Sweat Drop Anime

My best friend, Cassidy Braun, earned a modest monthly salary of 2,800 dollars, only to constantly trash her doting husband with an annual income of 600,000 dollars, labelling him a broke loser. “That incompetent husband of mine can’t even afford a 20-carat diamond ring! “I have the looks that can bag me a billionaire. I must have been out of my mind to marry that piece of trash.” I chimed in. “You’re right. You’re practically a goddess. Only a Greek God stands a chance with you.” Eventually, Cassidy left her husband and hooked up with a trust-fund kid, just as she wanted. A year later, she was scammed out of every penny she owned and diagnosed with cancer. Fragile and broken, she came to me. “I heard that ex-husband of mine remarried and that he’s loaded now. Judging by the way he used to worship the ground I walked on, I bet he’ll drop the woman in a heartbeat if I ask to get back together.” I gave a dismissive nod while running my fingers along the new Birkin bag my husband had bought. “Oh, absolutely. He’s pretty wealthy now.”

When my family was at its poorest, a wealthy family found me and claimed that I was their real daughter. The school heartthrob I crushed on? He was my fiancé all along! Still reeling from all these surprises, a mysterious message suddenly popped up in front of me. "This is where everything changes. The cannon fodder is taken home by the female lead's parents, forced to drop out of school, and then gets pregnant by her fiancé. In the end, everyone thinks she's a harbringer of misfortune, and she's beaten to death." My hand froze as I held the paternity test results. My mom's eyes filled with tears as she took the report from me. "My poor child, you've suffered enough all these years! Don't worry. Just come home with us and rest. You're our daughter now. The family business is enough for you to live comfortably forever. You don't even need to take the SAT if you don't want to." The school heartthrob lowered his head and whispered sensually into my ear, "Listen to me, Lucia. Studying is hard. I'll take care of you from now on."

"You brought us into this mess, and the only way to fix it is to marry me!" The handsome stranger yelled at me. I felt a wave of panic wash over me. Married? To a stranger? 'A contract marriage, Sia. Two years, and in exchange, I'll give you with a percentage of my wealth. You'll be taken care of, and I'll clear up this scandal around my name." I shut my eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you, Nicholas Winthrop" I said with a half whisper. I had no choice, anyways. ********************. Waking up in the bed of Nicholas Winthrop, the CEO of Prescott Towers, was all it took for Sia Stanton's life to change. Right after breaking up with her cheating boyfriend, Sia runs into a problem that is way bigger than she can handle. Now, she's forced to make a new deal. A contract marriage with a twist: be his trophy wife and get a hefty sum of the billionaire's wealth. What will happen when Sia's past and present collide, and will she be able to confront her demons once and for all? What happens when she discovers that she has been bound to this handsome stranger, for life? Find out in this story! Please, drop a review

“Tell me,” he said, low and dangerous. “Tell me who this cunt belongs to.” “You,” I panted, spreading wider, shameless. “It’s yours—please, Micaiah—” “Come on my cock,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Show me how much you love being fucked by me.” ★⁠☆ Maliya comes home after two years abroad, hoping everything she ran from has finally cooled. But the moment she steps through the door, she realizes nothing has changed—especially not the one person she never wanted to face again. Micaiah. Her stepbrother. Her almost. Her reason for disappearing. She plans to keep her distance, start classes, rebuild her life… until her parents drop the news: they’ve transferred her to a new university, the one where Micaiah works as a professor. And they’re leaving for a three-month honeymoon, meaning she and Micaiah will be living in the same house. Alone. Maliya tells herself she can handle it. But Micaiah has his own ideas about unfinished business. Three months isn’t long… unless you’re stuck with the one person you swore you’d never fall for again.

The temperature starts to drop once we reach the top of the mountain. My two childhood friends, who swore to protect me with their lives, don't even spare me a glance. One is hastily wrapping all his clothes around Lisette Locke, while the other is warming her with his body. I'm so cold that my heart condition acts up; I beg them to save me. However, they're infuriated by this. "How can you still be trying to get our attention at a time like this, Cecilia? Run around for a while if you're cold!" "We'll buy you that white down jacket you wanted when we get back, but you can't take it from Lise now!" The rescue team arrives, and I barely make it out alive. I'm hospitalized for a week, but neither of them come to visit me. I see from my social media that they're busy celebrating Lisette's birthday. We've been friends for over a decade, yet I mean nothing when compared to the driver's daughter. I call my father and say, "Dad, "I'm willing to marry into the Jorgensen family!"

Eidolon Avenue: Where the secretly guilty go to die. One building. Five floors. Five doors per floor. Twenty-five nightmares feeding the hunger lurking between the bricks and waiting beneath the boards. The sequel to Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast (“a great read...powerful and jarring” - Cemetery Dance) returns to the voracious Eidolon as it savors The Second Feast. A narcoleptic man in apartment 2A battles a vengeful past determined to rob him of everything as he runs from the barbaric disaster of a delusional love. A woman in 2B, reinventing herself to please a callous boyfriend, discovers the horrors that wait in the shadows of her self-renovation. The man in 2C, a teacher at the nearby Catholic girl’s school, collapses beneath the brutal consequences of his lecherous desires. An older woman in 2D, after decades dedicated to the church, is cornered at last by the grisly carnage beating at the hollow center of her faith. And a college student in 2E, hungry to escape an ignored life of invisible anonymity, finds herself captured between the pages of a ravenous book. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every drop of spilled blood, every silent, complicit moment of cowardice is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved. He didn't come home. I sat alone at the table until the food went cold. Then I did what I always did. I opened Selene's profile on the pack network. New post. One hour ago. A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den. Her hand on his shoulder. Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth. The caption read: Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries. I stared at it until my eyes burned. Then I liked it. Filed the bond-dissolution request. And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months. Ethan didn't believe it when he found out. "She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates. "Give her three days." "I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back." "She always does." What he didn't understand was why I always came back. It was because I loved him. That was gone now.

"You have to stop doing that, Camilla." "Doing what?" Jesus Christ! Did she not see what she was doing? "Being so goddamn sexy, I can't stand it." She tiptoed, bringing her lips closer to my face. "Why? Why can't you stand it?" Questions, too many questions. I pulled her closer to me, so she could feel the bulging of my crotch between her legs. Her lips parted slightly, I watched her sigh in satisfaction. Her wet tongue licked her lips gently. My length hardened against her, a small moan escaped her lips. "Fuck!" I cried out and turned my back on her. I wiped my sweat off my forehead with my right palm. "Mister Ivan…" "If you call my name one more time, you won't be able to blame me for how good I'll fuck you, Camilla." I blurted out. I did not care how it sounded, I did not care that she might take me to be a pervert. I only wanted her to know what she was doing, and the effect she had on me. What I did not expect were the next words that strolled out of her lips. "Then turn around and fuck me." ~•~ From doctor and patient, to friends and then illicit lovers. Can Camilla and Ivan finally stand together to fight the forces against their relationship? Or would both retire to fate and let fear and mistrust take the lead?

He kissed my cheek and then pulled away from me, taking my legs, and spreading them wider, seating himself between them. The tip of his member teased my entrance before slowly, he pressed into me. The first thrust caused me to squeeze my eyes shut and exhaled sharply as the pain spread over my entire body. When I opened my eyes again, I could see that Arnold had a worried expression on his face. But then he continued, aiming another thrust. As he stared at me with concern, I saw in those cobalt blue orbs how he loved me… my sister actually. As I observed him exerting control over himself in an effort to prevent him from pushing all the way inside of me or ramming into me, sweat began to trickle down his forehead. It appeared to me that he was having just as difficult as I was, and seeing that gave me some solace. Because of the agony and the pitying feelings I had for myself, a tear trickled down from the corner of my eye. I ought to have lost my virginity to the man I love… to the man who will vow to marry me… and not to the man who already belongs to my sister. After he managed to compose himself, he rolled onto my side and buried his face into my neck while I remained unmoved, staring at the ceiling. What have I done? I gave my virginity to my sister's boyfriend for the sake of money.

I went through 100 hormone shots for him—just to finally get pregnant. Five years begging those shots to work—all for Rafe Morello. The Don with ice in his veins... but also the guy who used to wipe sweat off my forehead in the middle of the night. Everyone thought we were goals. Then I handed over my lab results, and the nurse paused, blinking up at me. "Sorry, what's your relationship to Rafe Morello? There's already a pregnancy under his wife's name." I froze. Carmela Vitale. His dead brother's wife. Spouse listed: Rafe Morello. Breathing? Suddenly optional. No tears. No drama. I just slid off my ring and tucked it into my bag. Then I called the number buried at the bottom of my drawer. My voice? Freakishly calm. "Yeah. Three days. Pick me up." It wasn't about revenge. I left because I finally got it—some people, you gotta cut loose if you ever wanna stop bleeding. Three days later, he walked into a silent bedroom. On the nightstand: my wedding ring, the signed divorce papers, and a copy of the ultrasound. He sat on the floor and just... kept rubbing that ring. Regret doesn't knock. It floods. And that night, it drowned every lie he thought he could get away with. That was when he finally figured it out—love could wreck a person worse than hate ever could.