๐ก๐๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ญ๐ข๐! I'm lait, your milkiest friend on the internet. I've been writing for as long as I can remember and I've been on this little blue site for quite some time. To and keep this as short as possible- (because I'm a mega fan of over-explaining myself) I figured I'd mention a few things about myself. I'm ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ง๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ writer and like to think I'm a pretty experienced writer. I can either give you a novella or a couple of paragraphs. I love a detailed story. I love storytelling and man do I love a good plot.
My range can be anywhere from 600 to 2500+ words. I'm overall pretty easy going and I promise I'm easy to chat with. I love making friends. I do work full-time as well as travel for work so if I miss a reply or don't get back to you right away, I'm sorry in advance. This is also a ๐ ๐ก๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ-๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ง๐๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐. But I would adore you even more if you told me you've lost interested.
I am a little bit picky when it comes to partners sometimes, so please don't take any offense to it. โค
โฅ ๐ ๐ฑ ๐ฉ ๐ ๐ ๐ญ ๐ ๐ญ ๐ข ๐จ ๐ง ๐ฌ .โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ โฆI work from home but I also travel for work on occasion. I will let you know when I won't be around. โฆI prefer to write in threads but if you're 100% against it, I will do PMs. I will not write on anything outside of BMR. โฆYou can expect me to write around 600-2500+ words and post around 1-2 times a week maybe more. โฆOOC communication is so important. If you can't do PMs and would rather move to discord, let me know and I'll drop my username. โฆI'm a 100% certified yapper. I love to talk and won't shut up sometimes. I'm sorry. ;__; I promise I'll make you laugh. A lot โฆPlease come to me with an idea if you PM me. Don't message me and say "Do you want to RP?" I will 200% cry.
โฅ ๐ฐ๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฆ ๐ฉ ๐ฅ ๐ . โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ Don't feel obligated to, but if you send samples of your own, I would appreciate it! I love to see what potential writing partners writing styles are. But again it's not a mandatory thing.
It was never meant to turn into her meeting him again. Time again she was forced to let him go completely no matter how much her heart and body remembered. The image of him, thoughts shared, feelings connected, words said, and memories relived. Fuck. It was a method of protecting him and protecting herself from him time and time again. And yet, all that effort was wasted. A meeting between families was called for. Beaumont and Rousseau. And just as she'd feared, a deal was struck between the two. A deal of peace, a ceasefire, and a partnership. Matrimony.
She watched him walk in, an expression she'd never experienced seeing him with. Cรฉline already arrived with her father, Dieudonne Rousseau. He didn't entirely lie to her, just left out important details as to why she was made to attend an assembly she would have otherwise never been at. Not a day had gone by had she wondered how he was. If he was happy, if he moved on, married, started a family, and finally lived his life. After the situation with Serge and him threatening both her life and Damien's, she wanted nothing more than for him to live and be happy without having to ever think of her. There was no will to drink despite the half-filled flute of champagne placed before her. The lump in her throat, complied with the crippling anxiety in her stomach wouldn't allow for it. Not that she'd even be able to hold it down if she tried.
"Cรฉline, mon cherie," her father hummed as he leaned into her, ripping her from her thoughts.
There was something seeking in his eyes. Approval? Reassurance? That the choice he made for his sweet daughter was the right one? "This is for us. You know I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to put danger, my Soliel." Cรฉline in turn searched for an answer in his. Where had this sudden decision come from? Why had her father, one of the most powerful men in France decided he wanted to give his daughter to his rival in an effort for peace? Fear perhaps? That Beaumont's were rising to become just as powerful as them in a short amount of time and he hadn't taken a chance to stop it before it got to be too great? Not wanting to risk it with more bloodshed? "I want nothing more than to make you happy. This will be good for us. For you and your brother, for the future. Two powerful families coming together."
Regret? This was the one thing he had promised she was allowed to have. Allowed to choose her spouse, and control over her love life. She wanted to fall in love her way, not forced or arranged. Once upon a time, this would have been a secretly joyous day for them. This was what they wanted those years ago. The nights under the stars with Damien, hand in hand, telling him how she couldn't wait to be not just the woman of his dreams but his bride, his wife. And yet, here she was getting... well not exactly what she wanted. Was it because of what happened with Serge? The engagement and how much of a spectacle it was? Spectacle wasn't even the right word. It was a mess. An unfortunate, frustrating, wreckage of her life because of his selfish desires.
The mixture of emotions on her father's face was too hard to read as he raised his glass. Being her father's pride and joy, his second-born and only daughter, he cared for her more than anything in the world. Cรฉline was his little girl, his petite soleil, and would always be his little sun despite being her grown age.
She was no sun today.
There was no happiness.
An ever-dark cloud loomed over his daughter. "We can trust Beaumont now. Damien is a good man. Reliable, and gets the job done. Your mother would have been-"
The mediator then interrupted.
"We will curtail any future violence with something more binding than gold or assurances. We will do so with holy ceremonyโ and matrimony."
To see the very man she tried just a decade ago to protect from Serge now back in her life and now the one she's to marry? โYou should go and meet him tonight. Get to know each other. Let him take you out.โ Her head snapped to her father, cinnamon eyes ignited in a furious passion. The last thing she wanted was for Damien Beaumont, the man who hated her to do anything of the sort.
โPapa no. I donโt need to meet him. We can meet the day he needs me to sign the papers. Otherwise, no.โ She hissed through her teeth. โIt's already been arranged. You'll be going to him. Itโs time to do your part in this mon Cherie. Your mother would have at least wanted you two to meet. Do this for me and your mother, please.โ It was harder when her mother was mentioned. Cรฉline looked away from her father, looking everywhere but him, and Damien. โCarmen will drive you. Behave.โ โI can drive myself.โ
โYouโll be stepping into his territory. Carmen will be taking you, two men behind you. End of discussion.โ
She slid and twisted the ring he'd given her years ago up and down her middle finger anxiously. After all this time she was surprised it even still fit, then again she never really took it off. A constant reminder of the love she held, and the sins she currently carriedโ her deepest shame. Cรฉline was always asked who'd given her such a beautiful piece of jewelry. Chagrin always painted on her face as she made some half-assed story about how her father got it for her 18th birthday or how it was passed down to her from her long-deceased mother. A girl's first love was supposed to be her father, but Cรฉline was different. For her, it always was Damien, it would only ever be Damien. Into her late 20s, she realized it was easier to follow the orders of her father than rebel and put up any sort of objection. While the belief in the family coming first was at the forefront for the Rousseaus, a family could at any moment betray. She'd already done it once without her father's knowledge. Now having to bear the ache of sitting in the same room, both of them holding secrets from their fathers. Above everything she was being driven straight to his villa because their fathers wanted them to meet. Another sigh breezed past her lips, the now fifth one as Carmen informed her.
After all the drama, heartbreak, and pain, Cรฉline shut that side of her life out. Closed her heart off completely. No other person needed to see love from her or would deserve it as he once had. She was well desired and generously pursued by men of all statuses, whether it was to further their wealth and power or in all seriousness to court her. Nothing could appease her like what she had so long ago. What she did to Damien she knew he'd never forgive her for. With no word either. Knowing that Serge threatened to tell her father of their relationship, and harm Damien in the process because, well he simply felt like it? She'd never let a man have the advantage over her like that ever again. Celine couldn't risk it even if she knew Damien was capable of holding his own. But it always lingered in the back of her head. What if he let her explain? What if he listened like he used to? Like how he used to watch her and give her his full undivided attention when she had something to say. As if. Another sigh.
The villa came into sight around a bend of trees and her heart was in her throat. It'd been over ten years since she'd last seen him aside from in the room where they were officially โengagedโ so to say. Cรฉline sat in the backseat of her black 7-Series that crept close to that seaside villa. Her father insisted they meet, and get to know each other. Alas, he knew his daughter all too well. Dieudonnรฉ Rousseau knew that when Cรฉline urged that she could 'drive herself' anywhere meant she wasn't going to show up at all and it would have her father looking foolish. Fool him once, shame on him, but she wouldnโt dare fool him again. Carmen, their long-time driver had taken her nearly an hour out from her home to once more meet the man who was once of her dreams. The car stopped, suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I'll be here the entire time. Two more are behind me a mile down the road. You let me know when you want to leave and weโre out of here." โIn that case can we leave now then?โโOne hour, Cรฉline. Thatโs the best I can do for you.โ
Carmen smiled gently at her before another gentleman in a black suit approached the car, pulling open her door and extending a hand to her as she stepped out. Long ago she used to dress for him, used to love the way his eyes would light up when he saw her in a new dress or outfit she spent too much money on. Her stomach hurt the moment her stiletto heels hit the pavement, her black, draped dress following behind. For the first time in a long time, someone actually made Cรฉline Rousseau, daughter of one of the most powerful families in France, anxious and sick to her stomach.
After everything, Damien still had good taste in his home at least. His villa was beautiful and a sight to see for certain. A bodyguard stopped her a moment, running a detector of the length of her body before allowing her inside. A little extra considering Cรฉline at the moment was harmless as ever. Harmless, nervous, wanting to run back into her car and tell Carmen to drive off as fast as he could. Taking one last calming breath before her poker face settled, she was escorted to his living room. Not a word was said to her but it was clear with his guard said with his silence.
Stay here and don't touch anything or I'll have your hands.
Noted.
Not that she would have moved unless it was to leave, anyway. She didn't want to watch him walk into the room. It'd be too weird for her. Instead, she moved to one of the grand windows of his home, letting the afternoon dusk keep her attention as the countdown til they spoke again blared in the back of her head.
It was mesmeric how his voice vibrated in her ears.
The way he'd pushed her back into the rail and forced himself onto her, forced her into her place. Contact she'd been aching for, for far too long caused her entire body to ignite immediately. She knew she was sex. She knew she dripped sex every waking moment of her life. Not many got to experience it. He was so graciously invited into her world now. Every part of her being was hot. Hot for him. It wasn't fair that he did this to her and so easily. He was tired? So was she. Tired of aching? As was she! Tired of throbbing? Now she'd be able to help with that. The tips of his fingers grazed her skin, and finally part of what she'd been waiting for was his hand meeting her ass. But it wasn't enough.
That was her weakness but kept her poker face strong. In reality, she wanted him to ravage her, grabbing, slapping, and kissing on her ass. More of his touch, pushing, shoving, pulling her. Her hand moved to his chest the further into her he pushed into her. His skin was just as much on fire as hers. If there was anything she didn't lose was his eye contact. As soon as his lips moved from her ears it was her move. A beautiful game between the two. Eyes dark, laced with desire. She smiled at his question, a sly one that arranged itself against her dark red lips.
"What do I see?" Despite his power and his hold against her on the balcony, she knew she was still free to move. Her delicate hand against his chest pushed him back. "I see a man hiding." Into the room they were again, she'd managed to kick both of her heels off, becoming much shorter than he. "Waiting. Throbbing, and aching for his woman. For her touch," Within seconds they'd reached the foot of the massive bed. Directing him onto it, Oliver knew to sit. With very little stopping her, she'd pulled his shirt away from his shoulders, letting it loosely fall to his wrists and giving her a full display of his build. The muscle, the tone, the perfect shape... All the fun she was going to have with him.
Crazy how nothing was stopping them now.
Crazy how now they were where they needed to be to release this frustration, this desire, this lust for each other. Another push with her hand, gently guiding him down against the soft white sheets of her bed. She beginning to do just what she was sure they both dreamed of.
"A man wanting to remain lost in the ocean of his woman." Her hands started at his thighs and moved up achingly slow, nails dragging, teasing with a tickle to his tender skin. They stopped right where they were supposed to suddenly. Just as he had with her, both hands of hers just one slip inward of his own heat. "A greedy man that wants to indulge freely." But for now, they continued upward as did she. Trailing along each crease, each cut, each ab each muscle, up over his chest and into their rightful place at his shoulders, pulling him in towards her. "Eyes that want to so badly devour his woman. Taking all of her." Her hands moved into his hair, with nails gently massaging his scalp as she took a good gentle handful of his hair. Scarlett forced his head back gently, allowing his eyes to find hers again as she stood in her familiar spot between him. Her face lowered to meet his, lips just excruciating inches from his. She spoke, this time hot against his lips.
"I see a thirst," It was a whisper of a conversation between them now. Her voice, a trance, intimate, and sensual song. Alas, the many songs she'd soon be singing for him. "Waiting so patiently," lips bearly touching with the emphasis on her p. "To quench a thirst only his woman satiate for him." Nodding her head forward for Oliver to move further up the bed, Scarlett moved with him, releasing her light grip on his hair, but never breaking contact. Not once. She'd sat upon him, the seat she'd waited much too long to take. Both of her thighs on either side of his torso, created an even grander silhouette of her figure. The skirt was a problem but not wanting to give too much away so soon, she'd managed to force it up enough for her legs to be comfortable in her straddle.
"I see," she started again, her hips moving, connecting their sexes. An exhale mistakenly slipped. A momentary waiver as she was able to feel the power that'd pressed up against her pussy. Even through his pants and through her thong in the verse, she was sure to feel his heat and hers for him in return. Eager hands moved up his chest again, allowing her upper body to fall light to the chest. Her hands continued on, arms stretched up against the bed at either side of his head as she grabbed at the sheets by his head. It was like watching a cat stretch before getting into some trouble.
And just as he'd done, she'd too pressed her lips to his ear as her spell continued to spill from her sex-laced lips. "A man holding secrets of a desire he keeps for his woman." Another impatient exhale filled his ears as her hips moved barely. "I see a man dying to fuck his woman. This is what I see when I look into your eyes."
Along came a bite, a gentle suck, and then her tongue, tasting him finally right as another groan slipped.
"Mmm... Are you ready for a woman, Oliver? This won't be like the little flings you're used to. It'll be much deeper than that."
๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐'๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐จ๐ญ๐ข๐๐ฒ ๐ง๐จ๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ฒ๐ข๐ง๐ โโตpromise me - marg
It was easy to stare. It was easy to salivate over a woman who was fabricated by skilled hands. And it would have been even easier for him to have just lose all control and affirm their mutual pleasures. By no means would Vera resist his his advances. But Ezad was a gentleman, and this fact she loved the most of all about him. A gentleman who she knew underneath could very well be a scoundrel, a deviant! Perhaps it was that thought that allowed her to continue her approach with him. Every encounter was just a layer of him she stripped away. His expressions were so honest.
His responses to her curious questions were classy, ingenuous, and candid. Out of embarrassment? Or maybe because it'd simply had been some time since he'd last danced the game of lust and pleasure with woman? And yet he was still so charming despite all. The way he fought so hard to keep his smile from filling his face. His lips...The ways she's catch him clicking his tongue- maybe a nervous habit? She paid attention and it was beautiful. He was beautiful.
From his sigh of almost disbelief as his eyes showered her feminine figure, to him finally relaxing somewhat in his seat- a fervent warmth stirred her, aroused her. Vera could feel it again, that soft beating against her woman and that desire to peel apart her legs and welcome him into her garden as he prattled about his night chastely. Her eyes rested on him, taking another strawberry to her lips. And like the siren she was, peering into the deepest parts of Ezad she grinned again. An eyebrow raising to the newest discovery. "My lips and mouth?" she questioned, lapping the strawberry's juices from the corners of her lips with her tongue. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I love that you're thinking of me. It was the same for me, a beautiful mental imagery with a very handsome, very sexy resort owner who too graced me with his presence. Except," she cutoff, pushing herself forward. With the help of the slick fabric, Vera slid forward easily off the table and onto her feet.
It was in her blood.
To be a crafty, to be clever, good with her words. Olive eyes peered down at him seated before her. Eyes half-lidded, hungry, aching, dangerous. Breasts soft and in line with his vision, daring to show themselves behind the silk fabric still. It left nothing to the imagination and yet still left so much unanswered. What color? How big? How soft? How heavy? Though instead, she side stepped, shifting behind him. First came her hands, down at his broad, firm shoulders. Then she let her hands run over his chest trapped behind his annoying shirt as she folded herself forward to let her lips meet his ear. "Mine happened a little differently. Close your eyes and imagine it with me." Vera whispered another order. One hand moved up, cupping the underside of his chin, fingers gently trailing over his lips as she too pressed herself into his back. The soft tops of her breasts giving momentary cushion to her dearest. "I thought of you, atop me. . . inside of me. . . fucking meโ" Vera exhaled, near moaning the words into his ear.
"Your hands on my hips, firm, holding me down in place. Afraid that if you let go, I'd disappear. And yet you're driving me deeper and deeper down against your cock," she breathed softly. "And I'm. . . pleading, begging, moaning your name over and over. 'Ezad,'" she moaned softly into his ear. "'Ezad please! Yes..!'" A sharp inhale as she moaned again. Her free hand against his chest slipping further down, meeting the hand at his thigh. Her fingers interlacing with his as she continued. "'Please! It feels so good! Don't stop. . !'" Vera couldn't resist any longer. The lips that left such an impression on him kissed down against the space behind his ear. "And you don't," her whispers continued. "Your hand wraps around my neck," she cooed, squeezing the hand at his thigh as her fingers slip from his lips to around his neck gently. "And you just go, and you go, and go, and go!" Each 'go' amplifying into louder moans as a trail of tender kisses find its way from behind his ear down the length of his neck.
"My eyes roll back as I can feel my orgasm beginning seize my body. Yours not far either. Your head tips back as if you're looking for some answer from above as to why it feels so good. How I'm allowed to feel this good. Gripping you through each push, soaked, a concert of our wet sounds. How with every enthusiastic pump you wonder how you hadn't found me sooner. And before long you hear," Vera parted her lips, biting gently at his neck. Firm but not enough to hurt her dear lover.
"Sharp breaths, hands digging into the sheets desperately, and then- 'Ezad! I'm cumming!' And as as soon her touched had reached him, it had left. Vera only pulled away to allow herself to regain some control over the almost orgasm standing there. It'd been a very long minute since she'd gotten herself riled up enough to a point where she didn't have to touch herself to reach it.
Before he was allowed to leave her suite, Vera G. Silvius would make sure to leave Ezad with another memory. A deeper one.
One that he would try to leave in the far depths of his memory. One that would creep up and find its way out during his everyday routine. One that his hands wouldn't dare forget. And for this one she wanted him to see, she craved his dark eyes to immerse fully in it. "Open your eyes."
Vera wanted to leave a memory of her with him so that when he lay his head that evening, his next orgasm would be better than his last. Vera stepped around again, this time taking a seat in his lap between his legs. Her soft, corpulent bottom in a place she belonged yesterday, but out of decency couldn't be. It was simply one of the thrones Ezad had to offer her. Easing back against his chest, Vera took his hands and placed it at her thighs instead. One clothed by her robe still, the other exposed for proper feeling. And with ease she directed him up her figure. From atop her thighs, smooth, soft, toned. To her hips filling out against his lap, just as soft. To the top of her woman, smooth, upkept. Then over her smooth lower belly, stopping just beneath where the round bottoms of her breasts sat.
"Touch me."
Another simple command.
Though more of a desperate cry in that moment. As her hands rested above his, her thumbs caught the edge of her robe, daring to pull it back and reveal with they'd both been waiting for. A plead for him to fulfil. "Everywhere. . . Please Ezad..," Vera managed to whisper through desperate breathlessness. "I want you to remember more than just my lips this time."
โฅ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ซ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฌ | ๐ค ๐ข ๐ง ๐ค ๐ฌ . โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ I'm going to be that person and flat out say I don't have any really immediate kinks or things I need in a story. I'm really easy going. I think as long as what we're writing is sexy and everything blends and meshes nicely, and the characters have good chemistry, I'll be a happy gal. You on the other hand, if you have anything in particular that you like in stories I'll be more than open to hearing it out.
If you need it: ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐-๐ฅ๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ก๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐๐: scat / bathroom play / incest.
Otherwise, that's it! I hope you hear from you! ___โฅ ๐๐ฎ ๐ซ๐๐ฏ๐จ๐ข๐ซ, ๐ฆ๐จ๐ง ๐๐ฆ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ
Authors were supposed to only be in love with their work and their writing. Head buried in their computers as they typed away the filthy details of a love story they only wished they could have. They were supposed to love the fantasy of the men they wrote about, and never to actually experience it. After all, it was only ever just fantasy. So, to actually fall for the Billionaire CEO of the luxury resort she was staying at was absolutely out of the question.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
MC is a well-known romance author who's visiting YC's high-end luxury resort for a book signing set up by her agency. But she finds herself interesting situation with the worlds grumpiest entrepreneur. A stoic, businessman, who's all numbers, and only cares about results. He's not so easily impressed by her eccentric, attractive personality. Or... is he? He's never met a woman as persistent as her, as attractive enough for him to want to engage with her. Besides, based on his always busy schedule, there was no time to fool around with a woman- with a temptress he met on a whim. A siren who looked at him in ways that he was always looked at. But there was something about her that was different. Or rather indifferent.
The plan was simple in theory. Pay him to play the part of loving, charming boyfriend turned fiancรฉ. Get out of being married off to some snobby, mayor's son that I had no interest in what so ever, drop him after his kind services were finished, and live my fabulously wealthy life happily ever after. What I wasn't expecting was for us getting involved as much as we did. He was... cute, I guess. I liked him- or maybe I liked his attention... He put up with my attitude, took me out, and he was actually interesting.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
MC is a billionaire's daughter who's being forced into a marriage she could careless for, let alone wants to go through. When she trips up during an outing with her family berating her about them setting her up with a bachelor and claims she's in a relationship, she comes across a YC, a seemingly well dressed man who's there for different reasons and gets him to agree to pose as her boyfriend for her family. Nothing is ever that simple. A once stranger now becomes her entire world tangled in her web of lies, unexplained feelings, and a ton of money...
โทPairing Idea:Book AgentโBook Editor โทTags:xgrumpy x grumpyx โ xhard to getx โ xvanilla romancex โ xromantic comedyx
You know how the trope goes in movies. City person goes to rural, country side for work, leaving their big city life behind for a week. They try and drown themselves in work, disgusted by the country smellโ yknow, manure, dewy fresh grass smell in the morning, trees, and not a Starbucks in a 2-mile radius. But then they run into the love of their life and try and save the town and decide they want to leave the city to live out the rest of their lives with their new lover. But what happens to the person on the other side? The person and the life they leave in the city?
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
MC is an agent for a literature company with a perfect life and half a dream job for one of the best publishing companies in Manhattan. Her life revolves around books but she is no heroine. Her life isn't peachy and vanilla like the books she reads. Its quite the opposite. She's logical, and pessimistic, and to make matters worse, her boyfriend dumps her after not returning from a work trip in Minnesota. YC is a brooding, grumpy editor who knows he's certainly no ones hero either. Cynical, and just as pessimistic as MC. A competitive duo at it's finest. They're both asked to team up on next novel together, but not in the comfort of their homes but in the setting of the latest book they're to work on.
In a sea of bored students with too much money and not a worry in the world, within the walls of my lecture hall, he was one to follow every move. Every action, every word, every changed expression of mine. His eyes followed, dancing with me. I felt his stare burning at my back every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for two hours. Yes he was staring- he had too. They all had to. But he... He never once did he look at me as if I was boring. He was an exciting blast of color to the dull life I'd led up until then.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
A college professor at an elite, upper class college finds herself in a troubling situation. Her student, curious about her while having a small crush on her, decides he'd like to take the summer course that she offers at the end of the semester. Being the only one to sign up, she agrees without understanding the true extent of what his meaning of "summer course" means. Instead of it traditionally happening on university grounds, she finds herself at his family's private island in the middle of nowhere for three months. She's on his territory, in his family home, his controlled environment. Risks, secrets, and scandals all come alive on the island but will they make it out in one piece?
(I've written this story a few times already with MC being the professor, so I will only write this story if MC is the student.)
โทPairing Idea:ceoโexecutive assistant โทTags:xhome wreckingx โ xoffice dramax โ xmessy romancex โ xlove on the jobx โ xeroticx
This was not the type of relationship I signed up for when I signed his job offer. I should have never agreed. The job itself was already so intrusive. Knowing his schedule, his meetings, talking his his wife and kids, having dinner with them, and all while knowing he thinks about laying me across his desk after everyone's left for the day. Fuck... And all by the man who you're employed by. We didn't stop. Clearly. We're always in denial, which kept us from stopping. I felt bad. Not for him, for his family and for the lives he'd ruin with me.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
Coming soon.
Basically, really toxic working couple who can't control their desires for each other. MC becomes a homewrecker and eventually they got caught and have to fix their situation. We love a messy office romance.
We loved. We loved before responsibility. We loved so much, and so deep. And then it ended in ruin. We loved before we knew who we were. We loved and it was requited, pure, and simple. And then I broke him. I shattered whatever beautiful peace we shared, whatever beautiful image he had of me, and left him for dead. He thought so highly of me once. For him, whatever I had to say- no matter how silly, was important. Doberman, they called him now. He was ruthless, cruel, a cold-blooded killed hardened by his unfortunate life, and not nearly the person I knew way back in our youth.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
MC and YC were old lovers, old flames from years past. Like a modern day Romeo and Juliet, they simply just can't be together. Feuding families, power struggles and dirty money moving her fathers country. It only makes sense they're not supposed to be together. With MC's father only having daughters, he wants to marry off his daughter ASAP in order to have someone take over his business and assets, as he's only getting older. While his daughter is more than capable of taking over, she has no interest in taking over her family dealings. Threatened by the sudden rise to power that YC's family is coming up on, MC's father decides to call for a truce and within the terms of the truce means his daughter and their son are to marry. Having not seen each other in over ten years after MC abruptly ends their relationship to keep them both from getting in trouble- or better yet executed- MC learns that she's to marry the opposing family's son "Doberman."
There was something frustratingly intriguing and almost provocative in the way his mind worked. Our small talk was always short. The less filler chat we had the more he allowed me to let me dive into the darkest depths of his mind. A place no one tried to voyage. He wasn't your standard patient who simply hated everything or was misunderstood or had mommy issues. He wasn't someone who wanted to just interrupt the flow of life because he felt like it. He manipulated people and he was too good at it. I understood the dangers of speaking with him on the levels I did, and I knew it was wrong. All of it. I knew each of his crimes was wrong, how he evaded capture was wrong. I knew right down to the way he made me feel when he greeted me the same way when he'd entered my office was wrong. I always found myself disgusted by it at first. Always with a frigid, frightening smile, "My little mind princess. Here to dissect my brain again, huh?" He, always sarcastic, always handcuffed at his wrists and ankles, and always with an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
This would be written more in an interview style with a recollection of details/crimes that YC explains to his psychologist (MC). He's a little crazy but not in a wild, erratic way. He's calm, sarcastic, and eccentric. He's actively on trial for a multitude of crimes but in order to properly determine his verdict the court needs to see where he's at mentally with the help of the psychologist. The Psychologist will ask a question and criminal answers and the way he answers is basically the way we'd write. A flashback of his crimes for each question, we are the ones to dive into the details of each scene. I'd like to maybe dabble in a taboo relationship, but that could come a little later. I try to leave this plot a little open-ended to allow collaboration for whoever picks it up.
There was something frustratingly intriguing and almost provocative in the way his mind worked. Our small talk was always short. The less filler chat we had the more he allowed me to let me dive into the darkest depths of his mind. A place no one tried to voyage. He wasn't your standard patient who simply hated everything or was misunderstood or had mommy issues. He wasn't someone who wanted to just interrupt the flow of life because he felt like it. He manipulated people and he was too good at it. I understood the dangers of speaking with him on the levels I did, and I knew it was wrong. All of it. I knew each of his crimes was wrong, how he evaded capture was wrong. I knew right down to the way he made me feel when he greeted me the same way when he'd entered my office was wrong. I always found myself disgusted by it at first. Always with a frigid, frightening smile, "My little mind princess. Here to dissect my brain again, huh?" He, always sarcastic, always handcuffed at his wrists and ankles, and always with an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ฒ :
This would be written more in an interview style with a recollection of details/crimes that YC explains to his psychologist (MC). He's a little crazy but not in a wild, erratic way. He's calm, sarcastic, and eccentric. He's actively on trial for a multitude of crimes but in order to properly determine his verdict the court needs to see where he's at mentally with the help of the psychologist. The Psychologist will ask a question and criminal answers and the way he answers is basically the way we'd write. A flashback of his crimes for each question, we are the ones to dive into the details of each scene. I'd like to maybe dabble in a taboo relationship, but that could come a little later. I try to leave this plot a little open-ended to allow collaboration for whoever picks it up.
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