Godzilla Stroke Meme Novels & Stories

I was Rebecca, mate to Gavin Clarke, Alpha of the Ironpelt Pack—the strongest among the northern werewolf packs. Gavin was a once-in-a-century business genius, his trade networks expanding across a dozen northern packs, making his pack a successful business empire. He'd claimed me for four years. We stood together, awaiting our bonding ceremony... until his childhood sweetheart Vivian returned. The moment I saw them reunite, the truth shattered me: What I'd believed was love had only ever been my own delusion. His eyes held only her. I'd just been... convenient. At least he'd never marked me. No mate bond, just cold paperwork from the Pack Council. That made things simpler. So I crafted my revenge—disguised the Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement as a routine university permission slip. When his pen touched that paper, our bond dissolved in the stroke of an inkwell. He never realized what he'd truly lost that day: Not just a mate. But the future heir to the Ironpelt legacy. Now he hunts me across continents. Is it love? Or the pup? Or just an alpha's pride, burning because I made him dissolve the mate bond without even realizing he'd been outplayed?

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

“Show me,” he said, voice low and rough, “how good you're willing to serve me.” I should’ve spat in his face. Except, I nodded…because outside that tent, his men waited. The ones who’d tear me apart piece by piece if I said no. The ones I’d be handed to. I slid my palm between my thighs, breath hitching at my own touch, just a warning stroke and to stay alive. But when I brushed again, deeper this time, I gasped. “Keep going,” Malrik said, leaning back, watching like I was the most fascinating sin he’d ever seen. So I did. With shame thick in my throat and my heart pounding against cracked ribs. I did it for my sister, for survival, for him. *** Kaelith thought being rejected by her mate was the worst thing that could happen but she was wrong. Sold to a rogue warlord as leverage, branded like cattle, and forced into a savage camp where women are broken for sport and pleasure, Kaelith expects to die or worse. But she ends up in the mercy of Malrik Dren, the warlord himself. What happens when a broken girl becomes a weapon, and the monster meant to break her starts to fall?

When news of my arranged fiancee's death arrived, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I quickly reclaimed her shares and had the death certificate issued. I did it because I've been reborn. In my past life, Dad was worried that women would eye my fortune as the heir to the wealthiest family. So, he arranged for me to marry one of three women he personally picked. I chose the most outstanding one, Monica Harris, and married her. However, just three days after our wedding, she died suddenly. Heartbroken, I was persuaded by the remaining two women to give up on marriage and remain single for life. At 80 years old, when I returned to our special place in Sunmere Valley to reminisce, I saw Monica. She should have been dead for 60 years! She stood beside Liam Rogers, my driver who'd gone missing decades ago, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, living a picture-perfect life. I realized I'd been deceived my entire life. The shock sent my blood pressure soaring, and I died of a stroke on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day I died. This time, I'm going to find out exactly how someone who's supposedly dead keeps on living.

WARNING: 95% Sex Content/1 She-Wolf Vs 5 Alphas Three years ago, my father betrayed my mother, shattering our lives and forcing us into exile. Now, at seventeen, everything is about to change. My mother has found a second chance—with none other than the famous Alpha Thomas Blackthorn of the powerful Blackridge Pack. She's ready to start over, and I have no choice but to follow her into this new world ruled by dominance, secrets, and desire. *** "I Promise," his voice scraped raw, "I won't fuck you. Not until your wolf wakes." His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, hooking under the lace of my panties. "But you'll help me before that." His body pinned me down, muscles taut, skin scorching. His knee wedged between them, forcing me open. Then his grip tightened, yanking my legs shut again— His cock, flushed and massive, pistoned through the tight clasp of my legs. The swollen head peeked out with every stroke, glistening, filthy. I snapped my eyes shut, but that only heightened everything else— The heat of him. The wet slap of skin. The way my body betrayed me, slick gathering where I shouldn't be wet, a traitorous throb building— Shame. Shame. Shame.

“I'm not just the vampire king of tales, Ellie. I'm a talented artist.” Vanchure said with every stroke he made on the canvas with his paintbrush. “So you can either be the one posing on my couch, behind the canvas, or be the one whose blood I will use in replacement for paints.” In a mystical world named Shirlon, there was a division of two powerful mythical creatures, two great kingdoms, with two great rulers. Speaking of which were the Black Pack, the werewolves, and the Thorx Coven, the vampire with the respect of law and order. These two kingdoms had a ball of symbiosis where they worked hand in hand to maintain their stable world. The werewolves were considered as the soldiers, the ones left to do the tough and dirty jobs within both kingdoms. While the soldiers had the day and night to themselves, the vampire blossomed in the dark. The vampires were also known as Royalties. They've been known to have ancient riches, making them superior to the soldiers. In these two kingdoms, they had their kings. Eamonn, Alpha of Black Pack, and Vanchure, king of Thorx Coven. They had maintained the order of peace and had always set their boundaries between each other until Ellie came along. Ellie was born of the soldiers, just a commoner that the Alpha of her Pack proclaimed as a mate. Ellie was set on a path to rescue her missing sister from the hands of the vampire king, Vanchure. But on her first encounter with that handsome devil, her whole life takes a different turn.

"Ow," she exclaims when the first stroke of my belt slashes across her bare ass, whimpering with her eyes closed. I set the belt down and rubbed the rapidly reddening spot with my left palm, enjoying the way she moans in pleasure. "You like it, don't you?" I tease. "Yes. Yes...Seb..." I take the belt and whip her again. And again and again. Each time, her moans rising higher, her body jerking violently, turning me on. Through my peripheral vision, I could see her father standing by the door, his jaw on the floor. "No...no, no..." I hear him wail. This is just the beginning. I intend to fuck her cute, little pussy next. While he's still watching. - She was promised to him for one night only. To lay off a debt. But Sebastian Sturm wanted her forever. Carmen Gracia is given to ruthless Mafia Don Sebastian Sturm for a one-night only exclusive by her domineering father to lay off his debt. But when he father fails to keep to his end of the bargain, she's in trouble. Sebastian plans to show her what it means to belong to him, and if he must spank her silly to achieve that, he will. This is a dark romance + BDSM read. If such themes offends you deeply, please try out another book.

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥ "Life is neither short nor long, it's now - that we know as life - it's twisted and cruel I'm its own way with trials coming up with every turn you make. No one knows how many seconds one will live let alone years. You never know" ◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢ His breath got stuck in his throat as he held the pen above the paper, his eyes searching the room in hopes of having at least a glance of her face. "Answer the maulvi" his father spoke. "Son" his mother pestered from his side. His eyes landed on Hiba's expectant ones. She looked from across the veil questioning his delay. He shook his head as he placed the tip of the pen on the paper, a single stroke formed on the paper but that very moment a frantic Ayan ran in the room. "Turn on the tv right now" he yelled making Hamza to oblige right away. "There had been an accident on the motorway car LEB-780 has been hit by a troller on its way out of the city, the hit has caused an explosion rendering the passengers severely injured and in critical condition-" "That's- that's the car maula bakhsh took to drop—" His ears numbed as the pen dropped on the floor, his heart stopped, his eyes stuck on the TV screen. "Bhai!" He ran out of the house and got in his car, the engine roared and soon he was on the road. ─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

They swore to destroy each other. Then he whispered: "A deal is a deal. Tonight, you belong to me." Hockey captains Damian Volkov and Sebastian Montgomery have been locked in a brutal three‑year rivalry. On the ice, they try to break each other. Off the ice, they trade threats in darkened hallways. But when Sebastian finally wins the championship with a bone‑crushing hit, he collects a secret debt Damian doesn't remember making. That night, in the shadows of the locker room, Sebastian reveals a blood oath sworn on his father's grave: One day I'll own you. The price? One night of absolute surrender. No rules. No safe word. Damian expects cruelty. Instead, Sebastian drags him to the abandoned rink where Damian's father used to beat him. He forces Damian to skate until his feet bleed—then bandages the wounds with unexpected gentleness. Every command is a twisted therapy. Every touch blurs the line between hatred and obsession. But someone is watching. A blackmailer has a video of their most intimate moment. Damian's father is faking a stroke to manipulate him. And the journalist who shot them is just the beginning. As the league tries to ban them, as friends become enemies, as a bullet arrives with a note that says "Game seven. You're dead," Damian and Sebastian must decide: Is their bond a trap—or the only thing that can save them? When hatred bleeds into obsession, who will be the first to surrender?

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.