Roast Meme Novels & Stories

My heart raced wildly as he leaned in, his warm breath brushing my ear. "The next time I see you kiss anyone else..." he whispered, his voice dark and lethal, " I'll make sure these pretty lips of yours are stitched shut." He wasn't supposed to care. I wasn't supposed to matter. But one kiss was all it took to turn control into obsession. I'm bound to him by a dangerous deal, living on the edge of fear and desire, never quite sure where the line is, or if it ever existed at all. Mr. Hanson is cold, powerful, and terrifyingly possessive. He thrives on control, and he hates how I slip through his fingers no matter how tightly he grips me. Every touch feels like a warning. Every breath between us feels like a threat. As fear, power, and longing blur into something I no longer recognize, I'm forced to decide how far I'm willing to go to survive a man who doesn't just want my obedience. He wants my silence. My loyalty. My heart. Because with him, love isn't gentle. It's a weapon.

Dragged to a party by her best friend Meme, Lala has a chance run-in with the local biker king Spin, who ends up saving her life when she almost drowns, only to take over and destroy it! When she meets Jonny upon his departure from the Navy, Spin is forced into redemption! Will Lala choose the good guy or the bad boy?!

Watch me roast my ex husband that set me up and humiliated me, just to make his way out of our marriage and put the blame on me. Well i made him regret it while having the best moment of my life with my new man.

Tunnels deconstructs the individual’s Romantic fascination with ‘love’ or the grammaticality of beauty. Ideally, the ‘tunnels’ in the collection are subterranean love poems from the suburban imaginary. These seemingly syntactic tunnels travel through one’s literary imagination or heterotopic dreamscapes, and while αγάπη (Greek for ‘love’) inspires these rhizomic tunnels to navigate the abysmal ‘meta-spectacle’ of gesture, language or moment of poemness, the mind like the many-colored jeepneys of Manila, where driving past roast goose restaurants in Shek Kip Mei or spotting stilt houses in Kampong Kleang, attempt to explore the transgeneric textualities of the everyday, alongside the unstructurality of time and space, the littoral and the liminal.

On my way home from picking wild berries in the woods, I see my mate, Ethan Volkov, feeding our pups roast chicken. His childhood sweetheart, Zoe Hathaway, is snuggling next to them. While chatting with Ethan about her experiences studying on the northern grasslands, she entertains the children. My five-year-old daughter is happily swinging her legs as she holds out a piece of roast chicken to Zoe, while My son carefully wipes the grease off Zoe's hands. Ethan never once looks away from Zoe. It is as if he only has eyes for her. Seeing my beloved mate and the pups I've tirelessly raised so attached to another she-wolf leaves me devastated. I draft a Bond Breaking Agreement, give up custody of the children, and leave. Pursue the herbal research career that I gave up for my family Yet later, the always calm and composed Ethan loses his composure. My daughter Katrina and my son James search everywhere for me, openly expressing their love and begging me to come home.

The Luna of the Silver Moon Pack is personally chosen by the Alpha. By tradition, candidates enter the Pack House for the annual Luna Trials, where the Alpha selects a winning dish. This was my ninth time participating. Alpha Fred chose Sophia’s undercooked venison again. The Elders glanced at my roast and told me to leave. I grabbed my bag and walked out. When I got home, my mother looked at me cautiously. "Chloe, did Alpha Fred choose you this time?" I stared at her teary eyes and the cold dinner. I had missed her birthday for nine consecutive years for these trials. Fred had sworn he loved me, an Omega. But ever since his ex, Sophia, returned, he chose her every time to protect her pride. Sophia had now been selected three times in a row. To the Pack, she was already the true Luna. And I no longer wanted to betray my mother for this unrequited love.

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house. My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age. "Is Zack almost home?" My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone. I was the one who picked up his ashes. At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low. "What is it?" The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs." Downstairs? I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together. Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…" My thoughts snapped back into place. I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me." Then, I hung up without another word.

I was just about to drink a soup meant to supplement my pregnancy, a frantic voice suddenly called out. "Mommy, don't drink it! It's an abortion drug. Someone's trying to harm you!" Startled, my hand jerked, and I knocked the soup over. My husband's cousin teared up, her voice choking, "B-But I cooked that soup myself as an apology…" I didn't pay her any heed, only checking the contents of the medicinal soup. There was a large amount of poison in it, enough to not just harm the baby, but even make it impossible for me to ever conceive again! "Mommy, it was me! I protected you!" I caressed my pregnant belly, listening as the child inside told me that he was the incarnation of a lucky star, sent to bring me good fortune. Because of this, we even gave him the nickname Lucky. And sure enough, under his guidance, I helped my husband secure numerous contracts. The whole family was overjoyed. I grew to love him even more, consuming precious supplements as if they were free. Within just three months, my family's assets grew tenfold, while I grew thirty pounds. Just as I stuffed the roast pork into my mouth, I heard a weak, faint voice. "Mom, don't listen to him! He was switched into your womb, and he stole my good luck! "If you continue listening to him, he'll be the death of us both after he's born!" Confused, I stopped eating. Who was I to believe, when there were two voices within my womb?

The company was preparing to host a major client from Qamaria. So, I pulled three straight all-nighters to put together a flawless reception plan. Unfortunately, I made a critical mistake in the middle of all that work. I completely forgot about the Qamarians' restrictions regarding the consumption of pork. By the time I realized my blunder, the menu featuring roast suckling pig had already been submitted to the catering department and could no longer be recalled. I slumped at my desk, my back drenched in cold sweat. If the client took offense, not only would the $300 million contract fall through, but I'd likely also be blacklisted by the entire industry. Just as I despaired and opened my computer to write my resignation letter, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart suddenly came running over in tears. "Evelyn, I could overlook you stealing my bonuses and clients, but I've finally gotten a chance to secure a full-time position. Why would you steal my reception plan and claim it as your own?" Even my boyfriend jumped in to support her. "It's a good thing I caught it in time and changed the name to Claire's. You'd be fired if Ms. Bennett found out about this." I immediately donned the pitiful expression of someone being slandered, unable to defend herself. In truth, I was thrilled. After all, they were referring to a 300-million-dollar contract. Since the harpy loved stealing others' credit so badly, she could take the fall for it, too.

Sold to the highest bidder to pay off a blood feud, I never imagined I would be the pawn in my father's fatal game. Still, here I am before Enzo De Luca, the most vicious mafia leader in the city. Though appealing, he is cold, deliberate, and as lethal. Though my heart races just from his proximity, it is his touch that ignites me. My body betrays me and reacts to him in ways I am powerless over. And I melt as he softly, commandingly says my name. Enzo loves neither me nor another. In his deadly kingdom, I am only another bargain, another transaction. But every time we are alone, the conflict between us snaps—desire becomes a terrible addiction. Although I detest him for everything he stands for, I yearn for the way he consumes me, body and soul. He has made it quite evident—our marriage is more about power than love. Still, every angry gaze and every snatched moment in the shadow reveals something different. Benevolent underneath his icy façade lies something broken that appeals to the darkest sides of me. But depending on a man like Enzo may mean losing everything. Bound to him now, for better or worse, I am caught in a world where loyalty is brittle and treachery carries a bullet. Our friendship gets more perilous the more truths about his empire I find. And as the past calls for us, I have to question myself: will our passion be the thing that ruins us both or can I survive loving a guy like Enzo De Luca? Burning in his arms is me. But in his universe, I could roast alive.