Perfect
  • Reads 50,279
  • Votes 1,693
  • Parts 57
  • Time 6h 26m
  • Reads 50,279
  • Votes 1,693
  • Parts 57
  • Time 6h 26m
Ongoing, First published Feb 22, 2016
Mature
Reagan Wooden. 37, long chestnut hair, grey eyes, curvy; perfect in Norman's eyes. She was pretty, smart, adorable; everything he wanted in a Little. 

Reagan Wooden. Too old to think about relationships, long boring brown hair, grey lifeless eyes, fat; imperfection in her own eyes. Damaged, broken, hurt, abandoned; everything she didn't want to be. 

Why did Norman want her? 

(I am dedicating this story to InSearchOfFlames) :D
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Letters to Robin  by ezra_is_stressed
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In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris unexpectedly enters her life, offering her a chance to explore a world of dominance she never knew she needed. As Reagan delves into a journey of self-discovery and passion, she must confront her suppressed emotions surrounding her sister's passing and her growing dependence on Paris. Join Reagan on a gripping adventure of love, loss, and finding the strength to heal in the face of unimaginable pain. "Why not?" I whisper against his lips, I want him closer to my body, I want it so badly it's almost painful. The sensation spreads through me like a relentless throbbing, engulfing my entire body. Paris pulls away to look at me, and his eyes are darker, deeper. I swallow at the primal desire pouring from his stare, eyes widening when he wraps his hand around my neck, his thumb stroking as it bobs. Almost instinctively, I raise my hand and put it over his, making him squeeze tighter. Paris growls low in his throat, and I close my eyes, marveling at the way every single nerve ending lights up. "Why not?" I ask again, just wishing he'd close the space between us. Just wishing he'd touch me. "No. This is wrong and I'm sorry I let it get this far. I'm older than you, love. You're so fucking young. This is......no," "I'm twenty, not seventeen, and I don't care. It doesn't matter," it's the wrong thing to say because when I open my eyes, he's shaking his head, his eyes locked on the wall near my head with an unreadable expression on his face. He removes his hand from around my throat, and the other slides slowly up my side and grips my waist, putting me more firmly against the wall. "No, Reagan," he says through clenched teeth, turning around and going to his room. I flinch at the sound of his bedroom door closing.
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Letters to Robin

54 parts Complete Mature

In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris unexpectedly enters her life, offering her a chance to explore a world of dominance she never knew she needed. As Reagan delves into a journey of self-discovery and passion, she must confront her suppressed emotions surrounding her sister's passing and her growing dependence on Paris. Join Reagan on a gripping adventure of love, loss, and finding the strength to heal in the face of unimaginable pain. "Why not?" I whisper against his lips, I want him closer to my body, I want it so badly it's almost painful. The sensation spreads through me like a relentless throbbing, engulfing my entire body. Paris pulls away to look at me, and his eyes are darker, deeper. I swallow at the primal desire pouring from his stare, eyes widening when he wraps his hand around my neck, his thumb stroking as it bobs. Almost instinctively, I raise my hand and put it over his, making him squeeze tighter. Paris growls low in his throat, and I close my eyes, marveling at the way every single nerve ending lights up. "Why not?" I ask again, just wishing he'd close the space between us. Just wishing he'd touch me. "No. This is wrong and I'm sorry I let it get this far. I'm older than you, love. You're so fucking young. This is......no," "I'm twenty, not seventeen, and I don't care. It doesn't matter," it's the wrong thing to say because when I open my eyes, he's shaking his head, his eyes locked on the wall near my head with an unreadable expression on his face. He removes his hand from around my throat, and the other slides slowly up my side and grips my waist, putting me more firmly against the wall. "No, Reagan," he says through clenched teeth, turning around and going to his room. I flinch at the sound of his bedroom door closing.