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Tren
Planetoid
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2024
Hol' up. There's three things you should know ahead of time.
1. I write for dominant (usually male) characters with hypercharged libidos. They are hot. They are horny. They have treetrunks swinging between their legs and they're not afraid to use them. Throughout the course of any story we write, theses studs will fuck the brains out of entire battalions of pretty girls. You do not have to play these pretty girls - I'm happy to write for them - but you certainly must be okay with the unprecedented levels of sexual promiscuity and concubinage I intend to bring to our collab. Sexual monogamy is a no-go.
2. Your characters do not have to get pregnant, but there will be a humungo amount of pregnancy in any smut I write.
3. Finally, I much prefer writers who are willing to 1) play multiple characters and 2) collaboratively worldbuild with me. I certainly intend to play fuckloads of characters. You can absolutely have a main character. You can spend 80% of your writing time on your main. But for the love of god, don't leave me to DM every last detail. Contribute. Pick up an NPC. Add some lore. Effort is hot as fuck.
Still here? Fantastic. Onto the pitch.
1. I write for dominant (usually male) characters with hypercharged libidos. They are hot. They are horny. They have treetrunks swinging between their legs and they're not afraid to use them. Throughout the course of any story we write, theses studs will fuck the brains out of entire battalions of pretty girls. You do not have to play these pretty girls - I'm happy to write for them - but you certainly must be okay with the unprecedented levels of sexual promiscuity and concubinage I intend to bring to our collab. Sexual monogamy is a no-go.
2. Your characters do not have to get pregnant, but there will be a humungo amount of pregnancy in any smut I write.
3. Finally, I much prefer writers who are willing to 1) play multiple characters and 2) collaboratively worldbuild with me. I certainly intend to play fuckloads of characters. You can absolutely have a main character. You can spend 80% of your writing time on your main. But for the love of god, don't leave me to DM every last detail. Contribute. Pick up an NPC. Add some lore. Effort is hot as fuck.
Still here? Fantastic. Onto the pitch.
---
On Worship.
Worship of the masculine is the engine that runs everything I find hot and sexy in the world. I like when feminine characters acknowledge the sexual prowess of masculine characters. To that end, I've decided to build a request thread that targets worship of different masculine archetypes, starting with the Father. I'll add more as I go along and think-up fresh plot pitches.
Want to know what I mean when I say 'Worship'? Have a look.
If I had to summarize my ERP kinks in four words, it'd be this: Worship of the Masculine. What the fuck does that mean?
Here's the crudest, most dumbed-down explanation I can think of. Imagine all the women in the world came together, pointed to One Man, and collectively said: "Yep. That's him. That's the Guy. He's the Mannest Man to ever Man. We want him. We may not like him - hell, we may hate his guts - but we need to have sex with him. We need to gossip about him to each other. We need to follow him. Observe him. Have his children. True, we have dreams and ambitions for our lives. We have husbands, families, oaths and duties all our own. We still want those things - but we want Him even More. We must join together in collective worship of the masculine ideal he represents."
Reading that may have given you the wrong impression - that I want to write for flawless, hypermacho god-men who can do-no-wrong, or that I want the women in my stories to be cookiecutter fuckdolls whose brains melt out of their ears the moment they catch a whiff of cock. Nothing could be further from the truth. The Worship Must Be Earned. I want character above all. I want to write men who grapple with the implications of their masculinity and seriously examine the ethical problems arising from their sexual power. Similarly, I want women who are actual goddamn human beings. Fuck bimbofication. Give me nuance and flaws - small moments of intimacy and doubt. Give me conflict, insecurity and contention. Flesh them out through gradual, organic roleplay. Tell me what books they read, what annoys them, what their ambitions are, their fears, reservations, preferred cuisines, allergies, favorite goddamn flavors of ice cream, the works.
This sounds less patriarchal than it is. Remember that it all comes back to Worship. The complexity of the female characters magnifies the glory of the masculine. He's not appropriating mindless sluts. That would be too easy. Instead, he's claiming real women. Real people with real doubts and fears and ambitions and dreams that they willingly subordinated to Him. That's the appeal.
Other things I like. Trophies. Small, off-handed acknowledgements of sexual prowess and conquest. Wedding rings in his desk drawer. Stillettos on his shoe rack. A collection of ruined panties for every cherry he’s popped. These can also be bodily markings that betray his recent liaisons: a woman excitedly yanks down her man’s pants to give him the sloppiest blowjob of his life only to find three pairs of fresh lipstick already coating his balls. She can smell their pussycream on his cock - the hardening shaft still soaked with their juices. That's Hot As Fuck. Give me more. Hickies on his neck. Scratch marks on his back. Girls following him into the bathroom and walking out, panting, wobbling in her heels and cupping her crotch so his cum won’t spill out of her panties. Everyone notices.
My other fetishes are much easier to understand. Breeding/impregnation is huge. However much of this you’re comfortable writing for - conception to actual childbirth - I’ll take it. A big part of this kink stems from the aforementioned love of ‘Trophies’, pregnant bellies and bastard children being a clear record of a man's conquests. It’s a primal expression of male dominance - “I own you so completely that I’m knocking you up so everyone else knows it too” - and it turns me the fuck on.
Larger male partners/smaller female partners is my preference. Big, fat, ugly cocks. Tight, tiny lil’ pussies. It doesn’t fit. Slowly, painfully even, working it into her. Bottoming her out. Resizing her. She’s not gonna be the same. Deep, internal cumshots. Ageplay. Teenage girls and older men. Teenage boys and older women. Virgins and defloration. Mother/daughter. Aunts. Nieces. Sisters. Dominating and breeding an entire bloodline.
Oh, and male dominance and competition - specifically, different paradigms of masculinity competing over limited recourses and women. Ideologically-opposed value systems embodied in hypermasculine characters who evaluate the legitimacy of their convictions through conflict. I'll explain that one some other time.
Here's the crudest, most dumbed-down explanation I can think of. Imagine all the women in the world came together, pointed to One Man, and collectively said: "Yep. That's him. That's the Guy. He's the Mannest Man to ever Man. We want him. We may not like him - hell, we may hate his guts - but we need to have sex with him. We need to gossip about him to each other. We need to follow him. Observe him. Have his children. True, we have dreams and ambitions for our lives. We have husbands, families, oaths and duties all our own. We still want those things - but we want Him even More. We must join together in collective worship of the masculine ideal he represents."
Reading that may have given you the wrong impression - that I want to write for flawless, hypermacho god-men who can do-no-wrong, or that I want the women in my stories to be cookiecutter fuckdolls whose brains melt out of their ears the moment they catch a whiff of cock. Nothing could be further from the truth. The Worship Must Be Earned. I want character above all. I want to write men who grapple with the implications of their masculinity and seriously examine the ethical problems arising from their sexual power. Similarly, I want women who are actual goddamn human beings. Fuck bimbofication. Give me nuance and flaws - small moments of intimacy and doubt. Give me conflict, insecurity and contention. Flesh them out through gradual, organic roleplay. Tell me what books they read, what annoys them, what their ambitions are, their fears, reservations, preferred cuisines, allergies, favorite goddamn flavors of ice cream, the works.
This sounds less patriarchal than it is. Remember that it all comes back to Worship. The complexity of the female characters magnifies the glory of the masculine. He's not appropriating mindless sluts. That would be too easy. Instead, he's claiming real women. Real people with real doubts and fears and ambitions and dreams that they willingly subordinated to Him. That's the appeal.
Other things I like. Trophies. Small, off-handed acknowledgements of sexual prowess and conquest. Wedding rings in his desk drawer. Stillettos on his shoe rack. A collection of ruined panties for every cherry he’s popped. These can also be bodily markings that betray his recent liaisons: a woman excitedly yanks down her man’s pants to give him the sloppiest blowjob of his life only to find three pairs of fresh lipstick already coating his balls. She can smell their pussycream on his cock - the hardening shaft still soaked with their juices. That's Hot As Fuck. Give me more. Hickies on his neck. Scratch marks on his back. Girls following him into the bathroom and walking out, panting, wobbling in her heels and cupping her crotch so his cum won’t spill out of her panties. Everyone notices.
My other fetishes are much easier to understand. Breeding/impregnation is huge. However much of this you’re comfortable writing for - conception to actual childbirth - I’ll take it. A big part of this kink stems from the aforementioned love of ‘Trophies’, pregnant bellies and bastard children being a clear record of a man's conquests. It’s a primal expression of male dominance - “I own you so completely that I’m knocking you up so everyone else knows it too” - and it turns me the fuck on.
Larger male partners/smaller female partners is my preference. Big, fat, ugly cocks. Tight, tiny lil’ pussies. It doesn’t fit. Slowly, painfully even, working it into her. Bottoming her out. Resizing her. She’s not gonna be the same. Deep, internal cumshots. Ageplay. Teenage girls and older men. Teenage boys and older women. Virgins and defloration. Mother/daughter. Aunts. Nieces. Sisters. Dominating and breeding an entire bloodline.
Oh, and male dominance and competition - specifically, different paradigms of masculinity competing over limited recourses and women. Ideologically-opposed value systems embodied in hypermasculine characters who evaluate the legitimacy of their convictions through conflict. I'll explain that one some other time.
---
Worship of the Father
Protector - Provider - Leader - Ruler - King - Conquerer - Dominator - Subjugator - Tyrant
---Protector - Provider - Leader - Ruler - King - Conquerer - Dominator - Subjugator - Tyrant
Dad's Double Life
TLDR: A young woman comes-of-age and discovers her father figure is a bitchbreaking stud. Egad. Whatever shall she do.
MANDATORY THEMES/KINKS: Father figure x Daughter figure (actual incest optional). Maledom. Cheating. Breeding. Age Difference. Size Difference. Secret Harems. All Your Friends Wanna Fuck Your Dad.
OPTIONAL: Incest. Virginity/Defloration. Slice-of-Life School Setting. Your Character(s) Get Pregnant. Competition between Daughter Figure and Mother/Friends/Mistresses. Raceplay. Faceclaims (Any type of media).
---
Of course you love your dad. Why wouldn't you? Dad's the best. He's always been there for you - every soccer game, every theater production - dad was there to tell you how proud he was of you. When you were little, he built you tree houses, fought dragons alongside you with makeshift cardboard swords, and treated you and mom to vacations all over the world. Now that you're grown, dad helps you study for finals, teaches you guitar, exercises with you (you can't lift nearly as much weight as he does, but that's okay <3), and spoils you rotten. Sure, he travels a lot for work. Maybe he's not home as often as you'd like. But dad always makes time for you. He once flew out from Africa just so he could attend your art exhibition! Dad's the best. He loves you.
...but as you get older, you've started to notice strange things about dad. During your morning workouts, you find fresh hickeys and faded lipstick on his neck and arms in colors that definitely aren't mom's. Sometimes, when you call his office, his secretary sounds breathless and disoriented. ("Mmmmhhhaa.... M... Mr. Br-Braille isn't-... mmmhh.... is ...mmAHHH! He's not fuck available right n-now... I'd be ohfuckslowerslower ha-AH-ppy to take a... oh, wait, is this Aubrey? Ohmygod. Richard! It's your daughter! Yes! No, I can't just give you the phone, jackass, you're eleven inches deep in my... but you said this week was MY turn for... ughhh FINE I'll get off. He'll be right with you, sweetheart! You're making this up to me later... ") When he gets home from a long business trip, mommy will hug him real close and give him a good smell. ("How many this time, Richard? We agreed no more than four. I'm smelling at least six... no, seven.") All your friends want to sleepover your house on exactly those days that daddy's home from his business trips. Late at night, when they think you're asleep, they'll sneak out of your room for hours. Three of them recently found out they were pregnant!
Of course you love your daddy... but for the first time, you realize you may not be the only one.
...but as you get older, you've started to notice strange things about dad. During your morning workouts, you find fresh hickeys and faded lipstick on his neck and arms in colors that definitely aren't mom's. Sometimes, when you call his office, his secretary sounds breathless and disoriented. ("Mmmmhhhaa.... M... Mr. Br-Braille isn't-... mmmhh.... is ...mmAHHH! He's not fuck available right n-now... I'd be ohfuckslowerslower ha-AH-ppy to take a... oh, wait, is this Aubrey? Ohmygod. Richard! It's your daughter! Yes! No, I can't just give you the phone, jackass, you're eleven inches deep in my... but you said this week was MY turn for... ughhh FINE I'll get off. He'll be right with you, sweetheart! You're making this up to me later... ") When he gets home from a long business trip, mommy will hug him real close and give him a good smell. ("How many this time, Richard? We agreed no more than four. I'm smelling at least six... no, seven.") All your friends want to sleepover your house on exactly those days that daddy's home from his business trips. Late at night, when they think you're asleep, they'll sneak out of your room for hours. Three of them recently found out they were pregnant!
Of course you love your daddy... but for the first time, you realize you may not be the only one.
---
The Wholesome Version: 'Daddy' is a good father. Is he the biggest manwhore to walk the earth since Gilgamesh? Yes. But he loves you. He simply lives two lives. In one, he's a loving father and husband. In the other, he's a goddamn international dickmongerer - bruising cervixes and making babies all over the world. The tension between these two worlds - nurturing domestic and sexualized masculine - forms the main conflict of the story. This can be any setting (slice-of-life urban, small-town country farm, fantasy, scifi, etc) and doesn't need to be an incest pairing between father and daughter (adopted father - mentor - school teacher, etc). I'm happy to change pretty much everything aside from the 'MANDATORY' kinks listed above. Single dad? Cuckquean or oblivious wife? Multiple kids? Different gender pairings? Gay/trans pairings? Hmu.
The Degenerate Version: You don't even know 'Daddy.' You are one of his hundreds (thousands?) of bastards; yet another baby born from his decades-long career seeding bellies all over the world. You've never met him, but you know a lot about him... and you know you have to find him. What are you after? Revenge? Are you going to make him pay for what he did to your family - to hundreds of other families? Are you following some instictual, biological drive to offer yourself to him? Maybe you just want to see what kind of man he is. He fucked your mother one time and she still masturbates to his image years later. The least you could do is look him in the eye.
This 'degenerate version' is much more lacking in plot than its 'wholesome' sister. I'm open to any ideas that might give it more depth and conflict. I think it'd be fun for the daughter to 'hunt' her father across the globe, discovering MORE of daddy's bastards along the way. The party grows. It's like a JRPG except the adventure party are all the kids of the world's worst dad.
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The Brail Bill
TLDR: Global testosterone rates have crashed. Birth rates are plummeting. But oh look - here's Big Dick McFuck to fix everything by having children with every able-bodied woman he lays eyes on. Yay.
MANDATORY THEMES/KINKS: Patriarchy as Law. Harems. Cheating. So Much Fucking Pregnancy.
OPTIONAL: Incest. Degredation/Humiliation. Anything Else You Can Think Of.
---
Selden City should have been the perfect place to live.
Nestled between the thickly-forrested Cappawa Mountains and the sea, Selden was the ideal mid-sized northeastern city - big enough to host a bustling downtown district but small enough that pollution and homelessness were nonissues. The local university brought in scores of young people each year while the gorgeous seaside views ensured a healthy flow of tourism in the summer and autumn. Idyllic, white-picket bungalows dotted the suburbs, sailboats cruised the crystal waters of Hesterly Harbor, and the clam chowder at Joanne's Diner won a national award, last year. The whole place could've been something out of a Pollock painting.
But Selden, like the rest of the world, was a city in decline. The failing birthrates had hit the town harder than most. Fewer and fewer students enrolled in the university each term. Tourism dried up. Industry died. Scored of family-sized suburban homes remained vacant and unsold. Where artists and musicians had once plied their trades in Union Square every Friday evening, the local bars and clubs now locked their doors and closed early. A fog lay about the city - a dull, grey aura of lifelessness and stagnation. Selden was as cold and placid as the unpaved winter snow blanketing its sidewalks.
Selden City should have been perfect - but it still could be. What it needed was energy - color - art - vigor. What Selden City needed was Life.
What Selden City needed was Jameson Brail.
---Nestled between the thickly-forrested Cappawa Mountains and the sea, Selden was the ideal mid-sized northeastern city - big enough to host a bustling downtown district but small enough that pollution and homelessness were nonissues. The local university brought in scores of young people each year while the gorgeous seaside views ensured a healthy flow of tourism in the summer and autumn. Idyllic, white-picket bungalows dotted the suburbs, sailboats cruised the crystal waters of Hesterly Harbor, and the clam chowder at Joanne's Diner won a national award, last year. The whole place could've been something out of a Pollock painting.
But Selden, like the rest of the world, was a city in decline. The failing birthrates had hit the town harder than most. Fewer and fewer students enrolled in the university each term. Tourism dried up. Industry died. Scored of family-sized suburban homes remained vacant and unsold. Where artists and musicians had once plied their trades in Union Square every Friday evening, the local bars and clubs now locked their doors and closed early. A fog lay about the city - a dull, grey aura of lifelessness and stagnation. Selden was as cold and placid as the unpaved winter snow blanketing its sidewalks.
Selden City should have been perfect - but it still could be. What it needed was energy - color - art - vigor. What Selden City needed was Life.
What Selden City needed was Jameson Brail.
This is pretty goddamn predictable coming from me. Basically, this pitch is set in a world where there aren't any Manly Man anymore. What caused the shortage? War? Plague? Microplastics? Idunfuckingknow. All that matters is that studs are few and far between. With the number of virile men in the world in the double digits, the status quo shifts. Harems? Commonplace. You don't really expect a stud to have sex with one woman his whole life, do you? Adultery and cheating. Also normal. You can hardly blame the stud if he fancies your wife, can you? Single Motherhood. Again - normal. What, did you think the stud was gonna take care of the baby he just fucked into you? Lady, you're his fourth conquest today. He's got six more sluts lined up after this. It's not even lunchtime.
Right now, my plan was to center the conflict around an up-and-coming politican - Jameson Brail - a champion of 'Breeder's Rights' in the wake of the fertility crisis. Brail would push (increasingly patriarchal) legislation in an effort to curb the declining birthrates and put the world back on track. You could play a rival politican - a personal aid - a student activist - his secretary - the cashier at his local smoothie store. You decide. I trust you.
Of course, it doesn't need to be a modern setting at all. Post-apocalyptic hellscape where the majority of men have been wiped out by war and/or plague? Sign me up. Fantasy setting where some ambiguous curse rendered the majority of men infertile? Love it. If you have any idea set in a world where virile studs are rare and in-demand, I want to hear about it. Pitch it to me.
---
Daddy Finally Learned How to Use Goddamn Instagram
TLDR: We ERP except instead of prose we write social media posts about our characters.
That's it. That's the whole premise. Hit me up with anything. Any idea. Any setting. Seriously.
Here's an example that I spent way too much time on.
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