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LGBT+ Stories

The Wolf's Mate

The Wolf's Mate

5.0
LGBT+ Jae Ivy

The extraordinary life of Ivy, a half-breed born from a witch mother and a vampire dad, takes an unexpected turn when he discovers he is not only a vampire-witch but also a werewolf. To his dismay, he is an omega wolf, an outcast among his kind. This revelation shatters his world and sets him on a path of self-discovery. Read Ivy's story on his thrilling journey as he navigates love, betrayal, and the weight of his destiny; As I laid down to rest, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The darkness of the night seemed to be closing in on me, and I felt as though I was at the mercy of the unknown. So, I made the decision to sleep with one eye open, to keep watch over my surroundings even as I closed my eyes to rest. The dim light from the moon cast shadows across the room, and I could feel my heart beating faster with each passing moment. But by keeping that one eye open, I felt a sense of control, a sense of security that helped me drift off to sleep. I was in an urgent situation, desperately trying to escape the clutches of blood-thirsty vampires and ferocious wolves who were targeting my innocent baby! Thankfully, the remarkable witches had taken an oath to shield us from harm's way! With my loving and devoted mate standing right by my side, our mission was to ensure the safe and secure arrival of our precious little one. "To all the witches, vampires, and wolves! Brace yourselves for the dawn of a new era! The prophecy of Agrippa has chosen Ivy's womb to carry the next ruler who will reunite our extraordinary realms!" This was the statement that had put me under fire. Neither of the Kingdoms wanted the prophecy to be fulfilled. They had to get rid of me, only the witches stood with me!

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My Bitter Brew: A CEO's Regret

My Bitter Brew: A CEO's Regret

5.0
LGBT+ Gavin

For seven years, I poured my life into Artisan Ales, brewing the beer that built our empire, secretly married to its co-founder and CEO, Chloe. Tonight, at our success party, I expected her to finally announce us, our shared journey, our partnership. Instead, she introduced a fresh-faced intern, Liam, giving him full credit for my life' s work-my signature IPA-and beaming as he winked at her, publicly erasing me from our story. My stomach clenched as applause erupted, not for us, but for Chloe and her new "power duo" with Liam. Later, as she fretted over Liam's fake migraine, Chloe tossed me a cheap, flimsy watch-a pathetic imitation of the expensive one she bought him-an insult that cut deeper than any public slight. "Don't be dramatic," she sighed, dismissing our secret marriage as an inconvenience, solidifying her betrayal. How could the woman who promised "us" and believed in my beer, now treat me like an obsolete relic, a disposable part of her ruthless ambition? The overwhelming feeling wasn't anger, but a hollow, cold emptiness where our shared dreams used to be, replaced by a bitter taste of ash. As the cheap watch ticked, reminding me of my worth in her eyes, a new, chilling resolve set in: I would not just leave, I would reclaim everything that was truly mine. Picking up my phone, I dialed the only other person who truly valued my craft, prepared to cut the cord, not just from the company, but from Chloe for good.

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Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

5.0
LGBT+ Johan Gorski

The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

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