Novel & Cerita Poison Mushroom Cookie X Onion Cookie

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."

“My lawyer will bring the divorce papers tomorrow and you can sign it. Once it's a month, I will have it delivered to the court." Liam explained with calmness. “Fine, but you will have to act according to my rules now," I said, and Liam looked at me with eyebrows furrowed. “I have conditions I would like you to pay keen attention to it." Liam didn't pry too much, and instead, he told me to go ahead. “Okay. I would like to have my separate room." “Fine," Liam agreed without batting an eyelid. “I don't want to share meals with you or anything. I will walk the way I want and do everything I want in my way." “Accepted," Liam replied. I released my hands under my bosom and clasped them together. I bit my lips in nervousness and braced myself. I'm no longer a teenager. “I don't want us having s*x," I said, looking at the wall. A blush crept to my cheeks which made me shut my eyes tight, muttering some curses under my breath. * * * * * * * * Emily had an arranged marriage to Liam Nolan, the ruthless billionaire in Los Angeles. Although she always had a crush on him Liam never recuperated her feelings. Despite the love she has for him, Liam didn't hesitate to treat her like trash. Betrayed by her sister, Emily's life was cruelly cut short. However, she was granted a second chance and this time, Emily swore to not repeat the same mistake she made in her past life. What happens when she realizes her ruthless husband has no intention of letting her go in this lifetime? Would she find the strength to break free, or would Liam's relentless pursuit rekindle the flames of their passionate yet toxic love?

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!

"You don’t know what you’re playing with." He murmured, His hand traced a slow path down my arm, fingers firm but deliberate, sending a shiver straight to my core. "You are scared" “I’m not.” I whispered. He smiled. “You should be.” Before I could think, he closed the distance, his lips crashing onto mine, rough, urgent, claiming and fierce, consuming fire of his touch. "I can't stop. I don't won't to." Then he claimed my lips again. And soon, my lips moved. I was kissing back. This shouldn’t be happening. Just then footsteps echoed. “Rylan—stop, someone’s coming—” But his hands only gripped my waist tighter, holding me still. he whispered. “Let them. I don’t care.” then his lips crashed against mine, harder. I tried turning away but he grabbed my neck and stuck his tongue into my mouth. "Rylan please." my eyes dart to the door. "Stop." I struggled. His hand slipped down to grab my ass. Squeezing it tightly. "If you weren't wearing a jean, I would have stuck my fingers right into your holes. Fuck." He hissed then continued. A light knock sounded at the door followed by the twisting handle. No! ★ Some-secrets are born in fire... and some desires, forged in darkness. Alyssa Milano carries a past she can’t outrun-one soaked in blood, silence, and a secret that could ruin her. At fifteen, her innocence was stolen. Rylan Russo is danger, ruthless, powerful, and used to getting what he wants. When he sets sights on Alyssa, their worlds collide in a storm of obsession and desire. Is this a love story tocall? In a world where trust is poison and passion is a weapon, Alyssa must choose her path. A dark, twisted romance where survival comes at a cost.

Selena Vanson, my adopted sister whom my brothers had brought back from the borders, has framed me. She claims that I've laced her birthday cake with wolfsbane. Hence, my brothers throw me into the silver mine, which has long since been sealed off. I scream for mercy while struggling against my bonds with all my might. But all I get is an icy judgment from Leo Wilde, my oldest brother who's the Alpha of the pack. He looks at me with hatred in his eyes, as though he's looking at a filthy beast. "Selena has been taking care of you without minding the fact that you're a low-tier Omega. Yet, you intend to poison her and even kill her wolf out of jealousy toward her blood purity! You deserve to die!" My other two brothers, Luke and Ryan Wilde, have even tied heavy rocks to my limbs for fear that I might escape. "You often act innocent and wronged, but the truth is, you have such a vile heart! Our family is embarrassed to have a lowly Omega like you!" "It's best if you die! No one here wants to see you ever again!" Even my younger brother, Rupert Wilde, who is raised by me, mocks me as well. "Lorraine, you should be sensible. Even without you around, Selly will still be nice to me. But without us, you're nothing but an abandoned mutt." After that, they close the mine's door on me. Silver powder soon rushes into my nose and mouth. I feel as though my body is lit on fire. Pain and agony soon engulf me whole. Once my brothers think that I've been punished enough and want to spare me from the torture, there's nothing left of me inside the mine pit but a pile of blood and bones.

The day before my wedding, I went to our cathedral early to get familiar with the place. Instead, I found my fiancé and my stepsister, Isabella fucking on the altar. Our altar. I caught them. He didn't even apologize and just threw me out into the storm. I collapsed in the pouring rain. That’s when he found me. Alistair, the Vampire Prince. He moved like a god through the storm. He pulled me from the mud, and gave me a palace. He told the world I was his soulmate. The one he’d spent centuries searching for. His one and only. For five years, his devotion made me the envy of the supernatural world. I thought I was the one exception in his eternal life. Until I found his secret room. My fingers brushed against an ancient scroll. The script was written in blood. The first line was her name: Isabella. Beneath it, in Alistair's own hand: “Absolute priority. Above all else.” Underneath was a healer's log I’d never seen before. A vampire's healing log. The date was from the night I found out I was pregnant. The night I was attacked by werewolves. They brought me back to the castle, covered in blood. The healers never came for me. I woke up alone. The baby was gone. Our child. His blood, my blood—gone. And my clothes were soaked in what was left of it. I cleaned every trace of it. When he came home, I broke down in his arms. I never told him. I couldn’t bear for him to feel the pain I felt. Now I understood. That same night, Isabella was also being attacked by werewolves. And Alistair’s order to his council was: “Send every healer. Isabella is the priority.” My heart stopped. Despair was a poison in my veins. “If I was never the one... then you can keep your eternity. I want no part of it.”

They said a wolfless omega like me should be grateful for any mate. They didn't mention he'd reject me in front of three hundred wolves on my twenty-second birthday. For fourteen years, I survived as Silverpine Pack's punching bag, always starved, beaten, and told I was worthless. Tonight was supposed to change everything. My fated mate, Beta Marcus Kane, was supposed to claim me. Instead, he chose my cruel stepsister and condemned me to the silver chamber. So I ran. Straight into rogue territory. Straight into them. Kael, Damon, and Reece Blackthorn: three exiled alpha bikers with reputations as dark as their wolves. Dangerous and deadly. And somehow... all three are my fated mates. They say shared mates only occur in the most powerful bloodlines. They say it's a gift from the moon goddess herself. But I'm nobody. I'm broken. I don't even have a wolf. Except I do. And she's not just any wolf. She's a White Wolf, a bloodline extinct for two centuries. The kind of power that alphas kill for. The kind of power my stepfather has been suppressing with poison and dark magic since I was eight years old. Now my wolf is awakening, the Blackthorn brothers are falling for me despite their blood curse counting down to destruction, and the corrupt Wolf Council wants me dead or controlled before I become unstoppable. The stepfather who tortured me is coming to finish what he started. My ex-mate is dying from our severed bond and is desperate to reclaim me. And three devastatingly possessive alphas have made it clear: anyone who wants me goes through them first. I'm done being the victim. Done being weak. Done apologizing for existing. They wanted a monster? The White Wolf has awakened. She's coming for everyone who tried to break her.

Without my knowledge, Aileen—the daughter of Carlson Green’s first love—secretly lured my five-year-old daughter, Lena, deep into the Wolfsbane Forest. She told Lena there was treasure hidden in the forest. When a distress signal came from the forest, I rushed there with Carlson and the rescue team. The wolfsbane's poison spread silently, making it harder for Lena to breathe. She lay weak in the grass, her face pale, her heartbeat slowing down. Aileen, meanwhile, was sprawled on the path beside the wolfsbane. She only had a few scratches on her knees, but she was crying loudly. "Help me! It hurts so much!" I thought Carlson, the Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack and Lena’s father, would run into the forest to check on his own daughter. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent down, scooped Aileen into his arms, comforting her with care. His eyes were full of worry. "It’s okay now, Daddy’s here." I ran forward, my voice shaking. "Carlson! Lena is still in the wolfsbane grass! I can feel her breathing fading! Come with me to find her!" He only said calmly, "Lena is wearing my Moonstone Crystal. It protects her from wolfsbane. She will be fine. Aileen needs care and treatment more." The rescue vehicle left, taking Aileen and Carlson with it. I ran into the wolfsbane field and found Lena. She weakly tugged my hand. "Mom, don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt at all." "Daddy will come save me after he saves Aileen." Then she closed her eyes. And never breathed again. Even on the day of her funeral, Lena never got to see her father come to save her. Carlson Green, a life for a life. You, Aileen, and her mother will pay back everything you did to Lena—I’ll make you repay it a thousand times over.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.