Eren Crying Novels & Stories

Content Warning: This story contains a significant amount of adult content, including sexual material, alcohol, and violence. Reader discretion is advised. Moans echoed back and forth inside one of the rooms of a five star hotel in Stockholm, Sweden. The young woman could not hold herself back from crying out as a tall, powerfully built man above her moved relentlessly, his muscular body driving into hers. Their bodies were slick with sweat, the act of two people joining fueled by raw desire. “Damn it, you’re so tight and incredible, Lexi. You always satisfy me, you always bring me perfectly to my climax,” Austin said, struggling to catch his breath after release. Alexi turned onto her side, her hand tracing every inch of Austin Stanley’s damp skin, the man who had just made love to her. “You know this is wrong, don’t you, Austin? What we have isn’t right. Why do you trap me in a labyrinth that makes me lose my way?” “If you’re lost, call only me. I’m the only one you should ever call, Alexi Mauren. Only me, Austin Stanley, can guide you. Do you understand?” Austin leaned in, capturing her thin lips. “Listen to me. As long as I’m by your side, I’ll make sure your world stays safe.” Alexi wavered. Being entangled in a forbidden relationship with someone she should never have had was something that could never truly last. What if the world discovered their illicit affair? Would it still show her kindness? Or would the world turn its back on her completely?

On the day we finalized our college applications, I chose Cromwell University. The moment my brother saw it, his expression turned icy. Before I even understood what was happening, everything went black. When I woke up, I was trapped inside a glass box. All because our cousin Wendy had failed to get into Cromwell. To make it up to her, he ordered his men to carry me to an underground auction, putting me on display for a hundred strangers to gawk at for entertainment. I pounded on the glass, crying and begging for someone, anyone, to let me out. No one came. Men gathered around, their gazes shameless and invasive, murmuring to each other as if I were an object, something to be assessed and priced. My brother stood among them, watching. Then he smiled. "You brought this on yourself," he said lightly. "You had everything, our parents' support and my protection, and still you went after Wendy. You even had someone threaten her. "Because of you, she missed her exams. Because of you, she lost Cromwell." He took a step closer, his voice turning colder. "Your life's been too easy. It's time you learned what it feels like to be humiliated." I sank to the floor of the glass box, my body trembling, my mind going blank. While I was being reduced to nothing, he booked an entire resort in Wendy's honor, hosting a grand celebration for her acceptance to Halvard University. Later, when our parents called and asked him to bring me along, his assistant interrupted with a message. "Mr. Lawson… the police have confirmed Miss Kelly's death."

She underwent a death experience—at the hands of the family she cared for most, who then sold her off. At eight years old, Seraphina Valeza was adopted from an orphanage by the Hawthorne family, a run-down third-rate family in Lunada City. She lived for fifteen years there, always careful, thankful for a house that was not her home. She was an excellent student, kept her sufferings to herself, and obeyed them in return for their "kindness." When the Hawthorne family was on the verge of bankruptcy, they chose survival over conscience. Seraphina was forced to marry Julian Moreau, the heir of a second-rate elite family. The marriage was hell. Behind closed doors, Julian humiliated her, controlled her every move, and crushed her dignity. In public, she was paraded as a trophy wife; in private, she was nothing more than a disposable tool. Once Julian seized full control of the Hawthorne family, Seraphina lost even her last value. With no way out, she resorted to suicide. But destiny wanted otherwise and gave her another chance. She found herself in the same spot as she was on the day of her marriage. This time she did neither crying nor begging. Instead, she smiled and switched the groom. In front of stunned guests, Seraphina walked past Julian and stopped before a man sitting casually at the banquet table, dressed out of place and enjoying the food as if the wedding had nothing to do with him. Lucien Cross. The annoying guy she constantly quarreled with in college. The man who cried while carrying her dying body in her past life. The one whose love she came to realize onlqy when it was too late. This time, Seraphina will not let him go. And all those who wronged her will be punished, without exception.

Ever since I was little, I knew my future mate would be one of two Alpha candidates: Mitchell or Jax. Even with all their Alpha pride, I never once doubted that set future. The pack elders always said it was natural for Alpha candidates to focus on getting stronger and controlling the pack. My mother, Lyra, even told me that every brutal fight they got into was so the winner could give me, their Luna, the ultimate honor. That is, until I and Elara – this Omega stray they'd taken in – got ambushed and captured by our old enemies, the Nightshade pack. Mitchell and Jax only had enough of the life-saving Moonpetal herb for one of us. And they both chose to give it to Elara. To save myself in that fire, I forced a shift. The power surge was too much. The heat twisted my cheekbone, and just like that, I was disfigured. After they dragged me out – like an afterthought – I watched those two future Alphas crying over Elara, who didn't have a scratch on her. "Thank the Moon Goddess, Elara, you're alive." "Once we sort out who's the new Alpha of Blackwood, whoever it is will give you the most honored spot right under the Luna, Elara. Don't you worry. We'll give you the best of everything our pack has, make sure you never suffer again." "Elara, you're the real Luna in our hearts." When I came to, I cut off that ridiculous mate bond for good. Empty promises and a trampled destiny? I was done with it. But after I left, they stayed by my cave every day, begging me to come back.

After I discovered that my husband, Leonardo Marchetti, could not let go of his first love, I started teaching our daughter Sofia to call him "Uncle Leonardo." Sofia sprained her ankle at school. In the middle of the night, Leonardo got a phone call. Valentina was crying on the other end. Her daughter Lily had a nightmare and would not stop screaming for a father. Leonardo left without saying a word. I pressed an ice pack against Sofia's swollen ankle and whispered, "Say 'goodbye, Uncle Leonardo.'" Leonardo promised to come to Sofia's school sports day. Then Valentina called, sobbing that Lily had no father to run the three legged race with him. Leonardo walked out without a second thought. I just handed the phone to Sofia and told her to tell her teacher, "Uncle Leonardo says he cannot make it." Every time, Sofia hesitated. Sofia did not understand why I was making her do this. Until one day, Leonardo finally realized how much he had failed us. He put down all his mob business for Sofia's piano recital and swore he would not miss it. Sofia was backstage with the other children. Then Leonardo's phone buzzed. Valentina. I could not hear what she said, but I could guess. Lily was crying. Lily needed him. Lily did not have a father. Leonardo came back. But before Leonardo could begin his excuse, Sofia's voice came from the stage. "It is okay, Uncle Leonardo. You go take care of your other kid. Mom staying here to watch me is enough."

‘Callie,’ he began, his voice husky, ‘crying over your ex-boyfriend won’t solve anything.’ Confusion etched across her face, Callie furrowed her brows. ‘Then what will? ’ she demanded, her voice tinged with frustration. Elias leaned closer, his warm breath caressing her cheek. ‘You need to show him what he’s lost. Find a man who’s more handsome, more powerful, and richer than him. Then, make a grand entrance into his life with your new partner.’ Callie scoffed, her eyes rolling in disbelief. ‘Where am I supposed to find someone like that? ’ Elias’s fingers gently lifted her chin, locking their gazes together. ‘I can be that man,’ he said. ‘If you agree to be with me, I’ll protect you from any harm, including your ex-boyfriend.’ ********************************************** Elias Westwood, billionaire heir turned professional solider, a commanding presence on the battlefield, conceals a tender heart that beats for only one woman——Callie Hawthorne, a fearless surgical resident, possesses an innocent charm and wields her skills like a warrior in the operating theatre. Their first encounter thrusts them into a dangerous game of deception. Elias uses Callie as a pawn, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, fooling his pursuers. In that moment, Callie feels the allure of the enigmatic soldier, and a strange connection sparks between them. An impulsive decision seals their fate—a hasty marriage to escape an arranged union and prove Callie’s readiness to move on from a past love. Little did they know, this act would propel them onto an unforeseen path. Will Elias and Callie emerge unscathed from the shadows, or will their sacrifices shatter their dreams forever? Discover their fight for a future filled with hope, trust, and the promise of a happy ending.

The newly hired genius programmer was a proud woman who always thought she could turn the entire industry on its head. When an investor tried to pressure her into drinking, she flipped the table and slapped him across the face. "My worth is in my programming skills, not my ability to network. Asking me to drink with you is an insult." Enraged, Clint Warner immediately withdrew the eighty-million investment agreement. He even swore he would never work with us again. As the Head of Product, I scrambled to apologize. The situation was only salvaged after I drank so much that I ended up hospitalized. … Later, I complained to the boss and demanded that he discipline the new hire. To my shock, he dismissed the matter. "If the employee causes any problem, it's because the supervisor failed in their duty. The promised million-dollar dividend bonus is cancelled. Take this as your warning." Fed up, I wrote down Mary Hansen's name on the Counseling-Out List. She couldn't care less. "I have abilities you’ll never match, unlike a scheming bootlicker like you. If anyone tries to go after me, the project will be halted. Don't come crying to me when everything collapses." I did not argue with her then. However, when the Counseling-Out List was announced, I found my own name on it. The boss claimed it was a mistake to force me to leave. Then he promoted Mary to my position and even granted her the authority of a vice president. "You were only great because of the company's support. Mary's not the same. She's young and truly talented. She’ll lead us to greater heights." With a cold smirk on my face, I made my way to our competitor, taking the crucial piece of our company's technology with me.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

My daughter-in-law cheated on my son behind his back, and I caught her. When I confronted her, she turned the tables on me, accusing me instead. I told my son everything exactly as it happened, but she broke down crying and accused me of bullying her. "Ever since I married into the Simmons family, you've never been happy with me," she sobbed. "If I’d known you’d slander me like this, I would’ve been better off dead!" She attempted to hurt herself to prove her innocence, but my son stopped her. "Mom, how could you accuse my wife like that? You're my own mother, but this is too much!" he shouted. Furious, he moved out with her. Later, I fell gravely ill and begged my son to come see me one last time. When he finally arrived, he brought her with him. To my horror, they removed my oxygen tube. As I struggled to breathe, I heard her smug voice whisper in my ear: "Old hag, if it weren't for you accusing me of cheating, Herman and I wouldn’t have gotten your inheritance so quickly!" She laughed coldly. "Oh, and next time you accuse someone, make sure you have evidence. Did you really think your word alone could ruin me?" I died choking on my final breath. Afterward, they lived happily, spending my money without a care in the world. But then, I woke up. It was the day I caught her cheating again. This time, I went straight to work. I replaced the lubricant at home with industrial-strength glue. She wanted proof? Fine. I’d give her proof.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.