Hood Gojo Novels & Stories

During the two months that I was away for a competition, my neighbors insulted me in the neighborhood’s common group chat. [The girl living on the ninth floor, you look like a decent girl. Why are you bringing so many men back home every day?] [Can you moan a little softer? I don’t care if you’re a sex worker, but if you keep making loud noises until midnight, don’t blame me for calling the police!] [Don’t call the police yet. I haven’t had my turn. How much are you charging, Charlene?] My heart sank. Before I left for my competition, I had asked my boyfriend, Jacob Smith, to take care of my luxury river-view apartment. That way, he could keep an eye on my expensive paintings. What was happening? I rushed home in confusion, but when I opened the door, I was further dumbfounded. My 3,000-square-foot apartment had been partitioned into 30 rooms. Meanwhile, Jacob’s childhood friend, Prissy Black, was holding a string of keys as she collected rent money. When they saw me, everyone started laughing. “What? Are you here to rent from Prissy after learning that she’s providing cheap rooms in such a pristine location? “Too bad everyone knows that you’re eyeing her boyfriend. You won’t be able to benefit from doing such a thing!” I was extremely furious as I approached Jacob to talk about it. However, he told me that it was Prissy’s dream to be a landlady. He asked me not to pay it any mind and to treat it as doing a good deed. “You’re rich anyway. Don’t be so calculative. Everyone’s happy now, so what’s wrong with that?” The keys tinkled in Prissy’s hand as if they were taunting me. “This house doesn’t welcome stray animals like you. You have yourself to blame for not having such a nice boyfriend.” The two of them acted all lovey-dovey in front of me, and I immediately called the police. “Someone’s trespassing on my property, and my painting that’s worth 15 million dollars has gone missing. What type of punishment would this entail?”

On the night Wynnie Moore is done recovering from childbirth, she suddenly brings up the traumatic nightmare that I never wish to revisit. "Actually, the person who imprisoned and assaulted you five years ago was Margaret Silva." Margaret is Logan Jameson's wife, and Logan is the adopted younger brother she raised. My mind goes blank as I blurt, "What?" Wynnie continues as if she's discussing something insignificant. "Back then, Logan found out he was infertile. His mother-in-law never liked him to begin with. To help him secure his position in the Silva family, I agreed to his proposal that you would provide the sperm. "Meanwhile, Margaret had always harbored feelings for you. So..." It turns out the three of them have worked together to imprison and assault me over the course of a few days until Margaret becomes pregnant. I try hard to suppress the nauseous sensation rising in the back of my throat. My lips tremble as I ask shakily, "Why are you telling me this now?" Wynnie lets out a long sigh, as if a burden she's carried for years has finally been lifted. She says, "I've been keeping this a secret for five years. It's exhausting. Also, I've already made up for the child that I once owed you. They say a man takes on a much softer character after becoming a father. Well, that certainly seems to be the case. "You're not losing your temper like you used to. You've finally become calmer and more agreeable." I force a strained and ugly smile. She has no idea that I haven't mellowed down the slightest. It's just that I have a secret that I've never revealed to her too.

My boyfriend, Sam Gibson, had a childhood best friend named Tina Lincoln. She was a star medical student. On the day Sam and I were supposed to get our marriage license, Tina took one look at the tight top I was wearing and flat-out claimed I had been sleeping around for years. She pointed at my chest with obvious disgust. “If men hadn’t been all over you, there’s no way your breasts would be this big.” Sam believed her completely. He started cursing at me, calling me a slut who had sleep with anyone, and refused to go through with the marriage license. I tried over and over to explain, but Tina just sneered at me. “People may be more open-minded these days, but that doesn’t mean you can sell your body and make your chest that big.” She used me as some kind of “example,” started a livestream to lecture people online, and exposed all my personal information. After that, strangers kept sending me disgusting, harassing messages, asking how much I charged for a night. Some even followed me and tried to force themselves on me. I begged her to clear things up for me, but she just shrugged and said, “If you never did that kind of thing, why would people be asking you?” In the end, I was assaulted and killed. And she went on to become a nationally famous influencer doctor, gaining fame and money at the same time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was supposed to get my marriage license with Sam.

After getting drunk, my husband’s childhood sweetheart drove and ran over my seventy-year-old mother, crushing her into a mangled corpse. She died on the spot. However, my CEO husband, Jason, insisted on signing a settlement on her behalf. “My mother-in-law was committing insurance fraud. She deliberately lay under the tires. She should bear full responsibility.” Not only did he get his childhood sweetheart, Olivia, cleared of all charges, but he also transferred the 10,000,000-dollar insurance payout from my mother to her as emotional damages. “Olivia and I grew up together. I cannot just watch her go to prison and ruin her life. Be reasonable and stop making a fuss.” After leaving the police station, Olivia made a post on social media. [Jason standing up for me was so amazing. Childhood sweethearts really are forever family!] Jason liked her post right in front of me. I remained terrifyingly calm. “Jason, let us get a divorce.” He scoffed. “You’re just saying that to make me comfort you, right? Megan, you are 30 years old. Can you stop being childish?” I had brought up divorce countless times, and he never believed I would truly leave. What he did not know was that among the case documents he had just signed, there was a divorce agreement. He had already signed it himself.

At our daughter’s three-month milestone party, my husband Garrett’s so-called "best friend" publicly humiliated me. “Hey, Vivian. I heard you're a little loose down there after popping out the kid.” "If it's that bad, you better get some tightening surgery quick—don't wanna mess up your marriage vibes!" Garrett shot her a playful glare and snapped, "Knock it off, Scarlett! You can't just say whatever pops into your head." Then he turned to me with a breezy shrug. "She's just like that—total tomboy. We grew up together; she means no harm." Scarlett shook her half-exposed breast and pouted, "Oh, come on, don't take it personally, Vivian. Honestly, I'm kind of jealous of you." "See, my problem is the opposite. I'm way too tight—hurts like hell during my period. No clue who's gonna get lucky with this later." Then she cut her eyes toward Garrett with a playful wink. " Oh right, you've tried it before, haven't you?" The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes drifted toward me, barely concealing their curiosity. I smiled, set down my wine glass, and looked at Scarlett with fake concern. "That's strange. I don't remember making it that tight when I did your surgery."

The Filthiest Collection You'll Ever Read WARNING: 18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT They say some lines should never be crossed. This collection crosses every single one. Behind the altar, Father Michael discovers Sister Claire on her knees—but not in prayer. His fourteen-inch cock and her broken vows create the most sinful confession the church has ever witnessed. In the strip club's champagne room, ownership takes on new meaning when the boss claims his newest dancer in ways that blur every professional boundary. Money talks. His fifteen inches scream. The megachurch reverend with the monstrous sixteen-inch secret destroys his young secretary across his Bible-covered desk while his wife leads worship downstairs. Hypocrisy has never been so hard. Married bosses fuck their secretaries on desks still warm from morning meetings. Divorce lawyers claim vulnerable clients on the same couch where they signed papers. Addiction counselors enable relapses—the sexual kind. Therapists finally act on years of inappropriate desire when the final session becomes anything but professional. From nuns breaking vows to brides cheating the night before their weddings, from politicians risking everything to doctors violating every oath—these twenty stories explore the darkest desires we're told to suppress. Wedding rings stay on. Consequences are real. The sex is brutal, explicit, and described in devastating detail. Size matters—twelve to sixteen inches of it—and these encounters leave permanent marks on bodies and souls. No redemption. No excuses. No limits. Just raw, forbidden passion that destroys everything in its path. Are you brave enough to read what shouldn't be written?

My childhood sweetheart hated me for tearing him away from the Beta's daughter, and he hated that my father was the pack's Alpha. My father not only sent the woman my childhood sweetheart loved off to another pack to be their Luna, he even refused to let him reject the mate bond that tied us together. For seven years after the marking, he wept every single night. "The North is bitter and brutal. How will Gianna ever survive there?" But to me, the woman he lived beside every day, he had only this to say. "Why did the Moon Goddess bind us together? I don't care about Alpha blood at all..." "If I could, I'd wish I had never met you!" Every night we shared one bed, yet our hearts felt miles apart. For Gianna's sake, he fought against the pull of fate itself. But the day the vampires attacked the pack, he shielded me behind him. Claws tore through fur, fangs sank into his forearm, and a cold silver dagger buried itself in his heart. His scalding blood splashed across me. I tried to drag him to the statue of the Moon Goddess, but he shoved me away without a moment's hesitation. "I've already failed the woman I love in this life. I won't fail the pack too." "Matilda, the bond between us is finally broken. In the next life, may we each get what we truly want..." With that, his wolf faded into nothing. The pack was destroyed, and I would not go on living in a world without it. That day I cut out my own heart with a silver blade, and as the Alpha's daughter, I shielded the pack's people with my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they chose who would be sent north to marry. "Father, I'm willing to go to the North and become the Luna of its Alpha." This time, I'll let them have their happiness, and I'll claim my own!

On my birthday, my husband of five years accompanied his childhood sweetheart to celebrate her dog's birthday. Avery Simpson published a loving post: [The happiest baby in the world. Mom and Dad will be with you. I hope you're always happy.] Seeing the words "Mom and Dad", I commented a question mark with confusion. The next moment, I found myself blocked. Charles Logan called me and lashed out at me. "Why do you always have to mess things up at the worse possible time? You're worse than a dog. How despicable!" Shortly after, Avery changed her profile picture to one of her and Charles, hands intertwined. When I saw the obvious provocation, I didn't get angry like before. That's because I had already made up my mind to get a divorce.

When I got into a car accident, Carter was busy throwing a birthday party for his assistant. I was scrolling through my phone and somehow ended up tapping on the Love Pawnshop. Without really thinking, I hit the button to pawn my love. Five days later, the pawnshop took back every bit of love I had left to give, and there he was, Carter, on his knees, crying his heart out, begging me for another shot. But the thing is, once love is pawned, it’s almost impossible to get back.

Imagine you planned to have your boyfriend kidnapped, delivered to your blindfolded and gagged. You fuck him, and pull the hood off after, only to be face to face with a stranger. That stranger, you quickly lean, is the Don of the Cosa Nostra. He's all too pleased to have taken part in your kidnap fantasy.