Romans & histoires Laughing Naruto

"You bastard, you rotten bastard. . . I will make you pay for this.”Lucianda threatened in a provoked voice but Prince Hakeem only laughed outrageously as he glinted down at her exposed breasts. "You and who will do that?" He made a mocking sound. "My dear Lucianda, the only reason you escaped from my wrath was because my findings indicated you are a decent woman, but don't try to take advantage, you will pay dearly for it." He warned coldly and Lucianda shivered physically. Laughing devilishly at her fear, Prince Hakeem kept his eyes on her pouty breasts and just when Lucianda felt she would die from the embarrassment and the unwanted passion washing over her body, he gave an insulting snort as he got up from the bed, and before she could do anything, with a blank expression, he covered her body with a wrap. “Try to know your place.” He said before striding out of the room. Only then did Lucianda give way to tears. What was her offence? She was just a disillusioned widow trying to get over all that had happened in her life and here is another cruel soul, trying to create more problems for her. ***** Lucianda Castos, the widow of the late powerful Alex Castos, refused to mourn the death of her husband. All she wanted was to start the process of healing. Prince Hakeem, her husband's equally powerful but ten times deadlier rival, would not permit her to do that. He had another thing planned and Lucianda did not know what that meant for her. She hated her husband and everything that had to do with him. And she would avenge the pain they made her go through. She has only two missions; to protect her son and to hurt those who hurt her.

My sister-in-law sent me a photo of her kissing my husband on the beach. Just a few minutes later, she deleted the photo and sent me a text saying, “Oops, sent to the wrong person. Lol.” I knew it was deliberate. It was never a mistake. She wanted me to see how happy my husband was with her. Clara was never my sister-in-law. Three years ago, my husband had lied about her, claiming she was his younger sister, and I believed him. But after five years of marriage, I discovered—far too late—that Clara was never his sister. She was his mistress, his childhood lover, the woman he had been sleeping with under the same roof as me while making me serve her as if she were truly my sister-in-law. And now what? He had lied again… said he was going on a business trip. Yet Clara had just sent me a picture—a cute, sickening picture—of my husband happily kissing the very woman he had once claimed was his younger sister. The photo carried a timestamp showing the exact time and location. It was real. There was no denying it. They were in Hawaii, on a beach, laughing, kissing, and having the time of their lives… while he had made me believe he was away on business. Without saying a word, I saved the picture and posted it straight to Instagram, captioning it: "Congratulations to my sister-in-law… on finally becoming the official wife.” Then I turned off my phone and went to bed. The next morning, after having breakfast with my cat, Lulu, and taking the warmest bath ever, I turned my phone back on—and froze. Over 200 missed calls were waiting for me. Notifications exploded across my phone. And it didn’t stop there—the number of unattended messages kept climbing past 250.

Kang Jae Woon is the youngest prosecutor in his department. With his handsome appearance, outstanding achievement, and powerful family background, he is being admired and envied at the same time by many people. One day, his best friend, Han Ryan is murdered by a serial killer and Jae Woon felt his world is crumbling down. Due to his excessive sadness, Jae Woon drowns himself in alcohol at his house, alone. He drunk and snacking food until his body suddenly convulsed in an allergic reaction. "Shit! Who the fuck put almonds in my snack?! I clearly remind the salesgirl to not put any almond in my baggage! Damn it! Where is my medicine?!" As he's groping around in agony, searching for his precious medicine, Jae Woon felt his body plopped on the bed as his consciousness faded and darkness is embracing his body. How miserable. To think I would die because of a stupid almond...Ryan will be laughing when he heard this. ------ "Wake up, you pig!" A harsh voice is jolted him away from his sleeping state. At the same time, his body is being drenched by a bucket of smelly water. "Since you're a pig, you didn't mind to bathe in poop, right?" Mocking waves of laughter are resounding in the dark, small room. Three boys and one girl are looking down at him with disgusted expressions plastered on their faces. One of the boys is holding an empty bucket. Jae Woon is dumbfounded. Wha...? Where is he? No, no, no. Actually, who are these pompous brats?! How dare they...Jae Woon suddenly felt that something is wrong with his body. He had difficulty in moving around and felt extremely sluggish. What is this?! Since when his slender and sturdy body changed into a piggy in just one night?!

During the holidays, I've worked my ass off just to whip up a feast filled with my wife, Willow Steele's favorite dishes. But soon, my mother-in-law pulls out a paternity test report and announces with a smile that the birth father of my daughter, Naomi Johnson, is actually Willow's childhood sweetheart, Luther Lloyd. Everyone bursts into laughter before saying teasingly that "no wonder Naomi looks so much like Luther". Willow's father even pats Luther on the shoulder while looking at him as though the latter were a part of the family. What stings my heart the most is that Willow is laughing so hard that she can barely stand up straight. So, that leaves her clinging to Luther while she taps Naomi on the forehead with a finger. "Go on, call Mr. Lloyd 'daddy.' He's your real dad, after all." Naomi, who has always kept me at an arm's length, rushes into Luther's arms without hesitation and starts calling him "daddy" sweetly. I fall silent for a moment as I watch everything unfold. Then, I draw to my feet and look at Willow. "Let's get a divorce." But Willow just chuckles icily in return. "Must you go that far? My mom was just joking around." When I'm about to leave, Willow turns to tell the others, "He's just being ridiculous. Once I give him the cold shoulder for a few days, he'll still beg me to return to his side pathetically." But what Willow doesn't know is that I've chosen to endure everything she's hurled at me out of love in the past. Now, I want nothing more than to leave her permanently.

While enrolling my son in an elite school, the administrator suddenly tells me my marriage certificate is forged. "According to our records, your marital status is listed as single." "But I've been married to my husband, Chandler Leighton, for seven years!" Behind me, other parents waiting in line burst out laughing mockingly. "Did she just say Chandler Leighton? She must be dreaming." Amid their ridicule, I leave and head straight to the city hall for a confirmation. And as a wife of seven years, my marital status in the system is stated as "Single". A cold dread washes over me as I press. "Who is Chandler Leighton's legal wife?" The clerk flatly spats out a name, "Heather Hammington." It was that name again! I rush home, ready to confront Chandler, but pause just outside the door when I hear voices inside. "It's been seven years, Mr. Leighton. Do you still have no plans to grant Mrs. Leighton a legal status?" After a lengthy pause, Chandler finally answers, "Just wait a little longer. Heather lost both her parents… I'm the only one who can help her, so she needs this title." "What if Mrs. Leighton finds out?" "Danielle loves me too much to leave, even if she finds out. Once Heather has established her foothold in the business industry, I'll make it official with Danielle and give her a true marriage certificate." He sounds so certain, unaware that I'm standing just outside the door with tears streaming down my face. "You'll be disappointed, you liar." I take out my phone and dial a number I haven't called in years. "Mom, I accept the Atwoods' marriage arrangement."

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

On the night of my sister’s engagement party, my life officially crashes. Again. All because of one name on the invitation. Zachary de Sanctis. My sister’s fiancé. Fiona. My ex, the guy I punched in the face five years ago. Heir to the richest old-money family in Europe. And one tiny detail only God and I know: he’s the father of my twins. For the past five years, I’ve been hiding out in a little town in Oregon, working as the CEO of a IT firm while chasing two four-year-olds who look more like their father than me. Isaac and Isabella: two mini De Sanctis clones with the last name Gómez, razor-sharp mouths, brains that run too fast, and a talent for causing trouble exactly when I need peace. My family knows I came home pregnant and alone. They just never asked who the father is, and I never offered an answer. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still Arabella Gómez, the wild one who lost her way. I thought going to Fiona’s engagement party would just mean a few hours of fake laughing, then a quiet drive back to my glass-walled house in Oregon and two sets of blue eyes calling me Mommy. Until Zach walks into my parents’ living room holding Fiona’s hand… and his gaze stays on my face a little too long. He can’t find out about Isaac and Isabella. Fiona can’t find out her perfect fiancé was mine first. And my family can’t know what really happened five years ago. Hiding a scandal between two rich dynasties is one thing. Hiding two chaotic twins who are basically their father’s face copy-pasted? That’s the real nightmare.

EXTRACT.... I felt a hand snuck behind my back and flicked my eyes open. Before I could realize it, I was sitting on Zain's lap facing him. How did I end up on his lap? I struggled to get down but he held my waist, making it hard for me to get up from his lap. "Zain, are you insane? Let me down." I screamed and he covered my mouth with his right hand. "Stop shouting, people will hear you." He said and I glared at him. He chuckled and pulled his hand away from my mouth. "I miss you, I have been thinking about you since morning." He said, his hot breath fanning my chest. I was not in for his game this midday so I struggled to get down but he would not let me. " Zain, I beg you let me go," I retorted to begging. "You did not hear what I said huh?" He asked, laughing at me with his eyes. "I heard you but please can you let me down, anyone can see you or your wife can even walk through at any moment," I tried to reason with him but it looked like his demons were at work. "You know, I am suddenly horny and I want to get you under me. That's the only way I can let you go. I want to have you right here right now." . . . Loving can be hard especially in cases where the person you are loving is unreachable. That's the situation Jenny Thompson found herself in, in love with her ex, Zain Zidat, who is now married to her sister, Susan. With both being under the same roof, can the heart stop going for what it wants? Find out in this story of love and betrayal. *BOOK 1*

How quickly everything ended by just a single day, I was just like any other girl in the world- laughing and hanging out with friends, taking endless selfies, having crushes on bad boys and nerds included. I never thought or cared about how I look. It was just mine. Normal and Easy. But everything changed in one single moment- a moment filled with fire, screaming metal, and a blur of terror that rewrote my life. I survived. Everybody says I'm lucky but this, this doesn't feel like survival it feels like a punishment, a curse. A curse that am willing to carry all my life. The accident left me with permanent facial disfigurement, and ever since, I've been stuck behind a mask I never asked to wear. My face is the first thing anyone sees, and sometimes, it feels like the only thing they see. I avoid mirrors now. I no longer go out; I can't risk being stared at. Friends faded. Invitations stopped. Of course they would stop, who would want to invite the hideous me. I would scare everyone, worse, ruin their appetite. They would move away from their tables. What did I expect? Life moved on for everyone but me. My mom is the only person in my life right now, shes' become my anchor. Even with her love, it's still hard to silence the voices in my head, the ones saying I'm hideous, broken, unworthy. I miss my old smile. I still haven't done anything in life. And this isn't about my appearance it's about my self- esteem, my confidence, my ability to feel like I belong anywhere. This is a constant battle with the mirror, with the world, and with yourself. And most days, I'm trying to find the strength to look up to.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?