➳❥ The Stone Cauldron (FxM) Open!

[Standing Stones]

➳❥ Currently searching? ❝ Yes ❞ ||| ❝ No ❞

Please don't ask me to go to your thread, I tried my best to make this one.  (╯ ⁎⁍̴̛͂▿⁍̴̛͂⁎)╯
My O/O

ROLE-PLAY SLOTS:

1/ Taken

2/ Open

3/  Open

➶ About me - My Rules - Turn ons - Turn offs - Pairing/Plots - Samples -  Faceclaims ➴

● ➳❥  About me
Welcome, welcome! To my tiny Stone Cauldron!
You can call me Stone, but I'm as soft as butter, I promise.
Let's not waste time, first things first, a little about me! What kind of partner am I?



╰❥ I love OOC planning and gossiping. The more we get to know each other, talk about our characters, flesh them out and get excited over the role-play, the more hyped I will be when it begins and as it goes on. I'm the kind of person to make pinterest boards, playlists that I think suit the theme! I hope that you might like that too- But if that's too much, I understand!
But I do require somebody who does more than the minimum of chatting OOC with me and getting hyped for it. Otherwise, it's hard for me to feel invested.


╰❥ I am literate and write loooong detailed posts. I'm trying to improve my writing skills, so it's not as flowery, or saturated with big over the top words as it used to be, but that's a work in progress. Be patient with me. The fact is, however, that I do write paragraphs to wee novellas. If you aren't comfortable with that, then I don't think this will work.


╰❥ I can double- in fact, I like to double and bring more side characters into the fray. It makes the world feel more real, more vibrant! I, however, do not intend for this to be used as me playing a male love interest to you. I'd like it if you doubled as well, but you don't have to take on anything more than you are comfortable with!


╰❥ I play as female characters to male counterparts. But please don't expect doormats. If the plot calls for it, they may be cold and brutal. Or the character may be naive and gullible at first. But as things go to hell in a hand-basket, they will change and grow. Whether that growth leads to somebody strong and virtuous or somebody vindictive and venomous- That's up to us now isn't it!


╰❥ I will never write for your characters. I will not god-mode, overwrite what you wrote, I will never lead the story for the both of us. I want us to be equal partners and work together to have fun and create something worthwhile- Please do me the same courtesy.
That being said, if you want our characters to do something in particular in your post- Let me know and I'll be fine with it!


╰❥ I adore dark twisted romances and sensual tension.

That distorted, obsessed, masquerade of 'love' held by male stalkers/psychos/gas-lighters that drive them to do unspeakable things to get what and who they want. How they so masterfully use others as pawns, manipulate their feelings and then throw them under the bus when they are no longer of use. And yet how well they hide it from the outer world! How they appear like model citizens- Even if the other character knows the truth, which makes the situation all the more madness inducing.

The sexual tension aspect is to say not outright crassness but rather an escalation, a suggestion of what they desire. From getting just a little too close to breathe them in as they pass, to making deep unbroken eye contact as they lick the blood from off their thumb.
"I want you and I want you to know that I want you." Sexy but nothing crass.

╰❥I know this is weird, but at the moment I really find men with unique faces attractive.

I don't like overly masculine face claims for some reason. When somebody has a sweet face but a twisted heart it's something that thrills me, I love how it can be used to deceive people. I hope that's okay. I've added some face claims I liked down in the third post- if only to show what I mean!

● ➳❥ Rules
I know we like to be chaotic, but don't break these, darling.

╰❥Naturally all the site rules are to be followed.


╰❥ I'm not here to write pure smut. I need story to be the focus and the smut to be the bonus. (That rhymed!)
      I guess a ratio of 30/70 (smut/plot)? I'll get bored otherwise and lose interest.


╰❥ Please don't try to convince me to play men for your women.


╰❥ My characters are not doormats. You won't get away with consistently treating them like shit.


╰❥ Quality matters more than quantity, but please don't reply to my novella with two paragraphs. It'll break my little concrete heart.


╰❥ I use real life face claims, or high quality artistic render face claims. As an artist myself, I respect your desire to draw your characters, but please don't use          them with me.


╰❥ I reply usually within a day or two, except on Tuesdays when I have my online course. If I'll be late I'll tell you, so please do the same for me. If I don't hear        back from you through a reply nor in OOC chats for over two weeks, I will assume our Rp is over.


╰❥ Character MUST be over 21.


╰❥ Do not confuse our characters romance for ours. This isn't a dating site.  Don't be creepy, leave that to our characters.


╰❥I love subtlety, I adore realistic characters.

      I far prefer insinuated details to obvious actions. If a character is evil, the subtlety in their actions, hints at possible horrors they might have committed are much more appealing than any crazy murdering spree they might go on. Don't show off how crazy they are, show off how crazy they might be.
      I want characters that bleed, have realistic passions, distastes, talents and attitude towards others and life. On the subject of realism, I get put off by overly 'intense' characters who swear left, right and centre, break glass with their fists for the hell of it and can take more punches than Chuck Noris. I find that makes characters so undeniably strong is the fact that they can get hurt, they do have weaknesses and they die just as easily as any other person if caught off guard. However they manage to survive despite it all, time after time against the odds through skill, silver tongues and sometimes sheer dumb luck. Beautiful dumb luck!

● ➳❥ Turn Ons

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Biting, marking, hickeys

Intelligent manipulators

Blindfolds, handcuffs, restraints, Dub-Con

Rough sex and/or making out (Throat fucking, tongue fucking, multiple forced orgasms, sexual exhaustion, hair pulling, spanking.)

Attempted Breeding ( Creampies and such, but no actual pregnancy though)

Teasing

Clothes theft

Crossdressing

Somnophilia

Male leads with hand/feet fetishes or so on.

Pretty androgynous male leads

● ➳❥  Turn Offs

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Anal

Pregnancy

Anything in the toilet, stays there. Nope nope nope.

Vore

Age-play

Fisting

Pain play

Rape

Cheating

Male Doormats

Overly muscular (bodybuilder type bodies)

● ➳❥  Plots And Pairings

I would play the side underlined.


╰❥Beware the Black dog

Bully x Victim turned Bully OR Bully x Victim's evil Twin

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

He was always a doormat.
Yet, she hadn't always stepped on him. In fact, once upon a time, she'd tried to help him. She'd tried to elevate him with her when she climbed the social circles upon their graduation.

When he had publicly turned away from her and her offer, loudly proclaiming she wasn't who he once knew, that he'd never join a bunch of self-loathing narcissists, he inadvertently called upon her ire rather than her empathy. From that day on, she made his life a hell. Whether right or wrong, it mattered little, so long as she saw that sobbing hopeless face. A reminder that no matter how badly she treated him, he'd always crawl back like a dog. A warped comfort.

But little did she know that the day would come when she'd go too far. When partaking in a sadistic charade, claiming to be sorry for all her endure and giving him a passionate kiss was revealed to be nothing more than a sick joke, he broke.
And, now, he was hellbent on breaking her.

So, a typical scenario! But here's the thing!
We could either keep this a normal bully x victim pairing, where the vindictive victim turns around, changes himself to become her tormentor instead.
OR
We could turn this into a Bully x Twins, where the weaker willed twin's brother comes back home after being sent away for years. Upon coming home he finds out what's happened and decides to replace his brother. Being much stronger, in both mind and body, he has got a palate for revenge.
Whichever suits you best!

╰❥The Devil wears You

Fashion Designer x Forced Model

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

She had to have him.
When MC crossed paths with that crumpled mess, YC, whoring himself out (or begging, whichever you are comfortable with!)on the street side of downtown, she'd thought nothing of him, had not intended to help or so much as get involved.
That was until she saw his face.

Even in that state, he was more beautiful than any individual she'd ever seen. Far more than any of her current models she used to promote her haute-couture brand.
All that wasted beauty, that eroticism- all the potential! That night she decides to scoop him up, to take him home, feed him, clean him, and give him a bed for the night. For charity? Gods, no, there's no such thing in the world. He's nothing more than a body.
One that could be her piece de resistance. Her muse and model.

MC intends to keep him, almost as a pet to preen- A pretty mutt. After all, he has nowhere else to go. Running from his past pimps and loansharks, he needs her money and her protection.
And she knows it.

MC forces him to crossdress (Optional!) and become her model for photoshoot and catwalks, with no qualms about harming his pride. Threatening to unveil him being a dirty pervert, throw him to his loan sharks, should he refuse. Yet, as her brand gains popularity due to this exclusive gorgeous new model, his influence growing too, she begins to get complacent. Accidentally letting him gather dirt on her too as the tables begin to turn.

(It would be nice if YC was depraved too. Angry, resentful, humiliated but not a doormat. Just  stewing and waiting for the right time to strike back.)

╰❥Lovely Bones

Detective x Serial killer

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

They've started again.
The long string of murders whose thread had once been cut by her father, at the cost of his life, has begun again. The bloody hands had been tied and the muzzled beast thrown into the deepest, darkest cell they could find. So, why? Why is it now, years later, that a copycat has revealed themselves?

The small community, already enfeebled by the passing covid crisis, is shaken by the gruesome discoveries of three maimed bodies in the tunnel underpass. Those in charge are reluctant to put into place new quarantines or curfews and risk losing the upcoming re-election. Panic stricken families hiding away their children in their homes. The fragile peace is being broken and neighbours are turning on neighbours.
The situation is growing desperate.

Following in her father's footsteps MC is desperate to stop this new killer before any more blood is spilled.
But there are no clues.
No leads to follow.

Running out of options, a drastic last ditch effort by her superior is taken; To have detectives work alongside YC, the original killer, her fathers' murderer, and granting them a plea deal in an attempt to catch this new threat before it's too late.

MC is disgusted, but demands to be put in charge of YC, claiming that if anybody is going to keep a sharp eye on him, to take the proper precautions, it'll be her.
Inadvertently arousing the interest of at least one psychopath.

╰❥ DollHouse

Human caretaker x Living Doll

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

In the far reaches of Scotland, far away from the prying eyes of the world, there exists a quaint village that goes by the name Innismoor. There, hidden amongst the tallest trees on the tallest hill, overlooking the quiet town, sits an old house. Skirhall Manor.
Within it lives a gentle old man and his children. Youths he has saved from unfortunate circumstances and to whom he has given a new chance at life. He is the towns’ most cherished and respected elder for all the good he seemingly does.

But not all is as it seems. For you see, these  are not children. They are not even human.
These are dolls.

Given life by an artefact that escaped the witch trials, they move, breathe, speak and never grow old.
The grandfather has been their caretaker for generations, his ageing having been halted for decades due to the power of the artefact. He’s cleaned them, restored them and loved them as a family for decades, as did his father before him. But he’s grown tired, weary of life, and even the artefact is beginning to fail in keeping him in good health.  So he turns to his only living descendant, the only one he feels he feels he can trust. Or trust to be desperate enough to help and keep quiet.


A reprobate.
She comes from nothing.
Working a dead end job, associating with miscreants in the eyes of society, getting into trouble with the law and staying out until dawnbreak. Her life is a series of unfortunate events, since the day she was put into the foster care system as a child.
She holds nothing but contempt for her estranged grandfather for having abandoned her as a child. But, when she gets into some serious trouble with the law and is put on probation, she’s to be put under house arrest at a permanent home address. One she doesn’t have.

Suddenly, she receives an invitation she can’t refuse. To go ‘home’ to live under her grandfather's care where she will be given a job, wages and a permanent address. Against her gut, she does.
Yet, when she arrives on the doorstep, she is that very night confronted by a maddening truth of a household of dolls.

Not least of all by one of the oldest dolls. One with a broken face and a clear animosity towards her.

(The dolls don't want her there, she's an outsider to them. They make her life hell in an attempt to get her to leave because they don't believe for a second she gives a shit about them. She'd have to gain their trust over time as she begins to care for them, a hard objective to achieve when Y/C is in her way at every turn. It would be cool to plot some history between them, maybe she's responsible for damaging his face?)

╰❥ Alone

Human survivor x Caretaker Android

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The world didn’t end with a bang.


Nobody knows what the final push was.
Overpopulation had already left resources stretched paper thin. Since the creation of androids, originally intended to take over the workforce, jobs disappeared from one day to the next. In doing so, the disparity between the wealthy and the poorest was so unfathomable, they may as well have been living in different worlds. In the slums, famines and crime spread like wildfire. In the ‘Treetops’, the elite spent their days feasting, fucking and doing all but look down.

The climate itself had come to a breaking point. In some places, perfect storms ravaging the lands, deserts turning to snowscapes, leaving the unprepared civilians to die in the cold. Other lush counties had dried up into barren wastes, now uninhabitable now mans’ lands.

Then came the sickness.
Initially, the symptoms seemed benign. No more than a common cold.
Then the tongue would become inflamed, making communication and breathing difficult. Next, albeit slowly, their eyes would swell and turn red until all sight was lost, culminating in an eventual sickening ‘pop’. Last to go was the brain, naturally, as it would have been far too merciful any other way.

At first, people tried to fight back, to survive, holding onto what little hope they could. But people are only human and faith can only go so far. In the end, as the months dragged on and considering the alternative, letting go didn’t seem so bad anymore.
And so, in the year 2067, the world went dark.

The world didn’t end with a bang.
It succumbed like a child fighting a deep sigh, holding on until finally letting go and petering out.


Years after the event, living alone in the redwoods has provided just about enough for M/C to get by, all whilst hiding her from the dangers of nomadic survivors. Strangers are almost always dangerous or ill-intentioned, their tribes fighting for whatever scraps of the world are left. Cannibalism isn’t unheard of either in the far reaches of the world. But by far, it is her being a woman which paints the grimmest target on her back.

Her only form of communication with one other human being out in the world is a radio by which they talk. Yet these talks are infrequent, impersonal, almost always short. When they feed her crumbs of them having a family, M/C sinks deeper into despair in her desire for companionship.
So one day when she stumbles across Y/C, a broken and barely functional android out in the wild, she decides to take a risk for the first time. After all, these models were made specifically as companions, friends, playthings and lovers for the elite. She only wants a friend, so what could go wrong?

What she doesn’t take into account is when the world went dark, so did the firewalls and system updates…
And her new Android may not be entirely safe or fit for use anymore.

● ➳❥  Sample

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

"Enough."


The arrow flew silently through the air, like death itself upon the chill of a winter's night.
Released softly from her bowstring, it shattered rain drops as it sought out her mark, sinking cleanly, neatly in between the ribs with a soft knock against flesh. As if it had always belonged there.

The deer's hoarse shriek echoed as far as the trees would allow, before taking off through the shrubs with the desperation only a wounded animal knows. She tore herself from the undergrowth, a flash of red hair against the night, pursuing like a faithful shadow.
The low hanging branches whipped her cheeks viciously, damp roots like knots threatening to snare fumbling feet. She could not allow herself that mistake. Not tonight. No room for forgiveness when the smallest lapse of judgement meant risking losing her precious quarry within the thick ink of the wood.

No, not mine. Not yet.

Ahead, the din of hooves against the ground echoed her own beating heart. So deafening as the blood and adrenaline rushed through her veins, that she could no longer hear the raging rainfall. Natures' show of strength reduced to a mere inconvenience as her shoes fought to maintain purchase against the mulch of wet leaves.
It was proving harder to breathe with each passing second, leaping through trees and shrubbery, as if each breath carried its weight and was slowing her down. Just a little more. She needed to keep it in her line of sight!

Fifty yards!

Twenty!

Any moment now. Any-

Thunder cracked like a whip overhead, its counterpart breaking through the thick canopy and blinding her.
The soles of her feet hit the sopping litter-fall at just the wrong angle. Too late. She hadn't the time to reposition. Her outstretched hand grasping at air as the surface acted like black ice beneath her. The weight of her already off-kilter body bore down upon her ankle, snapping it brutally into an unnatural angle and sending the young woman careening into the rough bark on the nearest redwood. For a fraction of a second, all seemed to freeze upon impact. Her warm breath painted the cold air as the wind was knocked out of her lungs, vision blurring as her eyes watered.

Freya shakily hissed in a breath through her teeth, biting down on her pliant tongue as she desperately withheld a scream. Later. She could scream later. But for now…

The grime of waterlogged bark coated her under nail as she clumsily threw herself forwards in a last ditch attempt. Her wide eyes wildly searched between the great trees for where she'd last seen it. In the distance a flash of movement snapped her to attention. The stag had gotten ahead, but she could see it was slowing, its movements becoming sloppy as its body gave in to punctured lungs. There was still a chance. She could still make it. She just needed to keep up a little longer.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Tongues of fire licked at her ankle with every step, igniting a searing pulse in her neck as sweat mixed with rain and dripped down her face, stinging her eyes and leaving the taste of salt on her lips. Pushing herself off a protruding rock to gain momentum, the thought flitted through her mind that her lungs would give out at any moment. That was fine by her. So long as they gave out last.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The woods stood still, watching on whilst the two figures dove between the growing giants. Thunder shook the sky, illuminating them as the distance grew shorter with every second. One hand on her baldric feeling the hilt of her worn blade, the other extended in front, fingertips reaching, able to only just graze wet fur.
She felt its body heat in the passing air, water droplets sliding off its back, the ripple of powerful muscle hidden beneath its skin  flexing with each stride. Another moment and it would be within her reach.
And then it was.

Freya threw herself upon it savagely, wrapping one hand around the beasts' neck, digging her nails as far as they would go into the rough hide. The other blindly grabbed for the knife to issue the coup de grace as she was dragged along. So close. Its slippery metal shaft evaded her and their bodies collided in the struggle, trying in vain to concentrate amid the chaos.

Until she managed to curl her fingers around it's hilt, raising the knife-
The stag lurched its head around. Its full weight hitting her square in the face. Behind her eyelids bloomed something white and hot. Freya recoiled, her fingers loosening just enough for the hilt to slip between them, her only weapon knocking against her leg and skidding into the forest, but where, for the life of her, she could not see as her vision swam. There were more important things to worry about.

Freya clenched her jaw, something wet oozing from her nose.
She had to do something fast, her arm was losing feeling, her muscles screaming in protest. Then, as if guided, her eyes caught the glint of water shone off the ragged feather of her arrow.

Her shaking grip on the stag waning, she reached over, curling her fingers around the jutting stump. With one great movement, letting out a desperate cry, she wrenched it from its bed of flesh, taking pieces as it went. Blood erupted from the opening, covering her fingers and eyes, as she mindlessly stabbed the beasts' neck in quick shallow motions, the hapless animal bucking as hard as its last vestiges of strength allowed. It was in vain.

It swayed from side to side as it slowed, dragging the young woman along with it like a limp marionette for another two agonising metres until with a whine it toppled upon her. Their bodies skidded to a halt in the dirt, hers trapped beneath its weight as sharp twigs tore through the fabric of her shirt and cut at her exposed back.

For a moment, she feared the animal would rear up again. If it did, there would be nothing more she could do.
However, as the beasts' final attempted breaths weakened, its shaking slowed until it was nothing more than one last gentle push against the palms of her hands.
Dark pupils dilated as they stared into hers.

Dead.

The sound of rain came again, reclaiming the redwood.
Freya couldn't make a sound. So exhausted was she as she laid there, pinned, letting the raindrops fall against her face, gulping in air. Gods, as she clung to the matted blood soaked body, she felt like she'd almost drowned.

It took all her willpower, her hands pressed into the quickly chilling fur, to not let herself fall asleep. It was deliciously tempting and she was so tired. So sore. But, she was all too well aware that it would be her last mistake. The rain and dirt would leech her warmth and hypothermia was an unforgiving bitch.
The young woman began to heave, overexerted muscles shaking violently and she crawled feebly out from under the carcass, turning to look back at the now empty eyes.

No death was instant. No kill painless.

She'd wished she felt sympathy for the creature. In the back of her mind, she felt like her intentions should have been to spare the thing any more suffering. Truth be told, Freya knew otherwise. It was not love nor kindness that she'd been screaming in her head. It was but one word.

"Enough."

She'd changed.
Then again the world had, hand't it?
Had she been asked years ago, by those well-to-do gentlemen who relished the idea, rather than the practice, of a hunt, whether she'd ever entertained the thought of putting her skills as an archer to use, Freya would have been mortified. Of course, she couldn't hold it against them, not truly. Not now.

Admittedly, they had surely envisioned hunting much in the same way young children envisage the wild west whilst playing cowboys and Indians with their toy swords and headdresses. All glory and pomp. Fancying themselves great hunters of the forests, stalking the woods, but not for too long mind you, as such skilled trackers such as themselves, bred from only the good stock, would certainly come upon their prey within mere moments. Oh no, none of that dilly dallying common folk call tracking nor dirty dung examining for them!

They would stroll in with their pristine slacks and shining pocket watches, cigar in mouth and be happened upon by only the most glorious of Stags. Then, they'd shoot it dead on the first try and spend a night feasting beneath the stars as the surrounding forest leaned in to partake in the revelry. What they didn't take into account was the blood. The struggle, the shrieks, the desperate attempts to flee. Looking another creature in the eye as you sunk your blade into their throat and watched that light be snuffed out.
The dirty, gritty nature of killing.

Freya didn't care for glory. She cared for survival, for food. She would eat tonight, and that was enough. She'd needed to drag the carcass back to her home. Skin it and preserve it before it began to smell and attracted a bear. Or worse. Except, her bloody knife was somewhere in the woods…

"Where'd that fucking useless thing go…"
She swore hoarsely, her hands digging into the mud as she pushed herself off the ground, "It can't be far. God, I hope it didn't fall into a burrow." 


Taking a furtive glance around the forested floor, there was no glimmer of cold metal in the rain muffled moonlight. Freya clicked her tongue as she raised a shaking hand to wipe away some of the blood coagulating on her upper lip. She didn't have time for this. She needed to be home before sunrise, before the light of day made her more visible to… well anyone.

As if anybody would be around here anyways…
She pushed the intrusive thought from her mind.

Not now.

"How far did you drag me?" She questioned, turning from glancing at the lifeless stag back to the murky depths from which they emerged, Didn't feel that far. Guess there's nothing for it but to retrace my steps."

As it would turn out, finding it wouldn't take long.
She'd only trudged a few metres, clumsily trying keep as much pressure as she could off her twisted ankle, a difficult feat when walking in slippery mud. Yet, following the muddy hoofprints back up the path, she heard the distinct 'tink!' of water on metal. Off to her left, a slight glimmer contrasted against the dull brown of rotting leaves and growing clumps of moss in the shadows of the trees. Her knife, a little muddy but none the worse for wear, lay in a small opening in the forest.

Freya beamed, eyebrows raised, her body visibly relaxing as she stumbled over. She couldn't believe her luck! Perhaps it was on her side after all.
"Got'cha you gorgeous little bastard! I swear I'll never let you go ag-"


Her words got caught in her mouth.
As she drew closer, her eyes adjusting to the darkness beneath the tree, the clump of 'moss' came into view. Except it wasn't moss, for moss didn't have feet.
She felt her stomach drop.

"Well, shit."

● ➳❥  Face-Claims

↠ My Favourite Female Face-Claims. May-haps, one will take your fancy?

↠ Luto

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

↠ Nour

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↠ Santevis

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

↠ Shuro

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

↠ Aern

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

↠ My Favourite Male Face-Claims. (Particularly craving number 1)


↠ Number One! Yeah, I know the worlds' going crazy for him. Sue me. ; u ;

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

or

↠ Number two!

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↠ Number three!

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↠  Number four!

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I'll try to find some more. Feel free to send me some!