The Writing Desk Novels & Stories

Syanja eventually made a choice regarding her life after attempting numerous jobs and different careers. She waited for a chance while writing novels. One day, she received an email from a sizable business located distant from her hometown. She quickly accepted their offer and signed the contract with them without any hesitation. She joined that organisation mostly because she wanted to advance her profession and it is the top corporation in the world for authors. Jeong Jung-Hoon, the CEO's younger son, noticed her assisting someone one day. Jung-Hoon was awestruck by her acts and beauty, and his affections for her gradually grew. He was supported in pursuing her by his siblings and friends. They get close and fall in love after a few dates, but Syanja's ex Hyung-Shi returns to her life. He visited her and made an effort to reunite them. Due to their respective occupations, Jung-Hoon was likewise quite busy at work and barely found time to spend with her. They took a step back. Rumors started to circulate. They began to lose faith in one another, went their separate ways, and concentrated on their occupations, but neither of them knew what fate desired. Their love wasn't over after that. They encountered each other again, this time with stronger souls and no love but anger. They had transformed and strengthened their character. They made each other regret everything they had done for one another this time. They made every effort to bring each other down, but it just brought them closer.

Mom cleared her throat and said, “I have an idea.” I frowned. “What are you talking about, Mom?” “I’m talking about I have an idea.” She stood up and leaned on her desk, saying, “We will hold the Queen’s Guard Tournament.” “I still don’t understand, mom.” “I propose a tournament with several tests, games, balls, bullfights, interviews, dates and parades. I suggest we go wild with different activities that guarantee the election of the new alpha kings.” “Okay… I’ll take the bait. Who will participate?” “Anyone who is an alpha or some equivalent to that. We put their names inside the sky crate so that destiny can choose the 20 lucky ones who will compete for the love of the future sovereign. The three winners will be crowned the alpha kings of the south, east and west. Obviously, the north is occupied by Alonso.” “And what will happen to Sokaris? He’s mine too, mom!” “I wouldn’t worry about him, Maddie. In my dreams, I saw him putting on a great show.” “What will happen if my other fated mates show up?” “Destiny will take care of it, Maddie. Your mates will be selected. But to win, we must give our enemies a mirage of hope that makes them believe they can govern.” “And in the end, they will be exposed to everyone, without us having to intervene,” Mom nodded, with a triumphant smile. I sighed. “If this is our best option, then let’s use the ball that is already being planned as the tournament’s opening event.” Mom nodded. Dad slapped his hands together and said, “Well… we have a tournament to plan and a lot of announcements to make. Let’s get started!” ________________ Reverse harem / 4 fated mates / Magic / Royal Lycan Family / Vampires

She didn't mean to moan when he pressed her against the stone wall, his hand between her thighs, his breath scorching against her ear. "You're soaking, little Omega," Damien growled. "Tell me-did you think of us when you touched yourself at night? Or did you cry and clench your legs shut like a good little liar?" She trembled and her body ached for more. Lucian's voice came next, rough and dark. "You ran from us. Left us hard and hungry. Do you know how close I came to tearing through that city just to feel your cunt grip my cock?" Her knees buckled, but Kael caught her, dragging her back into his chest with a growl. "You belong to us, Omega. Say it, or I'll bend you over this desk and make you remember with every inch." She gasped, lips parted, but her voice broke before the words came. "Say it," Damien snapped. "Say who owns this filthy little body." The mate bond snapped, it was wild and irresponsible. She burned for them, and ached for them. And when she ran, they hunted. Now they've found her again, and she was trembling, slick, lying to herself with every breath she takes. But there's no more mercy. She'll scream when they mark her. Shake when they knot her. Break when they bond her. "You were made for our cocks, little mate," Lucian whispers, licking her tears. "Now open your mouth and show us how sorry you are." This time, they don't make love. They destroy her and she begs for more.

The Filthiest Collection You'll Ever Read WARNING: 18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT They say some lines should never be crossed. This collection crosses every single one. Behind the altar, Father Michael discovers Sister Claire on her knees—but not in prayer. His fourteen-inch cock and her broken vows create the most sinful confession the church has ever witnessed. In the strip club's champagne room, ownership takes on new meaning when the boss claims his newest dancer in ways that blur every professional boundary. Money talks. His fifteen inches scream. The megachurch reverend with the monstrous sixteen-inch secret destroys his young secretary across his Bible-covered desk while his wife leads worship downstairs. Hypocrisy has never been so hard. Married bosses fuck their secretaries on desks still warm from morning meetings. Divorce lawyers claim vulnerable clients on the same couch where they signed papers. Addiction counselors enable relapses—the sexual kind. Therapists finally act on years of inappropriate desire when the final session becomes anything but professional. From nuns breaking vows to brides cheating the night before their weddings, from politicians risking everything to doctors violating every oath—these twenty stories explore the darkest desires we're told to suppress. Wedding rings stay on. Consequences are real. The sex is brutal, explicit, and described in devastating detail. Size matters—twelve to sixteen inches of it—and these encounters leave permanent marks on bodies and souls. No redemption. No excuses. No limits. Just raw, forbidden passion that destroys everything in its path. Are you brave enough to read what shouldn't be written?

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

After starting her new job as a front desk supervisor, Rosalyn Vargas felt like her life was finally getting back on track. Things were going well, now she could actually marry her fiancee Bryce Wagner. Most of the struggles she has had to endure were behind Bryce's reckless ways and for the past four months she really questioned her engagement with him, even considered leaving. Now it looks like things were turning around and they may get past everything. She was wrong. Bryce was still up to his reckless ways and creating more problems for Rosalyn still. That's when she met the Railroad Engineer, Chris Ortiz. He was older than her by twenty years, but from the moment she saw him, she knew she was going to sleep with this man. Never had she ever cheated on Bryce, though the same could not be said about him, but Chris caused something to change her ways and step into an affair with a married man. Chris Ortiz was a Railroad Engineer who had his fair share of women. He has been married to his wife for 30 years, but was not faithful the whole time. He was a pro at getting his way with women, but Rosalyn was different. In all his years never had any of them gotten him to feel anything else but lust for them, Rosalyn broke past his defenses and he actually fell in love with her. Their affair was never meant to be more than just that, yet Rosalyn and Chris fell in love with each other. But their love could never be, he was married and she was soon to be. Both in committed relationships with people they no longer loved, yet obligations makes them stay. This was a Train Wreck waiting to happen.

Lick, Dick, Cumshot Taboo: 5 Age-Gap MM Forbidden Romances- Ever fantasize about a battle-hardened Alpha King spotting your scent in the shadows, his gold-rimmed eyes promising to lick away your resistance, stretch your heat on his throbbing, knotted cock, and drown you in shame-soaked cumshots until you’re whimpering for his mark? Lick, Dick, Cumshot Taboo unleashes five mind-fucking MM age-gap obsessions where ancient, silver-maned Alphas groom, break, and rebuild their prey—turning forbidden shame into a soul-deep, pack-bound addiction. Feel the Lycan Daddy’s rough tongue tracing your spine post-shift, growling how he’ll own your hole forever while pounding you raw with animalistic fury, his hot, heavy loads marking you as his eternal property. The Bratva CEO mind-fucks his submissive intern with sloppy rimjobs under the boardroom desk, conditioning that tight pucker to crave his veiny, dominant thrusts and gushing, fertile releases. High-ranking professors lick secrets from trembling omegas before breeding them into mindless cumdump disciples. Step-dads gagging their step-sons on midnight meat, forging unbreakable pack bonds through filthy, primal worship. Rival Silver Fox Alphas swapping spit and seed, collapsing decades of territory war into knotting ecstasy. These Daddies don’t just fuck—they devour minds, wreck virgin holes, and flood souls with taboo nectar, leaving you psychologically chained, leaking, and loyal to the beast. Raw power imbalances. Psychological grooming into feral bliss. HEAs dripping with ownership and silver-furred dominance. Surrender to the lick. Worship the dick. Swallow the cumshot. Your taboo awakening starts now. 💦🥵🔥

She was his first light. He became her greatest shadow. She babysat him. And he fell in love. Years ago, 19 years old Olivia Wilde left behind a child, who loved her in silence, now she works for the man he's become. Fabian Stone is young, ruthless, unreadable and far too powerful. But buried beneath the cold exterior, is the same soul that once sketched her heart on torn paper and whispered promises he never got to keep. She shouldn't want him. He shouldn't still burn for her. But the past doesn't forget, and neither does he. ~~~ "Strip Olivia" he said, his voice dripping of command. I immediately obeyed, like I was programmed to follow all his instructions. My hand reached for my top and I slowly took it off staring him in the eyes. Next was my pants, then my bra, my breasts spilling from their confinement and I rubbed them, playing with my already hard nipples. His eyes were clouded with lust and something else I couldn't read. My hand reach for my panties, slowly taking it off, then tossing it where my other pile of clothing laid. I sat on the desk, legs spread, giving him a show of my already wet cunt. I heard him groan, a hot and sexy groan and I smirked, already proud of myself. I fingered myself, imagining it to be his long, thick hands, I close my eyes, reeling in the moment when his voice dripping command boomed, "Don't cum without me telling you to"

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?" "I'm getting divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?" "He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know." "I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?" "The hospital. Prenatal checkup." ... The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation. It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me. Elena, Donna of the Moretti family. Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation. Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive. But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest. By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him, I was already in New Zealand. The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti. He was the last person on earth to find out.

Everyone warned me never to fall for Dante Moretti. They said he was the ghost of the Velasco family—an underboss who ordered hits without blinking, his heart colder than the barrel of his gun. But when he bent me over that mahogany desk, his mouth against my ear commanding me to say his name, I was stupid enough to think that was possession. It took me an entire year to see the truth. The photographs locked in his study drawer were never of me. The woman in white waiting for him in the cathedral district on Sunday mornings was never me. The girl who took a bullet for him, the one he called his "salvation"—her name is Elena Abate. And Elena happens to be my stepmother's daughter. My father is trying to sell me to a half-dead Agosti heir for five hundred million to save the family. My stepmother is scheming to erase me from existence entirely. And the man I thought would burn this city to the ground for me? On the day I needed him most, he was lifting Elena up a flight of stairs, cradling her like something sacred. They all thought I was just a pawn to be moved around their chessboard. They were wrong. If Dante can't let go of his precious white moonlight, his "salvation," then I'll become someone else's "widow." If Elena believes she's already won this game, I'll let her watch from the front row as a woman with nothing left to lose burns it all down. My name is Serafina. Remember it. Because I am about to become the reckoning none of them saw coming.