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Savannah Wilson, your typical normal girl, well as normal as a werewolf can be. She soon finds out her typically normal life, is about to get turned upside down. Her older brother Ryan, just packs up and leaves once he turns 16, she doesn't know the reason for his sudden urge to leave town, she misses him but decides to try and put him at the back of her mind. But when he returns a few days before her sixteenth birthday, she learns something that will change everything, even the way she views her "family" She always felt different to the people in her school, even her close friends. She would have never believed how different she really was

Sext Buddy: [I’d do anything to fuck you right now.] Alicia: [I want you so bad too…really.] During the summer, Alicia has been sexting with a total stranger in hopes that she’d never meet him. At the beginning of college, her mum tells her that they have a guest. She meets the stranger she was constantly sexting. But then, what happens when the stranger is her cousin?

King Brishor Oighar and his General Chezzal are mates, but their mate bond is incomplete. They have a third mate whom they have been finding for a long time. And when she comes in the form of twenty-one-year old Meryl, their lives take a drastic turn. Meryl was orphaned at a seven and her father bequeathed his estate, Windley, to Lady Judith, her stepmother. Judith wants to sell the estate and has evil plans, but Meryl wants to save it and save her people who live in Judith's fear. Will she be able to save Windley? Will Brishor and Chezzal be able to claim her? Or will she reject them for... Windley?

'I'm mommy's good boy,' he repeated. 'You really want to hear me beg?' He said letting out a cheeky laugh. 'I want to cum so bad,' he said in between pants. 'Please...' 'Please what?' Another male voice sounded from behind me. I smiled, knowing who it is. I heard his footsteps and felt his eyes on my, making me shiver. He came into view on my right and walked over to Jackson, who looked flustered, looking between the two of us. I witnessed him revert back into submission so quickly, bratty behavior all gone. That's my daddy. Michael placed his bag down and brought one knee on the bed, leaning down on Jackson. I watched in awe as he kissed him with much passion and like every other time, I was in awe. Of their connection. I witnessed it first hand and it's the purest I've ever seen. Michael pulled back to look at me, winking with a knowing smirk as he looked down at our conjoined bodies. 'Tell mommy what you want, baby,' he turned to Jackson, who whimpered under the control of two Doms. 'Come on, beg for it, love,' Jackson was panting with need. 'Please me mommy...' ● After a tragic but not so tragic divorce between Samantha Dixon-Pitt and Martin Pitt, Michael and Jackson are ready to welcome a third party into their relationship. Restricted by friendship and Samantha's marriage, they are ready to take the next step.

Lately, I've been having a weird dream consistently. In the dream, a man with a mole near the corner of one eye keeps telling me, "I miss you so much." But whenever I try to take a good look at him, I wake up from the dream. That is, until I spot the man in my dreams on a pop-up window featuring an advertisement that promotes chatting with AI bots. There, I personally craft every inch of that man, making him my perfect AI boyfriend. But right after I uninstall the app, he appears in my apartment in person.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.