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Author Topic: Looking for a long-term partner Story-focused and smut focused-stories! MxF  (Read 636 times)

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Offline CarelessWandererTopic starter

Currently still looking for a long-term partner!

Welcome to my partner-searching thread! I hope you'll find something you like here and We'll be able to create a story together!


EDIT: Given I reached the character limit on my thread I can only post the new ideas and story plots I have at the bottom please if you're interested in looking at the new ideas I have provided (Which of course come with a writing sample introducing you to my idea) then please scroll to the bottom to look at them!


For now I'm still open and looking for partners so please if you like what I have to offer or if you liked one of the stories do feel free to approach me via PM's!
Let me start off with the basic information regarding my writing preferences, availability and my preferences regarding yours, On's/Off's and then leave you with a wide range of possible prompts that can serve as an inspiration for you to create something new with me or encourage you to play that exact scenario with me as well!


Writing preferences.

This is quite a simple list really. But one that can easily tell you if We match in terms of writing preferences. Well enough said!

  • Normally the more to write the better, but I found that not everyone exactly enjoys it thus I found that the length of 4-6 paragraphs is that sweet spot for me allowing me to enjoy the RP even if I'm not writing whole pages.
  • I don't have any problem with playing in Third Or the first person, either way works for me.
  • Usually I find myself putting a strong emphasis on the character's emotions and tend to describe certain feelings coursing through them during the scene. Such writing is not required from you I'm just stating that if perhaps you find this type of writing boring or simply hate it.
  • I'd prefer to push the story or scene with every response, rather than have a partner or myself only responding/reacting to what has happened in the scene without really pushing it. It's not fun, and forces only one of us to do all the work.
  • Before We'll even begin to write I suggest a little trial RP consisting of 6 responses in the general. Three from me. Three from you. You're free to leave even during the trial RP without any explanation why (Though if it's something about my writing constructed criticism or tips are always welcome!) I can promise you though that I will participate in the trial RP to the moment where both of us sent three PM's to a short scene We've discussed. And after that give my let's call it verdict, if I'd like to RP with you or if, wouldn't like to. I hope it's fair!
  • Once trial RP is done, I'll gladly talk with you and finally discuss the idea.
  • I'm always planning to play as a Male character but if you'd like me to play as a different gender We can talk.


Availability&My preferences regarding your Avaliability.

  • I usually try to respond as soon as I get the message and have time to write out a proper response. Given part-time job and an outside life I don't always have that luxury from Monday to Friday, although weekends allow me to have much more time both to write and talk.
  • I won't disappear without a word. I tend to leave a heads up if I won't be able to respond to you. Often specifying how long I would be inactive for. If possible I ask for the same thing. But it's not required.
  • I don't really like to wait for responses. So if you won't message me and won't send any heads up I'll abandon the RP after span of two weeks. I hope that's fair. I know everyone has an outside life, but I do too and I won't be waiting forever.


On's and Off's

You're free to look at them on my profile. But I'm afraid they won't tell you much apart from the fact I'm open to some things. Still. Best way to know what kinks I have? Read my writing samples or possible prompts I want to play out. I have a specific taste regarding my female/Intersex partners especially when it comes to their physical build and personality. Let's just called it, A non-damsel that isn't in distress. Of course, I have Off's too, but to put it simply. I just don't enjoy kinks that won't fit a specific scene/theme.  Non magical Fantasy world with both of us playing as sellswords while we put a heavy emphasis on realism? Then I don't want to see hyper sizes on either of our characters. Unless if it's a dream sequence or illusion hallucination. In other words. I don't have off's regarding kinks.


My writing!


Here We are. Feel free to look around, read and once you're sure We match as writing partners feel free to PM me either with a desire to create something completely new. Or create something similar to the pairing suggested in the prompt. Or just play out one of the prompts of mine! I'll be including few new ones soon!



Havoc and Order. MxF/Futa HumanXMonster Pairing.

Writing Sample. Treat it as an attempt to get your creative juices flowing! (Currently looking for partners interested in "Havoc And Order, The Beast and it's Master." If you're not interested in it, please scroll down to the list of my other available RP ideas! )



The rain continued on, a thousand tiny dull knives stabbing into the earth, trees, and naked body. It was calming, relaxing in it's own sad way. To be one one's back with the whole sky opened up and connected to his soul via a watery chain. People so rarely looked up into the sky, when he was dead, would his spirit fly up to the clouds? Or sink down into the mud with his body and blood. The cool water, masking and dulling the summer heat, also served to every so slightly ease the many bruises and blows he had taken. Yet, the small cuts and lacerations his assassins had inflicted stung and broke his pace like shattered glass. In fact, it was starting to hurt more and more, as his senses recovered from their stupor and survival instinct once again began to grab hold of his eyes and force them open.



Still, on his back, the only thing he saw was the sky and edges of the tree line in this muddy clearing. Grey swirls of storm cloud moved by the will of air current far above him. The vast open expanse of the sky felt like an invitation, a calling, but one he had to refuse. After all, there was a mystery afoot. There only the sound of rain and his breathing. No snuffle of metal, no barking, and fighting over gear. No leader with a foul laugh ready to gut him from groin to neck. That should be comforting, yet he a deep sense of danger and dread remained. What if they had left him to starve? Or be eaten by the wolves?



Sitting up weakly, streams of water running down his face in mock tears, clever eyes tightened at the horror before him. Red. There was red everywhere: the ground, the wagons, the pines. Body parts and gore from his attackers were strewn about as if a whirlwind of blades had blown through and left ,only him intact. Some of them had been pierced by branches and hung in the trees, others disemboweled and drowned in their own filth. The lead was just a few feet away from him and the only one still intact, but not whole.



His head was facing the wrong way. It had been spun around in place, like a marionette doll, and the shattered bones of his spine jutted out of his neck in a way somehow more disturbing than any of the other acts of violence his companions had suffered. Perhaps it was the way he still twitched ever now and then, as if some tiny spark of life remained and was very slowly being snuffed out. No, that was defiantly the reason.



Turning away from the horrific scene, hoping to find some solace from the sigh, he instead came inches away from a specter of death. At least, that's the best way he could describe the figure that had been looming just a few feet behind him the entire time.



It was hart to tell if the specter was humanoid, for it wore a massive leather coat that totally covered it's limbs and legs. He couldn't even be sure if was standing or kneeling. Though if the latter was the case, considering how it already towered a head over him, it's full height must be tremendous. The coat was pattered in strange symbols and pagan trinkets, but he could make out a distinct star and eye motif. The neck of the creature and most of the face was tightly wound in black bandages, showing only a thin white nose and bright red eyes. Lips as white as death peeled back in a smile, showing rows of thin fangs and a totally black interior mouth.



The rest of the head was covered by a hood, but from the creatures temples two antlers sprout out and curved back along the skull. The points all angled inward, looking as if the creature wore black iron crown. "Hello, Master, won't you come inside?" It cooed, with a voice as flowing and gentle as rain itself. From the cloak a massive white claw reached out for him, attached to an arm coved in more bandages. Yet, he could make out tufts of white fur and patches of shining silver scales where the cloth did not fully cover. The claw itself was very human-like, save for the fact it was big enough to cover his entire head. Looked strong strong enough to spin it around too, just as it had done to the assassin leader. Unlike a human, there were no finger nails or claws like a wolf. Instead, each finger turned pitch black at the tip, and tapered off into a spike-like point.



"Come inside..." It repeated, the beastly limb caressing his face and slowly wrapping around the back of his head. Another limb just like it was also reaching out for his legs. Did she, as lest it sounded like a she, plan to pluck him up like a babe, and swaddle him naked in a horrific embrace? "You might catch your death, otherwise..." The creature hissed.






Greeting's Roleplayers! I've got an idea for a slow-burn RP I'm really into at the moment. I wouldn't quite call it a long term RP as I see it having a definite ending, but it could become one if we really are into it. (But if I'm being honest Long-term RP would work best for me!)



I don't like dictating an exact scenario and expect people to march to my beat, so I'll just talk about the high level idea and what I want to get out of it, and the table will be fully open to you if you want to suggest or change aspects of it!



I would like you to play some sort of fantastical or mythical creature. Mostly human in shape but with some bestial features. It'll mostly come down to your limit on how 'beastly' something can be before it turns you off. I personally can go all the way to 'animal that talks' but my default would be more 40% human 60% animal traits this time. (Though I'm also open to change the number!) I also don't have a problem with you going full anthro/beast so animal heads/fur, big claws, a tail, ears, teeth, and possibly in-human limbs all of that works. The creature will be not only very strong physically but very smart and well spoken. Goes for a majestic predator vibe. The kind that could make prey feel honored when she eats it.




In this story, I'm a heir apparent to some kingdom or other important thing. Maybe I have trouble making friends, maybe I'm a handful, but the beast is given to me as a personal body guard and slave. This would be the slow burn part. Where the two grow close and grapple with their relationship vs their power dynamics. The aspect that has me so excited is the idea of a wilful person who's smart and self sufficient but the beast is still able to dominate and ravish in private. Such as getting bossed around by me in front of the servants but then bending me over a in the stables and breeding (with) me like a mare while I beg for it.


This story cold also be set in a more modern fantasy. We can talk of ways to get that same relationship dynamic in a modern context, if you find historical fantasy to be boring or overdone.



My personal kinks are: Vers-Dominating, cum effects (can range from just aphrodisiac to addiction), needy cuddling/affection, size play, rough and powerful sex, being chased down by partners, futanari. (I have more kinks that I'd like to include but those will be shared as We talk about the idea.)



Kinks I support but are in no way mandatory or will be pushed for: Biting, scent, watersports, lactation, breeding, impreg, partial yandere mindset.


Unsure of some kinks? Take a look at the F-list of mine. Although I doubt it'll tell you much apart from the fact I'm open to everything as long as it logically fits the story. Take a look at my story ideas to get a better grasp of my kinks. My writing samples should help out with that!


Your kinks: Whatever you want other than scat, snuff, and gore.



Futanari partners are personal favorites, but I have no trouble with females!



I want this to be mostly romantic once the burn is high enough. However, if you like Dub/Non-con, we can always add a "heat" or full moon type dealie that drives you utterly wild and that my character has to sate her appetite. The beast will be totally obsessed and in love with me, and love can come in many monstrous forms.



Anywho! If you're not exactly interested in Havoc and Order here's the rest of the stories I'm open to create! As always first off have a writing sample of mine so you could get a better feeling of how I imagine the idea and the pairing! (Since the first writing sample was in third this one will be in first person!)



You're my girlfriend, the Intergalactic Assassin. Yup. MxF/Futa Human EngineerXSupersoldier/Superhuman Assassin


Side note: Also interested in similar pairing but in fantasy/Modern setting.




I'm just an engine-nerd. One that never could get enough of it, the moving parts and the smell of grease. Spending all day long troubleshooting problems and up to my elbows in sparking components and vulcanized rubber. When the opportunity arose to work on a serious piece of technological know-how, of course, I jumped at the chance. An opportunity to see the galaxy, indulge my fascination with things that chunk and whirr and explode - - - Almost get myself killed. But, I did manage to do something that my siblings and peers always teased me about! I managed to find myself a girlfriend…sort of. It’s complicated. She’s tall and brave and strong, though!



That’s her, on the hazy view screen of my terminal. The operation has been underway for nearly thirty hours at this point, and I still find myself drawn to watching her when the opportunity arises. There’s little else to do, in geostationary orbit. She’s in a matte-black bodyglove that accentuates every curve of her frame, especially the swell of her bust. Despite myself, I feel my heart beat a little faster and the first stirrings of arousal. She’s tall, with long black hair and eyes like chips of glacial ice. She hasn’t so much as twitched in over a day, prone behind the immensity of the Terminus rifle she’s set up in her hide.



She fires as I watch. I've never actually seen her do that, before! I'm always away at the critical moment, dealing with some minor technical issue or just taking a moment to wash up. The recoil from the rifle is immense, and before it’s even finished the motion generated by firing she’s moving. There isn't any tripod, just the rubble she carefully arranged to negate a visual profile. She sweeps the rifle into the air, taller than she is. I know just how deceptively strong that wolfishly lean, female form is. The strap hangs from her shoulder, braced by her right hand. The left is gripping a pistol that’s just as overlarge. Compensating for something? Probably just the immense, body-shattering ammunition a beast like that is loaded with. Everything about my ‘girlfriend’ screams lethality and hard, messy death.



I titter for an hour or two, after she picks up the little terminal I insisted she take with her. This is the third such indulgence she’s granted me, and she quirks the barest hint of what might be a grin before she shuts it. The deck rumbles beneath my feet, and I'm underway again. No inter-ship communications, not until I'm well out of range of whatever world this is. They don’t ever tell me, though sometimes she does. Speaking of her, she’s out of that bodyglove and dressed in a pair of fatigues and a loosely fitting under-shirt. Her tits wobble as she walks, bare feet making no sound. She pulls me in for a kiss that makes my head spin, tilting my head up to make it easier. I can’t deny there’s something amusing in attraction to me, given that she stands a head taller. Her right hand is already inside of my coveralls, but I'm not surprised. She always comes back insatiably horny.



“Missed you,” She breathes. Her lips trail from my own to my collarbone. She bites me, and she breaks the skin. She’s rough like that, but it comes with a surprising amount of affection. I’ve seen how she can be with others. I’ve seen what it is that she does for a living. She’s a human spear, built and trained for a single purpose until there’s nothing sharper. Each time she’s metaphorically hurled at some poor individual, that individual literally dies. My quarters adjoin to the Engine Room, and the door to them shuts on its own after its proximity sensors don’t detect any additional personnel. “Going to make you forget your own name,” She growls lustily, hands engaged in groping liberally at me.


I swallow hard.




That's the idea for a pairing. It would be the easiest to just roll with what I provided here. But if you'd like to create something similar to this do hit me up via PM's! As always I don't like dictating an exact scenario so I'd still prefer if you consider this only as writing sample.





North and it's inhabitants after the Cataclysm. MxF/Futa



(Another writing sample and story idea. Yay...)



A forest could seem like an alien world at night. Avil couldn't tell if the snow was still falling or if it had just been whipped up by the wind. It howled around him, deafening the sorcerer to his surroundings. The fresh powder stung his exposed skin, like a slap to the face. The lack of light played tricks on his eyes. There always seemed to be something just out sight or at the corners of his vision. Eyes in the darkness watching him progress. Or was that the hypothermia beginning to affect his mind?



Avil was one of the conventional mages. He was a researcher, exploring the origins of magic. And then learned something that he was not supposed to know: all conventional magic branched out from blood magic. This was the greatest secret the Convention was hiding from its own members, so it didn't take them a long time to attempt to silence Avil forever. They sent him away to explore the Northern reaches. A violent and unforgiving land, always covered in snow. Of course, he had a choice. Leave to see if the mentioned "Northlanders" really existed just as the stories told. Or face the reality of waking up with a dagger through your chest one day. But in the end, they just wanted him gone, they didn't want to kill her it would make people wonder. Think. Ask questions. They didn't need that. Just as they didn't need Avil.



Although warmly dressed for such journey, no one could be out in this type of weather for long. The chill had already started to sink into his feet and hands. Frostbite and hypothermia would soon follow. The gravity of the situation began to take hold. This was the type of weather people died in, he thought. Hugging his arms to his body Avil trudged through the knee deep snow. His legs felt like a ton of bricks every time he lifted them. It seemed like every step took more energy than the last as he moved forward. He so very wanted to sit down for a minute and rest. Just a minute before continuing on. A little voice in the back of his mind told him to keep moving. That if he stopped he would never get back up again. Every minute was a struggle to keep moving. This was a game of endurance he knew he would lose.



His steps had just begun to waver when he saw it. A light cutting through the trees. A light in the darkness.



I'm saved, he thought.



He made a beeline for that small glimmer of hope. If he could just reach that light it would all work out.



I better not be hallucinating, he thought.



As Avil got closer he saw the light for what it was.



A figure clad in all manner of furs, with a long blonde lock of hair. But that wasn't the important fact. She was. Huge. 6 Or even 7 feet. If not the fact her face was feminine and gorgeous Avil wouldn't even know she was a woman. And then there was darkness. His strength finally leaving him for the sake of that peculiar Northlander.



After all who else could it be?





Through Mud, Fire and Blood She comes for us. MxF/Futa



I like to watch Bram the Smith as he works. His right arm, twice the width of his left. It moves like a metronome, up and down. I'm always captivated by the hammer striking metal, the ringing instant of collision and the eruption of sparks. Her every movement is exactly like that singular moment.

Each time she moves, she kills. She's dressed in a filthy leather loincloth and a torque of woven iron. Leather vambraces and greaves gird her forearms and shins, not that she seems to have any need of them. She carries no shield; the hand that might have a use for it clutching a second sword instead. She throws her arms wide and screams with the pure bloody-minded joy of the slaughter, her tits heaving.



I mentioned Bram, didn't I? He was a soldier once, though he doesn't like to speak of those days. The helmet crammed onto his head looks old, but the steel clenched in his fist carries a visible edge. He's got the element of surprise, he's got training, he's got conviction. She turns from me in the time it takes Bram, sprinting as he is, to take a single step.

Her first strike severs his sword-arm at the elbow. It hasn't even struck the earth and she's got both blades dug into him to their crossguards. One on either side, rammed at a vicious diagonal angle that bypasses all those useful ribs. She wrenches her weapons free in an eruption of crimson viscera and again screams her victory to the skies.



I wasn't too close to the smith, but with most of the able-bodied men of the village dead already, I gave a cry of my own and charged at her. I don't remember taking the first step, yet I tell myself but now it's too late to stop. Her raven tresses whip with the motion of her body. I see the gleam of steel and intercept it. She laughs! The second strike comes at me even faster than the first - And misses me by a hair's breadth.

This can only end one way. Not even three minutes, and I'm sucking in ragged gulps of air that taste like nothing so much as defeat. She's circling me now, taking her time before launching the next attack. Each time she comes at me, it's vaguely reminiscent of a lioness toying with her prey. That's exactly what this is. The end comes so quickly I don't even feel any pain.



...



Actually, I still don't feel any pain. I'm still breathing. She struck out at my weapon so hard that it shattered. As if I could keep my grip on the hilt, after that. There's one of her swords as well, cast curiously aside in her moment of victory. Her teeth are stained pink by blood, and the hand that should have ended me is cupping my crotch fiercely instead.

Her voice is the guttural rasp of the blasted northlands. Her eyes are the colour of burnished copper. "Mine now," she hisses at me as my village burns and my kinfolk scream.





SWORDS! PUSSY! MAYHEM! MxF/Futa


Now that is a strong woman. She's got to be more than six feet tall, sure as my name is- Shit, I can't remember my name. I'm too afraid, because of all the orcs. The nuisance who has been busy fucking the corpse of the priestess rises, only to meet a battered looking broadsword with the bridge of his porcine nose. It shears the top of his head away. Where the fuck did she come from?Retracting her blade with a flourish, the warrior-woman hoots and cackles in a tongue foreign to me. Her athletic frame is bedecked in tattoos. Or paint. Can it be both? Leather covers bits and pieces of her. A tight binding keeps her swinging tits in check. Filthy looking roughspun cloth dangles to mid-thigh.



Still, that ass won't quit. She cocks a hip, and displays enough backside to bring all the green boys to the impromptu party she's set to throwing them.



Her arms snaps up, the motion so violent it sends her fiery orange tresses sailing out behind her. Some is braided, some is an unkempt mane, some is shaven. She cuts an arrow right out of the air with an expression of contempt. Her response is a tight spin that leaves her cleavage wobbling dangerously. Her broadsword sings, sailing from her hand and spinning end-over-end like some sort of horizontal saw. It almost buzzes. If only a word for that sort of thing existed in such simple times as mine. It catches the poor soul with the bow made of horn right in his bull-thick neck. A ludicrous explosion of gore earns another of those hyena-esque cackles from my maybe saviour.

The orc drops, squealing as his sort tend to do.



Thus disarmed, two of them decide to rush her. She steps aside from an axe, and shatters his kneecap beneath her boot. His punch-dagger ears are grasped viciously when he falls to his knees, and she breaks his ne-

Oops. Not quite enough there for proper leverage. She winds up tearing them right off of his head. His dismay doesn't last long. She rolls backwards, his companion cleaving through his compatriot to get at her. She crouches there, and the wind kicks up just right.



First of all, pussy smells amazing. I get the barest glimpse of her semi-trimmed twat, as well as the puckered ring of ultimate super-decadence that sits below it. Above it, in my case. Her posterior is hiked, just a little bit. The orc raises his weapon for another swing, and she dives at him; throwing her shoulder into his midsection hard enough to halt him. She stands, and he comes up off of his feet with a comical look of surprise.

She chucks him into another of his party, advancing while she was busy with the pair. The axe of their sundered comrade is ripped free of his sausage-fat fingers, twirled with a look of almost grudging approval. She toys with the pair for nearly a minute, before boredom arrives. Gets the better of her every time. The last of them nearly gets away.



She straightens up, sighting the distant green figure. She glances over her shoulder, as if she's known I were hiding there under the wagon the entire time. A grin lights her features, feral and bright, showcasing the smattering of freckles beneath her bright blue war-paint. You assume it's war paint. What else would it be? 'I fuck with orcs paint'?She hauls back her arm, lifts the other to steady herself. A second passes. Then two.



HWOOPH!



The axe goes sailing; a high arc carrying it out towards the distant woodland. Out, out, out - To where it lands, burying itself with an almost inaudible thok in the back of my fleeing assailant's head. I'm so amazed that for a moment, I forget that I was supposed to meet up with a new guard that assists me as a spellcaster. She can't tell, so it's not important to this story. All of us southern boys and girls look alike, so far as she's concerned. Not a proper beard between any of us.



She crouches over the wretch with her sword in his neck, and rips it free. Then she squats, and faces me. She wears the same feral grin as she drops a hand and whisks her loincloth away as pair of fingers move them over and spread her labia, showing slick pink, before a stream of nearly-clear piss strikes him in the cheek. He's too dead to care, and she's too busy reveling in her victory to notice me sliding a hand down my pants. Spattered with a smattering of gore, she wipes the flat of her weapon clean on some part of his crude garb that isn't soaked in her holy river of conquest.



At least she hydrates properly?



She stands, and stalks over to me without a glance at the carnage she's left in her wake. No worse than the orcs. She glowers at me. I stare up at her. The battle of my eyes lasts for minutes. Finally, in common-tongue with an accent so thick it must fuck mares, she manages to ask me. "You," she says, pointing as though I'm likely to be an idiot. "Cunt?" She's got her broadsword in one hand, so she simply slaps her loincloth sharply enough to give her tender nethers a bit of a sting. Is she asking if I have a cunt? Is she asking if I like her cunt?



Fucking warriors. Always charging into danger just to stuff some rich contractor into themselves to kill a few hours and leave an entire idyllic prairie smelling of soaked pussy and sodomy.





MXF/Futa Dark Sorcerer and his Black Knight. MxF/Futa





Modest braziers half encompassing each of the sixteen onyx columns light up the entire throne hall and paint the hall a range of yellows and oranges. The marble stone of the slanted ceiling dance in the flickering light while memorials look down upon the marble floor of this magnificent hall.



A maroon rug runs down from the throne for a few meters before coming to an end while embattled banners with emblazoned tassels drape from the walls. Between each banner hangs a torch, a few of them have been lit and in turn illuminate the paintings of folk heroes and legends below them.

Narrow, stained glass windows of mesmerizing mosaics are covered by veils colored the same maroon as the banners. The curtains have been adorned with burnished corners and jewels.



A regal throne of mahogany sits beneath two overlooking statues of legendary beasts and is adjoined by four equally lavish seats for visiting royalty of other nations.

The throne is covered in symmetric sculptures and fixed on each of the slim ears is an abstract rose. The fluffy pillows are a light maroon and these too have been adorned with burnished margins.





This image welcomed me every day. Of this opulent and imperial throne hall. **Empty.** ~~Without you.~~ But. It had to be done. Indeed I usurped the throne. I Rhobart Sephiran took control of these lands. Watched as blood of it's rightful rulers seeped through this very throne. You could call me a monster. A figure that abused its power to control. I did so, every drop of blood, every soul all of it, my doing. Everything...I never said it was easy for me to do so. Such task cost me a lot. Far more than I have ever imagined. My motives do not matter as of now...I'm in pain. I miss **you.** I never usurped the throne alone, I had you by my side. My blade, spearhead of my armies, my champion, and protector. Someone I have known for so long.




*Now you are gone.*





But you told me to wait. That you would return. Your touch always made me shiver, squirm. Reminding me who was hidden behind this black cage We have forged for you.  You were my whole world, the strength that allowed me to go on. Claim the throne. And yet. You said you had to leave. At first, I stopped you. Held you against your will...But I loved you. I had to let you go. Left alone, with a nation in need of it's leader. Leader left without his protector. Defenseless. Sitting on the regal throne. Awaiting your arrival...









Soooo I know it might be confusing so let me explain everything.  Our characters are the usual. Dark Mage/Warlock&Black Knight theme. With one twist, reverasl of roles. Rhobart, of course, loves you and you returned this feeling. (When you were still with him that is.)





Now what I'm aiming here for. Mostly for the continuation of the story. BUT. I'd love just as much to play out the scenes before they took hold of the kingdom. Maybe a scene of their victory and first Celebration at Kings Quarters~ That's one of many ideas.







I want the relationship there to be switch-y I don't want clear Dom or sub as each of them is powerful enough to be a match for the other. I even had idea that some of the Black Knight's power comes from Rhobart. The other thing is that idea of his black knight not being an actual black knight but some sort of warrior or other type of Huntress that made a pledge to serve him (Either due to him saving her life or pretending to be someone from the prophecy seems kind hot to me.) So any Warrior of a Cult dedicated to some death Goddess, Fallen Valkyries, Powerful Orcess or Amazon and other non-Armoured warriors are Welcome too! Overall feel free to make your character's unique. Not just a plain ol' knight.





Bonus points if you're into non human races, from something medicore-ish like elves to full out Anthro.



Better "Sister" Worse Brother MXF/Futa






I'm 100% fine with Tiff not being a futa of course!



"Ahhhh! So nice to finally take a break."



The 20-year-old pushed back his chair and stood, lifting his arms over his head to stretch his quaint 5'4" frame. A sudden yawn surprised him, and realizing now how tired he was, he made for his bed. He threw himself onto the sheets, flopping down like a damp rag and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling fan. Daniel watched it spin for a moment, mesmerized. He had no idea what he should do with his life, and no idea how to make the choices he needed to make. Perhaps he could just lay on his bed forever.



If it weren't for his overachieving sister, he wouldn't have any of these problems. Tiff was simply a better version of him, with a higher intelligence, more interesting personality, and ostensibly a better body. Daniel had started mimicking her in the way she was talking or approaching the situation and the way she talked with people, trying to compete, but even then, his sister drew all the stares from guys and girls alike. Something about Tiff was just... more radiant. Even Daniel had more than once found himself tracing his sister's body with dreamy eyes as they sat together for dinner.



Daniel pictured the last time he had spoken with Tiff, back during winter break. His sister had been wearing one of her customary long, flowing skirts, with a baggy maroon sweater. Even though she always bought loose-fitting clothing, it still found a way to perfectly accentuate her most attractive parts. The skirt had hugged tightly to hips that were just wider than those of any girl's Daniel has met, and Tiff's braless tits, a size larger of every girl and woman alike, bounced temptingly against the thin sweater.



He remembered the kindness in his sister's jade green eyes as they had discussed what it was that Daniel should do with his life. But at the same time, it seemed like Tiff was judging him. She'd suggested that Daniel take a year off from school, and spend some time traveling with friends to think about his purpose. But it was easy for someone like Tiff, someone so gifted, to give advice like that. Picturing his sister's cute smile, Daniel fumed, his face turning red. Sometimes he wished that he could somehow just ruin his sister's career.



It hurt him she was perfect or better or even "bigger" in everything. Even the secret the two shared she had an upper hand as the result of a freak-y genetic anomaly, she kept the genitals of both genders hidden under her casually fitting garments. Tiff had a normal vagina right where it should be, but it was usually covered by her... sizable... male parts. The last time Daniel had seen Tiff naked, he'd accidentally walked in on his sister as she was "relieving some stress." Fortunately, Tiff hadn't heard him, and Daniel had a good long look at a 7-inch cock, its foreskin rippling, and a pair of smooth, perfectly round bloated testicles to match. But that was a long time ago the two were still growing.



Daniel sighed irritated on how pathetic and useless he was compared to his sister. With that troubling his mind he just closed his eyes, considering to "relieve some stress" on his own. Quietly and carefully slipping out of the comfy clothes he lived in complete reassurence no one was at home at the moment. Hoe ironic it was to think that Tiff chose to visit sometime "soon". Unaware of that possibility he just rolled with it, with a sigh of utter defeat he just looked down at his body getting the unpleasant bitter taste getting to his lips. Nestled under a blanket he began.



And that's when he heard the door to his room open...



Thanks for getting through this wall of text! As for the roleplay I'm open for any approach. But first.

I think it's obvious who walks in buuut, if you're in the mood to play as someone else then his older sister. (Dunno Mother/Best friend etc) shoot if I'll like the idea I'll agree.



As for the approach, long-term would sond good for me, maybe not related to non-con as recently I'm leaning towards Romance moreeee. We'd have to work everything out of course so...

Bonus points if you wouldn't mind looking somewhere similar to this! (I'll share the Ref picture via PM's.)



Duchess's New Companion MxF/Futa



The giant Sundial located in the center of the town square finally cast its shadow over Sarah Avelera'derin Bertors Phadile as she sat in her carriage watching the merchant ships go by. There were more than usual for the late days of summer, likely because the violent storms out in the midst of the never-ending ocean made sure no traces of the voyagers would ever be found. The merchants who had graciously set foot on "dry" land for what they claimed was the first time in months looked considerably malnourished. Their food stocks were not that good either, for instead of the barrels full of salmon shipped all the way from Narin there were just a few buckets that could, at the very least, feed a family of three.



Sarah did not blame the merchants, having seen the city turned into a sandy wonderland less than a month. The sand was certainly pretty to look and matched the marble palace that acted as her home but by the time the massive sandstorm swooped in, it became clear it was not going to be ordinary summer. Sarah had seen plenty of sandstorms in Telia the Port City of Kingdom of Al'jahar in which she acted as the city's governess, but before then she never knew what kind of havoc the season could wreak upon the city. Thankfully, those harsh days were gone, giving way for the first few weeks of autumn, yet a stifling sensation still remained in the air. That could not stop Sarah from coming down to the docks every day ever since she was given the title and key to the port, keeping an eye out for all manner of ships that dared to take shelter here. One could find anyone in Telia, from slaves and servants of all shapes and sizes to mercenaries and representatives of noble houses and Magistrate's Orders. Everyone appeared here. Yet they could only stay with Sarah's approval. And even today One of such ships visited the docks it's red sails and the unmistakable shape of a dragon's head serving as a figurehead, dubbed the "Red Dragon" a peculiar and breathtaking view indeed.



Intrigued by the decorations of the ship itself the Duchess of Telia quickly gave them permission to dock in their city. Telia. To some cradle of sea trade of Al'jahar to others even the beginning of the whole kingdom. Sarah herself didn't really ponder much at such questions. She knew her position and was finally pleased that no one here dared to use her full name which itself had more titles than she herself had years of governing this land.

Soo. Normally I was the one playing the duchess in the past but that's not the case anymore. I'd like to go the other way around with you playing as the Duchess while I'm the one that ends up as her partner.



I want to have a relationship which will include you being older and my character being younger. I know it's a bit of a strange dynamic but Lately, I have a fantasy of someone ending up under older woman's wing, treated like a loving mother would her child while still copulating with one another. So props if you can play someone maternal, possessive and whole gentle mommy kink along the way.



So if you're interested in playing as the Duchess or someone older to a younger character. Feel free to hit me up.

Well, no matter what you are I hope you're fine with both fast-paced, rough sex and slow-sensual lovemaking (And romance) as I'm hoping to have some story&smut alike. I have the idea of the plot already inside of my head so if you're interested in plaything this out.



Crimson Hooves Tribe MXF/Futa






You don't remember how you got here. Were you running? Fighting for you life? it didn't matter anymore. Tonight you knew you would be one of them. Willingly or not.



They watched as you struggled in your binds, trying to break the rope tied around your wrists and around a thick wooden spear impaled into the ground. Sweat dripped over your naked frame as the cool night air kissed your tan skin. As your barely noticeable muscles flexed whenever you moved, the toned canyons and valleys tensing and relaxing as once again you tried to break free.



Your body glimmered in the moonlight, your hair a complete mess over all the struggles and attempts to free yourself. Torches were lit all around you, the light illuminating the area and letting you see the predicament you found yourself in. Several bulls stood surrounding you in a circle of sorts on two hooves, their bull-like appearance both causing fear and arousal from their large breasts or cocks to match.



They seemed to be curious about you, watching you squirm in your binds. They each were different in size and stature, different in fur colour but looked healthy and comfortable. Some were brimming with masculinity, reeking of it off of their black, brown, and white fur. Others more feminine clearly here to care for their much stronger warriors. You could tell which ones were the alphas of the group which were the males or females, by the way they stood and remained silent, watching you with a hungry gaze in their eyes. Yet they didn't move to ravage you. No. They waited and waited.



All of them were different when it came to their body art; everything from the expressive piercing down to different dyes and paints that covered their furs in intricate patterns. Some had piercings looped around their nipples while others had rings wrapped around one or each horn. They seemed to be content with their barely covered bodies, each of their loincloths barely leaving anything to the imagination. The bull that was closest to you seemed to be wearing the most; a ceremonial looking garb that covered her lower body only a tiny bit modestly than the others, but had a lively body paint that combined a sequence of different colors.



Apart from them all around were curious looking tents that had several different ornaments that clinked in the wind. The tents were not crude by any means but seemed to be simple enough that they could be torn down and moved if need be. Some of the people stepped out of their tents to watch the spectacle that was going on, interest scrawled across their face.



Hearing the hushed whispers between the different tribesmen and tribeswomen, you began to train your ears on the deep basses coming from those monsters. Knowing that all minotaurs once came from civilized worlds their language was nowhere different from yours. Allowing you to listen easily. Yet before you can even focus on that the bull closest to you gently takes your pain into her large thick fingers, her just as large tongue plunged into your mouth. Tasting you greedily while her hands go down to your snatch. A single finger diving deep inside of you.



Exploring your body...

Bulls, cows, bovines. Moo! Yikes. Never seen much beastmen/women esque RP's in a more fantasy setting. And since Vermintide 2 announced they're doing a new DLC I wanted to do something with the wilder side of Warhammer universe. Though I mentioned Warhammer I'm not looking to play out in that universe at all.



All I'm looking for is for a partner that is both willing to indulge into a smutty fun with me where We'll be taking turns in playing victims and captors alike. Don't get me wrong, I love transforming people but I'd like to play the victim at times as well.


Big plus if you're into.

Anomalies during transformation. (Futanari, multiple breasts, lactation etc.)

Playing as someone dominant, submissive or switchy. (Playing as a female against minotaur, playing as a female minotaur against male, playing as minotaur against minotaur etc.)

Exploring a little more and writing a little about the world not only about the sex itself. (Worldbuilding, plot. General sense of doing something/trying to achieve something rather than just constant "I fuck ur pussy uwu." on repeat. Also please let's not RP like that.)

Overall being prepared for long-term rather than short-term. (While I'm open to short-term scene I will really answer first to people that are up for long-term.)




She-Wolf Claiming Her fresh Spoils of War. MXF/Futa




Gold-pinned eyes narrow. Slow. Glacial. Ten men, throwing back chairs, drawing sidearms or hefting oblong monomolecular picks. They use them to cut ore samples, I'm told. This is a mine, so that makes sense. It was a mine. The Terran Confederation owns this asteroid. We may be close enough to the rimworlds for that to seem like a joke, but look at me. Do I look like I'm laughing?

She's six feet tall. On Old Earth, they'd have called her an Olympian. The female form, moulded to the heights of athleticism. Perfect proportions, angular jaw, long legs. The right side of her scalp is shaved to stubble. The rest is a tangled mane of loose blonde locks and long braids. Feathers, rings of bone, carnivorous teeth. Her eyes are gold, pinned black. They aren't sane eyes. They aren't kind eyes.

There's a word etched in her breastplate above her heart with the point of a knife. A name. Her name.

From the neck down, you're all business. The nuclear generator throbbing like a second, deeper heartbeat near the small of your back runs the show. Janissary gear, though all the old badges and icons have been sand-blasted off. Artificial muscle-fibers hum with power. Servos purr with oiled, lovingly-maintained perfection. Injection ports near your ribs dump enough artificial adrenaline into your blood to make your jaw tighten. Adrenaline. Coagulants. Muscle Relaxers. Painkillers. In the time it takes for the first sidearm to swing in your direction, you're lightning caged in human flesh. A frozen bar of distilled anger, clad in power armour and vibrating faintly. You are shining teeth and the beast that hunted man to the brink of species death when Old Earth turned in the grip of blizzards that could level mountains.



Your cunt soaks through your bodysuit. Eradix is a godsend of a stimulant. It makes the alterations to one's libido worth it, if barely. Your clitoris is so hard that every beat of your heart scrapes it against fabric. Your insides clench upon nothing, tight enough to bruise themselves. They don't stop, either.

And people thought that muscle relaxers sounded like a stupid addition to a combat mix. Shows what they know.



The Vessor 12 at your hip comes free. Your arm levels. Your elbow doesn't lock, but your armour does. A solid-slug reduces that first poor imbecile to pink mist and an iron stink from his navel up. The world ratchets back into focus. They move like drunks. One comes at you from the left. You bat his arm aside and it snaps his wrist like dry kindling. You step into him, powering your elbow into his skull. The impact kills him instantly. He doesn't have time to scream. You can smell them. Urine and panic. A solid round or two glance from your breastplate. Another smacks you in the hip. Someone with enough cash to spring for laser weaponry tries their luck. Stupid. That shit hardly works when the only impediment is somebody's dress shirt.

Six beats of your heart, and it's over. All dead. All except for me. You bare your teeth. Elongated canines match your eyes. Lupine. There's wolf inside of you. Some people call it superstitious nonsense. Some people say you're meddling.



You can hear a human heartbeat through a closed door, and smell cordite from upwind and two miles off. You know your place in the pack without a word. You know where your brothers and sisters hunt from instinct. The pack. The war-clan. Tribalism refined to a killing-art. Flesh bred and shaped for war, then sold to the highest bidder. Janissary life, a lifetime ago. Most don't get the choice to leave. Most don't live that long. Another few decades, and your hair might start to gray. That's a joke you'd probably actually laugh at.



"This asteroid-"



I add, quick to meet your sharp gaze. Eyes, keen. Cautious. I'm young. Way younger than the rest of those you've just taken care of. Perhaps eighteen or slightly more. My skin pale.



"This asteroid and her bounty are the lawful property of the Terran Confederacy. Your friends did not believe themselves beholden to those laws. Your friends are dead. You are not dead, because your hands are empty."



I can see that you're close to hyperventilating. You've soaked through your bodysuit twice now. You need more. Friction. Another joke. What You need is to slap your pussy until it is red-raw, swollen, and aching. Then, if you're lucky, you'll have burned enough of the battle-poison out of your veins to consider something other than fighting or fucking. Your head tilts. It is the barely-angled gesture of a carnivore regarding something curious.



Your lips peel back from your teeth. Your smile is a shark's smile. The broad baring of interlocking daggers in the moment before they gape wide and drag me screaming and pleading into the abyss. "My crew will make an example. A decimation. One in ten. You will live. You will crawl to me on your hands and knees." You're sweating, even though the recycled air here is cold enough to warrant thermal gear in portions of the rock. Your codpiece, through your own tampering, is the easiest part of your gear to remove. Six adamantite buckles, a pair of needle-thin data jacks, and the vulcanized covering that fits it securely to the rest of your wargear.



Soaked fabric and the cloying aroma of soaked pussy. Female. Woman. Combat-hot and frenzied. The temperature of the room actually makes it steam. "You will use your mouth," You finish, your voice rumbling out of your chest in a hungry, wet snarl...




So I think I'll end it here for now!
« Last Edit: March 20, 2019, 09:56:06 am by CarelessWanderer »

Offline CarelessWandererTopic starter

Re: [Multi-Paragraph][PM's][NSFW][MxF] Looking for a long-term partner!
« Reply #1 on: March 18, 2019, 06:21:02 am »
I have added two new possible ideas for the story! This time something for Transformation fans and/or Fantasy theme fans!


This time all of the ideas below are up for discussion about characters and theme and of course if We want to play it out just like I portrayed it in my writing sample or if We'd like to create something new similar to this!


Lactose Intolerant: A Futa Were-cow Story (Anthro, Transformation)


((This is a concept I was thinking of and thought you might enjoy it. We can discuss the details, you can reply directly to this post, or you can enjoy it as its own stand-alone transformation story. Either way, hope you enjoy!))

You rush to your friend's bathroom, shutting and locking the door, and leaning against it as you heave every breath, looking down at your body that felt like it was on fire. You think back to a few moments ago, you had let your guard down. You were having so much fun with your friend that you didn't even question the bowl of ice cream she laid out in front of you and you took a bite without thinking. Problem is that you're lactose intolerant...well, it's much worse than that...Much much worse.

It was only a bite, surely it wasn't enough to...Nevermind, your normally B-cup sized breasts began to strain your bra and caused the straps to dig into your shoulders while the first two buttons to pop off your shirt, revealing cleavage that certainly wasn't there before. Meanwhile, your hips start to pop a little wider and your thighs and ass started to thicken, causing your pant buckle to pop open and your zipper to force itself open just to make what little room it had. Shit! Not here! Not now! You moaned softly as the start of tears start to appear on your shirt and jeans.

"Hey! Is everything alright in there?" Your friend asks you through the door. You're forced to cover your mouth, the pressure of your growth causing you to involuntarily moan as your curves continued to grow, causing your shirt to uncover your midriff and pop more buttons while your jeans to start ripping along the crack of your fattening ass. You gasped as you felt your clit, growing longer and thicker, starting to tent your panties along with a pair of golf-ball sized balls at their base, giving you a quite noticeable manly bulge beneath the soft silk fabric. You felt the start of a tail start to slip out from the base of your spine through the rip in your pants, your ears start to flatten, small nubby horns starting to poke up out of your hair, and a second pair of mounds starting to grow beneath your first set, which were already bigger than the largest porn-stars. You even noticed you stood at least foot taller than before.

"Do I need to call an ambulance for you?" She asks again and you nearly answer before you're forced to hold your mouth once more, moaning harder as your whole body has another powerful growth spurt, your feeble tattered clothes unable to hold on much longer before four huge bouncing udders burst free from the remnants of your shirt and bra, each one with a nipple as long and thick as your thumbs as the first drops of milk start to drip onto the hard tile floor, and the back of your pants fails first as an ass so thick that it would make the Kardashians gasp rips out of its denim prison along with your flicking tail and overly voluptuous thighs. Your former clit, now a mottled bull shaft with a flared head, tore your panties in two, bulging larger and larger as your balls reach the size of apples. Your fingers harden in your hoove-like hands while your shoes and socks shred to pieces as two large hooves take the place of your feet.

"What's going on in there?" She asks one last time as you practically moo out loud as the final growth spurt takes place, you reach eight feet tall as a thick fur covered hide starts to spread over your body, your face stretching forward into a cow-like muzzle with a large flat nose and large flat teeth, your horns growing five inches long, and your ears long and fuzzy. Your enormous jugs growing until they were each the size of a yoga ball with three inch, bottle-cap thick nipples that splashed warm milk onto the floor, your cock was nearly three feet long and thick as a soda can at its thickest point, thick heavy balls the size of swinging bowling balls, ass-cheeks the size of bean-bag chairs, hips nearly twice as wide as the doorway, thighs as thick as tree trunks, and great heavy hooves clacking against the hard tile beneath you.

"Hello? I'm coming in..." Your friend warns as the door starts to creak open and her sweet feminine scent starts to fill your enlarged nostrils...

And that's about it! As always feel free to PM me if interested!



Calling All Women Sellswords, Beserkers, Amazons, Valkyries, Spearwives and Shieldmaidens!




You’ve all heard of the [Guys Smash Girls Shoot](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GuysSmashGirlsShoot) trope before, right? It’s the general idea that, given a male/female pairing in any kind of combat partnership, the male character will likely be the one in melee combat while the female character will be the one with the bow/gun/spells. The idea makes sense as a creator, if only because people tend to get weird about women being hit and the ridiculously skimpy costumes most female characters get shoved poured into wouldn’t hold up for long in an actual fight.

My issue with it is that it’s just really boring.

I’d love to build a scene in a Skyrim or Witcher inspired world (giant swaths of untamed wilderness combined with metropolitan hives, please?) where the female part of this partnership is a heavily muscled warrior (with [this](https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/003/850/976/large/john-wallin-liberto-vikingwoman3.jpg?1477948750) or [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C-WgyflWsAAWoMa.jpg) as an inspiration. Though I have way more if you want to see them just tell me.)  and the male part is a decently-fit-but-squishy mage.

We can play in a world where magic is common and every town has a dedicated healer/white mage, or we can build a setting where magic is treated with distrust at the best and feared (like hunt-the-mage-with-pitchforks-and-torches feared) at worst.

Also, please don’t feel limited to playing a human here! I’d be more than OK with playing opposite a fiery dwarven lass, an elven berserker, or even an orc sellsword.

Here are a few ideas for general plots:

  • We’re both hired to hunt down a group of bandits or group of marauders who are harassing trade routes.
  • We stumble upon the same refuge during a major storm in the wilderness (perhaps a cave leading to a natural hot spring) and have to take shelter for the duration.
  • One of us is the prisoner of the other when a much larger foe shows up. The only option for survival? Freeing the prisoner and fighting our way out.
  • You’re found, heavily injured, outside a minor village. The well-meaning but clueless villagers bring you to the mage who is healing other townspeople, who just so happens to be the bounty you’re after.



The Lady of the Dark Tower.

You are never wrong. Immortal, nigh-invulnerable, imbued with the wisdom of centuries and the unchanging beauty You was at eighteen. But soon turned your appearance to that one of adult Queen. You have imposed order and law. You have dragged the masses kicking and screaming from superstition and given them something real to fear - your judgement. Their streets no longer stink of blood and offal. Roads of stone connect even the most unworthy hamlet with towering edifices of industry and commerce. By sword, by sorcery. With agriculture, science, and order, You have brought this land to heel.

And I repay you with rebellion.

You are never wrong. And yet. And yet...there, one of your greatest, broken before my champion with her flaming sword. On the right flank, a general sounds the retreat because it is the only way to prevent a total rout. On the left, the warlocks who ought to be drowning my troops in torrential downpours and washes of lightning are instead locked in conflict with my own spellcasters. At every turn, I counter you. Every stroke You make is matched, even anticipated. I'm every bit the genius they tout you as, aren't I? If you let me, I'm actually going to win.

The great eye crowning the face of your tower, a soaring creation that would dwarf some cities, explodes. It draws every eye, as do yours. In the silence, men and woman cease their struggles. You stalk the open air, speaking words of power. Your robes billow. Your blood turns to fire. You feel your wards flaring. My magic-weavers, at least, are wise enough to know what comes. They're terrified, but ultimately insignificant. You have striven greatly. First, to treat with me. To act as the diplomat. To give my uprising a chance to be heard. I chose this path. You silence half of my magi with a word. Their hearts burst within them, and the left flank surges in your favour. You fling your hand to the heavens. The sky darkens, and thunderheads flock to your beckoning palm.

My soldiers uphill battle becomes impossible. You pour rain and hail, battering unarmoured men and leaving the rest to struggle through thick mud. The winds howl, and lightning splits the sky in two, striking the siege weapons that have reinforced my advance and leaving smoking kindling and the unfortunate dead when their retina-searing flash dissipates. You dive, carried by the gale. You take me clear out of my saddle. Again, You are surprised by me.

You knew that I'm touted as attractive, but even your supposedly cold and black heart warms a touch at the sight of those eyes and surprisingly soft face. More impressive is that You've only sheared away my helmet. You meant to take my head clean off and end this at a stroke. There is so much hate in my blue eyes. You nearly forget to parry my stroke. Nearly. For a full minute, You rain blows and sweep aside each masterful riposte. I never manage so much as a scratch. This was never going to be easy. Your sword licks through my guard, and opens my armour along the ribs. I stagger, and the next stroke rips my sword from numb fingers. The point meets my throat.

"Yield." Your voice has driven men to give you everything they possess, before swearing their lives in fealty. You need not even imbue it with sorcery, though that You have in abundance. Black-armoured troops have us surrounded now, baying for my blood. Howling like animals. You will admit to being caught in their tumult, allowing that rare expression of emotion to hold you as it does them. It has been decades since You took to the field, and longer still since a victory required it. All around us, my army is being decimated yard by bloody yard. Their Lady has taken the field. Defeat is impossible. They fall upon my men like ravenous dogs. You trust their officers to forestall the worst slaughters before this becomes an atrocity.

I spit upon you. It is warm, upon your cheek. That I managed it from my knees is impressive. Your sword-arm moves, and my world goes black.

I awaken, clad in nothing. A gown waits for me, fitted perfectly and bedecked in stones that compliment my natural attractivness. I disdain it, of course. I know where I'm. I know who keeps me. The welt beneath my hair is mending faster than it ought to be. A gift, courtesy of the pommel of your sword. You're honestly not sure why, until my chamber door is thrown open by the man stood outside it, and you're struck nearly dumb by my bared form. If you told me how long it had been since you felt the smallest stirring of passion within you, I would call you a liar. Most would. Your flesh is pale as starlight, your hair darker than primal sin, my eyes the green of jade that has never been unburied.

You are dressed in a skirt of mail, leggings and a cuirass of finely tooled leather with gloves to match. The shirt beneath is a match to your eyes. Your sword is belted at your hip. You come garbed for war, as if to meet me as the conqueror I expect. You're afraid your enraptured expression rather defeats that intention. "Leave us," You murmur, gesturing to the expressionless figure beyond the door. He bows curtly, draws the portal shut, and withdraws. He never even glances at me. Contrary to proper belief, You've always found firm discipline and adequate reward to inspire loyalty better than fear or respect.

You feel ill-equipped. It takes you long seconds even to identify the notion. The dry feeling of your mouth. The leaden nature of a tongue that has been likened to that of a viper. You steel yourself, and adopt a congenial smile and a tone to match. "You are captured," You tell me. "And your army beaten. A few hold-outs remain, and a rescue attempt was made - But, as you've noticed, it wasn't successful. I haven't quite decided what to do with you. A formal declaration of your surrender, yes? That would stop a great deal of bloodshed. You're no fool. You know the last thing your people need is to have their homelands become hotbeds of insurgency. End this, now. Send your soldiers home to their families."

Your heartbeat should not be so very fast. You've drawn closer, a palm shut upon the pommel of your sword. You've no intent to draw it. In fact, you believe that if you release it, you might be tempted to touch me. You glance to the bed. "At the very least, for your own sake, would you consider wearing something more than your own skin?" Even the greatest of magic cannot entirely abate the might of the natural word. Winter is coming swiftly, and the winds roar this high up. The air is brisk, despite the fire roaring in my hearth. You are almost given the inclination to avert your eyes from my form. That it exists at all only heightens my unease, though I recognize it as no fault of my own. My silence, more than the rest, disconcerts you. "Well?" You snap, suddenly the imperious tyrant. "Speak!"



Bedding the two Queens. Mx Multiple F/Futa


Two Queens vie for control of my royal shaft, bathing my length slick with their saliva as their tongues wrestle around my cock - each of the two desperately seeking to be the one who has the honor to bring pleasure to their lord-husband. I settle them, running my hands soothingly through the locks of their elegantly coiffed hair, encouraging my Queenly wives to play nice with one another. Soon enough they purr like contented kittens, passionately kissing their counterpart with only the hefty girth of my shaft separating them.

With my Queens sufficiently tamed, my hand returns down the bodice of the Royal Sorceress - a dignified dark elf of a thousand years, who I often deign to bring down a few notches. Her delightful squirming suggests that I've inserted one of those enchanted gems that buzz enthusiastically with magic into her rear. Amusing as it is to see her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at her public anal humiliation, You've heard how she screams when I plow her ass in the dead of night. Perhaps a little preparation would do her good, after all.

You strut towards the throne, elegant heels clacking against the marble floor, your chest straining against the tight constraints of your pale white dress. Ever since I took the throne and had the Sorceress take over managing the Kingdom's water, the bodies of every woman in the realm have swelled to voluptuous splendor. You were a beauty in your own youth, but now each curve and contour of your own body is flush with luscious delight - your breasts like massive globes of firm flesh that I so delight in burying my head between.

The Queens hardly look up to you as you sink down to your knees before me, your own tongue joining the pair already bathing my slick and wet. Out of respect for your place as the Queen Mother, they even allow you to take me fully into your mouth - my tip pressing into the tightness of your throat.

But, servicing me with your mouth is not on today's agenda - as much as you enjoy throating your own son. You stand up to your full height, trailing your white-gloved finger up my shaft as you rise, before hiking up your dress and sitting back on my lap - letting my cock push into your tight, waiting sex.

My seed hasn't taken in the many nights since I took the throne, but you are not too old yet to provide me an heir. The thought alone provokes a moan from your lips as you bounce firmly on my cock, your breasts quaking with the culmination of each movement. You feel my hands undo the straps to your dress, letting the front fall away to reveal your massive rack to the throne room.

Peasants are filing in, their heads bowed as their King takes his own mother on the throne - having you ride me like a whore desperate for my seed. My Queens have their own thrones, but they often sit upon the arms of my own to lay their bodies against me. Each of you is easily twice my age, perhaps even twice my size now that your forms are so full-bodied, but you all live to serve me - as does every woman in the Kingdom.




MxFuta focused prompt


"So, you want to be an adventurer? I can't blame you. Fame, fortune, and excitement are around every corner. But first, we should talk about your options."

I look at him with expectations. Wondering what he has to suggest.

"You could do the normal thing; join an adventuring guild, get a party, risk your life and limb, and hope that you live long enough to get all that fame and wealth."

I nod eagerly, clutching the small metal baton low level clerics often begin with.

"Or, you could go with Helga. That's her, over there," I see her the woman almost as tall as I'm standing while sitting, with red hair, in the leather bra, covered in muscles, and currently draining her third tankard of ale.


"Helga is a killing machine."


She doesn't really 'fight' as much as hack her enemies to pieces.


"Helga doesn't need an adventuring party,"

Just a partner to ride with her and cast a healing spell on her occasionally when some lucky bastard actually manages to hit her with something seconds before his death.

"Helga gets quests when someone wants immediate, if not graceful or subtle, results...But that's just the first half of it. Really, as her 'partner'..."


I've got a much more important job; Drain. Her. Balls. I can't see it from where I'm  but Helga has a dick as thick, round, and long as a cleric's mace and a bulge in her loin cloth as subtle as a paladin trying to sneak around plate mail. Obviously in town Helga has access to whores and 'fans' but on the road, she needs a steady spear polisher to see to her needs.

"Helga is, for the most part, as amiable and friendly as you could hope for any adventuring partner to be, but she has...expectations."


If I'll neglect her too long she'll take what she needs since I'm not 'pulling my weight.' Also, she can be a bit prickly if she feels I'm being rude otherwise. She'll shove me down and have her way with me, using every rank of her ride skill on my holes.

Why doesn't she search for female partners than? Simple. There are a dozen pregnant sluts in this city who can testify both to her potency and her unwillingness to pull out.

"Now why would you agree to that?"

You'll get more than a split of the loot. In the past she managed to let her slu....healer to have a fifth. But given the circumstances and her "needs" You'll get half which is what you'd normally wouldn't get if fighting in an adventuring party. There's a catch though to get the half of the reward. You have to get to worship her cock, muscles and ass which she calls a 'bonus.'

"Anyway, the choice is yours."

Everything up to discussion!




Another prompt of mine! Healslut focused one!

I kept Emeraude around for two reasons. One, she was the best damn healer I’d ever had. She kept everybody in one piece and patched me up after combat with loving care, making sure that I were always fighting fit.

Two, she sucked cock like an absolute champ. She was good at it, and she loved it, which was kind of like killing two birds with one stone. I’d never before met someone as willing to drop to her knees and fellate my oversized member, plunging it down her throat as she needily grasped at my hips and let out a muffled wail of joy, the vibrations shuddering down my cock as she slurped at it eagerly. It was the first time I’d met a slut who, when warned of my impending orgasm, simply gave me a thumbs up and impaled herself even deeper on my cock, stretching out her throat as tears of painful pleasure dripped from her wide, rolling eyes. Nobody else had ever been able to make me cum so hard that I saw stars, letting out a roar of satisfaction and grabbing her head to slam my cock further inside, pumping rope after rope of thick, piping hot cum directly down her throat as she greedily gulped it down with a rapturous expression on her sticky, drooling face.

I was never really sure why, but healing me always seemed to turn her on, especially when I thanked her for it. Hollering “Hey, thanks!” or “Nice job!” in the middle of a fight would elicit weird, strangled squeals from her. She would be red-faced and panting by the time each battle ended, and though she did her job dutifully, it only took the slightest suggestion to have her leaping for my cock as if it were the most delicious thing on the planet.

And it seemed that to her, it was. Whenever she was finished, lying half-naked in the grass with her bulging tits covered in my sticky semen, her breath fluttering unevenly as she blew bubbles through my cum, an almost obsessive smile always draped itself across her face as she lay, legs spread whorishly apart. You could see how wet this made her, drenched undergarments on full display as her body twitched and she giggled detachedly.

But whenever I made to go further than this, she stopped me. “No, no,” she would say, suddenly snapping back to reality as I reached out to caress her crotch. “We can’t do that! Please!” And, well, her blowjobs were so good that I shrugged it off. I always wanted to fuck her, though. To see that thick, round ass bouncing on my cock, to hear her sweet voice screaming to ecstasy beyond ecstasy as I swept aside her defenses and rammed her deeper than she ever could have imagined…

So I got her drunk. Not to take advantage, see. Just to loosen her lips, to find out why she was so willing to take my cock inside her mouth but not her pussy. And, well, did that ever work! What she confessed confirmed a few sneaking suspicions I had had about her, uh, proclivities, but also opened my eyes to a new way forward.

“Oh, but I don’t deserve it!” she wailed, slamming an empty tankard down on the table and hiccuping as she waved for another. There were tears in the elf’s eyes as she continued, talking far too loudly even for the bustling inn that you had dragged her to. “I ffff… love your cock,” she slurred. “You know that, ‘ight?”

“Yes, yes I do! Just keep it down!” I hissed, cringing as the halflings at the next table gave the pair of us a sideways glance.

“Shorry!” she giggled, switching to an exaggerated stage whisper that somehow seemed even louder. “But I do! I love sucking your magic wand. When I heal you, I get … *hic* tingly. And it makes me so huckin’ forny…” She frowned. “Shuckin’... cluckin’ horny. Thassit. So cluckn’ horny when you say ‘Nice save, Emeraude!’ or ‘Thanksh, healer’. Yanno. Isslike you um, I gotta have you right then. You get me?” She leaned forward, her glimmering green eyes pleading with me for shared understanding.

“Okay, okay!” I said, trying to calm her down with a placatory hand gesture as you became keenly aware that all the neighbouring tables were now listening with at least one ear. “I get it, I understand. But then… why won’t you, you know…”

“Fuck you!” Emeraude exclaimed, grinning proudly. Her robe had fallen open, displaying an amount of cleavage that was scandalous even for a sordid place like this.

“Uh, yes. That.” Suddenly I'm wondering if it was a good idea bringing her to such a public place.

“Cuzh I don’t deserve you,” she whimpered, her shoulders suddenly drooping as she slumped to the table, knocking over her empty tankard.

I rushed to catch it before it fell to the flagstones, and set it carefully back on the table, well away from her bosom, which was by now aggressively spilling across the wood, barely contained by her robe. “Em, what are you talking about? You do a great job, you deserve just as much as any other member of the party. Even if that is, uh… you know.”

“Mmnope.” She shook her head, pouting like a child. “I have to *hic* earn it! The blowjobs’re my reward, see. You know I don’t like gold, I like ccccock.” She drew the last word out lasciviously, her ruby-red lips wrapping seductively around the single syllable before spitting it out.

It was true. She never took more than the bare minimum needed to survive from the party’s rewards. Paid for her food and necessities, kept her equipment maintained, and that was it. I always gave her magic items that nobody else could use, and though she protested, she always sucked my cock with extra devotion after dividing the spoils, milking you dry long into the night. “So if you like my cock that much, why not let me fuck you?” I pressed her, frustration evident on my face.

Still pouting, Emeraude looked up at you, tears swimming in her eyes. “I don’t deserve iiiiiit!” she wailed.

That was all I got out of her before she fell asleep at the table halfway through her next ale. Carrying her up to a room, I sat myself down in a chair next to her and thought long and hard. Concentrating was difficult, with her voluptuous form carelessly draped across the bed just inches from me. Even under her loose robes, I could see the maddening curves of her body, rising and falling as she slowly began snoring. Her cascading, jet-black hair a match made in heaven with her olive-brown skin, she was the picture of erotic beauty as she lay, unguarded. It would have been so easy to take her right there, but I wanted something more. Something meaningful for both me and her, not a drunken, half-conscious roll in the hay that she may or may not actually want.

No, my task now was to figure out what she meant by not ‘deserving’ to have sex with me… and then, obviously, to convince her that she did deserve it.



So! I kinda like the healslut dynamic, but don’t wanna mess around with the out-of-universe stuff. So what I want is to have a partner to play the healslut in a D&D-style adventuring party, taking place completely within a universe of magic and monsters. Ideally this would play out over a fair stretch of time, both irl and in-universe. I’m also not really into the crueler side of this fetish, so I’m not interested in scenarios where one of us screws up and have to be punished. Because we’re not actually playing in a video game, there’s no respawns, so death is a serious thing and not a minor mistake that’s worth two spanks and a cock-slap.

If you're open to changing the elves look or even switching dynamic to playing as submissive tankslut with dominant healer perhaps even looking as  a tall, sexy and hung futa then you go to the front of the line, as does anybody who wants to and understand, how to play to properly form a symbiotic relationship between an overly eager healslut/tankslut and her partner. I expect you have a good idea of Em’s personality (or at least her drunk personality) from the prompt, so I hope anyone who comes forward will be aware of the kinks hidden in the prompt.

As for the rest of the Idea I'd like to talk about it in PM's


Anyway, I’d love to hear from you! Let me know your thoughts and ons and off's and we can explore some fantasies together!
« Last Edit: March 20, 2019, 09:59:09 am by CarelessWanderer »

Offline CarelessWandererTopic starter

Four new ideas added!