Mtf Post Op Porn

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

“I, Neolani Griffin accept you as my mate,” I beamed, waiting for him excitedly to accept me too. There was a long pause. “Who gave you the right to call me by my name?” He snapped, anger dripping from every word he spoke.“Answer me” He barked, eyes locked on mine. “How do you know my name? It must have been the maidservants right?, I'll have them stripped off their post” He stepped away from me. “I, Ragnar Gray, reject you Noelani Griffin as my mate” Neolani never asked to be a rogue. Once an Alpha, once a daughter, her world was in shambles the night her family was murdered and her pack taken hostage by her half-uncle. Now, she’s nothing but a rogue, fighting to survive where wolves like her are despised. On the run for survival she unkowingly crosses the borders of Alpha Ragnar pack who is known for his cruelty, powerful, merciless, and loyalty to a pack that sees rogues as the enemy. Alpha Ragnar prepares to end her without a second thought, but then he feels it. The bond, she’s his mate. The one thing he swore he would never want. Worse, his heart already belongs to someone else: his beautiful childhood friend who was mated to his beta, Kendrick. He rejected the bond the moment it burned through him. But desire doesn’t wait for permission. With every stolen glance, and every reckless touch, the line between hatred begins to blur. Together, they could ignite a powerful love that is if pride and betrayal don’t destroy them first.

Believe it or not, we assume every love tale as cliche until and unless we dive into it. Both above figures had a kind of part to play here which is cannot even say as cliche. This is a story of my most favourite couple. Yeah, it's a love story, obviously! And their love chapters start on a very very boring note. Him flying back to India and her liking post on Instagram of her friends. Most important, based on their real life love series. ***Wiping tears behind the door hold a memory of precious loss in her childhood and a mysterious misunderstanding leads her to hate Avinash like anything. They haven't seen each other for years... But he wanted to meet her, talk to her. Finally, a day came and they meet which doesn't let them cross paths but instead get them together to ride on a bike of love trip. Meanwhile, both of them already had someone to fix with. If anyone thinks that after falling in love is no trouble then it's no way! Will she keep ignoring her feelings? Will he keep dragging the things? And never confess to her. Can they resist the spark they had in between them? The argue to kiss! ***This is a very twisted romantic love story that stirs hearts, that at times leaves you breathless and that manages to make us believe that, and love can do all things. Peek into Ashiyaan and Avinash's beautiful journey of finding love, hope, and magic in their own universe, which holds a passionate spark in between them.*** And Hey!! It was my first work obviously and I'm very much happy and excited to announce that this story is complete and edited. Shower your love on my book. Sure you are gonna love it.

She was ready to differentiate into Alpha the next second in the hotel, but her intentions were thwarted by the unexpected arrival of A+ Alpha... Under a strong influx of cedar-scented pheromones, Letitia ultimately differentiated into Omega. "Ahhhhh...... no!" Letitia was alarmed, kicking and punching wildly with both hands and feet, but in front of the A+ class alpha, it was like an unreasonable child. Samuel, the CEO of the Ruiz family, grimaced helplessly. His long legs pressed her flailing legs, then he pulled the belt off his robe and tied her hands firmly to the post at the head of the bed. The aphrodisiac had taken over his will and there was only one thought left in his mind: to possess her......Letitia's voice rose abruptly and she struggled with unprecedented panic . Her tender omega cavity was only just awakening when an unexpected visitor knocked on the door. "No! Not there, Samuel!" She looked at Samuel with pleading red eyes as tears fell from her eyes. Samuel smiled and released his pheromones to gently soothe the frightened rabbit beneath him. It's okay, you'll be mine forever. They were knotted... After one-night stand, Letitia thinks he doesn't remember anything and runs away. But when she found out she was pregnant with his child, he told her that they were a couple forced to be matched well under the state matching mechanism and were destined to marry. She reluctantly agreed to his proposal of marriage. But she never tells him whose child she is carrying... On their wedding night, Samuel thoughtfully tucked the corners of her covers in for her, then leaned down to listen and heard her dreaming. "I don't ...... want to ...... marry him." Samuel's smile froze at the corners of his mouth. He never just wanted to mark her...

Le jour de mon mariage, mon fiancé, Gervais Rodier, a brutalement mis fin à la cérémonie. Tout ça, à cause d'un simple post de Léonie annonçant son retour en France. Gervais a jeté l'alliance qu'il avait lui-même dessinée, puis est parti sans un regard en arrière. Je suis restée là, immobile, dans ma robe de mariée. Jasmin, mon frère, qui me soutenait, a fini par lâcher mon bras : « Clara, tu as toujours été forte. Je sais que tu peux gérer ça seule. Là, c'est Léonie qui a le plus besoin de moi. » Sur ces mots, il est parti, lui aussi. Ils m'ont abandonnée, pour la même femme. Le soir, après avoir réglé les derniers détails de ce mariage raté, j'ai reçu une photo de Léonie. Sur l'image, Gervais et Jasmin veillaient tous deux à son chevet. Le collier fabriqué par Gervais était autour de son cou, et la robe de mariée dessinée par Jasmin enveloppait son corps. Tout cela… aurait dû m'appartenir… C'était à ce moment-là que j'ai abandonné tout espoir. Les larmes aux yeux, j'ai composé un numéro : « Papa, maman… J'ai changé d'avis. Je veux rentrer chez nous. »

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

De dix à dix-huit ans, mes parents m'ont fait signer deux cent quatre-vingt-dix-neuf reconnaissances de dette. Chaque somme que je leur ai demandée, j'ai dû l'emprunter et je devais les rembourser une fois que je serais adulte. Puis j'ai eu un accident de voiture. Quand il a fallu payer les frais de chirurgie, il manquait encore trois mille euros sur mon compte. À bout de ressources, je n'ai eu d'autre choix que de supplier mes parents. Mais ils ont juste eu un rire froid : « Manon Besson, tu as déjà dix-huit ans, nous n'avons plus l'obligation de te donner de l'argent ! Tu dois signer une autre reconnaissance de dette ! » Les larmes aux yeux, j'ai signé la trois-centième reconnaissance de dette. Après l'opération, cependant, j'ai vu les photos que ma sœur adoptive avait publiées sur Instagram. Sur les photos, elle fêtait ses dix-huit ans sur un paquebot à l'étranger, entourée de personnes, comme une petite princesse. Mes parents lui ont offert un luxueux appartement dans le centre de Paris et les clés d'une Maserati. Même mon ami d'enfance la regardait avec des yeux pleins d'amour. Elle a écrit : « Merci à ceux que j'aime le plus pour ce bonheur parfait. » Et moi, j'ai baissé les yeux vers la reconnaissance de dette froissée dans ma main et j'ai soudain souri. Après avoir remboursé les dettes, je n'aurais plus besoin d'une telle famille.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

Kimberly Wilson had been married to Steven Smith for two years. When Steven proposed a divorce, she agreed without hesitation. Holding a huge fortune, she began to wealth freely. The Wilson family had only one child, so who would be family continuity? Simple, she said, 'Help me post a message offering a high reward for pregnancy.' It read, "Due to my husband's car accident rendering him infertile, seeking a healthy male for surrogacy. Generous compensation." As for the requirements, 'Must be handsome, have an excellent physique, graduated from an Ivy League school, and be good in bed. Price is negotiable.' Her highly efficient personal assistant, whom she had hired at great expense, sent over photos of applicants the next day. One ultimately met her criteria and even exceeded her expectations. The side profile in the photo, noble and aloof, looked familiar. She immediately decided, 'Okay, It's him.' 'He's available anytime, but he has one prerequisite.' her assistant informed. Kimberly raised an eyebrow, 'What requirement?' 'He's a bit shy, so the lights must be off.' Only later did she realize what trouble she had gotten into. The man was not only the sole heir to the multi-billion luxury goods group-Garcia group but also the best friend of her ex-husband. Steven didn't wait for Kimberly to reconcile as usual but instead heard the news of her new romance. Despairing, he said, 'I can live without her. Don't try to persuade me.' But later, drunk, he called in the middle of the night. 'Kiki...' His voice was choked up. A cold male voice responded from the other end, 'May I ask why you're calling my wife in the middle of the night?' '......'