Texting Rp Novels & Stories

Eliot Hale had it all: grades, charm, and an enviable future. The whole campus admired his girlfriend. His life was picturesque...Until an anonymous message snatched it all away. One party. One betrayal. One moment that saw the shattering of his glass-laden golden world. Eliot, now the joke of the university, has been stripped of any last semblance of support, in whispers mocking him, asking his name, and wondering in his moment of awe, "Who do I trust when those I loved the most were the first to destroy me?" And just as Eliot spirals into isolated boredom, a stranger people would wish they had in their lives, begins texting him. What starts off as cautious curiosity soon evolves into an intimate, heartfelt bond- the anonymous presence sees into him, all the pain he hides beneath the surface; making him feel something for the very first time in his life. But upon finding out who actually was behind the screen… everything was changed forever. The boy who ruined him might be the only one who really understands him. The one he was raised to hate might be the one to really love him. And that forbidden love? That just might be the one thing that could save them both.

Zara Torres has three rules at Harlow University: no athletic dorm drama, no boring elective classes, and absolutely, under no circumstances, no hockey players. She's broken all three before October. Now she's stuck writing a semester-long profile on Declan Mercer — starting center, criminally good at skating backward, and the most inconveniently interesting person she's met since arriving at Harlow. He's easygoing where she's structured, instinctive where she's methodical, and somehow always exactly where she isn't expecting him to be. Which, as it turns out, is a problem. Zara knows how to land on her feet. She's been doing it since the fall that broke her wrist and her confidence in one clean moment two years ago. She doesn't need a hockey player dissecting her skating footage at midnight or texting her things that are too honest for seven AM. She definitely doesn't need him to be right. But just as something real starts forming between them — something unscripted, something she didn't prepare for — a single email pulls the assignment and threatens to take everything with it. Some edges are sharper than they look. And some falls are worth the landing.

My lawyer husband, Evan Henderson, has sued me for the eighth time over the custody of our pet dog. During the trial, Evan finally yields to me by texting me on the phone. "You can name any condition you want as long as you agree to give the dog to Minnie." Evan used to be a fair and just person. After all, he stood by and watched my dad get framed and thrown into prison just to avoid any suspicion of favoritism. To think that he has gone ahead and fabricated up to 26 pieces of evidence just so he can help Minerva Henderson steal the custody of our pet dog… Not only has he fabricated the dog's birth certificate, but he's also forged the purchasing history of the dog. I refuse to let my dog go, which is why I've argued with him about this matter seven times. But what stuns everyone is the fact that I choose not to make a statement. "I'm not going to fight for custody anymore." After that, I send Evan a text. "My only condition is that you reopen my dad's financial crime case for me." Evan heaves a sigh of relief from the plaintiff's podium. But what he doesn't know is that there's a divorce agreement included in the pile of custody-transfer paperwork he signed earlier.

Th‍e⁠ir marriage was a transaction.⁠ Th‍eir war was p‍e‌rsonal. T⁠hei‌r pas‌sion was unforeseen. Elara Vega is an⁠ artist whose life i‌s p‌ainted in bold⁠, rebellio‌us colors. When a devastating betrayal by he‌r‍ own family threa‍tens to de⁠stroy everything‍ her⁠ father built, she is‌ given a brut⁠al ch‍oice: sell her‌ freedom to save his le⁠gacy. ⁠Kaelan Sterling is a billionaire fortress of ice and ambit‍ion. To secu⁠re a cruc‌ial merger and shield his empire from a l‌urking threat, he needs‍ one thing: the per⁠fect, unto⁠uchable wife. He doesn't want lo‌ve; he wants a business‍ pa‍rtner. Bound by a cold, clinical contract, they a⁠re‌ enemies from‍ the start. He sees her as a chaotic liability. She sees him as a heartless tycoon. Their for‌ced proximity is a battle of‌ will‍s, fi⁠lled⁠ with sha‌rp word‌s and eve‌n sharper attra‍ction. Bu‍t in t‍he gilded cag⁠es of penthouses⁠ a‌nd high‌-society ga‍la⁠s, a dangerou‍s fire ignites. As a c‍ommon en‍emy closes in, their fa⁠ke r⁠elationship begins to feel terrifyingly real. The lines between strategy and surrender b‍lur. But when hi‍dden truths surface and old‍ wounds are ripped open, their fragile trus⁠t shatt⁠ers. Now, El⁠ara must‌ decide if the man behind th‍e fortune‌ i‍s worth the ultimate risk, and Kaelan must learn that some bonds are too powerful to be broken-even by a billion-dollar contract.

After our company loses the eight-million-dollar deal, my girlfriend, Lindsey Corwell, gets mad at me for the first time ever. She goes as far as to heavily insult me in front of everyone in the company. Once we get home at night, she retains her professionalism. "There's no such thing as a romantic relationship between us when it comes to work. The fact that you screwed up still stands. This is your fault." Meanwhile, Lindsey's junior, Gerald Whitaker, sends me an apologetic text. "This is all my fault, Julian. I'm the one who screwed up the deal. Lindsey bought me a cupcake to comfort me. It's pretty delicious. Let me buy you a cupcake as well." The next morning, Lindsey chucks the breakfast I've made for her into the trash can without hesitation. "I told you many times that I don't eat breakfast!" At work, my colleague, Joshua Miller, suddenly approaches me and begins sharing gossip with me. "The newbie really is fearless, eh? He actually had the guts to start a conversation with Ms. Corwell and even bought her breakfast! Guess what happened after that? Not only did she eat it, but she also claimed that it was tasty!" Oh, so that's how it goes, huh? Whatever. Anyway, the woman who keeps texting me is still trying to get me to switch lovers. "If worse comes to worst, I don't mind being a side chick! C'mon, give me a try!" I purse my lips in return. "It's fine. You shall be my official girlfriend now."

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

Austin comes from a respected family, he has good grades, he is popular and attractive, and the hottest girl in college is his girlfriend. In a sense, he had it all. Until he got a mysterious text message one day. "Your girlfriend is cheating on you." He ignored it since and assumed it was a prank text message. But this number sent him more messages. One of yem was 'If you think I'm lying, you can come to the football team's party tonight." Even though he didn't believe the message, he went to the party. The house was full of people, and he struggled to find his girlfriend among them. He accidentally interrupted several couples kissing passionately. As he was feeling screwed, he pushed open a bedroom door and he found a guy and woman making out on the bed, and the woman was Angi his girlfriend. Austin angrily pulled the man off her and saw the guy's face he is the captain of the football team, the most popular guy in college. His nemesis. He d From that day on his life became a mess. What he didn't expect was that the mysterious person texting him became the only one that he could talk to. However, they never answered his calls and never told me who they were One day, unwilling to give up, he called this number again, and suddenly, a phone rang. The voice was very familiar. Austin was sure he knew that voice The person on the other end of the line said only one sentences"It is you that I have always wanted." What did he mean by that. Was Angi set up?

The day before the holiday, I gave the household staff the week off. Agnes was still in the kitchen before she left, packing desserts into a bag while talking to herself with a smile. "Miss Vanessa finally got what she wanted this time. Mr. Moretti even booked that seaside villa in Amalfi." I was texting Vanessa, asking her to come over later to try on the bridesmaid dress. Without thinking much of it, I asked, "Got what?" "The wedding," Agnes said naturally. "Isn't Mr. Moretti taking Miss Vanessa to Italy?" My fingers froze above the screen. Two seconds passed before I looked up at her. "Whose wedding?" The smile on Agnes's face slowly froze. She looked at me as if she had only just realized something was wrong. "You... didn't know?" For a moment, I almost laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Agnes, Luca and I signed the family marriage registry three years ago. Next week is only supposed to be the ceremony." The kitchen fell silent. Agnes opened her mouth, embarrassment spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I thought you knew." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "A while ago, when I was cleaning the study, I heard Mr. Moretti mention it to his lawyer. He said the marriage registry in your hands was never officially submitted to the family council." My heart sank. Three years ago, Luca had handed that document to me himself. He said the Moretti family was unstable, that we could not announce the marriage yet. Once he entered the inner circle of the Five Families, he would hold a proper wedding. So for all these years, I never pushed him. I even turned against the Castellano family for him. Thinking back now, maybe he had never planned to truly let me through the doors of the Moretti family in the first place.

I couldn’t cum ,not once in two years with him nor with someone. Then Sophie,my best friend….slid a card across the table. Dr. Vincent Kane; Specialist in women’s sexual dysfunction. The man who could fix what felt permanently broken. She didn’t mention he was her ex-husband Or that his “program” meant thirty locked days at his private estate. No sterile exam rooms, Just silk-draped suites, candlelit treatment spaces, and a discreet staff who vanished when he entered. In our first session he asked me to undress behind a screen and i did. When I stepped out in the thin robe, his gaze dragged down my body,slow, deliberate,before snapping back to my face. His throat worked. “Lie back,” he said, voice rougher than the day before. His gloved fingers parted with me for the exam. Clinical and professional until they lingered, circling my clit with the lightest pressure, testing responses I didn’t know I had. My hips jerked. A gasp tore from my throat. He froze, knuckles white on the table edge, breathing hard through his nose. He didn’t stop….Night after night the sessions grew bolder. His mouth replaced fingers, tongue stroking in slow, deliberate circles until my thighs shook and my back bowed off the massage table. When I finally shattered, clenching, crying out, soaking his chin, he pulled back, lips glistening, eyes black with something feral. He pinned my wrists above my head one evening, cock hard against my thigh through his trousers. “This is still therapy,” he growled, grinding once, twice. “Tell me to stop.” I arched into him instead, nails digging into his shoulders. My ex is threatening to leak photos, ruin us... Sophie keeps texting: How’s the retreat? He’s helping, right?

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.