Caption Story Novels & Stories

After I studied and lived in Descensio for five years, I finally graduated and was ready to return to my home country to take over my dad's company. When I arrived at the Sullivan Group building, I took a picture and posted it on my Instagram story with the caption. 'Since you're the man I love most, I'm here to see you immediately after graduation.' Yet, a woman appeared out of nowhere and slapped me as soon as I arrived at the company's lobby. "It's her! She's the hussy! She had seduced my husband back in high school. Now that my husband has become the director, she shamelessly showed up here to flirt with him. So, I want you girls to beat her up. I'll take the blame if anything happens." While the woman was cooking up a story about me seducing Marcus Lane, a director of Sullivan Group, others around simply looked on coldly and judged me. She slashed my limited-edition bag to pieces and smashed the expensive seal I wanted to give my dad. "You're just a gold digger wearing and buying fake luxury goods. It's just a few hundred dollars. I can still afford to pay you." However, little did she know that everything I had was real. Even if she and her director husband worked for the rest of their lives, they would never be able to afford to pay for the damages.

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

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.

After I've completed 98 tasks for my fiancee, Cheryl Landeau, she finally agrees to marry me once I've completed the 99th task for her. For that task, I'm required to pick her up outside her company. On the day I stand outside Cheryl's company with a huge flower bouquet in my arms, I don't see her at all despite having waited till late night. Soon after, I get hospitalized due to a high fever. When I tap on my phone, the first thing I see is a photo of the marriage certificate belonging to Cheryl and her assistant, Jason York. Jason even includes a caption with the photo. "My mom is very satisfied with her daughter-in-law. Please take good care of me from now on, my dear wife." The next day, I hang a banner outside the company. "May Ms. Landeau and Mr. York grow old in harmony and be blessed with children." All of my colleagues are stunned, to say the least. At that moment, Cheryl quickly pulls me into her office. She then explains, "Jason's mom is severely ill. Her death wish is watch him get married. What's wrong with me fulfilling her wish? Can't you show more kindness toward Jason? "Now, stop throwing that tantrum of yours and get rid of the banner. Once Jason's mom passes away, I'll file for a divorce from him." I just smile as I set off more fireworks at the doorway. "Oh, you don't have to bother with a divorce. I'm worried that his mom might come back to life soon. Let's just end things here."

Betrayed by the man she loved, Serena Collins must also find a way to pay for her mother's medical treatment. Just when she is on the verge of giving up, fate leads her to Steave Alexander, a powerful CEO who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend's uncle. What begins as a simple agreement soon turns into a relationship filled with temptation, secrets, and feelings neither of them can ignore. Could her true love be the very man she should never have fallen for?

When Tessa Averton is diagnosed with a terminal illness, she believes her final days will be spent beside her devoted and charming husband, the man who once told her she was the only thing in his life that made sense. She never expected her remaining days to be spent uncovering the cold betrayal of her husband, including his affair with the woman living under their roof—the same woman he had introduced as his cousin. But death is not the end for Tessa. She wakes up three years in the past, handed a second chance to rewrite fate—and more importantly, to take revenge on the man who betrayed her. Her husband. Convinced the perfect revenge is stealing her husband’s side chick’s dangerously attractive billionaire father, Tessa dives into a game of push and pull with her ex-husband. She thought it'd just be a one time thing and then, she moves on. Only she never expected one thing: Julian, her ex-husband was never supposed to become so obsessed with her. He is just supposed to get jealous once and forgot her existence like he always did in her past life. And now, no matter how many times Tessa tries to run, Julian only chases harder—more desperate, more possessive, and far too unwilling to let her go.

This is raw, no-limits reverse harem erotica. Expect graphic multi-man scenes, rough claiming, breeding, public indulgence, total power exchange, and women who eagerly surrender to overwhelming pleasure. One woman. Multiple ruthless, devoted men who refuse to choose. Strictly 18+. One woman. Multiple ruthless men who refuse to share her with the world, but will always share her with each other. After a blindfolded night with one of her brother's four roommates, 21-year-old Lila sets out to identify the man who gave her the best orgasm and the only way is to sneak into their rooms and have sex with them. To inherit her billion-dollar trust fund, Bianca is forced to spend one month as the shared sexual companion to her three entitled older cousins. Undercover journalist Sadie infiltrates a college hockey team as a puck bunny to expose their gang but ends up in intense, furious sexual entanglements with the captain, enforcer, and rookie. From forbidden stepfamily estates and mafia penthouses to omegaverse knots and high-society auctions, these heroines don’t just get taken, they beg for more. Billionaires, alphas, stepbrothers, demons, and powerful enemies collide in tales of dark passion, obsessive proximity, and shameless corruption. Steamy, dark, and dangerously addictive, Shared & Ruined is pure filth for readers who crave women willingly overwhelmed by devoted, insatiable men. No limits. No jealousy. Only dripping, obsessive pleasure.

After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a photo of a property deed in his social media circle with the caption, [Thank you, Miss CEO, for transferring the house to me.] I was stunned when I saw the address on the deed—it was my home. Confused, I left a comment. [?] Almost immediately, my wife, Alice, called and scolded me. "He’s a single dad, so pitiful! I only transferred the house to his name to make it easier for his daughter to attend school. It doesn’t affect us living there. How can you be so heartless and lack even a shred of compassion?" In the background, I could hear her childhood friend complaining bitterly. Half an hour later, he posted on social media again and tagged me. This time, he showed off a $150,000 sports car with the caption, [Paid in full! As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money is where her heart lies.] I knew it was my wife who bought him the car to make up for upsetting him. But this time, I’ve made up my mind—I’m filing for divorce.

My best friend said she was just protecting me from bad men. So every time I started dating someone new, she would turn herself into his dream girl. She'd flirt, chase him, and seduce him until she ended up in his bed. And every time, she'd send me the photos. Always with the same cheerful caption: "Bestie! If I hadn't tested him, you'd be heartbroken again. Aren't I good to you?" I was tortured, broken, humiliated. Eventually, I cut her off completely and moved to another city. Then I met the man I thought was my true love—Liam. He was kind, devoted, and loving. I thought I could finally be happy. On my wedding day, I found Madison standing in my dressing room, disguised as my makeup artist. She smiled at me, just like she used to. "Don't worry, bestie," she whispered. "Let me test this one for you. Then you can marry him." She drugged me, then put on my wedding gown and got into bed with Liam. But I woke up in time. I burst into the room with our families. I caught them together. Later, I got pregnant. During labor, I hemorrhaged. Liam watched me bleed and refused to sign the emergency consent form. "Madison just wanted to give herself to me before our wedding—to fulfill her wish," he said coldly. "You humiliated her. You drove her to suicide. She died carrying my child." "You and the bastard in your belly deserve to die too." That was when I realized—the man I loved had already fallen for my best friend. I died in agony. My ashes were thrown into a ditch. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. On my wedding day. And Madison was standing right in front of me, pretending to be my makeup artist.

I went abroad for a year to further my studies and kept in touch with my girlfriend through video calls every day. One day, I saw her first love posted a photo with a caption: [We are finally back together after ten years!] In the photo, my girlfriend was visibly pregnant, holding the arm of the man next to her with a sweet smile.