Split Fiction Ao3 の小説・ストーリー

You think you've had a bad day? My name is Braddock Westfield, Billionaire Alpha (head werewolf) of the Crescent Moon pack I've searched for my fated mate for 22 years and finally conceded to the elders to choose a Luna to produce an heir. The night before our union my pack was attacked by rogues (werewolves with no pack, no morals, mostly criminals), we suffered no losses except my Gamma (Lead Warrior), who now we need to pick up 100 miles away in a small human town at a Diner. I receive a call as I pull into the parking lot, that my chosen mate has been kidnapped by rogues on her way to my pack. Pissed off, I enter the Diner, an intoxicating scent hits me and my wolf howls in my head "MATE" (22years of searching and on my Union Day, you find her). Two men crash threw the door inside the diner, yelling "Charlie get your ass out here now, we're not done with it yet." The old woman behind the counter grabs a shotgun and makes them leave. A waitress comes out bringing food and that intoxicating scent, my heart clenches when our eyes lock and our mate bond snaps tethering our hearts together, as I look at her broken nose, bruised face, split lip, swollen green glistening eyes. I need to get her to leave with us, promising to keep her safe, revealing I'm a psychiatrist with facilities, to help her rebuild her self-esteem and build her confidence to help her, move past her obvious trauma. Explaining she's a werewolf and I'm her fated mate and at least 20+ years older than her, that may be more challenging. Let's not forget, I now need to find my kidnapped chosen that I need to reject. All this before 9am.

Mature Audience Only "Beg me for it," he demanded, rubbing my wet slit. "Beg me to fuck you right here on the side of the road." I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand. "Please," I whimpered, the word barely a whisper. "Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me." He chuckled darkly. "Not good enough," he said, his fingers dipping inside me, teasing me with shallow thrusts. "Beg me like you mean it. Tell me how badly you want my cock splitting you open, making you scream." I was panting now, my body burning with need. "Please," I begged louder, arching my back to push my ass against him. "Please fuck me. I'm so empty, I need you to fill me up. I need your big, hard cock stretching me, making me yours." "Mmm, that's more like it," he praised, removing his fingers from my pussy. I whined at the loss, but then I felt the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Wet Desires is a seductive book of short stories that will leave you breathless, flushed, and craving more. Within these pages, fantasies come alive—each tale exploring the raw, unfiltered heat of passion in its most intimate forms. Sensual, daring, and unapologetically erotic, this collection is your invitation to indulge without restraint… because some desires are meant to be satisfied. This work is a collection of adult fiction intended for mature audiences 18 years and older only. It contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and depictions of dark, taboo, and morally questionable themes, including elements of dominance, submission, power exchange, and non-traditional relationships.

Married to Don Victor for three years, I thought I could finally forget the pain and betrayal of my ex-husband, Dominic. This cold, ruthless man ruled the East Coast underworld. But he handed me the world on a silver platter, healing my broken pieces. Until late one night. Victor's underboss called, frantic, begging me to rush to Manhattan's top private hospital. Victor and Dominic were in a standoff outside the maternity ward. Guns drawn, surrounded by their elite hitmen. They were inches away from sparking an all-out mob war. And standing between them was my ex-best friend, Chloe. She was visibly pregnant. The Commission's mediator slid a truce across the table. His expression was painfully awkward. "The security tapes are clear. The two Dons nearly blew up the entire floor just to decide who gets to stay in her room tonight." Numbly, I signed the papers as the Donna of the Costello family. Prenatal vitamins bought by Victor already piled high in the room. Meanwhile, his and Dominic's men were still arguing over the schedule—how the two Mafia Dons would split their week to keep Chloe company, three days each. When I walked up to the bed, the two lethal men who were just at each other's throats now stood guarding her on both sides. Victor shielded her belly. The same lips that used to kiss every inch of my body now spit out bone-chilling words: "I forced her. If you have a problem, take it up with me." My ex-husband, Dominic, glared at me viciously. "Keep your mad dog of a husband in check. Tell him to stop harassing my woman!" I slowly shook my head. Watching this farce, silent tears slid down my cheeks. A mobster's love... in the end, it's just a cheap lie. Victor, I don't want you anymore either.

“And what you tried today,” I winced in pain as he held my nape from behind before turning me around. I peered up at him in fear while he stared down at me with his intimidating eyes. His eyes were thundering. Leaning down further, he made my pulse rise. Being so close to him— a man, no less, I could see the clear spec of blackness inside his dark eyes. They were so raw and so dark and so piercing. “I would suggest you not try it again,” he added, his bottomless brooding eyes burned into mine, “because no matter how hard you are going to try, you are never going to get out of here without my permission. Away from my sight,” he vowed in a menacing tone that had no expression at all. “Don't get your hopes high.” Tears split down my eyes while he studied my face. “You like escaping. Don't you?” He explained to me in a condescending tone. “Let's see how you are going to try now with my eyes on you— all the time." “You can try all you want, but you can never break my spirits!” I looked at him, directly in his eyes without blinking. His eyes were still focussed on my face as he slowly stepped around me. “Do you mean it?” His voice was strangely soft, “Maybe I cannot. But.. ” Adding to his intimidating aura. Shaur. “No.. ” I whispered. “I can break him.” His gaze met mine in an instant. “You seem to have forgotten your own mental capacity of understanding certain situations. Let me refresh it for you.” His eyes seemed to burn holes at me. “I'd rather not get blood on your dress.” WARNING: This book contains strong language, dubious situations, deception issues, manipulations, abduction and dark romance.

My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest, my world shattered into a million and one pieces. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare, my eyes fixed on the unreasonable scene before me. “L...Lucia...” my father stuttered, his face flushed with embarrassment and guilt as he immediately lifted his underwear. “It’s not what it seems...” But I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear their excuses. “Lucia!” Beta Mario called out, his heart pounding heavily as he swallowed a heavy lump. “Mate?” I said and a pained chuckle escaped my lips. Goddess! How could you let this realisation come to me now— my cheating asshole boyfriend is— my mate. My lifelong wish had come to pass… I found my mate. And he happened to be my childhood lover, same guy who had been my boyfriend for two years. It should have been fun, this should have been a happy moment. But there was a painful twist. My dad and my mate were secret lovers, or would I rather say ‘fuck buddies’. What could be worse than this? I turned, ready to run off. My heart was already split and I knew that any more second there could make me even more furious, but there was still one thing I was yet to do. “One more thing...” “No, please Lucia... you can’t take decisions in haste. I swear I really like you...” “I Lucia Herod of Crescent land pack reject you Beta Mario of Crescent land pack.” I'm glad I rejected him— that cheating asshole. But then, the goddess wasn't done with her surprises. "I want you to become my wife!" The Lycan King said, causing everyone's jaw to drop.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

“No, please…. please don't hurt Eldric,” she begged him to not hurt her husband which made him grab a fist of her hair and pull her face closer to his. She yelped in pain. “So you really love your husband a lot to beg me for his life?” He glowered down at her. “You did give him that thing which I had always needed from you,” he seethed out. Her heart ached more terribly when she saw that searing pain flashing in his gaze for a split second before his viciousness took over him completely. “Fine, I will spare your dear husband’s life tonight if you would be able to stop me,” he uttered and cupped the back of her neck. She witnessed his rapacious gaze wandering all over her face and body hungrily before it stopped at her lips. “And I guess you already know how to stop me, Mrs Ariella Eldric Kohler….” he smirked wickedly at her mouth before trailing his predacious eyes back at her gaze. Turning completely vulnerable, she closed her glossy eyes and then pressed her lips against his, giving him what he had been demanding from her at the cost of her husband's life. Feeling the delicate warmth of her mouth against his, he plunged himself deeper inside her core once again, making her yelp in pain. “Moan my name, Ella…” he groaned, thrusting inside her harder. Tears rolled down from her eyes. “Aahh….K…Kieran….” her moan made him slam his mouth against her where he twisted her very being to become his salvation from her sin. Why was she letting this fatal man ruin not only her but her wedding vows too, who was surviving his life with the only purpose of destroying her? Read to find out…..

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.

During my third year as president of Kingsfield University, I heard that a student I had sponsored had earned the top score on the state exam. On the eve of the SAT, I went to the university's affiliated high school to personally deliver Kingsfield University's only guaranteed-admission spot to him. The moment I reached the door of the senior-year Honors Class, the school belle, who was surrounded by admirers, walked up to me carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red from crying. "You're the working-class girl who's been waiting for him outside the school gates every day lately, aren't you? He won't even look at the study notes I gave him, but he's willing to accept things from you. I'm starting to get jealous…" Before I could say a word, she suddenly grabbed my hand and violently tore apart the highly coveted recommendation form for Outstanding Graduate that she was holding. The document split cleanly in two. "H-How could you destroy my recommendation paperwork for Kingsfield University?" She dropped to the floor in the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was so loud that it drew teachers and students from the entire floor. "If you're worried that I'll get into the same university as him, then I'll give up my guaranteed admission. But how can someone like you, a girl who never even went to college, ruin my future?" The dean and the surrounding students quickly gathered around, pointing at me and looking at me with open contempt. I was flabbergasted. What did she just call me? A girl who never went to college? I was the youngest female president in Kingsfield University history! I was someone she wouldn't even dare look in the eye based on my achievements alone! When I was personally revising the nation's exam papers three years ago, this so-called recommendation form of hers hadn't even been printed yet. As I regarded this school belle, who continued playing the victim, I grabbed a thick test-prep book from the teacher's podium and slammed it right into her face. "A fool who can't even solve a parabola thinks she's worthy of a recommendation from Kingsfield University? If you dare smear my name again, I won't just ruin your future. I promise you I'll remove the principal from his job, too."

My roommate, Keith Kavanaugh, calls himself the "Holy Son of Frost". On the very first day we meet, he insists that the air conditioner in our dorm room must stay on until October, and the temperature can never go above 50°F. He claims, "A mystic says I'm the Holy Son of Frost, so I have a rare physique. I can only live in cool environments of 50°F at most." He even starts live-streaming, and his "special condition" instantly attracts a huge following. Meanwhile, I'm sitting right in front of the AC vent, so I'm shivering all over from the cold. I quickly turn the temperature up, but he immediately turns it back down and even locks the remote in his cabinet. "We're all educated college students here. Why are you so selfish?" he questions. Faced with his unreasonable accusation, I hold back my anger and try to reason with him. "We're in the north region. The weather here is cool enough in September. There's no need to set the AC this low. But if you insist, I can switch spots with you…" Keith cuts me off impatiently, "Are you crazy? Who sleeps right in front of the AC vent? What if I get sick from it? No one else has a problem. Why are you the only one making a fuss? Let me warn you—I'll melt from the heat. If you make me uncomfortable during my stay, I'll have you kicked out!" I realize there's no reasoning with him, so I plan to contact the dorm counselor to switch rooms. But Keith beats me to it! He goes to her first, records a video, and even posts it online. He accuses me, a local student, of being selfish and bullying him, someone who is from out of town. Just then, a new post suddenly appears on the campus forum. The poster writes, "My roommates are too wasteful. One guy washes his hair every day, and he even uses running water. He even takes a shower after every training session! Meanwhile, I can wash my whole body with just one damp towel. "And the worst part of this is that they want to kick me out after I made an itemized bill to split expenses. These cheapskates are always taking advantage of me. I'm looking for a high-quality dorm to take me in." My eyes light up instantly. He's the one!