Naruto With Metal Arm Fanfiction Novels & Stories

 “ I Landon Arlen, Alpha to Moon Shadow Pack, reject you, Jessica Lyon, as my mate”.  Jessica could feel her heart being shredded into tiny pieces, she tilted her head forward hoping to surge the tears from flowing down her eyes.  :She could feel the mate bond untangle, what felt like a feeling of bliss, drawn to him when he was far away was gone, replaced with a sad feeling of yearning that she could never get again.  “ I Jessica Lyon, daughter to the beta of Moon Shadow pack accept your rejection”.  She forced out the words out of her mouth, her lips pursed into a thin line hoping to feel some relief.  She felt nothing other than the tragedy, her heart filled with the burden of living without Landon for the rest of her life, because he was her entire world for Five years and as she watched him clutched in another woman's arm, Jessica could feel her heart shattered into a million pieces.

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

His lips brushed my palm and every time his hot breath hit my skin, it set my nerves on fire. “What the—” I whispered, breathless. And then, with deliberate slowness, Sevastian slipped my ring finger into his mouth. My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering against my chest. His teeth scraped my skin before sinking into the flesh, just enough to make me twitch from the sharp pain. I gasped, both from the sting and the bite I got from him. My entire body tensed as he bit down harder, marking me not with ink or metal, but with flesh and teeth. When he finally released my hand, my skin throbbed, the faint mark of his bite was visible against my finger. I cradled my hand, staring in disbelief at the mark he left behind. “This,” Sevastian murmured, his voice low and sharp. “Is my mark and ring.” His tone carried an edge, dangerous yet confident, as if the words were meant to bind me. “The symbol that you are no longer Celestina Valeztina-Savelli.” His lips ghosted over my skin, and my chest tightened as he whispered the next words. “...but Celestina Valeztina-Ortega.” His next words were a soft snarl, dripping with ruthless certainty. “My property, my wife.” He added, while locking his gaze on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of remorse, only that same ruthless determination that chilled me to my core. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn’t let go. "You’re insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling despite my best efforts not to show it. “Yes, I’m insane,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, “And I can drive you crazy…” He paused, letting the tension hang in the air.

He kissed her over and over again, and she responded: she said yes. All female heat and need; so soft and curved against his muscle and hard planes. King kissed her like he owned her and she ached to just let him take her. Any way he wanted; as many times as she could take him. King shifted her again, held almost her whole weight on one massive forearm, freeing his other hand to move over her now. His fingers tightened on her cheek as he kissed her, the metal of his rings cool against her flushed skin, then he moved his hand down her body. She arched when he caressed her throat and stroked down slowly. **** Naomi Abbott had it all once: talent, success, momentum. Now she runs a nonprofit art program for autistic adults and counts her days sober instead of her sales. She’s smart, beautiful, and barely holding herself together. One year into recovery, Naomi knows the rules: no chaos, no temptation, and absolutely no romance. Especially not with him. Matt “King” Kingston is danger wrapped in muscle, a scowling ex-Marine with a garage, a shadowy side hustle, and a laser-focused obsession with Naomi. He wants her. All of her. And he’s never been good at walking away. But the closer he gets, the harder she resists... because letting King in means risking everything she’s fought to rebuild. As trust grows and walls crack, King becomes Naomi’s anchor. Until she spirals. When the past comes roaring back, Naomi must decide if she’s strong enough to survive it... and if King’s love can endure the wreckage.

After the young officer Edward Shaw took first place in a high-profile shooting exhibition attended by senior officials, his family adopted a rather peculiar tradition. At the annual family banquet, he would perform a blindfolded shooting. Whichever woman's token his bullet struck was taken as a sign that she would become his fiancée. Determined to marry him, I placed the handkerchief I had carefully chosen as close to him as possible. Yet, for three consecutive years, his shots hit nothing at all. I told myself the handkerchief must have been too light, too easy to miss. So each year, I replaced it with something more refined, more eye-catching than before. That illusion lasted until the night before my eighteenth birthday, when I happened to overhear him speaking with a friend at a reception. "Miss Jasmine's handkerchief is right in front. Even blindfolded, you should be able to hit it. How do you keep missing every year?" Edward swirled his glass, his tone casual. "Tracy's still young. The moment she hears I'm getting engaged, she starts crying. "I promised I'd wait until she's a little older. As for Jasmine, she's waited for me all these years. It's not like she's going anywhere." With that, he casually tossed his glass into a metal bucket in the corner. It rang out with a sharp, hollow clang. I lowered my gaze and thought of my younger sister, only a year younger than me. So it had never been about the token. It was about the person who placed it there. In that case, there was no reason for me to keep holding on. After all, my father had already arranged a marriage for me. Three days later, at that same family banquet, I would be formally engaged.

How quickly everything ended by just a single day, I was just like any other girl in the world- laughing and hanging out with friends, taking endless selfies, having crushes on bad boys and nerds included. I never thought or cared about how I look. It was just mine. Normal and Easy. But everything changed in one single moment- a moment filled with fire, screaming metal, and a blur of terror that rewrote my life. I survived. Everybody says I'm lucky but this, this doesn't feel like survival it feels like a punishment, a curse. A curse that am willing to carry all my life. The accident left me with permanent facial disfigurement, and ever since, I've been stuck behind a mask I never asked to wear. My face is the first thing anyone sees, and sometimes, it feels like the only thing they see. I avoid mirrors now. I no longer go out; I can't risk being stared at. Friends faded. Invitations stopped. Of course they would stop, who would want to invite the hideous me. I would scare everyone, worse, ruin their appetite. They would move away from their tables. What did I expect? Life moved on for everyone but me. My mom is the only person in my life right now, shes' become my anchor. Even with her love, it's still hard to silence the voices in my head, the ones saying I'm hideous, broken, unworthy. I miss my old smile. I still haven't done anything in life. And this isn't about my appearance it's about my self- esteem, my confidence, my ability to feel like I belong anywhere. This is a constant battle with the mirror, with the world, and with yourself. And most days, I'm trying to find the strength to look up to.

As I walked through the dimly lit hallway, my heart was still racing, my breath uneven from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me in the last few hours. Then, my eyes flickered up, catching sight of the metal plaque bolted to the doorpost "Wing 1." A cold chill ran down my spine. My body went rigid as Otto’s letter flashed vividly in my mind, the words echoing as if he said it directly to my face "Room 316. Wing 2." No. No. No. No. Oh, God. A sickening wave of realization crashed over me, leaving me breathless. The man in the grey suit… He had smiled, nodded, and gestured me down this hallway. So confident. So sure. And like a fool, I had followed. I had made a mistake. A colossal, irreversible mistake. My stomach twisted violently as the truth settled in, thick and suffocating. I had entered the wrong wing. The wrong room. The wrong bed. I had given myself to a stranger. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world tilted, my vision blurred. What had I done? How far is too far? In this encapsulating masterpiesce, Sucre is down for whatever gets him closer to taking revenge on Otto - his twin brother's killer. But, would he really do all that is necessary? Would he chose his ambition over that of Luca the cartel’s underboss and his lover? Can he stop the knife and gun violence on campus and win the five million dollars prize money? Dive into a story of love, betrayal, romance and suspense. The Cartel’s Forbidden Love is a gripping and intriguing read that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

My boyfriend refuses to accompany me to the airport to pick my mother up, but he later rams into my car from behind in my new Maybach. He looks at my secondhand car and wraps an arm around the young woman beside him, who looks frightened. He says, "It's just a rusty old Volkswagen Beetle! So what if I've crashed into it? I can afford to pay for the damages!" The crowd praises him for being handsome and rich. With his back to them, he warns, "This is the woman my mom wants me to date. I'm just playing along for her sake. Don't make things embarrassing for me." I nod understandingly and tell the young woman, "Since you like collecting trash so much, you can have both him and the car. I'll have my lawyer send you the bill." Now, my boyfriend panics. He looks devastated as he hangs around outside my company all day, begging me to give him another chance.

“Stop the wedding,” Revan’s voice boomed across the garden. It was loud and clear that it made everyone freeze. Citrine smiled and slowly let go of Gael’s arm, perplexing every guest. “Citrine, babe, w-what are you doing?” he stuttered. He was about to grab her hand when the sex video of him and Citrine’s half-sister began to play. Embarrassed by his cheating ass, he quickly left the venue along with Trisha. “Now, sorry about that father; can we continue the ceremony?” Citrine asks politely as if nothing has happened. “But the groo—” “I am here,” Revan said as he approached Citrine. *** Citrine Lustrio is the illegitimate daughter of a business tycoon; she grew up being mistreated and neglected by her family, and to make matters worse, she discovered her fiancé cheating on her with her half-sister. Determined to break free from her messed-up life and exact revenge, she struck a deal with Revan, the CEO of Soldevilla Group—the man who had betrayed and broken her heart six years ago.

My husband doesn't love me or our daughter. It's been six years since she was born, but he's never held her. The doctors say he has an emotional disorder, and that he doesn't know how to express the way he feels. But when his true love returns, he smiles at us for the first time. He even brings our daughter a gift. I think it's because he's finally seen sense… until she and I see the photo he uses as his phone's wallpaper. In it, his eyes are crinkled as he smiles. He has one arm around a little girl whose front tooth is missing, and he holds his true love's hand with the other. My daughter tugs on my hand, and her eyes redden. "Mommy, do you think we should leave? Should we give Daddy three final chances? Let's leave him if he still doesn't want us after that."