Custom Breathing Styles Ideas

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

I married Leander Ivanov for love – even if our life together was more steady than passionate. After two years of building a quiet life side by side, I thought we were finally ready to start a family. I planned to tell him I was pregnant on his 30th birthday, surrounded by his favorite meal and the custom watch I’d spent months creating just for him. But when I turn on the news, I see him with Wren Harris – his first love, back in town after five years abroad. They look like the perfect couple, and the way he looks at her makes my heart shatter into pieces. When he comes home, he claims it was just a coincidence – but then Wren shows up at our door, wearing my watch and revealing the flowers he gave me were meant for her. As Wren and her mysterious business partner Leon Rossi weave their way into our lives, I start to suspect there’s more to their return than meets the eye. The rumors about a hostile takeover of Ivanov Industries aren’t just gossip – they’re part of a dangerous plan to destroy everything Leander’s family built. Now I have to fight for my marriage, my unborn child, and the company that means everything to the man I love. But can I trust Leander to choose us over the woman he once thought was his soulmate? And will the truth be enough to save us when lies threaten to tear our world apart?

“Go down on your knees and show me you can be a good little student for me.” My heart rate and my breathing became labored. “N-now?” I stuttered. “Class is about to start.” Damon smirked, uncaring that we could get caught. “I guess you’d have to be fast then.” Dahlia Carrington cuts off her parents and runs away from home and she has to survive somehow and pay for her education herself. When she isn’t granted a student loan because of her rich background, she has to resort to other means to get herself through school, which lands her in a complicated relationship with her professor. Damon Valentino knows any kind of sexual relationship with his twenty year old student is immoral, but he can’t help himself, not after having a taste of her. BOOK TWO IN THE VALENTINO SERIES CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE AND DOES NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE FIRST BOOK

On the day that Sienna gives birth to their daughter, her loving husband vanishes without a trace. Heartbroken and betrayed, she rebuilds her life, channeling her pain into a successful career as a TV presenter, but the scars of his abandonment never fully heals. Eight years later, Sienna is transferred to another city after a scandal threatens her career. At a corporate event, she is stunned to see Roman again. This time, as the powerful CEO of a multi-billion dollars company. But he doesn’t recognize her and to make matters worse, he is married to her identical twin sister. Hurt and determined not to fall for his charms again, Sienna tries her best to forget about the past and move on. But as new secrets unfold, Roman constantly showing up in her life and seducing her with every chance he gets, and her twin sister breathing down Sienna’s neck, it is not as easy as she thought it would be.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

In a world where power is king and betrayal a currency, Francesca Marino is a woman with a mission. Haunted by the brutal death of her parents, she has spent years honing her skills, waiting for the day she can exact her revenge on those responsible for their murders. Her path leads her straight to Vincenzo Lombardi, a man with bloodstained hands and buried secrets. Drawn into his world in the guise of deceit, Francesca expects a ruthless opponent. What she finds instead is a man who is both captivating and intoxicating. When their worlds collide, passion flares and the thin line between hatred and love is blurred. With truths long buried exposed, Francesca finds herself compelled to face it all—her retribution, her family, and the man whose destruction she had promised upon. With the past breathing down their necks and the future hanging by a thread, will Francesca and Vincenzo weather the storms, or will love be the ultimate casualty of a war written in blood? Power is seductive, betrayal inevitable but love? The deadliest of all the weapons.

I was randomly proposed to by an attractive billionaire who has never been known to be in any kind of relationship; he was every woman's dream man. He wasn’t just any incredibly handsome billionaire; he was New Yorks most eligible, and most fantasised-about billionaire bachelor. So when he asked me to marry him out of the blue, without even knowing my last name, I couldn’t say no. Any woman would have jump at the chance if she were in my place at that moment. But little did I know that my living hell was about to begin. Despite living in luxury, having access to money I had run out of ideas on how to spend, and being the wife of Aldwin Ellison, the insanely handsome billionaire whom influential women had clung to in the hope of being his, I still felt unloved and unhappy.. In his eyes, the only thing I was good for was satisfying his dark sexual desires; I was only meant to please him, not receive love. Determined to end my misery, I filed for a divorce unaware that the marriage contract I signed with Aldwin had a hidden clause: “The marriage comes to an end If, and only when, Aldwin Ellison says so.” I had signed away my rights to becoming his plaything.

Warning: dark romance. His lips trailed from the crook of her neck upward until they reached her lips, and then he took her lips in, taking every bit of it; licking every corner, and every nook. She tasted perfect, as though he had never been with a woman. Rolland snatched her clothes and pulled her closer before moving his mouth to her ears, he rolled his wet tongue over her earlobe, making her moan out. Then he whispered into her ears. “Every part of you is mine, yes?” he growled, making her squirm under him. Breathing hard, Jasmine whispered back with moans; “Yes, Donovan Rolland. Yes!” Jasmine, a dancer, was sent to lure him into her charm, break him, and make him feel love again, but with a warning, to never fall in love with him. However, she did. She fell madly in love with the cold man.

⚠️ Warning: Abuse, descriptive sexual acts, please refrain from reading this if you're below 18, forbidden love, BDSM, sex control, manipulation. "Take off your dress,” he ordered, his voice quiet but commanding. One guard hesitated and tried to speak, “But, sir—” Damian’s cold stare silenced him immediately. “I said take it off,” he repeated, this time with no room for argument. The guards exchanged nervous looks and then left the room, closing the door with a chilling finality. Aurora was now alone with this man, the one who had bought her like an object. Her dress felt heavy, her heels like chains. Taking a shaky step toward him, her breathing echoed in the silence. “Please,” Aurora whispered, dropping to her knees. “I’m only eighteen. Don’t do this.” Her voice was small, trembling, but she knew he held all the power.

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.