Male Mario Characters

When Evelyn Foster brought a man home for the ninety-eighth time, I still thoughtfully placed two cups of tea on the nightstand along with three boxes of condoms in different flavors. Seeing how meek I looked, the man let out a scornful snort. "No wonder women all want to marry men like you. Only men like you can put up with this kind of humiliation." I smiled and said nothing. I lowered my head and looked at the message my foster sister Claire had sent five minutes ago. [The family's financial crisis has been resolved. You don't need to sacrifice yourself anymore. Once you divorce Evelyn, we'll get married.] I replied with a single word. [Alright.] Then I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement and send it to where Evelyn and I lived. I just forgot to tell my foster sister one thing. I would divorce Evelyn. But I would not marry her, either.

As I washed my wife's underthings, I discovered semen stains. It had been over two months since I last did it with Winona Sundown. She always looked down on me for not lasting long and being as boring as a dead fish. I silently accepted her criticism and mockery. That was until I saw a stranger messaging Winona with a hotel room number. The hotel just so happened to be my workplace, Pinnacle Hotel. The room number was 8102. I camped by the room, waiting to catch my prey. However, the woman at the door was a young and sensual woman. Unbeknownst to me, I had fallen into Winona's trap long ago...

After my wife had a miscarriage, the doctor said she could never have children again. She cried and told me to find another woman and to forget about her. I held her in my arms and told her I didn't care about having any children. However, I was smiling when she wasn't looking. The abortion remedy I bought in the countryside had worked much faster than I expected. After all, that child wasn't mine to begin with.

  It is never too late to begin again... I had the perfect plan in place when I pressed the reset button on my life. Keep a low profile. It was the only way to keep prying eyes off my secret. Getting into a romantic relationship with the town's number one bachelor, Mario Princeton, was not the best way to remain anonymous, but I couldn't take my eyes and hands off Mario. I tried to dismiss our tension as mere infatuation at first, but this was one truth I couldn't deny. I drew attention to myself, and now someone is blackmailing me because they know what I'm hiding. I should be honest with Mario and his family. I'm not sure how much longer I can continue to tell this lie. But, let's face it, I'm terrified of squandering my second chance. Mario is fantastic, but how will he react if he discovers that his fiancé was a prostitute?

I am a firefighter. A beam crashes onto me in the middle of a burning building. At the same time, my oxygen is about to run out. I writhe and struggle as much as I can to reach for my backup oxygen canister, only to feel my fingers brushing over a bottle of water instead. When I turn around, I see my wife, Leah Sawyer, giving the last backup oxygen canister to her new mentee, Roderick Wyndham. I begin calling out to her via a walkie-talkie. "Leah, I'm being pinned down right now, and my oxygen's running out! Where is the oxygen canister?" As Leah shields Roderick behind her, she replies impatiently, "I've already given it to Roderick. It's his first time inside a burning building, so he's frightened. Having an extra canister on him gives him a sense of security. "You're already a veteran firefighter, so you can just think up a way to resolve your situation. Don't go around wasting precious resources." I can feel thick smoke infiltrating my lungs at that moment. Feelings of asphyxiation soon overwhelm me. "My leg is broken, so I can't move at all! Without oxygen, I won't be able to hold out till I get rescued!" But Leah merely chortles in response. "Stop playing the pity card! Every time we're out on a mission, you're always the cowardly one who's terrified of dying! You have zero sense of dedication at all! I shouldn't have let you join the firefighting squad, to begin with! "What's the use of you clinging to the equipment? Giving it to the newbies is the best way of maximizing its value!" I can only smile bitterly in response. Using what's left of my strength, I switch to a public channel and begin reporting to the command center. "For the record, Captain Leah Sawyer deliberately tampered with the essential rescue equipment in order to protect Roderick Wyndham, causing me, a fellow firefighter, to be trapped in a deadly situation. "I hereby request the immediate activation of the Firefighter Emergency Evacuation Act. Also, I formally charge Leah with gross negligence and attempted homicide."

At three in the morning, the class monitor, Hayden Clark, suddenly posted a message in the group chat announcing that the graduation photos would be taken the morning after next. He then sent a payment QR code in the chat, where each student had to pay 50 dollars for the graduation photos. I told Hayden that I had my thesis defense scheduled for the morning after next and asked if the time could be changed. He immediately snapped back at me, “Is your time the only time that matters? If you can’t come, then get lost!” Wanting to keep the peace, I paid the money and went through great trouble to rearrange my schedule. But when the day for the photos finally arrived, Corin Vale told me, “The graduation photos were already taken yesterday!”

At my wedding, my wife’s bodyguard was wearing the same suit as me. He was standing to one side. When I was saying my vows, he suddenly stepped forward and slapped me. I covered my face and looked at my wife, Amelie. She looked calm, as if she knew this would happen. Seeing that she was not reacting, the bodyguard smirked and slapped me again. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. The guests below the stage were flabbergasted, even as rage burned within me. “Call the police!” “You can’t call the police!” Amelie finally said. My parents also suddenly shouted, “No one is allowed to call the police. Anyone who does would be opposing the Bennet family!”

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

In the seventh year of my relationship with Ruby Carrington, she picks me up from work in the heavy downpour one evening. When I open the door to the front passenger seat, I notice a puddle of water on the seat. A strand of short hair is there as well. Ruby grips the steering wheel without even looking at me. "I just dropped off an intern from the project department at his home. He didn't bring an umbrella with him, so he was drenched." As I sit on the damp seat, I feel my heart slowly going cold as well. "Ruby, you knew very well that I'm severely germaphobic." Ruby just chortles in response. Her tone is filled with impatience and exhaustion. "It's just a seat, isn't it? He's younger and funnier than you, not to mention he's also more handsome than you even when he's drenched in the rain. "I tried having a relationship with him. Being with him is definitely a lot more interesting than with you. But I'll still marry you, though. As long as you pretend not to know anything about my affair, we can keep this relationship going." Rain continues streaking down the window outside, and yet, I find the air inside the car even more suffocating than the rain itself.

On the day of my 30th birthday, my CEO wife, Sabrina Langford, leaves hurriedly at 3:00 am. She claims that there's something urgent going on at the company and that she won't be home the whole day. Later on, Timothy Cross, the low-income university student that Sabrina has been sponsoring, updates his social media feed. In the photo, I see Sabrina standing at the side of the road in a bikini. Two big apples are balanced on her 36D bust. The caption of the photo is, "The beautiful and hot CEO has personally come over to my house to help me sell the homegrown apples. You'll regret it if you don't buy these apples from me!" My brows are drawn into a frown immediately. When I call Sabrina, the call goes through rather quickly. "I told you I'm very busy at the company right now. If you disturb me again, I'm not going to forgive you this easily!" After that, Sabrina ends the call. But right before the call gets cut off, I can hear a car honking in her background. I'm not mad at her at all. She likes helping others to sell fruits, right? I might as well lend her a helping hand. So, I share the social media post to the company's group chat. The message I've drafted is, "Does anyone here want a batch of rotten apples? I'll even throw in a second-hand wife for free."