Ritianne Borg

“Ask me what I want,” Vicious murmured into my face. The public display of affection from him—not sexual, not bullying, but pure, naked affection—filled my chest with warmth, but I tried to swallow down my hope. “What do you want?” I turned my gaze to meet his, and suddenly, we weren’t in New York, in a gallery full of people. We were in my old room. Ignoring the party and the world around us, a world that we constantly disregarded when we were together. “I want you,” he said simply. “Just you. Nothing else. Only ever you,” he breathed out in pain, closing his eyes. “Fuck, Emilia. You.” I”
― L.J. Shen, Vicious

“I want you,” he said simply. “Just you. Nothing else. Only ever you,” he breathed out in pain, closing his eyes. “Fuck, Emilia. You.” I”
― L.J. Shen, Vicious

“You were always mine. -Black”
― L.J. Shen, Vicious

“I knew the second I met you
that there was something about you I needed. Turns out it
wasn’t something about you at all. It was just you.”
― Jamie McGuire, Beautiful Disaster