lookin' for a few fun roleplays
preferably story with kink, not just smut
FxF (trans friendly!) or Female x FemmeNB/Fu
pms preferred; slow reply rate, usually a week+
me - writes 300+ words per post
loves to world-build and play multiple characters
types like a gremlin ooc, not ic (samples below!)
you - just put in some thought and effort,
a few paragraphs per post will do---
help carry the action! brainstorm with me!
if that's a beat you can dance to, drop me a pm.
things i like below; my preferred roles in yellow:
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◣ Writing Sample: A Li'l Fan Service
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"If you're so smart you should know," Bell snarled.
Katalin looked over at her, curious about the sudden change in tone. Why was she so upset? Kat watched her intently for several long seconds, like a cat might watch a shadow, but found nothing particularly interesting in her head. So, she turned away without saying a word. Bell's discomforts and anxieties weren't important, really. She'd get over them, or not. It wasn't Katalin's job to ensure her kidnapper's happiness. When others would've taken the opportunity to escape, she had guided Bell to safety because the other woman had thrown her clear of the security officers' guns. A saved life deserved a life saved in return, but her obligations to the pirate ended with leading her to refuge in the basement.
Let her be pissed off, Katalin thought as she spread one of her quilts on the ground.
Bell had told her to leave if she liked, but Katalin didn't like. This became abundantly clear as she set about making a nest from the blanket and began undressing to sleep. She was going to stay, at least for awhile. Katalin pulled off her boots and set them neatly beside her makeshift bed, then stripped off the cloak she wore for warmth and to protect her clothes from dust and grime. Her shirt came off over her head, and her skirt slipped down round her hips to puddle at her feet. When she stood in just panties and a simple white shift, she folded all her clothes together in a little bundle: a pillow which she placed at the edge of her bed.
If she was self-conscious at all about standing in front of Bell in her underwear, Katalin didn't show it. Her small breasts pressed against the fabric of her shift and, while they fully covered what they were meant to cover, the panties she wore--- cute in their blue-striped practicality--- rode low on her hips and did nothing to hide the smooth expanse of her thighs. Katalin seemed oblivious, or at least completely unconcerned, that she might be giving Bell a show. She even got down on hands and knees to make minute adjustments to her blanket and pillow, bending over in the process and giving Bell the perfect view of her ass. Heart-shaped and pert, it swayed gently back and forth as she worked to smooth wrinkles and neaten folds. When she was done, Katalin wrapped her second quilt around her shoulders and settled down atop her fastidiously-made little bed.
"You think the quiet is uncomfortable, don't you?" she asked, staring at Bell in that unsettlingly intense way she had. "We can talk, I guess." She fell quiet for a moment, as if thinking of something to say or of some way to start a conversation. Then, "Your stomach's nice. Did anyone ever tell you?"
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◣ Writing Sample: Dinner 'n Dialogue
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Gil's eyes flashed in amusement, and a vicious smile lit up his face. She has brains after all; how delightful!
"I'm glad you didn't say anything," he laughed. The serving girl returned, and food appeared on the table before them--- several platters of it. Gil began to help himself. He piled a bit of everything on a plate, meticulously arranging it so none of it touched. He waited for the server to carry on her way before speaking again. Somehow he sounded casual, almost pleasant, when he continued, "If I have to kill you, they'll make the same mistakes again."
He popped a bit of stewed apple into his mouth and let it dissolve on his tongue, savoring the flavor. It'd been weeks since he'd eaten anything but a tasteless gruel with the consistency of paste. After such fare, the apples were wonderfully sweet; the smell of cinnamon filled his nose. Already, Gil could feel himself forgetting the particulars of his short stay in His Majesty's dungeons. A trick the mind played to protect itself from the worst memories of unpleasant events. He'd experience such a fading of memories before; it often happened after battle. Before long, everything--- the cold of laying awake, night after night, on a stone floor covered with only a thin layer of filthy straw; the wet, hacking cough of a dying man two cells away; a glimpse of merciless gray sky caught through a barred window--- would blur together into a mass of surreal impressions, a whole from which nothing, no matter how horrific, could stand out too starkly. The stink of the dungeons, of sweat and blood and piss, was fading away before the smells of the Snoring Boar's food, like a bad dream upon waking....
"I'm sorry. I'm being rude. Please, eat. The duck is delicious," Gil said, redirecting his wandering mind. He looked up at Ceres and, though he let on no hint of what he was thinking, he realized in that moment he'd sooner die than let himself be thrown in a cell again.
"What topics do you enjoy speaking of? So I don't bore you to death," Ceres asked.
"My interests are many and varied," Gil answered. His smile, which had momentarily lapsed, returned. "Let's start with you. I'm very interested in you. Tell me, how'd you end up here, sitting across a table from an accused murderer?
"Who'd you piss off?"
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