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LiveAmmunition
Half Man, Half Animal, All Dumb
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2018
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Introduction
Hi! To not beat around the bush, I love playing inhuman characters, especially the big and burly kind! Misunderstood outcasts, bloodthirsty warlords, brutes with a heart of gold, falling to or fighting against their inhuman instincts — I adore writing them all. Lizardmen, dragonborn and werewolf/wolfmen are personal favorites. All the rest — trolls, minotaurs, other beastmen and what have you — are trailing not too far behind. As a rule of thumb, any fantasy or sci-fi race that's a hulking giant is okay in my books. I love to pair them with smaller women, whether human or not, since that emphasizes the delicious contrast between them.
Keep in mind, I'm not here just for the smut, though I'll admit that it's fun once in a while. Adding a grander plot that pushes our characters forward and lands them in interesting situations multiplies my enjoyment of writing and makes the whole story so much more engaging. Setting wise, you'll find that I'm open to pretty much anything: fantasy, science fiction, modern fantasy, etc. I can't promise I'll agree to anything, but don't be afraid to propose an idea, no matter how outlandish it might seem.
If monsters aren't your thing, consider checking out my other request thread.
General Info- I write in 3rd person, past tense and expect my partner to do the same.
- I'm fine with either threads or private messages, with slight preference towards threads.
- My post length varies between 300 and 700 words.
- My reply rate is roughly a few times per week.
- Drawn character references only. If not, a written description does wonders. I don't like using photos.
- OOC chat appreciated!
- Doubts or questions? Feel free to ask!
- Likes
- Maybes
- Dislikes
- (???) Have Ideas? Will Discuss!
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Have Ideas? Will Discuss!
Coming back from a longer RP break, I don't have any specific ideas in mind for now, but would be interested in hammering out some plot with a potential writing partners. I'm in the mood for something that gets smutty quite quickly and keeps things short term, with a clear goal/end we would be working towards. Feel free to use my ideas below for inspiration or come up with something completely new. Don't be afraid to give me something out of the left field either — worst I'll do is decline!
Archived Ideas
(Not actively looking, but maybe you can change my mind?)- (Sci-Fi/Fantasy) Test Subject on the Loose
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Test Subject on the Loose
A pairing of a researcher and her unwilling test subject. Is she a scientist tasked with a creation of army's super-soldier pet project? A xenobiologist studying a newly discovered alien species? A witch keeping an exotic specimen as a catalyst for spells? Whoever she may be, her prisoner breaks loose and — of course — is wild and ferocious. (Up to debate how well or harsh she's treated him before the breakout and how much it matters to the unrestrained beast.) - (Modern Fantasy) Instincts Overwhelming
- (Modern Fantasy) Morning Coffee with Extra Sugar
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Morning Coffee with Extra Sugar
(Initially a response to someone else's prompt, repurposed as a prompt of my own. If you want the summary, skip to the italicized text below.
"I'm telling you Jim, it's busted." Holding the cellphone between his ear and shoulder, it took Tarak a couple of loud slams to close the hood of his car. After wiping off oil stains from his claws with a cloth, he took the phone back into his right hand. "Listen, I don't need another lecture about 'that old clunker of mine', I need a tow truck. Just get Edward to... What?" His steel-blue eyes went wide for a second before disappearing under a frustrated massage from the thumb and index finger of his free hand. "Right, right, I forgot. How long till he's done?"
He released his eyes to take a quick look at his wristwatch. "An hour at worst? Lovely, just lovely. Alright, after he's done, just tell him to come to..." Tarak looked around, trying to locate a street sign and some sort of landmark. "...Raven Street, near 'Coffee Yard'. I think it's a cafe or something? Alright, bye."
As the call ended, the dragonborn leaned on his car and let out a long sigh. Maybe Jim was right, maybe it finally was time to get a new car. It's not like he couldn't afford it, quite the opposite really, he just had a soft spot for the old beater. After all, his 'oldest and most reliable business partner' served him well across all the different businesses he had started in his life. Seven in total, two of which were still doing fine and another one he had started just a month ago, but it too looked promising. His hard work as a small business owner was finally paying off — even if he had to wait until he was pushing forty for that — and he felt like that piece of junk was part of this success. Whatever the case, the only saving grace of this whole misfortune was that, for once, he wasn't in a hurry. He had better things to do than just aimlessly wait for a tow truck, but none of them couldn't wait an hour or so. On top of that, he hadn't even eaten yet that day.
As such, he might as well enjoy some good coffee and breakfast.
Short trip to the other side of the street later, the bells at the entrance of the Coffee Yard welcomed Tarak inside with a jingle. Well, two jingles actually, since he snagged the bells as he stepped inside. It didn't bother him — like all the other dragonborn, he had towering physique and a pair of horns, so it was hard to not bump into things sometimes.
What did bother him though, was the waitress that turned to greet him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but she seemed to pause for a moment after looking him over. Was it his looks? Jeans and red flannel with rolled up sleeves certainly weren't a fashion statement, but couldn't be THAT bad. Was it his jet black scales? It was somewhat uncommon coloration, but not exactly rare. He wasn't out of shape either, with naturally broad chest and shoulders, and quite a bit of muscle too. Otherwise, he was just a regular dragonborn, complete with claws, fangs and a thick tail.
However, she quickly regained her composure and asked him whether he wanted to sit by the counter or take one of the free booths by the window. He had the choice, as there was but a handful of customers this early — an elderly dwarven couple, half-asleep half-elf student, sharp suited orc getting a box of donuts as takeout. Regulars, but Tarak had no way of knowing that on his very first visit.
"I'll sit by the counter and have a cup of coffee for starters, please." He gave her his typical business smile.
After taking his seat, the dragonborn couldn't help but steal glances at the puzzling girl as she darted back and forth among the patrons of the shop. The more he looked, the more she seemed familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint where he had seen her before. He had a terrible memory for faces, especially if he didn't have a name to connect the two together. He drummed his claws on the counter, unaware that his phone right next to them had the answer — the SeekingSugar app.
To quote the developers 'the app allows young and upcoming women to connect with older and more experienced men to exchange companionship for mentoring and sponsorship'. Or, dropping the advertisement friendly startup-speak, an app for sugar dating. The terms of service explicitly stated that 'taking things further' was entirely up to women, making it garner notable popularity among struggling students and fresh graduates.
Purely by accident, one of those 'young and upcoming women' with whom Tarak got paired through the app, was also a waitress at the Coffee Yard. Every time they had met so far, she went the whole nine yards with the fancy dresses, hairdos and make-up, making her practically a different person when compared to her usual work attire. Most importantly though, they had certainly 'taken things further' in the past...
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So, a small business owner is unaware that the young waitress he had just met in the cafe is actually his Sugar Baby. Her, on the other hand, recognized him as clear as day. What do you think happens next? Does she reveal herself or try to keep it secret? Is she using the app to make ends meet or does she love getting attention from men almost twice her age? Do they keep things professional or do they end up hot and steamy in the staff room? Feel free to jump straight in with you character! - (Modern Fantasy) Roadtrip
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Roadtrip
I've had this itching for a 'road movie' type of roleplay, though I don't have anything specific in mind. Travel the world, see the sights, solve the problems that arise. Did my character pick up yours while she's hitchhiking across the country? Are our characters on a business trip, but end up stranded in the middle of nowhere after their car broke down? The "sneaked into your van/truck while you weren't looking" is a bit cliché, but if you've got interesting circumstances for your character, we could make it work. Also, open to all of it happening in 90s, 80s or even earlier, for that extra 'in the middle of nowhere with no contact with the outside world' vibe. - (Sci-Fi/Fantasy) Chains of Command
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Chains of Command
Would love to see a pairing between a slender female captain and her monster of a first officer, serving on a ship or fortress (whether regular, air or orbital depends on the setting). Professionally, she's the one in charge, sternly giving out orders, while he makes sure that they are followed to the letter. Privately, whether officially or in secret, they are lovers and their roles are reversed — he's dominant while she's the submissive one. Bonus point if we can weave in some long-term story elements. Is their vessel carrying a high profile diplomat? Are they performing a secret operation deep behind enemy lines? Is their fortress besieged and they are desperately trying to hold out and keep the morale high? Something to spicy up their daily routine and give us an overarching plot to work with. - (Fantasy) A Faustian Bargain
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A Faustian Bargain
How about a good old deal with the devil? Your character signs a pact with a powerful being — e.g. a djinn, a forgotten pagan god, an otherworldly creature — who promises to grant her favors, but everything has its price, with sensual offerings being the currency. Starting from trivial things: a caress of her neck, an innocent kiss, a night beside her. With passing time and growing number of requests, the payment for his services would continue to grow more degenerate: to trace his inhuman tongue across her bosom, to watch her please herself, to spill his seed on her body. The idea is for your character to agonize over each deal — how much is she ready to debase herself for the power she needs?
Your character could be someone already in the seat of power (e.g. royalty or nobility), desiring more. In that case, the monster's help could involve eavesdropping on important conversations, digging out naughty secrets for blackmail or publicly embarrassing her rivals. Alternatively, to up the scale, the favors could involve repelling enemies of her domain, intimidate neighboring lands into alliances or assassination of problematic vassals. Or, perhaps she's someone weak and desperate, with no influence or authority, striking a deal with a monster to save herself or her loved ones from a dire fate? In any case, there's a perfect opportunity here for corruption and/or fall from grace. - (Sci-fi/Cyberpunk) Undercover in The Underpass
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Undercover in The Underpass
(Something akin to opening post below, showing what vibe I'm aiming for. If you want the summary, scroll down to the italicized text.)
The bouncer, arms crossed and standing still like a statue, barely moved his eyes up and down to look over the next guy in line. An abhuman dreg like any other that want to get in. Scruffy gray fur, faux leather bomber jacket, cigarette between his teeth and — of course — a silent simmering scowl. A typical wannabe bad boy. The only interesting thing he had going on was that chrome arm, even if tarnished. The fridge of a man had let enough of his kind in for the night — younger too, for any gals into freaks — so if the guy wanted to make a scene, he was ready to put him in his place. Always good to make an example for any other troublemakers waiting in line. "We're full. Piss off, fleabag." He provoked, expecting to ignite the scowling fella and give him a reason to get it over with.
The wolfish man spat his cig onto concrete. "Funny, my friend here says I've got a reservation," he said, reaching inside his jacket. The guard at the entrance uncrossed his arms, trying to make a split-second decision whether to tackle the abhuman or bail before a bloodbath begins. He failed — the man pulled out his hand before he could decide. In it, held between index and middle fingers, was a crumpled 100 dollar bill. The bouncer deflated like a balloon, tension escaping his body.
"So what's it gonna be chum?" Said the scruffy man, waving the cash around like a bait on a hook. The note was snatched from his hands and the statue of a man stepped aside, attempting to keep his unfazed facade. Hundred bucks is hundred bucks, after all. With that, Jack got in to "The Underpass" — a longstanding shifty nightclub where shady deals were as common as techno beats. One of the oldest in the city, named back when the highway above it was more than just a set of crumpling arches. A melting pot of street crooks, slimy businessmen, cartel representatives and regular club-hoppers. Simultaneously best and worst place for an undercover cop to be.
As he stepped out of the narrow corridor leading outside, he was immediately washed over by the pulsating violet lights and the rhythmic banging of the music, the heavy bass going through everything like an X-ray, vibrating the very marrow of one's bones. After the cannonade of audio-visual stimuli, came the stuffy air. Filled with tobacco, alcohol, and the dozens upon dozens of different perfumes, colognes and sweats. All congregating in the club's heart — the dance floor — filled to the brim with people paying little to no attention to the beat, either too focused on leering at their dance partners or completely zoning out from whatever stimulants flowed in their veins. Towering above and overlooking this thicket of moving bodies were the individual cabins, paned with one-way-tinted glass for privacy. Stacked so high, that Jack had to tilt his head all the way back to catch even a glimpse of the ceiling. The quality and price of service rose exponentially with height, leaving the lower levels for plebs and small-timers, and the top for THE TOP. From bottom floor, the VIP booths looked harder to reach than stars in the sky, regardless if you were a honest citizen, a crook or a lawman in disguise.
One step at a time, the wolfish cop thought as he lowered his gaze back to the ground level and began to meander his way towards the bar. Taking the whole wall opposite of entrance, its pale blue light shined like a beacon among the sea of purple. A few people nursed their drinks, but most came and went, hands full of shots, cocktails or pints of beer. Just as Jack reached the counter, his trained eyes spotted a small packet "subtly" changing hands between patrons, in plain sight of the unbothered staff. Jack took their example and also pretended not to notice.
"Hi, what can I get you?" one of the bartenders asked.
"I'll take a shot," Jack replied. "Half part vodka, half part rum, one part whiskey."
"Coming up!" The bartender spun around and picked up the appropriate bottles. The cocktail wasn't Jack's drink of choice, but was essential for this whole operation — it was the only way for his informant to identify him. A preset sign, with a matching countersign. The meeting was planned with utmost care and secrecy, with neither party knowing the identity of the other, taking place in the lion's den to throw off any suspicion. It could very much be an elaborate trap. Another message from the mob: "we're running circles around the law and there's nothing you feds can do" with a cop's life for a period.
Yet, deep down, he felt the risk was worth it. When Jack had first heard what the snitch claimed to know, he jumped straight in — he couldn't pass such an opportunity. Even if half of what they claimed was true, it would be another rung in the ladder to reach those in VIP booths at the top. All that time spent on following even the most dubious of leads, all those sleepless nights, stakeouts, tails, red herrings... It would work. It had to work. It no longer was about delivering justice. Then again, was it ever? The phantom pain was always there. He replaced his arm with a cybernetic one, but no technology could replace what his soul lost all those years ago.
The glass clinked as the finished drink was placed in front of Jack. In return, he fished out another bill form his jacket. "Keep the change and keep 'em coming," he said, sliding the note to the bartender and picked up the shot glass. Now, all he could do was to wait for the countersign. He chucked the alcohol down his throat, turned around and leaned back on the counter. For possibly his last drink, it went down with odd smoothness.
***
Something with a bit longer build up that could be played for either long or short term, depending on how we want the story to unfold. Obviously, the set up is for your character to be the informant meeting an undercover lawman in a seedy club, but who your character actually is and what's their deal is up to you. The club's manager, wanting to bail the shady life? A corporate business woman, trying to get her competition in hot water? Or is this really a red herring, set up by a mob queen, so she can personally meet the persistent investigator who's been snooping around? In any case, I'm feeling adventurous, so wouldn't mind you continuing in-character from where I left off, but if you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to write to me in OC first. - (Sci-Fi/Cyberpunk) Field Testing
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Field Testing
Inspired in no small measure by RoboCop, this plot revolves around an experimental weapon, cybernetically and/or biologically enhanced into a next-generation support for military or law enforcement. Before it can reach mass production, a prototype model has to undergo field trials, and that's where your character comes in — filling the role of its handler, testing its effectiveness and responsiveness to orders. Simply put, a sort of high-tech K-9 unit, though not necessarily involving canines.
That's the very general gist of it, the rest is up for discussion. Is your character a newbie cop, excited to work with such advanced unit? A veteran soldier, frustrated at having to work with a glorified tin-can? Maybe a criminal who somehow got a hold of the prototype, planning to use it for future jobs? Plenty of possibilities, both for short- and long-term. My only stipulation is for the weapon in question to be at least partially organic — I have no interest in playing a robot. - (Fantasy) You Dare, You Filthy Beast?!
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You Dare, You Filthy Beast?!
A powerful sorceress keeps a monster locked up either for the secrets he possesses, rare ingredients obtained from his species or simply sadistic pleasure. She continuously teases and abuses him in sexual ways to force out what she wants. Obviously, she never has penetrative sex with her prisoner. Even thinking about something so disgusting that is beneath someone of her noble status. Meanwhile, the monster has been preparing his escape and when the opportunity strikes, he breaks free. However, before he escapes the estate of his captor, he invades her personal chambers to take what she has been denying him this whole time.
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Something rather smut-heavy. I imagine this as a few scenes of the lady abusing our monster on separate occasions, gradually increasing the intensity of each 'session', ending with the prisoner breaking out and enacting some sweet and dirty revenge. Kink-wise, I'd love to see plenty of outercourse (handjobs, thighjobs, etc.) and some drug/aphrodisiac use. On the other hand, I'd prefer to avoid ruined orgasms. - (???) Lamentations of a Warhound
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Lamentations of a WarhoundSoldier, warrior, a war machine. Hopeless, exhausted, dejected. Whether a volunteer, conscript or tool — doesn't matter. The war took everything from him and then — just like that — it was over. No more fighting. No more fear for own's life. No more purpose. Whatever or whoever he fought for had no more use for him. No longer an asset but a liability, the monster was discarded. Can the broken pieces be rearranged into a new will to live?
The image above is the sole reason for this cheesy prompt. Anyway, how about a story of a broken monster getting fixed? I imagine this apathetic mess, without care for his own well-being, getting healed with love, care and gentle touch. Alternatively, he could be a nervous wreck, mistaking kindness as deception, ready to snap at any moment, like a unexploded bomb. His past doesn't have to involve war — other prolonged traumatic events will work too. All the other details — the setting, his species and how your character is involved — can be discussed.
Image GalleriesFor character references and general inspiration.
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