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- Joined
- Jan 1, 2020
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- I go by Manny. I'm 26, work full time and have a daughter.
- I may not be able to reply much if at all Monday - Thursday. I am available for most of Friday, Saturday and Sunday EST.
- I try to communicate as much as possible.
- I have been roleplaying for over a decade so I'm very experienced.
- I write in 3rd person present tense.
- I can roleplay in PMs or on Discord. I'm not comfortable writing in a public space where just anyone can read it.
- I don't have very many limits when it comes to roleplay. I enjoy exploring and trying new things.
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I am currently looking to play Wyatt Markaff- LITERATE AND EXPERIENCED PARTNERS!! β I understand that mistakes happen, that's okay, but please be coherent. I may ask for writing samples.
- Dialogue heavy roleplay, OR, roleplays in which replies are formatted to resemble text messages sent back and forth between the characters. I refer to this as "text roleplay" β I tend to rely on this style of roleplay because it's easier to keep up with and it takes less to progress the story β sometimes it's necessary to write descriptive paragraph replies to progress the story, this is not text ONLY, but text dominant, if that makes sense.
- Classic paragraph style roleplay β I DO NOT FOLLOW LINE/PARAGRAPH MINIMUMS. If the scene/situation only calls for 2-3 sentences then that is all I will provide. If you are not lenient with reply length we will not be compatible roleplay partners β I also tend to mirror my partner's replies.
- Taboo. I LOVE taboo. Incest and age gaps are my favorite taboos. Think brother x sister/brother x brother OR middle aged man x 17-21 year old. And the angst/moral deficits that come with it? Chef's kiss.
- My doms getting bossed around/sassed at or even dominated by more dominant doms. Is this a kink? Probably.
- Also very interested in playing a feisty, rude sub.
- Breaking stereotypes, by which I mean straight characters falling in love with the same sex, gay characters falling in love with the opposite sex, dominant females, submissive heterosexual males, etc.
- Crack roleplay, maybe, if it piques my interest. This involves deliberately playing canon characters out of character, OVER playing them or playing silly plots with canon/original characters β I once did a roleplay where Mineta (BNHA) had the hots for Bakugo (BNHA) and tried to get his "mommy milkers", to Bakugo's absolute horror lmfao
- Possible long-term partners, and maybe even friends.
- All in all, I'm just looking to have fun.
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- Porn without plot.
- Being limited, restricted, demanded to be XYZ.
- Having my characters played for me in any shape or form.
- Playing more than one pairing in one roleplay. Side characters and their side stories are fine, but I don't double up/triple up etc.
- Being criticized or called out the moment one of my replies drops below your length requirements β if this happens after I have very clearly stated in my RT that I don't follow length requirements I'll abandon the roleplay without warning. I'm really tired of having length requirements imposed on me. It's not like I give one-liners all the time, I just write what feels appropriate. Sometimes that's 5 paragraphs, sometimes it's 2-3 sentences β I believe in quality over quantity. It's not about length, it's about quality.
Looking for a sweet innocent (and a little feisty) girl for Wyatt to corruptI colored the roles I would prefer to play.
- Brother x Sister
- Father x Son
- Mother x Son
- Brother x Brother
- Alien x Human
- Demon x Human
- Celebrity x Fan/Non-fan
- Enemies to lovers
- Age gap β older x younger
My preferred role is colored. Roles with specific names incorporate my original characters into that role β β = craving.
Chase works for the government alongside select members of an alien race, researching medicine using the superior technology provided by the aliens. He befriends one of the aliens working alongside him and the two of them forge an unbreakable bond and must inevitably escape together from a corrupted government system that seeks to silence them.
Monarch is born an orphan on a planet called Evangeline. His only guardian is a mysterious fellow who calls himself Maorie, and seems to know too much about the way of the world. As Monarch grows, he discovers powers that lie dormant in him, which leads him to uncovering his ancestral origins and the reason for his existence. Through all of which he learns a shocking truth about Maorie. Character B is a friend that Monarch makes along the way, his partner in crime, so to speak.
Wyatt has always been weirdly obsessed with his brother/sister, even to the point that it becomes dangerous for anyone around them. Bullies either mysteriously disappear or wind up in strange accidents without a particular culprit to blame. The obsession rapidly devolves into a twisted and decidedly toxic form of love, involving blood play, gaslighting and, well, sex.
Wyatt resents his mother. He's the reckless black sheep of the family, never quite fit in, and if anyone's on his case about it, it's her. So he hates her, and makes sure she knows it. Unfortunately for both of them, he kind of falls in love with her in the process.
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Some of the characters have in-depth character profies on Quotev, which are linked. Click them if you'd like to know EVERYTHING about the character, or just peer at the basic summary for the gist if you don't feel like doing a lot of reading.
I am also okay with using a basic form to create a completely new character. However I would PREFER to use one of my OCs β β = characters I really want to use.
β¦ Full Name: Blaine Eric Johnson
β¦ Nickname(s): BJ (don't call him Blaine, he hates it)
β¦ Date of Birth: Nov 16th
β¦ Astrological Sign: Scorpio
β¦ Personality Type: INTP-T
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: Demisexual demiromantic
β¦ Religious Views: Atheist
β¦ Occupation: Barista at Morningstar Coffee (this is a jab at the demon version of his character. Yes, I also play BJ as a demon. Check his full profile on Quotev for all the details.)
β¦ Face Claim: Jakub GierszaΕ
β¦ Full Profile: Demon | Human
β¦ Full Name: Chase Samuel Reid
β¦ Nickname(s): -
β¦ Date of Birth: December 30th
β¦ Astrological Sign: Capricorn
β¦ Personality Type: ISTJ-A
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Demiromantic
β¦ Religious Views: Forced Christian but secretly agnostic
β¦ Occupation: Works on a farm, or, depending on age, attends college
β¦ Face Claim: River Phoenix
β¦ Full Profile: Not finished
β¦ Full Name: Jason Alex Michaels
β¦ Nickname(s): -
β¦ Date of Birth: -
β¦ Astrological Sign: Gemini
β¦ Personality Type: -
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: -
β¦ Religious Views: Agnostic
β¦ Occupation: -
β¦ Face Claim: Simone Nobili
β¦ Full Profile: Link
β¦ Full Name: Monarch (Last name is Princeton when playing him as a human)
β¦ Nickname(s): -
β¦ Date of Birth: -
β¦ Astrological Sign: Libra
β¦ Personality Type: -
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: Flaming homosexual
β¦ Religious Views: Agnostic
β¦ Occupation: Works at Morningstar Coffee with BJ. He is BJ's best friend since childhood.
β¦ Face Claim: ?
β¦ Full Profile: Human | Demigod
β¦ Full Name: Wyatt James Markaff
β¦ Nickname(s): Wy, James
β¦ Date of Birth: June 11th
β¦ Astrological Sign: Gemini
β¦ Personality Type: ISTP-T
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Demiromantic
β¦ Religious Views: Agnostic
β¦ Occupation: Backyard street racing
β¦ Face Claim: ?
β¦ Full Profile: Not finished
β¦ OTHER: Extremely kinky
β¦ Full Name: Thomas Albert Markaff
β¦ Nickname(s): Tom, Tommy
β¦ Age: 39 (almost 40)
β¦ Date of Birth: May 12th 1982
β¦ Astrological Sign: Taurus
β¦ Personality Type: ISTJ-T
β¦ Gender: Male
β¦ Sexual Orientation: Closeted homosexual
β¦ Religious Views: N/A
β¦ Occupation: Stay at home dad, has a small mechanic business on the side that he operates from home
β¦ Face Claim: James McAvoy
β¦ Full Profile: Link
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Sleep doesn't find him as quickly as he's used to, so he lies awake in a moonlit room hoping to find rest sometime soon. The faint sound of the TV in BJ's room falls silent and when more silence follows, Tim assumes the two boys have gone to bed for the night. Sighing woefully, Tim wishes to join them in sleep, but for as tired as he is, he's wide awake. His eyes are sore and dry from a long day without rest and all he can seem to do is lay restless with a sluggish but loud mind.
I need to get groceries tomorrow, we're running low on the essentials.
Tim likes to cook, and he does a lot of it, which brings him to another train of thought that compels another sigh to escape him: I still haven't done the dishes. The sink is full and I have to make breakfast in the morning. If I don't get those now I'll have to wash dishes and make breakfast. Might as well. I can't sleep anyway.
He throws the blanket aside and gets out of bed with overworked muscles demanding him to stay put, but nevertheless Tim stands and rounds the bed to reach the door. He opens it quietly just in case the boys haven't fallen asleep completely and pulls his night robe together over his middle when the fluctuation of air reminds his body that he's no longer tangled in the warmth of his covers.
The light in the kitchen is harsh to his eyes, having already adjusted to the dark, but he squints to adjust to it and moves to the sink in the meantime. The sound of the faucet is harsh to his ears, which have become accustomed to the ringing silence of his bedroom, but he ignores this too and reaches for the sponge on the sink frame to wet it and lather it with dish soap.
Maybe I'll make tacos for dinner tomorrow. Or maybe chicken alfredo. BJ likes my chicken alfredo. But what about Monarch? He doesn't eat meatβI'll have to make something for him too if he's going to stay over again.
It must be nice to be young and as full of energy as they are. I don't think I can remember being that age anymore, or what it was like to not feel so tired all the time. And BJ is pretty physically fit for his age, he's got to have more energy than most of his classmates. Must be nice.
Taco salad! It's perfectβMonarch can just avoid the meat and I don't have to make two different meals. Well, technically he can avoid the meat if I make chicken alfredo too. I wonder what he'd rather have. I'll have to ask him. Might just make it anyway, BJ really likes it. It makes me feel good whenever he starts devouring a plate of it. And the exaggerated sounds he makes when he goes in for a bite. Makes me smile.
Tim smiles fondly to himself in memory of all the hums and exaggerated groans of approval whenever BJ would have any of his chicken alfredo. He shakes his headβthe secret is barbeque sauce and just a tablespoon of teriyaki sauce. Maybe I'll share it with him when he moves out on his own. Maybe I won't, that way he keeps coming back for my cooking.
A plate scrapes against one of the pans when Tim sets it in the dish drainer. He cuts the water and rinses the excess soap from his hands and the sponge before leaving it on the sink frame and wiping his hands on his robe, which has fallen open during his endeavor to wash the dishes. Alright, maybe I'll be able to sleep now. So he wanders back out of the kitchen, switching off the light on his way out, and back to his room where he shuffles stiffly back into the small concave where he's slept and worn the mattress in over time.
His eyes will have to readjust to the dark again, but Tim decides to take advantage of it, thinking it might edge him closer to sleep if it manages to re-trick his mind into rest mode. He pulls the cover up to his shoulder and turns on his side, closes his eyes and exhales slowly, pointedly releasing any and all tension that remains in his muscles.
His mind begins to replay images from earlier in the day as he finally begins to sink further and further into a comfortable quiet. Sleep approaches and as he's drifting in the limbo of consciousness, he hears a muffled sound waft in from across the hall. It sounds like a conversation...but also not a conversation. It doesn't matter. Tim shifts until the blanket slides over his ear, blocking out some of the piercing quiet of the room and reintroducing his mind to sleep-silence.
I need to get groceries tomorrow, we're running low on the essentials.
Tim likes to cook, and he does a lot of it, which brings him to another train of thought that compels another sigh to escape him: I still haven't done the dishes. The sink is full and I have to make breakfast in the morning. If I don't get those now I'll have to wash dishes and make breakfast. Might as well. I can't sleep anyway.
He throws the blanket aside and gets out of bed with overworked muscles demanding him to stay put, but nevertheless Tim stands and rounds the bed to reach the door. He opens it quietly just in case the boys haven't fallen asleep completely and pulls his night robe together over his middle when the fluctuation of air reminds his body that he's no longer tangled in the warmth of his covers.
The light in the kitchen is harsh to his eyes, having already adjusted to the dark, but he squints to adjust to it and moves to the sink in the meantime. The sound of the faucet is harsh to his ears, which have become accustomed to the ringing silence of his bedroom, but he ignores this too and reaches for the sponge on the sink frame to wet it and lather it with dish soap.
Maybe I'll make tacos for dinner tomorrow. Or maybe chicken alfredo. BJ likes my chicken alfredo. But what about Monarch? He doesn't eat meatβI'll have to make something for him too if he's going to stay over again.
It must be nice to be young and as full of energy as they are. I don't think I can remember being that age anymore, or what it was like to not feel so tired all the time. And BJ is pretty physically fit for his age, he's got to have more energy than most of his classmates. Must be nice.
Taco salad! It's perfectβMonarch can just avoid the meat and I don't have to make two different meals. Well, technically he can avoid the meat if I make chicken alfredo too. I wonder what he'd rather have. I'll have to ask him. Might just make it anyway, BJ really likes it. It makes me feel good whenever he starts devouring a plate of it. And the exaggerated sounds he makes when he goes in for a bite. Makes me smile.
Tim smiles fondly to himself in memory of all the hums and exaggerated groans of approval whenever BJ would have any of his chicken alfredo. He shakes his headβthe secret is barbeque sauce and just a tablespoon of teriyaki sauce. Maybe I'll share it with him when he moves out on his own. Maybe I won't, that way he keeps coming back for my cooking.
A plate scrapes against one of the pans when Tim sets it in the dish drainer. He cuts the water and rinses the excess soap from his hands and the sponge before leaving it on the sink frame and wiping his hands on his robe, which has fallen open during his endeavor to wash the dishes. Alright, maybe I'll be able to sleep now. So he wanders back out of the kitchen, switching off the light on his way out, and back to his room where he shuffles stiffly back into the small concave where he's slept and worn the mattress in over time.
His eyes will have to readjust to the dark again, but Tim decides to take advantage of it, thinking it might edge him closer to sleep if it manages to re-trick his mind into rest mode. He pulls the cover up to his shoulder and turns on his side, closes his eyes and exhales slowly, pointedly releasing any and all tension that remains in his muscles.
His mind begins to replay images from earlier in the day as he finally begins to sink further and further into a comfortable quiet. Sleep approaches and as he's drifting in the limbo of consciousness, he hears a muffled sound waft in from across the hall. It sounds like a conversation...but also not a conversation. It doesn't matter. Tim shifts until the blanket slides over his ear, blocking out some of the piercing quiet of the room and reintroducing his mind to sleep-silence.
"I fucking hate you."
"I fucking hate you."
"I fucking hate you."
He can't stop repeating those words in his head, like a curse, damning him for all of eternity. She looked so sincere when she said themβdid she mean it? Does everything that's happened between them over the past few months mean nothing to her now? Did it ever mean anything to her?
Really, Wyatt supposes, the question he should be asking himself is what any of it means to him, and why. Below the surface, below their playful gibes, their pushes and shoves and eyerolls, Wyatt's been tucking every moment between them safely away in his heart, and then taking them out at night when everyone's fast asleep to admire them like a child admiring his dreams. They feel like little glimpses of paradise scattered throughout a world of monotony and pretend. She's like his guardian angel, keeping him rooted to the present, keeping him tethered to what matters and safe from the dark-Wyatt that lurks in every shadow of his subconscious mind.
She's heaven and she's hell, and Wyatt realizes that he's addicted to her.
"Maybe I'm up to something. Maybe I'm not up to something." Casual and aloof. It bothers her. "Maybe I just like making you think something's going on when it's not." And then he grins. Beth's cheeks feel like they've changed colors, and the way Wyatt grins down at her like she's small to himβfiguratively, because she's physically smaller in comparisonβstirs in her a bizarre combination of embarrassment, defiance, and submission. It's as if his eyes have cast a spell on her and made her less inclined to object, even playfully. "What's the matter?" Wyatt unfurls and looms over her like a distorted shadow. Beth shrinks against the island counter as he becomes increasingly closer to her, intimidated by the way his voice feels heavy on the air between them and sounds as if it's dropped an octave. The heels of his palms meet the edge of the island. In his right hand he's pinching the wooden stick of his melting push-pop between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index finger. "Cat got your tongue?"
She swears his pupils look bigger than usual, and she can almost recall watching them fill his irises the closer to her that he got, but his presence is stifling and she can't quite think clearly with it making her feel so little.
Wyatt likes the way the heat of her body feels inferior to his, how the size of her body is so much smaller compared to his, but what he likes most about her is how, as he leans in further, her pupils saturate the color of her irises as they expand. Hypervigilance and attraction. That distinct feeling of the hairs on the back of the neck rising, goosebumps called to the surface of flesh and jolts of adrenaline falling like electricity down the spineβWyatt can see all of that happening to her by the way her pupils enlarge, her body tenses but doesn't object, the sudden paleness of her skin and the subtle, easy-to-miss parting of her lips.
"I fucking hate you."
"I fucking hate you."
He can't stop repeating those words in his head, like a curse, damning him for all of eternity. She looked so sincere when she said themβdid she mean it? Does everything that's happened between them over the past few months mean nothing to her now? Did it ever mean anything to her?
Really, Wyatt supposes, the question he should be asking himself is what any of it means to him, and why. Below the surface, below their playful gibes, their pushes and shoves and eyerolls, Wyatt's been tucking every moment between them safely away in his heart, and then taking them out at night when everyone's fast asleep to admire them like a child admiring his dreams. They feel like little glimpses of paradise scattered throughout a world of monotony and pretend. She's like his guardian angel, keeping him rooted to the present, keeping him tethered to what matters and safe from the dark-Wyatt that lurks in every shadow of his subconscious mind.
She's heaven and she's hell, and Wyatt realizes that he's addicted to her.
"Maybe I'm up to something. Maybe I'm not up to something." Casual and aloof. It bothers her. "Maybe I just like making you think something's going on when it's not." And then he grins. Beth's cheeks feel like they've changed colors, and the way Wyatt grins down at her like she's small to himβfiguratively, because she's physically smaller in comparisonβstirs in her a bizarre combination of embarrassment, defiance, and submission. It's as if his eyes have cast a spell on her and made her less inclined to object, even playfully. "What's the matter?" Wyatt unfurls and looms over her like a distorted shadow. Beth shrinks against the island counter as he becomes increasingly closer to her, intimidated by the way his voice feels heavy on the air between them and sounds as if it's dropped an octave. The heels of his palms meet the edge of the island. In his right hand he's pinching the wooden stick of his melting push-pop between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index finger. "Cat got your tongue?"
She swears his pupils look bigger than usual, and she can almost recall watching them fill his irises the closer to her that he got, but his presence is stifling and she can't quite think clearly with it making her feel so little.
Wyatt likes the way the heat of her body feels inferior to his, how the size of her body is so much smaller compared to his, but what he likes most about her is how, as he leans in further, her pupils saturate the color of her irises as they expand. Hypervigilance and attraction. That distinct feeling of the hairs on the back of the neck rising, goosebumps called to the surface of flesh and jolts of adrenaline falling like electricity down the spineβWyatt can see all of that happening to her by the way her pupils enlarge, her body tenses but doesn't object, the sudden paleness of her skin and the subtle, easy-to-miss parting of her lips.
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- Please feel free to message me if any of the stuff above piqued your interest. I will try to respond as quickly as I can.
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