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Undisclosed_Desires7
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 14, 2019
- Location
- Australia
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I'm a big lover of dark themes in stories. Stuff such as cheating, abuse, mental health, substance abuse, rape, sexism, racism, corruption, degradation, objectification. Probabaly more but I'm a huge fan of all of those elements. So would love a lot of these themes in my stories and welcome other ideas that have these elements.
Haven't written up a specific prompt or character for it but a good digger/sugar daddy type story as well could be quite fun. A secretary/boss idea would also be quite fun to explore. A spoilt rich daddy's girl would also be a fun character to play as.
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When you message let me know what gender you intend to play as, I do have this some of these ideas posted in a different thread. I am open to playing either male or female roles.
A few things about me. I'm a detailed and long term orientated writer that has been doing this kind of stuff for a number of years. I do like quite a mix of plot to go alongside the smut.
I'm happy to discuss things in OOC chat, brainstorm and plans things before we dive into it and get to know my partner a bit if we are in it for the long haul but all good if you aren't into that.
I'm happy to write through a thread, pms, discord or Google docs.
I tend to do a few paragraphs and would prefer the same back. My posting frequency varies from daily, to every few days to perhaps once a week.
If you have other slice of life ideas that you think will suit me or are similar let me know.
My big kink list.
F-list - Warning
Hope to hear from people soon
In high school Zara was a fairly average girl, not having huge boobs like some girls, not styling or colouring her hair in any crazy way. She still very attractive but spent most of time concentrating on studying. Not a nerd, just wanting to make it into med school, following in her dad and older sisters footsteps.
But her entire outlook on life changed.
The date was December 31st, 2015, Zara was 18 years old, her best friend Ashley and her were planning for weeks on their New Years Eve party at Jack's house. Deciding on their outfits, their hairstyles, even the drinks they were gonna have. The two of them were inseparable, basically the sister that Zara wished she had.
But Zaras mom and dad were adamant about her spending New Years with her grandparents up in Canada instead. Obviously she protested against it, demanding to stay at home, even getting Ashley's mom to agree to her staying over for the week with them. But no, no matter how much she begged and pleaded, she was forced to visit her older relatives…
Zara got home in the new year, hearing nothing from Ash, she was confused before receiving a phone call from her mom, crying her eyes out over the phone as she explained that Ash never came home, dying in a car accident on her way to the party.
Zara felt responsible for her death, agreeing to drive the two of them there before her parents dropping the bomb onto her. It sent Zara into a wreck. She was distant from her family, taking her spiralling emotions out on all of them. Refusing to continue her studies. Doing the exact opposite of what was expected of her, rebelling against them all at any cost. Even to her own detriment.
Following Ashley's funeral, Zara had nobody to turn to, she completely disconnected from her family, she lost her best friend and had no way to truly express herself, wanting somebody to pour her heart out to. She began frequenting a local dive bar. She'd always come across an older guy, in his mid 30's. He would shower her with compliments, buy her drinks, even take her home for no charge. She actually began to think he liked her, and that he was somebody she could trust and someone who would care about her feelings.
He didn't care one bit. He took Zaras virginity in the back of his car. It hurt but she'd continue to fuck him, just in the hope that he'd care about her and the lonely situation she would find herself in. No matter how much they'd fuck, it never changed a thing. He still couldn't give two shits and it left her feeling used, dirty and alone once again.....
She missed Ash. It was her fault and she deserved to be used and manipulated. She deserved to be punished.
Zara began to regret less and enjoy her masochistic tendencies. She would love the thrill of walking alone down a darkened alleyway, it's not like she wanted anything bad to happen to herself, it was just exciting to survive such a situation unscathed. It made her appreciate her safe home, her warm bed and loving surroundings a lot more.
The idea of fucking taken guys was so much more of a thrill. Almost praying to be walked in on with a girls boyfriend below her body. Watching her face was always a picture to Zara, locking eyes with her as she would grin and ride her ashamed boyfriend.
But, nothing compares to how damaged she can be on the anniversary of Ash's death.
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This is Zara, now 21 years old, she lives alone in her own apartment (Almost a month late on rent). Working a low income job at Starbucks (although she hasn't shown up for a few days now). She started smoking quite often, admittedly having a drinking problem along with blossoming addiction issues, only coke, not the hardest stuff right? She keeps hanging out with older, more disgusting and crude guys, guys she would have looked down upon before Ash's death, but it was her fault, she needs to suffer, she deserves to be punished.
Zara would try to fall for the sweet boys, the guys that she would of happily bring home to mother with pride. She'd try to remember more of the night before, trying to make sure the sex is safer. Attempting to cut down on her drinking habits. But in the end it's usually for nothing. She'd go back to same old Zara, unprotected drunk sex, fucking gross older men, blowing somebody for a simple 8-ball. She'd cry herself to sleep, often wishing to be in Ashley's place.
Some ideas can be a a married man using her, a toxic relationship with a boyfriend, something with a therapist, cheating with friend of the boyfriend's.
But her entire outlook on life changed.
The date was December 31st, 2015, Zara was 18 years old, her best friend Ashley and her were planning for weeks on their New Years Eve party at Jack's house. Deciding on their outfits, their hairstyles, even the drinks they were gonna have. The two of them were inseparable, basically the sister that Zara wished she had.
But Zaras mom and dad were adamant about her spending New Years with her grandparents up in Canada instead. Obviously she protested against it, demanding to stay at home, even getting Ashley's mom to agree to her staying over for the week with them. But no, no matter how much she begged and pleaded, she was forced to visit her older relatives…
Zara got home in the new year, hearing nothing from Ash, she was confused before receiving a phone call from her mom, crying her eyes out over the phone as she explained that Ash never came home, dying in a car accident on her way to the party.
Zara felt responsible for her death, agreeing to drive the two of them there before her parents dropping the bomb onto her. It sent Zara into a wreck. She was distant from her family, taking her spiralling emotions out on all of them. Refusing to continue her studies. Doing the exact opposite of what was expected of her, rebelling against them all at any cost. Even to her own detriment.
Following Ashley's funeral, Zara had nobody to turn to, she completely disconnected from her family, she lost her best friend and had no way to truly express herself, wanting somebody to pour her heart out to. She began frequenting a local dive bar. She'd always come across an older guy, in his mid 30's. He would shower her with compliments, buy her drinks, even take her home for no charge. She actually began to think he liked her, and that he was somebody she could trust and someone who would care about her feelings.
He didn't care one bit. He took Zaras virginity in the back of his car. It hurt but she'd continue to fuck him, just in the hope that he'd care about her and the lonely situation she would find herself in. No matter how much they'd fuck, it never changed a thing. He still couldn't give two shits and it left her feeling used, dirty and alone once again.....
She missed Ash. It was her fault and she deserved to be used and manipulated. She deserved to be punished.
Zara began to regret less and enjoy her masochistic tendencies. She would love the thrill of walking alone down a darkened alleyway, it's not like she wanted anything bad to happen to herself, it was just exciting to survive such a situation unscathed. It made her appreciate her safe home, her warm bed and loving surroundings a lot more.
The idea of fucking taken guys was so much more of a thrill. Almost praying to be walked in on with a girls boyfriend below her body. Watching her face was always a picture to Zara, locking eyes with her as she would grin and ride her ashamed boyfriend.
But, nothing compares to how damaged she can be on the anniversary of Ash's death.
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This is Zara, now 21 years old, she lives alone in her own apartment (Almost a month late on rent). Working a low income job at Starbucks (although she hasn't shown up for a few days now). She started smoking quite often, admittedly having a drinking problem along with blossoming addiction issues, only coke, not the hardest stuff right? She keeps hanging out with older, more disgusting and crude guys, guys she would have looked down upon before Ash's death, but it was her fault, she needs to suffer, she deserves to be punished.
Zara would try to fall for the sweet boys, the guys that she would of happily bring home to mother with pride. She'd try to remember more of the night before, trying to make sure the sex is safer. Attempting to cut down on her drinking habits. But in the end it's usually for nothing. She'd go back to same old Zara, unprotected drunk sex, fucking gross older men, blowing somebody for a simple 8-ball. She'd cry herself to sleep, often wishing to be in Ashley's place.
Some ideas can be a a married man using her, a toxic relationship with a boyfriend, something with a therapist, cheating with friend of the boyfriend's.
Zoe woke from her dreamless sleep with a startle as Cooper rose next to her. Although it had been a few weeks, Zoe was still adjusting to sleeping next to someone, and the growing drug use had caused her to cease dreaming, maybe it was for the best now that her nightmares had more or less passed.
Half-asleep, she slipped out of the bed and wrapped a nightgown around her slim, slender frame. Cooper insisted she sleep naked, and she had happily obliged, but it was still something she was getting used to. Back home, she had worn pajamas to bed, usually ones given to her as a Christmas gift from her grandmother. But her grandmother had died a few months before the last Christmas, and Zoe’s world had changed so much since then. The drug use, running away from home, moving in with Cooper, sleeping with him every night and waking up with his dry cum on her body, it was still taking some getting used to
Zoe went to the kitchen dressed in only her nightgown. She still liked the idea of making breakfast everyday for her man, even if she wasn’t very good at it. It was not like she had a mothering role-model to teach her to cook. But she still tried her best, and she liked serving Cooper his breakfast. For Cooper was Zoe ’s rock, her knight in shining armour, her saviour.
Zoe was born in the poor part of poor town. Her father left when she was young, leaving her to be raised by her mother. If madness and malice could have a baby, it would have been her mom. Besides the parade of men that had come in and out of her life, the only other constant in Zoe ’s childhood was her mother’s meanness. Locked away when ‘company’ came over, blamed for her mother’s failure, beaten when she misbehaved, Zoe had an awful upbringing. Of course, the adults in her life could briefly put on the appearance of normality when the state came over; anything to keep those government cheques coming. But otherwise, outside of brief, happy visits with her grandmother at Christmas time, there was nothing positive in Zoe’s childhood.
Things only grew worse as Zoe grew older, and her body started changing. School, which had always been a safe respite from her childhood storms, became filled with cliques, puberty, and dating. At home, the parade of men ended when her mother remarried, but to a man Zoe found creepy, and who promptly moved in with them. Her grandmother grew frail and forgetful. And her own mother grew worse, accusing Zoe of being a stank, a degenerate, and a whore. With all the abuse, repressed memories, her step-father's perversions, her grandmother dying, and her failing grades, Zoe had started skipping school, and was being slowly introduced to drugs and alcohol.
The night Zoe’s life forever changed started at a party. After a particularly fierce fight with her mom, Zoe snuck out of her house with the help of her friends. They drove to a party outside of town, and that’s where she met Cooper. A friend of a friend, he was the most handsome guy she had ever seen. Zoe found herself falling for him at first sight, and they seemed to share a connection. Zoe felt like she was attached to his hip the whole party. And in a haze of alcohol and drugs, Zoe and Cooper found some privacy and hooked up. It was the first time Zoe willingly and consensually had sex, and it was the most intimate and passionate sex she had ever experience in her life.
There was hell to pay the next morning when Zoe returned home. Her mother, berating her, calling her all sorts of vile names. Her step-father, volunteering to punish her. And Zoe , yelling and screaming at both of them. What had been the most magical, special evening of Zoe ’s young life, had curdled into a morning of anger and rage. Zoe promptly locked herself in her room, and avoided all contact with her so-called caregivers.
During this turbulence, Cooper became her life-raft. Not a day went by when she wouldn’t text him or call him. With the swirl of negativity surrounding her, Cooper became a single source of happiness in Zoe’s deary life. She started sneaking out with him, skipping school to be with him, doing drugs just to be with him. Cooper became everything to Zoe, and she was head over heels for him.
It was after a particular vicious fight with her mom, after Zoe had accused her step-dad of trying to spy on her in the shower and her mother accused her of being a lying whore, that Zoe hatched her plan. She had mentioned a few times to Cooper about moving in with him, and he had never said no. She texted him, crying, begging, pleading that she couldn’t take anymore, and Cooper agreed to get her. To save her, Zoe thought. That night, Zoe pack up as much as she could, stole some money from her step-dad, and fled in the night with Cooper.
Zoe laid her attempt at breakfast on the table as Cooper sat down. Still dressed in only a nightgown, she was hoping for a little more attention before Cooper left. Staying home all day, smoking pot, and watching TV had been fun at first. But it had gotten boring, and she was far from anyone she knew. Zoe rubbed her hand along Cooper’s inner thigh, trying to tease him while her other hand slowly peeled back her nightgown, trying exposed more of her body to him. She looked at Cooper with puppy-dog eyes, almost desperate for his attention.
Half-asleep, she slipped out of the bed and wrapped a nightgown around her slim, slender frame. Cooper insisted she sleep naked, and she had happily obliged, but it was still something she was getting used to. Back home, she had worn pajamas to bed, usually ones given to her as a Christmas gift from her grandmother. But her grandmother had died a few months before the last Christmas, and Zoe’s world had changed so much since then. The drug use, running away from home, moving in with Cooper, sleeping with him every night and waking up with his dry cum on her body, it was still taking some getting used to
Zoe went to the kitchen dressed in only her nightgown. She still liked the idea of making breakfast everyday for her man, even if she wasn’t very good at it. It was not like she had a mothering role-model to teach her to cook. But she still tried her best, and she liked serving Cooper his breakfast. For Cooper was Zoe ’s rock, her knight in shining armour, her saviour.
Zoe was born in the poor part of poor town. Her father left when she was young, leaving her to be raised by her mother. If madness and malice could have a baby, it would have been her mom. Besides the parade of men that had come in and out of her life, the only other constant in Zoe ’s childhood was her mother’s meanness. Locked away when ‘company’ came over, blamed for her mother’s failure, beaten when she misbehaved, Zoe had an awful upbringing. Of course, the adults in her life could briefly put on the appearance of normality when the state came over; anything to keep those government cheques coming. But otherwise, outside of brief, happy visits with her grandmother at Christmas time, there was nothing positive in Zoe’s childhood.
Things only grew worse as Zoe grew older, and her body started changing. School, which had always been a safe respite from her childhood storms, became filled with cliques, puberty, and dating. At home, the parade of men ended when her mother remarried, but to a man Zoe found creepy, and who promptly moved in with them. Her grandmother grew frail and forgetful. And her own mother grew worse, accusing Zoe of being a stank, a degenerate, and a whore. With all the abuse, repressed memories, her step-father's perversions, her grandmother dying, and her failing grades, Zoe had started skipping school, and was being slowly introduced to drugs and alcohol.
The night Zoe’s life forever changed started at a party. After a particularly fierce fight with her mom, Zoe snuck out of her house with the help of her friends. They drove to a party outside of town, and that’s where she met Cooper. A friend of a friend, he was the most handsome guy she had ever seen. Zoe found herself falling for him at first sight, and they seemed to share a connection. Zoe felt like she was attached to his hip the whole party. And in a haze of alcohol and drugs, Zoe and Cooper found some privacy and hooked up. It was the first time Zoe willingly and consensually had sex, and it was the most intimate and passionate sex she had ever experience in her life.
There was hell to pay the next morning when Zoe returned home. Her mother, berating her, calling her all sorts of vile names. Her step-father, volunteering to punish her. And Zoe , yelling and screaming at both of them. What had been the most magical, special evening of Zoe ’s young life, had curdled into a morning of anger and rage. Zoe promptly locked herself in her room, and avoided all contact with her so-called caregivers.
During this turbulence, Cooper became her life-raft. Not a day went by when she wouldn’t text him or call him. With the swirl of negativity surrounding her, Cooper became a single source of happiness in Zoe’s deary life. She started sneaking out with him, skipping school to be with him, doing drugs just to be with him. Cooper became everything to Zoe, and she was head over heels for him.
It was after a particular vicious fight with her mom, after Zoe had accused her step-dad of trying to spy on her in the shower and her mother accused her of being a lying whore, that Zoe hatched her plan. She had mentioned a few times to Cooper about moving in with him, and he had never said no. She texted him, crying, begging, pleading that she couldn’t take anymore, and Cooper agreed to get her. To save her, Zoe thought. That night, Zoe pack up as much as she could, stole some money from her step-dad, and fled in the night with Cooper.
Zoe laid her attempt at breakfast on the table as Cooper sat down. Still dressed in only a nightgown, she was hoping for a little more attention before Cooper left. Staying home all day, smoking pot, and watching TV had been fun at first. But it had gotten boring, and she was far from anyone she knew. Zoe rubbed her hand along Cooper’s inner thigh, trying to tease him while her other hand slowly peeled back her nightgown, trying exposed more of her body to him. She looked at Cooper with puppy-dog eyes, almost desperate for his attention.
Sluggishly dragging herself back home, following another tiring day of work. It's not enjoyable listening to bratty teenagers and your perv manager hit on you... but it pays the bills, well sorta.
A scrunched up McDonalds bag in Allison's hand....again, thank the lord for her fast metabolism or she'd be in a wheelchair at this point. Slouched over slightly as she watched the footpath, her worn out pair of red Converses hitting the floor with each step. Her earphones beneath her hood blaring out Kendrick Lamar’s latest single as she walked home in her own little world, sharing glances at the fellow people walking by. A few cute guys that she'll never see again....shame.
She turned to make her way into her apartment building, collecting the mail before stepping into the elevator, a few small smiles and soft waves to the other poor bastards living in such a cesspool of a building. After punching in the button to her floor, she leaned against the rail, exhaling as she tried to calm herself down following a few stressful weeks. She walked along the stained carpet to her apartment door, looking at the walls, covered in God-knows-what liquid. The stench hits her nose like a train, she remained unfazed, conditioned to such surroundings by now.
Allison unlocked the door, closing it and locking it behind her as she kicked off her shoes. She walked to her dump of a living room, seating herself on an old couch, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table in front of it. A few empty bud light cans, a PlayStation controller, some old college books, her artwork and vodka bottles are bunched together, like a cute little collection. An ashtray sits by her feet as she begins reading through the mail. Eviction notice, junk mail, the usual. She lights up a cigarette before opening up her phone, reading some text messages, one from mom, granting her request for her to wire some more cash into her bank, still thinking I'm in art college. One from my dealer, telling me about 'some new shit from Colombia'. Another from...... Kyle? Telling me I should probably get a checkup, awesome.
Allison turned on the tv as she sat back, taking some much deserved drags as she looked around the living room. Her old wallpaper could do with changing, the torn effect ain't really doing it for her anyways? She should clean the carpet too, beer stains aren't the prettiest of designs this season. The windows are filthy but eh, saves her having to close the curtains she guessed? Her unwashed clothes are piled atop an armchair that was once her grandpa's, passed down to her.
With a cigarette between her lips, she watched her phone screen like a hawk, it's Friday night and there's gotta be something on tonight? Even some college parties? She knows she dropped out months ago, but that doesn't mean she can't hang out with her friends. Besides, she dropped out because of them, deciding that she couldn't handle the pressure on top of her newfound addiction to certain substances. “I swear I'll go back when I'm clean?” Allison thinks.
So this is Allison, a 19 year old girl living alone in Queens, recently dropping out of art college, still living off of mom and dad's money with the lie that she's using it for college stuff. But in reality, she's a mess, fighting a craving for coke as well as anything else that can get a job done. She's currently working at Hot Topic, it's not exactly what she was planning to do when she moved to New York from Seattle, but it pays okay and she guesses it can open other doors in the future? She's a pretty outgoing girl, usually being described as: friendly, talkative, mellow, funny, easy....actually ignore the last one.
A scrunched up McDonalds bag in Allison's hand....again, thank the lord for her fast metabolism or she'd be in a wheelchair at this point. Slouched over slightly as she watched the footpath, her worn out pair of red Converses hitting the floor with each step. Her earphones beneath her hood blaring out Kendrick Lamar’s latest single as she walked home in her own little world, sharing glances at the fellow people walking by. A few cute guys that she'll never see again....shame.
She turned to make her way into her apartment building, collecting the mail before stepping into the elevator, a few small smiles and soft waves to the other poor bastards living in such a cesspool of a building. After punching in the button to her floor, she leaned against the rail, exhaling as she tried to calm herself down following a few stressful weeks. She walked along the stained carpet to her apartment door, looking at the walls, covered in God-knows-what liquid. The stench hits her nose like a train, she remained unfazed, conditioned to such surroundings by now.
Allison unlocked the door, closing it and locking it behind her as she kicked off her shoes. She walked to her dump of a living room, seating herself on an old couch, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table in front of it. A few empty bud light cans, a PlayStation controller, some old college books, her artwork and vodka bottles are bunched together, like a cute little collection. An ashtray sits by her feet as she begins reading through the mail. Eviction notice, junk mail, the usual. She lights up a cigarette before opening up her phone, reading some text messages, one from mom, granting her request for her to wire some more cash into her bank, still thinking I'm in art college. One from my dealer, telling me about 'some new shit from Colombia'. Another from...... Kyle? Telling me I should probably get a checkup, awesome.
Allison turned on the tv as she sat back, taking some much deserved drags as she looked around the living room. Her old wallpaper could do with changing, the torn effect ain't really doing it for her anyways? She should clean the carpet too, beer stains aren't the prettiest of designs this season. The windows are filthy but eh, saves her having to close the curtains she guessed? Her unwashed clothes are piled atop an armchair that was once her grandpa's, passed down to her.
With a cigarette between her lips, she watched her phone screen like a hawk, it's Friday night and there's gotta be something on tonight? Even some college parties? She knows she dropped out months ago, but that doesn't mean she can't hang out with her friends. Besides, she dropped out because of them, deciding that she couldn't handle the pressure on top of her newfound addiction to certain substances. “I swear I'll go back when I'm clean?” Allison thinks.
So this is Allison, a 19 year old girl living alone in Queens, recently dropping out of art college, still living off of mom and dad's money with the lie that she's using it for college stuff. But in reality, she's a mess, fighting a craving for coke as well as anything else that can get a job done. She's currently working at Hot Topic, it's not exactly what she was planning to do when she moved to New York from Seattle, but it pays okay and she guesses it can open other doors in the future? She's a pretty outgoing girl, usually being described as: friendly, talkative, mellow, funny, easy....actually ignore the last one.
“Get back in here at once, Beverly!”
Her hair, messy and auburn, flew like a flaming fire following behind her back as she ran out the frontt door.
Beverly Miller did not bother closing the door behind her, and she could still hear her father’s screams a whole block away, her own footsteps hammering against the sidewalk as she rushed away. She had two mismatched sneakers on: one pink, the other one blue. Bev had rushed to put them on, grabbing blindly, having been barefooted when the whole situation exploded in her home.
She was a curvaceous young teen, slim as a whole but round in all the right places, which she hated. Sure, it was supposed to be great to look good, right? To have perky breasts and a round, pert ass, huh? Yeah, well, it was not so great when her dad was one of the men ogling her, that was for damned sure. She sometimes wished she could be plain-looking and flat-chested and be done with this whole shitshow.
What had started the argument this time? Well, apparently her mom had overcooked her father’s stake. Dishes had been darted at the wall, but only because her father’s aim was crap. He had been aiming at her mom, as per usual.
Bev had been stupid enough to try and get in the way, stand up to her dad. That never worked. Her cheek was still bruised by the sharp slap this attitude got her, but she did not care. She was far too used to bruises and scrapes by now, having known all about them since she was but a toddler.
Beverly might have been beautiful, but she wasn’t like those pretty girls at school with their little dresses and their manicured nails and their ever-so-perfect hairs. No. She was wearing a hand-me-down pair of denim cut shorts, not because her dad did not earn money to buy her new stuff, but because he had the nasty tendency to visit the tracks twice a week. Sometimes he won, sometimes, well… sometimes he didn’t, and that was not good for anyone. Her blouse, a light shade of blue and with a somewhat pleasant cleavage, was new but already stained with whatever sauce the steak was covered in.
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Small towns. They can be quaint and charming and welcoming. People don't lock their doors, children run in the streets freely, neighbors protect each other. Charming and perfect, right?
Well, yes, to anyone who fits the 'perfect and charming' cookie cutter stereotype they are supposed to act and look like.
What I'm interested in is exploring the lives, romance, heartache and conflicts of these outcasts, characters who don't fit the mold, who might try to fit in or embrace their outcast position. These characters would be "damaged goods" of some sorts, losers or rebels.
Her hair, messy and auburn, flew like a flaming fire following behind her back as she ran out the frontt door.
Beverly Miller did not bother closing the door behind her, and she could still hear her father’s screams a whole block away, her own footsteps hammering against the sidewalk as she rushed away. She had two mismatched sneakers on: one pink, the other one blue. Bev had rushed to put them on, grabbing blindly, having been barefooted when the whole situation exploded in her home.
She was a curvaceous young teen, slim as a whole but round in all the right places, which she hated. Sure, it was supposed to be great to look good, right? To have perky breasts and a round, pert ass, huh? Yeah, well, it was not so great when her dad was one of the men ogling her, that was for damned sure. She sometimes wished she could be plain-looking and flat-chested and be done with this whole shitshow.
What had started the argument this time? Well, apparently her mom had overcooked her father’s stake. Dishes had been darted at the wall, but only because her father’s aim was crap. He had been aiming at her mom, as per usual.
Bev had been stupid enough to try and get in the way, stand up to her dad. That never worked. Her cheek was still bruised by the sharp slap this attitude got her, but she did not care. She was far too used to bruises and scrapes by now, having known all about them since she was but a toddler.
Beverly might have been beautiful, but she wasn’t like those pretty girls at school with their little dresses and their manicured nails and their ever-so-perfect hairs. No. She was wearing a hand-me-down pair of denim cut shorts, not because her dad did not earn money to buy her new stuff, but because he had the nasty tendency to visit the tracks twice a week. Sometimes he won, sometimes, well… sometimes he didn’t, and that was not good for anyone. Her blouse, a light shade of blue and with a somewhat pleasant cleavage, was new but already stained with whatever sauce the steak was covered in.
-------------------
Small towns. They can be quaint and charming and welcoming. People don't lock their doors, children run in the streets freely, neighbors protect each other. Charming and perfect, right?
Well, yes, to anyone who fits the 'perfect and charming' cookie cutter stereotype they are supposed to act and look like.
What I'm interested in is exploring the lives, romance, heartache and conflicts of these outcasts, characters who don't fit the mold, who might try to fit in or embrace their outcast position. These characters would be "damaged goods" of some sorts, losers or rebels.
Lucky for Lucy she had a special charm about her that lead to a wide opportunity of job openings. She wasn’t oblivious to the envy some girls might hold on her either. After all she was a curvy, petite, young woman blessed with beautiful, brown, wavy locks of love. Her emerald eyes could pierce the hearts of many men and woman if she chose to do so but that wasn’t the problem. No, looks weren’t an issue for her. It was her mood swings so to speak. Her tardiness and seeming lack of motivation in the workplace that she struggled with. She was smart but she made dumb decisions and last night was a dumb decision. It was a decision that may have gotten her laid off today.
Liam, Lucy’s roommate, also happened to be her rock. Her boyfriend of two years; The guy she ran to every time something went wrong. His emotional support was so valuable. She didn’t know how she would survive without him sometimes. Sure, they both were broke as fuck but at least he could hold a job. She didn’t understand why her boss assumed being hungover meant she wasn’t able to function in the work environment. Then again, she did tend to fall asleep at the desk and her only job was to answer phone calls/redirect calls. It was hard to balance life as a young adult. On occasion Lucy wanted to enjoy the night life with her girlfriends but she also needed to hold a job so she could afford life with Liam. Moving in with her mom or dad wasn’t really an option in her head either.
Lucy’s high-heeled boots felt heavier than usual today as she set home for her apartment. It was as if the rain pouring down on her held a higher gravitational force on her body. Then again four blocks of concrete in heels wasn't ideal and her ride was still working at the job she just let go of. Hmmm…come to think of it…maybe…it was her outfit today that got her in trouble? She was wearing a pencil skirt which seemed appropriate to her standards, but maybe she should have buttoned that extra top button so her cleavage wasn’t as apparent. Lucy had gotten fired once before over not following the dress code, but the things they told her to wear didn’t make any sense to her. Regardless, her current situation still pissed her off and she knew Liam wasn’t going to be to thrilled to hear her news either.
Ughhhh are you kidding me? Stress was rising inside Lucy like a fire ignited with gasoline. Of all the days for Angela to bug her…
“Lucy, where’s your rent? It’s now two months overdue!”
“What about Marshal’s Rent? Why are you picking on me?!”
“He paid yesterday…” Angela said, and of course this only made Lucy even more upset. Even Marshal, the sketchy old man who dealt drugs had it more together than her.
“Fine!” Lucy screamed louder than necessary pulling out the cash she just withdrew from her final work check. She knew she was still down $250 or so but…that was all she had right now. “Liam will get you the rest by the end of the week.” She mumbled, still not in the mood to deal with people. She was feeling attacked and the last thing she wanted was Angela breathing down her throat about rent.
“Okay well, make sure it happens. I need it Lucy.”
“Yeah yeah, I will. I will.” she said continuing her way up the creaking wooden staircase, not really paying any mind to what Angela was really saying to her. It was all just words with no meaning at this point because it went in one ear, and just as easily out the other.
“Hey,” Lucy said to Marshal, “your shave looks nice” she remarked. She had to stay nice to Marshal, not that he was necessarily hard to get along with. No, that usually wasn’t a problem for Lucy but because on occasion he would set her up with some recreational fun. Liam wasn’t a fan of it but sometimes….Lucy just needed it and she couldn’t control it.
“Bad day huh?” he said, obviously noting the scene she made downstairs. All the walls were thin. Door closed or not, most people in the eight room, two story, apartment complex would have heard her yell at Angela. “Let me know if ya need som’thn later” his thick accent was obvious but she still didn’t know where he came from. Judging by the assortment of tattoos over his shirtless body she figured it was from a gang he may have formerly been in. On that note, Lucy liked to keep their relationship minimal and for….business only. But overall, he was a good neighbor to have next door. She trusted him. Enough.
“Hah, yeah. It’s been a day.” she said finding her key to open the door. But before Lucy turned the handle she looked back at Marshal and whispered “M…maybe later.”
Entering the apartment complex Lucy immediately threw her purse into the corner of the living room and slammed the door behind her. “Liam…” she said feeling her eyes begin to water as she looked into the handsome features of his face. “They…laid me off! I…I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear! They just decided to hate me!” she said moving herself over to him, hugging him close. Needing him. “And then…Angela…she-“ Lucy was practically hyperventilating at this point with her chest pressed onto his abdomen still not letting him go. But mentioning Angela’s name quickly turned what was going to be tears back into anger “-Angela yelled at me and I gave her all the cash I had. I can’t win. They laid me off…and I ..I felt like I was doing better…” she said slowly falling to her knees in front of him.
Lucy was a mess and Liam knew it. But what he didn’t know was how she planned on fixing her issues for the night…
”When was the last time …?” Lucy paused, biting on her lower lip as she looked up at him from her knees. A smile traced her lips as her fingertips lingered their way up from his boot to his thigh, and then danced around his crotch. “ …I got laid?” she asked twisting the negative words thrown into her face this morning by her boss into a more dirty connotation.
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Hey guys! I'm really open to where this rp could go! Thought it'd create this and leave it a bit open as I'm curious with what some people could offer in terms of avenues to take it.
Obviously it's a couple that is down on their luck and barely managing to scrap by while Lucy has some... Issues.
Liam, Lucy’s roommate, also happened to be her rock. Her boyfriend of two years; The guy she ran to every time something went wrong. His emotional support was so valuable. She didn’t know how she would survive without him sometimes. Sure, they both were broke as fuck but at least he could hold a job. She didn’t understand why her boss assumed being hungover meant she wasn’t able to function in the work environment. Then again, she did tend to fall asleep at the desk and her only job was to answer phone calls/redirect calls. It was hard to balance life as a young adult. On occasion Lucy wanted to enjoy the night life with her girlfriends but she also needed to hold a job so she could afford life with Liam. Moving in with her mom or dad wasn’t really an option in her head either.
Lucy’s high-heeled boots felt heavier than usual today as she set home for her apartment. It was as if the rain pouring down on her held a higher gravitational force on her body. Then again four blocks of concrete in heels wasn't ideal and her ride was still working at the job she just let go of. Hmmm…come to think of it…maybe…it was her outfit today that got her in trouble? She was wearing a pencil skirt which seemed appropriate to her standards, but maybe she should have buttoned that extra top button so her cleavage wasn’t as apparent. Lucy had gotten fired once before over not following the dress code, but the things they told her to wear didn’t make any sense to her. Regardless, her current situation still pissed her off and she knew Liam wasn’t going to be to thrilled to hear her news either.
Ughhhh are you kidding me? Stress was rising inside Lucy like a fire ignited with gasoline. Of all the days for Angela to bug her…
“Lucy, where’s your rent? It’s now two months overdue!”
“What about Marshal’s Rent? Why are you picking on me?!”
“He paid yesterday…” Angela said, and of course this only made Lucy even more upset. Even Marshal, the sketchy old man who dealt drugs had it more together than her.
“Fine!” Lucy screamed louder than necessary pulling out the cash she just withdrew from her final work check. She knew she was still down $250 or so but…that was all she had right now. “Liam will get you the rest by the end of the week.” She mumbled, still not in the mood to deal with people. She was feeling attacked and the last thing she wanted was Angela breathing down her throat about rent.
“Okay well, make sure it happens. I need it Lucy.”
“Yeah yeah, I will. I will.” she said continuing her way up the creaking wooden staircase, not really paying any mind to what Angela was really saying to her. It was all just words with no meaning at this point because it went in one ear, and just as easily out the other.
“Hey,” Lucy said to Marshal, “your shave looks nice” she remarked. She had to stay nice to Marshal, not that he was necessarily hard to get along with. No, that usually wasn’t a problem for Lucy but because on occasion he would set her up with some recreational fun. Liam wasn’t a fan of it but sometimes….Lucy just needed it and she couldn’t control it.
“Bad day huh?” he said, obviously noting the scene she made downstairs. All the walls were thin. Door closed or not, most people in the eight room, two story, apartment complex would have heard her yell at Angela. “Let me know if ya need som’thn later” his thick accent was obvious but she still didn’t know where he came from. Judging by the assortment of tattoos over his shirtless body she figured it was from a gang he may have formerly been in. On that note, Lucy liked to keep their relationship minimal and for….business only. But overall, he was a good neighbor to have next door. She trusted him. Enough.
“Hah, yeah. It’s been a day.” she said finding her key to open the door. But before Lucy turned the handle she looked back at Marshal and whispered “M…maybe later.”
Entering the apartment complex Lucy immediately threw her purse into the corner of the living room and slammed the door behind her. “Liam…” she said feeling her eyes begin to water as she looked into the handsome features of his face. “They…laid me off! I…I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear! They just decided to hate me!” she said moving herself over to him, hugging him close. Needing him. “And then…Angela…she-“ Lucy was practically hyperventilating at this point with her chest pressed onto his abdomen still not letting him go. But mentioning Angela’s name quickly turned what was going to be tears back into anger “-Angela yelled at me and I gave her all the cash I had. I can’t win. They laid me off…and I ..I felt like I was doing better…” she said slowly falling to her knees in front of him.
Lucy was a mess and Liam knew it. But what he didn’t know was how she planned on fixing her issues for the night…
”When was the last time …?” Lucy paused, biting on her lower lip as she looked up at him from her knees. A smile traced her lips as her fingertips lingered their way up from his boot to his thigh, and then danced around his crotch. “ …I got laid?” she asked twisting the negative words thrown into her face this morning by her boss into a more dirty connotation.
----
Hey guys! I'm really open to where this rp could go! Thought it'd create this and leave it a bit open as I'm curious with what some people could offer in terms of avenues to take it.
Obviously it's a couple that is down on their luck and barely managing to scrap by while Lucy has some... Issues.
Of course, you assured her that I was “just like a sister” to you. You couldn’t count the number of times you said it. You explained how things between us were innocent. You told her my tragic backstory, and how I needed good friends. I think she was sympathetic for a bit, before the paranoia kicked back in. Still, fight after fight, you assured her, swore up age down, promised on everything and anything that it wasn’t “like that,” it just wasn’t.
Of course you’re also a liar.
You’d text her good morning after waking up in my bed, naked body still pressed to mine. You’d tell her it was innocent with my spit dried on your cock. We’d go to dinner with her and our friends with your cum still leaking out of my pussy. You’d call her and tell her good night while I gagged myself on your dick. The first time you told her you loved her, you fucked my ass not 5 minutes later.
She knew I was fucked up, seeing all the guys I brought in and out of the friend group..,she didn’t know you were fucked up too.
You and I had tried the relationship thing. Well, you asked me to, but it just wasn’t in my nature. So you settled for having me as your own personal fuckdoll instead. And I obliged, completely unconcerned with your girlfriend.
The last big fight you had was the night of Baileys party. I got hammered, and even though you promised your girlfriend you would spend the night together, you told her you had to take care of me instead. She cried, you fought, she tried to stop you as you carried me to the car, but it was no use. After all, you were doing the right thing, right? She apologized later for making a scene and being jealous. That was the night you told me you loved me, while fucking my petite body into the mattress.
.
Of course you’re also a liar.
You’d text her good morning after waking up in my bed, naked body still pressed to mine. You’d tell her it was innocent with my spit dried on your cock. We’d go to dinner with her and our friends with your cum still leaking out of my pussy. You’d call her and tell her good night while I gagged myself on your dick. The first time you told her you loved her, you fucked my ass not 5 minutes later.
She knew I was fucked up, seeing all the guys I brought in and out of the friend group..,she didn’t know you were fucked up too.
You and I had tried the relationship thing. Well, you asked me to, but it just wasn’t in my nature. So you settled for having me as your own personal fuckdoll instead. And I obliged, completely unconcerned with your girlfriend.
The last big fight you had was the night of Baileys party. I got hammered, and even though you promised your girlfriend you would spend the night together, you told her you had to take care of me instead. She cried, you fought, she tried to stop you as you carried me to the car, but it was no use. After all, you were doing the right thing, right? She apologized later for making a scene and being jealous. That was the night you told me you loved me, while fucking my petite body into the mattress.
.
You were a good guy. Good family, raised in a good neighborhood, financially secure. You were never denied an opportunity. 18 with a full ride to your top school. You had good grades, you were reasonably popular, fairly athletic. An all-American guy, a suburban wet dream. Of course, you partied with friends...but your parents didn’t need to know. You had a reputation to keep.
You didn’t know me, not really. You had seen me in passing. I was in an off and on thing with your dealer, so on the occasion I was there, you’d watch me in my barely-there clothes.
I wasn’t like you. I didn’t have a family, bouncing from foster home to foster home. Always on the wrong side of the tracks, I looked for love and validation in toxic men. It’s not sneaking out if no one cares if you’re gone.
It was Friday. Your buddy Jake was throwing a rager at his parents lake house. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but it was sick. Of course Zack, the dealer, was invited. So I tagged along. I could tell right away that I was out of my depth. These were kids with money, with futures. The girls just looked expensive. I took a joint off Zack and camped out outside by the fire pit.
Was it a fight with your girlfriend that made you come outside? Was it a dare?
I don’t know, but you ended up with me. We made small talk, we didn’t have much in common. But I was high, you were tipsy and we were two 18 year olds with nothing better to do.
So I fucked you in the boat house.
This wasn’t like the reluctant, boring sex your girlfriend gave you. This was exactly the kind of sex you’d expect from a girl like me. Maybe that’s why you can’t get me off your mind? A war rumbling inside you. I was sweet, but rough around the edges. You had a future, but that sex was bomb. Maybe even worth risking your reputation?
You didn’t know me, not really. You had seen me in passing. I was in an off and on thing with your dealer, so on the occasion I was there, you’d watch me in my barely-there clothes.
I wasn’t like you. I didn’t have a family, bouncing from foster home to foster home. Always on the wrong side of the tracks, I looked for love and validation in toxic men. It’s not sneaking out if no one cares if you’re gone.
It was Friday. Your buddy Jake was throwing a rager at his parents lake house. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but it was sick. Of course Zack, the dealer, was invited. So I tagged along. I could tell right away that I was out of my depth. These were kids with money, with futures. The girls just looked expensive. I took a joint off Zack and camped out outside by the fire pit.
Was it a fight with your girlfriend that made you come outside? Was it a dare?
I don’t know, but you ended up with me. We made small talk, we didn’t have much in common. But I was high, you were tipsy and we were two 18 year olds with nothing better to do.
So I fucked you in the boat house.
This wasn’t like the reluctant, boring sex your girlfriend gave you. This was exactly the kind of sex you’d expect from a girl like me. Maybe that’s why you can’t get me off your mind? A war rumbling inside you. I was sweet, but rough around the edges. You had a future, but that sex was bomb. Maybe even worth risking your reputation?
It started out innocently enough...on your part at least. I was a troubled girl, but I was incredibly bright. You couldn’t stand to see that light put out by my shitty home situation. It was my senior year, after all and I was 18. You cozied up to me, helping me apply to schools and stay out of trouble.
I just saw an older male giving me attention.
You had to admit, I was nice to look at. Even your wife wasn’t as hot as me when she was 18. And I didn’t hide my interest in you. Sure, you corrected my behavior a few times, but you came to love my lingering touch.
The first time it happened was after school. You and your wife had a fight about picking up the kids, but you stayed to help me anyway. It was just us in your classroom. You decided to call my bluff. You touched me back. The situation quickly turned from you helping me fill out applications to me riding the cum out of you in your chair.
On your way home, you told yourself it was a one time thing. But it wasn’t. Our after school counseling became after school fuck sessions, and even once or twice you met me at my house. There was just something about how hungry I was for your cock, the way I sucked it like my life depended on it, the way my tight pussy felt like it was made for you.
Things had gotten bad. You found yourself getting jealous when you saw me with boys in school, or when you heard rumors about how I spent my weekend. Your wife started to get suspicious. But we didn’t stop. You never even bothered to ask if I was on birth control.
.
I just saw an older male giving me attention.
You had to admit, I was nice to look at. Even your wife wasn’t as hot as me when she was 18. And I didn’t hide my interest in you. Sure, you corrected my behavior a few times, but you came to love my lingering touch.
The first time it happened was after school. You and your wife had a fight about picking up the kids, but you stayed to help me anyway. It was just us in your classroom. You decided to call my bluff. You touched me back. The situation quickly turned from you helping me fill out applications to me riding the cum out of you in your chair.
On your way home, you told yourself it was a one time thing. But it wasn’t. Our after school counseling became after school fuck sessions, and even once or twice you met me at my house. There was just something about how hungry I was for your cock, the way I sucked it like my life depended on it, the way my tight pussy felt like it was made for you.
Things had gotten bad. You found yourself getting jealous when you saw me with boys in school, or when you heard rumors about how I spent my weekend. Your wife started to get suspicious. But we didn’t stop. You never even bothered to ask if I was on birth control.
.
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I'm a big lover of dark themes in stories. Stuff such as cheating, abuse, mental health, substance abuse, rape, sexism, racism, corruption, degradation, objectification. Probabaly more but I'm a huge fan of all of those elements. So would love a lot of these themes in my stories and welcome other ideas that have these elements.
Haven't written up a specific prompt or character for it but a good digger/sugar daddy type story as well could be quite fun. A secretary/boss idea would also be quite fun to explore. A spoilt rich daddy's girl would also be a fun character to play as.
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When you message let me know what gender you intend to play as, I do have this some of these ideas posted in a different thread. I am open to playing either male or female roles.
A few things about me. I'm a detailed and long term orientated writer that has been doing this kind of stuff for a number of years. I do like quite a mix of plot to go alongside the smut.
I'm happy to discuss things in OOC chat, brainstorm and plans things before we dive into it and get to know my partner a bit if we are in it for the long haul but all good if you aren't into that.
I'm happy to write through a thread, pms, discord or Google docs.
I tend to do a few paragraphs and would prefer the same back. My posting frequency varies from daily, to every few days to perhaps once a week.
If you have other slice of life ideas that you think will suit me or are similar let me know.
My big kink list.
F-list - Warning
Hope to hear from people soon
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