Metal Gear Solid Novels Novels & Stories

“Please... Take care of my people...”-Lancelot Ral Constance- Sakamaki Yuu is a gay, middle-aged, disabled man. His vices are what makes him shy away from society, yet he harboured hope for a change in his life. It didn’t get any better. Receiving a report on his deteriorating health makes it feel like the entire world is falling on him. Rather than hoping for a change, he now hoped that he could at least leave a trace on this world, which was what caused him to insist becoming the donor for her nephew. A heart donor, which guarantees absolute death. Yet at the very least, his heart would live well inside her. It’s okay if his heart is the only trace that he left. That’s what should happen. Yet by the time he opened his eyes, he realized that he was reincarnated as one of the mobs that supports the villainess in one of the web novels that he had read, namely Lancelot Ral Constance. Not only that, his character is destined to die in a month by the crown prince’s hand. That being said, how donating his heart has to do anything with him waking up as a completely different person? And what’s with these people calling him a noble? And what’s with this need to appeal his knowledge to help the townsfolk? And why the crown prince is handsome damnit! [Uploading cadence: Every Sunday]

“You really think a chrome leash makes me yours?” Timothy’s voice was a jagged shard of glass, his pulse thrumming frantically against the cold metal of the Blackwell collar. Kan leaned in, the scent of expensive bourbon and gunpowder clinging to him. He captured Timothy’s chin, forcing those defiant lavender eyes to meet his own. “It doesn’t make you mine, little ghost. It just keeps you still long enough for me to show you why you’ll never want to leave.” Behind him, Gideon’s shadow fell over them both, heavy and suffocating. “Careful, Kan,” the enforcer rumbled, his knuckles still stained with the blood of the men who’d tried to stop them. “He’s a reaper. He doesn't want a home. He wants a body count.” One Ghost. Two Predators. No Escape. Timothy Gal is a shadow. A high-level operative for the Nash Rebellion, he’s spent his life as a nameless tool in the war-torn Sopttyi District. He doesn’t feel, he doesn’t miss, and he certainly doesn't belong to anyone. But when a routine surveillance mission in Saati Town goes south, he catches the eye of the two most dangerous men in the Blackwell Mafia. Gideon Blackwell is the muscle—a man of controlled violence and territorial hunger. Kan Nelblack is the mind—a predator with a silver tongue and a taste for absolute submission. They don’t just want Timothy’s secrets. They want his soul.

My husband and my best friend had seemingly vanished during my grandfather-in-law's funeral. As I searched for them, I passed Shawn Whitaker's coffin and suddenly saw a live chat window flash into view: [Oh goodie, we're finally dealing with a male lead with a 200 IQ! He dragged Best Girl straight into the coffin before that bitch could find out!] [Aww, he's comforting Best Girl because she's scared of the dark! Aaaaahhhhh!] [That annoying extra is still outside looking for Vincent. She's so dumb, oh my god. I'm right here cheering for Best Boy to cheat with Best Girl because I swear that bitch exists just to get in their way!] Fury surged through me. I moved to flip the coffin lid open, but Jasmine grabbed my arm. "Wait! He can't possibly be in there. I think he went to buy Grandpa coffin nails." [Get yourself a little sister who helps you find happiness like Jazzy, chat.] [And now, in the warm, cramped, humid darkness, two bodies collide and sparks fly. This is metal as hell.] [It's also dangerous as hell. I'm just glad our guy was smart enough to leave a crack for air.] I smirked. Oh, was he? I slammed the lid shut, dragged a nearby lounge chair over, and settled into it. "We've got an hour before the funeral begins, don't we? I think I'll keep Grandpa company." The audience was stunned. [An hour?! They're going to die in there!]

Adam lifted her high into the air. “Hold onto the bar, baby.” Startled, she reached up and grasped the metal, her back against the wall. He stepped right under her, wrapped her legs around his neck and shoulders. His hands gripped her rounded ass and pulled her pussy right up against his mouth. She gasped and arched her back. Adam felt her incredible need. “I’m not going to make you wait, sweetheart.” “Please,” she whispered. “Please.” **** When Katie Lloyd learns her stepfather is dying, she’ll do anything to reach him. Stranded by bad weather and no transportation, she’s forced to accept help from the last man she wants to be trapped with: Adam Pierce. Big, brutal, arrogant... and the one person she’s argued with nonstop since the day they met. A five-day road trip with him sounds like hell. But Katie is out of options. Adam respects Katie’s talent as a photographer, even if her stubbornness drives him insane. Then an accident exposes the truth about her past... and everything changes. Adam shifts from adversary to protector, determined to get Katie home and face the man who destroyed her childhood. Along endless highways and dangerous truths, attraction ignites where anger once lived. And when the journey ends, Adam wants more than her survival – he wants to help her rebuild. In his arms, and in his bed, if she’ll let him.

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

At my father's wake, my wife came in carrying her son. The boy was less than two years old. He was not mine. In front of me, in front of every person there to mourn my father, she opened the urn and held the boy over it. I screamed and lunged for the urn. The Vance security team was on me before I cleared the aisle. They held me on the floor. My father's ashes, mixed with the boy's urine, smeared across my face and into my mouth. I could not stop crying. Stella Vance straightened her skirt. "Zane has been crying every night. Our adviser said the ash of an honored elder will calm a child like that. Good for his health." The taste of metal came up the back of my throat. Before I could move, she was already at the door. "Have his ashes dried out by morning. Zane will need it again tomorrow night." By the time I came back to myself, she was gone. I held the rage in. I sent her one message. "You think you're going to do this to my father. You're insane. The divorce papers are coming." After that, every message I sent was blocked. I turned to the woman next to me, the woman who had stood beside me my whole life. And I said, "I will sign the company over to you. Help me bury Vance Group." Cassia Wynn looked at me a long time. "I don't want the company. I want you." I went still. Then I said, "Yes."

Samuel Blanton gave me a rare antique every time he asked me to do something or abandoned me. In just two months, I'd collected 94 antiques. Then, the 95th package arrived from the auction house, and with it, a message from his true love, Zara Hill. [Hey, should the invitations for my and Samuel's wedding have patterns or just a solid color? [By the way, the wedding's next month. I really hope you can make it.] I didn't argue or make a scene. I just got a wedding gift ready and sent it to Zara myself. That night, Samuel came into my room. He said he wanted to reward me for not making a scene by giving me a child. On the wedding day, when Zara found out I was pregnant, she ran to the cliff, screaming she was going to jump. The usually cold and proud Samuel groveled before me for the first time, begging me to terminate the pregnancy. Everyone around us was waiting to see my reaction. But I obeyed. That very day, I went to the hospital. Samuel held me tightly, saying, "Ophelia, I'm only marrying Zara out of obligation. Once we divorce in a few months, I promise I'll give you a child again, okay?" But he didn't know… I had decided to leave him.

Modern romance novels are a very familiar and popular genre among young people today. But coming to: Becoming the beloved wife of a tyrannical billionaire, that familiar genre has been turned into a completely new direction, from the writing style to the way the plot is built, it gives us a unique experience. Invisible charm, unique qualities, unique only in "Becoming the cruel wife of a tyrannical billionaire." The details are described meticulously, every action, gesture to the heart of the character is clearly present as if the character is standing in front of us. In terms of content, as the name suggests, the couple Violet - Ernesta are equally "evil"! Because of that, dramatic dramas, half crying and laughing were created continuously throughout the work. Violet, the second lady of the Mesia family, is talented and exceptionally arrogant, she is an excellent student of the Security Intelligence Academy. But what about excellence? Violet Mesia herself came here just to pursue the male god Kelsey – the lover in her heart. To put it another way, "evil", is to steal her husband from Fiona - Kelsey's fiancée. “Who do you think this Violet Messia is? That Fiona was destined to be robbed by this Violet Messiah!” It all started on that fateful day, the day when Violet Mesia she heard that Kelsey and Fiona's wedding took place. For someone who likes to play villains like Violet Mesia, how can she let her crush become another girl's husband so easily? So that wild female ghost immediately made a bold decision: "replace the bride".

After I was reborn, when Blake's childhood sweetheart Catherine cut a lock of my hair during a party dare — again — I didn't do what I did in my past life. I didn't shear off all her hair in front of everyone and turn her into a bald wolf. I didn't lose control and storm into the Council of Elders when Blake defended her, threatening to sever our mate bond. Instead, I calmly removed the Luna's crown from my head and placed it on Catherine's. "The crown's hers now. Have fun with her." I put on my coat and walked out of the estate without looking back. It wasn't that I wanted to bow to Catherine. But in my past life, after I severed the bond with Blake, things went horribly wrong. He threw me into a cell made of pure silver, like I was some irredeemable criminal, and left me there while the metal scorched my skin day and night. When I finally escaped, I was poisoned by a witch from a rival pack. Dying from the pain, I abandoned every shred of my dignity and crawled to the doors of the Temple of the Moon Goddess, begging him to let the witch give me the antidote. He was kissing Catherine. He didn't even tell his guards to let me in. I died from the poison — one day before my father, the Alpha King, came to find me. I refused to meet that fate again. So I was done with Blake.

Victor and I were nothing more than a pair of sworn enemies married inside the camp. He hated me for handing over my frail sister to the research institute, all so they could extract the antiviral serum from her blood. And I hated him for never seeing anyone but her, even in the apocalypse, when she could barely lift a metal rod. For the ten years of the apocalypse, the words we said to each other most often were, "Die a miserable death." … However, when the zombie horde finally broke through the last line of defense, he chained me to the modified mech truck and went out alone to face it. "Live…" I watched as the tide of corpses swallowed him whole, the crack of breaking bones mixing with the sound of flesh being torn apart. On the edge of death, he pulled out my sister's faded photo and placed it over the one clean spot on his chest. "This life is yours. But if there's a next one, don't go near her again." … That night, when I returned, I blew up the camp. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the zombie king. His razor-sharp claws closed around my throat, and I smiled as I took hold of his hand. "Let's make a deal. Give humans five more years, and I'll willingly be your queen." Last time, he gave his life to save me. This time, I'll be the monster—so they can all get what they want.