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  1. Today
  2. *her patient thumb twiddling off to the side is paying off!*
  3. When the magic finally recedes, it doesn’t leave emptiness, it leaves afterlight. We lie tangled, barely breathing, our bodies humming like vessels too full to still. Sweat cools slowly on my skin, and where our chests touch, I feel not just heartbeat, but resonance. Something new hums inside us, like a chord struck too deep to fade. The runes have gone quiet. They no longer glow, but they have changed, melted, rearranged themselves into a symbol that wasn’t there before. Neither of us recognizes it, and yet… we know it. It’s us. It is our bond. It is not a word, nor a name. It is a mark, burned not into our skin, but into our existence.
  4. We are past words now, past movement. Even our bodies, still joined, have quieted into a rhythm too slow for lovers and too steady for ritual. We are not fucking, we are fused. Every shift of my hips sends a ripple of pleasure into his spine, and back into mine. Every thought curls into sensation, every desire becomes action without action. We are feeling each other’s need in real time and feeding it. It begins again with his mind brushing mine like silk against fevered skin. A thought, barely formed: her mouth, and instantly I feel it, his memory of it, twisted into new fantasy. My mouth on his chest, warm and wet, my tongue tracing the
  5. I shift just slightly, just enough to tighten the seal of our bodies again. He’s still inside me, impossibly hard still, but there’s no friction now, no urgency. There is only pressure, presence, the kind of closeness that makes the world outside the sanctum feel irrelevant. His breath hitches when I move. I feel it in my own chest and I smile. You felt that, I think, not even intending to speak, just knowing the bond will carry it. His answer isn't a thought. It's a feeling. A slow wave of molten pleasure, like fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh. But his hands haven’t moved. I gasp. My back arches and my body clenches around
  6. Still want partners for something like this, I only have a couple of scenes going and I'd really like at least maybe one more!
  7. I’m still on him. His hands are cradling the curve of my back, thumbs tracing light circles at the base of my spine. Our bodies are slick where we joined… where we are still joined, still connected, but neither of us moves. We lie in a pocket of silence that feels bigger than the sanctum, a pause suspended in the aftermath of something so large, it can’t be named. My breathing is slowing, but I can feel his breath, too, not on my skin, but inside me. It’s not metaphor anymore. He’s in me… thought, sensation, weightless impressions moving beneath the surface of my mind like fingers drifting across silk. There’s no boundary. My own thought
  8. WickedCadrach is in my experience one of the best roleplay partners in the whole site. Her replies are always full of detail, and eroticism, able to steer the plot at hand in the right direction and a delight to read. Her creativity and her ability to maintain and increase sexual tension are second to none. Despite clearly being busy, outside of our roleplays, she has shown herself to be kind, comminicative, clear on her needs and expectations and patient when awaiting for replies. There's never a dull moment when she is around! 5 out of 5!
  9. It doesn’t stop. The magic doesn’t peak and fade, like I was taught. It builds, and builds, and builds. We are joined, physically, completely, and yet the leyline’s current does not quiet. It floods through me in waves, not unlike pleasure, not unlike pain. It’s raw and primal and infinite. It doesn’t just touch us, it reworks us. I feel it in my marrow, in the smallest pulses behind my eyes. I feel it in the place where he fills me and the way my body grips him in return, tight, involuntary, needing. I gasp into his shoulder, nails curling against the sculpted plane of his back. His skin is slick, not with sweat, but with light, th
  10. His skin is fire beneath my palm… not heat, exactly, but presence. It is like touching something forged, something meant to be. My hand is still on his chest, right over the sigil carved into his flesh years before I knew his name. I can feel his pulse under it, steady, reluctant, but willing. The magic wants more. It pulses around us, through us. The runes on the floor are no longer humming, they are thrumming, impatient. The walls of the sanctum breathe with light, like a great lung has filled and now waits for release. The air shivers, and so do I. We’ve crossed the first veil, mind to mind, memory to memory, but the ritual is in
  11. Jessie Ray

    Jessie Ray

    Name: Jessie Ray Age: 23 Gender/Sex: Male(Femboy) Sexual orientation: Pan Kinks/Fetishes: Lots(nos are bathroom stuff, ADBL And anything Illegal) Monsters are fine too Personality and Interests: A Cheeky Guy that Loves Getting dressed up and being cute One moment he can look like your average guy and the next he's a slut ready for anything~! Appearance: Image Above Bio (as your character recalls): I'm Jessie Ray I was a Member of a royal family before all this but now I'm just your average guy, well mostly~ Just an office worker by day and entertainer by night~ pretty fun life I lived Well until I woke up he
  12. I'm here for a good time and to play out the life of my character What I have selected it all that I need as limits. If you disregard those limits I'll just no longer respond to you and depending on how severe I'll even report. You have been warned! ^~^
  13. ((It's alright sweetie and of course I'm still willing to roleplay. I am very patient so take your time.))
  14. Gonna post soon, just been having keyboard problems
  15. It starts in the fingertips… her hand on my chest, motionless, skin to skin, and yet I feel more than contact. I feel entry. Not intrusion, this is not a forceful thing. The old magic was made for two, it knows how to slip between barriers. It tastes of breath and memory, of open doors long closed. I feel her curiosity first, cool and clean, like mountain air. She is tasting me the way I taste her, each of us unraveling threads we were trained to keep wound tight. Her thoughts aren’t clear, not exactly, not words, more like flashes, sensations. The feeling of her father’s gloves when he placed the binding medallion around her neck as a g
  16. Was something happening? They seemed to be getting a little more excited, but were they going to do it there, or try to sneak away? It made the question of whether or not to undress more all the more difficult. Of course there was nothing wrong with moving around half naked, or completely naked. But carrying her clothes around would be a pain and she could not be certain no one would steal some or all of it, if she just left it there. What to do? What to do? If they moved, Ryoko could only hope they stayed in sight. Being invited to join in would be great sure, but that was likely too much to expect. She could only hope one or both w
  17. She is smaller than I imagined. They said she would be delicate, a pale flame… winter-born. I expected fragility, a wisp of breath that might vanish beneath my hands. But she does not feel fragile, not here, not now. She walks toward me like she knows exactly how close she’s allowed to come before the ritual truly begins and no closer. Her steps are precise. Her skin glows under the sigil-light. Her white hair is coiled in braids that gleam like silver-threaded snow, and she looks at me with eyes too steady for someone about to let a stranger press against every part of her. But I know the still ones are the ones who feel the most.
  18. They say the magic won’t work if the skin doesn’t touch. That’s the first rule of the ritual, that the bodies must touch, must press, must merge in motion and breath, or the old powers won’t come. There can be no silk between them, no armor, not even linen. I was told this at thirteen, when they first told me what I was, that I’d been bred for a purpose. I was unlike anyone else. "You are of the Pale Line," they said, tracing the veins at my wrist like they could see the starlight in me. "When the time comes, your body will be called. You will answer. You will not be alone." I didn't think they meant him. He stands at the
  19. Not guilty, the Temp staff on rotation are honestly my go to. The next poster Dedicates atleast one day of the week to some Rest and Relaxation therapy.
  20. Yesterday
  21. Not guilty. My job is boringly local. The next person has a hairdresser they can't live without.
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