Re Zero Gore

Welcome to the anthology that will leave you soaked, shaking, and begging to be next. Twisted women who thought they could walk away untouched. Possessive, unhinged men who made sure they never would. These men come for you in the dark corners of your life. These men don’t ask. They take. They take you until your thighs shake and your voice breaks. They edge you with filthy touches until you’re begging for the penetration they withhold just to watch you break. And the women? They’re not sweet innocents anymore. They’re bad girls who teased too hard, virgins who secretly ached to be wrecked, heartbroken sluts who spread for revenge, secretaries who sabotage just to feel the whip of punishment, students who hack grades to earn a professor’s cruel cock. They fight. They curse. They hate how much they crave it. Then they shatter—screaming, dripping, marked, owned. Every story drips with taboo heat: Men that don’t share unless they decide you’re worth passing around. Women that don’t escape, but beg to be ruined again. Warning: If you like romance with feelings and fade-to-black, run now. If you want to be left soaked, aching, and haunted by possessive daddies who wreck you senseless and call you their filthy little slut… Open the book. Spread your legs. Let them ruin you. One touch. One bite. One night… and you’re ruined for anyone else. One page in, and you’ll be touching yourself like the desperate slvt you were born to be. EXTREME CONTENT WARNING!!! This anthology is pure, unfiltered dark erotica. If you are triggered by any of the following, STOP READING Dubious/non-consensual consent Age gaps Voyeurism Step-family/taboo Daddy kink & heavy degradation Public sex Gangbangs, double/triple penetration, reverse harems BDSM

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

Liam, my stepbrother, has been a pain in the rear for three years. We fight every time we talk. Every time we see each other, we remember that moment, which we never talk about. The one in the yard behind where our parents had their wedding dinner. The event that almost made everything bad. Our parents are now going for a trip to celebrate their first anniversary, leaving us all alone in the house. Simple plan: we'll stay on different sides, ignore each other, and act like we're working. But then there's a fire on my side of the house, and all of a sudden I have to share a floor, a hallway, and a wall that is too thin to be safe with him. The worst times are at night. I hear him. I can feel him. And every disagreement ends too close. Every stare stays too long. Every breath turns into heat I can’t escape. We’re supposed to protect our parents’ happiness. We’re supposed to act like good brothers. But how do you pretend you hate someone when all you want is to drag him into your bed? Then the holidays arrive with our whole extended family. We’re forced to play perfect boys while nearly pulling each other apart behind locked doors. And just when I think things can’t get worse, Liam’s cheating ex shows up begging to take him back. The jealousy nearly wrecks me… and reveals everything. But the real disaster hits one night with a broken condom and a hurried hospital visit. Two scary weeks that make us imagine a life we’re not supposed to want. A future that feels too good to lose. The test is negative. But the damage is done. We want each other.

There's literally no one that you can love more than your childhood best friend. You shared baths, ice cream, lunches, everything together and even a bed at times, even when it was in secrecy. Feyi and Ayo didn't have it any different, but they'd been separated for a really long time, so what really changes after that? What happens when you're just...split into North and South with no explanation. And now you're back together, gathering butterflies in your stomach and teasing with small touches, glances and nicknames.

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

It was the first night we spent together as a married couple. When my husband insisted that the hotel manager clean our bed for us, she cried and said to him, "You're asking me to clean up after the two of you made love! How heartbroken do you want me to be before you're finally satisfied?" My husband claimed not to know that the manager was his ex-girlfriend, but when the woman threw a kettle of hot water and left, he chased after her instead of coming to my aid.

"She needs me, Alyne. I've told you thousand times. Don't be selfish!" The boy's hand reached the girl's hand in front of him. "We're both struggling, Alyne," the boy continued, trying to soften his voice. The girl nodded harshly causing the tears that welled up in her eyes to fall. "Yeah, Herrin. We're both struggling." "I struggled desperately to beat my ego to maintain our relationship. And you ..." "You struggled desperately to win over your ego to end our relationship."

My grandmother only knows how to draw one thing—infants. They're ugly, but people line up to buy the paintings. I watch as she takes those women into unlit rooms. Then, their bloodcurdling screams will ring out. Oddly enough, they always thank my grandmother when they're leaving. One day, I finally find out what exactly my grandmother paints. I discover the truth when I see an infant crawl out of one of the women's bellies—it looks just like the one my grandmother has painted.

Love is a beautiful feeling. It's uncontrollable, gentle, satisfying and worth living up for. It is crazy when you fall for someone you shouldn’t have, especially when you’re already engaged to someone. True love? Friendship? Likeness? Crush? All of these leave you in awe when you get stuck between two people. When mistakenly you commit your life to a wrong person and fall for the right one, you’re left in a fix and the only thing left to do is leave it to fate.

On the eve of his Alpha succession ceremony, my fiancé Hunter prepared lavish gifts for all the distinguished guests and had Freya distribute them. Freya obliged with a smile. Then, when she reached me, her gaze swept over me with nothing but contempt. “Move aside. This isn’t for you.” She tossed an exile notice at my face. “You’re just a she-wolf who likes to seduce. Think you deserve an Alpha’s gift? Dream on. You’re not welcome here. Get out of our pack!” At that moment, the guests opened the gift boxes Freya handed out. Inside, alongside a rare blue moonstone, were photos of me in intimate moments with other Alpha males from different packs. In an instant, I became the pack’s traitorous, unfaithful woman. My face darkened as I stared at Hunter. “You’re really going to exile me from the pack?”