Belly Dancer Oc

Warning! Adult only. Sincerity of love does not have to have, but enough to see the loved one is not hurt. Love is complicated and drains tears. This story tells of a woman named "Meranti" who is trapped in love between two brothers. Where Mera didn’t expect at all when Brandy, the man who married her, turned out to be Abraham’s younger sister. And Abraham himself was a man who once fell in love to Mera. Mera found it difficult to accept that fact. Without Mera knowing, Abraham still has a big enough love for Mera. Because Abraham's love was too deep, one time, the man was desperate to enjoy Meranti's body even though it was forced. Mera considered Abraham's actions a tragedy. From that tragedy, both Mera and Abraham were constantly in guilt. Coupled with Mera's pregnancy. Where Abraham had high confidence that the fetus in Mera's belly was the fruit of his depraved deeds. But, was Abraham wrong? Is Mera wrong? How about Brandy? Let's read the story here... Thank you

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!

Después de renacer, tomé la firme decisión de dejar de obsesionarme con mi amigo de la infancia, Federico Torres. En su fiesta de cumpleaños colgó un cartel que decía: «Prohibido perros y Clementina». Sin titubear, me largué a Hawái y puse océanos de por medio. Cuando comentó que el simple olor de mi perfume le revolvía el estómago, obedecí y me mudé sin chistar. Al graduarnos anunció que no pensaba respirar el mismo aire que yo en ninguna ciudad; hice mis maletas —rápido— y desaparecí para siempre. Por último, aseguró que mi mera existencia podía malinterpretarse ante su amor imposible. Asentí y, muy pronto, presenté en redes a otro chico como mi novio. Una y otra vez elegí lo contrario a lo que hice en mi vida pasada. Porque, en aquella otra vida, cuando por fin me casé con él, su amor ideal se arrojó desde un acantilado. Él me llamó asesina, me torturó, me quebró… y acabé devorada por los peces. Esta vez, lo único que quiero es vivir de verdad. Así que tomé de la mano a mi nuevo novio. Pero Federico se plantó en medio de la calle, con los ojos encendidos de rabia. —Clementina, ven conmigo ahora y olvidaré esta broma.

For seven months, billionaire heir Donovan Knight has been obsessed with one woman: Scarlet Rose, the mysterious dancer who performs at the city's most exclusive club. He's offered her champagne, his penthouse, enough money to buy the entire venue, she won't even look at him twice. Then one night, riding home from a performance, Harper Monroe crashes her bicycle directly into him. Donovan takes one look at her oversized glasses, frizzy wig, and unfortunate mole, and tells her brutally that she's not his type. Harper, who is actually Scarlet Rose in disguise, tells him he's an arrogant jerk and rides away. Days later, their meddling mothers arrange a marriage between them. Donovan is horrified. Of all the women in the city, he's being forced to marry the plain, boring girl who insulted him. Harper is equally disgusted, she's being pushed into marriage with the shallow playboy who's been harassing her alter ego for months. They agree to a marriage in name only. Separate lives. Separate bedrooms. No emotions involved.

In the two years after Bradley Vaughn's so-called "memory loss," we divorced seven times—all to keep his childhood crush Vivian Monroe happy. Number eight? Because Vivian got pregnant. "You can't have kids anyway. Once Vivian has the baby, we'll get back together. You can raise the kid." That was his usual ice-cold line as he slid the papers across the table. That night, he kicked me out—said Vivian got nauseous just seeing me. I moved into another house. Alone. In the rain. Even after I landed in the ER from a near assault, he didn't bother asking if I was okay. Then one day, I spotted him at a clinic with Vivian. He rubbed her belly and laughed, "So what if she finds out I faked the amnesia? She can't live without me. Toss her a bone, she'll come crawling." I looked away, steady. Then my phone buzzed. [How did your checkup go?]

She had taken away his best friend, and he was determined to make her pay dearly for her regrettable mistake. A ruthless mobster is willing to make a girl suffer firsthand for daring to kill his best friend, even if it was in self-defense. He will show no mercy, and simply repaying her in kind won't suffice; he knows death would be too easy for her, which is why he kidnaps her, subjecting her to a true living hell. Elisa is an exotic dancer who uses her body to attract the attention of men who pay well, money that she uses to pay for her university studies. A virgin and naive girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Eliminating every friend or acquaintance around her wouldn't be enough. His hatred is lethal and his resentment imminent. An enchanting and unknown weakness for the mafia, and a beautiful misfortune for the sweet innocent. She only wanted easy and quick money to pay for university, and now she must pay a blood debt for defending her honor. How long will that justice with a taste of revenge last? And what if that justice turns out to be a double-edged sword?

My roommate beamed with pride as she told me a horrifying secret: she had allowed a wealthy businessman to "remove" her unborn child, claiming he absorbed the baby’s fortune in exchange for a hefty payout. Chills ran down my spine. I urged her to stop meddling with such dark dealings before it destroyed her, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she threw herself into it, addicted to helping people "transfer luck" for money. Her luck ran out when she contracted a mysterious disease. When her boyfriend found out, she turned on me, tearfully accusing me of tying her to another man’s bed. Before I could even defend myself, an enraged man ran me down with his car. The next thing I knew, I woke up to find myself back in time. My roommate was leaning in close, her eyes glinting with excitement as she whispered, asking if I wanted to join her "luck transfer" schemes. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances. I noticed the slight swell of her belly and immediately sent a text to her boyfriend: "Congrats! You’re going to be a dad!"

When Levi Ezra and I got married, he had solemnly vowed he would love me for a lifetime. Seven years later, he got another woman pregnant — a woman he had so carefully tucked away in a luxurious estate, complete with everything money could buy for a perfect, pampered delivery. By the time I discovered the truth, his mistress's belly was already round and heavy. Her due date was just around the corner. Levi had hesitated — for barely a second — before instinctively shielding her behind him, as though I were some threat. He said, "Nikki, you're terrified of childbirth. Now that this baby is coming, the Ezra family will finally have an heir. You won't have to suffer anymore. We'll still be the same as before. Nothing will change." I clutched the freshly issued pregnancy report in my hand — the one confirming my own child — and let out a laugh so sharp and brittle that it shattered into tears. The day his mistress went into labor, I terminated my pregnancy. I left the divorce papers on his desk, packed my bags, and boarded the first flight to a foreign land.

My husband’s first love had a miscarriage. He insisted that it was my doing and forced me to give my daughter up. “If it weren’t for you, Becky wouldn’t have a miscarriage! You should let her have your baby! You must pay for her pain of losing her baby!” I begged for mercy and resisted him. However, he grabbed my hair and kicked my belly even though I had just delivered my baby. He tied me up and locked me up in the basement for fear that I might run away. But I was dying. He even made a nice excuse. “You’re petty and jealous. You harmed Becky too. Since you feel no remorse, I’ll punish you and lock you up in the basement to reflect on your mistakes!” Seven days later, his first love found the baby too noisy and got annoyed by the baby. Suddenly, he thought of me. “Let her have the baby. And see if she’s behaving herself.” Little did he know that I was rotting in the basement with maggots eating away at my body.

My husband Bill and his beautiful assistant Doris are laughing and eating like they're on a first date. But the joke is on me... I'm here, Bill's wife, watching them from across the room, tending to my flat belly where a little life is now living. Of course, Bill doesn’t know about the baby yet. The news is still fresh in my mind, barely a few hours old. It is supposed to be a family dinner gathering, but I'm never the welcome one but an outsider. Watching Bill take the steak cut and handed over by Doris, his young age best friend who knows him the best, I guess I'm spoiling their fun by telling them now that I'm having a baby. Three years of marriage, and his frequent absences from the family left me feeling overwhelmed and alone. I've even forgotten the reason we got married. Maybe it was a mistake to begin with. Finally, I made a decision. Divorce. But a man came along and shifted things dramatically. And it didn't occur to me that this man was still deeply connected to bill's family. He was Bill's uncle.