Cool Sasuke Images Novels & Stories

A week after my engagement, I was delivered an unusual engagement gift. My phone chimed. I glanced down and saw a push notification from a social app. [Fell in love with a female livestreamer right before my engagement. I feel guilty toward my older girlfriend who's about to become my fiancée—how should I deal with this?] The user ID was "SimonLovesClaire." The profile picture showed a melancholy side view of a man wrapped in a gray scarf. I recognized him instantly. It was my fiancé, Simon Aldrich. That limited-edition scarf was the birthday gift I had given him last year.

I'm a senior white-collar professional. But I don't know when exactly it is that I've gotten infected with that… shameful ailment. It's so bad that I have to duck into the washroom during work hours just to alleviate my carnal urges. Needless to say, that ailment has completely screwed me over. That's when my husband takes me to a famous private doctor named Caleb Walden, who apparently has a unique treatment method that only he himself possesses. But during the treatment, I can feel Caleb's scorching manhood pressing against my slit…

When I am choosing who to be my fiancée, comments pop up before my eyes. "Skylar, do not choose Gwen Moore! She is a daddy's girl. If you marry her, her father will make your life miserable." "Choose Laura Colson. She may be an illegitimate daughter now and not valued, but she will rise to power and become the head of the Colson family!" In my previous life, I believe the comments and choose Laura. After the marriage, she abuses me. I end up in the hospital again and again. Once, I cannot endure it anymore and escape back home. Brandon Stone, the illegitimate son who marries Gwen in my place, stands beside my father and berates me openly. "Skylar, why do you always upset Laura? You are so immature! Do you not know how powerful the Colson family is now?" My father looks displeased as well. "Why do you keep coming back when you're already married? Send him back!" In the end, Laura beats me to death after I am sent back to the Colson residence. After being reborn, I see those fake comments again. This time, I will not just sit around and await my impending doom.

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.

My husband,Yves Gordon, got a diamond necklace at an auction. It was my birthday. The next day, I saw another woman wearing that necklace. She was Joyce Cherny, my husband's new sales director. That woman posted a dozen shorts on TikTok to show off her necklace. I commented, 'Nice necklace, but the outfit doesn't match.' Half an hour later, Yves called me. He berated, "I bought Joyce that necklace! She deserves it! She doesn't need you mocking her for it!"

My husband has an identical twin brother. Forget me. Their own parents can't tell them apart. Three years of marriage, and Logan has been perfect. Devoted, patient, bends over backwards for me. I could not name a single real flaw in that man. Except one. He and his brother like to swap lives, just to see if anyone notices. And the day I figured that out, I was already sitting on his brother's lap, two minutes from crossing a line I could not uncross.

My mom, Allison Ramsey, runs an adult store. One day, I'm so tired that I doze off inside, only to end up accidentally trapped in one of those pleasure beds. When Mr. Palmer from next door walks in, he mistakes me for the store's latest doll and proceeds to pull down my hot pants.

At the award ceremony, my fiance, Allen Walter, pulled his mistress on stage and publicly announced their relationship when he presented me with an award.. "Out with the old, in with the new. Just a man," I shrugged. My parents were furious. "Pull our investments and end all cooperation," they said furiously. My sister chimed in, "We'll retrieve the copyright. I would rather let it sit idle than sell it to them!" Allen panicked and came to apologize, but I waved him off dismissively. "Someone like you is not even worth talking to."

A client splashes water in my face. I'm trembling as I endure his insults and mockery while Wayne Gale stands and watches calmly. His arm is around his assistant as he says, "I can't believe you're incapable of handling such a menial task, Georgina. My company doesn't need useless staff!" I wipe the water from my face and down my drink. Then, I fill it again and splash the client back. Whoever wants this job can have it. I quit!

Five years of marriage, and I was finally pregnant. I couldn't wait to tell Neil—until I heard his mom say: "When are you going to tell Angela? Cece's already showing. This family needs an heir." "Just give me a little more time. I'll handle it." I froze in the doorway, the ultrasound report burning in my pocket. Neil Schmidt, your promises mean nothing.