Obito Crushed Novelas e Histórias

I'm Melody Cameron and I'm every man’s worst nightmare, I say this because I’ve been called that by many men. I’m not only smart and educated, I’m a real beauty and no I’m not conceited, I have eyes and am confident in my own skin. At the age of 16, I was crushed beyond words, cried until I ran out of tears, then became angry at the world, until finally my best friend told me what had happened. I had been taken, by one of the most popular, eligible and attractive werewolves in her pack, “this is what he does and I’m sorry it happened to you Mel, you didn’t deserve that,” she said through her own tears as she hugged me. It was that day I realized one thing I would never fall for another man, he could own the world and promise it to me, and I’d still walk away from him. Yup, that’s me now, Miss Wrong, I will never be any man’s Miss Wright, never again. I’m strictly a one and done girl here, no seconds, no matter how many times you make me see God, it’s not happening. I became a nurse, yes, it's a glorious job and in a world with supernaturals it has it's challenges, like werewolves can heal themselves, witches have no need for human's period, etc.. So when the Alpha was in my ER room and I hit the code button, because all his monitors screamed to life the second, I walked in, I was fired. Getting the Alpha's attention, not good for a human and now I'm convinced he is set on ruining my life, because his ego is obviously bigger than his dick. I have jokes.

"You are.. hurting...me...Saheer... please...leave...me..." I cried while trying hard to get free from his jaw breaking grip..... "Why? Huh? Tell me fucking why were you hugging that bastard?!" He yelled while tightening his grip over my jaw... His eyes were pitch black.... just like a devil..... "He....he is....my.... friend...."I Said with difficulty... "YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE HAD ANY MALE FRIENDS ISABELL! I WARNED YOU BEFORE!" He shouted while throwing me on the floor.... Before I could do anything I was again grabbed by him and was pinned against a nearby wall... "WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND LOVE?? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! I TRUSTED YOU AND ALLOWED YOU TO COMPLETE YOUR STUDIES BEFORE OUR MARRIAGE! BUT YOU BROKE MY TRUST! WHY DID YOU?!!" he yelled... "I WILL NEVER MARRY A DEVIL LIKE YOU! YOU ARE A DEVIL!" Was all I could say... "YES I AM A DEVIL! AND I WILL SHOW YOU THAT! YOU WILL HAVE TO MARRY ME ISABELL! YOU WILL BE MY WIFE! YOU ARE MINE ISABELL! ONLY MINE!" He said and crushed his lips upon mine. Her soul was pure... His soul was tainted.... She was innocent.... He was anything but innocent... His soul was dark as the devil....He was thirsty for love.... He was craving for love..... And then he found her.... He found his angel and decided to make her his.... **** Isabell shifted to Chicago with her parents , she is a 17 year's old teenager... She is naive..she never had a boyfriend nor did she kissed anyone...She is a simple girl and leads a normal life until the day she met Mr Saheer Khan a mysterious Billionaire who claims to love her....Isabell never thought that she would be taken away by a man She knew nothing about. Her normal life was having nothing normal in it now....

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."

His hand slid beneath my dress, fingers curling around my thighs with a possessive grip. "I always knew that scumbag couldn't treat you right," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as his lips traced a slow path from my jaw to my neck. "Still can't figure out what you ever saw in him." I drew in a shaky breath as his hands moved higher, fingertips brushing the band of my panties, sending a jolt of heat through me. "Women like you are prizes, Sienna," he whispered against my lips, the words melting into my skin. My grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles white. "And prizes? They're meant to be fucking claimed. Owned." In the haze of intoxication, Alexander Grayson looked like the most beautiful thing on Earth—or perhaps he really was. "Can... can you make me forget about Ryatt?" I breathed, my voice trembling. A smirk tugged at his lips, dark and predatory, as his hand slid inside my panties, finding the heat of my wet, aching pussy. A soft moan escaped me, and I clung to him, every nerve alight."I'll make you forget about yourself, flower," with that he crushed his lips to mine. *** From the moment I met Alexander Grayson, I despised him with everything I had. But when with fate's cruel sense of humor he forced his way into my life, everything changed. He was everything I loathed—a womanizer, a violent monster, a spoiled heir with an ego larger than life itself. He should have meant nothing to me. Yet, I learned the truth the hard way: nothing about Alexander Grayson was ever simple. Alex dragged me into the hell he'd created, where he sat as the devil on the throne of darkness And the most terrifying part? I didn’t want to….escape.

"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?

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

In the eighth year of helping Keith Hunter pay off his debts, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I tested the waters and asked him, half joking, "If I got cancer, would you save me?" He laughed, saying I was overthinking it. Then he added firmly, "If it ever came to that, I would sell my blood to pay for your treatment." I lay awake all night, tossing and turning, still feeling like I couldn't drag him down with me. Before taking a sleeping pill, a notification popped up on my phone about a social media post. [How do I dump an older woman who paid off my debts for eight years without too much drama?] The profile picture looked eerily like Keith's silhouette from behind. He wrote, [Eight years ago, my family went bankrupt. She stuck with me, living off dry toast and squeezing into a rented apartment. She helped me pay back over 600 thousand dollars in debt. [Back then, I thought she was innocent and cute. Now, I feel like she's just a materialistic woman putting on an act. [Last month, she even asked whether I would save her if she got cancer. How does someone even ask that? [Obviously, she was trying to get money out of me. Good thing I didn't tell her that my family recovered three years ago. [Now, my family has arranged a fiancée for me. She's the daughter of a publicly listed company. [I want to cut things off with my girlfriend, but I'm afraid she'll cling to me. After all, she wasted a lot of her youth on me.] By the time I finished reading, I had crushed the stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand into a wrinkled mess.

A text message popped up in the class group chat. A student had been in a car accident and had been rushed to the hospital. She urgently needed a donor with a rare RH-Negative blood type. Wanting to help, I went to the hospital and donated 800 milliliters of blood. Afterward, I passed out from blood loss. When she woke up, she claimed she was pregnant and said the baby was mine. Everyone accused me of crossing a line despite being an educator and professor in college. They said I had slept with a student and got her pregnant. I went to confront her, but she acted like she was the victim. "Your blood is in my body now, and in the baby's body too. What's wrong with saying the baby is yours? From now on, my baby and I are depending on you. You'd better take good care of us and make sure we don't suffer, or I'll sue you for seducing me and dumping me!" Furious, I shoved her. She rammed her stomach into the corner of a table on purpose and miscarried. The internet decided I was a scumbag who had killed the baby on purpose. "How can someone like that exist? How can someone like that teach at all!" I lost my job. I was doxxed and harassed over the phone. Someone even threw acid on me and destroyed my face. I lost everything. My wife, who was eight months pregnant at the time, believed me and defended me, only for the internet to turn on her too. They accused her of helping a monster to hurt others. The stress caused her to have a serious hemorrhage, and she and the baby both did not make it. Crushed by guilt and grief, I jumped off a building and killed myself. That student, however, profited from my tragedy and became an influencer with a million followers overnight. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day I saw the message in the group chat.  

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

Travis Villaflor does not lose. In business, he conquers. In life, he dominates. With godlike beauty, ruthless intelligence, and power that bends men twice his size, he has built an empire where everything and everyone falls into place exactly as he commands. And he belongs to Cathyrine Reva. At least, that is the lie he has repeated for years. Because there was once a boy. Raine Montemayor. Fifteen years of age. Soft-eyed and devoted. Recklessly in love. A boy who trembled but still offered everything. His body, his heart, his soul. And the confession, it terrified him. So he crushed it. “I’m straight,” he said coldly. “I only see you as a brother.” And just like that, he destroyed the only person who had ever looked at him as if he were something more than a god. Raine left for Canada soon after. Travis thought distance would erase the memory. Well, it didn’t. Years later, Raine returns. But the boy Travis rejected is gone. The man who steps off the plane is controlled and polished. Sinfully beautiful. His smile no longer innocent, but knowing. His presence no longer pleading, but commanding. Raine no longer looks like he belongs to him. And that is unacceptable. He has a girlfriend, a reputation and a name built on control. Yet every time Raine turns away from him… every time someone else dares to touch him… Jealousy tastes like blood in his mouth. He wants to drag him close. Mark him. Remind him. “You think you’ve outgrown me?” Travis murmurs one night, voice low and dangerous. “You think you can come back here and pretend I don’t own every part of you? You're wrong baby. You're mine, only mine. Even your brothers can do nothing about it. I possess you.