Good Smut Stories

Right before graduation, my roommate waved around a job offer from some overseas company. It had a three-day workweek, with a starting salary of $50,000 a month. It sounded too good to be true, so I warned her it might be a scam. When she struck out on other job leads, I asked my dad to get her a position at his company. She scoffed at the eight-hour days and $6,000 monthly salary, calling it slave labor. Then she went live online, falsely accusing my dad of inappropriate advances and pressuring her to bear him a son. When skeptics questioned her, she swore no woman would lie about her honor. The internet erupted, branding my dad a predator. Our company collapsed under the backlash, leaving us drowning in debt. To spare me, my dad jumped from a rooftop to his death. Devastated, I wandered into traffic and was struck by a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Amber got that shady offer.

There's a month to Angela Thompson's wedding, but she's no longer sure whether to proceed with it. The reason for her doubts? Her fiancé, Carl Swain, wants to have a child with his good friend's widow, Lucy Hogg. Carl says, "Keith was my best friend. He died so suddenly, leaving Lucy alone in this world. She tried to take her life a few times, you know. Maybe having a child will help her get past this." Angela can't understand it. She says, "Lucy can adopt or marry someone else if she wants a child. She can even go to a sperm bank abroad if she wants! Why do you have to be the one to have the child with her?"

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.

A week before the wedding, my fiancé, Luke Graham, announced that he needed to marry his first love, Mandy Lynch, before marrying me. “It’s because her mother passed away,” he explained, “and her dying wish was to see Mandy married to a good man. I’m just fulfilling an elder’s final request. Don’t overthink it.” But the company had already planned to launch the “True Love” jewelry line on the day of our grand wedding. Impatiently, he dismissed my concerns: “It’s just a few million. Does that compare to Mandy’s love for her mother? If you’re so eager to make those millions, go find someone else to marry.” Hearing his cold and heartless words, I understood everything. Without another word, I turned and dialled my family. “Brother, help me find a new groom.”

In my dormitory, there was a poor student. With all the good intentions in the world, my roommates and I were eager to help her, not realizing how much our help would cost. She wasn't impressed by the hairdryer we offered, insisting on borrowing a branded one instead. The skincare products we gave her? They were applied to her feet. And, as if that wasn't enough, she specifically demanded luxury face cream. One day, I lent her my tablet to look up some information, and to my surprise, she secretly opened up my gaming app, spent all the diamonds and reward tickets I had saved for half a year, and left me empty-handed. When I asked her to pay me back, she turned the tables and posted a public message online, accusing me. "I'm just a poor student from the countryside, never played games before. Are the materials in the game really worth this much?" Before I knew it, the comment section was flooded with criticisms of me. In a fit of frustration, I fired back with a post of my own, throwing her into the spotlight. "Well, I suppose you've never tasted the bitterness of being cyberbullied, have you?"

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

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.

Leaving my birth home seemed like the most difficult decision until I have to adapt as the Alpha of a Pack I know nothing about. When erroneous and jeopardizing choices streaks into the Pack, it seems as if a mass of perilous bombs revolves around the Sphere. My life is taking a bad turn and Phyllis does not give me a moment of slack. She wants to groom a strong, defensive Alpha and I see all her effort crashing when my Mate dies. Yet in the heart of these inevitable occurrences, not only do I find myself flanked by my mating bond and the gripping snare of a furtive woman. I also realize that I am wedged between the plights of a reincarnated Mephistophelean searching for his rebirthed lover and a savage witch striving to rouse her Queen from an infinity curse. Caveat: Detailed smut scene, flecks of same-sex smut~

It was only in the eighth year of our marriage that I discovered my husband had a mistress in the neighborhood. Her place had the same layout as mine, except her furnishings were more luxurious. He was a good husband for her, meticulously caring for his young and beautiful wife. They were even expecting a baby. She sent me a message, eager to get rid of and replace me. She had forgotten I was the one who had been through hard times with him, Clyde Sherwood, and fought alongside him for more than a decade. Her pregnancy was what they both wanted, but there was no way I would allow things to work out the way they anticipated. Taking advantage of his conflicted feelings, I made sure he didn't have any more assets. Everything came with a price. Not only would I make him fall from grace, but I would also make him rot in ruins.

The fifth time we went to the courthouse, James Ceasar and I still weren’t officially married. We had picked a good day for it, but right before it was our turn, he got a call and rushed off in a hurry. With my eyes turning red, I pointed at the screen showing the waiting numbers, trying to stop him. “We're next. It won't take more than ten minutes. We can get it done fast. Once we’re officially married, you can go and deal with whatever’s so urgent. It won’t take long.” James was the CEO of his company, so he had full control over his schedule. That was why I said it like that, not thinking it would be a big deal. However, he just glanced at the screen, handed me the ticket with our number on it, and looked annoyed. “I can marry you anytime,” he said. “But right now, I’ve got something I need to take care of. Don’t make a fuss.”