Chasing ashes...(On Hold)
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- Parts 5
She was a saint with the lips of sinner.
He was a devil with an angelic kiss.
And his love was the most exquisite form of self-destruction, because loving someone who hates themselves is gripping torture with both hands, longing to an agony that never ends. Yet, she loved him with every pump in her veins.
When Martina loses everything she has ever owned, her fate falls into the hands of only one man that can save her.
They make a pact, her life, for his revenge.
Nothing more than that, right ?
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#5
tini
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365 Days Of Leon S. Kennedy
She hated him the moment he walked into her life...uninvited, cold, and way too handsome for her own safety. He claimed her like a storm claims the sea. Not gently. Not softly. But with force that made her knees tremble. "You can't force me to be your wife," she snapped, lips red with rage. "Then run," Leon said, stepping closer, voice like warm danger, "but I'll still own your shadow." Stark Aaira was born into luxury, used to glitter and games. She partied too late, kissed too carelessly, and trusted no one. Especially not men who wore suits like armor and looked at her like sin. Leon Scott Kennedy wasn't just a man. He was the man...the devil the mafia feared. Cold. Sharp. Broken in places no one dared to touch. And now, he owned her for 365 days. At first, all they did was argue. Her rebellion was loud, stubborn, messy. His silence was deadlier than a bullet. But then came a night when she kissed him first...out of fury, out of confusion. And he kissed back like she was the only thing worth ruining. Their kisses were fire. Their fights were foreplay. And their nights? A mess of tangled sheets, bruised lips, whispered names. He never kissed her soft, and she never let him win easy. But in between the rough hands and locked gazes, there were moments... Moments when he tucked her hair behind her ear and didn't say a word. Moments when she touched his scars and didn't ask where they came from. "You confuse me," she whispered one night, bare skin to bare skin. "Good," he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "I hope I burn you alive." Every night, he sat in the dark with one song on repeat, his head bowed, cigarette untouched in his hand: 🎵"I've been through hell And I don't wanna go back You say you love me But what kind of love is that?" It was more than music. It was his confession. And maybe, Somewhere between rebellion and ruin, they begin to fall... Not fast. Not clean. But real.Complete
𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧
#𝟐 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✦ 𝐀 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𓂃⋆.˚ She was light-too blinding, too pure for a man like him. He was darkness-cursed, dangerous, and utterly obsessed. He was a man of power, feared and worshipped in the same breath, ruling over the world of shadows where morality was a myth and sin was the only language spoken. Love? That was for the weak. He didn't do love. He didn't believe in innocence. Until her. She was untouched by the darkness he thrived in-a vision of purity, a forbidden fruit he had no right to crave. But the devil had never been one to deny himself temptation. And she... she was his greatest one. She should have run. He told her to. Instead, she stayed, unaware that the moment she stepped into his world, she became his. His to ruin. His to cherish. His purest sin. And now, even if heaven came calling-he'd rather burn than let her go.
𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 : 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+
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MAFIA'S PIANIST ✔
"𝘈 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵" "No?" he questioned as her eyes flew open and she nodded. "It wasn't an option baby" he whispered as he placed a kiss on her thin neck, making her shiver and clutch onto his suit "When I say something you do it" "N-No" her answer wavered and his grip on her jaw tightened. He noticed a small adhesive bandage on her neck from when the knife dug at her skin yesterday. His thumb caressed the spot as her heartbeat quickened "See" his eyes met hers "I didn't even touch you yesterday, but you already have a bruise. What do you think will happen when I finally make you mine?" She gulped hard but refused to give up to a person who was practically a stranger to her "I'm not yours" she breathed out. "Again, not an option baby" ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁ Abigor Hayes, the mafia feared by nations. He was known for committing every single crime that the world has known, but never getting caught for it. Being the current head of the powerful Hayes family, no one could even touch him. What happens when the Mafia King attends the annual ball and meets Aria Leighton, a woman with unearthly beauty and magic in her fingers? He now wanted what he shouldn't have, but are things really as simple as Aria makes them seem to be?Complete
She hated him the moment he walked into her life...uninvited, cold, and way too handsome for her own safety. He claimed her like a storm claims the sea. Not gently. Not softly. But with force that made her knees tremble. "You can't force me to be your wife," she snapped, lips red with rage. "Then run," Leon said, stepping closer, voice like warm danger, "but I'll still own your shadow." Stark Aaira was born into luxury, used to glitter and games. She partied too late, kissed too carelessly, and trusted no one. Especially not men who wore suits like armor and looked at her like sin. Leon Scott Kennedy wasn't just a man. He was the man...the devil the mafia feared. Cold. Sharp. Broken in places no one dared to touch. And now, he owned her for 365 days. At first, all they did was argue. Her rebellion was loud, stubborn, messy. His silence was deadlier than a bullet. But then came a night when she kissed him first...out of fury, out of confusion. And he kissed back like she was the only thing worth ruining. Their kisses were fire. Their fights were foreplay. And their nights? A mess of tangled sheets, bruised lips, whispered names. He never kissed her soft, and she never let him win easy. But in between the rough hands and locked gazes, there were moments... Moments when he tucked her hair behind her ear and didn't say a word. Moments when she touched his scars and didn't ask where they came from. "You confuse me," she whispered one night, bare skin to bare skin. "Good," he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "I hope I burn you alive." Every night, he sat in the dark with one song on repeat, his head bowed, cigarette untouched in his hand: 🎵"I've been through hell And I don't wanna go back You say you love me But what kind of love is that?" It was more than music. It was his confession. And maybe, Somewhere between rebellion and ruin, they begin to fall... Not fast. Not clean. But real.
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