Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Mila Kunis Speaking Russian

Spoil me a Little

She's not deaf, not dumb; she can speak and even laugh. But what's the usefulness of talking when you can't explain your pain to people? What is the usefulness of smiling and laughing when you will later cry? Jean was a very beautiful and cheerful young girl, but she lost her mother at the age of nine. Instead of her father focusing on her and helping her forget the pain of the death of her mother, he went ahead and brought in his wife and children. Little Jean just wanted attention, trying to gain her father's love, but all her efforts were ruthlessly washed away. She regretted not having a mother and wished for her mother to not have died. She grew up alone, with no one to speak to and no one to make her laugh. Slowly, she started forgetting how to smile and how to speak; she even forgot how to show her expressions and emotions. She was a beautiful young woman with smooth skin that glowed like a doll. When she could smile, speak, and show emotions like a normal human, she wasn't the center of attention. But when she lost all these important elements of human life, it became easy to mistake her for a doll. The worst part was that even though people believed she was a doll, some perverts still wanted to take advantage of her. Just because she was now emotionless and had forgotten how to smile and speak, they thought they could exploit her. Oops! Don't be deceived by her angelic, doll-like appearance. She had lost all emotions and feelings not for them to take advantage of her; she was, in fact, a killing god. "Don't claim that! If it weren't for his timely intervention, that ugly Man would have been dead by now. But anyway, I will still go back to him; I won't leave him be until he's dead!" That was the letter she penned. "Jean do you want this store? just nod and it's yours" "the restaurant serve her the wrong food, Lock it immediately!" "Jean this is all my years property, please sign it, it's yours"
Lovegold · 3.5K Views

More Than A Baby Mama: Less Than A Wife (A Vintage Love)

There's nothing more important than love, Mila always told herself. Even when her boyfriend cheated on her and accused her of stealing, leading to her being fired, Mila still held onto her belief. For a 24-year-old young woman to survive in a big city where she knew nobody but her cheating boyfriend, Mila had to look for work elsewhere not just anywhere, but The Montclair Club. For one night, she served as a salesperson for the launch of a new wine. As the saying goes, (In vino veritas) Truth in wine. Mila's truth was letting her hair down and having fun just for one night. The innocent woman had her own taste of a 'one wild night.' The result? A positive pregnancy test. Mila became pregnant by the hot-tempered, international playboy and heir of the Montclair Conglomerate, from a family of old money. Zyran Ciro Montclair is known to have a special hatred for the words family and poor. He only believes that the poor are leeches and liars. At the moment, the luxury of pride wasn't something Mila could afford. Jobless, pregnant, and left alone in the big city, Mila decided to go after her baby's daddy. Even if he might reject her, she had to try. And somehow, in her pursuit, she ended up on the early morning news: 'Noblesse Oblige: Montclair Heir to Marry an Unknown Poor Country Girl. It's giving Rich Prince and The Pauper. A 21st-century Fairytale.' What could possibly go wrong? you may ask. Stepping into the rarefied and unhinged world of the Montclairs, Mila realized that their realm wasn't the same as her world of black and white. Her perception of life was turned upside down, and she couldn't help but wonder. What could be so poisonous yet so good as power and money? Will Mila's love endure when faced with Zyran's 12 rules for their marriage, including the humiliating demand of: Rule No 6: “Submission is key: When I say kneel, you'll drop to all fours. Don't question it, just obey.” Will she allow herself to be consumed by the corruption that comes with wealth, or will she spread her innocence and show Zyran a world where people don't have to be used? Can their love survive the poisonous influences of power and money? . . . . . . Instagram account: Pluma_W143 Facebook page: Plumadidi Tiktok: @Plumadidi Cover belongs to me. Art by Kelveendraws
Pluma_W143 · 23K Views

xugyliglig lig

But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen? If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth? Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But the plural is not the, this, or thim! G grammarly - ADAPTED FROMBut the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen? If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth? Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But the plural is not the, this, or thim! G grammarly - ADAPTED FROMBut the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen? If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth? Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But the plural is not the, this, or thim! G grammarly - ADAPTED FROM
Aleixa_Silva · 481 Views

Shattered Doll speaks

Born not out of love, but as a tool—a mere vessel to sustain her elder sister—Elyria was never treated as a daughter, let alone a human being. From infancy, she endured an existence dictated by the will of her family, their hands cold and unrelenting as they siphoned her life away piece by piece. Every cut, every transfusion, every forced surgery stole a part of her, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. The physical pain was unbearable, but the emotional wounds ran deeper. No one comforted her. No one whispered words of kindness. She was nothing but a living sacrifice. But when her usefulness as a donor dwindled, her parents found another way to exploit her. She was thrust into a life of horror—paraded like a doll for depraved men, her body no longer hers to protect. When she refused, she was thrown into a demonic underground circus, forced to perform in grotesque spectacles that twisted her very soul. Pain was once unbearable, but over time, her mind numbed itself to survive. She stopped feeling. Stopped resisting. Stopped being human. Yet, their cruelty knew no bounds. When she was of no more use, they discarded her entirely—putting her on auction like a mere object, waiting to be bought by the highest bidder. That was the day she met Veylan Blackthorne. A man of wealth and power, but unlike the monsters bidding for her, he didn’t see her as a possession. Instead, he was fascinated—haunted—by the emptiness in her eyes, the way she seemed to drift between life and death. And so, without hesitation, he bought her. Not as a slave. Not as a toy. But as a soul in need of salvation. Thus began the battle neither of them expected. Veylan struggled to break the chains around her, but Elyria was beyond saving—or so she believed. Night after night, she was tormented by the demons of her past, and as the shadows clawed at her mind, something inside her twisted. She stopped seeing people as people. Her hands, once trembling and weak, became steady. Her heart, once capable of fear, grew cold. And when she killed for the first time, she felt nothing. It started slow, a quiet unraveling—then bloodshed followed. No one who had ever hurt her was safe. The world that tormented her would burn, and she would be the one to set the fire. Yet, through it all, Veylan stayed by her side. He didn’t fear the monster she was becoming, nor did he recoil at the darkness in her eyes. Instead, he reached deeper—pulling her back, inch by inch, from the abyss. But healing was never easy. Therapy, nightmares, relapses—she was still broken, still haunted. Yet, for the first time, she was no longer alone. And when the time came for revenge, Veylan didn’t stop her. He stood by her side, helping her destroy the ones who had made her suffer. When the blood had dried and the screams had faded, Elyria was free. Truly free. And in that freedom, she chose him. Their wedding was not a fairytale, nor was their love story soft and sweet. It was born from the ashes of suffering, tempered by battle, and strengthened by survival. Even as her demons lingered, she found light. For the first time in her life, she was not just living—she was alive. And with Veylan, she would continue to walk forward, no longer a shattered doll—but a woman reclaiming her own destiny.
ummi_mau · 742 Views
Related Topics
More