Pouting Expression Novels & Stories

Everyone called Mia a shameless whore. However, the one trailing behind her was the youngest don of the Yorick family, James. He hand-washed her lace camisoles, broke three ribs for her, and even with his face covered in blood from a beating, he could still smile at her. One night, after too much drinking, the underboss he trusted most leaned down beside him. His face was full of disdain. “Boss, Mia is a disgrace to all of us! A woman like that, how could she ever be worthy of you?” James suddenly laughed. His eyes went terrifyingly blank. The cigar between his fingers glowed faintly in the dark. “Back then, before I secured my position, I was young, greedy for power. To get my sister-in-law that antique necklace she wanted, I took advantage of Mia being drunk and took pictures of her myself… “Ten dollars a copy. I sold thirty thousand of them. Things blew way out of control… I owe her.” James took a long drink of whiskey while his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thankfully… she will never know. I will spend my whole life making it up to her, treating her twice as well.” He did not see the private room door quietly close the moment he said those words. Mia turned around with a blank expression on her face and walked into a small clinic on the corner. She laid down on the operating table. He would never deserve to know that he had once been a father, if only for a moment. That whole lifetime he planned to spend making it up to her, she did not want it anymore.

A curse is cast upon everyone in this village, reducing us to mutes. But once a villager's lover takes three laps around the back mountain and marries said villager successfully, the curse on that villager will be broken. My childhood friend, who's the same age as me, has already gotten married and embraced his life as a regular person. Even my cousin, who's just turned 18 years old, has her curse broken as well. I, on the other hand, am about to turn 30 years old soon, and yet I'm still a mute. Whenever I'm about to get married, all of my ex-fiances, who kept telling me that they'd love me with all their hearts, would do anything just to terminate our engagements right after they came out of the back mountain. In order to proclaim his deep love for me, my tenth fiance, Isaac Jameson, tells me confidently that he'd definitely marry me once he's done with his laps around the mountain. But as soon as his words fall, his expression changes the moment he sets foot into the mountain. To my horror, Isaac picks up an axe from the ground and begins hacking at me with it. "Why are you still alive in this world? Why can't you just die already?" I can only lie on the ground while suffering from intense pain. I have no idea what's in the back mountain and why the same outcome will happen every time. Why is it that the entire village can break their curse so easily, and yet I can never get married despite having gone through it ten times in a row?

On our wedding night, my husband Grayson's sister-in-law, Scarlette, stumbled drunkenly into our bridal suite and threw her arms around him, refusing to let go. "Kayla, my husband died young, and I really just want a child. Please, lend him to me for one night," she cried through her tears, shoving a toy into my hand. "I promise I'll return him tomorrow. And if you get lonely… you can use this to comfort yourself." I stood there, dumbfounded, my gaze shifting in confusion to Grayson, who was already helping Scarlette steady herself. "You're really going to sleep with her?" He avoided my eyes, his tone strangely urgent. "Don't overthink it. She's drunk and talking nonsense. I'll take her back to her room to rest." As he started to leave with her, I stepped in front of them, blocking their way. "Grayson, it's our wedding night tonight. Are you seriously going to walk out with her?" His expression darkened as he pushed me aside. "You're my wife now—try to be more sensible. Don't get jealous over something so trivial." Then, carefully, he guided her out of the room. I wanted to run after him and stop them, but when I saw the deep concern in his eyes as he looked at her, the truth finally hit me. The love this man had for me was no longer mine alone. And if that was the case, why should I cling to a marriage that had already soured? I might as well walk away with my head held high.

Ever heard of a “wife for hire”? Absurd, right? Well, it was a brand-new concept to me too. As I stared at the billionaire sitting across from me, one thought rang loud and clear in my mind.“This man has lost it.“ How did I go from interviewing for a cleaner’s position to this? An offer to “marry” a billionaire? The words had barely left his lips before I scoffed, unable to help myself. “Is this some kind of joke?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him, skepticism dripping from every word. He tilted his head to the side, his expression oddly calm. His brows lifted slightly as his sharp gaze locked onto mine. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice steady yet tinged with what seemed like guilt—or maybe embarrassment. “Did I offend you? If I have…” “I mean, no offense, but… look at you. You’re tall, handsome, rich,” I continued, gesturing toward him as if to underline my point. “Any woman out there would swarm around you, dying for the chance to be with you. So, why me? Unless there’s more to it. Unless there’s… a motive.” … After being handed divorce papers at the hospital—mere moments after losing her baby,Amber refuses to fall apart. She is not weak. She is not pathetic. She won’t waste tears on the heavens or wait for Karma to settle the score. Instead, she vows to become Karma herself. However, fate leads her to an encounter with him, a wealthy, enigmatic billionaire with a haunting past and a son who longs for a mother. Drawn to her striking resemblance to someone from his past, he makes her an audacious offer. One that could change both of their lives forever.

Raisel Alaric Warden, a devoted wife, loves caring for her husband, Alaric Warden, a millionaire businessman at Warden Company. They fell in love in college and have been happily married for three years. However, Raisel’s world was shaken when she discovered that Alaric had feelings for Davina, his secretary, from their university days. Though initially unworried, Raisel noticed Alaric’s growing absence at events. At a social gathering, Raisel’s best friend, Hazel, noticed her solitude. “Why are you by yourself?” Hazel asked, handing Raisel a drink. “Alaric was busy,” Raisel replied, masking her unease. As they spoke, Raisel saw Alaric with Davina, their affection evident. When Davina kissed Alaric’s cheek, causing a stir among photographers, Raisel’s heart sank. “What is this all about?” Raisel asked, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, Raisel, but I want a divorce. I love Davina,” Alaric confessed, as tears filled Raisel’s eyes and cameras flashed around them. Overwhelmed, Raisel fled, only to be caught by strong arms—those of Soren Dalton, her best friend and billionaire businessman, whom she hadn’t seen in five years. “Soren,” Raisel whispered. Understanding the situation from a video his bodyguard showed him, Soren’s expression turned cold, his glare fixed on Alaric, Davina, and the paparazzi. “Remember in college, when I pretended to be your boyfriend to keep other guys away? Let’s do that again,” he whispered in her ear. Torn between the past and present, Raisel looked between Soren and Alaric, caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

On the day of the wedding, Galen Shaw forces me to crack walnuts with my bare hands for his so-called female buddy. My expression goes cold, and I refuse outright. "My hands are for holding a scalpel, not cracking walnuts for her!" He only chuckles and orders someone to hold me down. Then, he glues the walnuts to my palms himself. One by one, he slams them against the ground. "You cheated while studying medicine. Now that you've married me, forget about ever being a doctor again!" I grit my teeth through the pain. My fingers are aching, but I try to explain. "I went abroad to study medicine for you!" His so-called female buddy sneers in a shrill voice. "All that talk about the Shaw family's hereditary disease is nonsense! Galen has been perfectly healthy for over 20 years. Don't tell me you just want another excuse to cozy up with your precious senior?" The moment those words leave her lips, the faint thought of having someone bandage my hand disappears. A shadow crosses Galen's face. "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson!" He throws me into the basement and locks me there for three days. By the time I crawl out, my hands are completely ruined. Later, when Galen's hereditary disease finally surfaces, the doctor tries to comfort him. "This disease may be terminal, but there is still a way. Dr. Robinson has just returned from overseas. She's the only one in the world who can perform this surgery. "I hear that she's your wife."

Layla is standing too close to him. She knows it the moment she stops moving, when the space between them shifts from accidental to deliberate. Luca doesn’t step back. He never does. He only looks down at her, dark eyes steady and unreadable, as if he’s been waiting to see whether she’d do exactly this. “You’re doing it again,” he says quietly. “Doing what?” Her voice gives her away—soft, breathless. “Standing where you shouldn’t.” His gaze drops briefly to her mouth. “And pretending you don’t know.” Heat coils low in her stomach. “Maybe I don’t care.” That gets his attention. Something sharp flickers across his expression—control tightening. He reaches out slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. His fingers hook lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. The touch is barely there, but it steals her breath all the same. “Careful,” he murmurs. “That’s not something you say to men like me.” “Why?” she whispers. “Because you might misunderstand?” His thumb traces her jaw, deliberate. “No,” he says. “Because I won’t.” His hand stays there, steady, grounding. She feels the restraint in him now—the effort it takes not to close the distance completely. “There are lines I don’t cross lightly,” Luca says. “And once I do, Layla, I don’t step back.” She swallows. “Then why are you still here?” He leans in just enough that his breath ghosts her skin. “Because you haven’t asked me to.”

“My bed is where you belong right now, little girl.” His eyes dragged slowly over my body, bold and unashamed. “Don’t call me little girl. You’re twenty-one, I’m thirty-one. I can be your mother.” The moment the words left my mouth, his expression darkened. “Capture her. And take her straight to my bed.” ******" Diana has survived a traumatic past that destroyed her trust in men. It left her with one rule — no men, no love talkless of someone younger than her. But rules don’t matter to him. He is the youngest mafia king, feared even by men twice his age. Arrogant. Ruthless. Poisonously possessive. And the moment he sees her, he marks her in his mind as his next obsession. she tell him no. He decides to destroy every reason she has for saying it. He wants her obedience. He wants her fear. He wants her on his bed, under his control… and he doesn’t hide it. He swears he will break her defiance. She swears no man will ever own her again. But when buried secrets rise and Diana’s past crashes into his world, both of them will learn that some truths ruin, some desires burn, and some destinies refuse to be escaped. Warning: Breeding, lactation kink, forced proximity, age gab, Captive, Possessive/Obsessive Hero, Mafia dark world, themes of biting, feeding, or sexual acts centered around blood and power exchange. no raping. ( Fiction written for entertainment only and never ever try what you see in a book, they are just imagination) Thanks

“You want a divorce,” he said flatly. “Yes.” “You.” He tilted his head. “The same woman who begged her father to arrange this marriage because she's completely in love with me, who has spent two years making my life…” he stopped, and rephrased “you want a divorce.” “People change.” “What scheme is this now Arabella?” I frowned. “It's not a scheme, it's a divorce, and it's very common among people who are done with a…” “Impossible.” He said it like that was the end of it, discussion over. He turned away from me and walked toward the door like I hadn't said anything at all. “Andrew!” “Get up.” He didn't turn around. “Get dressed, something presentable. We're going to the palace tonight.” “I just asked you for a divorce…” “It's a banquet.” He finally glanced back over his shoulder, and there was nothing in his expression that suggested he'd heard a single word I said about divorce. “We're meeting the King tonight. You have a few hours so I suggest you stop wasting them.” “Did you hear what I just said to you?” “Get ready, Bella.” ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ The Ruthless Lycan King isn’t just my mate. He’s my secret. I’m already married to Alpha Andrew yet every full moon, I end up in the King’s arms… feeding his curse with my blood, and my body. He needs me to survive. I need him more than I should. If my husband ever finds out, this forbidden affair will start a war.

At the bride selection ball, the queen herself chose me to be the crown prince's consort. Then my cousin Yvonne Johnson suddenly dropped to her knees in the middle of the hall and presented an erotic painting to the court. The woman in the painting had no face, but the rose birthmark at my waist had been rendered in chilling detail. Yvonne's eyes were red, her voice soft and cool. "I love my cousin dearly, but I can't deceive the queen. Your Majesty, please look closely. My cousin's virtue is compromised. She isn't fit to be the crown prince's consort." In a single night, my reputation was destroyed. I became the most shameless woman in the capital. Yvonne smiled at me, sweet as ever. "If your mother hadn't drawn your birthmark herself, no one would've believed that the eldest daughter of a duke's household would do something so indecent." My mother looked at me with an expression that held only resignation. "Your aunt once saved my life. I made a promise to Yvonne. I swore I'd give her the finest match in the world. But as long as you're here, you're in her way. Charlotte, my hands are tied." The ground dropped out from under me. It was my mother who'd had that painting made. She'd destroyed my name, my future, all to help her favorite niece marry the crown prince. Using my so-called disgrace as justification, she ordered me to hang myself. Meanwhile, my cousin married into the palace in glory, dressed in the gown and jewels that had been meant for me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the bride selection ball.