How Can I Get Shut Up & Train For Free?

If you’re a delicate little flower who clutches pearls and believes sex should only happen in the missionary position with the lights off and your spouse’s permission, close this book immediately. Seriously. Put it down before you ruin your boring little life with uncontrollable wetness and questionable morals. Still here? Good girl. Welcome to Dripping Forbidden: 100 Ways to Make Yourself Wet — a ruthless, dripping-wet collection of one hundred filthy, plot-driven taboo stories that don’t just flirt with the line… they bend you over it, fuck you senseless, and leave you leaking.😉 💦

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content. Taboo and forbidden relationships. Stepfather/stepdaughter. Stepbrother/stepsister. Father-in-law. Age gap. Dubious consent. Possessive and controlling men. Stalking. Dark obsession. Power imbalance. Boss/employee. Mafia. Enemies. Jealousy. Degradation. Praise kink. Rough sex. Multiple partners. Cheating (not between main characters). Morally grey everything. This is not for good girls. Good girls don't read this. Good girls don't wonder what it would feel like to get caught, pinned, owned. Good girls don't lie awake thinking about the man they're not supposed to want — the stepfather who looks at them like a problem he's decided to solve, the stepbrother who knows exactly what he's doing, the boss who makes the air thin every time he walks into the room. If you're a good girl, close this now. Still here? Good. Make Me Scream, Daddy is a collection of filthy, unhinged, no-apology erotica for the woman who wants it wrong, wants it rough, and wants it with a man who has absolutely no business giving it to her. These are short stories, not slow burns. There is no waiting. There is no fade to black. There is only the moment things tip over the edge — and then everything that comes after. Stepdads who stop pretending. Stepbrothers who don't. Dangerous men who decided you were theirs before you even knew their name. Bosses who ruin the professional relationship on purpose. Stalkers who make you feel seen in ways that should terrify you and don't. These men are not good for you. That's the point. 100 chapters. Zero remorse. Read alone. Or with your little Rose.

A mute Alpha, traumatized by his parents' murder, abandons his fated mate at first sight—convinced his silence makes him unworthy. He then embarks on a desperate cross-country hunt through rival packs to find her, only to face a vengeful hunter who forces him to break twelve years of silence under torture. Meanwhile, his fiercely loyal mate storms into enemy territory to rescue him, and his womanizing Beta discovers his own fated mate is a man. Packed with primal attraction, brutal action, and emotional redemption, this shifter romance redefines what it means to be Alpha.

Aurelia, disliked and mistreated in the pack, is mute and treated like a slave. In the mating hour, she found her mate, who turned out to be the Alpha Dante, of the pack. Will be reject her for being mute? Or will their love grow stronger. How will Aurelia face life's opposition when she is displaced from her rightful position.

Blurb Having no one in your life seems hard but for Ayato it’s only normal, so what if he doesn’t have anyone? As long as he have money. But the problem is he doesn’t have money too. No one to lean on + No money= Seige Ayato. Ayato decided to enter S University where they give everything for free and pays money , but when he entered the University that’s so good to be true he discovered it’s darkest side where he met Yuuki Toshita his assigned ‘Personal Trainer’. Personal Trainers in S University aren’t normal trainers that you expect to be, Personal Trainers there train other ‘things’. They train your body in different ways, they teach you different styles and positions in different ways. Ayato decided to apply the V Course to avoid other ‘lessons’ but one day Yuuki-sensei showed up in his dorm one day naked! What will Ayato do to avoid the ‘things’ he don’t wanted to do?

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.