Jojo Siwa Forehead Novels & Stories

When Elowen learned that she had been switched at birth, that her life as a princess was nothing more than a mistake, she quietly accepted her fate. She accepted being treated as an error. Accepted being hurt so deeply that even crying had to be done in secret. She believed she would fade away like this — silently, unnoticed, forgotten. Until one day — when despair pushed her to the edge — she felt a faint chill, as if someone were standing behind her, protecting her without a word. From that moment on, Elowen knew she was no longer alone. — Adrian survived a horrific car accident. His body lay motionless in a hospital bed, while his soul became bound to a wounded girl he had never known. He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shield her from harm. Yet when she was starved, warm food appeared in her drawer. When she was bullied, her tormentors met with inexplicable accidents. When she curled up crying in the dead of night, an invisible hand gently rested on her forehead—so tender it hurt. Adrian was there. Quieter than any living person. He witnessed every wound, remembered every tear, every trembling breath she tried to suppress. Affection grew in silence—slowly, carefully—as if one careless step closer would cause the girl to shatter. One was alive, yet denied a life. One was dead, yet still learning how to protect someone. Some forms of protection need no light. Some kinds of love cannot be touched. — Then one day, Elowen spoke seriously to her “Ms. Ghost”: Elowen: “Ms. Ghost, if you’re lonely…” “Maybe you could bond with a male ghost.” “I’d give you my blessing.” Adrian: … Then the “Ms. Ghost” coldly placed a hand on her forehead. Adrian: “Call me Mr. Ghost.”

I stood between both of them masking my son from his gorgeous daddy but my stubborn son cocked his head and gave his dad a very beautiful sunburnt smile. I couldn't help but chuckle my baby is too cute. "Mommy, is this Daddy?" Oh my God! I looked behind us at Jale who was only a few steps away from us. I bet he clearly heard what my son had just asked me. The was he was looking at me with curiousty, I knew he wanted an answer to that question too. Who am I even kidding from his viking gold hair, brown chocolate eyes, his fair skin, to proud attitude. Everything he was was the same thing my boy was. Chase was a true young version of his daddy but I would never let him know that. I crouched down in front of my angel and kissed his forehead before answering his question. My eyes shot up at Jale again who pretended like he was looking at something on his phone yet his phone's screen was blank then. After making sure he had his attention to us, I cupped my baby's cheeks and made him look into my eyes. "No honey, this man is not your daddy but uncle. He is uncle Jale." I could see Jale's face fall from the sides of my face. Suck a jerk! What did he expect that I was going to say Chase is his son. That is something I would never do in my life. I would never let Jale into my son's life. I will never let him know he is my baby's daddy because he doesn't deserve my little boy at all. He doesn't deserve us after all the horrible things he did to me five years ago.

“Kiss me.” The words tumbled out and Lex stepped back instantly. He turned away from her and Isis felt her pride being butchered. “Isis, I-” His voice travelled through the room. It was laced with uncertainty. His back was still to her. "I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I-uh. Good bye, Mr. Greyson.” Isis replied as she slid off the desk. She needed to leave, before her embarrassment killed her. Isis grabbed her bag and stalked off towards the door. A grip like iron encased her shoulder and she was spun around to face Mr. Greyson, he pushed her against the door and dropped her bag onto the floor. He pinned her body with his, a hand around her waist bringing her body against his and his other hand cupping her face. He ran his thumb along her lower lips and took satisfaction in her shuddering. He drew her hands up and anchored them above her head, pinning them to the door. His mouth slowly covered hers and moved teasingly. Isis gasped at the skillful movement of his lips against hers. He possessed her fully, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, devoured her and nothing was sweeter for Lex. He fought to control his natural instincts firing to life and focused on giving her this but he was certain he would gain the most pain from it. He knew he would never forget this kiss, never meet its equal. He pulled away from her, their breath labored. He rested his forehead against hers and committed the moment to memory. He leaned off her, let her hands drop to her sides, he handed Isis her bag. "Good bye, Ms. Davenport.” He replied with some pain as he turned the door knob and allowed her to leave.

"You're mine. You're my wife. You're fucking MINE," my husband roared furiously, slamming me against the wall. I instinctively lowered my hand to protect my belly. He didn’t know I was pregnant, yet. “I will never leave you. I will never let you go,” he whispered this time, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead against mine. “I’m drowning without you.” My vision blurred with tears. I reached up and caressed his cheek. I knew he needed me. I knew he wanted me. But not as a wife… He only wanted, needed, my body. It had always been about my body and sex… and it would always be. He wanted me to be his submissive. His sex slave. Beneath him. Controlled. Obedient. With a trembling breath, I whispered, "I'm not, Raf. I'm not yours. We can't be together. We came to the end of this useless marriage." His phone rang... It was Debbie. The other woman. His jaw tightened as he stepped back. “I’ll take this quickly… then we’ll finish this.” I didn’t need him to. I already knew. He would always choose her. The moment he walked out, my tears fell freely, burning down my cheeks. With shaking hands, I wiped my eyes harshly and grabbed my phone. “I’m leaving,” I said. “Can you take me to the airport?” Trembling, I turned toward my closet, searching for something to cover the bruises on my skin… and the ones far deeper. *** I loved my husband with everything I had… even though he was dark, cruel, and dangerously possessive. I was his little dirty secret. Hidden wife. We got married under some circumstances. Marriage no one knew existed. I’ve made my decision. I'll never let him treat me like his submissive again.NEVER!

After Uncle Frank and Aunt Gina died, my older cousin, Izzy Kramer, moved in with my family. To make up for the fact that she has lost her parents, everything she has is hers and hers alone. I'm not allowed to even think about touching them. Summer comes along, and my parents get Izzy a brand new bathtub. I happen to glance at it for just a second longer, and Izzy immediately breaks into tears. "If you want all of these things, Melanie, go ahead and take them! I just want my parents back!" Mom and Dad are furious, and Mom storms over to slap me. "Why are you acting like such a spoiled child? What, have you never seen a bathtub before? Why do you keep staring at Izzy's bathtub, huh?" My cheek stings. Ever since then, I've grown too scared to even look at any of Izzy's things. One day, Izzy invites me to have a soak in her bathtub. Thrilled, I carefully step into the water, but it's not as warm as I expected. In fact, the icy water instinctively gives me the urge to draw backward, but Izzy gives me a hard shove from behind. She swiftly locks the bathroom door shut after. "Since you like eyeing other people's things so much, you jealous brat, I'll make sure you have a nice long soak in the tub this time!" Having lost my footing when she shoved me, I bash my head against the side of the bathtub. I feel something warm trickling down my forehead, but that sensation is quickly replaced by the icy water that surrounds me. I don't know how much time passed, but eventually, I find myself hovering in the air. I hear Izzy's voice coming from the other side of the door. She complains to my parents, "Uncle James! Aunt Louise! Melanie snuck into the bathroom to use my bathtub!"

When Diana sacrificed everything to save the Silver Moon Pack, she never imagined that her mate, Alexander, would spend eight years punishing her for it. After losing their unborn child to a vicious attack from Alexander's lover, Diana begs for freedom from her loveless union. But dark secrets lie beneath the surface—secrets that could shatter both packs. The birth moon approaches, and Diana must decide whether to keep her promise of silence or finally break free from the Alpha who never wanted her. A tale of betrayal, sacrifice, and the thin line between love and hate. At the Silver Moon Pack's annual full moon ceremony, I was viciously shoved to the ground by Alexander's female companion, Selena. Wearing silver-tipped boots, she stepped directly onto my swollen belly. In an instant, bright red blood stained my white ceremonial dress. Alexander glanced at me with a slight frown. "Pregnant but not staying in the den to take care of yourself? Out here challenging pack hierarchy again? Trying to frame Selena, aren't you? The sacred ground is stained with your blood—so unlucky! What a disgrace to a Luna!" After saying this, he turned away without hesitation, wrapping his arm around Selena's waist as they left. Even the urgent howls of the pack healer didn't make him look back at me once. The bitter wolfsbane medicine churned inside my body, and in the end, the pup couldn't be saved. Clutching my now-empty belly, I had just come out of the healer's den when I saw Alexander on the pack's communication crystal, passionately marking Selena with his scent. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, piercing straight into my heart. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I looked at my mother-in-law standing by the healing bed. "Elder Mardanna, it's been eight moons. The Silver Moon Pack's crisis was resolved long ago. I really want to break the mate bond. Please, let me go..."

At the afterparty, my daughter, Mia Volpe, suffers from a sudden asthma attack. She collapses to the carpeted floor and goes through a seizure on the spot. But my Capo husband, Lorenzo Volpe, wraps an arm around his secretary, Sophia Bianchi, while watching Mia suffer before his eyes. Sophia had once shown him a forged paternity test of Mia and him. As such, he firmly believes that Mia is the bastard child of me and a Soldato. When Mia tries to reach out for Lorenzo, her complexion already bluish-purple from suffocation, he merely averts his gaze with a disgusted look on his face. "Daddy… S-Save… me…" I look everywhere for Mia's inhaler like a madwoman, only to realize that it's already empty. Sophia covers her mouth while tittering softly. "Dear me, Mia sure has an affinity for acting! Elena, I can't believe you and your daughter are willing to go to such lengths just to get Lorenzo to pay attention to you! "Since Mia likes acting that much, she might as well make the performance perfect." She lifts a high-heeled foot before crushing Mia's fingers, which were attempting to curl around Lorenzo's pant leg. Poor Mia was in so much pain, yet she couldn't let out a single sound. All she could do was scream silently into the void with her mouth wide open. I kneeled on the floor, my forehead already bleeding from smashing it against the floor repeatedly. "Lorenzo Volpe, Mia is your flesh and blood! Please, I'm begging you! Give me some medicine or call a doctor!" But Lorenzo just looks at me coldly, as though he's looking at trash. "A bastard like her is better off dead. Elena Corleone, stop using such underhanded methods to spoil everyone's mood." At that moment, what little love I still harbor for this man completely dissipates as I feel Mia's heartbeat gradually weaken. I no longer beg him for help. With trembling hands, I press the button on the emergency transmitter that I've sworn I'd never touch. That transmitter is the direct line to the highest authority in Smeraldia—my father, Don Vito Corleone.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"