I Hate Men Novels & Stories

“I love you, we can still make this work, I just don't like seeing you with him.” I stared at him. “Who I stand next to isn't your business anymore.” I shook my head. “And don't tell me you love me, you don't cheat on someone you love. You don’t let another woman humiliate someone you love. And you definitely don’t stand there and call someone you love a whore.” “Leave me alone.” His hope shattered. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t wait outside my classes. Don’t corner me in hallways like this.”

“Once in college, Damen and his lab partner went out on a date.” “What no! Stop!” He tried to stop her. “The girl was allergic to sunflower seeds. She didn't know it at that point. She had a severe attack after having only one bite from her salad. He got so scared. He thought she was dying, and he almost started crying.” She said between fits of laughter. “What?” Penelope laughed. Damen was so embarrassed. He covered his face with his hands. “I hate you. I hate you so much.” He shook his head. “Ah! It's fine we are all friends. And friends should know about each other's embarrassing moments.” She patted her shoulder.

I fully-fledged ignored him for the whole month but that day luck was not on my side. The day when our Hate War officially started... ****Vote and Comment***

As much as I despise the men in these buildings, I have a special kind of hate for the woman who thought she was going to steal my mate from me, then kill him so Peter could take over my pack. “If you see my sperm donor, he’s mine,” Siren growls from beside me. “I think there are enough Alpha assholes to go around, Siren,” I say. “That one, in particular, needs to feel my fist in his face.” Since I understand the hatred for a father who never valued me because I was a woman and who did unimaginable things to women just because he could, I agree. “Fine, you get your asshole of a father, I get Bitchtine.”

I hate men. "Mother told me if you hate trouble, you should stay away from it. That is to say if you hate men, then you shouldn't keep coming around them," Romano whispers beside me, making my heart skip in fright. He laughs mockingly and I turn my face to glare at him, “Stop reading my fucking mind.” I tell and he rolls his eyes.

But still, says nothing. “So?” I urge. “Oh. For a second, I had forgotten. Okay, let me think. What do men dislike? What do they dislike?” Hmm. “The first thing I am aware that men dislike… no, not dislike. Dislike is not the word. Hate. Yes, hate. They hate clinginess.” How calm she is while saying this gives it the convincing feature. “They do?” “Of course. No man I have met likes clinginess. They love the distance and the chase. So it is advisable to give them their space.”

Hate is clearly visible in her eyes. "Men do nothing but destroys your life... You don't try to influence me, your father also cheated on your mother and my father did the same thing... Men are heartless creatures and they only need women for their selfish needs..." Well! I think we have something serious issues here. Need to solve them first. Is this why she always fight with me, because she hates men. "Okay! Cool down... Now go to the bed." "You need to work hard, she hates men!"

This is my home now. My luggage stacked like rubbish waiting to be taken out. I clenched my fist. Pressed my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. "I hate myself!" The words tore out of me loud and raw, bouncing off the shelter walls. I hit the seat with my palm. Once. Twice. "Fuck! I hate men! I hate everybody!" My voice cracked and broke and I let it.

He smacked his dick on my cheek, hovering over me. I hate people like you. I hate them. I hate those men who think they can overpower women just because they’ve got a bit more muscle. Even more than that, I hate those who respond with ‘she was asking for it.’ I hate the people who take it personally and say ‘not everyone is like that’ instead of just supporting the victim. I hate them. I hate everyone. If this went all the way, after it would be over – no one would believe me. If they believed me, they wouldn’t empathize. They’d protect the perpetrator.

Like some part of him knew I hated being here just as much as I hated him watching my every move. I hated that. Because it felt like he saw me. And I didn’t want to be seen. Not by him. So I did what I always did when I felt something too close to real. I pushed. “Well, if I’m so horrible, why don’t you just quit?” I asked, stepping closer. “Go back to wherever you came from. Let my father hire a real bodyguard instead of... whatever this is.” He didn’t flinch. “Because you’re not horrible.”