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Veruca And Her Dog Rated M

Sword M

(SPOILER ALERT!!!!:) In a realm crushed under the iron fist of the ruthless tyrant Dextin, hope flickers like a dying ember. The story explodes in a moment of shocking defiance when the ancient, sentient Red Katana chooses Dran, a battle-scarred elite soldier, as its wielder. This isn't some destined hero; Dran is a man tormented by personal tragedy, his wife brutally murdered by Dextin himself. His desperate whisper—"Why the hell did you choose me?"—sets the stage for a rebellion born not of prophecy, but of raw, agonizing pain and a thirst for vengeance. The palace becomes a battleground of wills and blades. Dran's initial, impulsive strike against Dextin ignites an inferno, both literally and figuratively, as the palace burns and loyalties shift. Witnessing Dran's unyielding spirit, the oppressed elite soldiers, led by the steadfast Aingo, finally find their courage, abandoning their tyrant. While Dran faces Dextin in a brutal, no-holds-barred duel, Aingo orchestrates a desperate prison break, freeing countless villagers and sending Neon to protect Dran's young son, Rider. The climax is a devastating, fiery dance of death between Dran and Dextin, each fueled by a personal, consuming hatred. Despite suffering grievous wounds, Dran unleashes the Red Katana's full, unbridled power in a final, sacrificial attack. Though he falls, his dying wish to Aingo—to raise Rider as a warrior and the future wielder of the Red Katana—cements a new legacy. The Red Katana, now dormant but bound to the true Sword Master, awaits its next champion. Seventeen years later, the echoes of Dran's sacrifice linger, poised to awaken a new dawn for a land still yearning for true freedom.
Lil_Div · 2.9K Views

The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella was supposed to be sipping champagne at a luxury spa, not waking up in the middle of a forest. Worse, a SYSTEM had attached itself to her like some clingy ex, spouting nonsense about survival, quests, and—oh, hell no—manual labor. "System, I was NOT built for the wilderness! My ideal ‘roughing it’ experience involves a five-star hotel with bad WiFi!" Now, instead of lounging in silk robes, she’s being ordered to farm? To hunt? "A farming quest? You want me—a city girl—to grow food? System, I once killed a cactus by overwatering it. This is NOT my calling!" And don’t even get her started on the hygiene situation. "You want me to bathe in a cold river? Darling, I require warm water, scented oils, and an ambience! What do I look like—some barbarian?!" Unfortunately, the locals—big, muscular beastmen—don’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. The women? Neglecting their skin like it’s a crime to be radiant. The men? Walking hygiene disasters. "Ladies, if your man can smell you before he sees you, we have a problem." "You see this? This is lotion. It exists so you don’t look like a dried-up leaf. Use it." "A beard should be majestic, not tragic. Let me fix it." And the beastmen? They don’t just stare at her like she’s an oddity. No, they hover. They smirk. They lean in too close, fangs flashing with amusement. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she huffed, crossing her arms. The panther grinned, his tail flicking. "Because you’re fascinating when you’re annoyed." No, absolutely not. She was not here for this nonsense. "If you have time to stare, you have time to moisturize." She didn’t ask to be here. She didn’t ask to be their savior. But if she has to suffer through this world, she’s making everyone around her suffer less—through skincare, style, and some serious attitude. "If I hear one more ‘We don’t season our food here,’ I’m launching a war." "If you have time to gossip, you have time to do squats." "You want to impress a woman? Start with not smelling like the battlefield." Survival isn’t just about fighting monsters; it’s about looking good while doing it. So what if the System keeps throwing impossible quests her way? "What do you mean ‘you can’t skip quests’?! Since when?! Where is the skip button?! I demand a skip button!" But somewhere between dodging ridiculous quests and fixing these people’s tragic grooming habits, Isabella found herself in situations. Uncomfortable, heart-racing situations. Like being trapped against a tree by the red python, his red eyes half-lidded as he murmured, "You talk too much, little star. Should I silence you?" Like waking up with the lion lord’s fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders, his deep voice gruff, "You shiver in your sleep. I’ll fix that." Like the phoenix watching her every move, his burning gaze searing into her skin as he mused, "You cause chaos wherever you go, but I find that I don’t mind." Oh, hell. No. She was not about to fall for four beastmen. She was too pretty for this much stress. "If you insult me again, I’ll make sure your soul needs a beauty upgrade." "I refuse to be disrespected by anyone who dresses like an unwashed tree branch." And yet, when a rival tribe came to challenge her, when danger lurked too close, those same beastmen stood beside her—smirking, taunting, fighting for her. "A beastman growled at me today. I growled back. He ran. I am the alpha now." Isabella isn’t just surviving. She’s thriving. And this world better keep up.
Glimmer_Giggle · 203.3K Views

C M

Mehrajān's heart is a fragile mosaic, pieced together by moments with the one person who defined her world—Muazam. In this reflective and raw exploration of love and loss, Mehrajān finds herself looking back at the memories of the boy she loved, the boy who was always just out of reach. Each chapter is a separate fragment of their intertwined lives, capturing a single moment that was forever marked by him. In one chapter, Mehrajān stands frozen in her kitchen, hearing a conversation between Muazam and her aunt that shatters her heart. His rejection of her—the very person who had quietly fallen for him—leaves her feeling lost and betrayed. Yet, this is only one of the many moments that have shaped her emotional landscape. Every recollection is a mixture of passion, pain, and nostalgia—memories of fleeting glances, whispered words, and unspoken connections that shaped her world. The narrative doesn't follow a linear path but instead unfolds like a scattered collection of thoughts and emotions, each memory tied to Muazam, each one a chapter of her heart. Through these fragments, Mehrajān grapples with the complexity of love, the sorrow of unrequited feelings, and the confusion of growing up in a world of family expectations and personal desires. [ CHOOSE ME ] is not just a love story—it's a tender journey through a girl’s heart, where love is never simple, and the memory of someone can change everything. Through each chapter, readers will find themselves drawn into Mehrajān’s world, feeling the weight of her unspoken love and the bittersweet truth that sometimes, memories are all that remain.
Marwa_Tahir · 15.2K Views
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