Dark romance author | Twisting hearts & fantasies one word at a time. I write what you crave, obsession, dominance, desire. Enter my world, but don’t expect to
take the sex away and you'll come to realize that not many individuals have much to offer emotionally, mentally, spiritually or soulfully. our society, this generation is so pressed for physicality that y'all forget mentality and personality creates the bond and forms longevity.
"Truth or dare?" he asked.
"Dare" she smirked.
"Turn off the lights," he whispered, "and sit on my lap... but be careful,
if you miss even a little,
you'll earn yourself a punishment."
Girls with thick thighs deserve to be worshipped. Just imagine the way your hardness slides right between those soft, warm thighs, so close, yet not inside her. And then she squeezes, trapping you with all that plush pressure.
"Are you my good girl?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing her cheek. She paused, her eyes searching his, and then she nodded, a tiny "Yes" slipping from her lips. That was all he needed.
Wind tugs at jackets, the city glowing below them.
She leans against the railing.
He steps close, voice low.
“Up here,” he says, “everything honest comes out.”
Her silence answers first.
A room no one uses.
A bed no one sleeps in.
They sit on opposite sides, pretending distance means safety.
It doesn’t.
The space between them feels charged, waiting to be crossed.
being clingy is so cute..yes, pls lay on my chest, lick my face, kiss me 10 times in a row, rub my back, tickle me, hold my hand, hug me at random, double text me.. i love it.
Touchy dom guiding you with their hand on your back, holding your thigh when you’re sitting, holding your hand when you walk… gr0ping you a little while you’re out in public so you remember who you belong to… leaving their hand marks all over your body to be with you always <33
He painted her without permission.
Dozens of canvases.
Different emotions.
Different versions of her.
When she confronted him, he whispered:
“You don’t understand.
I don’t paint what I see…
I paint what you make me feel.”
Her: “You’re the last person I should call.”
Him: “And yet… I’m always the first one you dial.”
Her: “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”
Him: “Sweetheart, I’d answer even if we weren’t speaking.”
Every time she lied, he caught it.
Every time she smiled, he knew it wasn’t real.
“You’re not hard to read,” he told her quietly.
“You’re hard to handle.
That’s why they leave.
That’s why I stay.”
Rain pouring.
Thunder shaking the ground.
She tried to run past him
he grabbed her shoulders, drenched and furious.
“I’m not letting you walk into a storm alone,” he snapped.
“Even if you hate me.”