Rp Account Meaning นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Ga-eul was born in the lowest class status in Joseon. He belonged to the cheonmin or vulgar commoners—like butchers, shoemaker, shamans, magicians, etc. He never had a real name since he was born. Ga-eul was the one that is use to call him because of it's literal meaning that a baby boy born during fall. His family earns a living by performing at town alleys and even in gisaeng's places—typically located near the center of a town. After the early death of their parents, Ga-eul was forced to work harder for him and his sister to survive. Being a performer is not enough that's why he was urged to enter the gisaeng—trained to be courtesans, a prostitute, especially one with upper-class clients—world even though he is a male. He knows that he has a soft heart like a woman but doesn't want to be one. The life of Ga-eul is indeed miserable and unfortunate. He is literally going crazy on how he can managed to send his sister into a hospital—who has a osteosarcoma—tumor in the bone. A huge amount of money is needed for his sister's recovery. One night, while having a mental breakdown, he went to the gisaeng house to plead for his advance payment but the head gisaeng threw him outside. He cried out but then, a nobleman in his 20s approach and asked him to come inside again. He never knew that the nobleman was also struggling in a problem. He thought that the nobleman was just like the other middle class people. He plead but the nobleman offer him a huge amount of money. All he need to do is to marry him. The money offered was extremely helpful to resolve his problem, but should he really let the nobleman buy him?

The Filthiest Collection You'll Ever Read WARNING: 18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT They say some lines should never be crossed. This collection crosses every single one. Behind the altar, Father Michael discovers Sister Claire on her knees—but not in prayer. His fourteen-inch cock and her broken vows create the most sinful confession the church has ever witnessed. In the strip club's champagne room, ownership takes on new meaning when the boss claims his newest dancer in ways that blur every professional boundary. Money talks. His fifteen inches scream. The megachurch reverend with the monstrous sixteen-inch secret destroys his young secretary across his Bible-covered desk while his wife leads worship downstairs. Hypocrisy has never been so hard. Married bosses fuck their secretaries on desks still warm from morning meetings. Divorce lawyers claim vulnerable clients on the same couch where they signed papers. Addiction counselors enable relapses—the sexual kind. Therapists finally act on years of inappropriate desire when the final session becomes anything but professional. From nuns breaking vows to brides cheating the night before their weddings, from politicians risking everything to doctors violating every oath—these twenty stories explore the darkest desires we're told to suppress. Wedding rings stay on. Consequences are real. The sex is brutal, explicit, and described in devastating detail. Size matters—twelve to sixteen inches of it—and these encounters leave permanent marks on bodies and souls. No redemption. No excuses. No limits. Just raw, forbidden passion that destroys everything in its path. Are you brave enough to read what shouldn't be written?

My partner, Derek Crawford, calls himself a traditional man. On our tenth anniversary, I bought him a pair of his favorite AJ sneakers. Instead, he gifted me a bag of pastries. "Your cake is extremely tiny, and yet it costs you a few dozen dollars! Look at the pastries I got you—not only are they cheap, but they are also huge in quantity! Now this is what I call worth it!" After that, Derek tells me that he'll make it up to me by throwing an engagement party. He has also invited my parents and my relatives to the party. With anticipation brimming in our eyes, we arrive at the restaurant, only to see Derek serving us with store-bought pickles and dinner rolls. "I'm a traditional man, you see. I'm not used to fancy food and foreign cuisines. This, right here, is the basics of a traditional dinner. You don't see patriotic men like me nowadays!" My relatives' expressions change drastically on the spot. Meanwhile, my parents look very mortified. I can only smile awkwardly at them while doing everything I can to stop them from leaving. But as soon as I leave the hotel, I receive a notification from the bank that 200 thousand dollars have been deducted from my account via a supplementary card linked to it. At the same time, Derek's childhood sweetheart, Renee Young, posts a photo of her 12-layered luxurious cake on her social media account. "When I told Derek that I wanted to celebrate my birthday, not only did he buy me the most expensive strawberry cake, but he also reserved a dozen or so tables that are served with the grandest feast! "If your man loves you that much, he won't need any lessons in pampering you! Traditional men definitely know how to love and pamper their queens!" I tighten my grip on my phone. As I look back at Derek, who keeps claiming that he's a traditional man stuck to his traditional ways, I suddenly find it exhausting to continue being in a relationship with him.

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, Steven sped through the city to take me to an underground clinic. Halfway there, the encrypted communicator rang again. Julie's voice came through the speaker. "Steven, it's raining. I forgot my umbrella. Can you come pick me up?" The car fell silent. I said nothing. I pulled a black umbrella from the hidden compartment, shoved it into his arms, unlocked the passenger door, and gestured for him to pull over. Steven looked at my pale face. The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly. For once, he seemed reluctant. I opened the door and was immediately drenched by the rain. I turned around and said one last thing. "Just make sure she transfers the money on time." Even on our daughter Nora Graham's birthday, Julie's call hit right on schedule. "Steven, can you come with me to a kennel event tomorrow? All the family representatives are bringing dates. If I show up alone, I'll seem inadequate." Steven gripped the communicator and hesitated as he glanced at our daughter, who was placing candles on her birthday cake. Without even looking up, Nora picked up a piece of cake with her fork and said, "Dad, make sure that lady pays. Since it's a special occasion today, charge double."

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

Luke moved then. Fast. Too fast. One second he was across the room, the next he was in front of her, towering over her like a wall of heat and fury. His hands came up, gripping her arms not gently, not cruelly, but with a force that said he was one second from shattering. “You think I don’t fight for you every damn day?” His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with something raw. “You think I don’t take bullets for you behind the scenes? Every single move I make is to keep you breathing, Abigail. So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m doing nothing.” Her breath hitched, but the anger didn’t stop burning. “Then say it to her. Say it to their faces instead of hiding behind silence like a coward!” Something snapped in his eyes then something sharp and blazing. And before Abigail could blink, his mouth was on hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was a collision hard, punishing, desperate. All the rage, the fear, the need that had been coiling between them exploded like fire. Abigail gasped against him, her hands going up to his chest, meaning to push him away except she didn’t. Just couldn’t. Because the second his tongue slid against hers, the second his body pressed flush against hers, every bone in her body melted. Luke growled low in his throat, a sound that made heat curl deep in her belly. He spun her, slamming her gently but firmly against the wall, his hands framing her face as he devoured her mouth like he’d been starving for years.

He's Alpha Vladimir Albert Darkclaw when he's in his pack and Lord Marino Jenkins to the underworld Mafia. He's a mafia lord which everyone summit's to. Although they have other mafia Lords in Russia but they all summit to him alone. A 26 years old Lucifer........ No one messes with him and lives the next second. He buys and changes slaves like a toy. The only Alpha who taught his wolf Annihilator how feed on humans. Alpha of Feral Fury Pack, where the Pack members prays for his regime to be over but it just begun. Trained by Devil's them selves, what do you expect. He's nicknamed Lucifer......... .......................... April Lopez, an innocent girl sold to the Devil for money. She endured all kinds of torture from the Clan members until the Devil came back. An innocent act of her's made her became his personal possession, his personal slave. His to torture..... His to spoil and corrupt ...... His to fuck......... His to kill......... ******************** " Strip and position yourself in a doggy style on that dresser" he thundered dangerously, glaring at the innocent girl Infront of him who doesn't seem to understand what he's saying.... " I don't understand" she stammered with fear, trying to act strong but her voice and body failed her wildly " I won't repeat myself again" he yelled this time, causing her to start crying silently. " I don't understand the meaning of the word strip or doggy style" she cried, while Vlad stared at her coldly. How will the innocent April cope in world filled with darkness and corruption? Will she be able to escape from him or die in darkness? Will his revenge be completed knowing that he has started growing a strange feeling for the daughter of person that killed his family on that bloody night?

Alistair Kingsley's secretary, Nerina Larson, calls herself a lucky charm with a dream that she wants to achieve. Apparently, she has used the 500 thousand dollars in the company's account, which is set aside for the employees' year-end bonuses, on lottery tickets. Excitedly, she sends a voice message on the company's group chat. "This lucky charm shall win prizes for everyone! Call me the lucky charm who knows how to manage finances the best!" Alistair claims that Nerina is a very high-spirited and interesting young woman. He even criticizes me for being a stick in the mud. During the final compulsory meeting before the New Year holidays, thousands of employees are waiting for their bonuses so that they can celebrate the holidays happily. But Nerina has the nerve to tear the back-up check I've prepared into pieces in front of everyone. She claims that she has never lost when it comes to luck, so she wants to live stream the process of her scratching the lottery tickets. In my previous life, I called the security guards and had her removed from the stage. Then, I quickly used my authority to send everyone their salaries. That was how I managed to calm everyone down and helped the company avoid going into bankruptcy. With tears streaming down her eyes, Nerina rushed out of the company. "All of my fans call me the lucky queen, and that I'll definitely score the grand prize today! But now, my live streaming gig is all ruined!" On the same night, Nerina dies from hypothermia after drinking herself to a stupor on the streets. With bloodshot eyes, Alistair ran over me with his car repeatedly. "Why can't you just believe her just this once? What if she can strike the jackpot and lead everyone down the path of wealth?" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Nerina carries a few sacks of lottery tickets onto the stage. This time, I'm the first one to applaud for her. I want Alistair to witness how his beloved lucky charm can bring ruination upon the entire company!

"It's time to consummate our Marriage" Roman said as he walked inside the room. "I am not interested" I said with fear as I stood up from his couch. "And why are you not interested?' he asked. "I am only giving my body to the man I love" I said curtly. "Really? We are married come on, I need to be inside my wife now" He said as he moved closer to me. "This room is not only decorated for decorating sake. It means something" he said as he got before me. "Come on, wifey, corporate tonight or else you will see the worst of me." He said on the bed as he clapped his hands, the door opened and men came in with boxes. They placed the boxes on the floor and went out. I looked at them with curiosity. "Irina, Have you ever heard of BDSM?" He asked. This is the first time he will call my name. But what's BDSM? He opened the boxes bringing out the items there. "No, what's the meaning?" I asked him with curiosity. "And what are you doing with ropes and wipes?" I asked again. "Have you ever even had ?" He asked angrily. I was quiet for sometime for sometimes, feeling shy. "No" I said hesitantly. "Your stupid father caged you your whole life, that's so stupid of him. We don't kill woman here, we only deal with men. He should have let you out" he said. "Don't ask me any questions again, your innocent is annoying, I promise. I hate naive girls"he scoffed. "Get on the bed" he commanded. "What?" I asked. "Get on the freaking bed, don't force me to help you in getting on the bed, "

"Call me sir." He demanded."What?" I heard it correct yet asked again to make sure did I hear correct? "Don't your thick head get things at once?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows without moving his gaze from mine. No way I am going to call him sir. Thick head! It's the second time he told that. What does he think of himself?I cleared my throat and spoke. "Firstly, I'm not going to call you sir. I'm not your slave to do so. And secondly, I don't have a thick head." I protested. "Slave? Seeing a word by its abbreviation." He quirked a brow. "Your thick head has a little knowledge in it." This time he inched more close while the corner of his perfect shifted to a smirk. Move back, Mister!"Yes, I do see a word by its meaning," I said, trying not to fall in his gaze. (S.I.R = Slave - I - Remain) He got closer and closer and stooped near my ear while keeping his hands on the table, either side of me. I could feel his brushing against my earlobe when he spoke in a low deep voice. "If you don't, I'll cancel this deal." 'No! I can't let this happen.'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I am either drown into the deep green sea or flew up into the bright blue sky, for sure I was lost in his blue-green eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time marched by days into months and months into a year. Everything in my life has changed but one thing remains the same. Years ago I would've never pictured my life the way it is now.