. Her marriage wasn’t love. It was a trap. And when she lost the child she was carrying, alone, abandoned, and broken in a cold hospital bed, everything shattered. That’s when he returned. Thorne Weston. The estranged, adopted brother her husband never spoke of. The boy who once made her college life hell — cruel words, wicked smirks and relentless taunts. He's her tormentor. Her shadow. The one who looked at her like he wanted to ruin her… and maybe always did. He disappeared after graduation. Vanished. Forgotten. But now he’s back — colder, richer, and far more dangerous. And he’s watching her. And when she breaks down in the hospital, barely breathing through grief, he corners her in the shadows and makes her an offer that freezes her blood — and sets her body ablaze. “You want revenge? I want you. Be mine… and I’ll destroy him for you.” She should scream. She should hate him. But hate doesn’t explain the fire curling in her belly every time he whispers her name. Hate doesn’t make her knees tremble when he steps too close, smelling of smoke, leather, and sin. And hate isn’t what makes her crave the rough, twisted salvation only he can give. Because Thorne Weston is no longer a cruel boy with a chip on his shoulder. He’s a man forged in violence. Obsessed. Possessive. Unhinged. And he doesn’t just want her — he owns her. Body. Soul. And every shattered piece her husband left behind.

Despite having been married for 25 years now, my wife, Sasha Fuller, and I have done it less than ten times. During our 25th wedding anniversary, however, Sasha, who has always claimed to be uninterested in intimacy, ends up doing it 30 times with a male escort at a clubhouse. The couch ends up completely drenched. This is when I realize just how wrong I've been all along. Even after her betrayal is exposed, Sasha adamantly refuses to admit to any wrongdoing. On the contrary, she starts condemning me. Hurt and upset, I proceed to spend three days arguing with her about it. Even my friends and relatives try to talk me down. "You two have been married for over 20 years now. She's even the CEO of Fuller Group. What's the big deal if she sleeps with a male escort? Don't end your marriage over something this trivial." "All these years, a live-in son-in-law like you only managed to establish yourself with the help of the Fuller family anyway. Don't be so ungrateful." With my heart in anguish, I look at Sasha and say, "Cut off all contact with him, and things between us can go back to the way they used to be." However, Sasha retrieves a pregnancy test report from her briefcase and silently takes off her wedding ring. "Colin, I'm already 45 years old. Even if you can't have children, you can't expect me to go my whole life without one as well, right?" She strokes her belly without the slightest trace of guilt in her eyes. "If you insist on making a big deal over this, then I have no choice but to divorce you." My hands, hidden by my sleeves, clench into fists briefly before falling lax again. "Let's get a divorce then." Not only am I going to get a divorce, but I'm going to give Sasha and her affair partner a big surprise.

On the day of my twenty-first birthday, I posted online: [I want a lollipop.] My childhood rival, who was overseas, dropped everything there and flew back. He showered and showed up at my doorstep. I vowed to savor lollipops more carefully from then on—they were simply too sweet. From that moment, even after I was exposed as a fake heiress, everyone in high society knew: Jonathan Chase wanted to marry me. When the Sterling family carried out their harsh punishment, the hundred lashes meant for me were almost entirely taken by him—ninety-nine of them, borne by his own body. When they locked me in the basement, with darkness closing in from all sides, his shouts each day became my only light. "Chloe, don't be afraid. I'll get you out," he promised. And he did. He really saved me. He also made me witness, with my own eyes, his magnificent wedding to the true heiress. The man who once couldn't bear to make me wait had, "for my sake", told me to wait three times. The first time was on his wedding day. Pain was etched into every line of his face. "Chloe, if I don't marry Eleanor, they'll never let you go. Wait for me for three years. Three years from now, I'll marry you." The second time was three years later. He looked at Eleanor's rounded belly, hesitation written all over his face. "Chloe… she's carrying my child. You'll have to wait a little longer." The third time was just yesterday. I was just a step away from his kid. He pushed me violently to the floor, his face tight with warning. "Chloe, can't you just wait? Why do you have to take it out on a kid?" Sunlight fell across the face that once loved me, now stripped of all its former warmth. "If that's how it is… then maybe it's time for me to leave too." I said inwardly.

How long does it take to give up on a man you've loved for ten years? It takes me 3 seconds. The first second, I signed my name on the contract to become the chief designer of a renowned studio in Paris. The second second, I lock away ten years of my youth in my heart. The third second, I completely prepare to leave Levi's world. My fiancé Levi is the heir of the Smith Group, the absolute aristocracy. For others, he is untouchable. But for me, he's the childhood sweetheart who, with a crooked paper ring he made himself for the first time in his hand, told me, "You're the only girl I'll ever marry, even if I have to wait a hundred years." From that moment on, the only person I wanted to marry was Levi, and I never doubted that I would eventually marry Levi. But on the day of our engagement, he disappeared. I waited for a whole year, waiting for a message, a phone call, or a knock on the door, but nothing came. Later, he finally appeared. He stood next to a red Ferrari, holding flowers, and said that he still loved me, that he wasn't ready before, and begged me to give him another chance. I almost believed him. But at the same time, I received a provocative message from Levi's first love, Ruby: [Aren't you curious where he went during the time he eloped from your engagement? I'm already pregnant with Levi's child, and he loves kissing my pregnant belly the most.] I wiped away my tears, turned around, and applied to study in the Sorbonne University Faculty of Medicine, leaving only one sentence: "Levi, we're breaking up." Learning that I was leaving, Levi went crazy. He braved the heavy rain and blocked the entrance to my new place, his eyes red, asking me: "Stella, if I make Ruby abort the child, can you come back to me?"