Love And Other Words Age Rating の小説・ストーリー

I sat there on the edge of her bed with soup on my arm and my heart in pieces and tears streaming down my face. "I love him, Mum." "Love." She spat the word like it was poison. "You don't know what love is. You're eighteen years old. You think love is butterflies in your stomach and a hard dick between your legs. That's not love. That's lust. And it's going to leave you just as empty as it left him." "He's not empty." "Get out," my mother said. "Mum—" "I said get out." I stood up. I walked to the door. I looked back at her one more time, sitting on her bed in the dark with soup dripping down her wallpaper.

"I love you." THE END

For a moment, Jemmy felt as if her brain stopped working when she heard those words. Love? Love? Love? Though she knew he liked her but not love? That 4lettered word was what made the universe the way it is... Love? She had a lot of expectations from this word. Those who loved her were people who were willing to go to lengths to fight for her happiness... She never for once believed in romantic love and that's why she always turned off his advances. Loving someone at this age wasn't so healthy. It could either make or mar them.

♕𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑅𝐸♕ 𓆙dark romance𓆙 𓆙forbidden love𓆙 𓆙betrayal𓆙 ♕𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆♕ 𓆙mature content𓆙 𓆙contains abusive stuffs𓆙 𓆙murder𓆙 𓆙non-consensual / dubious consent sexual activities𓆙

She wanted him to say those words again but she pretended to be disinterested and closed her sketchbook. “Listen, I'm trying to draw you not worship you so go back there and let me finish my job.” "I love you," he blurted out, his gaze locking onto hers. Her body shivered when he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "What did you just say?" "I love you, Maya. I love you from the bottom of my heart." "No..." she said, taking a step back. "Don't say words you don't mean. We may be soul mates, but love is more than lust or infatuation, you know."

Northon took a sit and slumped, "Then what's the other term for the 'f' word then? Having se-" "Lovemaking," Easton muttered, he flicked his glasses and continued reading the book he's holding. "And Charlie, you can try and use the term vulgar." Northon nodded, facing back to Weston. "They're 'love making'." He rolled his eyes, "Jeesh, West. You're turning 13 soon and yet you don't know inappropriate kinds of stuff like I do." I raised an eyebrow, "And you're proud of that?" "Who wouldn't?" He winked at me.

Love Love ~.............................~

Leaving Reo who is dead with lice with a million pieces of destruction in his feelings. Reo looked sadly leaving Jack. He said falling in love is never wrong. However, why is the feeling that Reo is experiencing is considered wrong, and disgusting? Worse yet, the one who said that openly was Jack, the idol of the heart for the past two years. "Jack, I'm always trying to get to you. It doesn't matter how you look at me, because I really love you." *** Jack couldn't understand Reo's attitude lately. Reo was like a man Jack no longer knew. Even though it has been ten years the friendship between the two is fine. Unfortunately, their relationship soured when Reo said he was gay.

Olivia seems very energetic, she talks a lot and has a smile on her face all the time, which really makes me feel more comfortable, because at least I don't feel like I am so lonely back home. Suddenly, the whole classroom was silent when they saw that the professor had arrived. The teacher put his hands in his pockets, went to teach and it was like dating nothing but a new Apple notebook, which I bought for him. "Today," said he, "The last half hour shall be a test." The entire class began to groan again, that there had not yet been an examination. While solving the old lesson, the entire class was equally exciting, posing that question, and volunteering to solve the problem.

“Don’t tell me this is your first time?” “It is,” I admitted. My parents were church elders, deeply rooted in purity culture, where alcohol was forbidden and virtue was prized above all else. Twenty-one years old, and I had never tasted a drop of liquor, and never felt a man’s touch beyond a hug. “There’s always a first time,” he said gently, pouring red wine into the glasses. The first sip made me wince—it was sweet at first, then sharp, the taste blooming strangely across my tongue. It burned just enough to feel new, but underneath, it warmed me, like a temporary relief.