Neytiri Crying Novels & Stories

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and just barely recognizing yourself in the reflection? Well that is me, I have loved and lost. Survived and thrived, screamed and cried into my pillow tears nobody else got to see. But I never gave up hope, never lied down and never let them see me cry. Until him, he could see past the facade and see the real me. He wanted to love me, concole me and protect me. But I have lost hope in humanity, men, true love because life just arent a fairytale right? Its hard work and nothing comes easy even if you would like to believe it does it just doesnt. He is my mothers new husbands son and 10 years older than me. His blue eyes keep staring at me, it should warm me to the core right. Make me feel something anything. But it doesn't he makes women run after him and beg on their knees. But me, I have been down this road before. The charming smile, arrogant cocky attitude. It always ends the same, me covered in bruises crying on the bathroom floor. Thinking its all my fault, all me. But he just wouldn't let go. He wouldn't give up. And the more I turn him down the more it turns him on. I am only that strong before I give in,and even though I know how this is about to end. If he keeps staring at me with desire in his eyes as if I am the reason he is breathing. I know I am about to take the leap this can go down to damn ways. But the question is do I or dont I. Because fear can be your anchor or it can be your wings

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.

When Astrid is kidnapped and shipped off as a gift for a king’s coronation, she becomes resentful of her life and resigns herself to death at his hands. Spared by her new captor, she must find a way to navigate the turmoil of harem life. Pitted against the other girls of the harem, and the king's favorite, she must survive attempts on her life, societal upheaval, and, most dangerous of all, a budding romance. Is she just making the good of a bad situation? Or is love truly blooming with her tyrannical owner? "Do you know who you're talking to?" He asks both angry and amused, with a dangerous flame in his golden eyes. "Loras." "Loras is a king, Astrid. A king doesn't give explanations in front of anyone. And if you don't learn that, this palace will kill you." He doesn't sound like he's scolding her, nor does he sound arrogant. He tells it as it is. And Astrid was aware of that. But still, it's not something that her heart could just accept. She didn't realize she was crying until his hand dries her tears. And before realizing it, he pulls her closer. "N..." She tries to oppose it, but it's too late. His lips are pressed on hers and all breath leaves her chest. His lips are soft and full, embracing her mouth entirely. "Open your mouth!" He whispers an order and she can only obey. Her knees are melting so she grabs his neck. He puts his arms around her and lifts her up, pressing her body into the wall, trapping her. And then, suddenly, just when she was starting to get used to the maddening sensation of his touch, he steps back. "Don't you want to finish the conversation about Lysa?" He asks.

After seven years of marriage, Kayla Campbell had finally become pregnant. But during her prenatal checkup, she noticed something was wrong. The space to fill in the name of the child’s father was blank. She instinctively spoke up. "The father should be Luke Hudson. Was it missed during registration?" In Havenport's upper circles, almost everyone was aware of how devoted the head of the Hudson family was to his wife. He loved her so deeply that he had once been willing to undergo a vasectomy for her. "Kayla, watching you take medicine and get injections again and again breaks my heart. You're everything to me. If having a child means you have to suffer like this, then I would rather never have one." Perhaps the heavens were touched by them. Luke was a man known for his decisive and ruthless nature. On the day they confirmed her pregnancy, he had knelt and pulled her into his arms, crying until his voice gave out. He had personally handled all the medical registration paperwork afterward. With how carefully he treated her, a mistake like this made no sense. The staff member was clearly new to the job, and she worked at the computer for a long while before finally nodding. "The father's name was blank when the file was created." As she continued checking, her expression changed slightly. "But Mr. Hudson's name does appear in another patient's record. He's listed as the father of her child. The mother's name is Stephanie Campbell. Do you know her?" Kayla froze. Her thoughts went blank. People in their social circle all knew Kayla's background. She had been adopted by the Campbell family. But when the family finally found their biological daughter, they accused Kayla of having taken their real daughter's place for years and kicked her out without mercy. That biological daughter was Stephanie.

By the fifth year of my marriage to James Hill, he began pretending to be his late twin brother, the late Don of the family. With that, he took over all of a Don’s duties and the role of my sister-in-law, Hilary’s husband. Every time after he slept with her, he would cut his arm open, kneel before me, and beg for forgiveness. “Pia, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Once Hilary gives birth to the heir and secures her position, I’ll fake my death and come back for you.” He told me his twin brother had died saving him, so he had to fulfill his brother’s last wish. During the year he pretended to be his brother, James slept with Hilary ninety-nine times. After a full year, Hilary finally gave birth to the family’s heir. I truly believed James would fake his death as promised, then take our son and me away from this bloody life. However, I saw him with Hilary in his arms, teasing the tiny baby she carried. “Hilary, I’ll stay with you and our child until he’s ready to take over as the next Don.” Silently, I wiped my tears and went back to my room to pack my suitcase. My son saw me crying and ran into my arms, gently wiping away my tears with his little hands. “Ma, Aunt Hilary already had her baby. Why isn’t Papa coming home yet?” I placed my clothes into the suitcase as I told him softly, “Because he doesn’t want us anymore. But don’t be sad, sweetheart. I will build us a home.” If James wanted to raise an heir, then I would return to North Atlantis’s most powerful mafia family, take my rightful place as my father’s heir, and become the Godmother of the Mafia.

“Relax. It was meaningless. It didn’t mean a thing.” Three years. That’s how long Lena Carter loved Evan Brooks—three years of loyalty, late nights, and believing she was building a future with him. Until she finds him in a hotel suite bathroom, hands braced against marble, whispering excuses while her cousin—and closest friend—fixes her lipstick in the mirror. All this happens during Lena’s promotion celebration. Lena should be home, crying into cheap wine and shattered dreams. Instead, she’s stranded on a quiet Los Angeles street at midnight, phone dead, heels in hand, with a group of drunk men circling closer than comfort allows. Then a black luxury sedan pulls up. The man who steps out wears a tailored suit, calm eyes, and an authority that makes the street go silent. Mason Hart. Billionaire. Tech CEO. And—unknown to him—the elusive owner of the company where Lena works as an executive assistant two floors below the C-suite. He offers her a ride. She hesitates. She takes it. That single decision rewrites her life. Mason doesn’t mix business with emotions. He doesn’t date employees. And he definitely doesn’t rescue strangers with haunted eyes. But Lena’s quiet strength, the way she refuses pity, the way pain sharpens her instead of breaking her—it gets under his skin. Lena just wants to forget the man who betrayed her. Mason offers distraction. Protection. Desire without promises. But Evan refuses to let go, spreading lies and suddenly desperate to “fix things.” Her cousin is determined to destroy what little Lena has left. And the closer Lena grows to the powerful CEO who signs her company’s paychecks, the more dangerous her heart becomes. Because falling for a billionaire who doesn’t believe in love might hurt worse than betrayal.

I was supposed to be the pampered youngest daughter of the Falcone crime family. My fiancé was Lorenzo, the heir to the Caruso dynasty. I had three brothers who were the most feared men on the streets. But everything changed the moment my long-lost older sister returned. "Isabella was kidnapped by our enemies when she was three. She went through hell until the family found her at eighteen. Why can’t you just cut her some slack?" "Elena, if Isabella hadn't gone missing, the Don would never have had you just to fill the void. You owe her your life. What right do you have to compete with her?" Time and again, I stepped back into the shadows for my sister. But on the night before my wedding, Isabella called Lorenzo. "Lorenzo... I’m at the Old Port docks. There’s a strange car here and three men just got out... I’m so scared..." Lorenzo didn't even wait to hear the rest. He slammed on the brakes and kicked me out of the car in the middle of a torrential downpour. I clung to the door of that black Maybach, begging him. "Lorenzo, it’s the night before our wedding. This is rival turf." "Just this once, for the sake of the family’s reputation, can’t you choose me?" Lorenzo grabbed my wrists and shoved me away. "If anything happens to Isabella, I swear I’ll send you to hell myself!" But those "three men" Isabella mentioned? They were actually our three brothers, who were only there to watch the ocean and set off fireworks with her. That night, my three brothers and my fiancé were at the seaside, showering her with affection. And I died in an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of the city. This time, I finally gave way to my sister completely. But tell me—when you saw my corpse, why were you all crying?

“Did you do as I said?” He murmured darkly, eyes slowly running over me. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice laced with shame. Although not enough to stop me from spreading my legs wider before him. His jaw flexed, a low growl escaping his throat as he lowered himself in front of me. “Show me. I want to see how you touched yourself that night.” “Right now?” I hesitated. “Yes. Right now.” He pushed forward. “I want you to take two fingers to your mouth, lick it slowly, take it all the way down there and show me how you made yourself cum. Everything.” I swallowed, my face burning red as images of that unholy night flashed in my mind. I licked two fingers as he said, trailing it all the way down to the already sleek folds between my legs. Then I dug in, the sleeky sensation pushing my eyes close. “Open them. I want to see.” My eyes managed to part, closely followed by my mouth. My folds grew slickier the more I worked my fingers in, drawing low cries from my lips. I had to close my eyes. “Open.” He growled, rising. We locked eyes, as I widened my legs, intensely flicking my wet mound until I began to feel my legs twitch. “Do I stop? Tell me what to do,” I cried. He said nothing, just sipped the wine in his hand while I continued to pound myself deeper, crying and unwilling to get to that point as I wanted him to do it himself. I needed his fingers to replace mine. To show me how a big, bad wolf tamed his prey. Finally, he set his glass aside, leaning downwards. “You really did your assignment. Now let the king give you a fitting reward.” He smirked.

No one knew that I, the one they called the Angel-Faced Executioner, had been tangled up with the heir of the Grahams more times than I could count. In the latest model sports car, Doug Graham pressed a marriage certificate into my hand, his teeth grazing my lower lip as he murmured, "The Grahams have enemies on both sides of the law. I found a shield, a way to protect you." I was ecstatic and completely swept up in it, giving him whatever he wanted. I never imagined it was the beginning of a nightmare. Doug publicly announced his engagement to the Sowles heiress, making a show of it, and he clarified that I was nothing more than a low-level enforcer in front of everyone. But that night, he left marks all over my body, whispering against my skin, "The less I care about you, the less anyone will suspect you're my real wife." From then on, he and Lindsey Sowle humiliated me at every turn. Only when we were alone would he finally show the truth, his voice strained with pain. "I know this isn't fair to you. Once I'm done using her, I'll kick her out for good." When Lindsey caused me to lose the baby, he dropped to his knees in front of me, slapping himself over and over. "That idiot keeps ending up kidnapped and abused. Serves her right!" Until one day, I was taken in a setup by Doug's rival, Chad Conner. He grabbed me by the throat and forced me to look inside the room. Lindsey was blindfolded and gagged, crying and gasping as Doug lashed her with a pink whip. "They've run this whole kidnapping stunt seven times already. You'd think they'd be tired of it by now." Tears poured down my face. So I was the fool all along, the one who got played by Doug's so-called love.

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."