Deku Phone Meme

Blurb: "You're mine! You're my wife. You're fucking MINE" my husband roared furiously while he was pushing me towards the wall. I lowered my hand to protect my belly, he didn't know that I'm pregnant yet. "I will never leave you, I will never let you go. I'm drowning without you" he whispered desperately this time, leaning his forehead on mine. My eyes were cloudy, I lifted my other hand and caressed his cheek. I know that he needs me, I know he wants me, but not as a wife. He just needs my body, it always about my body and sex, and it will always be just about them. He needs me to be his submissive. His sex slave. With trembling voice I mumbled, "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! He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists and said, "I wil take this call and get back to finish our talk" Once he left the room, my tears flowed like a river on my burning cheeks. I knew it, he will always choose her. I wiped my tears harshly and made a phone call, "I'm leaving, can you take me to the airport?.." Trembling, I took a step towards my closet to put something on to hide the bruises on my body. ________ I'm Natalie, this is my story. I loved my husband with all of my heart. Although he was dark, vicious, and sadistic. I was his little dirty secret. We got married under some circumstances. No one ever knew about this marriage. I made my decision, I will never go back to him. I will never let him treat me like his submissive again, NEVER!

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

“Uhumm, can I remove my arms around you now?” suddenly the man who prevented her from falling stated in a mocking tone. Atty. Ninia Salamera’s face grew red with embarrassment. “Oh my, of course, thank you, Sir.” She immediately made herself stand firmly. “Be careful next time; do not use your phone while walking.” He then turned his back and walked in the direction of the CEO’s office. Atty. Ninia was not able to say a word. His face is familiar. “Oh my God!” the woman covers her mouth with her left hand, she knows the man; he was the one who beat her in the recent bar exam. He topped the bar and she only placed second! “What are you doing here Atty. Wilgreg Monaro”, she whispered.

I was working as a security guard in one of those fancy residential areas when, one day, a property owner handed me 7,000 dollars and asked me to go down to the underground garage to lend a hand. Now, I reckon I didn’t expect what I found there. Inside one of those expensive cars was a woman—a beauty, mind you, with her eyes a little bleary and her cheeks flushed. She was stretching her long, slender legs wide apart, with one hand reaching down... well, you get the idea. It wasn’t exactly what I thought I’d be dealing with when I signed up for this job. The voice on the other end of the phone gave a command, “Take off her tight skirt, let her raise her hips, and have your way with her!"

I'm six years older than Bernard Jackman, but he always smiles and says, "Lucky me. I got to marry you." I think we will live happily ever after until a message pops up on his phone and shatters the illusion. "Bernie, be honest. Who's better in bed, me or your wife?" "Come on. That old hag smells like mothballs. She can't be compared to you!" And yet, he still showers me with love. How can a man say he loves me while sleeping with another woman? So, I tear off his mask and leave him. "Bernard, it's not that I can't live without you! You're filthy, and I don't want you anymore! I can find another man just fine!"

Two years after breaking up with Evan Grey, my lung cancer finally reached its final stage. At the end of my life, I dragged my aching body to Lake Manco, where we promised we'd come together on the 999th day of our love. In the end, I was the only one who went. As the doctor's calls came in endlessly, no doubt urging me to return to chemotherapy, I silenced my phone and buried the pendant Evan gave me by the lake. "Evan, maybe this is the last time I'll think of you…" As soon as the words left my mouth, a drop of blood from my nose fell into the sand. Then, from behind me, I heard the voice I'd missed every day for the past three years, "Miss, could you please take a photo of me and my girlfriend?"

I am a billionaire titan who controls the world’s medical supply chains. With one phone call, I can bring an entire city’s healthcare to its knees. In the boardroom, I am the queen they all fear. But eight years ago, I was nothing. They said a girl like me was lucky to have even breathed the same air as a Harrington. I was the "placeholder" wife of Ryan Harrington, a man whose family name carries the weight of a dynasty. To the Harringtons, I was a nameless girl from the gutter, a woman Ryan married and discarded like a piece of trash. His mistress threw me out into the winter night, pregnant and penniless, expecting me to wither away and die. But you can’t kill a woman who has nothing left to lose. I used to pray for his love. Now, I’m coming for his empire.

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

After getting stood up by her fiancé who was busy marrying her best friend, Shirley Anderson got into a car accident and woke up in the hospital beside her mother. While browsing through her mother's phone, she stumbled on a post on her page that showed her fiancé getting married to her best friend. After much digging, Shirley discovers she was adopted and that her best friend is actually her parents' biological daughter. She storms out of the hospital and runs into a mysterious man who turns out to be the driver of her savior, the man who rushed her to the hospital after the accidents. When faced with a chance to get revenge on everyone who has wronged her, Shirley has a big decision to make? Is she ready to be married to the mafia boss, Jackson Storm even if it's a temporary agreement?

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.