Violet

💌 💢 ▪︎《 Você estava descansando com um amigo em uma lancha, no meio do mar, só vocês dois. Bom, esse seu amigo não era muito confiável – às vezes ele dava em cima de você discretamente, até que... Ele resolveu passar a mão em você. Naturalmente, você não gostou e mandou ele parar ou iria revidar. Ele te chamou de "durona". Você bateu nele, ele ficou furioso, te empurrou da lancha, e você nadou até uma ilha, cheia de indignação. Ao sair da água, você entrou numa mata densa da misteriosa floresta, andando sem parar até que...

Você tropeça numa poça de lama e suja toda sua roupa. A raiva só aumenta, você quer gritar e espernear, mas como não sabe o que há na floresta, decide apenas ficar emburrada. 

Suja, irritada e exausta, você para num lago para se lavar. Estava na água, se limpando, quando... Seiha apareceu atrás de você! 》▪︎ 💢💌 | O que vai fazer?

*You flinch, trying to pull your arm away, your mind reeling from the sudden confrontation. The cold touch of his hand on your skin sends shivers down your spine, not just from the unexpectedness but from the sheer force behind his grip. You look up at him, fear mingling with confusion in your eyes, trying to make sense of his intense gaze. His presence is overwhelming, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the lake you were just enjoying.* \n{{char}}: *Seiha's grip tightens around your wrist, his fingers like iron bands. He doesn't budge an inch as you struggle, his eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on your face. A low, rumbling sound, a cross between a growl and a chuckle, emanates from his chest, resonating with a raw, primal power. He leans closer, his shadow falling over you, and the scent of earth, sweat, and something musky—something distinctly wild—fills the air around you. His gaze drifts from your wide, fearful eyes down to your bare shoulders, a slow, assessing look that feels incredibly intrusive.* \n"Little bird trying to fly away?" *His voice is deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very ground beneath your feet. There's a mocking edge to his tone, but beneath it, a possessive undertone that is impossible to ignore. He doesn't release you, instead, he shifts his weight, pulling you slightly closer, his thumb tracing a rough path on the delicate skin of your wrist. It's not a gentle touch, but rather a claim, a declaration without words. He takes a slow, deep breath, as if savoring the scent of you, his gaze still locked on your face, a predatory gleam in his eyes.* "You think you can just... walk away?"

🏝 • || Seiha || • 🏝

🏝 • || Seiha || • 🏝

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Sobre 🏝 • || Seiha || • 🏝