ISO: Darker Plots (MxF, Dom/Sub, Master/Slave)

[freenational]

Hey.  So-
I've been role-playing on and off for over a year but have never really gotten around to writing up a request thread until now.  Just a heads up and a not-so-subtle attempt at an early excuse in case this one turns out god awful and I go back to lurking.  But I think it's taken me this long because I was horrible at thinking up and presenting an initial plot.   Not saying I'm good now but I couldn't have gotten any worse- so here we go! 

I'm looking to find two or three fun and friendly partners to try and drum up some trouble.  As my title suggests, I love playing male dominant roles against female subs.  But I don't mind playing against switch characters either.  I've dabbled with various relationship dynamics but always find myself drawn to this type of pairing.  I love plots involving seduction, corruption, violence, drugs, adultery, jealousy/a sense of ownership over another, exhibitionism/shameless public displays- pretty much anything that makes my heart race just a little bit faster. 

And while charming is what I strive to be, I can't say I'm particularly interested in playing a 'prince charming'.  My characters will have some alluring qualities but they'll almost certainly also have darker/nefarious sides to them as well.  I'd love to play against a character that has her own issues too.  The types of affairs I like to write involve flawed characters engaged in toxic and turbulent yet undeniably passionate relationships.  I enjoy writing as someone alluring and ambitious but a bit too impetuous for his own good, spiraling out of control while corrupting and seducing YC to drown with him.

We'd work well if
You can post at least once a week.
   -This one is pretty flexible as I completely understand that life happens and there are no guarantees.  I will never push or prod you for a response.  If I haven't heard from you in a while I'll just assume you lost your muse.  It happens!

You like to write in third person.
   -I like to write in third person so for consistency's sake, I'd prefer if you did as well.

You like to write at least a couple paragraphs per post.
   -Obviously I enjoy quality writing over quantity.  But I find it hard to work with anything less than two paragraphs.  Just my preference.

You are open to using PMs or threads to write.
   -I don't really like to carry my role-plays off site.  I find it easier to keep track of everything if I stick to PMs and threads.

You like to chat OOC.
   -Pretty flexible on this one too but I generally like to get to know my partners a little.  If you don't like to chat, that's totally fine.  But I find that communicating a little more really helps me get comfortable in writing with you.  So PM me!  Or I'll probably PM you!

Genres I enjoy but am not limited to are-
Slice of life/modern
Post apocalyptic/dystopian future
Sci-fi
Fantasy
Western
Period pieces

Lastly, I really think styles make good role-plays so-
I enjoy sharing writing samples as it'll let us decide whether we think we'd write well together instead of investing time into starting one up only to find out we don't.  It's pretty draining.
I'll probably browse your post history but if you don't have anything there it'd really help if you sent me a sample!

Writing samples
Here are a couple starters I dug up from past role-plays.

Brief background:  An aging man engages in a drunken hook-up while celebrating with friends.  He wakes up alone with no recollection of what the girl had looked like.  Later, he has dinner with his current girlfriend who decides to bring her daughter along for the first time, oblivious to the fact they'd already met the night before.

Sample 1

Jack awoke to a swelling heat against his leg. Intruding rays from the encroaching sun pierced his gaping window, warming his skin and exposing the glistening specks of dust that floated idly through his bedroom. A sharp inhale broke the stale silence and he licked his lips as he stirred from his drunken slumber. The taste of sex and alcohol lingered in his mouth as he sat up in his bed, pressing his index and thumb to the bridge of his nose. His dark, brown hair was tousled, with flecks of gray sprinkling the sides of his head and the stubble that shaded his cheeks. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching visibly as he tried to recall the events of the preceding night. His temples felt as if they’d been reattached to his skull by roofing nails, a painful reminder of his growing age. At thirty eight, Jack’s nights of hard drinking were far behind him. At least, they should have been.

From what he remembered, Jack and his friends had gathered to commemorate their buddy, Tom. Brave Tom was preparing to cast himself into the daunting clutches of marriage and the gang had assembled to give him a proper send off. Of the eight friends that had grown up together, Jack and Tom were the only unmarried men in the group. With Tom joining their ranks, Jack would now be the odd one out as the rest of the group talked family life, shared baby pictures, and discussed other equally nauseating subjects. The realization of it all began to depress him.

Tearing himself from his morbid reflection, he returned to the stifling aroma of sex and sweat that enveloped his bed. Prying his eyes open, he scanned his bedroom with a squinted gaze as he rose from the sunken mattress. A vacant indent was visible beside him and he was reminded why he had woken up naked. Jack concentrated on the latter part of the night, trying to remember the face that belonged to the delicate, slender figure he’d bent over the frame of his bed. He pictured her long, brown hair falling elegantly across her back. He recalled how soft it felt against his fingers as he gripped her, holding her tight as he drove her body into the headboard in front of them. Jack remembered the scent of perfume, mixed with sweat, and the arousal it had invoked in him. But he could not remember the face.

Apart from his bed, a quick scan of his room did not uncover any hints to the identity of the girl he'd bedded. Taking his phone from the night stand, he slid his finger across the glass screen. Jack squinted at the display, rubbing his left eye with his knuckle as he thumbed through his recent calls. There was no number he didn't recognize. She was a fleeting dream, but he couldn’t complain. She'd done him a courtesy and allowed their wistful encounter to end cleanly. That and the fact that although he wasn't married, he wasn't exactly single either. A notion that was stressed as his phone vibrated in his palm, a reminder of 'Dinner with Marie and Aubrey @ 7' plastered over his home screen.

He recalled Marie telling him about her teenage daughter, Aubrey. Jack had met Marie in the produce section of his grocery store. After a prolonged discussion on the health benefits of kale, Jack had asked her to dinner. They had connected well throughout the course of the date, which ironically, didn’t include kale. She was affectionate and generous, with a good sense of humor. But most of all, she was comfortable. A quality Jack began to feel he should be looking for in a relationship at his age. Marie’s decision to bring her daughter along tonight was a clear gesture of moving their relationship forward. Despite the pressure he felt to settle down, he found the prospect unnerving. He was never any good with kids.

Peering into his bathroom mirror, he was greeted with a fitting visual representation of how he was feeling. His eyes were dry and slightly red as he ran his fingers along his cheek, scraping at the rough stubble that masked the lower half of his face. Running his toothbrush under the sink, a darkened spot near his collarbone caught his eye. He leaned in to the mirror, tilting his head to examine the discoloration on his neck.

"Shit," Jack hissed, rubbing his neck as if the friction from his fingertip could somehow remove the mark.

Brief background:  A bounty hunter travels through space as he tracks down a crew of outlaws.

Sample 2

Creaking sounds of hulking metal reverberated through the space of the rusted outpost as the Slave I docked in the bay of the bustling star port. Jacob Vega had named his zippy cruiser after the vessel of a notorious outlaw he’d idolized in his youth.  The ambitious bounty hunter stretched himself as luxuriously as he could in the cramped cockpit of his ship, his leather pilot’s jacket creaking as his dark olive eyes gazed through the reinforced glass at the tarnished façade of the looming transit station. 

The settlement was an oxidized husk of what it once was.  The sharp odor of corroded metal filled his nose as he strolled through the foreign yet familiar strips of Taurlon station.  The narrow corridors were swarming with commotion.  Dock workers raced passed one another, their carts clanking audibly against the hard, uneven floor as the ominous hunter deftly navigated through the hive of activity.  It had been nearly a decade since Jacob visited the remote location on a smuggling run.  He had spent several years trafficking illegal goods, learning the furtive routes routinely used by those who wished to travel unnoticed.  It was a knowledge that translated well into his current profession; his knack for tracking wanted goods graduating into a capacity for tracking wanted people.  Jacob didn’t bother getting caught up in the morality of his work, opting to let the number of credits placed on someone’s head make his decision for him.  It was an outlook that had led him to the outskirts of the system.  Back to the dingy, isolated cesspool that was Taurlon. 

“Vega! Never thought I’d see your mangy mug again.  Especially not after the last time you were chased out of here like some expired whore!”
A short man with poor posture greeted Jacob on an elevated catwalk suspended over the shipping docks.  His beady eyes and rat-like nose were visible in the dim light that hung over him. 

“You’d do well not to remind me, Nemu.” Jacob responded calmly, his hand moving to adjust the leather headband that kept his dark tresses from falling in front of his face.  “Had it not been for your gaping mouth, the job would’ve-“

“You can’t talk to me like that!” The short, rat-like man interrupted.  “I’ve made connections, Vega.  You see- I'm a pretty big deal around Taurlon these days, old friend.  I've risen high above you now and you’d do well to remind yourself!”  An arrogant smile beamed from Nemu as he stared up into the looming eyes of the hushed bounty hunter.
A subtle grin curved Jacob’s lips, partially shrouded in the shadow that the dim light did not touch.  A scar was visible on the cheek that was illuminated, his dark stubble fractured around the old wound that cracked along his defined jaw line. 

“The Chakaar, when did they leave?” Jacob’s voice reflected the calmness he maintained, his lips still curving to return the spurious smile that projected from Nemu’s face. 

“Ha!” The rat-man scoffed.  “And what business is that of yours?”

This time, he did not have the opportunity to grin as Jacob’s fist burst from the shadow to collide with his mouth.  Black and red spots danced in his vision and he found himself leaning dangerously far over the low railing of the catwalk.  He could hear the click of cold steel as he felt the rounded contour of a barrel pressed to the back of his skull.

“The Chakaar ship, when did it leave!” Jacob repeated, his tone no longer bothering to veil his impatience. 

“F-f-fuck! I don’t know! I swear!”  Nemu choked out, struggling to speak as he felt his lip swelling, the copper taste of his blood coating his jagged teeth.

“Think hard, Nemu.  Your life depends on it.  I want you to take a look down at that dock below you and try to imagine when you saw that ship leave- then what it would look like when I decorate it with the inside of your head.” The bounty hunter nudged him roughly, the barrel bruising his scalp. 

“Two days ago! The ship departed two days ago!” Nemu gasped as he felt himself yanked back onto stable footing.  Jacob holstered his pistol, his hands moving to straighten out Nemu’s coat.  The affable smile had returned to the bounty hunter’s face.

“Keep yourself grounded, Nemu.” Jacob spoke out, his hands holding firmly to the short, rat-man’s collar.  “Such heights don’t suit you.”

If you made it this far and you're still interested in starting something up with me, I applaud you!  Now PM ME. (: