Valyrian Language Translator

18+ Explicit Content | Strongly Suggested for Reader Discretion Content Warnings: This collection contains strong adult language, age-gap dynamics, morally dubious characters, rough encounters, and explicit sexual scenes, definitely not for the weak of heart. Some certain desires are meant to remain hidden, there should be none of them. However, nothing is off-limits in these stories. Dirty Desires is an anthology of unvarnished, erotic stories in which temptation rules, control is challenged, and rules are broken. From forbidden lovers to impossible attractions, from hidden lusts to dangerous indulgences, every story pushes the boundaries. They are mischievous, they're mistaken, they are everything you have been longing to experience.

“Spread that tight little pussy for me. It’s mine tonight,” Callum growled in my ear as he slammed into me. “Yes. Claim me. Use me. Don’t stop.” A strangled moan ripped out of me. He drove so hard I could barely breathe. My nails ripped at his shoulders, desperate to hold on, when another hand yanked my hair back. My mouth fell open, and a second cock rammed into my throat. I gagged as spit streamed down my chin. A third voice cracked across me with a sharp smack to my ass, the sting making me cry out. “Good slut. Take it all. You’re nothing but our toy tonight.” Tears blurred my vision and my throat burned raw. My pussy clenched tight around Callum with every brutal drive. I gasped out the only words I had left. “Yes… Daddies. I’ll take everything." •••••••••••••••••• CLAIM ME, DADDIES isn’t here to tease. It drags you to your knees, rips you open, and leaves you begging for more. Inside, you’ll find hotel-room threesomes that leave no hole untouched, office domination that strips away every ounce of control, step-daddy cravings that cross every line, brutal gangbangs that push you past your limits, lesbian hookups that turn sweet into savage, gay encounters that shatter taboos, and roleplay so filthy it will stain your imagination. Every story is built to ruin you in the best way. This collection is for adults only, 18 and over. It contains explicit sex,raw language, taboo roleplay, and extreme scenarios. All stories are pure fiction and meant for erotic entertainment. If you’re under 18, stop reading now.

Valentina Moretti is the Don the Italian Mafia. Smart and formidable, surviving a male dominated environment, overcoming tremendous challenges. Trained from a young age to be a deadly assassin, she commands respect wherever she goes. She seemingly has everything, until her father decides to arrange her marriage. Luca Delgado is the head of the American Mafia. He is a ruthless and cold individual. He understands the rules of the game perfectly and will do anything to achieve victory, including breaking others without hesitation. Their forced marriage is a cruel twist of fate. Will these two ruthless individuals find comfort in one another, or will they end up destroying each other? "I don’t remember agreeing to play strip poker," she remarked. Her lips formed a slight frown, but her eyes sparkled with playfulness. She realized she couldn't outmatch me in this game. "Are you giving up? Are you a coward? " I taunted, aiming to provoke her. Her lips quivered before she pressed them firmly together. The richness of her eye color intensified as she offered a sly grin. She began shuffling cards and removed one of her sandals. Great. We’re taking the long route. She held it up, letting it dangle from her finger before casually tossing it aside. She raised an eyebrow at me, clearly challenging me. I was pleased to know I had touched a nerve. Just as I expected. BE AWARE: Trigger warnings: MATURE CONTENT 18+ (SMUT) SWEARING SELF HARM/SUICIDE (REFERENCES) LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM /SUICIDE (REFERENCES) BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.