Smug Synonym

Book 1: One night. One mistake. One man I should have never touched. I lived in my sister’s shadow all my life, the overlooked daughter, the forgotten fiancée. Then she came home… with the man who once promised me forever. I didn’t know he was hers now. I didn’t plan to sleep with her ex. But the truth always finds its way out, along with the secret I’m carrying. He was mine first. Now he belongs to her… And I might be having my sister's ex's his baby. ********************************************** Book 2: Random Wetness (Started from Chapter 129): Blurb: What would you do if, in the middle of a wild party, just trying to dance your heartbreak away over a colleague you secretly crave, then a stranger grabbed you from behind, bent you over so fast and started fucking. Just when you wanted to raise your voice, you started enjoying the pleasure….you leaving you too weak to stand? Yeah. That happened to me. Crushing on the dangerously handsome Kaelon Draven, who doesn’t even know I exist, has driven me to some very reckless choices: Like hiring a smug love doctor to cure my obsession. Like disguising myself as a man just to land a job in his company. Now the same stranger from that night keeps showing up… touching me like he owns me… making me feel things I shouldn’t. Things that burn. Things that terrify me. Oh, and did I mention my new boss? Yeah, we hate each other. At least, that’s what we keep telling ourselves. Will something crazy happen between us

"Let's get a divorce." Renna had said to her treacherous husband, Hayes Campbell, walking in on him with not one of his numerous mistresses that she knew of, but her sister, this time. Renna thought divorcing him would be the end of her misery but what about her father? The vicious man who she grew up to him finding fault in everything she did, she was his prodigal daughter while Nadia, her sister, was his favorite, despite how frequently she strayed. He disowned her right after the divorce and pushed her into the street. Divorced, disowned, and critically ill, Renna passed out on the street of New York. Renna thought she was dead until she opened her eyes in a hospital, and her ex-husband's uncle beside her. "Hey, kitten." He winked. "Don't call me that." Renna spat. "Fine, does Mrs Campbell sound better?" "Not that either," she mumbled. "Hayes and I are getting divorced." He was unusually quiet for a while, and when Renna looked up to his face, he had a smug smirk plastered all over. "Well, I guess that changes everything then." "What does that even..." "Marry me." "What?" "I will offer you a life every single lady on earth will be jealous of, kitten, the world will be at your feet, including your ex-husband, all you have to do is say yes." His name is Landon; Hayes's uncle and biggest threat. No one knew the mystery behind his hatred for Hayes. The business deals that Hayes wanted, he took them; Hayes popularity and influential spot in the country, he took that away, and now he has come for her. But not just as a game.

"Sex slave? Is that what you thought?" "What else would you have dragged me here for?" I said, my voice trembling. He took a deep breath and looked me over, from head to toe, with an assessing expression that made me shrink back. "Don’t flatter yourself, female. You don’t meet the requirements to be one of my sex slaves." "Oh yeah? And what would those be?" He gave me that same smug, evaluating look again, but this time I puffed out my chest—and he seemed to notice, even if just for a second. "The first is being attractive." "What? Did you just call me ugly?" "Does it matter?" "Of course it matters! First of all, you're wrong! I’m not ugly, and I do meet all the requirements to be a sex slave!" — By the goddess, what was I saying? Marius looked at me, visibly confused, until he asked: "Why does it sound like you’re applying for the position?" Jane is an orphaned, rejected she-wolf who dreams of receiving her wolf and leaving the orphanage behind. One night, when she goes to a party with her friend, she finds herself in danger after realizing there is no party only three wolves with the worst intentions. Everything changes when the feared and cruel Marius, a wolf accused of massacring his own pack in the past, saves her. Or rather kidnaps her. Marius makes it clear: Jane will be his prisoner for one year, until she receives her wolf and can give him what he wants. But how can Jane trust a killer? And what is she supposed to do with the wild attraction they both feel, trapped together in an isolated cabin?

COMPLETED. WARNING: Mature Contents! A game of hate that unexpectedly turns into a relationship — and ends with them in each other's bed, all because of a deal. *** "Dolling you comes with an exchange doll." Kinagat ko ang ibabang labi ko para pigilan ang sarili kong humalinghing dahil sa pagdikit ng daliri n'ya sa gilid ng dibdib ko. He's teasing me. "W-What do you w-want," nauutal kong tanong sa kanya. "Be my partner in bed." W-What?!" "Come on. I'll make sure that boys will kneel before you and your beauty. Pennie will surely face her defeat against you," pahayag ni Wayde. Kung noon ay wala akong pakialam sa pangbu-bully at pagpapahiya sa akin ni Pennie dahil lang sa pagiging nerd at boring ko, ngayon ay gusto ko nang tumayo at patulan s'ya. Hindi ko na papalampasin pa ang mga pinaggagawa n'ya. Stealing my ex-boyfriend will be her last game. Partner in bed? Ibigsabihin lang nun ay kay Wayde rin ang bagsak ng virginity ko. Ang baklang 'to? Nasaan na ang sinabi ko kagabi na sa lalaking papakasalan ko lang mapupunta ang v-card ko? *** Wayde Jhon Johnsons. The gay guy who loves calling me doll — no, voodoo doll. My bully. My nightmare wrapped in sarcasm and smug grins. After years of hating him, I never thought I’d be the one asking for his help. But nothing comes for free. And in exchange... I became his partner. In bed.

“Who would have thought goody two shoes Tatiana Olivera is a nasty sl*t who fantasies about f*ck*ng her step brother?” Hasan continues his teasing. He inserts in middle finger in my mouth and I greedily s*ck on it, picturing it to be his c*ck. Hasan’s mouth parts open, his brows cresting as he watches me s*ck his middle finger like a kid sucking on a candy cane. I frowned when he pulled out his middle finger. He grabs my chin with a fierceness that sent me on edge. “Open your mouth.” He orders and I obey. He takes in a deep breath as though calming himself and before I knew it, hot liquid drops into my mouth. Did.. did he just spit in my mouth? It tastes divine. It tastes like him. And I want more. “Swallow.” I meet his gaze as I gulp down his saliva. A proud smile appears on his face. “There’s my good little sl*t.” ***** I hate Hasan Olivera. I can’t stand him. The way he walks into the room like he owns the place, the smug smirk that says he already knows what I am thinking. He’s insufferably cocky, sharp-tongued, insanely hot and fully aware of it. And those eyes? Dark, knowing, endlessly amused by the fact that, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I’m completely drawn to him. I want him to f*ck me. I want him to claim me. I want him to be mine because I belong to him. But he's my step brother. And I hate my step brother. -------

My daughter-in-law cheated on my son behind his back, and I caught her. When I confronted her, she turned the tables on me, accusing me instead. I told my son everything exactly as it happened, but she broke down crying and accused me of bullying her. "Ever since I married into the Simmons family, you've never been happy with me," she sobbed. "If I’d known you’d slander me like this, I would’ve been better off dead!" She attempted to hurt herself to prove her innocence, but my son stopped her. "Mom, how could you accuse my wife like that? You're my own mother, but this is too much!" he shouted. Furious, he moved out with her. Later, I fell gravely ill and begged my son to come see me one last time. When he finally arrived, he brought her with him. To my horror, they removed my oxygen tube. As I struggled to breathe, I heard her smug voice whisper in my ear: "Old hag, if it weren't for you accusing me of cheating, Herman and I wouldn’t have gotten your inheritance so quickly!" She laughed coldly. "Oh, and next time you accuse someone, make sure you have evidence. Did you really think your word alone could ruin me?" I died choking on my final breath. Afterward, they lived happily, spending my money without a care in the world. But then, I woke up. It was the day I caught her cheating again. This time, I went straight to work. I replaced the lubricant at home with industrial-strength glue. She wanted proof? Fine. I’d give her proof.

The humiliation clung to my skin like a stain I couldn’t wash away. With trembling hands, I pulled my clothes back on, desperate to leave the room, to put as much distance as I could between me and this hell. But as I reached for the door, Chris’s voice called after me, smug satisfaction lacing his words. “You’re not so bad, Camilla,” he taunted, turning to Tyson. “What do you think, future Alpha? Do you mind if I visit a little more often?” Tyson’s face was a mask of cold fury as he looked at me, his pride and ego burning from the knowledge that his mate was a lowly omega. He stared me down, a sneer twisting his lips as he spoke. “I, Tyson Woods of the Two Moons pack, reject you, Camilla, as my mate.” His words struck me like a blade. “Accept it or don’t. I don’t care.” **** Turning eighteen was supposed to change everything. I should have felt my wolf awaken, should have finally belonged to my pack. Instead, all I got was silence—the same empty, gnawing silence that’s haunted me since the day I realized I’d always be the runt, the omega no one cares about. When I met my mate, I thought it might finally be different. But Tyson Woods, my so-called fated mate, didn’t just reject me—he destroyed me, making it clear I was nothing but a stain on his pride. Running away was my only choice, even if it meant crossing into enemy territory. Now I’m trapped, claimed by Alpha Ryker—a man as cold and unyielding as the forest that swallowed me up. He’s dangerous, feared by every wolf on this side of the border,

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him

I stared down at the contract, a wave of defiance bubbling up in me. I turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. "I never asked for your help," I said, "I would've found a way to save my mother on my own. You may think you own me, but I'd rather die than marry you." A slow smile crept across his face, a smug, knowing look that sent a chill down my spine. He knew exactly what I was thinking, as if my resistance only entertained him. "Look at me," he commanded. I reluctantly turned back, locking eyes with him. His face had shifted, his expression darkened, and for the first time, true fury was etched in his eyes. "I’ll count to ten," he said, "If that contract isn’t signed by the time I reach ten, I’ll make the same call I made to pay those bills. Only this time, the instructions will be different. Your mother... your sister…they’ll both be gone." He took a breath, settling back as if the threat were a mere matter of routine. "So… ONE!!" I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Could he be bluffing? No, I'd seen him kill before, seen how casually he turned life and death into sports. "FOUR," he counted. My hands started to shake. What could I do? If I signed, I'd be bound to him forever, trapped as his wife. But if I didn’t... my mother and sister’s lives hung in the balance. "SEVEN." I closed my eyes, fighting the panic rising in my chest. He wouldn’t do it, I told myself. He couldn’t be that monstrous. But even as I thought it, the doubt crept in. I wasn’t sure. Then, he hit "TEN" himself