Story Writer

MATURED CONTENTS 😉 EVERY DIRTY STORIES YOU CAN THINK OF🙃 Uea, a lazy writer, suddenly found himself in his dirty short stories as the main character. In EXCLUSIVELY HIS, the main character is lustful, and the male lead got his closet filled with all sorts of kinky toys and styles. Vampire sex story, dragon? Merman? Beastman? Billionaire? Werewolf? Harem? Raw and intense... Uea plunged himself into a lustful ride. But what is the endgame? Love or departure? Uea will have to choose___ even if it brings pain.

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

Alexis Diaz is a sales representative who attends a conference at a hotel in a remote area. While attending a reception, she meets a mysterious and charming billionaire named Max, who is a werewolf. They are both attracted to each other and share a passionate one-night stand. The next morning, Alexis leaves without saying goodbye, feeling overwhelmed by her emotions. Max realizes Alexis could be his mate, as he was drunk and doesn’tremember whether or not he marked her. The details of the night are fuzzy except he realizes his drink might have been laced by an aphrodisiac for mates. He only remembers her honey/ginger hair Alexis goes through some roughening emotions/changes(heat intolerance/heightened sex drive including sex dreams about the mysterious stranger) but eventually gets used to it, she also gets a new scar in the place she thought she had a hickey that refuses to go. A month or two later, Alexis is sent to pitch her company's product to Max's business. When Max sees her again, he realizes that he can't forget about her and feels drawn to her, she feels the mark on her neck burning as she feels and undeniable sexual tension between them. During the meeting, Max and Alexis try to maintain a professional demeanor as they are with others but the chemistry between them explodes the moment they are alone. Alexis runs away again. Max searches for her and finds her this time around at her workplace where he realizes he can hear two heartbeats. What happens when Alexis decide to runaway? How would Alexis handle the truth of her existence? How would Max save his pack without losing the most important part of his life, Alexis and their baby? Find out in this intriguing story, Alpha's girl.

A writer who knows every popular trope of werewolf stories. After her relationship with her boyfriend and parents fell apart, she planned to create her own stories and wished for her story to become a hit. She fell unconscious in front of her laptop in the middle of reading the novel and transmigrated into the novel's world. She becomes Aesthelia Rasc, a warrior who has an obsession with the alpha's heir, Gior Frauzon. Aesthelia refused to accept the fact that there was a relationship blooming between Gior and Merideth Reiss, the female lead. Aesthelia fought Merideth to win over Gior, until she died. Now, the writer who became Aesthelia wants to survive as much as she can until she figures out how to come back to her own world. She will do everything to avoid her fated death, for her own survival. It is hard to turn the 'PAGES' when you know what will happen next.

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

A sharp pull by my wrist bought me back to the wall. I hold my breath for a moment. "what the hell" I cussed. "Shh, baby girl" he exclaimed. I cringed with the endearment he used. He brought his face near to my face. His breath is fanning all over my lips. It raised my heartbeat to a different level. It must be heard by him also. His smirk face saying it all. His eyes are gazing my lips and he started closing the small gap we have between our lips to be mingled into one. Sensing his intentions I closed my eyes & moved my face to the left. He stopped right away & increase the gap between us which I really appreciate but the hold of his hand on my wrist is very tight. It started paining me slowly. "Now listen to me very carefully, we might be lawfully wedded husband & wife. But you are nothing to me. I have only married you because of my doll" he said rudely to me. I forcefully release my hand from his hulk like grip which resulted into breaking my bangles & a piece of glass cut into my hand. It hurt me like hell. There must be a big cut in my hand. Ignoring the pain in my hand. I showed my other hand finger towards him and said "even I was not interested in this marriage. I am kind of forced into this" Which I am not, my subconscious mocked me. But I won’t give him that satisfaction. Although I was not forced but I had no other option than to accept this marriage. _______________________ This is the story of Payal Mehra and Kabir Khurana who are bound by vows in the sacred bond of marriage which was not in their to do list. But yet they are.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom. The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all. Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers. "Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?" Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions. "Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?" When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door. I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home. I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed. So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family. "Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

Susan Miller, my father's caretaker, often complains that the supplements keep running out. The wild kingroots that are worth 500 thousand dollars are completely used up even though Susan has only made soup with them twice in a row. As I filter through the medicinal residue with a frown on my face, Susan sinks down to her knees and begins slapping herself. "They must have melted in the soup because of my lack of attention! Please dock my pay, Ms. Lawson, but please don't fire me!" But that night, I come across a post uploaded by Susan's son, Roman Cox, on Instagram. "Hi everyone! Today, I'm challenging myself to eat two wild kingroots in one go!" When I see Roman picking up a familiar-lookng giftbox, I feel my temper flaring instantly. Then, I order a packet of potent aphrodisiacs meant for animals on the spot. It turns out that Roman intends to chug down my prized Romanee-Conti in the next episode of his stream. Well then, I'll let him have his feel of drinking something else!