Monologues Wicked Novels & Stories

//Red wild eyes going to sleep and waking up//Had to have the green since you were just a little wolf pup//They ask you if you want another bowl-full you turn and bark YupYup. And just so we can recap//You weren't always a monster//You were a gentleman when I first met you//For two months then I saw the real monster in you//You had me in your trap and then I saw that you were turning//You began to snap and then you were cracking and squirming//I found it disturbing//But I held on for months hoping that around you'd be turning.

“Are you hurt?” I gaped at him. What kind of cruel joke was this? How had he changed clothes so fast? Why was he pretending not to know me? My blood turned to fire. “You,” I hissed, yanking my arm from his grasp. “Stop pretending to be some polished saint in public. You’re a monster behind closed doors.” His eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?” “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” I spat. He looked genuinely taken aback. “I don’t follow—”

My hands begin to tremble at the thought. “A means to make sure your father doesn’t suffer the most horrible death in Mistral Hollow,” he says, his eyes gleaming with malice. “You know that casting out a werewolf can induce rogueness. No one spares a rogue—they’re killed at first sight. What a horrible way to go… I heard it. You lost Alec to it. Don’t want Reginald Wildewood to end that way, huh? Then do this. End the life of your bastard husband.”

" Poor him... He was already going crazy about you and then he had to have that damn flu on the wedding night... God must have conspired against him. Got the punishment for the sins he committed earlier. " " MOHIT !!! Stop. Talking. About. Him." " Awww you are missing him terribly... " " Yes, I am... Now give me some work to do or I would kill you. " " Ok ok... Cool down. Please click some more pictures of a few designs as I paired them with different things and accessories and it gives a different effect. " " Ok, I will do it right away. I think Monisha and Wasim are here. " " Yes, they are... "

His palm was heavy, sweating slightly against my skin, and his pinky finger, the one with the heavy gold Vance ring, was hooked dangerously close to the wettest part of me. My pussy throbbed so hard I thought I might pass out. "Gentlemen," Hugh boomed, his voice rich, authoritative, and completely fake. "This is Elara. My ward. The light of the house since we lost my dear wife." Applause rang out. I offered the smile I’d practiced in the mirror a thousand times. "Thank you, Daddy." Hugh turned to me, his eyes crinkling with a warmth that didn't reach his black, hungry pupils.

She was wearing stiletto heels, and I expected that because Wicked people need to walk on their toes, they wear heels a lot. “El, the old elder who got stripped of her fucking title in the coven," Harley said as she sat in the bed, putting her weight on us who were underneath it. “It's hurting my back," Nikky whispered to me, with a face of disgust. “You have to bear the pain, or you can come out if you want to die," I said, sarcastically, and she scoffed at me. “What are you doing? You did your worst to me, and I didn't retaliate; what's the problem now?" El asked, sitting on her chair.

I let out a hiss that slices through Natasha's performance. She stiffens momentarily before remembering to tremble. "You want to play the dutiful daughter now?" My voice rises with each word, gaining strength and purpose. "You want to rewrite history in front of these sheep? And Your mother," I continue, shifting my gaze to Camilla, "Is nothing but a glorified mistress!" A sharp, scandalized, and ravenous gasps ripple through the crowd. The kind of collective breath people take when they know they've just witnessed something unforgivable… and unforgettable.

Thomas drops his drink. The next queen sings live—like live live—and when she belts the final note of And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going, I swear I hear angels sobbing. We’re breathless with laughter and awe when Mona Lisa reappears on stage, fanning herself dramatically with a sequined paddle. “Alright, my glittery degenerates,” she calls, voice smooth as velvet, “time for a little fundraising.” The crowd quiets. “We’re doing an auction for a cause near and dear—Phoenix Children’s Hospital. That’s right. Sexy men. Romantic meals. All for the kids!”

Her voice purred, South Philly bite wrapped in Harvard silk, every word a jab. “Let’s play this out, Monroe—did you even mutter Miranda, or were you too busy tripping over your own feet? That warrant’s premise holds no water. Hammer’s statement? A post-coma burnout and whining from his hospital bed? I’d shred that in my sleep.” Torelli stepped into Monroe’s space, looming, his grin a shark’s flash; his cologne—sandalwood, rich—hit like a slap.

I look at the neat black hair between her legs , she gives me a seductive smile hooking her leg around my waist. " I need you so badly Azriel." she moans seductively in my ear. A growl erupts from my chest as I push her on the floor. " Don’t you dare ever touch me you filth." I growl glaring at her. Marica is a nymph who has power of beauty to wrap any men around her finger , she is the exact definition of beauty but from inside it's all dark and filthy. " Azriel." she yells standing up. " Cover yourself up Marica because your seducing spells dont work on me." I roll my eyes.