Nawiedzony Dom
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- Votes 7
- Parts 2
Opowieść o dziewczynie, która wraz z rodziną musiała się przeprowadzić na wieś z powodów finansowych. Nikt nie chciał się przeprowadzać prócz ojca, który bardzo chciał się przeprowadzić. Gdy pierwszy raz weszliśmy do domu ( chaty ) czuliśmy czyjąś obecność, tak jakby w domu był ktoś inny oprócz nas. Nikomu z nas nie podobało się w nowej miejscowości tylko tacie. Kiedy mama zobaczyła jak brat gada ze ścianą wszystko się zmieniło...
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żyletka
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Together With You
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My First Love
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Caged By Him
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HOME [18+]
𝗕𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 =========================== He walked in and locked the door. "The only time you talk in this whole fucking week is to a little boy?" He walked towards me and started to remove his blazer and undoing his pants. "What are you doing?" I asked strongly yet I was internally trembling. "Fucking you" And with that he grabs me, turns me around, grabs my hands and pushed me down the table behind me. Before I could process, he lifted my dress, and in a second his dick entered my surprisingly wet pussy. He wasn't sweet at all. He was harsh and I tried to not moan so that I don't embarrass myself in front of others and so that he doesn't hear a voice from me. "The way people looked at you pissed me off so fucking much" I held on the table sides as he was ruthless on his thrusts and I started to cry at the pleasure and humiliation that was building up. "I just wanted to remove everyone's eyes" he said and I cried more. His thrusts were so hard that my legs lifted from the floor and were in air, my pussy was at the mercy of his dick. He bends over me and I felt a tear in my dress. He removed my hair from the back, and whispered, "Scream out loud, don't hide those pretty little moans from me, let others also know to whom does this pussy belong to" ======================== ||FAST PACED BOOK||Complete
Fate in his hands
Still mourning from the untimely death of her mother, and a week before leaving the Nassau county with her best-friend, and with that, everything else she had ever known, Sol find herself wrongfully charged and incarcerated for the murder of a member of her family. Already depressed at the idea of her once-promising future now marred by the bleak confine of a prison cell, she now also has to the deal with the fact that she has just caught the eyes of a man, whose power and reputation for brutality alone precede him. ....... "Little flower" , He said, his fingers gently tilting my head up to look at him. "Yes", I breathlessly exhaled "If you ever speak to me like that again, I will rip your fucking throat out.", He continued with a terrifying smile. ...... - And because his ancestors were never picky about their business endeavours, partly due to their direct ties to royalty, and due to their connections to upper-class members of the justice system in Europe and eventually in North America and Asia, the man's family had been direct benefactors of both world wars due to their involvement in the weapon industry, and as suppliers of the adrenaline-pumping drug both the Germans and the French/Americans were injecting in their soldiers before sending them to battle. It's safe to say the man's power knew no bound or restrain. Power that carried through with every single one of the man's actions. Indeed, The man never yelled and never raised his voice, he never had to. The man was curt in his speech. His deep, raspy, baritone voice almost always resonated through with the same monotonous tone. Unless it was to handle his bi-daily entertainments, which were often eccentric in genre and deriving from eclectic sources. It was only then, you'd see the man's eyes twinkle with amusement, frequently at the expense of others. - ______ WARNING [Contains mature, potentially triggering content]
A marriage neither wanted. A hatred neither understands. Two strangers tied by a past that stains everything between them. He never wanted a wife. Especially not her. Cold, distant, and poisoned by assumptions, Amaan enters the forced marriage with one intention- to keep his distance and keep his resentment alive. Asmaira enters with something far heavier- guilt. Not to protect him. Not to save him. But because she knows the truth of what happened... and she cannot bear to confess it. They have never met. But the moment they do, the air turns sharp- full of tension, unspoken accusations, and the kind of hate that feels too much like longing. He despises her for a sin she never committed. She punishes herself for a sin she never confessed. And marriage turns into a battleground where silence is a weapon... and closeness is a threat. In this house, love is impossible. Trust is deadly. But hatred? Hatred is the only thing keeping them alive.
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