Willing captives

Zayne stood cuffed, silent.

He hadn’t fought her touch, merely watched her fasten the metal around his wrists with his usual controlled calm. He could’ve stopped her, but didn’t.

Across from him, Sylus leaned back with a smirk as careless as ever, like he’d been waiting for this. And when she turned toward him with a second pair of cuffs, he didn’t hesitate.

“You’re enjoying this,” Zayne muttered.

“Only because you’re not,” Sylus replied.

She stepped between them, offering each of them a slight touch. “You didn’t make it easy,” she murmured. “But you both said yes.”

Sylus offered his wrists. Zayne said nothing, but didn’t look away.

She kissed one, then the other. First Zayne, then Sylus. Soft, certain. Not a question, a claim.

“You are both mine now.”

And neither of them moved.

Comments

I am your present

The room is warm, the air thick with candlelight and the faint trace of her perfume. The scent is something delicate, lingering—like jasmine after rain, like something meant to be remembered. He sits on the couch, his suit immaculate, posture relaxed but precise. The low glow of the lamps catches the sharp cut of his jaw, the composed stillness of his expression. His eyes—dark, unreadable—follow her with quiet certainty. Always watching. She stands before him, wrapped in the softest whisper of lingerie, satin ribbons hugging her curves. A bow sits tied around her waist, its message written in careful script: “I am your present.” A slow smile plays at her lips as she tilts her head, letting the anticipation stretch just a little longer. Then, her voice—low and smooth—breaks the hush. “I told you yesterday I had a present for you.” She watches the way his gaze lingers, not just on her skin but on the meaning behind her words. “Did you like it?” His reply is quiet, measured. No hesitation...

Tasting rights

The sun was just starting to set when they finished establishing their camp for the weekend. It was warm out, comfortable enough to take their time while preparing their meal. Lei was busy laying out some fruit, mostly strawberries, sorting them by color and softness. She ran her fingers lightly over each one before handing them to Xavier, who deposited them into a bowl. He kneeled quietly beside her, but close enough that the others wouldn’t forget who she had come with. Lassy crouched by the fire, stirring the lit coals with the end of a stick. Zayne hovered closely behind her. He was silent as usual, just adjusted the grill and stayed near, steady as he always was. She let the heat rise. Near the cooler, Sylus was picking through bottles of flavour-infused mead, humming and turning each one in his hand like he was selecting a vintage wine. “Cherry or strawberry?” he asked, holding up both bottles. His tone was light, but the glance he gave Zayne said he hadn’t forgotten who had got ...

“No Main” and the Illusion of Fairness in RP

In roleplay (RP) communities, especially those centered on romantic storytelling, there’s always this question of whether a love interest (LI) should have a “main MC,” or treat all interactions equally. It might seem like a stylistic choice at first, but it carries deeper emotional, creative, and social consequences. While a “no main” approach may seem fair in theory, I believe it’s more honest, and ultimately kinder, to acknowledge emotional resonance and personal bias. Rather than pretending neutrality exists, creators and players alike should strive for fairness through awareness, not through denial. One of the clearest benefits of having a main MC is narrative depth. When a writer consistently engages with the same person, chemistry grows, continuity strengthens, and emotional arcs feel earned instead of episodic. It allows the LI to craft posts with someone specific in mind, not just for content or visibility. This intimacy shifts writing from performance into connection. And emo...

Love and Deepspace Dreams

Search This Blog