Bible Theme Trunk Or Treat Ideas

"I only want you, Theia. Always have always will and this shall never change. How could I ever want another when I possess the one I solely exist for?" "Phobos," I call his name fondly a need to hug him and breathe in his calming scent surfaces. "I do not wish to treat you like you are made of glass because you aren't. Your body was made for me and it can handle everything I choose to give it. And this I will prove it to you." "When?" I ask breathlessly as he ultimately turns around to meet my curious eyes. Golden rings outline his irises his beast announcing his presence and they stand as one before me. A wicked smile paints his face with a flash of canine displayed to me. A promise he gives that I will be ruthlessly devoured. "When I fuck you senseless." ~~~ After years of excruciating loneliness, Phobos approached me. A frightening beast, my soulmate who emerged from within the bounds of a ruthless storm. The male I yearned for. He caught me off guard and I was under the spell he cast through his ocean eyes. A spell I couldn't defeat and that very moment I knew I was in trouble. The second our eyes met I knew he would bring me endless heartache. We were childhood friends, him and I. Phobos the gentle juvenile I grew up with vanished and was replaced by a cold-hearted barbarian, he terrified me as he killed many with a blink of his eyes where his beast was often in control surging forward consuming his senses. They were equals. How can I connect with a beast like him? How could I make him call me his? How can I love my childhood friend who has become a monster?

His hand slid beneath my dress, fingers curling around my thighs with a possessive grip. "I always knew that scumbag couldn't treat you right," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as his lips traced a slow path from my jaw to my neck. "Still can't figure out what you ever saw in him." I drew in a shaky breath as his hands moved higher, fingertips brushing the band of my panties, sending a jolt of heat through me. "Women like you are prizes, Sienna," he whispered against my lips, the words melting into my skin. My grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles white. "And prizes? They're meant to be fucking claimed. Owned." In the haze of intoxication, Alexander Grayson looked like the most beautiful thing on Earth—or perhaps he really was. "Can... can you make me forget about Ryatt?" I breathed, my voice trembling. A smirk tugged at his lips, dark and predatory, as his hand slid inside my panties, finding the heat of my wet, aching pussy. A soft moan escaped me, and I clung to him, every nerve alight."I'll make you forget about yourself, flower," with that he crushed his lips to mine. *** From the moment I met Alexander Grayson, I despised him with everything I had. But when with fate's cruel sense of humor he forced his way into my life, everything changed. He was everything I loathed—a womanizer, a violent monster, a spoiled heir with an ego larger than life itself. He should have meant nothing to me. Yet, I learned the truth the hard way: nothing about Alexander Grayson was ever simple. Alex dragged me into the hell he'd created, where he sat as the devil on the throne of darkness And the most terrifying part? I didn’t want to….escape.

What will you do when you are fucking in love with someone who doesn't love you back and then woke up the next day forced to marry another girl you don't even know or love? "Where the hell have you been, Hannah?" I turned around as she yelled from my back, full of hate in her eyes, grabbing my arm, pulling me inside, and laying me on the couch violently. I was shocked by her presumption. "You're still my fucking wife, Hannah. You're mine, don't ever forget that," she leaned on me as she held both my hands, feeling her grip trembling in rage. I was motionless and speechless. "What? is she great? Is she making you cum more than me? Are you not satisfied with my performance? I can do it again, you fucking whore" her face was dark, her voice cracking and hatred in every word she spits out. She forcibly slips her finger inside my andies and strokes my pussy, feeling my wetness. I slapped her hard. I was hurt by what she said. I could never imagine those words coming out from her. Where's the Ally I have known? Everything is my fault. I can't blame her if she started to treat me this way. I might hurt her ego. Even though we agreed not to intrude on others' lives still, it's not going to work the way we want it to. "Fucked Hannah, you are my wife. I can do whatever I want!" she shouted as she ripped my clothes and held me tighter. Ally got even angrier when I slapped her, struggling, but I didn't have a match for her. Ally kissed me forcibly and started to touch me out of love, stroking my breast, playing her fingers into my clit, burning with lust.

In his bid for perpetual life, the first Don of the Bryant family annihilates the witch clan and violently takes possession of their most sacred relic. In the moments before her death, the head of the witch clan places a curse on every descendant of the Bryant family. Every descendant will suffer a sudden mutation at the age of 23, where their bodies would be covered in thick, black hair, and fangs would sprout from their mouths, turning them into monsters. They can only lift the curse if they marry a descendant of the witches. Ella Crawford—my sister—and I are the last remaining descendants of the witch clan in the human realm. In my past life, Oliver's lottery selection fell on the attractive Ella. I was aware that Ella lacked the power to lift the curse, so I secretly swapped the lots, and Oliver ended up married to me. In the end, during our wedding night, Ella set herself alight, proclaiming that she had lost her eternal love and didn't want to face life without him. As a result, Mom and Dad drove me out. Oliver, however, took me in and showered me with affection. It wasn't long before I conceived his child, and he successfully survived his 23rd birthday. Yet, barely a day later, Oliver pushed me into the fire pit. I pleaded with tears streaming down my face, "I freed you from the curse and am currently carrying your baby, Oliver, so please don't treat me like this!" Oliver merely responded with a malicious grin as he tossed the torch aside. "If it weren't for your interference, Ella would have lifted the curse for me! I would have been able to spend the rest of my life with her, Cynthia!" In the end, I was completely consumed by the flames. I suddenly open my eyes and find myself returning to the day Oliver chooses his bride by lot. I immediately snap the tampered lot, as I'm eager to find out how Ella will save Oliver without any witch powers in this life.

"Chris." The said man looked up at his mate and beta. One look,he understood what had happened. Without further ado,the man behind her walked out of the door closing it behind him. He stood up and stalked towards her. Grabbing her chin he said, "Darling, do you badly want to go outside and get taken by those men? They would sell you to a pimp house?! Why don't you just understand that I'm just trying to keep you safe?! Why can't you just stay here quietly?" Isabelle looked up into his eyes. He was taken aback by her boldness. No one ever dared to look into this eyes but it was to be expected after all, she was his mate. His equal. "What good is this place? At least out there, I won't be confined like a fucking prisoner! I so much hate this place. I can't breathe normally. It's all so suffocating! There's no one to keep me company, no phone no nothing. You as well, oh yeah, you treat me like I'm some disease that you'll contract if you get close to me. Like a plague! But don't you worry, cause I'm very happy with that behaviour. But at least just let me live my normal life. Why can't I just do that?!" She yelled tears trickling down her face. Chris who couldn't bear to see her cry moved his hands from her chin pulling her into his embrace. She fought against him for a while before she later calmed down and just sobbed into his cloth. "I'll let you go out. I'll give you my phone to use for the meantime. Just please stop crying." He whispered his voice breaking. He leaned to his table and took his phone sliding it into her pocket.

While working with the search and rescue team to save people trapped in an earthquake, an aftershock suddenly struck. Without hesitation, I pushed a hospital intern, Serena, out of the way. However, the force of the movement sent me to the ground, where a steel rod pierced my back, leaving me unable to move. When the aftershock ended, my husband, Derrick, came down with the others. Yet, instead of coming to me, he rushed to cradle Serena, who only had a few scrapes. Then he turned to glare at me. “What are you still sitting there for? Are you dead? Serena’s hurt, and you can’t even help her up?!” I was in so much pain I could barely speak, only able to force out a faint sound. “Honey, I… I’ve got a steel rod in my back… Please… help me.” Serena suddenly burst into tears in fear. “Mr. Nelson, I was so scared. Just now, Ms. Jones pushed me forward. If I hadn’t shifted direction, that huge rock would’ve crushed me!” Derrick, furious, shouted at me. “Gwen! You’re a doctor! What about your ethics? Your humanity?” Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “I didn’t. Please, just save me. I really can’t move…” One of the medical team members who came down with him checked my condition and looked worried. “Director Nelson, the steel rod seems to have pierced her spine. If we don’t treat her now, there’s a risk of paraplegia!” However, Derrick yanked him aside. “Save her? Let her walk herself! Gwen, we’re saving lives right now. If you want to act, I’ll put on a show with you when we get home! “Serena’s injured. Since there’s only one stretcher, we’re taking her up. You can walk up on your own.” His cold, departing back left me in utter despair.

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"