Is Humble Smit Active On Social Media Platforms?

After five years of simping over Hayden Reid, a car accident wiped Lena Dawson's memory clean. To humiliate her, Hayden handed her a photo of his uncle and said, "That's your boyfriend. Go after him." Then, she pursued Hunter Reid, the elite who became wheelchair-bound because of her. Everyone expected him to ruin her, but instead, Lena became Mrs. Reid, radiant and untouchable. Hayden regretted it and wanted her back, but she had already moved on...

Warning: This isn't for saints seeking redemption! It's a collection of Raw, Forbidden tales, ONLY for sinners, good girls begging to be defiled by Daddy’s hot strokes! ONLY read if you want the thrill of warmth slipping down your slit… You’ll clench those filthy thighs, squeeze against your wetness, and beg with a racing heart, but no, there’s no mercy. Because when you're done, you’ll be soaked up, and shaking from climax without being touched. Every story is dark, perverted, dipped in filth. They’ll mess with your mind till they break you, ruin you. Neglected girlfriends take the wildest revenge on their cheating ex with his favorite hockey stars. Milfs get pinned down and devoured by their hot stepsons. Sisters get ravaged by their brother’s besties while he sleeps down the hall. No safe words. No escape. Read at your own risk.

Twenty-two-year-old Tricia Volkanov's life doesn't belong to her. As the first daughter of Mathias Volkanov, head of the Volkanov Mafia, she's more of a pawn in her father's ruthless game of chess, than his beloved daughter.  When her father picks a noble man for her to get married to, Tricia is sad. She feels nothing for Antonio Dombruso, and rebelliously escapes the Volkanov mansion to experience a careless night where she encounters the alluring, beautiful man named Gideon Scarfoni, whom she hands over her virginity to on a platter. When she disappears the next day right before Gideon wakes up, Tricia is eager to put that one, sinful, passionate night behind her and get married to Antonio, but fate has other plans. The stranger's baby is growing in her belly, and it turns out he lied to her from the start. Because his name is not Gideon Scarfoni at all, but Connor Mennetti, and he's a formidable Mafia kingpin, and billionaire whom her father wants dead. THIS IS A FOUR-BOOK SERIES: BOOK 1: HIS BOOK 2: HIM BOOK 3: SHE BOOK 4: HER

After four years of marriage, James Lawson, who had never posted anything on social media, unexpectedly updated his status: "What an adorable little foodie!" The attached photo showed a young woman wearing pink cat ears, eating at a Korean BBQ restaurant. Her cheeks were flushed red from the spicy food as she stuck out her tongue. It was Sophie Jones, a new content creator at his company. Within a minute, our mutual friend commented: "Dude, you forgot to switch accounts!" Just like that, James's new post disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, only to show up moments later on Sophie's feed. Then James's name lit up my phone screen. In the past, I would have already taken screenshots and called him first to confront him. It would have inevitably ended in a heated argument. But this time, I calmly watched his call go to voicemail without answering.

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."