Chibi Yuri

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! WARNING: MATURED CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! (Red Gabrielle Story) Huminto saglit sa pagtibok ng puso ni Yuri ng magkasalubong ang kanilang mata ni Red- ang lalaking kay dilim at kay lalim tumingin. Takbo... iyon ang babala ng kanyang utak- ngunit paano siya makakawala sa mala-bakal nitong mga bisig gayong sa tuwing sinusubukan niyang lumayo ay ibinabalik siya nito sa bisig nito? TRAPPED SERIES#4. Trapped Series Titles ⬇️ 1.Trapped with him (Alaric) COMPLETED 2.The lonely billionaire and his maid. (Damon) COMPLETED 3. His intention (Zandro) COMPLETED 4.Trapped in his wrath (Red) COMPLETED 5.Broken hearts and promises (Miguel)ONGOING 6. The hidden wife tears (Nickolas) SOON 7. The billionaire's trick (Liam) SOON 8.His dangerous trap. (Tres) SOON 9.Forbidden desire (Jack) SOON 10.The billionaire's secret love (Wendell) SOON Genre: ROMANCE/DARK ROMANCE/STEAMY READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Dirty Game Book 1: Sky Avenido is a typically quiet, mysterious, genius and boy next door in their school but looks can be deceiving. You don't know his real self. He's obsessed with her. Dirty Game Book 2: Austin Jimenez can't accept the loss of his battle against Sky Avenido to Reese Santillan's heart but he will do everything just to get the only girl he loved in his entire life, even if he does His Dirty Tactics. Dirty Game Book 3: "Y-Yuri? Anong ginagawa mo dito?" Nauutal kong tanong habang nakatingin sa lalakeng ilang araw nang ginugulo ang buhay ko. "Is that how you welcomed me? My bestfriend's girlfriend?" He smirked that I almost lost my breath. Sana hindi ko nalang siya nakilala. Sana hindi nalang siya ipinakilala sa akin ni Zane. He is Yuri Avenido. My boyfriend's bestfriend who wants me so badly. This is the Dirty Game series of Sky, Austin, and Yuri.

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.