Scutter Novels & Stories

Chapter 2 ( Two Days later) " Oh... Yeah... Oh God..." Scarlett moaned as Gerald thrust in and out of her at an incredible pace. Her eyes clamped shut and sweat dripping from her forehead, it was obvious she was enjoying it. Way too much. " Oh God... I'm coming... I'm cumm..." she didn't get to finish her sentence as she groaned aloud, her body spasming, jerking uncontrollably. Gerald continued for a few more moments and pulled out just in time to have his release on the bed. Scarlett lay slumped on the bed, unduly satisfied. Staring at Gerald with lazy eyes, her face broke in to a grin.

I roll my eyes inwardly. If only she knew I had no interest in being his mate or luna. "Enjoying the show?" I hear her whisper into Hunter's ear, making my wolf growl possessively as she glares daggers at the slu-- I mean, Scarlet through my eyes. "What do you think you're doing, Scar?" He growls under his breath, making me cock my eyebrows in confusion at the tone he's using to his sweet little "girlfriend". 'Oh look, our so-called mate even got her her own little nickname,' I tease Moonlight, and she scoffs, expressing how she wants to get her paws on Scarlet once I let her onto the surface.

“She does indeed!” Kate knew what Deidre was doing. As the Scuttlers hailed from South London, miles from the Reapers’ East London home, Deidre’s taunting wasn’t about territory but with establishing bull goose rights. While not the most dominant North London gang, the Reapers were certainly well-known for the violence of their attacks, often employing railway spikes tied to chains instead of belts in their skirmishes. Even now said spikes dangled from chains as the Reapers strode ahead of the Scuttlers. So far, Midge was showing surprising restraint. “You got eyes for my Tom?” Mags poked Midge in the back.

a sympathetic brother uttered. The men were near the burnt palace premises now, following Jonah behind. There was the sound of someone coming through a partially charred door. It was kept ajar. A young man strode out from it. He stood a few yards away from the men. He was difficult to identify; for his face was partly covered in blood. When he came close, the men cringed in fright, for he wore a skirt of bearskin like theirs. From his belly to his head was bare save for the blood that covered his face, and he had in his right hand, a glittering sword, which he held upward, keeping its sharpest tip above his head. With his left hand, he held a man’s head which had been cut off from the body.

If words were exchanged, Ru couldn’t hear them, and she watched as Cutter raised his hands and sent streaks of blue into the air, aimed at Nat’s face. Raising his scythe, Nat reflected the light, sending it harmlessly into the tops of the trees. Cutter recoiled and tried again, shooting short bursts this time. Nat reflected each of them, moving his scythe from one target to the next, blocking the bolt aimed for his shoulder, then his knee and his opposite side. Twirling his scythe in front of him, he swung it at Cutter, who jumped out of the way just in time. Ru watched, fascinated, as Cutter used his light to form an equally long weapon, this one a glowing blue, and the two locked in arms a

I will see you tomorrow okay. [some loud, high pitch screaming, shrieking voices were coming from the backgrounds] Jerika: What’s that? Is someone’s… puppy dying? Martin: No… it’s a g… girl Jerika: Why is she making such voices? Martin: Apparently she is crying Jerika: Why is she crying? Is she in pain? You know what you should help her Martin: I really can’t Jerika: Why? Martin: Well because I am making her cry Jerika: Why would you do that?

The scar is a container and a protective space where the memory can be stored and endured privately. The causes of scars remain in storage in the body and the mind, and sometimes can shape actions for a person’s entire life. That's what Beneath The Scars is going to talk about . It's going to talk about how to never give up without a fight. W A R N I N G The book contains scenes of self-harm, mentions of abuse and suicide, themes of grief and depression, and sexual content towards the first half of the book . Readers are requested to proceed with caution. Please skip if you see any scene that you may find triggering.

My breath caught,fogging the windshield in a jagged half moon as my trembling fingers inched upward, gripping the rearview mirror and tilting it down just enough to catch the dark, wet stretch of road behind me. Just the empty street curving away beneath the pale yellow glare of the overhead sodium lights, flanked by towering brick facades and the dripping shadows of the park. My chest rose and fell rapidly,each breath strained by the surge of adrenaline. I exhaled a shaky breath, a pathetic attempt to steady the static roaring in my ears. A prank. It has to be so a twisted prank “i said softly” A random spam number or a cruel neighbor playing off the mist and the late hour.

Alexis messaged, "@Everyone, did anyone get a scare from Mrs. Scoll visiting today? Hahaha!" Someone named Watson from the technical department replied, "Alex, you sure are amazing! That photo is practically the best charm to ward off bad luck. I even wrote two less bugs in my code earlier!" Zander from operations sent, "Mrs. Scoll's expression is just too cursed! Can we use it for some merchandise? Maybe put them by the company entrance to attract fortune our way?"

Eyes glowing a bruised gold. Claws scrape sparks from the bitumen as it screams in two voices—one shrill, one buried in gravel. “Faith, get to the car!” Scott barks. Faith sprints for the 1980’s back to the Future tribute Hilux. The creature pivots midair, tracking motion with the simple intelligence of a hunting thing—smart enough to pick a target, dumb enough to do it in front of him. “Ah!” it hissed. Scott’s boots slide on the wet road as he hauls open the tray and closes his hand around the old aluminium bat. No tricks. No symbols. Just leverage and timing.