BonitaAJ

(Y/N) and Jack were already chosen to be guardians before they died. They were even a young couple before the incident. They were expecting a baby soon as well. But one day as Jack was playing with his younger sister he fell in ice and died trying to save her. (Y/N) died as well, she saved a young child from getting hit by a drunk driver. They both wake up hundreds of years later with a job to protect children. Jack as the Guardian of Fun and (Y/N) as the Guardian of Imagination, she gave children their imagination and beliefs. They both remembered one another face and were determined to find each other. When they reunited at North's workshop she was told the news. She was pregnant, and she didn't know what the baby would turn out to be. Book cover made by black shadows

My name is Alyaez Turner and I never wanted a mate. All I wanted was to leave my mother and start a new pack, a fresh start for me and I knew I wanted this which is why I ask myself the same question every damn day. Why the hell did I attend the mating ball? Then I think back to myself, if I hadn't gone, I would never have met the love of my life and learned many things about my life. All I can say now is that I don't regret attending because now I am His Luna.

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

"Always." That was the pact. Ava, Ethan, and Jax had their entire future mapped out: University of California, Westwood, together, a perfect, unbreakable trio. Then Chloe Evans arrived. Sweet, charming, and seemingly innocent, she systematically dismantled Ava's life-from subtly stealing credit for her work to "accidentally" wearing Ava' s prom dress and grandmother's heirloom necklace. Ethan and Jax, Ava's childhood best friends, not only stood by but actively defended Chloe, constantly dismissing Ava's pain and valid concerns. "Don't be so dramatic, Ava," became their infuriating mantra. The final betrayal came at a bonfire when Chloe feigned a "trip" and intentionally seared Ava's face with a burning marshmallow. Yet, still, Ethan and Jax rushed to Chloe's side, pleading, "It was an accident! Forgive her, for our sakes!" Ava's heart turned to ice. This wasn't merely a physical burn; it was the searing truth of their blindness, their utter betrayal. They chose Chloe, every single time. Their "always" was a bitter, self-serving lie. Lying in that hospital bed, the sting of the burn a stark reminder, Ava made her choice. She closed the UCW application, opened a new tab, and clicked "Submit" on Yale. This wasn't just a school; it was an escape. She was charting a new path, alone and finally free.

The Montauk Highway rain slammed against our windshield, just like my stomach cramped with familiar, sharp pain. Marcus drove, his knuckles white, until his phone flashed 'Izzy.' My husband, always her loyal puppy, was gone in a flash. "Ellie, call an Uber. Izzy needs me," he' d declared, abandoning me sick and alone on that dark road. It was the ninth time Marcus chose his ex-girlfriend over me, his wife. The 'ninth goodbye' in a cruel bet Izzy orchestrated years ago: "Nine times, Ellie. Nine. Then you walk away." Each incident a deeper cut: my anniversary dinner, my emergency surgery, my grandmother' s memorial. I was just his convenient rebound, his 'consolation prize,' a pawn in their twisted game. Days later, after an elevator accident left me shattered and hospitalized, Marcus cradled Izzy, his terror only for her. I finally saw it with chilling clarity: he never truly loved me. My marriage was a meticulously crafted lie, orchestrated by Izzy from college. My love for him, that foolish, stubborn hope, was finally drained, leaving only an aching void. But the game was over. I had already signed the divorce papers he carelessly overlooked, ready for my freedom. When Izzy later set a vicious trap to publicly shame me, accusing me of assault, a mysterious stranger stepped in, changing everything. This was the end of a nightmare, and the beginning of my true life.

My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.

The Forbidden Fruit always tastes sweeter. *** TABOO is a collection of forbidden erotic, steamy sex, romance stories. In this world of pleasure, fantasy becomes reality, and reality becomes an erotic sexual experience that you can't forget. Cheating husbands, lying priests, dirty stepdads, professors, stepbrothers, threesome with a total stranger, family orgies, and even horny nuns. Why don't you dive into this steamy collections just for you?

A complication of short s*x and f*ck tales designed to get you in the mood; the book contains explicit contents that are not suitable for readers younger than 18🔞 Dive into the world of sin with me and let’s explore together… Excerpt🔞 “Ugh, oh Zorro, this feels so f*cking good! Your cock is huge inside me! Ugh, oh my god, yes!” She pushed me back on the couch and fell on top of me kissing me, while still grinding her pussy on my cock. She was moaning in my ear and kissing on my neck, she knew exactly what turned me on. “Oh baby, I love your cock in me, it's so big, it fills me up so much, oh f*ck!” Even though I'm still a little buzzed I can feel everything that's going on around me, including her pussy as it smashes into my groin as she rides me. She sits back up and pushes her hands into my chest and bounces up and down on me. “F*ck me Zorro f*ck me! Oh god! F*ck! That big cock feels so f*cking good!”

My New York apartment smelled of lilies and roses, and my perfect Hamptons wedding was just three days away. Mark Olsen was everything I'd ever wanted: charming, successful, and devoted. I was about to become Mrs. Mark Olsen, stepping into the solid, perfect future we' d planned. Then a text from an unknown number shattered my world: "Can't believe you're still going through with this sham wedding. Last weekend was proof you belong with ME. Call it off like you promised, or I will. - T." My breath hitched. The words swam before my eyes. Mark was supposedly at a finance conference that very weekend, but my investigative dive into "T" (Tiffany Hayes, his high school ex) revealed glossy photos of her at his hotel, captured during his supposed conference. To add insult to injury, Tiffany was already engaged to another man, Alex Walker. I wasn't just betrayed; I was Mark's desperate fallback plan. Every cherished moment, every promise over our year-long engagement, felt like a sickening, elaborate lie. Why propose, why plan this lavish wedding, if I was just a convenient consolation prize? The thought was humiliating, the destruction of everything I believed our relationship was. My excitement curdled into icy rage. I wouldn't just call off the wedding. I decided to expose them both. This wouldn't be a celebration of love; it would be their public downfall, and I had just the stage for it: our pre-wedding brunch.

I stood at my engagement party, champagne clinking, Liam's arm around me. Life was perfect. My best friend, Chloe, was there, laughing too loudly, but it was our day. Then Liam took the stage. My heart beat faster, ready for his sweet words. Instead, he announced a "sudden, undeniable change." He said he couldn't marry me. His eyes landed on Chloe. "She's the one." The room gasped. My face burned as everyone stared. My fiancé and best friend, my closest people, publicly humiliated me, smirking as I fled town, stripped of dignity. Years later, having rebuilt my life and married Julian Thorne, a tech mogul, I returned to Lynwood for a quiet work trip. And I saw them. Liam, successful, and Chloe, still his trophy. They sneered, mocking my humble appearance, calling me a failure. When I mentioned my husband, they laughed, accusing me of delusions. Liam then attacked me, snatching Julian' s locket, the symbol of my new life. He broke my hand, screaming I was a liar, a thief. Then his goons dragged me to a dark storage room, locking me in. My hand throbbed, my heart ached with crushing despair. They even found Isabella, the kind staffer who tried to help me, silencing her. Chloe appeared, gloating, telling me I would confess I was a lunatic at their wedding tomorrow, to finally destroy me. How could two people be so cruel, so utterly intent on my ruination? I was trapped, shattered, every hope of justice gone. But as they dragged me into the ballroom, preparing to force my twisted confession, an unexpected presence in the crowd began to rise. Julian.

My wedding day. Hundreds of guests, media vans outside. The Sterling family chapel, hushed, expectant. I was finally marrying Jackson Sterling, scion of a powerful political dynasty, the man I’d loved since childhood. It was meant to be my perfect happily ever after. Then he walked in. Not alone. A garish woman clinging to his arm, a wide, triumphant smirk on her face. "The wedding is off," Jackson announced, his voice steady. "I'm with Brandy now. We're leaving." My world shattered. Jilted at the altar, in front of everyone. The whispers rose, a tidal wave of shock, pity, and cruel amusement. I was Emilia Winston, the society joke. The humiliation was a physical ache. Jackson and his new "wife" continued to taunt, publicly disgracing me and demanding my inheritance, treating me like discarded property. How could the boy I adored become this arrogant, callous stranger? The endless insults, the blatant disrespect from him and his new flame. They sought to finish what they started, to grind me into dust and claim everything. I was left exposed, vulnerable, and furious. Just as I thought I was utterly ruined, a figure stepped forward: Senator Alexander Sterling, Jackson’s formidable uncle. He held out a document, his steady gaze meeting mine. "Perhaps you would consider marrying me instead?" A madness. Or a miraculous lifeline. I said yes. And that was just the beginning.

My ticket to independence hung in my hand: a documentary grant to untamed Alaska. It was my chance to escape the gilded cage of my guardian Ethan' s estate and finally shed the unrequited love I secretly harbored for him. Then came the Tech Billionaires' Charity Gala, a final, suffocating night in his world. I watched his polished girlfriend, Isabella, subtly slip something into Ethan' s drink. My heart pounded – he was being drugged. I got him home, and in his drugged state, a night of desperate intimacy unfolded. Later, two pink lines confirmed a terrifying, impossible joy. But the next morning, Isabella appeared, perfectly coiffed, staging a cruel charade. Ethan, disoriented, dismissed me, his heart-shattering dismissal fueled by her lies. How could he be so blind? How could she be so utterly ruthless? My stomach clenched, the secret of our child now a bitter burden, conceived in deceit and dismissed by the man who should have been its father. Alaska was no longer just a career move; it was an urgent, desperate flight. I would vanish from his life, carry this secret alone, praying Isabella's shadow couldn't reach me, determined to build my own future.