Scp-47 Novels & Stories

He broke down my door at 9:47 on a Tuesday to kill my husband. He wasn’t supposed to find me. I should have been afraid of the most wanted man in the state. Instead I asked him for something no woman had ever asked him for. Then I drove north. I thought I was free. Content Warning Domestic Violence, intimate partner abuse, violence, morally-grey anti hero, love interest, stalking, explicit sexual content

A prophecy when a alpha and witch together make a girl child and mate with the enemy alpha if he truly accept her is then the cursed will be lift. Curse is short life span of 47 years. When Alpha of Shadow night pack already reached 44 and his daughter turned 18, they don't have much time left. She ran to the enemy territory to for her father and fall in love with her mate. She have some powers which she can't control. Enemy Alpha Sioux is most dangerous and ruthless and already rejected 3 mates so far, how will she survive and how he will tamed her...

On her husband's birthday, Alena Kensington brought home a cake—only to find Tristan, her husband, in bed with Sienna, her best friend since high school. The betrayal was just the beginning. Tristan and Sienna didn't just steal her love—they planned her death. A hospital fire killed 47 people, and the world believed Alena perished in the flames. But fate had other plans. Six months later, Alena awakens in a secret clinic with a new face and a new identity: Serena Blackwood, the first wife of Kaevan Aldrich—a mysterious, brilliant, and dangerous CEO whose wife died three years ago. Kaevan offers a contract: live as Serena, help him destroy Tristan, and receive protection forever. But the deeper Alena digs, the more secrets surface. Who was Serena Blackwood really? Why did Kaevan give her his dead wife's face? And why is Kaevan's vendetta against Tristan so... personal? In a game of vengeance and love, who will win—and who will lose everything?

My husband, who's a negotiation expert, allows his intern to recklessly anger some criminals. It causes me, the hostage, to suffer severe injuries in the explosion, and my right leg breaks because of it. Yet, my husband once again issues a letter of forgiveness for her. "My wife, as a reporter, ignored warnings and forced contact with the criminals to get the scoop. The main responsibility lies with her. Kimberly, being a newcomer, should not bear major fault." I don't cry or make a scene. I simply pull out a divorce agreement. However, he sneers at me. "I know you're just jealous and want me to comfort you, but don't cross the line." For the past three years, I've brought up the topic of divorce 47 times, and each time, he treats it like I'm just throwing a tantrum. But it's different this time. His name has already been signed on this divorce agreement. As long as I add my signature to it, it will take effect immediately.

Aliyah Rhodes has three rules: 1. Don’t stop. 2. Don’t look. 3. Don’t get involved. She breaks all three when she finds Dominic Blackwood bleeding out in her alley at 11:47 PM. She saves his life. He pays her tuition. She says don’t follow. He buys her building. She says don’t touch. He kills the man who tries. Dominic Blackwood is a billionaire. A don. Wanted for triple homicide. He doesn’t make threats. He makes promises. _You’re safe. That’s the only rule that matters._ Aliyah’s broke, pissed, and done being owned by anyone. But $260K says she’s already his. And his aunt wants her dead. He won’t let her go. She won’t say thank you. Neither of them runs. *Owned by the Don* is a dark, open-door romance where debt is a weapon, “no” is a dare, and love looks a lot like surveillance.

"It is nice to see you again, my cheater, slut, gold-digger ex-wife." -Rome Wilson. Without saying a word, Faye Reagon left her husband, Rome Wilson, and replaced him with the old, wealthy guy, Benjamin Sorsuela. Her husband tried to search for her to come back, but he failed, only did he recognize that his wife had cheated on him which made his life turned to miserable. He became furious, swearing at her wife. When he eventually discovered himself, he developed successfully when he met his real parents, who gifted him to run the company they had founded 47 years ago, and able to complete the Business Management course. He became a billionaire but was also a womanizer, cold-hearted, and ruthless. They finally met five years later. Faye is one of the applicant chosen, unaware of what kind of job, but she has no idea that her ex-husband is her boss. His rage goes up and he moves up to make plans to punish his ex-wife, and make her pay for what she did, so he immediately hire Faye as his secretary and his maid, and that the beginning of his sweet revenge.

I signed my life away at 4:47 p.m… and called it love. Five years later, I’m standing in the ruins of that choice, divorced, betrayed, and nearly dead by the hands of the man I once fought the world to marry. My husband wants me gone. His mistress is carrying his child. And the empire my parents built? Stolen right from under me. But I’m not the broken woman they think I am. Because the night they tried to kill me… I didn’t call for help. I called him. Nikolai, my ex fiancé, my enemy, the man I once abandoned… and the only one powerful enough to burn my world to ashes or rebuild it from dust. Now he’s back. Dangerous. Calculated. Watching me like I already belong to him. He says he wants to help me reclaim everything I lost. My company. My name. My power. All I have to do… is marry him. Again. But nothing about Nikolai is simple. And the deeper I fall into his game, the more I realize. This isn’t just revenge anymore. It’s a war. And this time… I’m not the woman who walks away. I’m the one who strikes back.

For five years, Mira poured her obsession into The Reckoning of Caelen Mors—a dark fantasy about a ruthless duke and the woman he becomes dangerously fixated on. At 2:47 AM, exhausted and alone, she died at her laptop. Her final words still glowed on the screen: "Duke Caelen finally showed her his true face. It was nothing like she imagined." She woke as Isadora Vess—the secondary character from her manuscript—in a silk bed, in a monster's house, with servants calling her by a name she'd invented. The problem: Mira remembers writing this world. She knows every dark secret. She knows how the story should end. Except her memories are fractured. The manuscript was never finished. And the characters have evolved without her input, making choices she never wrote, saying things she never scripted. Worse—Duke Caelen knows she's different. He's been waiting for her. Across seventeen timelines, he's seen her arrive at this exact moment. And in three of them, everything burned. Now Isadora must navigate a world she created but no longer controls, surrounded by men who each want to use her—a charming prince offering escape, a dark count offering power, and a villain offering the only thing that might be true: the answer to why she's here, and what happens when an author gets trapped in her own story. Because in every version where Isadora arrives, the empire falls. And Caelen has been waiting a very long time to see which ending she'll choose this time.

⚠️ WARNING: Only for readers 18+ who like their stepbrothers FERAL and their stepfathers FILTHY. *** He bit me at a frat party I only attended to get over my ex. Three days later, he was sitting across from me at my mother's engagement dinner – and then standing at the foot of my bed unbuckling his belt at 1:47 AM. Knox Voss is a werewolf, a biker, and my new stepbrother. He marked my neck so every wolf in the city knows I'm his, and he fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else. It's working. But his father is worse. Dominic Voss is my professor, my stepfather, and a wolf who's hidden behind a suit for twenty years. He locks his office door on Thursdays, then takes me apart with a cruelty so precise it feels like worship. I'm human. They're not. I'm sleeping with both of them in the same house, down the hall from my mother – and a world I was never supposed to know about is closing in. A jealous she-wolf who feels every orgasm through a broken bond. An Alpha uncle who considers my existence a death sentence. And a law that says the punishment for a human knowing about wolves is execution. Knox claims my body. Dominic reads my soul. Both will burn this family down before they let me go. And I can't stop going back. Contains: werewolf shifters, stepbrother/stepfather, MC bikers, over-the-knee discipline, bite bonds, Level 2 shifts that make him BIGGER in every way, and a mother who never looks at the right moment. All characters are 18+. All scenarios are fiction. All orgasms are supernatural.

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.