Iruma X Clara Novels & Stories

After Bianca Vale and I were kidnapped at the same time, I watched Evan Pierce choose her. Even the kidnapper stared in surprise. After a long silence, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “How did you end up even worse off than me? Your own husband won’t save you. Damn it... why won’t this rope come loose?” In the end, he bit through the knot with his teeth and mumbled, “Forget it. You don’t have to go down with me. Just remember to run.” With that, he shoved me toward Evan and jumped from the high-rise, resigned to his fate. I thought I had been saved, only to meet Evan’s ice-cold eyes. “Only if you die can Bianca become legitimate. “Clara Shaw, you should have stepped aside a long time ago.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the engagement party where Evan and I first became engaged. Ignoring the depth of feeling in his eyes, I walked straight to the corner, where Miles Langford was focused on playing a match-three game. “Mr. Langford, how about we discuss a partnership?” After all, I was the one who had once lifted Evan to the top. Putting Miles in that same seat now would not be difficult.

Four years ago, Marcus Blackthorn rejected me at our Dragon bond ceremony. He chose Clara Linwood instead. Her bloodline carried the purity of an ancient dragon clan, and with her at his side, he could secure his claim as Lord Blackthorn. He told me to wait one year, promising that once his position was secure, the title of Lady Blackthorn would eventually be mine. Everyone laughed at me for believing I had ever been anything more than a useful promise. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, and I left without begging for a place in a future he had already denied me. I left his territory in silence and followed the Dragon Goddess’s sign to my second-chance mate, Caelan Frost. He was the Frost Dragon King, ruler of every dragon clan, and even a Black Dragon lord like Marcus had to bow before him. Four years later, I returned to Blackthorn Keep beside Caelan Frost, the Dragon King. Four years later, I returned to Blackthorn Keep beside Caelan Frost, the Dragon King. At the city gate, Marcus stopped me. He looked at my plain cloak, then threw a servant’s gray livery at my feet. “Stop pretending you have somewhere better to go,” he said. “My household happens to need a nursery maid. Take the work. It is the only future you have left.”

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

He dipped his head back between my thighs and placed his hand under my a*s, pulling my waist towards him. He began licking around the edges of my p**sy, closing in slowly to the center. He traced me with the very tip of his tongue until he could taste my nectar. He licked the entrance of the v*****l hole, sucking my juice like it was liquid sin, like he wanted to drown himself in it. Then he dragged his tongue back to my c**t stroking it. I didn’t move, I kept still, as if I did he might stop and I was scared of that. My chest just heaved, letting out the faintest of breaths. Another stroke of his tongue on my sweet spot, and a very quiet m**n bubbled out of my throat. He moved his tongue again, flicking with more pressure and I jolted like I had been electrocuted. I pushed my hips forward and completely enveloped his head between my thighs, my knees bending until my legs were locked behind his head, burying his head deeper into my wet p***y. My body tightened, not like I was about to c*m, but like he was easing all the pressure he had built up. Are you looking for the best e****ca stories? The perfect e**tica content that would keep you on edge wanting more? Search no more, you’ve found the perfect one. Turn the pages and read, if you dare! This is a compilation of extremely erotica content ranging from forbidden s*x between step family members, student and teacher, between best friends, gays and lesbians and so much more! Note: Do not read if you’re below 18 Extremely erotica content!

Once I begged for your love while our son drew his last breath. Now watch me take back everything you hold dear. The first time, I died on a rain-slicked road with my four-year-old's name on my lips and my husband's rejection still burning in my chest. Silas Vance took three years from me. Three years of existing like furniture in his mansion while he draped Clara over his arm at every gala, every interview, every moment that mattered. When our son needed him, really needed him he let my calls go to voicemail. Thirteen times. I counted. Our son didn't make it through the night. Neither did I. Then I opened my eyes. Two years earlier. Divorce papers on the nightstand. My son's laugh echoing from down the hall. This time, I won't beg. Won't wait. Won't shrink myself small enough to fit in the shadows he assigned me. This time, I'll become someone he doesn't recognize. Someone who smiles at his enemies, steals his deals, and dismantles his empire while he's still searching for his meek little wife. When he finally figures it out—when he's pounding on my door, begging for answers, desperate for a second chance? I'll hand him those signed papers and remind him: Some deaths are just the beginning.

Our Pack followed an ancient law: if a she-wolf wasn't bonded by the age of 23, the Pack had the right to assign her a mate, regardless of her will. Felix is my childhood sweetheart and fated mate, the Alpha of the Moonclaw Pack. But he postponed our bonding ceremony and is holding a mating ceremony with an Omega first, all because of that law. Felix pitied Omega, Valentina, who was already 22, afraid she would be matched with a bad mate. But he seemed to forget that after waiting for him for 5 years, I would turn 23 next month. My mother and I begged him to reconsider our mating ceremony only to be met with Felix's dilemma attitude: "You've waited this many years, what's a little longer?" "Besides me, who else would choose Valentina? Clara, you still have parents, but Valentina is poor, she only has me." "Please wait, after the mate bond ceremony with Valentina, I'll break it and then bond with you." Later, in order to prevent me from bonding with a slave, my mother hurriedly chose a mate for me. Coincidentally, my mate bond ceremony and Felix and Valentina's mate bond ceremony were on the same day. On the day I was being taken off in a luxury car, I passed by Felix handing him ceremonial flowers. When he saw me, he suddenly shifted into a wolf and blocked the car insane. Even after being hit and vomiting blood, he stared intensely at me and asked why I was wearing a wedding dress…

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

After his fated mate died, Alpha Killian Thorne spent ten years resenting me. I was the Omega healer he never chose—bound to him by duty, not love. A substitute. A scar on a bond neither of us asked for. No matter how deeply I healed his wounds, no matter how quietly I stayed by his side, all he ever said was: “If you really want to please me, Clara… then disappear.” But when death came charging, it wasn’t I who fell. He did. Bleeding out in my arms, Killian looked at me one last time and whispered: “If only I’d never met you…” At the funeral, his mother wept. “He should’ve been with Selena. I never should’ve let him mate with you.” His father’s glare cut through me. “Killian saved you three times. Why wasn’t it you in that grave?” Everyone regretted that he had bonded with me. Even I did, too. I was cast out of the pack with nothing— No title. No Luna severance. No den to call my own. And then… perhaps the Moon Goddess took pity on me. She gave me one final chance to rewrite fate. This time, I won’t beg for his love. This time, I won’t tether him to pain. This time, I’ll sever the bond before it begins. I could already hear the gears of fate turning, and this time, I would move first.

⚠️BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT🔞 🫧⋆｡˚ “If I were to have one more fucking chance, I’d pull you into my arms and kiss you like you’re the only light left in my wrecked soul, and love you so deeply that every shitty shadow of regret melts into forever burning in your eyes—God damn it, Lila, please let me have you again. I’d sell my soul to the devil and lay every fucking accomplishment at your feet… just don’t give that soft, sweet smile you once gave me to that worthless piece of shit.” °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Lila Danforth was never supposed to be the bride. When her identical twin sister, Clara, abandoned billionaire Elias Voss at the altar, Lila stepped in quietly, desperately, and hopelessly in love with the man her sister had thrown away. For three years she was the perfect wife, giving him everything while asking for almost nothing. Until their third anniversary. That day, Lila walked in on Elias in their bed… with Clara. Hurt by her husband’s cold indifference, her twin’s cruel betrayal, and her family’s icy dismissal, Lila finally does the one thing she never dared before. She walks away. But how could that single choice completely ruin her life even more? Did her leaving feel like such a threat to them? This left only one question burning brighter than the rest. Tell me, dear readers… After everything he and everyone around her had put her through, could Lila ever forgive them? Or would she grind them to dust?

After three grueling years of studying, I finally made it into the city agency. Then at a family banquet, I found out that my cousin, Gina Forrest—the one I'd seen at a hometown reunion—had also landed a job in the exact same unit. During the family dinner, right in front of our uncle, who happens to be a senior official, my cousin shoved a doctored confidential document into my hands. She suddenly shrieked, collapsed to the floor, and scattered the papers everywhere. "Clara! That's classified agency material! How could you sneak it out to show an outsider? Just for some lousy commission?" Our uncle slammed the table in rage, declaring he would uphold justice over family ties—have me fired on the spot and report me up the chain. Then, right in front of me, a line of on-screen text floated by. [Gina has really lost her mind. Doesn't she know the main character is the undercover inspection team leader sent specifically to investigate her?] [And look at the uncle still putting on his act. The team's car will be pulling up outside any minute.] Reading the on-screen text, I took a slow sip of tea and said to Gina, who was falling all over herself to prove her loyalty, "This document is classified, all right. But you changed the wrong part." Then I turned to my uncle and said, "And you just said you would uphold justice over family ties? Perfect. You can come back with me to the team and explain all those hiring violations over the past few years." Gina was stunned. The government system she had been killing herself to get into—I was the one in charge of evaluating her.