The Men in Black
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Attached To You ♡ 18+
...He approached me and firmly grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards one of the cabins. In a rather brutal manner, he pushed me inside, blocking the door behind him. He leaned his hand against the wall, right next to my face... - I asked you something. What do you think about it? - His behavior deeply embarrassed me. Indecent thoughts started swirling in my head... Me... He... In this confined space... With other people, women, and men on the other side of the door, completely unaware... - We're alone. There's no one else with us. You can answer me honestly now... - They're... out there... and they can probably hear every word we say. Besides, what am I supposed to judge when you're not wearing any clothes? - Shhh! - He placed his finger on my lips... - You wouldn't want someone to hear you, right? - The guy closed the distance between us, pressing his whole body against mine... - Unless... you like it? Tell me, Nunu, do you like being loud? Do you enjoy it when others can hear? - He placed his hands on my chest and started unbuttoning my shirt with one hand... 🌈 - Hia... Look! - I exclaimed cheerfully, pointing my finger at the sky. - NuNew... You are the eighth color of the rainbow to me. - P' said suddenly. - The eighth colour, what does that mean? - Just... mine. - "The light looks so beautiful in the phase of dispersion..." - What? - Ah... Valeriu Butulescu described the rainbow phenomenon that way. I believe his words have a hidden meaning. - What do you mean by that? Sorry, Nhu, but you're the last person I know who would want to analyze some poet's profound thoughts. - Yeah, that's true, poetry isn't really my thing... 🌦 It was late at night, the rain was pouring, and a cold wind was roaring. The echo of doors slamming filled the street... With a backpack on his back, wearing a black hood pulled over his head, a boy with hair as black as coal walked through the Bangkok street in a direction known only to his soul...Complete
𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞
❝𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕, 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚?❞ _____________________________ Sidharth never wanted this marriage. Trapped by circumstances and haunted by a past he didn't want to face, he told himself it was only a duty. But Noor-silent, simple Noor-was something he couldn't ignore. Her presence stirred something in him, her quietness louder than his own chaos. She never asked for anything, yet she made him face the parts of himself he wanted to forget. And as his walls started to fall, he hated that he wanted her-that he needed the warmth of someone he was never meant to have. As time went on, He began to behave in ways that were antithetical to his initial intentions. He found himself doing everything he had once vowed never to do with his wife. He became the very husband he had despised. He started to crave more, an insatiable desire that gnawed at his soul for her. And then nothing seems to satisfy his aching soul other than his arranged wife's one smile. ●An Indian arranged marriage romance. #Book-1 in #His bride series. (A standalone book) ●Bᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ Dᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʟɪɢʜᴛ BDSM. (Have a lot of grammatical and spelling mistakes.) ╰┈➤Started on: 28 April 2024 Author♥️Complete
Happy ever Dafter
A story that flood out of my fingers as I sat in front of my computer completely zoned out. The music taking up the space in my head. The reality was changed in a blink of an eye. Enjoy. (I hardly suggest you listen to one of those french house mixes while reading. They made me come up with the story)Complete
The Recursive Spiral: A Collection Of Poems
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*A man of words and not of deeds, is like a garden full of weeds. And when the weeds begin to crawl, it's like a bird upon the wall. And when the bird away does fly, it's like a lion at the door. And when the door begins to crack......... it's like a stick across your back. And when your back begins to smart, it's like a knife inside your heart. And when your heart begins to bleed, you're dead and dead and dead indeed* "What the hell is this book talking about? " Tiffany frightened threw the diary away. Suddenly she heard a voice that echoed all around her. "You're dead and dead and dead indeed" the voice repeated and she shivers as she looks around her but saw no one.....Complete
The Adorable Prince's Cold Rebellion MM Translation
I'm translating this from english website. So I don't belong this novel , please forgive me when the translation or names or something else are wrong.
...He approached me and firmly grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards one of the cabins. In a rather brutal manner, he pushed me inside, blocking the door behind him. He leaned his hand against the wall, right next to my face... - I asked you something. What do you think about it? - His behavior deeply embarrassed me. Indecent thoughts started swirling in my head... Me... He... In this confined space... With other people, women, and men on the other side of the door, completely unaware... - We're alone. There's no one else with us. You can answer me honestly now... - They're... out there... and they can probably hear every word we say. Besides, what am I supposed to judge when you're not wearing any clothes? - Shhh! - He placed his finger on my lips... - You wouldn't want someone to hear you, right? - The guy closed the distance between us, pressing his whole body against mine... - Unless... you like it? Tell me, Nunu, do you like being loud? Do you enjoy it when others can hear? - He placed his hands on my chest and started unbuttoning my shirt with one hand... 🌈 - Hia... Look! - I exclaimed cheerfully, pointing my finger at the sky. - NuNew... You are the eighth color of the rainbow to me. - P' said suddenly. - The eighth colour, what does that mean? - Just... mine. - "The light looks so beautiful in the phase of dispersion..." - What? - Ah... Valeriu Butulescu described the rainbow phenomenon that way. I believe his words have a hidden meaning. - What do you mean by that? Sorry, Nhu, but you're the last person I know who would want to analyze some poet's profound thoughts. - Yeah, that's true, poetry isn't really my thing... 🌦 It was late at night, the rain was pouring, and a cold wind was roaring. The echo of doors slamming filled the street... With a backpack on his back, wearing a black hood pulled over his head, a boy with hair as black as coal walked through the Bangkok street in a direction known only to his soul...
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