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Index
Introduction
Details and Expectations
Genre's | Pairings | Kinks
Plots
Plot Bunnies
Writing Samples
Do not post here! Please message me for plotting!
➢ ➣ ➢
Index
Introduction
Details and Expectations
Genre's | Pairings | Kinks
Plots
Plot Bunnies
Writing Samples
Do not post here! Please message me for plotting!
Introduction
Hello there! It's nice to meet you. Let me tell you a little bit about myself.
I'm a romantic novella writer who's been RPing for over 15 years. I find comfort in writing with those who are easygoing and incredibly understanding of any delays and respect my life outside of a writing space. I adore story, world building, and character development. Flaws are often a part of my character creation and as such, I enjoy when characters develop overtime and bloom (or wilt) into what fate may have in store for them. Tragic backstories are something I thrive on, as they assist my muse significantly - though that does not mean my character will be a victim. I can play anyone from the biggest sweetheart to the most wicked of villains. When it comes to writing, I typically take my time as I put so much care into each post that I make. My posts tend to focus on story first and foremost, so if you're in search of a romp, you won't find that here. I never push for replies and I'm always rather giving when it comes to my writing style.
My likely roleplay response time: It could be weekly/biweekly, or a bit longer. Patient partners are ideal during this time as I am delving back into writing.
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Information;♦ Currently searching for MxM (Nb & Trans inclusive!)
♦ For MxM, I mostly write dominant/top/masculine types, but I write all others as well. I do have a slight preference for MxM pairings revolving around a stereotype of masculine x feminine, but this is not required. Versatile can be the most realistic and I write that, too.
♦ All genders are accepted here!
♦ Communication is a lovely, positive thing! I'm also ghost friendly and break friendly.
♦ Third person RP only.
♦ I typically play characters between 26-35 years of age. Please have characters who are over 21.
♦ We all make mistakes when writing. No pressure. No judgment.
♦ Long term stories~!
♦ Real life always comes first - for the both of us! If you disappear, no problem! I'll be here.
♦ I primarily use face claims, but I love art and descriptions as well.
♦ Story driven RP's are a favourite and I tend to prefer 70/30 [story/smut]. The ratio is not permanent and can be flexible. I offer a ratio as a way to express my desire for story focus first. This doesn't mean I dislike smut! I just wish for it to be reasonably and realistically placed. I will not respond to smut requests and will not indulge in playing out a smut filled fantasy. This is not what I'm here for. I'm a slow-burn writer.
♦ If you prefer to write FtB or platonic stories, I am open to it! Just let me know.
♦ I write roughly 1000-2500+ words or more. I'm a novella poster. I'm searching for multi-para or novella posters.
♦ Colourful writing is welcome here. It is not a necessity. Write how you want to, as long as you're comfortable.
♦ I won't double - But I can play multiple characters for the story.
♦ I am not my character. Please do not message me with the intention of using "you and I" and instead offer "MC and YC". I also do not roleplay with people who use self-inserts, this is a hard rule.
♦ Do not flirt with me. This is also a hard rule. I am happily betrothed to my lovely dark goddess who also writes on here as well!
♦ I may have to take some mental health days. If this happens, I will do my best to communicate it, especially if it may delay my posts. That said, I am incredibly understanding when it comes to post delays!
♦ If you aren't feeling the story at all, please know that it's okay! Let me know and there will never be any hard feelings.
♦ I deep dive into my character's thoughts, feelings, and motives toward the opposite character/s. One of the most interesting concepts to me is to witness a characters deepest, darkest thoughts. As a romantic writer, I delve into the broad spectrum of emotion, romantic involvement, perception, reactions, heartache, the pulling of strings, and many additional concepts. I also adore a good dark extreme story. Anything from the brash and irrational world of a devastating novel, to the core fears of a frightening town of horrors -or even a heinous taste of kidnapping, serial killers, demons, and monsters.
♦ If you happen to think we're compatible, send a message my way! But please note I won't reply to a simple "wanna rp?" question. If you send me a message with next to no context, or with clear indication you have not read my thread at all, I likely won't respond. This shows me that we won't be compatible from the start.
Genre's | Pairings | Kinks
- Genre's
- Pairings
- Kinks
Inspiration
[Musician x Friend]
Romance | Slice of Life | Heartfelt | Emotional | Slow Burn | Drama
Struggling to write music after his tour, a musician returns to his hometown alone to find some peace and quiet away from the world. No longer in the big city, he finds comfort in the old things he used to do when he wasn't famous, reminiscing on the life he once had. While out at a bar (or elsewhere) all by his lonesome, an old friend happens to stop by and the two catch up. The two end up spending most of their evening together. Without anywhere to stay, the friend offers the musician a place to crash at his house for a while. Years prior, the two held mutual unspoken feelings for one another and after all the years which passed, those feelings begin to slowly resurface over time.
I welcome any possibilities to make this a passionate and potentially heart wrenching story.
[Willing to write either role]
A Place to Stay
MC returns home early from a vacation during the middle of the night, only to find YC fast asleep in his house. Though at first there may be a misunderstanding, MC soon finds out that YC is in need of a home and offers to open up his own in order to help them get back on their feet. What YC doesn't know is the impact they've made on MC by being at the right place, at the right time.
Reunited
Based on: Sekaiichi Hatsukoi (willing to write a Fandom as well)
Slow Burn | Drama | Angst | Slice of Life | Romance | Ex's | 28+
When they were younger, our characters had a brief romantic relationship and may have even been considered first loves. Despite their inexperienced anxieties, the two connect on a personal level before a series of drama occurs. Due to unfortunate circumstances, YC or MC suddenly moves away and all contact is lost, never to be heard from again. Years into the future, YC is hired at an important, busy company (to be decided upon). MC is the director of said company and is well known throughout the office. As they meet for the first time, our characters can't quite place where they've seen each other before, finding their connection somewhat familiar. Eventually, MC figures out who YC is and tries to make a personal, intimate connection once again, explaining who they are only for a series of events to follow.
Personally, I'd like YC to play hard to get in this scenario, whether he means to or not and slowly fall for MC.
Silent Infatuation
Slow Burn | Tragedy | Angst | Slice of Life | Opposites Attract | Romance
Looking to write an emotional, tragic and heartfelt story which brings two characters close together. MC would be an empathetic, bright and uplifting younger man, leaning toward the a feminine appearance (and my only bottom role request). I'm looking for someone willing to play someone a bit older than him, scruffy, rough around the edges, perhaps a character with a darker background. Despite this, perhaps YC is going through a rough time emotionally, perhaps they lost their job, a loved one, got a divorce; anything. Perhaps MC is a neighbour, someone who notices something is off with YC and strikes up simple conversation in the hallway or elevator. MC could even be hired, someone who would be willing to listen. The two bond over time and while there may be drama amidst everything, their lives somehow come closer together and their affection begins to develop.
Roads Untraveled
[Survivor x Survivor]
Tragedy | Horror | Angst | Romance
It has been years since the Apocalypse and humanity is at an all time low. It's rare to come across another human, let alone one without ill intentions. With the world in such a horrible state, food is scarce, water is limited, the sun is constantly shadowed and living animals are rare. The climate is constantly changing as dangerous forecasts continue to erupt without warning. As our characters cross paths, they likely end up untrusting of one another in fear of intentions brought on by others. Perhaps hope allows itself to linger beyond the faces in which humans hold.
Outbreak
[Survivor x Survivor]
Zombie Apocalypse | Tragedy | Angst | Horror | Action | Romance
Within the blink of an eye everything around them suddenly changed. What was once a complex wonder had turned into an everlasting tragedy. The clean streets of the city now covered in the epitome of bloodshed and chaos as humans panicked and everything fell into absolute desolation. Rumor's established that the government was behind the outbreak, that they caused the destruction of their planet, but no one truly knew the answer. The virus spread like wildfire and humans who were bitten changed within mere hours into mindless creatures that knew nothing more than to feed. I lean toward a preference of the apocalypse having already started, but I'm willing to listen to any ideas and alter what I may search for.
[Currently searching for Low-Fantasy]
Unexpected Infatuation
[Prince x Valet]
MC is a Prince who denies all possible marriage candidates that have approached him throughout the years. His parents grow quite frustrated with MC for his inability to choose a wife, yet he sees nothing wrong with it. MC does not wish to marry for money, nor has anyone piqued his fancy. The King soon hires YC, a new valet (servant) to replace the old one. Though at first the prince is reluctant, he soon warms up to his new valet who seemingly follows him everywhere, sharing every thought that's on his mind. Perhaps the prince didn't need to search at all for someone to love, perhaps they were closer to home than expected.
Plot Bunnies
Below are simplistic ideas and pairings that are open to bigger plot concepts in need of collaboration.
- Modern
- Apocalyptic
- Other
Writing Samples
Below are some samples from previous roleplays. Feel free to take a look!
Below are some samples from previous roleplays. Feel free to take a look!
Tension remained conspicuous, a daring action once unacquainted between the both of them. An unspoken language that lingered within the opaque atmosphere, surrounding them with an undeniable barrier of burden and uncertainty. For with one strike, Nagoth was wary of the oncoming endeavors that found him lacking within favor, likely to fall to his knees in defeat. Offensive action could potentially cause his own dismay if one fatal response was of drastic cause. Imaging himself upon the disarray of unforeseen possibilities, his mind fought against the irrationality of what bitter attempt the woman could potentially accomplish. Feisty, with a lingering perilous aura, his expectations veered from unreasonable pessimism to what truth and reality spoke. The Baffometi Clan were known well for their relentless victories, flawlessly eradicating those who stood in their path and exuding their own form of dominance to challenge in return. What pitiful creatures dared to challenge them were to be embedded within the rocks beneath such treacherous lands. They weren't foolish enough to display weakness at their forefront, nor were they naïve to the cruelest of creatures within their vicinity, for there were far more threatening beings that sought to abolish any and all demons within their realm.
There reigned a suspenseful imbalance when other towering beasts sought their way with weapons and armor within their vicinity, crossing the barriers of lands and causing destruction to the Baffometi territory. One clan in particular prevailing of substantial brute nature far mightier than the goat clan known as the Minotauri. Their unbridled vulgarity knew no bounds, dismissing each formidable creature remaining in their path and leaving nothing but bloodshed. The disruption of bodies abandoned upon the rocky stones of Wrath cradled a ritual of their own, for their massacre was a bestowal to their leaders, The Legion of Zeraze. Trepidation lingered discreetly at the Baffometi's side, for they would show no weakness to the surreal reality of Minotauri's vigor, and alas, still remained cautious of their actions.
Alike with the primitive bulls, Nagoth grew weary of the wicked demoness. Unbeknownst to him, an onslaught could occur at a moment's notice without prediction. Remaining distant from her realm, she diverged from her sisters' retaliation, for her stance remained low and uncultured. A flame kindled within him, burning from the pleasure he received, excitement dwindling within the core of his being from such a noble fight they'd soon possess. He'd see to his triumph, expecting a superior outcome within his delicious corner. But it wasn't optimism which enabled his tenacious demeanor, only the temperament of his own animosity boiling from within. An undeniable hunger for disaster that allowed him to remain capable of ruining every potential outcome she'd attempt to retain. The succubus before him reigned of superiority in the likeness of her mother and yet, there lacked barren appeal to her appearance. Spite was written across her form, from the bridges of her piercing horns to the base of sharp claws, his expectations were beginning to lean into uncertainty. Though Nagoth remained vigilant and he saw to an opening, for the gorgeous yet deceitful creature refused to execute the first move. With little hesitation, he took stride within his action and readied his weapon, charging at the smaller demoness who was half his size. Though he lacked understanding of her response, having little to no time to calculate or prepare for such interaction. Impulsive actions were taken as that spear lingered at his side, ready to strike her down and apprehend her body only to present her sisters with his victory.
One abrupt strike would achieve his ever so distant desires. Alas, the world surrounding him reduced to a halt for the demoness overwhelmed expectation. Swift to relocate a distance away, those wings thrust her into the air at speeds unforeseen by Nagoth before. Unlike her sisters, her abilities already exceeded promise as she grew agile and nimble within the blink of crimson eyes. That shaft he held so valiantly swung, yet the edge of its piercing crown failed to meet with her flesh, cutting the most insignificant strand of her blackened hair as it whisked away from the gust of her wings. Regardless of such a distasteful miscalculation, he found solace in awaiting her next move with defensive form. The Baffometi lacked the dexterity to the degree of the feisty creature he sought to defeat. The igneous female before him lacked his strength just as he had with her agility, yet by the numbers their war would wage a hefty fight. Nagoth sought to deflect her, expecting that of fire or an irrational move of misunderstanding as he had with previous succubi as well. Yet, it was clear she was made aware of her own actions and he could feel the frustrations already boiling from within. Anger solved nothing, yet his irrefutable rage was unable to be prevented. In over his head, he knew to remain stagnant, as he sought to pay attention to her next move within only a moment's notice.
Despite her aerial shift, Nagoth could only regret his choices, as the hilt of his spear was upon its way to deflect. Yet time was not on his side. Belated within his defenses, he watched her body turn as the piercing blade of her tail traced drastically across his furred chest. Pain similar to an arrow strike, he growled fiercely from the bold move, an echo of his vociferous tone eluding within the vicinity. Furthest from a battle cry, it was deemed his frustrations were clear as the lava falls nearest them. Needless to say, he'd been used to this agony, often thriving off the addictive conflict causing him to burn even brighter than before. From such pain, he witnessed the bloodied tail before him just the same as the spurts of maroon in which she caused. A burning delicacy that only fed his fire, yet he was deemed to fall to her demise if only for a moment. As the igneous creature caused a storm of wind to cascade upon him, he was left within a vulnerable state, eyes closing temporarily to adhere to protection.
Regaining vision once more, his responses remained lethargic as he noticed her face enclose within distance only to betray that action and rush back. As Nagoth gripped his spear, he slammed the base within the ground, yet the rocks faltered, lacking the ability to maintain stability. As if almost instantly, the demoness's brash nails dug into his chest, irritating the already damaged flesh beneath his fur. What scars once remained healed were soon torn open by the sheer brutality of bladed talons. Hooking into the depths of his flesh, those teeth of his gritted, expressing another cry from utter torment. Yet, his voice hardly had time to speak as she propelled her body back with a forceful push of Nagoth's body sending him plunging to the rocks further behind him, spear still in hand. The size of his body was far greater than hers yet had been dropped effortlessly to the jagged stones that mauled his back. True anguish erupted from his spine, shaken only briefly down to his hooves, yet these frustrations continued to provide staggering vitality which rushed through him as adrenaline would. For Nagoth had not fallen without reason, as he took note of the demoness's ascend once more to the skies.
Truth be told, she could have vanished, left him there to struggle without cause, yet she remained within his presence ready to finish him off. Predictable, as any demon would rather destroy the creatures which challenged them, but it seemed that the igneous woman was assuming far less of him. Far from finished, Nagoth took clear notice of her stance from his grounded area, already gathering himself to his senses once more. Pushing to his feet, he felt the irrational sense of recognition within the air, eyes never falling from the merciless beauty in the sky. For her entirety materialized before him as he stood upon his hooves once more, using what he could of his metallic weapon to hoist him up. Despite his misery, a fight would never cease to exist until at least one of them fell. Nagoth watched in speculation as her stance wasn't deemed familiar, but the soul action of her essential being. While the masses could have been entranced by her beauty, Nagoth sought nothing more than his opportunity before him.
Beaten, bruised and bleeding, backing down was far from an option. It was the simplistic spark to her lips as an inferno of magic erupted gradually in comparison to her sisters and that which he took notice of. This deed was by far the most unexpected and yet conventional within his knowledge. Distraction had taken to the igneous demoness, for her jeweled gaze drifted from his own, inattentive to his own actions likely expecting nothing but acceptance from him. With valiant action, his stance altered as he gripped the piercing blade within his grip and braced for ascension. Just as he accomplished with the others, he felt the smuggest expression boast to his face, firmly locking onto the target above. Without further anticipation, the demon leaned back, arm following suit as he gripped the spear tightly before he pressed the entirety of his body forward and thrust the spear directly for the succubus while distractions had taken hold of her...
There reigned a suspenseful imbalance when other towering beasts sought their way with weapons and armor within their vicinity, crossing the barriers of lands and causing destruction to the Baffometi territory. One clan in particular prevailing of substantial brute nature far mightier than the goat clan known as the Minotauri. Their unbridled vulgarity knew no bounds, dismissing each formidable creature remaining in their path and leaving nothing but bloodshed. The disruption of bodies abandoned upon the rocky stones of Wrath cradled a ritual of their own, for their massacre was a bestowal to their leaders, The Legion of Zeraze. Trepidation lingered discreetly at the Baffometi's side, for they would show no weakness to the surreal reality of Minotauri's vigor, and alas, still remained cautious of their actions.
Alike with the primitive bulls, Nagoth grew weary of the wicked demoness. Unbeknownst to him, an onslaught could occur at a moment's notice without prediction. Remaining distant from her realm, she diverged from her sisters' retaliation, for her stance remained low and uncultured. A flame kindled within him, burning from the pleasure he received, excitement dwindling within the core of his being from such a noble fight they'd soon possess. He'd see to his triumph, expecting a superior outcome within his delicious corner. But it wasn't optimism which enabled his tenacious demeanor, only the temperament of his own animosity boiling from within. An undeniable hunger for disaster that allowed him to remain capable of ruining every potential outcome she'd attempt to retain. The succubus before him reigned of superiority in the likeness of her mother and yet, there lacked barren appeal to her appearance. Spite was written across her form, from the bridges of her piercing horns to the base of sharp claws, his expectations were beginning to lean into uncertainty. Though Nagoth remained vigilant and he saw to an opening, for the gorgeous yet deceitful creature refused to execute the first move. With little hesitation, he took stride within his action and readied his weapon, charging at the smaller demoness who was half his size. Though he lacked understanding of her response, having little to no time to calculate or prepare for such interaction. Impulsive actions were taken as that spear lingered at his side, ready to strike her down and apprehend her body only to present her sisters with his victory.
One abrupt strike would achieve his ever so distant desires. Alas, the world surrounding him reduced to a halt for the demoness overwhelmed expectation. Swift to relocate a distance away, those wings thrust her into the air at speeds unforeseen by Nagoth before. Unlike her sisters, her abilities already exceeded promise as she grew agile and nimble within the blink of crimson eyes. That shaft he held so valiantly swung, yet the edge of its piercing crown failed to meet with her flesh, cutting the most insignificant strand of her blackened hair as it whisked away from the gust of her wings. Regardless of such a distasteful miscalculation, he found solace in awaiting her next move with defensive form. The Baffometi lacked the dexterity to the degree of the feisty creature he sought to defeat. The igneous female before him lacked his strength just as he had with her agility, yet by the numbers their war would wage a hefty fight. Nagoth sought to deflect her, expecting that of fire or an irrational move of misunderstanding as he had with previous succubi as well. Yet, it was clear she was made aware of her own actions and he could feel the frustrations already boiling from within. Anger solved nothing, yet his irrefutable rage was unable to be prevented. In over his head, he knew to remain stagnant, as he sought to pay attention to her next move within only a moment's notice.
Despite her aerial shift, Nagoth could only regret his choices, as the hilt of his spear was upon its way to deflect. Yet time was not on his side. Belated within his defenses, he watched her body turn as the piercing blade of her tail traced drastically across his furred chest. Pain similar to an arrow strike, he growled fiercely from the bold move, an echo of his vociferous tone eluding within the vicinity. Furthest from a battle cry, it was deemed his frustrations were clear as the lava falls nearest them. Needless to say, he'd been used to this agony, often thriving off the addictive conflict causing him to burn even brighter than before. From such pain, he witnessed the bloodied tail before him just the same as the spurts of maroon in which she caused. A burning delicacy that only fed his fire, yet he was deemed to fall to her demise if only for a moment. As the igneous creature caused a storm of wind to cascade upon him, he was left within a vulnerable state, eyes closing temporarily to adhere to protection.
Regaining vision once more, his responses remained lethargic as he noticed her face enclose within distance only to betray that action and rush back. As Nagoth gripped his spear, he slammed the base within the ground, yet the rocks faltered, lacking the ability to maintain stability. As if almost instantly, the demoness's brash nails dug into his chest, irritating the already damaged flesh beneath his fur. What scars once remained healed were soon torn open by the sheer brutality of bladed talons. Hooking into the depths of his flesh, those teeth of his gritted, expressing another cry from utter torment. Yet, his voice hardly had time to speak as she propelled her body back with a forceful push of Nagoth's body sending him plunging to the rocks further behind him, spear still in hand. The size of his body was far greater than hers yet had been dropped effortlessly to the jagged stones that mauled his back. True anguish erupted from his spine, shaken only briefly down to his hooves, yet these frustrations continued to provide staggering vitality which rushed through him as adrenaline would. For Nagoth had not fallen without reason, as he took note of the demoness's ascend once more to the skies.
Truth be told, she could have vanished, left him there to struggle without cause, yet she remained within his presence ready to finish him off. Predictable, as any demon would rather destroy the creatures which challenged them, but it seemed that the igneous woman was assuming far less of him. Far from finished, Nagoth took clear notice of her stance from his grounded area, already gathering himself to his senses once more. Pushing to his feet, he felt the irrational sense of recognition within the air, eyes never falling from the merciless beauty in the sky. For her entirety materialized before him as he stood upon his hooves once more, using what he could of his metallic weapon to hoist him up. Despite his misery, a fight would never cease to exist until at least one of them fell. Nagoth watched in speculation as her stance wasn't deemed familiar, but the soul action of her essential being. While the masses could have been entranced by her beauty, Nagoth sought nothing more than his opportunity before him.
Beaten, bruised and bleeding, backing down was far from an option. It was the simplistic spark to her lips as an inferno of magic erupted gradually in comparison to her sisters and that which he took notice of. This deed was by far the most unexpected and yet conventional within his knowledge. Distraction had taken to the igneous demoness, for her jeweled gaze drifted from his own, inattentive to his own actions likely expecting nothing but acceptance from him. With valiant action, his stance altered as he gripped the piercing blade within his grip and braced for ascension. Just as he accomplished with the others, he felt the smuggest expression boast to his face, firmly locking onto the target above. Without further anticipation, the demon leaned back, arm following suit as he gripped the spear tightly before he pressed the entirety of his body forward and thrust the spear directly for the succubus while distractions had taken hold of her...
-
Loneliness. Defined by the very essence of that internal void which tore him apart from the inside out. A pain uncalled for, but one he dealt with throughout his life. What a wicked sense of fate, but perhaps through irony and his own sick sense of consciousness, well aware of the deeds over pressing years, he deserved it. However, consequences weren't necessarily inaccurate after all. Karma surely had it out for him, but it wasn't as though he attempted any less to adhere to any form of benevolence. It wasn't uncommon for Mark to stray from what so called 'good' was left in this world. Sinister acts were of his own pleasure. As it were, he lived by his own rules as most billionaires did, without worrying about the law shadowing his every move. If anyone were to play by rules, the law would follow in suit of his own. But throughout his life of testing the boundaries of what he could get away with and the addiction that erupted with breaking the norm, there was hardly a soul which remained by his side. Both parents entirely torn from the picture, hardly a friend in sight and no romantic partner to assist with his desires; desperation was the only thing that catered to his emotional state. It wasn't only a physical obsession, but one that would nag him on through emotional and mental satisfaction.
Several nights throughout the week were taken away from his daily activities to spend an evening at what he deemed to be the perfect scouting location. There were often prying eyes upon him when it came to his day to day life, but what remained behind closed doors of such an elaborate location had him under lack of judgment. Regardless of his nature, it wasn't as if Mark had been known to the public anyway. His wealthy status remained silenced unless one lived within his gated neighbourhood. It wasn't often he took the time to speak with anyone nearby or get to know those surrounding him who clearly had their own set of issues lingering around. There had never been a time where he kept his life more personal, pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist – and they never had to know what was going on with him. As great as fame and fortune were and as curious as they dwindled hand in hand, it so happened that he found no significance in tending to the world knowing of his existence. Whoever he brought into his circle mattered the most, not random passerby's that pretended to know him from an article they once read about some heroics or monstrosities he'd accomplished in his life. That was why he kept his life one big secret, away from his parents and the rest of the world.
A brothel wasn't the first place he thought to tend to though and paying for a one night stand wasn't his forte. Yet, there Mark was with a scotch on the rocks gripped by rough fingers, lips having hardly tended to the quality tasting drink given his true lack of interest. Alcohol wasn't of the essence, it was never worth his time or money but there was always a plan in mind no matter where he went. Everything he did was with reason, especially tonight. There had been a peculiar pique of his interest, eyes allured by the sight of another man whom was quite the opposite of his own type. There was a personal admittance that he often fancied short, slim and feminine males, but it seemed that this particular man had countered several of those claims. Or, perhaps Mark just didn't find it in him to care anymore as desperation had been on the line, but there was something special about this one. But what was it? That was a question of the ages, it seemed.
Throughout the nights he'd been there, he observed the younger man from afar, looking – but far from touching. Hands to himself and his drink that lips hardly touched, his addiction continued to grow over the following days to come. Not once had he left with another man or woman at his side, let alone accompanied at all. In fact, he'd been alone the entire time, declining any potential employees that happened to approach him and sell themselves with words or movements. There were claims of him in search of the perfect one, scouting for such a desired amount of time that he knew would raise questions. However, having an acquired sense of taste didn't necessarily help – and he wasn't only searching for what he deemed to be a one night stand, no. If there was one thing he so desired, it was to latch a collar onto the neck of one victim and snag the leash with his rough, demanding hands and force whomever it may have been straight to their knees. A pet of his own. What a luxury...
Time ticked by at what felt like an endless rate, a loop of eternity as he glanced at his phone to find the hour of midnight forever approaching. The window of opportunity never seeming to open and alas, his exhaustion had hindered him rather useless. As he pressed that drink to his lips, hardly taking a sip in the least as he despised the taste and yet the unexpected occurred. Lo and behold, his expectations were torn from the floor beneath his feet as he was gifted with the sight of his victim entirely unaccompanied. Alone, just the same as Mark was. Knowingly, he was encouraged by that statement, finding it oddly comforting in the similarities, even if it was common practice. Standing from his seat and leaving the glass alone, he slowly made his way toward the lonesome soul. Adjusting the collar of his leather jacket, he then cleared his throat as he stood before the shorter man before him.
Those sharp, dark eyes of his lingered, attached to the beautiful face of what he deemed to be elegant, already wishing he could wrap his hand around that neck and pull that face closer just to taste those delightful lips. Restraining himself on such ordeals, he straightened his body showing signs of lingering dominance upon that serious face. There was hardly a questionable essence to linger upon his strong form, clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. In a manner of speaking, he questioned whether or not the other man knew if he'd been here several times over, never purchasing anyone that seemingly passed him by. "Name?" Entranced by those eyes, that was the one wish he so longed to be answered. Clearly in fascination of the one before him, but thirsty for the passion which drove him. Tonight would be the last night that his prey would retain and occupation in such unnecessary quarters... he would be sure of it.
Loneliness. Defined by the very essence of that internal void which tore him apart from the inside out. A pain uncalled for, but one he dealt with throughout his life. What a wicked sense of fate, but perhaps through irony and his own sick sense of consciousness, well aware of the deeds over pressing years, he deserved it. However, consequences weren't necessarily inaccurate after all. Karma surely had it out for him, but it wasn't as though he attempted any less to adhere to any form of benevolence. It wasn't uncommon for Mark to stray from what so called 'good' was left in this world. Sinister acts were of his own pleasure. As it were, he lived by his own rules as most billionaires did, without worrying about the law shadowing his every move. If anyone were to play by rules, the law would follow in suit of his own. But throughout his life of testing the boundaries of what he could get away with and the addiction that erupted with breaking the norm, there was hardly a soul which remained by his side. Both parents entirely torn from the picture, hardly a friend in sight and no romantic partner to assist with his desires; desperation was the only thing that catered to his emotional state. It wasn't only a physical obsession, but one that would nag him on through emotional and mental satisfaction.
Several nights throughout the week were taken away from his daily activities to spend an evening at what he deemed to be the perfect scouting location. There were often prying eyes upon him when it came to his day to day life, but what remained behind closed doors of such an elaborate location had him under lack of judgment. Regardless of his nature, it wasn't as if Mark had been known to the public anyway. His wealthy status remained silenced unless one lived within his gated neighbourhood. It wasn't often he took the time to speak with anyone nearby or get to know those surrounding him who clearly had their own set of issues lingering around. There had never been a time where he kept his life more personal, pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist – and they never had to know what was going on with him. As great as fame and fortune were and as curious as they dwindled hand in hand, it so happened that he found no significance in tending to the world knowing of his existence. Whoever he brought into his circle mattered the most, not random passerby's that pretended to know him from an article they once read about some heroics or monstrosities he'd accomplished in his life. That was why he kept his life one big secret, away from his parents and the rest of the world.
A brothel wasn't the first place he thought to tend to though and paying for a one night stand wasn't his forte. Yet, there Mark was with a scotch on the rocks gripped by rough fingers, lips having hardly tended to the quality tasting drink given his true lack of interest. Alcohol wasn't of the essence, it was never worth his time or money but there was always a plan in mind no matter where he went. Everything he did was with reason, especially tonight. There had been a peculiar pique of his interest, eyes allured by the sight of another man whom was quite the opposite of his own type. There was a personal admittance that he often fancied short, slim and feminine males, but it seemed that this particular man had countered several of those claims. Or, perhaps Mark just didn't find it in him to care anymore as desperation had been on the line, but there was something special about this one. But what was it? That was a question of the ages, it seemed.
Throughout the nights he'd been there, he observed the younger man from afar, looking – but far from touching. Hands to himself and his drink that lips hardly touched, his addiction continued to grow over the following days to come. Not once had he left with another man or woman at his side, let alone accompanied at all. In fact, he'd been alone the entire time, declining any potential employees that happened to approach him and sell themselves with words or movements. There were claims of him in search of the perfect one, scouting for such a desired amount of time that he knew would raise questions. However, having an acquired sense of taste didn't necessarily help – and he wasn't only searching for what he deemed to be a one night stand, no. If there was one thing he so desired, it was to latch a collar onto the neck of one victim and snag the leash with his rough, demanding hands and force whomever it may have been straight to their knees. A pet of his own. What a luxury...
Time ticked by at what felt like an endless rate, a loop of eternity as he glanced at his phone to find the hour of midnight forever approaching. The window of opportunity never seeming to open and alas, his exhaustion had hindered him rather useless. As he pressed that drink to his lips, hardly taking a sip in the least as he despised the taste and yet the unexpected occurred. Lo and behold, his expectations were torn from the floor beneath his feet as he was gifted with the sight of his victim entirely unaccompanied. Alone, just the same as Mark was. Knowingly, he was encouraged by that statement, finding it oddly comforting in the similarities, even if it was common practice. Standing from his seat and leaving the glass alone, he slowly made his way toward the lonesome soul. Adjusting the collar of his leather jacket, he then cleared his throat as he stood before the shorter man before him.
Those sharp, dark eyes of his lingered, attached to the beautiful face of what he deemed to be elegant, already wishing he could wrap his hand around that neck and pull that face closer just to taste those delightful lips. Restraining himself on such ordeals, he straightened his body showing signs of lingering dominance upon that serious face. There was hardly a questionable essence to linger upon his strong form, clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. In a manner of speaking, he questioned whether or not the other man knew if he'd been here several times over, never purchasing anyone that seemingly passed him by. "Name?" Entranced by those eyes, that was the one wish he so longed to be answered. Clearly in fascination of the one before him, but thirsty for the passion which drove him. Tonight would be the last night that his prey would retain and occupation in such unnecessary quarters... he would be sure of it.
