Flower Husbands Fanart Novels & Stories

Liesa Valtieri was just a psychology assistant—nothing glamorous. When her supervising therapist passed on a case, Liesa took it up. That decision dragged her into a long-term, hands-on job: fixing the emotional blind spots of business tycoon Angus Romano’s fractured personalities, one world at a time. --- **World One: The CEO and His Personal Doctor** Angus reclined dramatically on the hospital bed, eyes dark. "You only lost love," he rasped, "but I lost a leg." Liesa glanced at his chart, then his uninjured limbs. "...Angus, it's just mild discomfort in your right leg." He stared at her. "If you don't love me, this leg can go." She rubbed her temples. "I love you. Happy now?" He smiled, instantly healed. --- **World Two: Prison Kingpin and Rookie Guard** "Do you like me?" he asked, casually. Liesa didn't hesitate. "No." He nodded. "Alright. Then I'll escape tonight." "...Wait..." --- **World Three: Noble Lady and Her Devoted Attendant** Liesa handed him a book. "I want you to study more," she said. "Grow up educated. Contribute to society." The attendant hugged her waist. "No," he said calmly. "I just want to stay with you and sleep." "..." --- **World Four: Heiress Wife and Her Husbands… Plural?** Angmar Romano crossed his arms. "I'm Liesa's husband," he said. "The wedding was ruined by a certain jerk." Across the room, Durgus smirked. "Sorry. First come, first served." Liesa stared at them both. "...OMG," she muttered, "two Mr. Romonos? And they're twins?" --- **World Five: City Lord's Wife and Her Scheming Husband** Angus sighed, voice full of regret. "I've only wanted one thing," he said. "To be a kind, harmless man." Liesa, speechless, replied, "Could you put down the knife on my neck first?"

I fucked My husbands Beta. It was a mistake, or not? But I'm addicted. How can't I be? I am Diane Demora, Luna of the Delta Pack, but my marriage is a lie. For two years, Julian has played the perfect husband—gentle, patient, understanding. Yet every night, he leaves my bed empty. He lets me believe I'm infertile and there's no need for sex. After one final rejection, I run. I end up in a dark bar, desperate to forget. That's where I meet him—an older stranger whose touch awakens parts of me I thought had died. He claims me with a hunger I have never known, and for one reckless night, I let myself belong to him. Then everything falls apart. Hidden among pack records, I discover a medical audit. Three months after our wedding, Julian had a vasectomy. The truth shatters me. He never wanted a family. Never wanted an heir. Never wanted me. All he ever wanted was my father's throne. On my way to confront him, I uncover something worse. Hidden in the library shadows, I find my husband on his knees before a man whose face I cannot see. You think that's the worst of it. You're wrong. The nightmare peaks when Julian introduces the pack's new Beta and my personal guard: Dom Vormos. The same man from the bar. The same man who unraveled me with a single touch. The same man I can't forget. Now I'm trapped between a husband who wants me dead and a Beta who wants me far too much. But I refuse to be a victim. Julian will pay for every betrayal. And as for Dom? If claiming him is what it takes to become the worst wife this pack has ever seen, then so be it.

In the Santoro family, there was one rule: the heir marries a daughter from another powerful Family. But Alessio Santoro was crazy. He wanted to marry me, a nobody from a flower shop. He knelt in the family chapel for ten days straight. He even took a bullet fired by his own father, the Don. All just to walk away from his title and run away with me. I held him, crying, begging him to stop. He just smiled and kissed my eyes, wiping my tears. "Don't cry, Thea. As long as I can marry you, it's all worth it." In the end, the Santoros relented. But they had one condition: Alessio would still produce the next heir. Just not with me. He had to have a son with Aurelia Rossi. So I endured. I endured listening to them through the wall, night after agonizing night. I endured the smell of her perfume on his skin, the sight of her marks on his neck every time he kissed me. A year later, Aurelia got pregnant. It was a girl. Alessio begged me, his eyes red. "Just a little longer, Thea." So I waited another year. Finally, news came. Aurelia was pregnant with a boy. I thought we could finally leave, finally be free. But then disaster struck. Aurelia’s daughter had a sudden, violent allergic reaction. Everyone blamed me. They threw me in the cellar and left me to die. And Alessio? He believed them. This time, I was the one who gave up. I walked away from everything.

I am someone with a strong desire to share every little detail with my lover. The blush of dawn outside the safe house window, a slightly-too-bitter espresso, the new flower shop on the corner. Even if Carlo's shadow just flickered through my mind for a moment, I couldn't stop myself from hitting send. His replies were always brief, but they were instant. I used to think that was just how a cold man like him showed his love. That all changed seven days before the wedding, when I found an AI auto-responder on the burner phone he never let out of his sight. It broke down every sentence I sent, categorizing them and extracting keywords to generate the most perfectly dismissive answers. When I said I missed him, it replied, "Behave." When I said I was scared, it replied, "I'll handle it." When I wanted to argue, it replied, "Be sensible." So, for half a year, the one replying to my messages was never Carlo. Meanwhile, in another chat window, the messages between him and another woman were piled high. From simple good mornings to random midnight thoughts, From secret talks about family business to whether they should take the yacht out on the weekend. I finally understood. Carlo wasn't a cold person. It wasn't that he didn't like to share his life; he just didn't want to share it with me. And I finally decided to make a heartbroken exit from this absurd charade.

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

The day my husband, Eric Johnson, brought his foster sister home from overseas, he gave her our master bedroom. "Yvonne just lost her husband. She's heartbroken, so I want her to feel comfortable," he said. I nodded obediently. "Okay." The next day was my birthday. Yvonne said she was feeling down and wanted her brother, Eric, to go stargazing with her. Eric turned to me and said, "She really needs me right now. I'll celebrate your birthday with you later." Still, I smiled and nodded. "Okay." Ten years of marriage and I was ready to walk away from it all… Because I have lived this life once already. In my previous life, I made the mistake of asking Eric to stay with me on my birthday. I did not let him go stargazing with Yvonne. She ended up falling into the water in her sorrow and was rushed to the hospital. After that, Eric shoved my head into a bathtub and held me there until I drowned. In this second life, when Eric handed me the divorce papers and said, "I’m only marrying Yvonne to help her revoke her foreign citizenship and restore her citizenship here. Once it's done, we'll remarry." I did not hesitate. I signed my name without a second thought. By the time he came looking for me again, I was already sitting on his archenemy's lap, smiling like a flower in full bloom.

On the very day I returned home, my would-be mother-in-law slapped a check across my face. “Five million dollars. Walk away from my son. I’ve dealt with gold diggers before, who think a pregnancy can lock a man down. You’re not nearly as smart as you believe.” Before I could say a word, a girl in a white dress shrank behind her, clutching her sleeve with trembling fingers, her eyes brimming with tears. “Mrs. Sterling, please… don’t do this. What if Adrian finds out? And… if he truly cares about her, I’m willing to step aside.” I let out a soft laugh. So that was the story she had written for me. A calculating woman trying to steal her man. I bent down, picked up the check, and tucked it neatly into the deep neckline of Lily Bennett’s dress. “Here. A tip. Your performance wasn’t bad.” Then I pulled out my black card and flicked it onto the table. “Ma’am, I’ll offer you ten million. Keep your son on a leash, and tell him to stop bothering me. I find him revolting.” I paused, then added lightly, “Oh, and one more thing.” I gestured toward the delicate little flower she was guarding so carefully. “The girl you’re protecting? My father brought her home last year. His illegitimate daughter. “If anyone thinks they’re joining my family, they should probably ask the Bennetts for permission first.”

After I've completed 98 tasks for my fiancee, Cheryl Landeau, she finally agrees to marry me once I've completed the 99th task for her. For that task, I'm required to pick her up outside her company. On the day I stand outside Cheryl's company with a huge flower bouquet in my arms, I don't see her at all despite having waited till late night. Soon after, I get hospitalized due to a high fever. When I tap on my phone, the first thing I see is a photo of the marriage certificate belonging to Cheryl and her assistant, Jason York. Jason even includes a caption with the photo. "My mom is very satisfied with her daughter-in-law. Please take good care of me from now on, my dear wife." The next day, I hang a banner outside the company. "May Ms. Landeau and Mr. York grow old in harmony and be blessed with children." All of my colleagues are stunned, to say the least. At that moment, Cheryl quickly pulls me into her office. She then explains, "Jason's mom is severely ill. Her death wish is watch him get married. What's wrong with me fulfilling her wish? Can't you show more kindness toward Jason? "Now, stop throwing that tantrum of yours and get rid of the banner. Once Jason's mom passes away, I'll file for a divorce from him." I just smile as I set off more fireworks at the doorway. "Oh, you don't have to bother with a divorce. I'm worried that his mom might come back to life soon. Let's just end things here."

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+** + + My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his cock slamming in and out, deep and rough. I should have screamed. Instead my pussy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my clit as he fucked her right in front of me. He glanced over. “You like watching my cock stretch her?” I rubbed faster. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her. *** 69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband’s best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then fuck hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop. *** I’m on my knees. One thick cock buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my tits until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no cock has filled my pussy or ass yet. But I’m trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black cocks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier… hotter. I never knew I craved this so badly. *** No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you’re brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny… or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody’s watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.