Good Smut Books

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

I became the ultimate simp for Shannon Seay, the school's notorious flirt, and everyone assumed I was head over heels for her. When she skipped classes to pick fights or chase thrills, I'd copy notes and homework for her. When she tangled in ambiguous flings with other guys, I'd provide alibis to cover her tracks. For three grueling years, I poured my heart and soul into transforming her into an academic star, securing her spot at a top university. But right before orientation, she dumped me. Towering over me, she declared, "I know you've had a crush on me forever, but you're all books and no spark. Compared to Hunter, you're too rigid. We're done. I'm with him now." The crowd held its breath, anticipating my meltdown. I peeked at my phone, confirming a $50-million transfer, and replied with genuine nonchalance, "Alright, congrats." No one knew my unwavering devotion was purely because her father had paid handsomely for it. Now that the pay had been secured, it was time for me to vanish.

The company manager, Elton Baldwin, wants to promote my best friend, Lacey Donnovan, at work. In my past life, I, Giselle Ashford, told Lacey not to accept his offer. But after she realized that someone else got promoted in her place and even doubled her salary overnight, Lacey got extremely jealous. She conspired with her boyfriend, Xavier Pugh, to push me off the top of a building, cursing at me and saying, "You jealous bitch! You've always hated seeing me do well, and now you cost me such a good opportunity!" When I open my eyes again, I realize that my world is no longer a shattered one with crimson blood in my eyes. Instead, Lacey's inquisitive face appears before me. She asks, "What do you think, Giselle? Do you think I should grab this opportunity?"

Housing prices collapsed. My parents ran a real estate business. They and their long-time family friend, the Goodwin family, went into bankruptcy. My parents had me and my younger sister draw lots to decide who would marry into the Goodwin family to fulfill an old engagement. In my previous life, I drew the short stick. From that moment, I became a slave to both families. During the day, I needed to work to pay off the Goodwin family’s debt. At night, I needed to deliver food to cover my parents’ financial losses. I survived on scraps and slept in the cold. I continued to work even when I coughed up blood. That day, I went all out and finally secured a multimillion-dollar business deal. My heart burst with excitement. I was eager to tell them the good news. Across the street, I saw my parents get off a Rolls-Royce with wide grins. They dressed up in luxury brands from head to toe. Then, I saw my husband, Alfred, gently wrap one of his arms around my glamorous sister’s shoulder. I wanted to rush over and question them. But a speeding truck slammed into me and sent me flying away. I lay in a pool of blood while staring at them indignantly. I heard them chuckle softly. “What a pity… She was so close to enjoying a good life.” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I drew the lots. Since they liked to pretend to be broke, I would make it a reality!

I once thought Jareth was the love of my life. He said "Mom's in the hospital," but then turned around and kissed Lily in the VIP seats at the concert; when his bipolar disorder flared up, he was violent with me, but then told Lily, "You’re such a good girl"; he had videos with Lily saved on his phone, and in the chat records, he called me "the cold, emotionless finance robot." Five years of love, ruined in his lies and betrayals. He thought I would cry and scream, but all I did was watch him finish his final act. When he knelt on the ground and said, "I was wrong," what I handed him was the merger agreement: "Sign it. This is the first debt you owe me." Those broken hearts will eventually turn into sharp blades that will pierce him. And I will rise from the ruins, living more beautifully than anyone else.

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.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

The cataclysm was upon us. The world was besieged by a wave of deadly frost, covering everything it touched in an icy coffin. We were trapped in a cave of ice, but fortunately, Joshua Frost came to our rescue just in time. I thought I was saved, but I thought wrong. Joshua didn't even give me a moment of his time. Instead, he went to my best friend's side. "Irene isn't good with the cold, and she's not in the best of health. Just hang on for a bit, Sera. The rescue squad's coming soon." When the rescue squad did come, I had passed out from the extreme cold, my body numb. While I was weakened, Joshua stripped me of my Ability and gave it to my best friend.

I worked overtime until the early morning hours and called my driver to pick me up. She frowned the entire ride. "You go home so late every night, and you always have me pick you up. You have no consideration for others." I found her comment baffling. "Wasn't all of this made clear when I hired you? The job requires you to be available at all times, and your salary is generous." "What exactly are you trying to say?" Chloe Morrison's tone turned reproachful and condescending. "I'm concerned about you, obviously. What good man goes home at dawn every day? You're probably fooling around outside. A man should conduct himself properly. You should get off work earlier and go home to do housework and cook. That's how you win a girl over." Her words irritated me, and my tone turned sharp. "Ms. Morrison, you're just a driver. You're not anyone to me. Don't overstep."

"Does riding a horse feel good?" The saddle jolted beneath us as the horse trotted along. I steadied myself by holding the slender waist of my friend's alluring wife. Her skirt fluttered constantly in the wind. My friend was in a nearby house, completely absorbed in a card game—while right in front of him, I was out riding a horse with his beautiful, delicate young wife…