Vocaloid Purple Hair

"Dimitri, I am telling you for the last fucking time, leave me the hell alone!" I yelled as the blood pulsed through my veins and my auburn hair rose. "My name isn't even Dimitri." "I really don't care. You've betrayed me and that's it. So Dimitri or whatever-" "I am Ivanovich Popov and I am not leaving you alone neither will I ever leave you alone. So it's either you come with me right now and willingly or I drag that pretty little ass while you kick and squirm. Choose wisely, Ramona." He yelled. I don't know why or how but looking at him now, the sweat running down his defined body, the way his biceps flexed and all, I felt a slight wetness pool at my panties. I clenched my legs tighter and decided to try my luck. "My name isn't Ramona either. That's my undercover name. My real name, my birth name, is Madi."

The story of 'EVERY WOMAN CANNOT BE PRETTY' is a message to millions of women around the world who feel inferior due to their average looks that ‘ Beauty is not in the face alone.’ The protagonist in this story, Sarah Liam suffers from PCOS ( Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) with side effects of being obese, acne prone and having more than normal hair growth on face and body. To top it she is short in height and has a prominent mole on her chin. In all, she is not what one can call “pretty”. Her husband wants to use her as a sex toy, her best friend betrays her trust by sleeping with her husband. Faced with treachery by loved ones, shunned by many, at the brunt of the unkindest of jokes, the story shows how Sarah manages to rise like a Phoenix, hold her head high and eke revenge on the people who have cheated her, solely with the strength of her talent and grit. But with her flawed appearance, will she ever find true love? Can she ever aspire to marry a handsome man or will she have to settle for someone similarly flawed? Read on..

"That’s it, baby. Take Daddy’s thick cock like the good slut you are,” My husband's father growls, pounding inside my pussy while my husband thrusting into my ass with brutal force. “Yes... Fuck her, Daddy... Wreck that greedy cunt.” I’m trembling, impossibly full, their cocks grinding against each other inside me, stretching me to the breaking point, every thrust sending electric shocks straight to my clit. “Beg for it,” his father snarls, his fist tightening in my hair until tears prick my eyes. “Beg your husband and your Daddy to breed this slutty holes. Tell us exactly how bad you need our hot cum leaking out of both your wrecked openings for days.” **** These aren't your typical dirty daddy stories—these filthy fantasies shatter boundaries, ignite hidden kinks you didn't know you had, and leave you dripping for more. One taste, and you'll be begging for Daddy's cock all over again.

Can fantasies come true? Evan Stewart. The quarterback love magnet, that was his nickname in high school. He just snapped his fingers, and all the girls came running. He didn't know that I existed, until that night. Well, not exactly that night. I got rid of my glasses, changed my hair, and crashed a party, to get close to him. He was my secret fantasy and as we played spin the bottle and I ended up alone with him, I was glad that I took the risk. Until the cops showed up and everyone had to leave the party. Later, opportunity knocked again, and I wasn't going to let it pass. We sat in the principal's office, and he soon found out who I was. This time, I wasn't about to let anything stand in my way, but I was scared that he'd find out my secret. I didn't know that he had secrets of his own. They were so deep that they just made me want him even more. My Stepbrother's Baby is created by Ted Evans, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

When I was born, my father left me to die beside my mother's corpse in the fields. Why? Because I looked like a ghost—white hair, white eyes—and the chaos that followed my birth terrified him. He didn’t even give me a name. Twenty years later, I’m still wolfless. Still the family punching bag. Still hated by the entire pack. And when the Alpha’s son, my mate and my step-sister framed me, I was sentenced to death by hanging. But death never came. Instead, I was claimed by another mate. The devil himself. Primus Alexander of the Theriakon Pack. The most feared, merciless creature to ever walk the earth. His goal? Find or mold a strong mate and produce an heir. My goal? Find peace, maybe even freedom. Easy enough. Or so I thought. But what happens when friends, loyal subjects and even family try every means to kill me? Because the deeper we fall, the more I uncover the terrifying truth—about his need for a child… and worse what he really is.

The darkest corners of the world hold the secrets the leaders want you to forget. Deep inside a cabin covered with moss and shadows, those secrets are not yet forgotten. Under the moon, light glistens off of shining stones lining the porch and bundles of herbs drying from the rafters. Candlelight emanates from the interior and warmth surrounds the occupant. Inside this cabin was a forrest witch who was chanting a spell as she added herbs to a small caldron. Smoke rises and electricity fills the room. Her raven hair started to rise and the smoke turned glowing green. Leaves outside the cabin started swirling in the air raising around the cabin forming a circle. “None may find me where I reside, safe in the forrest this witch hides. Safe from the evil doers and safe from their men. None may ever find me again.” Cold. Like ice from an iceberg, his skin molded smoothly across his frame. The envelop in his hands was sealed by the Elder Lords sigil pressed into blood red wax. Slipping his long pale finger, breaking the seal, one word was inside. “Urgente.” His particular talents were once again needed.

"Kill her!" "Kill her!" "Kill her!" They all chanted as she knelt before them with her head hung low. Her wet hair clung to her face as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die. Her hands were tied behind her and her legs were shackled with huge chains that sent bristle shock through her body. Her throat kept bobbing, forcing the lumps down. It has finally come to this. She thought to herself. •••• She was nothing but a weak and cursed Omega. Left to die in the terrifying Black Forest, Nyx was captured by slave hunters who wanted to have her sacrificed for the Alpha King’s sister's marriage. Her salvation came in the image of her mate, Zenith Hells, the Lycan King. But there was an hindrance. Zenith was not here for a mate but for an arranged bride. What happens when she is suddenly caught between the royal struggle for power and the throne? Will she be able to get her mate from the clutches of his fiancée and the chaos that roamed the streets of the Lycan Lands or will she be left to tend to her broken heart?

Tantalizing crimson eyes and jet black hair were all Lily could remember in the features of the enigmatic young man who saved her ten years ago when she was kidnapped. One day, she accidentally saw him again after ten years in the middle of a busy street in an unexplainable situation. Time froze for few seconds, people around her stopped moving, and in his snap of finger defreezes time, as the car in front of him lose control and crashed with the nearby truck. She was left dazed by what had just happened in front of her. The scene shocked her and triggered her memory of him. "The guy who saved me was no human," she murmured staring blankly, remembering their uncanny encounter a decade ago. "Grim Reaper?" Confusion was written on her face. He shook his head. "Non, I am Doom, and I bring death to people." After the street incident, she couldn't forget his face and his lines kept replaying in her dreams like a broken tape which made her wonder if this was part of the after-effects of her trauma or if it was destiny that aligned their stars to collide.

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

Brianna Lester, with her unusually platinum blonde hair and grayish-blue eyes, is impossible to miss wherever she goes. Her bubbly personality, hyperactivity, innate talent for tripping even while standing still, and her knack for always causing trouble ensure that she immediately catches the attention of the coolest tattoo artist around. Unfortunately, it's not her rather unique appearance that gets noticed, but her clumsiness. The moment she closes the door of the tattoo shop, one of the pictures hanging on the wall-the owner's favorite, and quite valuable-unexpectedly falls down. To make up for the damage, she ends up working at the shop until she can pay off the cost of the picture. It would all be pretty easy if a sexy tattoo artist didn't enjoy teasing her about her bad luck. By now, Brianna has resigned herself to the idea that her life is stuck in the "never a joy" zone, and her birthday is proof of that. Who can be considered lucky if they were born on a day that only comes once every four years? No one. Some people are kissed by fortune at birth, while others are kissed by bad luck. Brianna definitely falls into the latter category.