Phoebe Thunderman Clothes

He stooped to my level. "Now, listen to me" he commanded and I instantly looked up at him. "Rule number one, no screaming. No matter what I do to you, I must not hear a single noise. If I do, it would most definitely get worse" he said and my heart hammered in my chest. "Rule number two, when I tell you to do something, you do it, or else, I will whip you repeatedly and make sure you're on the brink of death but just enough to keep you alive." He said with a wicked grin on his face. "Rule number three, follow those two rules" he said and got up. Out of the blue, he whipped me again and I screamed. I had never felt that much pain in my entire life. "Tsk tsk, you're a slow one" he said and I held my breath as I awaited the next whip. He whipped me again and I managed to stifle a scream. "Good girl" he said and went back to sit on his bed. "Now, strip." He ordered and I shakily got up and began to pull my clothes off my body. ... Kieran had a regular life until a ruthless Alpha turned it all upside down. She suffers and even gets rejected. What happens when she has a better second chance mate who is protective and the ruthless Alpha who made her life hell is butting into her life again?

The underprivileged student I've been sponsoring suddenly shows up at my birthday party, swaggering in and waving around a pregnancy report. "Look—Pheebs is pregnant with my baby! You'd better be smart and divorce her already!" I point at the report, stunned and confused. "Are you sure it's Phoebe who's pregnant with your child?" Victor Thompson, my beneficiary, smirks proudly as he fiddles with the pregnancy report. "Duh! We conceived the baby last month on our cruise trip!" The entire room falls into a stunned silence. My ex-wife, Phoebe Jackman, has been dead for three years.

Amelia, a struggling single mother, dreams of providing a better life for herself and her 4-year-old daughter, Phoebe. Unbeknownst to Amelia, Phoebe carries the blood of a unique creature inherited from her gay father, Dave. Haunted by nightmares featuring werewolves and other underworld creatures, Amelia longs to escape the city and find solace in her own home. One serene Sunday afternoon, Amelia finds herself drifting to sleep beneath the shade of a magnificent tree near her dream house. Little does she know that Martin, the charismatic leader of the Tikaluna Tribe and a werewolf with a romantic soul, is about to enter her life. Martin is instantly captivated by Amelia's beauty and falls deeply in love with her. As their bond grows stronger, Martin presents Amelia with an enticing offer - a life filled with wealth, power, and love. However, there is a condition: she must leave her daughter behind. Determined to stay with Phoebe, Amelia challenges Martin to abandon his tribe and undergo a ritual that would strip him of his immortality, allowing them to live as mortals together. Meanwhile, the townspeople desperately seek Martin's aid in protecting them from the relentless attacks orchestrated by his rival beast clan. Martin finds himself torn between his duty to his tribe and his love for Amelia. Will Martin sacrifice his immortality for the sake of love? And will Amelia prioritize wealth and power over her daughter's happiness?

My mom treated me like the dirt beneath her shoes but worshiped my cousin like a queen. Since I could walk, I had scrubbed clothes and cooked meals, but I would still be yelled at or smacked if I messed up. On the contrary, my cousin twirled in princess dresses and played the piano. She was cherished by my aunt and uncle like she was the center of their world. Then came the day everything changed. At my cousin's birthday party, my mom got drunk and spilled the secret—she switched me and my cousin at birth. It turned out that I wasn't her daughter; I was my aunt's daughter. I was over the moon. Finally, I thought I'd found my real family, people who might actually care about me. But when I told my aunt, she just smirked. "You think I didn't know? I don't want you. You'll never be my daughter." Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't understand. Why didn't anyone want me? But that day, I made a vow—I'd never beg for anyone's love again. Years later, when I got into Mayward University—the best educational institution in the country—I threw two DNA test reports on the table in front of them. For the first time, they both looked terrified.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

My husband is my supervisor. Before the Day of the Dead comes, I submit an application for leave so I can pay my respects to my late mother. However, he refuses to approve my application. He insists on having me care for his childhood sweetheart, who got into an accident. He even berates me and tells me it's my duty to care for the patients. I can't second-guess them out of jealousy. But I saw him kissing his childhood sweetheart passionately in the hospital ward. He even slipped his hand underneath her clothes at the peak of his passion. "Let me check whether your wounds are better. Do you need more treatment?" She leans closer saucily, and he spanks her. "Do you think you'd be getting this treatment if not for Kaia being pregnant?" I look down at my baby bump as my heart shatters. No wonder he insisted on having me work despite me falling pregnant. How can he possibly love me? If that's the case, I'll give them my blessings.

'Clothes wouldn't be necessary here, Milady' He should have known she was up to something when she suddenly started to act naive, when she was after all, an escort. 'W-what the hell are you doing in my room?' She had asked when he first entered But he let his third leg do the thinking and forgot to be rational. 'I usually find the hard-to-get game, silly and boring. But, I think this roleplaying stuff gets your juices flowing. How about you be my naughty student instead.' He gently tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at her lips 'I am an escort sir. Not. A. Prostitute. My job description is escort and not call girl. I'll appreciate it if you leave my room or I'll call security.' 'Is this some sort of twisted role play? I already told you to stop. I paid for the night. What the fuck is going on here?' *** It wasn't role play. The slut had a nasty game up her sleeves. Set up and then blackmail. Fucking sleazy reporters were already at his door. Louis knew how deadly the media was in pushing stories about people like him. A false story about him had previously ruined his life. His father had suffered for it as well. He decided to give the media a story that wouldn't ruin him. Who didn't prefer romance to anything else? He looked into the slut's face and threw the proposal in her face. 'You would have to marry me.'

A fallen heiress. A broken alpha. A plot for revenge…..and an unexpected twist of fate. When calamity strikes her pack, Valeria does everything within her power to save her people. Even if it means begging for help from the arrogant alpha of the rival pack. But fate has other plans in store for her and when things take an interesting turn, she's left with two choices. Sign her life away to her unexpected mate, or watch her people die. Beneath the icy demeanor and long sleeved clothes of Draaven Ventura lies a den of secrets….and a vengeful heart. When his feisty mate comes breezing through his door, seeking for help, he doesn't hesitate to use the situation to his advantage. His long assembled plan for vengeance is finally coming together, and he has the perfect pawn to use in his game.

"Loid, please! This is wrong. You are my step brother. We can't be together." Sora cried as she watched her step brother stripping his clothes in front of her. He hovered over her and kissed her hard. "Do you think I care? I marked you because you belong to me. And now, if you want her to live, you will let me take your body as well." Loid whispered in Sora's ear seductively, rubbing her thighs with his hands. "Please, don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you want me to do." Sora cried, submitting to him. "Then spread your legs for me like a good girl." He growled at her, his voice laced with lust. …………… Sora was humiliated and tortured all her life. The man she fell in love with, rejected her heartlessly. She was forced to submit to an alpha she didn't believe in. But what will happen when the twin sons of tha Alpha would start lusting for her. One is sweet candy and the other one is mean. Will Sora fall in love with any of them, or will she fight the urge to be with one of them. Will she ever find love or will she be alone and humiliated forever?

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”