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Author Topic: (M looking for F) Search for a new Partner.  (Read 387 times)

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Offline CarelessWandererTopic starter

(M looking for F) Search for a new Partner.
« on: April 01, 2019, 06:11:34 AM »
Looking for a partner!

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/Ask for my discord/Threads etc!
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.


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

Still in the process of making those, for now when messaging me do let me know about your own On's and Off's!


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!



Status: Open.

Pairing: Male Elf/Human Mercenary XxX Female (Any) Mercenary.

Writing sample possible idea below.


(Really craving some minotaur-like partner!)

My hands cling to the rough bark of the flimsy oak. Little patches of moonlight work their way through the gaps in the emerald green leaves, illuminating the thin branches that slowly bend under my weight. My entire body is vibrating from the stampede of fighters that runs under me, shaking the already weak oak back and forth. I close my eyes in agony as blood runs from the arrow wound in my leg, hoping that the glistening red liquid will not run too far down the tree and give my position away. I feel the tree sway and bend beneath my weight, the leaves swishing in the wind. One of my hands grazes sharply against the bark as the tree gives a particularly violent jerk. I let go and open my eyes quickly as I realize that now I am dangling by one arm and one leg from the tree.
Yet as I hear the horn I can't help but feel the steely glint of excitement in my red eyes.

Some could say that the work of a mercenary doesn't fit an elf like me. That I'm "too" pretty to be in the heat of battle. I suppose that could be true.

The wind picks up, bringing with it rain that pours down in sheets and patters off of the leaves. I don’t know how many minutes I have been grasping this tree, but my hand and leg are numb from the loss of blood and I am becoming woozy already. Whether it be from the wound I can hear the familiar roar and sudden wave of heavy steps coming this way. I peer down at the figures fighting beneath me. Both members of the Lord Targons Militia and simple outlaws battling one another shedding blood in this very forest. I let go of the oak, dropping down on top of one of the outlaws with one of my daggers already buried deep into his back, my legs vibrated from the impact against the ground yet before I'm ready to look up I can feel your hand over my shoulder once again.

I can't help but smile and close my eyes again.

The familiar scent of baked pork, low-quality alcohol and horrible yet amusing in its own way echo of militants singing somewhere in the distance all adds up to the naughtiness of the current situation. I look down at you with most of my attire already down on the ground beside you. Before slowly pulling down them the waistline to fully expose my just as eager and throbbing manhood. Slipping my fingers inside of your snatch I take a moment to spread the soft pinkish inner walls of your sex to give myself one good look before slowly descending to swallow my fat slab of meat with it. I can't help grunt satisfied as I feel my hard length spreading your Ladyhole's inner walls.

I take your hands for support before bucking my hips back and forth. Feeling your just as hungry cunt clamping down onto my meat just to keep it still to get my spunk inside of you. Quickly I go for your lips, plunging my tongue inside of yours to being just as a passionate and wild exchange between both of us.

A little about my character.

Valron Rimmhorn is the first born child of Lord Rimmhorn of Amerathaia, who sits highly in the Hall of Waystalkers in the capital city of Zagold. Being the first born, he was intended to take over his father's considerable estates and fortunes, but in a surprising turn of events, his father who had a rather old mindset decided that his second born, Valron's half-brother would be his named heir.

Valron was shipped off to train as a Waystalker in the far north of the Amerthian Realms at the tender age of eight. Having spent most of his life in the harsh north, Valron has grown into a bold, outspoken warrior emboldened by the tenants and principles of the waystalker's Order, which are basically - 'Justice unto death, Honor till the end'. The Order of the Pale Queen is one of the many elven orders which worships some of the Old gods of the realm going as far as the Sherian Empire. Tolerated by the religious hierarchy and human Templars, for their skill in battle and tracking magic users, people tread lightly near the Order.

Valron isn't a waystalker of the order anymore, basically having just passed his oaths he chose to leave the bonds he was forced to follow by his father's desire. Choosing to live his life as a Mercenary on the road.

Valron is skilled with most handheld melee weapons but has mastered a slightly slimmer version of the longsword (Which is quite unusual for elves), which suits his lithe frame (Although in his newest mercenary service he rarely relies on the blade of such craftsmanship). Hee often can be seen wearing, simple leather armor, with the symbol of his order emblazoned on the shoulder in the form of a dying sun on a frozen landscape with a minature throne on top of it.

Valron, has his parent's attractivness, which is something that years of the harsh northern winters and brutal physical training of the order could not take away. He is lean and fit of form, because of his training, but it is easy to tell under all the layers of that armor lies a fully developed man in the prime of his life. He seems to harbor a certain distrust for magic users, especially the leashed mages owned by the church. His open disdain for the church and the templars is founded in some event he does not talk about. He often fondly speaks of his half-brother who has continued writing to him for all these years, even if his father has yet to recognize his existence.

He's a freelancer waystalker, following the code while not exactly being on his Orders (Or his father's) leash, allowing him to act freely and to further enforce the laws Elven waystalkers are famous for (Mostly tied to the protection of the forests and the nature itself) But due to his desertion he keeps his hair short (For now) as a mark of his disconnection from the other waystalkers.

The idea I had in mind at the moment.Smut&Story focused. Where I'll be playing some Elven Ranger. As for you? I do have a preference. It would be great if you would like to play as some sort of strong looking character. You know. Half-giants, Ogres, Minotauress or just Amazon-like human. Honestly, I just carve someone strong. Doesn't have to be muscular or tall but it would be a huge plus for me. Per usual. Limits none, Can write in third and first person. Long-term with worldbuilding aspects and good amount of smut&action. Roleplaying only via Reddit and with 3-6+ (Or more paragraphs) per reply.

Status:Open


Pairing: Male Sorcerer XxX Female Black Knight.

Writing sample possible idea below.

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.


Status: Open

Pairing Male Adventurer XxX Female healer

Writing sample possible idea below.


The city was a lively place. Specks of dirt and foul-smelling mist hung in the air. Money jangled in pockets and glinted in the sunlight as a million silver coins passed between a thousand hands. The dirt streets had been either packed down into clay or else churned into a slurry by day-old rainwater and wagon wheels. Buildings rose up to ten times the height of a man, with well-polished wooden catwalks running between them, several levels off the ground. On these paths, men and women of wealth and power strutted over the roads. Above them, great colorful birds perched on rooftops, picking at each other, tending to nests or simply staring as if in awe at the man-made jungle that surrounded them.


But that's not the important part.


I kept Eldrike 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 I 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, Eldrike!’ 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!” Eldrike 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.


“Becuzh 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, Eldrike looked up at me, 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.
« Last Edit: April 13, 2019, 11:32:34 PM by CarelessWanderer »