Chit Chat Random Novels & Stories

For years Hyacinth tried hard to live her life after leaving her childhood home. But she was taken by her father's men and forced her to marry a random rich man to save their company after her sister ran off. Surprisingly, she's marrying her ex-stepbrother. Her first love and first of everything. The man who protects her from her bullies. The man whom she surrenders herself to. What pains her was being the second choice... the substitute bride. For days with Raven, Hyacinth started to fall. From flowers to expensive things. She thought that it was meant for Rosie, her sister. The original bride. But she came back too soon, and that's where she sees that Raven was letting Rosie touch him. Rosie shows ownership toward Raven and even sent her a photo of them together making her decide to divorce him. She fled from him, to another continent. But he found her again and that's the start that Hyacinth get to know him better, through his friends and the people that are close to him. She's falling again and although she's terrified, she let herself fall into him. They start again and Raven shows the same love back when they were teens. However, after leaving Finland something weird arose. Unexplainable accidents and Raven was always involved. That's when she found out that Raven was hiding all of the flowers and letters from a suitors. Then, after that, a horrifying truth came from Raven's mouth, caused by Rosie and an unknown stalker.

"You really want me to fuck you?" he asked, continuing to torment my pussy with the tip of his shaft. "Yes… please," I begged, shamelessly and desperately. "Fuck me maddeningly," I moaned. "Fuck me until I can’t use my legs anymore." ** All I wanted was a one-night stand with a random guy, just to get back at my boyfriend, who had insulted me for never being able to feel anything with him. So, I left Brooklyn with my best friend, Ashley, to spend spring break in Cabo. The deal was simple: have fun like a normal young adult and hook up with any guy... just to prove a point. I ended up in the bed of a man with the most mesmerizing eyes I’d ever seen—a man I knew absolutely nothing about. He pleased me in ways I didn’t think were possible. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered brush of his hands against my skin ignited a hunger I never knew I had. But when I woke up the next morning, the stranger was gone. I thought it was just a forgotten one-night stand, someone I’d never see again. Until I found out he was my new statistics professor. It was supposed to be one meaningless night, but now I crave him in ways I never knew were possible. Even knowing he could be my downfall, I still want him. Still crave him. Still want him to ruin me in whatever way he desires.

Calla Sherman sleeps with a random guy from a bar after her boyfriend cheats on her. The following morning, she wakes up and realizes he's a drop-dead gorgeous man who looks good enough to make any woman swoon.She's so flustered that she mocks him for having terrible skills. She even leaves behind 150 dollars as a fee for his services before fleeing. The next day, Calla finds that her new boss, Mercer Garland, looks oddly familiar. Oh, God. She wants nothing more than to die when she realizes she's mistaken Mercer for a gigolo. He's the exact person who can ruin her career! What's worse, she's already pissed him off royally. One fine day, Calla backs away as Mercer stalks toward her. "Didn't you say you weren't interested in women like me who don't have curves anywhere?" He looks her over and smirks. "You're different from them. I know what you're like on the inside." Flustered, she tries to talk sense into him. "I'm sure a busty woman would be more up your alley. I'm not your type at all!" Mercer sighs softly. "I'm devastated that you've kicked me to the curb after using me, Calla. I'm not even in the mood to sign all those documents on my desk anymore."

Late one night, as I scrolled through social media, I came across a relationship influencer with over a hundred thousand followers, teaching men how to "control" their wives. "She actually tried to talk to me about privacy?" he scoffed. "I ignored her for three days, and she handed over all her passwords, crying and begging me not to leave her." The comments exploded almost instantly. The chat went wild. [Take me under your wing, man!] I felt sick to my stomach. Then, without warning, he lifted his phone and pressed a kiss to the screen. A face appeared in the reflection. Mine. Smiling, he turned back to his audience of thousands. "See this? This is the perfect wife I spent three years training." A chill ran through me. I clicked into his profile and scrolled all the way back to his first post. The upload date was the same day we got married. He claimed he was filming prank videos and that it was all just for the livestream—no wonder he got increasingly out of hand. That was when it hit me: he had been lying to me all along. From the moment I stepped into that marriage, I had been nothing more than his experiment, his content, his source of money. Fine. If that was the case, then I would turn his livestream into his worst nightmare. I picked up my phone and sat directly beneath the camera he had installed, then sent a deliberately suggestive message to another man. Three seconds later, the bedroom door burst open. Matthias stormed in and snatched my phone. After reading the message, his lips pressed into a tight line. However, he did not explode. He did not even look at me. Instead, he turned, opened his livestream, and faced the camera. "Send something through, and I'll show you exactly how to put a cheating woman in her place."

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

On the day I'm about to quit the game, I see countless live comments flashing across my vision. "Yay! The male supporting lead is about to quit the game!" "Now, the male lead won't have to worry about getting exposed for using the male supporting lead's game account to get into online relationships with others!" "Our darling male lead is too smart, after all! Whenever he goes on dates, he often uses the voice chat function in the game. That's why the male supporting lead is still kept in the dark!" "Holy shit, Henry really is lucky!" "To think that he used Vincent's max-level account to flirt with the four richest female players on the server!" "Later at 2:00 pm, he'll be meeting his first date partner, Yvonne Johnson the cold and aloof campus belle, at Cosmic Coffee!" "Tomorrow, he'll be meeting up with the top assassin in-game! The day after that, he'll go on a date with the second-highest paying player of the game! Wow, his time management skills really are amazing!" The "Henry" whom the live comments are referring to is Henry Luster, my roommate. So, he's been flirting with four of the top-tier rich female players while impersonating me, huh? More live comments streak past my eyes at that moment. "Why isn't the male supporting lead leaving? Yvonne is already waiting for the male lead right now!" "This is their first romantic date as the leads of this story! I can't wait to watch it unfold!" As I turn to look at Henry, who's styling his hair before the mirror, I suddenly realize that I'm the supporting male lead whom the live comments are referring to. My lips curl into a small smile. Since Henry has been using my identity to become a virtual casanova, then it's not wrong of me to attend each date in person on his behalf, right?

My name is Emma. At 31, I am doing well for myself. I’ve got a great job. Or at least a well paid job, my boss loves me, and my girlfriends think I’m great. More important than anyone's opinion is that of my housemate, and best friend in the world, Scott. Scott thinks the world of me and always tells me to be myself. So why do I feel the need to lie outrageously on dates? From rock-climbing to Muay Thai: when it comes to prospective boyfriends, I am compelled to embellish my C.V. with unlikely porkies that alwaysbackfire - with hilarious results. I have Craig to blame for that - he really shattered my sense of self-confidence and self-worth. But then I turn the spotlight on Scott, and he wishes he'd never brought it up. With a penchant for checked shirts and Harry Potter-style specs, I decide he needs a makeover and to experience the abysmal dating world. My friendship with Scott began in the most unconventional way. His past life had made him homeless and isolated, but he saved me. And now we are inseparable. My dating disasters began when my relationship with he-who-must-not-be-named ended. Waking up with a pounding head, a dry mouth, aching limbs and a random arm draped over my waist, I struggle to get up and then stumble to the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and stare at the hungover, half dead panda eyed loser staring back at me. What started out as a lighthearted challenge with Scott, became something more. We were prepared. But nothing could prepare us for the surprise results! Before long, I realise that our lives will never be the same again.

Gabriel Thorne was seventeen when he met his fated mate across a burning packhouse during a sanctioned werewolf purge. The moment their eyes locked, the mate bond snapped into place with devastating clarity. Dominic Ashford, the youngest billionaire Alpha in North America, rejected him instantly and publicly, shattering Gabriel's world with five brutal words: "I don't have a mate." Five years later, Gabriel has been cast out from the Holy Order, disowned by his exorcist family, and is barely surviving as a paranormal investigator when catastrophe strikes. His father is dying from a curse that can only be broken by Alpha blood willingly given. Gabriel must return to the pack territory he was exiled from and beg the mate who destroyed him for help. Dominic agrees, but his price is cruel: a thirty-day contract where Gabriel lives in his penthouse, attends pack functions as his companion, and submits to experimental mate bond suppression therapy designed to erase their connection forever. Gabriel accepts because he has no choice. Dominic believes proximity will kill the bond. Instead, it ignites into an inferno neither can control. As they're forced together, dangerous truths emerge. The curse killing Gabriel's father wasn't random, it was orchestrated. Someone inside the Holy Order is funding a conspiracy to restart the werewolf purges, and the scandalous mate bond between an exorcist heir and an Alpha is the spark that could ignite a supernatural war. Now Gabriel and Dominic must choose: break their bond to preserve the fragile peace, or claim each other and risk destroying everything their worlds have built. Their love could save both species, Or it could damn them all.

Even knowing that wailing at an Eravalen aristocratic funeral was considered disrespectful to the deceased, I let my husband's adopted sister make a scene anyway. In my previous life, my husband, Robert Baker, had a distant relative among the Eravalen aristocracy who passed away. A lawyer informed him that he stood to inherit the estate and invited him to attend the funeral. His adopted sister, Mia Carter, insisted on tagging along to see how the privileged few in another country lived. She wanted to rub shoulders with nobles and make herself look important, even planning to wail dramatically in front of everyone. I rushed to stop her. "Public mourning is taboo among Eravalen nobility. Forget inheriting anything. We'll all be thrown out!" Yet she burst into tears, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she was not good enough to mingle with aristocrats. She stormed out and was killed by street thugs in a random attack. I thought Robert would fall apart, but he stayed silent through the entire funeral and collected his inheritance without a hitch. Six months later, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the snowy mountains for a photoshoot. The moment we reached the peak, he shoved me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. "If you hadn't blown everything out of proportion, Mia never would've run off and gotten herself shot." He buried me alive in the snow. I froze to death, and he used that aristocratic fortune to become the CEO of a publicly traded company. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mia insisted on wailing at the funeral.

On the night I add my new girlfriend, Celia Spencer, into my group chat with my friends, my college roommate, Kevin Wright, suddenly posts more than a dozen screenshots in the group chat. Those screenshots feature the fragments of daily life I occasionally post on my social media feed. "Now here's where things get confusing. We only earn thousands of dollars per month. Where on earth did you get your money from in order to live such a lavish life? "I've been holding my tongue for far too long. At first, I intended to protect your pride. But now that you're dating such a wonderful, beautiful, and rich woman, I don't have the heart to see her getting lied to." In the end, Kevin tags Celia in the group chat. His words are filled with regret and pain. "Ms. Spencer, you're a rich scion, so you might not know anything about the bottom feeders' tactics. A fake scion like Luke who has racked up a huge online debt and brands his social media feed to look rich is very common in society! You have to keep your eyes open, you know! Take care not to get tricked by scammers!" As I suppress my anger, I respond with, "I never stole nor robbed from others! What's wrong with me spending my own money?" Kevin quickly retaliates with a lengthy audio message. "Your own money, you say? Your net worth isn't enough to afford even one segment of that luxury wristwatch in the photo! Why are you still pretending to be rich?" I just laugh in response. Does Kevin really think that rich people don't wear cheap stuff? What he doesn't know is that Celia, the so-called rich and beautiful woman he's trying so hard to kiss up to, is actually just someone I've hired to play the part. I'm the actual scion here, whereas Celia is just a fake heiress.