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DarkerSighting
Moon
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2018
This thread is a work in progress, and will be updated over time. Everything is up for discussion. Ideas are loosely offered, and can be altered as needed.
I'm a man who enjoys writing, and I want to write the extreme. If you want the same things, I'm sure we can find common ground, and both come out of this feeling satisfied.
I consider myself a wordy writer, and that manifests in posts that are often five hundred words plus. Often more, sometimes less, if the scene calls for it. I'm available most days, but can't, and won't, promise anything. I plan and primarily play on Blue Moon. Can possibly be convinced to go to Discord down the road. Possibly.
I don't have many expectations for potential partners, but I do have a few. Know your way around a keyboard, offer some decent ideas, be someone I enjoy writing with. We don't have to become friends or anything, but I find that I write a better story with someone I can shoot the shit with. But, the most important thing, try. There's nothing better than a post where it's clear my partner is trying. I don't care if it takes you a week. We have all the time in the world. Beyond that? Come as you are.
The Foreign Exchange Student - A new country. A new world. A new culture. She landed, and all seemed well. Her host family was pleasant, the food was good, and school was going as well as school possibly could. But all good things must come to an end. Maybe that comes in the form of a glance across the table at dinner that lasts just a little too long. Maybe it comes in the form of a locked door, and a hand over her mouth. Maybe it comes in the form of bruised knees, and a hand around her throat. Or maybe, it comes in the form of her skirt being hiked a little too high when the man of the house is looking. Maybe she's there to ruin what he's built, to wreck his home, and blow his mind like his wife never could. Or maybe she's there for his son. Or maybe, his son can't control his urges.
Meet Me After Class - Her grades were low. Maybe she was a burnout, who couldn't care less. Maybe she just wasn't getting it. No matter the case, she finds herself bent over her teachers desk, getting filled to the point where it feels like she's being split in half. He's not gentle. He doesn't love her. She works hard for the extra points he gives her. Maybe she's a goody two shoes, who asks if there's anything she can do to get her grades up. Her throat is filled, her cheeks are tear-stained, and she's gasping for air before the bell rings. Either way, they'll get what they deserve.
Because You're Family - Perhaps even more classic than a girl and her dog, the beauty of family love. An Aunt seducing her nephew, or maybe a nephew pushing his aunt's boundaries. An Uncle taking advantage of his niece and her youthful naivete, or a niece showing her uncle just how much of a woman she's become. A mother reminding her son that she knows best, or a son giving his mother what his father never could. Daddy's little girl being pulled over her father's knee, or a dad showing his daughter just what it means to be fucked. Hard. The possibilities are endless.
The Woes of a Whore - Whether she's a high class escort being flown overseas, or a denizen of the slums, one thing's for sure; she fucks for money. Her holes can all be bought. Her clients make requests. Her pimp, if she has one, can be ruthless. She's sold, bought, sold, and bought again. She's a product of her environment, and that's why everybody loves her.
Trafficked - Who knew that the charming young men at the bar didn't have her best interests in mind? Drugged, she never had a fighting chance. Maybe they had their fun with her first, double teaming her in the back of their car. Or maybe they're purely transactional, taking the necessary pictures so they can find a buyer. She loses her name, her hopes, her dreams, everything. Sold to the highest bidder, her life is forfeit, and the same goes for her holes.
The Man Beneath Your Psyche - Home. Safety. Comfort. Security. She had it all. A sweet little bungalow by the beach, or perhaps in the mountains, surrounded by pines. Her man leaves for work in the morning, and she stays home, sleeping in thanks to the glorious benefits of a WFH schedule. The front door locks, but it doesn't matter. The windows are shut, but he's already inside. How he got through is anyone's guess. But he's been watching. Waiting. Biding his time. Or maybe he's nothing more than a passing disaster. Maybe he opened the door because he could. She can ask why he's doing this, she can beg him to stop, she can pray for death, but he'll take his time. He earned it.
War of Whispers - 1941. Auschwitz. Hell on Earth. She's a lost soul, doomed to die an unjust death, and he's the reaper, inching his scythe ever closer to her twitching throat. He watches the camp, ending the lives of the less productive, and instilling fear in the hearts of those who wish to prolong whatever they have left. She's someone. A performer who catches his eye, a singer who catches his ear. Perhaps she held some sort of fame before she was loaded into a boxcar, and her identity was reduced to a string of numbers on her arm. Whoever she is, he'll take her, and give her an ultimatum. Conform; do as he asks, or become nothing more than dust on the wind.
If you see anything that catches your eye, let's talk. Things can be discussed, roles can be changed, and ideas can come to life. Let's have a little fun.
I'm a man who enjoys writing, and I want to write the extreme. If you want the same things, I'm sure we can find common ground, and both come out of this feeling satisfied.
I consider myself a wordy writer, and that manifests in posts that are often five hundred words plus. Often more, sometimes less, if the scene calls for it. I'm available most days, but can't, and won't, promise anything. I plan and primarily play on Blue Moon. Can possibly be convinced to go to Discord down the road. Possibly.
I don't have many expectations for potential partners, but I do have a few. Know your way around a keyboard, offer some decent ideas, be someone I enjoy writing with. We don't have to become friends or anything, but I find that I write a better story with someone I can shoot the shit with. But, the most important thing, try. There's nothing better than a post where it's clear my partner is trying. I don't care if it takes you a week. We have all the time in the world. Beyond that? Come as you are.
The Ideas. All ideas can, and will be, further discussed, and possibly altered. I want them to be as enjoyable for you as they are for me. All ideas must stay within the lines of the site rules, of course. All genders and roles can be reversed where applicable. Just ask. I'm flexible.
Plain Jane Plots
Plots that don't lean in one direction or another. Plain Jane.
Plain Jane Plots
Plots that don't lean in one direction or another. Plain Jane.
The Foreign Exchange Student - A new country. A new world. A new culture. She landed, and all seemed well. Her host family was pleasant, the food was good, and school was going as well as school possibly could. But all good things must come to an end. Maybe that comes in the form of a glance across the table at dinner that lasts just a little too long. Maybe it comes in the form of a locked door, and a hand over her mouth. Maybe it comes in the form of bruised knees, and a hand around her throat. Or maybe, it comes in the form of her skirt being hiked a little too high when the man of the house is looking. Maybe she's there to ruin what he's built, to wreck his home, and blow his mind like his wife never could. Or maybe she's there for his son. Or maybe, his son can't control his urges.
Meet Me After Class - Her grades were low. Maybe she was a burnout, who couldn't care less. Maybe she just wasn't getting it. No matter the case, she finds herself bent over her teachers desk, getting filled to the point where it feels like she's being split in half. He's not gentle. He doesn't love her. She works hard for the extra points he gives her. Maybe she's a goody two shoes, who asks if there's anything she can do to get her grades up. Her throat is filled, her cheeks are tear-stained, and she's gasping for air before the bell rings. Either way, they'll get what they deserve.
Terribly Taboo
Plots that sit just beyond what society deems acceptable.
A Girl And Her Dog - The most simplistic of pairings. A girl, and her loving dog. Man's best friend becomes woman's best friend. Whether she's an eager high school student looking to get back home to her overly affectionate German Shepherd, or a middle age woman who's given up on the dating world, and jokingly calls her Golden Retriever her boyfriend. No matter the case, it's a tale as old as time, and we both know exactly where it goes.Plots that sit just beyond what society deems acceptable.
Because You're Family - Perhaps even more classic than a girl and her dog, the beauty of family love. An Aunt seducing her nephew, or maybe a nephew pushing his aunt's boundaries. An Uncle taking advantage of his niece and her youthful naivete, or a niece showing her uncle just how much of a woman she's become. A mother reminding her son that she knows best, or a son giving his mother what his father never could. Daddy's little girl being pulled over her father's knee, or a dad showing his daughter just what it means to be fucked. Hard. The possibilities are endless.
Dangerously Dark
You won't find a happy ending here.
You won't find a happy ending here.
The Woes of a Whore - Whether she's a high class escort being flown overseas, or a denizen of the slums, one thing's for sure; she fucks for money. Her holes can all be bought. Her clients make requests. Her pimp, if she has one, can be ruthless. She's sold, bought, sold, and bought again. She's a product of her environment, and that's why everybody loves her.
Trafficked - Who knew that the charming young men at the bar didn't have her best interests in mind? Drugged, she never had a fighting chance. Maybe they had their fun with her first, double teaming her in the back of their car. Or maybe they're purely transactional, taking the necessary pictures so they can find a buyer. She loses her name, her hopes, her dreams, everything. Sold to the highest bidder, her life is forfeit, and the same goes for her holes.
The Man Beneath Your Psyche - Home. Safety. Comfort. Security. She had it all. A sweet little bungalow by the beach, or perhaps in the mountains, surrounded by pines. Her man leaves for work in the morning, and she stays home, sleeping in thanks to the glorious benefits of a WFH schedule. The front door locks, but it doesn't matter. The windows are shut, but he's already inside. How he got through is anyone's guess. But he's been watching. Waiting. Biding his time. Or maybe he's nothing more than a passing disaster. Maybe he opened the door because he could. She can ask why he's doing this, she can beg him to stop, she can pray for death, but he'll take his time. He earned it.
Historically Inaccurate
History, and all of it's ugly flaws, bent to tell a story.
History, and all of it's ugly flaws, bent to tell a story.
War of Whispers - 1941. Auschwitz. Hell on Earth. She's a lost soul, doomed to die an unjust death, and he's the reaper, inching his scythe ever closer to her twitching throat. He watches the camp, ending the lives of the less productive, and instilling fear in the hearts of those who wish to prolong whatever they have left. She's someone. A performer who catches his eye, a singer who catches his ear. Perhaps she held some sort of fame before she was loaded into a boxcar, and her identity was reduced to a string of numbers on her arm. Whoever she is, he'll take her, and give her an ultimatum. Conform; do as he asks, or become nothing more than dust on the wind.
If you see anything that catches your eye, let's talk. Things can be discussed, roles can be changed, and ideas can come to life. Let's have a little fun.
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