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Sadiah
Moon
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2021
About me:
Female
Long term writer
Relatively new RPer
Located in SW US
In an open relationship
2 cats, 1 dog
About my roleplay:
3rd Person preferred
Varied post length, from 1-2 paragraphs to novella length
At least 1 response a week, usually more. Please be patient, it takes me awhile to write and sometimes my muse needs to ponder things.
Frequent OOC communication
PMs or Threads
Ghost away, I understand and do not hold ill feelings. Hit me up when/if you get back.
Typically play straight or bisexual females with a heavy leaning towards male preference
Female
Long term writer
Relatively new RPer
Located in SW US
In an open relationship
2 cats, 1 dog
About my roleplay:
3rd Person preferred
Varied post length, from 1-2 paragraphs to novella length
At least 1 response a week, usually more. Please be patient, it takes me awhile to write and sometimes my muse needs to ponder things.
Frequent OOC communication
PMs or Threads
Ghost away, I understand and do not hold ill feelings. Hit me up when/if you get back.
Typically play straight or bisexual females with a heavy leaning towards male preference
This is the last post from a roleplay that got interrupted by a ghosting. In this post my main character is being forcibly changed into a succubus by a demon named Hogni.
Isabella was beyond tired. For the last few nights her dreams had been exhausting ones. Every night she woke several times during the night aching and pulsing between her thighs, sheets soaked with pussy juice and sweat. Outside of her apartment, she never once thought of sex. Inside her apartment, it was all she could think of. But the dreams were the worst. Terribly vivid dreams of invisible hands touching her. Invisible cocks filling her – all of her at once. Horrible dreams of her lying naked, sprawled out on an altar, on a gravestone, in the middle of a stadium. Always with the sensation of people around her, staring at her nakedness. It felt terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. At first she worried and fretted over the sudden intense dreams and feelings. Was she losing her mind? Was she having a breakdown? What was going on with her? But an hour on Google satisfied her that she was having them because of all the new changes in her life, the burst of creativity inspired by her classes, and, of course, the lack of sex. Lack of sex had never bothered her before. She wasn't a virgin, but so far her very few sexual experiences had left her rather unimpressed. It was a lot of sweaty, awkward groping and thrusting, and was over all too quickly. Sometimes, not quick enough. But Google assured her these dreams were normal, and she accepted that.
It didn't make it any easier, though. Especially not the extra laundry. Laundry she was doing now at 9:30 at night, numb with exhaustion. Finally, she was able to pull her dry – and clean – bedlinens from the dryer and head up the elevator. All she wanted to do was make her bed and crawl into it and just….die. Every muscle and bone in her body felt heavy. And the closer she got to her apartment, the heavier she got. Even her brain was growing sluggish. So she never realized that the heaviness she was feeling was not normal exhaustion. Nor could she see or sense the magic billowing from her apartment as the demon wove his spells. She could barely open the door, and she was so fuzzy she was halfway across the living room to her bedroom when she stopped, freezing. Her walls were covered in glistening black symbols. Every inch of them marked with inky black confusing lines and swirls. The laundry basket dropped to the floor, clean sheets spilling out at her feet. She tried to turn, sensing SOMETHING approaching her from behind her. But she could not move, fastened into place with wide panicked eyes, struggling to breathe. A finger, pulsing with heat, traced her spine. Her skin prickled, her throat strained against a scream she could not release. Her heart thudded rapidly, trying to beat its way out of her chest and flee the source of this terror.
Escape was forbidden her. She was kept pinned into place by some invisible force as the finger grazed the top of her buttocks, followed the contour of her hips, a hot hand spreading across her belly. She could not see it, but she felt it. It was a large hand, frighteningly large. The fingers loosened from her skin, plucked at her gray tshirt. The material shredded under the faintest touch, melting from her body. Her yoga pants followed. Bra, panties. And she was naked. Defenseless. An appreciative hum in the air around her. "Delicious. I will make you more delicious, and then I will have you." The voice was deep and silky and terrifying.
Hot tears filled her eyes. Something massive and black moved in front of her, filling her vision. It was not a body, but it was. There was no muscles, no skin, no eyes, no mouth. Just the shape, made of a darkness she felt she could fall into. A darkness that oozed evil. "Open your mouth" The silky voice demanded and her frozen body responded. She screamed at herself to close her mouth. But her body refused to listen to her, mindlessly obeying the dark shadow. A small bottle of something black with tints of a vicious dark green in it was lifted, opened. "Drink, my pretty slut."
She drank as it was poured into her mouth. Tears poured down her cheeks. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever tasted. The voice chanted as she drank, horrifying sounds she did not understand the meaning of. The filth poured into her belly, sat heavy and hot in her stomach. Her stomach heaved, fighting to reject it. Even that was denied to her, the liquid insisting on staying right there in her belly. The heat spread and grew more intense, until her blood ran so hot it hurt. She was dying, she thought frantically. The pain turned to agony. Everywhere, inside, she was on fire. Her brain, her heart, her pussy, even her toes were on fire from the inside.
She screamed, howled in agony, but the sound never got past her mind. Her body refused to allow it as the thing watched. She FELT it's pleasure, a cruel vicious pleasure that knew the agony she was suffering and loved it. The chanting continued, but she could no longer focus on it. Everything was melding together into the oddest sensation she had ever had, one she could never begin to define. It was something of an exquisite pleasure mixed with the most horrific of pains. An intense physical longing, aching. Something utterly uncontrollable. And then she fell, her body released, the burning gone. She lay there, panting, drenched in sweat. Naked, her soft body quivering.
"Beautiful." The voice was a hiss above her, and she rolled her head weakly, her eyes blinking open. The shadow was still there, but within it was the most gloriously evil creature she had ever seen. It was hard to see it, to keep focused. He kept flickering, changing somehow. She had the impression of rippling muscles. A jagged, thrusting cock. Clawed hands. Barbs thrusting out of his naked back. Then the shadow was back, but more defined. And her focus shifted from the body to the cock. Her mouth watered.
Hogni looked down at his delectable creature with intense satisfaction. It was a very male satisfaction. He had stolen this delicious thing from the hunter, before the hunter even knew she was there. She had been beautiful before, he had wanted her since he first saw her. Had visited her in her dreams. But now she was irresistible. Her soft brown hair now sparkled with cinnamon highlights. Her bluegreen eyes of before were now alive with a seductive, tempting light. Her lips were softer. Wider. Lips that begged for a hard cock to be pushed between them. Her curves were softer, rounder. The small tits of before more plush, curving upwards temptingly. Her cunt was soft and permanently bare now, oozing with a musk that called to a man, hardened his cock. She was, in his opinion, the best he had created in a long time. And she was his. All his. The witches would want her, but would not have her. She belonged to Hogni now, and would follow his orders. She would do whatever he told her. Would fuck whoever, however, whenever he wanted her to.
Hogni knew what his first command would be. Who the first person she would fuck would be. "Spread." It was a simple command, but one the bitch at his feet welcomed. She moaned helplessly, lay back on the carpet before him and spread her legs. Long, sleek, inviting legs. He stepped between them, fisting his inky black cock, crouching and reaching out to touch that swollen, leaking cunt.
Isabella was beyond tired. For the last few nights her dreams had been exhausting ones. Every night she woke several times during the night aching and pulsing between her thighs, sheets soaked with pussy juice and sweat. Outside of her apartment, she never once thought of sex. Inside her apartment, it was all she could think of. But the dreams were the worst. Terribly vivid dreams of invisible hands touching her. Invisible cocks filling her – all of her at once. Horrible dreams of her lying naked, sprawled out on an altar, on a gravestone, in the middle of a stadium. Always with the sensation of people around her, staring at her nakedness. It felt terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. At first she worried and fretted over the sudden intense dreams and feelings. Was she losing her mind? Was she having a breakdown? What was going on with her? But an hour on Google satisfied her that she was having them because of all the new changes in her life, the burst of creativity inspired by her classes, and, of course, the lack of sex. Lack of sex had never bothered her before. She wasn't a virgin, but so far her very few sexual experiences had left her rather unimpressed. It was a lot of sweaty, awkward groping and thrusting, and was over all too quickly. Sometimes, not quick enough. But Google assured her these dreams were normal, and she accepted that.
It didn't make it any easier, though. Especially not the extra laundry. Laundry she was doing now at 9:30 at night, numb with exhaustion. Finally, she was able to pull her dry – and clean – bedlinens from the dryer and head up the elevator. All she wanted to do was make her bed and crawl into it and just….die. Every muscle and bone in her body felt heavy. And the closer she got to her apartment, the heavier she got. Even her brain was growing sluggish. So she never realized that the heaviness she was feeling was not normal exhaustion. Nor could she see or sense the magic billowing from her apartment as the demon wove his spells. She could barely open the door, and she was so fuzzy she was halfway across the living room to her bedroom when she stopped, freezing. Her walls were covered in glistening black symbols. Every inch of them marked with inky black confusing lines and swirls. The laundry basket dropped to the floor, clean sheets spilling out at her feet. She tried to turn, sensing SOMETHING approaching her from behind her. But she could not move, fastened into place with wide panicked eyes, struggling to breathe. A finger, pulsing with heat, traced her spine. Her skin prickled, her throat strained against a scream she could not release. Her heart thudded rapidly, trying to beat its way out of her chest and flee the source of this terror.
Escape was forbidden her. She was kept pinned into place by some invisible force as the finger grazed the top of her buttocks, followed the contour of her hips, a hot hand spreading across her belly. She could not see it, but she felt it. It was a large hand, frighteningly large. The fingers loosened from her skin, plucked at her gray tshirt. The material shredded under the faintest touch, melting from her body. Her yoga pants followed. Bra, panties. And she was naked. Defenseless. An appreciative hum in the air around her. "Delicious. I will make you more delicious, and then I will have you." The voice was deep and silky and terrifying.
Hot tears filled her eyes. Something massive and black moved in front of her, filling her vision. It was not a body, but it was. There was no muscles, no skin, no eyes, no mouth. Just the shape, made of a darkness she felt she could fall into. A darkness that oozed evil. "Open your mouth" The silky voice demanded and her frozen body responded. She screamed at herself to close her mouth. But her body refused to listen to her, mindlessly obeying the dark shadow. A small bottle of something black with tints of a vicious dark green in it was lifted, opened. "Drink, my pretty slut."
She drank as it was poured into her mouth. Tears poured down her cheeks. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever tasted. The voice chanted as she drank, horrifying sounds she did not understand the meaning of. The filth poured into her belly, sat heavy and hot in her stomach. Her stomach heaved, fighting to reject it. Even that was denied to her, the liquid insisting on staying right there in her belly. The heat spread and grew more intense, until her blood ran so hot it hurt. She was dying, she thought frantically. The pain turned to agony. Everywhere, inside, she was on fire. Her brain, her heart, her pussy, even her toes were on fire from the inside.
She screamed, howled in agony, but the sound never got past her mind. Her body refused to allow it as the thing watched. She FELT it's pleasure, a cruel vicious pleasure that knew the agony she was suffering and loved it. The chanting continued, but she could no longer focus on it. Everything was melding together into the oddest sensation she had ever had, one she could never begin to define. It was something of an exquisite pleasure mixed with the most horrific of pains. An intense physical longing, aching. Something utterly uncontrollable. And then she fell, her body released, the burning gone. She lay there, panting, drenched in sweat. Naked, her soft body quivering.
"Beautiful." The voice was a hiss above her, and she rolled her head weakly, her eyes blinking open. The shadow was still there, but within it was the most gloriously evil creature she had ever seen. It was hard to see it, to keep focused. He kept flickering, changing somehow. She had the impression of rippling muscles. A jagged, thrusting cock. Clawed hands. Barbs thrusting out of his naked back. Then the shadow was back, but more defined. And her focus shifted from the body to the cock. Her mouth watered.
Hogni looked down at his delectable creature with intense satisfaction. It was a very male satisfaction. He had stolen this delicious thing from the hunter, before the hunter even knew she was there. She had been beautiful before, he had wanted her since he first saw her. Had visited her in her dreams. But now she was irresistible. Her soft brown hair now sparkled with cinnamon highlights. Her bluegreen eyes of before were now alive with a seductive, tempting light. Her lips were softer. Wider. Lips that begged for a hard cock to be pushed between them. Her curves were softer, rounder. The small tits of before more plush, curving upwards temptingly. Her cunt was soft and permanently bare now, oozing with a musk that called to a man, hardened his cock. She was, in his opinion, the best he had created in a long time. And she was his. All his. The witches would want her, but would not have her. She belonged to Hogni now, and would follow his orders. She would do whatever he told her. Would fuck whoever, however, whenever he wanted her to.
Hogni knew what his first command would be. Who the first person she would fuck would be. "Spread." It was a simple command, but one the bitch at his feet welcomed. She moaned helplessly, lay back on the carpet before him and spread her legs. Long, sleek, inviting legs. He stepped between them, fisting his inky black cock, crouching and reaching out to touch that swollen, leaking cunt.
What I like in RPs:
Romance: love, holding hands, sitting in laps, kissing, tenderness, aftercare, protective, cherish, happy ending, cuddling
Poor girl/rich man: Not necessarily overt sugar daddy
Obsession: Instant attraction, refusing denial, insistent, demanding, possessiveness
Authority figures: (NOT incest), cops, military, business executives, bodyguards, security, powerful politicians – a few examples
Rescue: Saving from bad people/things, Protecting, bodyguard, ALL the dangers
Dominant/Submissive: Natural roles (not protocol, just natural personality traits), power exchange. Am open to an overt, protocol D/s relationship but not necessarily looking.
Nonconsent/Reluctance: Blackmail, rape, kidnapping, surrender, love/hate, enslavement, secret slut, hypnosis, fear, arranged marriage, controlling – even extremely so, coercion
Settings: Historical (mostly Victorian, Western, American Revolution, WW2, Wars for Scottish Independence), Modern, Alternate Historical, Historical Fantasy, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Apocalyptic, Supernatural, Alternate Universe, Mafia,
Rough: whipping, hair pulling, spanking, powerfucking, hatefucking, choking, abuse, biting, blood, even – in certain circumstances – very dark themes like murder, torture, scat, etc.
Humiliation: Verbal abuse, spitting, pissing on or in, public sex
OOC: Open, easy communication. Friendliness.
What I do NOT like in RPs:
Incest
Adultery (unless it is a known thing. Cuckolding, open relationships, etc is fine. But deceiving one's partner is something I am deeply against and cannot even enjoy in an RP.)
Playing "real" people like celebrities. This does not mean I dislike faceclaims (A concept I learned here!), just playing the actual person in an RP.
Furries, Nonhumanoids
Your character younger than mine
A kink in search of a story. Do not approach me with "Want to RP this story that revolves around this particular kink I like?" Chances are high I will not be interested.
Settings: Scifi, Superhero/villain, most canon/fandom, gaming worlds, TV/movie, School, Medical, Anime, Zombies, Monsterplay
Physical Transformation/Genderbending
You controlling my characters. I will write my character(s), you write yours. Moving my character around if she is asleep, unconscious, that type of thing is fine. But in general please do not write my character(s). Ask first if uncertain.
Story Ideas
There has never been anyone who fit their name worse. London, to most of the world, brings images to mind of ancient, elegant buildings. Posh royals. Dignified, formal gardens. But this London is a swamp rat, born and raised in the swamps of Louisiana. Her family is poor, but all the other families around are just as poor so no one cares. Everything about London is rough. She barely finished high school. Her clothes are stained and torn and ragged. Her home is a tumbling down wreck of a home, where her room is little more than a closet. She had five older brothers just as rough as she is, and they have taught her well. She curses, spits, shoots, and her highest form of entertainment is playing in the mud - whether in four wheelers or trucks or even just on her own two legs. She hasn't been inside of a clothing store that wasn't a thrift store or a Walmart - which is high class shopping for her. That's where the expensive stuff is. She has eaten gator, deer and racoon, but turns up her nose at the idea of caviar - that shit sounds gross.
But London has a secret - one she safeguards with the violence of a religious fanatic. No one is ever allowed in her room, not even her mother. The last brother that attempted entry almost suffered the loss of his cock, and definitely suffered the loss of the use of it for a few hours. But if someone WERE to gain access, they would likely have felt nothing but pity for her. Because this wretchedly poor girl has expensive taste. Every wall in the tiny room is covered with pictures clipped from magazines. Jewelry, high fashion clothing, far away exotic locations, elegantly attired models, yachts, luxury cars, beautifully decorated rooms....all of it clipped from magazines she has bought from thrift stores. London desperately loves pretty things, but she cannot afford them and never will. And she takes that raging disappointment out on the world around her, a 'fucking bitch' to some, and a 'flaming firecracker' to others, depending on whether they like her or not.
There are a lot of ways we can go here as far as plot, most of it depending on your character. I had the idea of a playboy type man who despises the dregs of society like her forced by his wealthy grandfather to seduce her into marriage to secure his inheritance. The premise being his grandfather and hers were friends in a war and her grandfather saved his grandfather's life. But there are a lot of other options we can look at as well. Hell, its the swamps of Louisiana. Supernatural twist is a possibility here. Hit me up.
But London has a secret - one she safeguards with the violence of a religious fanatic. No one is ever allowed in her room, not even her mother. The last brother that attempted entry almost suffered the loss of his cock, and definitely suffered the loss of the use of it for a few hours. But if someone WERE to gain access, they would likely have felt nothing but pity for her. Because this wretchedly poor girl has expensive taste. Every wall in the tiny room is covered with pictures clipped from magazines. Jewelry, high fashion clothing, far away exotic locations, elegantly attired models, yachts, luxury cars, beautifully decorated rooms....all of it clipped from magazines she has bought from thrift stores. London desperately loves pretty things, but she cannot afford them and never will. And she takes that raging disappointment out on the world around her, a 'fucking bitch' to some, and a 'flaming firecracker' to others, depending on whether they like her or not.
There are a lot of ways we can go here as far as plot, most of it depending on your character. I had the idea of a playboy type man who despises the dregs of society like her forced by his wealthy grandfather to seduce her into marriage to secure his inheritance. The premise being his grandfather and hers were friends in a war and her grandfather saved his grandfather's life. But there are a lot of other options we can look at as well. Hell, its the swamps of Louisiana. Supernatural twist is a possibility here. Hit me up.
When she turned eighteen, Alice was released from the mental health facility her parents had placed her in. Her parents were no longer willing to foot the bill, and Alice was not willing to stay. She wanted to be free. So did they. Their parting was amicable for the most part. They gave her $10,000 and a decent used car and wished her well. A month later they sold their home and moved, without leaving a forwarding address.
Alice was hurt, but not surprised. She found a reasonably low-cost duplex to rent. Got a job with the city water company that didn't care that she never bothered to go to college because it was just a customer service job. She made friends, adopted a cat, found a therapist, started going to a nice church where the priest was elderly and mild-mannered with a kind smile. Life was going well, and Alice got comfortable.
She never should have gotten comfortable.
She was twenty when it happened again. She went to bed after her nightly rosary, wearing her flannel nightgown. She woke up in he living room wearing a bright orange minidress with a neckline that plunged to her belly button. She reeked of sex, and cum was still dribbling out of her pantyless vagina. Horrified she ran to the bathroom and stripped, blasting the water dangerously hot. With the water stinging her skin she looked down, cringing at all the bruises. How many? There were fingertip shaped bruises all over her, but especially on her hips and breasts.
Horror raised small goosebumps on her flesh. It was happening again.
⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍
Alice has a mental health problem. She has multiple personalities. Two, as of now. That can be changed as desired. But right now she has two. Alice and Allie, who jokingly refers to herself as Alliecat. Plot remains to be seen, depending on your character. Are you a new therapist she seeks out? A new priest in her church she seeks out for confession and help? Someone who fucks her and catches on there is a problem and takes advantage or tries to help? Send me a PM and let's discuss the options.
Alice was hurt, but not surprised. She found a reasonably low-cost duplex to rent. Got a job with the city water company that didn't care that she never bothered to go to college because it was just a customer service job. She made friends, adopted a cat, found a therapist, started going to a nice church where the priest was elderly and mild-mannered with a kind smile. Life was going well, and Alice got comfortable.
She never should have gotten comfortable.
She was twenty when it happened again. She went to bed after her nightly rosary, wearing her flannel nightgown. She woke up in he living room wearing a bright orange minidress with a neckline that plunged to her belly button. She reeked of sex, and cum was still dribbling out of her pantyless vagina. Horrified she ran to the bathroom and stripped, blasting the water dangerously hot. With the water stinging her skin she looked down, cringing at all the bruises. How many? There were fingertip shaped bruises all over her, but especially on her hips and breasts.
Horror raised small goosebumps on her flesh. It was happening again.
⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍
Alice has a mental health problem. She has multiple personalities. Two, as of now. That can be changed as desired. But right now she has two. Alice and Allie, who jokingly refers to herself as Alliecat. Plot remains to be seen, depending on your character. Are you a new therapist she seeks out? A new priest in her church she seeks out for confession and help? Someone who fucks her and catches on there is a problem and takes advantage or tries to help? Send me a PM and let's discuss the options.
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