Images Of Sans From Undertale

"I'm a dominatrix, Harry. I need control! In business, in life, in my home... in sex." She looked at him, who now had his eyes fixed on her. It wasn't that he had become less shy or more comfortable, he simply continued to follow orders, without even understanding why he was doing it. "But the club tired me... the submissive guys at the club tired me." She returned to the sofa, then moved much closer to him, bringing their knees together, and took a firm hold of his chin when, for a second, he dared to look away from her. "So I really wanted to try something new, Harry." Kath took a deep breath and said a few words that would have the power to radically change two stories. "I want YOU to agree to be my new submissive."

"Let me go!" She struggles, but it's useless. "Not happening, Princess. Someone wants to say hello.” "Did you really think you could run from me, sweetheart? Did you honestly believe you could embarrass me in front of everyone and just disappear?” He reaches out and traces his finger along her jaw. She tries to pull away, but the man holding her hair tightens his grip. "You look terrible, baby. All dirty and scratched up. That's what happens when spoiled princesses try to survive in the real world." "Go to hell!" "I'll get there eventually. But first, I have some good news for you…” ~~~~~~~~~~ Watch out for an intriguing blast of “Cloaked Scent From The Alpha”... A story full of real tensions and pleasures.. waiting to be unveiled on each page, from the world of fiction, into the world of reality of Princess Aria Stone!

After waking up from a car accident, I realize that I've lost some of my memories. My wife, Samantha Ross, embraces me immediately and says in a choked-up tone, "The doctor said that you've hurt your manhood in the accident. You… might not be able to perform in the bedroom anymore." My father-in-law, Edmund Ross, sighs heavily as well. He tells me that even if I can't get Samantha pregnant anymore, I will always be the only son-in-law who's married into the Ross family. Everyone compliments me on marrying into a wonderful family. After all, Samantha refuses to abandon me, and Edmund completely understands my situation. But I know for a fact that my kidneys aren't busted at all. Also, I already had a son with Samantha a long time ago. The thing is, where on earth is that child now?

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help.

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]

First thing Leah Labelle did after Andrew Fillion's funeral? Ask her husband Ian for a divorce. Why? Because Ian's entire family thought the perfect way to honor his dead brother was to knock up the widow. Naturally. "My parents are threatening to hang themselves or starve, Leah. What was I supposed to do? It's just IVF with Cecilia—we're not even doing anything. Why are you making this a divorce thing?" Leah shut her eyes. Her chest cracked open, and the tears she'd been holding finally broke free. "Ian, we're MARRIED. You seriously don't think this is next-level insane?" Her husband was about to have a baby with someone else. But sure—she was the crazy one.

When an unexpected attack headed by Seraphine Wildfrost's best friend resulted to her mate's death and the destruction of Silvercrest Pack, Seraphine was left utterly devastated. Overwhelmed by the betrayal, hatred, grief and loss of her other half, she was driven to her own demise. But when she awoke, it wasn't the afterlife she saw. The Moon Goddess offered her a chance to alter the future events, to prevent the destruction caused by Maximus' dangerous obsession with her. The only rule she must remember is to never let anyone know she's from the future, or things might get worse if the knowledge fell into the wrong hands. Seraphine set out to devise a plan, recalling the root of the future destruction and trying her best to alter it. It seemed easy at first. Yet, just like what happened most of the time, things didn't go as planned. How will Seraphine cope with the consequences of her decisions? How will she face the man who betrayed her from the future? And how could she have forgotten how utterly annoying her mate and future husband was when they first met, just because he was the perfect husband to her in her future? Seraphine soon realizes that a thorough plan didn't guarantee a smooth sailing.

On my birthday, my mother-in-law had just been wheeled out of surgery, only to be sent straight back into the ER. In a video newly posted by an intern, he was shown holding a scalpel and cutting my mother-in-law open, while the lead surgeon, who was my wife, was nowhere in sight. “Who says interns aren’t qualified to operate? No worries. My Dr. Lover dotes on me.” Colleagues flooded the comment section, saying the couple was sweet and that they were shipping them. I forwarded the video straight to the hospital director. Not long after, my wife called me. Her breath ragged and voice fragmented. “So I forgot your birthday. Is that reason enough for you to go to the director and accuse me of violating hospital rules? “I’m so done with your unreasonable behavior! Even if my mother sides with you this time, I’m still getting a divorce…” She hung up before I could respond. What she didn’t know was that her mother wouldn’t be taking my side anymore. Because the patient who went into massive postoperative hemorrhage and died during resuscitation, under the lead of an intern, was her mother.

My parents have invited all of their relatives and friends to our villa for a nice gathering to celebrate their golden anniversary. Isabel Atkinson, my wife who works as a model, suddenly calls me on the phone and claims that she needs to attend an urgent meeting hosted by her client. Before it's my turn to give a speech on the stage, my assistant suddenly hands my phone over to me. "Mr. Marsh, you might want to take a look at this…" The screen shows a social media post made by Miles Horton, an intern designer at our company. "At this moment, she belongs to me and me only." In the photo, Isabel can be seen sitting in a dimly-lit room. A few plain-looking dishes decorate the table. Her hair is slightly messy, but she continues to smile at the elder next to her. A cold, mocking smile appears on my face. It turns out that her so-called emergency meeting is a family gathering with Miles. I leave a comment in the comments section. "The food looks pretty tasty. I'd like to visit you next time." Chaos erupts on the social media feed instantly. Isabel calls me immediately. "Why are you being such a phony? You'd better delete the comment right now!" I just chuckle coldly as I end the call. Then, I send her a copy of the divorce papers I've drafted. Since Miles' matters are clearly more important to her, then she can forget about coming home forever.

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.