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Mr. Wright's Internal Monologue (III)
Huling Na-update:
2025-05-06 10:00:04The lingerie.
Jesus fucking Christ, the lingerie.
My jaw clenches so hard it pops.
I didn’t buy it. Thank God I didn’t. But I thought about it. I touched it. That thin, delicate lace, black and wicked like sin itself. I imagined how it would look against her skin. I imagined it fitting her just right. Too right.
imagined her.
And something inside me whispered, “Yes. That. That belongs to her.”
Not to a lover.
Not to some teenage boy fumbling in the dark.
To me.
That thought… that claim… it was a quiet, savage little voice in my head. And it scared the living shit out of me.
I slam my palm against the wall, trying to knock it out of me. Trying to shake it off.
No.
No, no, no.
This is dangerous. This is sick. This is fucking wrong.
She’s a child. I’m her teacher. I’m the one meant to protect her, not fantasize about how her soaked dr
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Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Movie Night: “Galaxy Goons 3: The Wormhole Wedding"
Ethan scrolled through the options like he was searching for a cure. Then suddenly: “Boom. Found it. ‘Galaxy Goons 3: The Wormhole Wedding.’”Mr. Wright exhaled sharply. “You can’t be serious.”“It’s iconic,” Ethan declared. “Best chaotic franchise since Fast & Furious went to space.”The screen lit up with the poster: a green alien in a tuxedo holding hands with a space pirate bride mid-explosion.I blinked. “What… am I looking at?”“Cinema,” Ethan said with all the pride of a film critic.Mr. Wright leaned back, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. His fingers curled loosely around his drink. The collar of his night shirt still hung scandalously low. Chest tan and annoyingly sculpted. Vaguely illegal.I ignored it.Badly.The movie started with a spaceship crashing into a wedding.Literally. On the altar. Someone screamed “YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE” as laser beams flew across the screen.I snorted into my drink. Ethan cackled beside me.Mr. Wright… b
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Football Match...I hate!
I was cold inside.Not physically. The haunted house hadn’t followed me out with its fake blood and broken mirrors.But my hands were still trembling faintly.My pulse hadn’t really slowed down.And my brain? It wouldn’t stop replaying the sound of the wall slamming down. The screaming. The blackness. The touch of his hand.But I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I didn’t want to be that girl — the one who drags her friends down because her heart’s still skipping beats from fear and confusion.So I smiled. Or, at least, tried to.Ethan found us a small restaurant tucked away near the edge of the park — dim lighting, red booths, cheap checkered tablecloths, and the kind of menu that stuck to your hands a little if you weren’t careful.“I vote carbs and regret,” Ethan announced the moment we sat down. “Pasta. Fries. Burgers. And something dangerously fizzy.”I slid into the booth beside him. Mr. Wright sat opposite, quiet as always, flipping through the menu like he was studying an ancient
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Danger Wearing Comfort’s Clothes
We hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, and Mr. Wright was already looking at Ethan like he’d just been handed a death sentence wrapped in glitter.His arms were crossed. His jaw—tight enough to cut stone. His expression? The literary equivalent of discovering his carefully curated novel had been replaced with a neon-pink comic strip titled “FUNLANDYLAND.”“You brought me to an amusement park?” he said, voice clipped, eyes cold, like Ethan had just insulted Shakespeare to his face.“Surprise!” Ethan beamed, radiating chaos.“I told you I wanted peace.” Mr. Wright’s tone sounded like it belonged at a funeral, preferably Ethan’s.“And I gave you pieces,” Ethan declared dramatically, “of joy! Of excitement! Of your lost youth!”Mr. Wright didn’t respond. Just turned his head ever-so-slowly with a look that could vaporize a planet. Ethan, the unbothered phoenix, only grinned wider.I, in the backseat, shrank deeper into my hoodie.The tension in the car was so thick I could've roasted
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths They are the Perfect Couple
I chewed toast like it held the answers to life, love, and algebra.Across from me, Ethan was already done with round one and piling up his second plate like a man training for the Hunger Games. Mr. Wright—Professor Wright—was sipping black coffee with all the serenity of a man who’d seen war, and now preferred eggs over people.And me?I was trying not to fall into the unholy emotional blender that was this kitchen.Ethan wiped his mouth, leaned back in his chair, and smirked.“You know, I think I’ve found your true calling.”“Chaos?” I muttered.“No.” He pointed at Mr. Wright like he was Vanna White showing off a prize. “Househusband.”Mr. Wright choked slightly on his coffee.“Excuse me?”“I mean, look at you,” Ethan gestured, wildly animated. “You cook. You clean. You scold me. You tolerate my stupidity. You’re already halfway there. Can be a good husband material!”I blinked. “Oh my God.”“You two are a rom-com waiting to happen,” I mumbled before my brain could filter my mouth.
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Wet Morning
It was warm. Too warm.My skin buzzed with something electric, like the air before a storm. Someone was standing too close. Breathing too slow.And then—His breath. Right near my ear. Soft. Tempting."Say it, Alina..." he whispered, voice low and sinful. “Say you want me.”My fingers curled into the front of his shirt. Mr. Wright—Cristiano—he was there, right in front of me, his hands pressed against the wall behind me, trapping me like a secret.Our lips were inches apart.His eyes—dark, unreadable—burned into mine. My heart pounded so hard I could barely hear the silence between us.I could taste him already. My lips parted, slightly. Barely.So close. Just a little closer—“Alina.”A voice. Real.“Alina, wake up.”No. No no no no—just a few seconds more—I groaned. Twitched. The dream began to dissolve like fog in sunlight.“Alina, I swear to God—”“Go away, Satan,” I muttered from under the blanket, still clinging to the remnants of that dream like it was the last blanket of warm
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths The Ghosty Hallway!
I followed Mr. Wright through the dimly lit hallway, trailing a few steps behind, the soft hush of my footsteps swallowed by the plush floor beneath.The house was quiet. Too quiet.No creaking. No wind. Just the soft hum of the distant AC and the sound of his polished shoes tapping rhythmically ahead.I should’ve been scared.But I wasn’t.Because walking behind him felt safe. Even if everything about this place screamed rich, powerful, secretive—he felt steady. Like the anchor I didn’t ask for but somehow found myself needing.My fingers brushed the cold wall as I walked. Distracted. Half in a daze.And then—THUD.My body jolted forward, crashing straight into something unyielding and warm.Shit.It wasn’t a wall.It was his back.His tall, solid, infuriatingly built back.I bounced off him like a confused pinball and stumbled two steps backward, arms flailing to steady myself.He hadn’t even moved.Hadn’t even budged.“FUCK—” I yelped, grabbing my forehead, mortified. “I—I didn’t
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