Obito Crushed

“Five minutes,” Dominic said, his voice low and desperate. “That’s all you have to walk out of my life. Don’t pack a thing—I’ll give you everything you need. Just go… because if you don’t, I swear, I’ll never let you go. Ever.” I froze, my heart pounding. His words were harsh and final. But then I saw it, the way his hands slightly tremble, and the way his chest rose and fell too quickly. He’s shaking. He’s not just pushing me away. He’s terrified. Terrified of himself and of what he might do. A slow smile tugged at my lips as I placed my hand over his heart, feeling the hurried rhythm beneath my palm. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to go,” I whisper. “I want to be with you.” Something inside him snapped. Dominic grabbed me, crushed me against him in a desperate, almost broken embrace. His arms tightened like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, his breath shuddered as he buried his face in my neck. He clinged to me like I’m the only thing keeping him in the world. And I hold him just as tightly, because I’m not afraid. ****** When Sophie Carter caught her husband, Ethan Koleman sleeping with his secretary, she expected an explanation or even an apology, but instead, she was slammed with divorce papers and an eight year sentence in jail. What did she do? Ethan accused her of attempted murder. Four years in jail, an offer is presented to her by her husband’s biggest rival, Dominic Hayes. “Marry me and I’ll help you take revenge.” Of course, she takes it. But never did she expect to discover a shocking secret about Dominic that broke her.

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him

"Let me go," I snapped, even though my voice wasn’t as sharp as I wanted it to be. “No,” he growled, lips grazing the shell of my ear, his breath warm and wicked as his hand slid down, fingers pressing just above my thigh, and trailed all the way to my wet fold. “You want to hate this, don’t you?” he whispered, mouth trailing hot kisses along my neck as his hand shifted my underwear, “But your body’s begging, baby.” I gasped, lips parting, and before I could spit out a comeback, he crushed his mouth to mine. The kiss was rough, full of hunger, and I whimpered into his mouth before I could stop myself. My body pressed into his, desperate for more. But he suddenly pulled both his lips and hand back, “Say the word and I’ll stop.” I stared at him. My chest was rising and falling too fast. My lips were swollen. My thighs, God, I was throbbing. I want, I need. He pressed a knee between my legs and my and I mewed. Yes, me. I mewed like some needy, pathetic bitch in heat. For him. "That’s what I thought," he growled, and the next second he pinned both my wrists above my head and kissed me like he was trying to ruin me all over again. **** Liora once has a powerful name, a future paved in gold, until Tristan Cole walked in and tore everything apart. Now, years later, Liora is forced into a marriage contract with the very man who destroyed her life, all to save her dying brother. But Tristan wants something more dangerous. Her heart. Her body, all of her. Will love be her ultimate undoing? Or will she crawl out of wreckage and gain control?

"You let another man touch what belongs to me?" Lucian’s hand, a possessive vice, encircled her throat. "How dare you? You're mine. The next man who lays a finger on you will beg for death." Lyra’s bitter laugh filled the silence. "Since when do you care? Wasn't I your 'land whale'? Your 'disgusting she-hippopotamus'?" CRACK. His fist splintered the plaster beside her head. "I. FUCKING. CARED. You were always MINE." "I counted every breath you took in his arms," Lucian whispered, his lips grazing the scar he’d given her. "Now he'll count his as I carve them out." Lyra stood unyielding. "You discarded me like trash. He picked up the pieces." The mirror shattered as he hurled her against it. "I WAS SAVING YOU." From what? The forced marriage? The night she miscarried, utterly alone? Lucian’s "care" came too late. Lyra never wanted this marriage—a gilded cage to a billionaire who systematically broke her. But with her mother’s life hanging by a thread, she sold herself to the monster who devoured her soul. Lucian crushed her, made her beg for scraps of dignity. Then, his best friend offered everything Lucian withheld—gentle hands, tender words, a love that didn't wound. Lucian returned. Now, he's a shadow, everywhere: watching her with hungry eyes, touching her with possessive hands, swearing this time will be different. He pleaded, on his knees, for her heart. But Lyra knows better. She’s uncovered three explosive truths: Lucian's first wife wasn't just gone; she was murdered. Her sister didn't disappeared. And the most dangerous lie of all? She's been sleeping with it. Game over? Or game just beginning? As Lucian's obsession escalates and the past claws its way back, Lyra will choose between revenge, accept or reject.

I died... and then I died again. “Vale,” I moaned, my voice fractured. He met my gaze, his heart racing. “Yes, baby.” I whimpered softly, my breath hitching as his name escaped my lips once more. “V–Vale–!” “You want to make a mess in your pants again, don’t you?” He asked, locking his gaze with my watery eyes as he pulled my face down to meet his by my throat. “Such a naughty vampire, you were so messy and sticky all over your thighs just earlier, and now you want to do it again,” he murmured hoarsely, watching as I cried out in response. Where had all that macho boldness disappeared? He wondered. Just moments ago, I was ready to drive him insane with my teasing, and now I was a mess, a puddle melting away in his hands, completely at his mercy. The power dynamic shifted, and he reveled in my surrender, eager to push me further into this wild desire. **** Talon/Virgil faces an agonizing cycle of deaths. In his first life, his love was crushed, and he was murdered—only for fate to repeat its cruel game in his next existence. How many more deaths must he suffer before he can find the happiness he's been relentlessly pursuing? Just when Talon believes he’s finally found peace, fate spins him back into chaos, casting him into a void once again. This time, he awakens from a coma to discover he's inhabiting the body of a stepbrother he never knew existed until, of course, he awakened in his body—a married man with a family. As Talon grapples with his new reality, he must balance the façade of being a devoted stepbrother, husband, and father while yearning for the one true love that has haunted him through the ages.

"So many promises, so many dreams. They all broke today," his voice resonated. "Your promise of loving me till the last breath of your life, your dream of becoming my wife and giving birth to my children….they all are shattering today, princesa," tears rolled down from her eyes at his words which made him wrap his arm around her waist. "Ssh …. don't cry. Maybe not love but I do feel sympathy for your tears as I had been living with you for so many days," he uttered while wiping her tears with his knuckles. "Besides, I am not that heartless so let's ease up your heartbreak a bit. Okay?" He uttered. "So not in front of this world but I can please you like a husband pleases his wife behind closed doors and…." He thrusted his face closer to hers. "On my bed…. just like last night where you let me devour every inch of your skin, princesa," She teared up more because that was the truth. She had actually surrendered her everything to him last night. Her heart, her soul, her body…. everything to him with no shield last night. She gave him the virtue of her body but only to let him taint it with his sin which she was believing as his love. Feeling him wrapping his arm more firmly around her waist, she found him untying the knot of her night robe. "So, how about I make you forget about your heartbreak by taking you to my bed?" he rasped in her ear, completely untying her night robe and his next words crushed her soul cruelly. "As I am sure that would be the best way to cure the pain of a prostitute's daughter and her deceitful love,"

While working with the search and rescue team to save people trapped in an earthquake, an aftershock suddenly struck. Without hesitation, I pushed a hospital intern, Serena, out of the way. However, the force of the movement sent me to the ground, where a steel rod pierced my back, leaving me unable to move. When the aftershock ended, my husband, Derrick, came down with the others. Yet, instead of coming to me, he rushed to cradle Serena, who only had a few scrapes. Then he turned to glare at me. “What are you still sitting there for? Are you dead? Serena’s hurt, and you can’t even help her up?!” I was in so much pain I could barely speak, only able to force out a faint sound. “Honey, I… I’ve got a steel rod in my back… Please… help me.” Serena suddenly burst into tears in fear. “Mr. Nelson, I was so scared. Just now, Ms. Jones pushed me forward. If I hadn’t shifted direction, that huge rock would’ve crushed me!” Derrick, furious, shouted at me. “Gwen! You’re a doctor! What about your ethics? Your humanity?” Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “I didn’t. Please, just save me. I really can’t move…” One of the medical team members who came down with him checked my condition and looked worried. “Director Nelson, the steel rod seems to have pierced her spine. If we don’t treat her now, there’s a risk of paraplegia!” However, Derrick yanked him aside. “Save her? Let her walk herself! Gwen, we’re saving lives right now. If you want to act, I’ll put on a show with you when we get home! “Serena’s injured. Since there’s only one stretcher, we’re taking her up. You can walk up on your own.” His cold, departing back left me in utter despair.

When I was surrounded by the rogue pack far from our territory, I mind-linked my mate, Alpha Luke, begging for help. He refused me fifteen times—and finally, he blocked the link entirely. In the end, I collapsed from exhaustion and lost consciousness, my wolf howling in despair. When I woke up in the infirmary, Alex, the commander of the Werewolf Tribe, was sitting quietly beside me. He was the one who had received my desperate mind-link. He led his warriors, crushed the rogues, and saved me from the jaws of death. Looking into his worried eyes, I no longer hesitated. I took a deep breath and said with unwavering resolve: “Alex, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go to the Northern Territory for training. I leave in 2 days.” Ten minutes later, Luke barged into the room with Kristy—his so-called adoptive sister—and our twin pups trailing behind. Before anyone could speak, he kicked the door open and pointed at me, shouting with cold fury: “You staged this stunt just to outshine Kristy? Do you realize how much warrior strength you wasted just to feed your vanity? You are not worthy to be a Luna!” My elder son, Chris, gave me a sharp glance and scoffed: “Where’s the wound, Mom? You look perfectly fine. Did you fake this just to get attention?” My younger son, Collin, stared at me, eyes filled with disappointment. He shook his head slowly and whispered: “Mom, did you lie to us again… just because we care about Kristy more?” Kristy gripped Luke’s hand, her voice trembling with fake innocence and tears falling down her cheeks: “I’m sorry, Christina… I won’t celebrate my birthday again. Please… stop causing trouble for Luke and the twins.” I clenched my fists, restraining my furious wolf, and stopped Alex from standing up for me. I watched the four of them turn and leave without a second glance. Then, I turned to Alex and said, with icy clarity: “This time, I have no hesitation, no regret. I’m leaving. I’ll go with you to the Northern Territory. And I won’t eat my words.”