Junghyeok Yu Novelas e Histórias

Even though he cannot read the words of the bones, a silent voice at the back of his head told him that he had found favour in the presence of the gods. “Igwurube.” The Diviner said. She also had a metal gong whose melody rhymed with her incantation “Okirikiri ka ana-aga ukwu ose anaghi ari ya elu. Let the praise of your humble servants be acceptable before your presence.” “Ise ee (Amen),” Uche nodded. The diviner discarded her works and without permission, she dragged a tomato basket and started eating from them. “Hmm,” she moaned, “This is good. Taste like tomatoes from Umulari”

They felt surprisingly comfortable on—presumably a sign of how much I hated every type of heels considering their entire purpose was to elevate me while making sure I was uncomfortable all through. Next, I was presented with a purse that could probably only fit my phone and a tampon if I forced it in enough and, as a final touch, a piece of jewelry with cold silver interlocked chains and a fading yellow rock in the middle was draped around my neck. The stylist stepped back and smiled in satisfaction but I was sure she was only doing her job. After all, she had been paid a lot for this. "There!" she exclaimed dramatically. "Even Mr. Sica cannot ignore the perfection you have become." She win

, the one with the triangular smile introduced himself. Then came the next member, "Yo. I'm Ho-jin Lee. I'm a freshman and in the same department as Jae eun's. Nice to meet you". He seemed to have a macho and manly look yet it changed into a cute baby after his cute bunny teeth appeared.

"Shut the fuck up Linda. No one gives a flying shit about pumpkin fucking pie." "Okay. Looks like someone needs some nice distressing, calming yoga," I replied, getting out the car. "Come on." "Good evening, Ella," Katrine, the yoga teacher, said to me as we entered the hall. "Good evening, Leonardo," she added although through gritted teeth. Leo put on a fake almost sarcastic smile and I had to nudge him in the side with my elbow. "How old are you again?" I hissed in a hushed tone.

But the asshole came out like a fallen angel. Min-a was a student at a private university in Seoul, South Korea, and an influencer model. He loved basketball and had a passion for painting. Min-a had long, dark brown hair, and it was currently packed into a loose ponytail. He was 187 cm tall, wearing ripped joggers, and a basketball jersey. He had a glorious jaw, and a high cheekbone, with the most beautiful set of natural rosy lips, a trait they both shared with their mom.

“Hi! I’m Reggie. I’m the maknae and, no doubt, the cutest member of DMG. Even though I’m the youngest, my hyungs should stop asking me to cook kimchi-bokkuem because I can’t. I can’t even cook eggs.” “You can cook ramyeon,” Cyber jumps in. “Oh, right! I can cook ramyeon. Also, I’m into soccer and I’m prolly the biggest Ronaldo fan.” “Hello! I’m Neo. I compose EDM and I like computer games too. I’m (almost) unbeatable on StarCraft. Even though I’m not the maknae, I’m the one who cooks a big pan of kimchi-bokkeum for the group’s secret late-night snacks.”

He is Davero Anderson Wiratama! ***

“But you, little wolf, are not going to drink. My apologies, but you’re pregnant, and I refuse to have my little nephew, or grandchild, I am not sure what I should consider him. Considering the fact that Yaroslav is my best friend, and brother by choice, what does that make your little one to me?” “That would depend on how you know my mother.” I said, and he chuckled. “But I think that grandfather would be the most adequate answer…” **************************** “An orange juice for the lady,” Lyov said, nodding at the bartender before turning to face me. The two of us were sitting at the VVIP section which was mostly quiet and empty. Most of those who were sitting here were businessmen tendi

Apart from the fact that his father counted heavy stacks of billions every day, ranked as the most eligible divorced bachelor every time, topping the pages of the wealthiest in the country—his son Soren was also on a whole other high. Soren Gregory—the perfect fucking hockey god. Oh man, he was hot. You wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t performative of me saying this shit, but Soren was fucking gorgeous. Like most hockey players, Soren was six-four in height, black wavy hair always pulled into a bun, and when he let it all down… let’s leave that to your imagination. Pierced the top of his ears—not the tip. His godlike, perfectly built body had not a single scar or tattoo on it, well except behi