Gacha Table Green Screen Novels & Stories

"Call me sir." He demanded."What?" I heard it correct yet asked again to make sure did I hear correct? "Don't your thick head get things at once?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows without moving his gaze from mine. No way I am going to call him sir. Thick head! It's the second time he told that. What does he think of himself?I cleared my throat and spoke. "Firstly, I'm not going to call you sir. I'm not your slave to do so. And secondly, I don't have a thick head." I protested. "Slave? Seeing a word by its abbreviation." He quirked a brow. "Your thick head has a little knowledge in it." This time he inched more close while the corner of his perfect shifted to a smirk. Move back, Mister!"Yes, I do see a word by its meaning," I said, trying not to fall in his gaze. (S.I.R = Slave - I - Remain) He got closer and closer and stooped near my ear while keeping his hands on the table, either side of me. I could feel his brushing against my earlobe when he spoke in a low deep voice. "If you don't, I'll cancel this deal." 'No! I can't let this happen.'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I am either drown into the deep green sea or flew up into the bright blue sky, for sure I was lost in his blue-green eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time marched by days into months and months into a year. Everything in my life has changed but one thing remains the same. Years ago I would've never pictured my life the way it is now.

After Pierce Emery and I got back together, I started "renting him out." Every time his old flame, Daphne Roach, called him away, I stopped crying and causing scenes like before. I charged by the hour instead. Ten grand an hour during the day. Twenty at night. Triple on holidays. Three months later, my account was up almost two million dollars. Pierce had promised to help me pick a dress for a banquet, but Daphne called him crying, saying she'd sliced her hand while cooking. I didn't even look up. I just held out my phone with the payment screen open. One night, I came down with a brutal fever. While Pierce was driving me to the hospital, his phone rang again. Daphne. He stared at the screen for a long second before answering. Her voice came through shaky and tearful. "Pierce, the thunder's so loud. I can't sleep. Can you come stay with me?" I quietly pulled out an umbrella and told him to let me out at the next intersection. He looked at me like he wanted to explain something, but I just smiled. "Don't forget to transfer the money." The same thing happened again on the day our daughter went in for her routine checkup. Except this time, she was the one asking him for money.

Christmas Eve was meant to be the culmination of seven years of long-distance longing—the day Lorenzo finally slid an engagement ring onto my finger. Instead, a sudden emergency surgery chained me to the operating table. The patient wasn't just suffering from a premature delivery and catastrophic hemorrhaging; she was riddled with infections, the biological fallout of a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. The girl on the table spat out orders with a venomous entitlement that made my blood run cold. "My husband is the head of the Corleone family. He’s second to none, and this entire city bows to him. If you can’t save my baby, you’re all dead." My mind went blank. There was only one head of the Corleone family: Lorenzo. "You’ve got the wrong man," I said, my voice wavering despite my frown. "The news said he’s already engaged to a woman from a rival family for a strategic alliance." The girl looked at me as if I’d just told a pathetic joke. She surveyed me with a mocking sneer. "Oh, he’s mentioned that woman. He said she’s like a cold corpse—that even touching her makes him sick to his stomach. She doesn't provide him a fraction of the pleasure I do." She smirked. "He heard something happened to the baby. He’s en route from Sicily right now with his personal detail." She flicked her phone screen open. There it was: a photo of her and Lorenzo, locked in a suffocatingly intimate embrace. I froze. A second later, a notification from Lorenzo vibrated against my palm. “Darlin’, something urgent came up tonight. I’m skipping the engagement dinner. I’ll make it up to you later.” Since they were so utterly in love, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I dialed a number that had been silent for three years—the number of the true mastermind of the underworld, Don Sebastian. "Does your proposal from three years ago still stand?"

Sebastian told her to abort their baby, or he'd kill it himself. Neshara kept the child and erased him from their lives. Six years later, he's her boss. Their genius son, Sevi, calls him "Sir." And when Sebastian asks about the baby, she looks him dead in the eye. "I got rid of it." The biggest lie she's ever told. Now the billionaire wants answers. Sebastian's mother can't stop staring at Sevi's green eyes, the same green eyes as her son's. And Neshara's six-year-old genius who plays violin and collects gold stars?, he just became best friends with the father who wanted him dead. Neshara knelt once for Sebastian Rocc. Never again.

"Ms. Hall, these are the details of the feigned death service you booked with us. The date of death is set for the wedding, half a month from now. The cause of death will be suicide by drowning, and the deceased is yourself. Please confirm and sign here." Wendy Hall nodded. Without hesitation, she signed her name at the bottom of the document. The bustling street was alive with chatter and movement. As Wendy walked home alone, she glanced up, and there it was—the giant screen on a nearby building, looping a video of Grayson Bryce proposing to her.

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

A story where a maid fantasizes about her boss. Comes to work but can’t focus and sees only him. Then she gives him a hint on what she wants with a note on his table .then the whole scenario just excalates

“I need this job, Ralph, and I’m willing to do anything to get the job, I mean anything you want.” I told him, walking over to his side and sitting on his table, spreading my legs to give him a good view of my thong. “What makes you think I would fall for this cheap act of yours, what makes you even think I’m interested in your body?” he asks me, his eyes fixed on my cleavage. “I know you like me, Ralph, you can’t take your eyes off my body, I see you drooling when I walk by and I know you want more of me. Besides, how can you not want more when you’ve had a taste of me already. You popped my cherry, remember?” I asked him, putting my legs on his armchair, fixing my eyes on his. “Fine, you win, you got the job, goddamit! Just get out of my office before I do something stupid.” He yelled at me, pulling his hand through his hair in frustration. I smiled excitedly as I jumped down from the table, heading for the exit. “And Victoria, ”he called out to me as I opened his office door. I turned with a raised brow praying in my heart that he doesn’t change his mind. “Be very careful around me, I can be very dangerous when provoked. This emotional blackmail won’t work on me all the time. The next time you try to seduce me again, I won’t hold back, I would screw you right here on the bare table,” he warned me sternly. I know that was meant to sound like a threat, yet I moaned at the thought of him bending me over on his table and screwing my brains out.

Finally running away from her captors, whom she almost had a traumatizing experience with, Xanthe stumbled on the woods. There she met a wolf with enigmatic piercing green eyes that seemed to struck her whole being. On that day, Xanthe met her angel wolf.