Dirty Little Secret ― Chai & MrPositive | nsfw

[Chai]

█████████████ ⠀𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝​ ■ ■ ■⠀⠀a roleplay by Chai and MrPositive​ █████████ ⠀𝚜 𝚞 𝚖 𝚖 𝚊 𝚛 𝚢⠀───​ She didn't know why she started writing about him. Her boss. Maybe it was for the money she got as a freelance writer. Or maybe it was because she fantasized about him almost daily—fantasized about slipping into a secluded conference room, being stripped down to her lacy black thong, and being bent over the table while he went down, down, down... Writing was a seemingly innocent outlet, and it's not like anyone would find out anyway, least of all him.​ █████████████ ⠀𝚌 𝚑 𝚊 𝚛 𝚊 𝚌 𝚝 𝚎 𝚛 𝚜⠀───​ 𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚘𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗​ 𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗​

⠀⠀code for⠀𝚌 𝚑 𝚕 𝚘 𝚎⠀⠀​

[xtable=border:0|bcolor:#161616|bcenter]{tr}{td=border:0}[floatleft][xtable=border:0]{tr}{td=border:0|40pxx@}{/td}{td=border:0|220pxx@}
[CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/FsRaTGN.png[/img][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SIZE=36px][COLOR=#80a4a8]𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚘𝚎[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=24px][COLOR=#497b80]𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE=14px][highlight=#80a4a8]⠀[size=12px][b][COLOR=#232d2e]25[/COLOR][/b][/size]⠀[/highlight][/SIZE]

[font=Courier][size=12px][COLOR=#a8998a]CLEVER[/COLOR][color=#ffffff]⠀|⠀[/color][COLOR=#a8998a]RESERVED[/COLOR][color=#ffffff]⠀|⠀[/color][COLOR=#a8998a]TEASE[/COLOR][/size][/font]

[SIZE=14px][highlight=#80a4a8]⠀[size=12px][b][COLOR=#232d2e]sex & relationships writer[/COLOR][/b][/size]⠀[/highlight][/SIZE][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][COLOR=#b8ada2]❝[/COLOR]⠀[size=13px][font=Courier][COLOR=#a8998a]dripped in gold, kiss me and take off your clothes
can you imagine a world like that?[/COLOR][/font][/size]⠀[COLOR=#b8ada2]❞[/COLOR][/CENTER]
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[JUSTIFY][SIZE=13px]Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

[COLOR=#80a4a8]"This is some example quote text,"[/COLOR] she said.

Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi architecto beatae vitae dicta sunt explicabo. Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem quia voluptas sit aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt. Neque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem.

Ut enim ad minima veniam, quis nostrum exercitationem ullam corporis suscipit laboriosam, nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequatur? Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?[/SIZE][/JUSTIFY]

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⠀⠀code for⠀𝚊 𝚍 𝚛 𝚒 𝚊 𝚗⠀⠀​

[xtable=border:0|bcolor:#161616|bcenter]{tr}{td=border:0}[floatleft][xtable=border:0]{tr}{td=border:0|40pxx@}{/td}{td=border:0|220pxx@}
[CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/qnLpJqS.jpg[/img][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SIZE=36px][COLOR=#8ca88f]𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=24px][COLOR=#58705a]𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE=14px][highlight=#8ca88f]⠀[size=12px][b][COLOR=#272e28]39[/COLOR][/b][/size]⠀[/highlight][/SIZE]

[font=Courier][size=12px][COLOR=#a8998a]CALCULATED[/COLOR][color=#ffffff]⠀|⠀[/color][COLOR=#a8998a]CALM[/COLOR]
[color=#ffffff]⠀|⠀[/color][COLOR=#a8998a]AFFECTIONATE[/COLOR][/size][/font]

[SIZE=14px][highlight=#8ca88f]⠀[size=12px][b][COLOR=#272e28]editor-in-chief[/COLOR][/b][/size]⠀[/highlight][/SIZE][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][COLOR=#b8ada2]❝[/COLOR]⠀[size=13px][font=Courier][COLOR=#a8998a]A good story isn't just about what's said—it's about what's left unsaid. 
The space between the words is where the truth lives.[/COLOR][/font][/size]⠀[COLOR=#b8ada2]❞[/COLOR][/CENTER]
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[JUSTIFY][SIZE=13px]Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

[COLOR=#8ca88f]"This is some example quote text,"[/COLOR] he said.

Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi architecto beatae vitae dicta sunt explicabo. Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem quia voluptas sit aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt. Neque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem.

Ut enim ad minima veniam, quis nostrum exercitationem ullam corporis suscipit laboriosam, nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequatur? Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?[/SIZE][/JUSTIFY]

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[Chai]

𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚘𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗 ⠀25⠀ CLEVER⠀|⠀RESERVED⠀|⠀TEASE ⠀sex & relationships writer⠀​     ❝⠀dripped in gold, kiss me and take off your clothes can you imagine a world like that?⠀❞​ For the third time in a row, Chloe Hamilton inspected a list of potential topics she'd jotted down. She took a sip from the Starbucks cup on her desk—a double tall oat milk latte—and leaned back in her chair. After giving it some thought, she sighed and went to scratch out another item off the list, the tip of the pen leaving an aggressive indent on the paper from the force of her scribbling. A brief moment passed while she tapped the end of the pen against the notepad, and then tossed it down in frustration. "Sex. Relationships. Dating apps," someone read off the list behind her, his mocking tone playful, "such riveting subjects. Chloe swiveled halfway in her chair, picking up the notepad to swat the man on the arm, an embarrassed grimace on her face. Max, one of the senior editors, had initiated her into the world of Pulse when she was hired on to write for Confidential, one of the magazine's Sex & Relationships columns that was supposed to "divulge all the secrets from a woman's point of view." They'd become fast friends in the two and a half months she'd been there, bonding over the fact that neither of them were originally from New York and both had uprooted their whole lives to work for the popular men's magazine. Chloe had always known she wanted to get away from the small town she'd grown up in, and Max had put his communications degree to good use after his family disowned him for being gay. "When do you actually work?" Chloe teased him, "Shouldn't you be writing about 'culture' or whatever it is you're in charge of?" "I review my team's work, honey, that's what the 'senior editor' in my title is for." Max grinned at her, then gestured with his hand as if to coax her into getting up. "And that's also how I know someone's in need of a break. Better that it comes from me and not Heather." Chloe only had to think about it for half a second before nodding in agreement; Heather, her own boss, was a brilliant woman who was much harsher about what she deemed to be wasted time. The two of them left her desk, walking into the open workspace. Iconic covers of Pulse artfully decorated the west wall while the east was covered in tacked-up drafts of the next working issue. Pages of plastered tentative articles were covered in sticky notes; while it may have looked a mess to any outsider, it was evidence of a well oiled machine that knew its system well. A team of junior editors peeked up from their work as they saw the two friends approach, many saying hello as they passed by. "...The carbs are so good, though," Max said dramatically after he finished telling her about the new bagel place that opened a couple of blocks away from their building. Chloe feigned horror. "Think of the calories, Max!" she giggled, rolling her eyes. They rounded a corner, the elevators coming into view. A short while later, they were on their way down to the 30th floor, the doors opening with a pleasant dinging sound to the gentle hubbub of a social affair. Usually there was something very clinical about office buildings. Not so for this one. Laurent-Ellis—the massive parent media company that owned Pulse and a number of other publications—had spared no expense in creating a warm, inviting event hall for its employees, down to the designer lighting, plush seating, and massive waterfall fountain that adorned the far wall. Chloe knew it was a company sponsored party to celebrate all who'd been nominated for the National Magazine Awards, a few even having come from Pulse for all three categories of writing, design, and photography. One of the sister publications, Nouvelle, had even been nominated for Magazine of the Year. "Rob, hey!" Chloe gently caught a passing middle aged man and gave him a wide smile. She recognized him as the magazine's art director from upstairs. "Congrats on the nomination for Excellence in Publication Design. I'm sure your whole team is just over the moon." "They are! In fact some of them are floating around here if you want to say hi. I'm actually heading back now, but thank you so much." "Someone's been networking," Max observed with approval after Rob had walked away. Chloe didn't know whether to thank him or hit him with another notepad. She might have been young and new but she wasn't an idiot. "I promise you, I know my way around an office," she scoffed at him playfully, "and other people. Some might even say I'm good at it. Imagine that!" She whispered the words as if they were scandalous and Max scowled at her. "You could just take the compliment you know, you—oh my god, the bagels," he almost groaned, just now noticing the long buffet table set out with refreshments and food. His precious bagels were out for the taking amongst the array of finger sandwiches, quiches, fruit, and mini-desserts on tiered trays. "Just one wouldn’t hurt," Chloe said to her friend, but he was already gone, leaving her alone to mingle by herself.​

 

[MrPositive]

𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗 ⠀39⠀ CALCULATED⠀|⠀CALM ⠀|⠀AFFECTIONATE ⠀editor-in-chief⠀​     ❝⠀A good story isn't just about what's said—it's about what's left unsaid. The space between the words is where the truth lives.⠀❞​ PROLOGUE Adrian Carlson grew up in Chicago, the eldest of three in a family that valued practicality over passion. His father was a corporate lawyer, his mother a respected professor, and both expected their children to pursue stable, prestigious careers. Journalism, in their eyes, was neither. Adrian, however, had always been drawn to stories—how they were told, what they revealed, and the power they held. He started as a reporter straight out of college, cutting his teeth in hard news before shifting toward long-form editorial work. His ability to remain calm under pressure and his knack for shaping narratives quickly caught the attention of industry veterans, and by his early thirties, he was one of the youngest managing editors at a major publication. Despite his professional success, his personal life had been less structured. He'd been engaged once, years ago, but the relationship crumbled under the weight of long hours and his relentless ambition. Since then, he'd kept most of his relationships casual, too aware of the sacrifices required to reach the top. Now, at 39, Adrian was the Editor-in-Chief of Pulse, a men's magazine that had weathered its fair share of industry turbulence. Under his leadership, it had evolved—balancing traditional masculinity with modern perspectives, avoiding the pitfall of becoming outdated while still holding onto its identity. He was calculated in his decisions, deliberate in his leadership, and, despite his calm exterior, deeply invested in making Pulse not just relevant, but essential. Even if he didn't admit it out loud, he knew that for all the stories he helped tell, there was still one he hadn't quite figured out—his own. PRESENT DAY Adrian Carlson stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Laurent-Ellis event hall, a whiskey in one hand and a folded program in the other. His dark eyes flicked over the list of nominees, pausing briefly on the names from Pulse, before he exhaled softly through his nose. A small, satisfied smirk touched his lips. It had been a strong year for the magazine. Stronger than most had expected, considering the industry's ever-changing landscape and the constant debate over whether men's magazines were still relevant in the modern media space. He tipped his glass back for a slow sip, the ice clinking against the crystal, before he felt a presence settle beside him. "Gloating?" Heather Moore's voice was amused as she joined him, her own drink in hand. Adrian chuckled, glancing sideways at his executive editor. "Not yet. Maybe if we actually win something." She hummed, a knowing sound. "Oh, come on, Pulse cleaned up this year. At the very least, we'll take home something for design. Rob and his team have been killing it." Adrian nodded, gaze sweeping the room. The event space was buzzing with energy—writers, editors, designers, and executives from every Laurent-Ellis publication mingling under the glow of soft, strategically placed lighting. Pulse might not have been the crown jewel of the company, not in the way Nouvelle was, but they were proving they still had a place. His place. A flaSh of movement caught his attention—a woman with long, dark hair brushing past on her way to the buffet. Younger, likely one of the newer hires. She was laughing at something, her eyes bright as she made an offhand comment to a colleague who had already abandoned her in favor of the food. Heather followed his gaze, her lips curving slightly. "Chloe Hamilton." Adrian raised an eyebrow. "New?" "Relatively," she confirmed. "Hired a couple of months ago for Confidential." Ah. That made sense. He'd skimmed a few of her pieces—not bad, though a little green. Still, she had a voice, and that mattered. "She any good?" "She's got potential," Heather admitted. "Sharp. Quick. Needs some polish, but she's figuring it out." Adrian hummed in response, shifting his attention back to the conversation at hand. He wasn't in the habit of micromanaging the magazine's individual columns—he had people like Heather for that—but he made it a point to know the talent under his roof. And Chloe Hamilton, it seemed, was someone worth keeping an eye on. ​

 

[Chai]

𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚘𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗 ⠀25⠀ CLEVER⠀|⠀RESERVED⠀|⠀TEASE ⠀sex & relationships writer⠀​     ❝⠀dripped in gold, kiss me and take off your clothes can you imagine a world like that?⠀❞​ Max had disappeared after his trip to the buffet table, flitting around from group to group and saying hello to various acquaintances both from within Pulse and out of it. Not that it was a problem for Chloe—she could hold her own without Max's help, finding herself being pulled along by Janelle, a lively black girl who was around her age and worked in the design department. Chloe was introduced to all her friends, many of whom were from Nouvelle, and soon enough they were gathered in a circle near one of the many lounge areas in the event hall. "I hear you're on Confidential," one of the women nudged Chloe, cocking an eyebrow and grinning. "When do we get to read the goods? All the spicy stuff." A round of giggles went around the group. "Officially in print? This current cycle," Chloe said, laughing along, "but I've written a bunch for Pulse online. No spice, unfortunately." In the time since being hired, she'd contributed a number of features to the magazine's online division, covering a variety of topics even outside of sex and relationships. Not all of them had been approved by Heather, but that was to be expected. She knew the only way to hone her craft was to write, and write a lot. Her boss rightfully picked only the best ones and gave valuable, if a little pointed, feedback on the rejects. 'As iron sharpens iron,' or however that saying went. "I'm surprised you didn't try for Nouvelle, but I'd be surprised if we had any openings that are filled externally." "You don't just try for that," another one chimed in wistfully, a wicked glint in her eye as her voice dropped to a whisper. She leaned in conspiratorially. "The stars have to align, karma has to be on your side, and you have to sacrifice your firstborn to Regina Staunton herself." The group erupted in a fit of snickers, shushing each other like a gaggle of schoolgirls. "Speaking of—it's the queen herself." Janelle subtly nodded toward the far end of the room where a tall, silver haired woman nearing 60 years-old glided across the marble floors. Anyone who was anybody in fashion and print journalism knew who Regina Staunton was. Chloe herself had idolized the editor-in-chief of Nouvelle all through her university career. If she had a screw or two loose, she might have actually considered sacrificing her firstborn to the woman just for a job at her magazine. Maybe she'd even consider it now. Pulse wasn’t a bad choice, but it certainly wasn't the largest women's fashion and lifestyle magazine in the world. The group watched as Regina approached Adrian with a warm smile, an image of aristocratic elegance as she cheek kissed him. With amateur lip reading skills, Chloe could make out a 'congratulations, darling' at the start of their conversation. "Who is that?" The same girl from before drank in a long look at Adrian before turning back to the group and exaggeratedly fanned herself. "Adrian Carlson," Chloe found herself replying, her gaze fixated on the rim of her champagne glass. "The head of Pulse." "God, I might actually try harder at work if my boss looked like that." Chloe let out a quiet laugh, tucking one side of her honey-blonde hair behind an ear. "Boss's boss, actually." She looked up then, finding Adrian alone again. A breath caught in her throat as her eyes connected with his, electricity racing across her skin. Of course, he could have been looking at something else entirely—she found New Yorkers had an interesting habit of staring straight through people—but her intuition was screaming that he was looking at her. Suddenly she was very thankful that she'd worn a figure-hugging dress and a good stiletto heel that day. She watched him bring his drink to his lips, knowing it was inappropriate to stare but unable to look away. Then Max stepped into view, breaking her line of sight. "I'm heading back now, babe. If I stay here I might have another go at the dessert table, and my poor diet can't afford that." He patted his clearly fit abdomen and Chloe rolled her eyes. "Sure, I'll meet you up there." Her friend stepped to the side, but Adrian was already engrossed in chit chat with someone else. She swallowed, wondering if it was her overactive imagination that resulted in… whatever that was. But maybe it wasn't.​

 

[MrPositive]

𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗 ⠀39⠀ CALCULATED⠀|⠀CALM ⠀|⠀AFFECTIONATE ⠀editor-in-chief⠀​     ❝⠀A good story isn't just about what's said—it's about what's left unsaid. The space between the words is where the truth lives.⠀❞​ Adrian tipped his glass back, letting the last of the whiskey burn smooth down his throat. He was about to step away when Regina Staunton approached, gliding toward him with the kind of effortless poise that came from decades at the top. "Adrian, darling," she greeted, her voice rich and accented with the faintest trace of old money. She kissed his cheek lightly, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air. "Congratulations. Pulse is making waves." Adrian gave a small smile. "So they tell me." She let out a knowing hum, her sharp eyes assessing him. "I assume you've heard the whispers." "Which ones?" he asked dryly. "The ones where print is dying? Or the ones where Nouvelle is singlehandedly saving it?" Regina chuckled, a low, elegant sound. "Flatterer." She tilted her head, studying him with the kind of patience that made most men nervous. "No, I meant the whispers about Pulse. There’s talk. Good talk. You’re reshaping the magazine into something relevant again. Men’s publications are tricky these days—so many of them refuse to evolve. But you… You’re moving with the times. That’s rare." Adrian let the words settle, taking in the weight of them. Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like idle flattery. But Regina wasn’t the kind to waste words, and she certainly wasn’t in the business of handing out compliments without reason. "You're making me think there's a 'but' coming", he mused. She smiled—an unreadable expression, like a chess player contemplating her next move. "No 'but.' Just an observation." She paused, her gaze flicking across the room, scanning the crowd with the keen eye of a woman who had built an empire on knowing who mattered and who didn’t. "Tell me, do you still enjoy it?" Adrian arched a brow. "What? Running a magazine? Or the constant existential crisis that comes with it?" Regina laughed, lightly patting his arm. "Both." He considered that for a moment, his eyes drifting across the room—over the clusters of editors, writers, and designers, all talking, drinking, celebrating the work they’d poured themselves into. His work. He caught a glimpse of Pulse's newest voices—Heather, engaged in conversation with a few industry insiders, and further back, Chloe Hamilton, surrounded by a group from Nouvelle, looking every bit like she belonged in their world. His gaze lingered a second too long. When her eyes met his, something flickered—an awareness, a question left unspoken. She was the first to look away. Adrian straightened slightly, turning back to Regina. "I do." She watched him, amused, as if she'd caught the exact moment his attention had shifted. "Good. Because I think you’re only getting started." With that, she squeezed his arm, leaving him with nothing but the faint trace of her perfume and the unmistakable feeling that she knew more than she was letting on.​