Unspoken
- LECTURAS 121
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- Partes 8
Contenido adultoContinúa2h 10m
Última publicación dom, jun 7, 2026
This is not just about love-this is about a love that gives without return, a love that persists even when every sign says "let go."
Sambenia loved him not at his best, but at his worst-when he was most unlovable, most distant, most broken. She didn't ask for perfection. She only wished for a little love back. Even just a sliver. Even just once.
But what happens when love feels like chasing after smoke-when you're tied by fate, only to be torn apart at the end? When you're nothing more than a "trial card" in someone else's game?
A love story full of questions left unanswered, of a wounds that keep reopening, and a heart that never stopped hoping... until it had nothing left.
A love that wasn't toxic, but exhausting.
A love that wasn't lost, but never truly there.
A love that keeps coming back-not with joy, but with pain.
How do you survive a love that never belonged to you in the first place?
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Strawberry
A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.Concluida![𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/366735281-256-k845863.jpg)
𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+]
"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫." [Slow update] They say love feels like sunlight after winter. But no one warns you - sometimes, it burns. Sometimes, it scars. I never asked for obsession, for manipulation, or for love that feels like poison. He came like wildfire - raw, relentless, unapologetic. My first. My beautiful mistake. He was dangerous in the most beautiful way. Gentle with me, brutal with the world. Every moment with him was comfort laced with chaos. His love? Honey laced with venom - sweet, addicting, and lethal. He didn't cross lines. He erased them. In his madness, I mistook devotion. In cruelty, I saw protection. How do you run from someone who'd bleed to keep you breathing? He saw the cracks no one else noticed. Whispered promises in the dark. And a part of me clung to them. In his arms, the world ceased to exist. But the next storm didn't come with fire. It came in silence. He arrived like a shadow - watching, waiting, suffocating. He didn't touch me - not yet. But I felt him, like smoke in my lungs. He studied me. Then he moved. And when he did, everything changed. He didn't want to love me. He wanted to rewrite me. His silence screamed louder than words. He wanted me to destroy myself for him. Now, I'm torn between two kinds of insanity: One who would ruin the world to protect me. Another who would ruin me to make me his world. And I can't tell the difference anymore. They circle me like wolves, each calling it love. But love was never meant to feel like this. Was it? I used to believe love was a gift. Now I know - it's a gamble. A bloody one. And in this game of obsession and betrayal, I'm no longer sure who the real villain is. Because when both players would kill you for love... What does that make you?
TOXIC REWIND
"We were never meant to last... but we couldn't stay away." They met in high school-young, reckless, and hopelessly in love. When it all fell apart, they thought that was the end. But some love stories refuse to stay buried. When they find their way back to each other, it isn't the fairytale they once dreamed of. Love turns toxic, passion turns destructive, and together, they become the worst versions of themselves. How far will they go before they finally break for good? Or is this the kind of love that never really dies, no matter how much it burns?Concluida
shattered souls
𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐖𝐘𝐍 wears pain like a second skin. It's all she's ever known, etched into her bones, buried beneath forced smiles and hollow laughter. Once passionate, once burning bright, now nothing but ash and ruin. She pretends well, but behind the sharp tongue and unbothered eyes lies a girl screaming to be seen, yet terrified someone actually might. 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍 was born into a world already at war with him. Pain wasn't just a chapter in his life, it was the whole book. Raised in shadows, fed by poison, his lungs filled with smoke and silence. He never asked for love. He never believed he deserved it. Drugs kept the demons quiet. Cigarettes kept his hands busy. Until her. The only good card he's ever been dealt, fragile, feral, and just as broken as him. Together, Liora and Ares are destruction wrapped in desire. A love not meant to be touched, yet impossible to resist. It's messy. Chaotic. Addictive. It's the kind of love that leaves scars, and still, they keep reaching for each other, again and again. What happens when two shattered souls try to build something whole out of ruin?Concluida
Unconditional Love: From Unfinished to Forever
She was his past. His "what-if." His unfinished chapter. He left without a word. No explanation. No goodbye. Just silence-cold, heavy, louder than any heartbreak could ever be. The truth came later, sharp and merciless: he had already found someone else. A new girl. A new life. And she-still trapped in the ruins of their love-was left with only questions that had no answers. She never hated him. Not truly. She hated the pain. The emptiness. The nights spent whispering his name into the darkness, hoping it would reach him somehow. She hated how her heart refused to let go, how her love-quiet, loyal, undying-remained, even when he was gone. Years passed. And then he returned. Mature. Changed. Sincere. The boy who had broken her had become a man carrying the weight of his mistakes after he knows the truth about her. Once, they had been reckless hearts, loving without knowing forever. Now, the same love returned-stronger, deeper, and more dangerous than ever. He was her peace in chaos, her truth in silence, the only man she had ever truly loved. And yet, she knew the truth: loving him again could destroy everything. It could break her all over again, or break the life he had now built. And still, the pull between them was irresistible, a force she could not deny. Her heart whispered the choice she would make, even as her mind screamed its warning. Some love-unfinished, eternal, impossible-refuses to be left behind. And she would follow it, knowing the regret that would haunt her for the rest of her life. When hearts-once they have found their other half-will chase it even into heartbreak. Even into ruin. True love is unstoppable and unconditional No matter where life leads, no matter the distance, when one heart trembles, the other reaches without hesitation- to embrace, to soothe, to whisper, "I AM ALWAYS HERE.""
Kisses Didn't Cure Me
*She spent her whole life searching for something that didn't exist - not in her family, not in the boys who swore they loved her, and definitely not in the mirror. Alone in a world that never made space for her softness, she gave up on love altogether. Until him. A man who didn't rush her healing, didn't flinch at her scars, and didn't leave when she tried to push him away. But love, for her, has never been gentle. And kisses? They never cured her before... so why would this be any different? "Kisses Didn't Cure Me" is a story about heartbreak, trauma, solitude, and the slow, dangerous art of learning to trust again.*Concluida
And Still, I loved you.
They were never supposed to meet again, but fate had other plans. They were never strangers. They just became people who knew everything about each other, Except how to fix what they broke. She loved him like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. He left like he couldn't feel it. Years passed. Cities changed. Names got softer on unfamiliar lips. But silence never erased the way they ended. And when fate threw them back into the same room, One bleeding, Other one breaking, The past didn't knock. It kicked the door down. This is not a story of falling in love. It's what happens after.
Tumor Love
Sometimes life don't go the way we planned. Sometimes we end up feeling so low, and alone. Like we're in a dark hole with no one around us, but then suddenly there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And I guess what I'm trying to say is.. You're my light, the one who helped me through the worst time in my life - And for that, I am thankful. I'm thankful that I met you, but I also hate you. I hate what you did to me, because you made me fall in love.. And then my world fell apart once again. [WARNING!! Contains mature themes, and languageConcluida
A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.
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