Hypocrisy Novels & Stories

Dana was looking at him in amusement as she saw his expression change but she was too lazy to ask. “Now that you know, do you want to see him?” Ben asked hesitantly “No” Dana didn’t think his actions should be indulged. “Heartless” Ben breathed although he was extremely happy inside. “Yes. It can be interpreted as such.” Dana raised her chin “I don’t indulge behaviors that should be condemned. I can’t sympathize with a flaw just because it was done on my behalf and condone when done by someone else for someone else. I am not a hypocrite. Everyone has their own justification for their actions but that doesn’t make it right.” She had no idea why she was explaining… she had never bothered about

“You know, for someone who fucks her stepson, you act like you’ve been wronged.” Her breath hitched. “W-what do you mean?” “You fuck your stepson: beg for his cock, squirt on it, then moan like a fucking whore. And yet, you act like you’ve been wronged. That’s hypocrisy.” “No it’s not,” she whispered, trying to pull back. “You’re manipulating me.” I laughed low and dark. “Really? Manipulating you? Aren’t you the one dripping?” I spun her around fast, her back to my chest then shoved her forward until her palms slapped the wall.

Kyle retorted. “Is that a dig? Because you’re upset I didn’t include you as one of my mates?” I replied. “Yes, but not entirely. I just see you being too hypocritical about this issue. If it doesn’t benefit you, you’ll be against it. But if it brings what you perceive as good, you’ll be for it.” “It’s not like that,” I replied irritably. “That’s how I see it.” “Are you trying to go against me this way?”

I could tolerate that his love was a pretense because the assistance he rendered was absolutely authentic, and my gratitude for him was boundless. I suddenly felt a crushing, sharp ache in my chest that tore me from my painful memories. I clutched at my chest, fully aware that the system was draining away my life force. I then murmured to myself, with an uncanny calmness, "I suppose with the antagonist dying now, everyone in this world will be happy about that." Henry could finally stop living in dread, constantly afraid that I would become vengeful and hurt the woman he cherished. He would no longer be required to sacrifice his whole life, maintaining a false, deceitful marriage with a woma

she replied, indignant. “You’re not even capable of defending yourself, of taking responsibility. You live with the dream that someone will come and rescue you,” he spat, as if it was the most absurd thing ever to leave his lips. “That’s my problem. If you’re fine being alone and resentful, I have no reason to say anything to you, so stay out of my business.” Libia crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Who did he think he was to decide what was right or wrong?

“You see, that’s the thing about marriages. It’s just a paper contract. It’s not really anything meaningful. All of this, it’s just a bunch of words spoken out loud, written on paper. It doesn’t really matter what does and doesn’t happen.” I crouch again, closer this time. “All I need is your signature. And I’ll let you have a nice little quick death instead of the painful one I want you to suffer. That can be our little bargain. Our little secret. Maybe I’ll even let Sophie live. Your father, well, he’s kind of just a lost cause. But I don’t think you’d really mind much since he…” I curl my fingers around my own throat, slow, deliberate, and squeeze. “You know.”

“I expect honesty. Pretending doesn’t interest me. We’re not children playing house.” She leans back in her chair, eyes sparking. “Then here’s honesty. You’re a bastard who takes pleasure in other people’s misery.” I smile faintly. “I can’t deny that I’m currently taking pleasure in your misery. Which is completely self-inflicted by the way.” Her fork clatters against porcelain. “At least you admit it.” “I’m an honest man. One who keeps my word.” “That’s not honesty. That’s arrogance dressed up as a virtue.” “Truth and arrogance look the same when I happen to be right and you hate that I am.”

Vada noticed how Karen flinched when the crowd cleared a path to make way for the man behind the voice. "Oh no, that's Jeff Harold, the poker fingered lord." she whispered to Vada who will be risking her money for the game. "I don't understand those terms Karen, explain." Vada whispered as she scrutinized the so-called poker fingered dude that got the once proud Karen to whimper like a freezing puppy, he was sitting down comfortably as he had three lady whores at his disposal, one massaging his shoulders while the other was kneeling between his thighs, giving him a blow job and the last was counting his money and dusting his draught pieces. He had a dim looking eyes, obviously getting to his

“You speak big words but they always never align with the truth of your actions. You are a hypocrite, child. An even worse coward than any I’ve seen.” “How dare you!” “No. How dare you! How dare you dream without knowing your limits. How dare you talks easily of accepting dream even when your heart speaks differently. You are contradicting yourself, child. You just said way before that dreams won’t matter if you sacrifice your life, and now you’re trying to convince of your half-assed resolve? Do you think you can fool me?”

"To clean up their image, they even exploit their own mother. That depressed look Sophia always has is probably an act for the old man too." My fingernails dug hard into my palm, blood dripping down my fist onto my expensive evening gown. But I heard something even more heartbreaking. Dante's voice was very low but filled with cold disgust. "Moretti women are synonymous with hypocrisy, cruelty, and selfishness to the bone. They have no hearts, only a thirst for power and money. Do you think Sophia really loves me? She's just using me to secure her position." I couldn't listen anymore. I stood up abruptly, pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of them.