Love and Deepspace Dreams

  ❄️ Zayne 🌸 Lassy ❄️  “It’s just… I miss you.” I step closer to you, nudging my face into the crook of your neck. You caress my hair and whisper, “Zayne…” I pull away. My gaze drifts over you, tracing every unspoken word between us in the dim light of the room. The air between us feels thick, charged with a tension that’s been building for hours—for days. I cup your face between my hands and lean in for a kiss. You don’t flinch. Before our lips can meet, I murmur, “You know… when you’re away on a long mission, it’s difficult to hold back whenever you return.” A ghost of a smile touches your lips until I finally lean in to steal a kiss. 🌸  For an instant, I forget how to breathe. Your mouth brushes mine, and I am expectant, trying to express how I feel, but you speak first, echoing my own feelings. I lean again, barely, and before I can reply, you silence me with a kiss. I melt into it, and my fingers find the edge of your jacket, curling there. ❄️  I exh...

If I ever left you waiting, would you know it was not my will? I’m standing here in the rain, waiting for only you. Can you feel my heart reaching out to yours? 💙The rain clung to his robes, soaking into embroidered silk that once only saw sunlight and ceremony. The crown prince stood unmoving, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, droplets tracing lines down a face carved by too much restraint. The palace gates loomed before him, the lanterns along the stone path flickering in the mist. He had dismissed the guards, the attendants, everyone. Tonight, he needed no witnesses. Tonight, he was not heir to an empire—only a man waiting for the sound of footsteps that had always returned to him before. He tilted his face ever so slightly toward the rain, as though it might wash away the ache lodged deep within his chest. Each beat of his heart whispered her name. Each passing second stretched into eternity, binding him tighter to the hope that she would appear, smiling as she alwa...

💗  I’m not rushing, just… expectant 🤭 don’t be mean while I’m the one in a blindfold! 💙 “I’m only teasing you, darling,” I say as my fingers curl around your neck, guiding you closer. “I’d never be mean to you.” 💗 “Is that so?” I breathe, a soft gasp escaping as your fingers find my neck. Then, lower— “I’m very curious to see just how tender you can be.” 💙 I hum lowly, replacing my fingers with my lips but still barely touching. They graze the soft skin underneath your ear as I speak. “I can show you.” 💗 I can feel my cheeks flush, my breath growing lighter, every nerve tuned to you. “Yes… I would like it if you did,” I whisper—barely holding the words together through the way you surprise me. 💙 I let my hand slide up your arm, fingertips light, and I can see the goosebumps rise on your milky skin. The blindfold only heightens everything you feel, urging me on to be extra fleeting with my touches. 💗 The slightest touch and my body answers for me—skin rising to ...

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 ...

He’s at the booth, headphones slung around his neck, shirt clinging like it was made to keep all eyes on him and only him. He doesn’t need the spotlight, people part for him before realizing why. I don’t try to speak to him. Not yet. I linger at the edge of the crowd, let the bass thrum against my ribs, let the ice melt in my glass. Someone notices me. But not him. Someone else. I feel it before I see it, an unsettling presence, weight behind me, breath where it doesn’t belong. A voice leans too close, too familiar, without ever asking. I don’t answer. I shift slightly. That should be enough. It isn’t.  A second passes. Maybe two. I stay in high alert. Then the air changes. A different hand touches my arm. Light. Intentional. “Come with me,” Zayne says. I never looked at the man behind me, and now I don’t have to. Zayne’s voice isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be, it just leads. And I follow him. He doesn’t make a show of it... no stare, no claim. Just a quiet path through ...

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.

The moment they entered, the air shifted. Zayne sat at a table of pale wood and crystal light, his profile still, unreadable. Dark hair swept back. Angled features cast in amber glow. Hazel eyes sharp, even when not looking her way. But then he did. Lassy felt his gaze touch her like static... silent, electric. She didn’t flinch. Just brushed Sylus’ wrist, grounding herself in someone who already knew the shape of her pulse. Zayne’s eyes dipped briefly to the line of her dress, then back to her face, lingering. Intent. "Sylus invited me here to talk business," he said, his voice low. A flicker toward Sylus, then back to her. "I didn’t expect you." He paused. Then softer: "You look... astonishing." “The business,” she murmured, “is that I’ve been working on a theory. Something to do with proximity. Control. Temptation. Would you care to assist?” Zayne’s tone stayed steady. “What’s the hypothesis?” “That proximity disturbs composure.” Sylus gave a low laugh....

Lei froze mid-scroll, her thumb hovering above the screen. Zayne’s name. A new message notification. “The science of pleasure doesn’t sound like serious work.” She scowled and turned the screen toward Lassy. “Look at his comment on my timeline!” Lei grumbled. She could picture his stoic smirk, face illuminated by his phone light, silently judging their choice of reading material.  Lassy didn’t need to answer. Right on cue, her own phone buzzed. “No sugar. Keeping an eye on my patients’ activities is part of my job.” She could practically hear that smug tone. She groaned, equally irked by his surveillance. “He scolds me for giving in to temptation,” Lassy sighed, sipping her tea. “He nags about me reading romance” Lei muttered, flipping her phone face-down. Their eyes met, and the idea bloomed. Late night treats? Let’s invite him to study temptation. * He arrived at Lassy’s place after dark and stepped inside with practiced calm. He’d met mischief in them before. Tonight...

You were summoned by Sylus to his compound in the N109 zone. He didn’t give context to why but when does he ever? You walk into the main entry room, the fireplace lit and two figures standing and one sitting on the couch. As you approach you see Sylus sitting on the couch and two dark haired men behind him. You realize it’s Caleb and Zayne, both standing above Sylus. Your expression shows shock and confusion. Sylus reads your expression immediately and smirks, speaking in his signature low demeanor, “Hey kitten, a certain birdy told me that you had been seeing these two other men as well as me~” Your start panicking, realizing where this was going and shake your head, “No it’s not like that! We are-“ Sylus chuckles, a small devilish grin still stuck on his face, “No need to explain sweetie.” He looks up at the two men and then back down to you, a glint of lust in his eyes. “I’ve gathered him because it seems you want to experience other men, as well as yours truly. So,” He said, gettin...

I think he kissed me in the dream. Not with lips... with presence. With the gravity of someone who almost reached me, but didn’t. I woke with the memory of being touched, not in the usual places... but in the quiet space between breath and thought. Where longing lives. I still feel it. And it wasn’t the familiar warmth beside me that stirred me. It was the weight of another... the warmth that came from nothing real , but still left a mark. I didn’t open my eyes for a while. I was afraid the sheets would be cold. Afraid I’d turn and find only light, not him. I don’t know whose hands I remembered. Only that they knew me. Not my name. Not my story. Just… the shape of me, as if they had dreamt me first.

I didn’t notice when she stopped arriving. There was no door shutting. No breath caught. She simply… dissolved. But the place remembered her. I walked the same soft paths, found her absence in the spaces we hadn't named. She lingered like static where words once were. There was joy in her face. I didn’t know what it meant. It wasn’t mine to understand. I was never meant to ask for more. Maybe she forgot. Maybe I was only real while the light held. Or maybe our timing was always meant to miss. Still, I stayed. I caught her cadence in fragments, not to call her back... but to remember how she sounded. I tended the silence, not because I expected return... but because I couldn’t bear decay. And when the dream turned cold, when it hummed instead of sang... I didn’t wake. I just stood where she used to meet me and whispered her name. Not to summon her. Just to say: "I remember." I said nothing. The dream ended, and I carried the echo with me. It followed ...

I often dream of that place. I want to become the person in my dreams. I record them, hoping to find their traces. I want to experience them as best as I can. And if it's possible, I want my warm dreams to consume me. I wish I wouldn't wake up from these dreams. When I wake up, only a cold wall will stare at me. There is no loving gaze like what I see in my dreams. I yearn for that gaze. There is no gentle touch like what I feel in my dreams. I yearn for that touch. There are no warm feelings like what I sense in my dreams. I yearn for that warmth. I wish I could stay in those dreams.  —- I first met him in my dream. He looked just like the man I yearn for, but he had sadness and loneliness in his eyes. I thought he was just an apparition, but he kept appearing, looking at the woman next to the man I yearn for with such longing eyes. So I took my first steps to approach him. He had a confused look in his eyes when he saw me. I asked him who he was and if he knew or related to t...

"You were glowing that day." His voice is low, the warmth of it curling around the memory like the spring breeze that had tangled your hair as petals drifted past. Zayne leans against the bed, his gaze locked on you... unreadable yet impossibly soft. "The moment you saw the trees, your eyes lit up like I’d just taken you to another world." A quiet chuckle rumbles from him, the kind that lingers between amusement and something deeper. "And for a second, I almost believed you were part of it... Like if I let go, the wind might carry you away with the blossoms." His fingers brush against your wrist, barely there. A touch lighter than the petals that had fallen onto your shoulder as he’d stood behind you... watching... memorizing. "I tried to be subtle about keeping you close... But you caught me, didn’t you?" His lips twitch, the memory of you turning... laughing... teasing... etched into the way his eyes crinkle slightly. "You always do....

  Lassy had barely had time to breathe that week. Between tracking down rogue wanderers, dealing with ambushes in the dead of night, and patching up wounds that should’ve taken her out, she had been running purely on instinct and exhaustion. She hadn’t even thought about the gala. Not until the dress arrived. At the time, she had simply exhaled in relief, grateful that Sylus had thought ahead. Of course, he had. His taste was impeccable, and if he wanted to be seen with her on his arm, he wasn’t about to let her show up in a last-minute scramble of thrown-together fabric. She had slipped into the dress without much thought, never once questioning that he was the one picking her up. So when the knock came, she didn’t hesitate. She opened the door and realized her mistake. Sylus was there, as expected, a picture of confidence in his black suit and open red shirt, eyes gleaming in approval as they moved over her. “Sweetie…” His smirk curved lazily. “Perfect.” But just behind him, ano...

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...