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Paint

Velvet Chains: Painted by His Touch

She came to Florence to paint her way out of grief. He offered her a contract to keep emotions out. But what begins as a deal built on control soon becomes a war of silence, obsession—and surrender. Aanya Roy, an Indian artist haunted by loss, arrives in Florence with a sketchbook and a name whispered in art circles. She doesn't paint to be seen. She paints because it’s the only way she feels alive. Leonhart Moretti is a billionaire forged by tragedy. Cold. Brilliant. Untouchable. Women are part of a system: contracts, limits, rules. No emotion. No deviation. Until her. When Aanya uploads a blank canvas as a response to his challenge, it isn't defiance—it's art. It's her refusal to be tamed. Intrigued beyond reason, Leonhart offers her a 90-day contract: complete creative freedom in his studio. But beneath the surface lies another game—one of dominance, surrender, and unraveling control. In a city that worships beauty and secrets, how far can two broken souls go before the lines between art and desire, power and love, are blurred beyond recognition? R18 (Explicit Content) Contains mature themes including psychological tension, erotic content, dominance/submission, and emotional trauma. Reader discretion advised. Author's Note: This is not just a billionaire romance. This is about silence as power. Touch as art. And what happens when control becomes devotion. For readers who love slow-burn tension, flawed but brilliant leads, and emotionally layered storytelling—welcome to Florence.
Aria_Devereaux · 10.3K Views

Elves Are Sleeping Beauties

I like text-to-speech so I'm giving a shot at present tense second person writing to lean into a listener's POV. Enjoy! I use Sonia en-GB for the narrator at 1.2 or 1.5 times speed. Might want to read this part, I kind of left it out the story by making it the synopsis by accident lol. Tavern doors never close on the festive dockside. Traders, settlers, wanderers, and outlaws gather, drawn by the excitement of the New World. The air smells of smoke, salt and sweat, sails catch wind beside steam locomotives' whistles and pistons, each vessel either arriving with strange goods and stranger tales or departing with the thunderous farewells. You step aboard one of them, another spirited adventurer in the crowd, and spend months at sea from docks to coasts, continents to isles, to steam across a windless sea under an endless night sky. When sunlight hits your deck once more, it reveals the New World's waters, like pouring paint into the void. You see the distant sails in the harbour of a forested continent and cheer with the exclamations of waking passengers upon seeing the continent, name pending, no sovereigns and no laws. The landing of all those visiting from the Old World, a boiling pot of all kinds of cultures with each person's distinct flavours of friends, enemies, grudges and dreams. Without hesitation you leave it behind and vanish into the forest, wanting simply to dedicate your life to exploring the interior of the continent. How surprising is it when you found that the elves are all sleeping beauties! Capture them all! Hahahahahahahaha!
lostatlas · 6.7K Views
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