Mx Male [ a bit of darkness, a bit of softness ]

dear-bones · Feb 15, 2025

[ Overview ] [ Stats ] [ Story ] [ Smut ] [ Sample ]

Times are weird and I'm looking for a creative outlet. Specifically, I'm after a blend of dark content paired with soft, squishy affectionate crap. I crave complicated characters who will love and protect each other, despite their own toxicity.

》Story, Smut, and Kink
As much as I love erotic writing, I prefer stories be driven by plot and character over raw smut. Slow-burn romances and slow build-ups are always adored, and I'm also into stories involving little to no smut, provided the romance is engaging. That said, I do love incorporating kink into stories. These kinks don't need to be overtly sexual, either. Things like hurt/comfort, wound care, significant age gaps, inter-species (monsters, aliens, etc), body horror, gender fuckery, etc.

》Post Length and Frequency
I fall into the 'write as much or as little as required to move the scene forward' school of thought. A fast-paced, dialogue-heavy section might see shorter, quicker posts. A slower, more sensory-rich section will see longer posts. Things are generally fairly dynamic with me, but I'll always make sure you have enough to sink your teeth into.

》Characters
While I do have some repeats, usually I create a fresh character for each scene. I do tend to double-up a lot in my role plays. I'll have one or two main characters and any number of named, recurring side-characters. I ask that these named side-characters remain mine to control, as I usually have some story-goal / purpose in mind when I introduce them.

》Endings and Ghosting
If I'm unable or uninterested in continuing a role play, I'll politely let you know. I'd appreciate the same courtesy.
- DMs only
- Timezone: PST
- Flexible post length
- Para to multi-para
- Multiple posts a day
- Story-smut balance
- Multiple characters / doubling
If it's not on one of these lists, pitch it anyway. I'm pretty open to a lot of things. The only real exception to that is fandom; there are very few existing universes that I'm interested in or comfortable writing in. With the few fandoms I am interested in, I'm only down for playing OC x OC pairings.

Pairings . . .
- Bodyguard / Client
- Agent / Handler
- Scientist / Experiment
- Priest / Sinner
- Authority / Punk
- DILF / DILF
- Cop / Criminal
- Polyamory / throuples
- Incest
  - Father / son
  - Brother / brother
- Inter-species
  - Aliens, robots, anthros, supernatural, etc
- Self-cest
  - Clones, copies, multiverse, etc.
Themes . . .
- Family drama
- Found family
- Dysfunctional relationships
- Complicated relationships
- Taboo relationships
- Hurt / Comfort
- Trauma and recovery
- Slow-burn romance
- Dramatic age differences
Genres . . .
- Medieval / Traditional Fantasy
- Historical fantasy
- Science Fiction
- Cyberpunk / Dystopian Future
- Crime Noire, Mystery
- Modern Drama
- Horror / Paranormal / Supernatural
- Fandom
  - Fallout
  - The Elder Scrolls
Vanilla Kinks . . .
- Sex toys. Lots of sex toys
- Cum. Lots of cum
- Oral sex, face-fucking
- Prostate Play
- Frotting, rutting
- Power-bottom x service top
Psychological Themes . . .
- Love, affection, and all that tender crap
- Crying, super-charged emotions
- Hurt / comfort, aftercare, cuddling
- Dramatic age differences
- Dysfunctional relationships
- Dirty talking
- Medical Play
  - Wound treatment, bandages
  - Amputation, Amputee Characters
Physical Themes . . .
- Really rough, wet kissing
- Biting, licking, sucking, spitting
- Erectile dysfunction, flaccid play, premature ejaculation
- Flexibility, stress postures
- Body hair, pubic hair
- Anthro, monster, alien, robot characters
- Body modifications
  - Genital / nipple piercings
  - General piercings, tattoos
- Clothing Play
  - Latex and leather
  - Punk vibes
  - Uniforms: police
  - Uniforms: priests
  - Uniforms: military
BDSM and Heavy Kink . . .
- Pain-play, sadomasochism
- Leather and latex
  - Hoods, sleep sacks, bondage tape, vac-beds, etc
  - Latex gloves, stockings, corsets, catsuits, bitchsuits
- Heavy bondage and immobilization
  - Mummification, encasement
  - Rope bondage
  - Suspension bondage
- Sensory play
  - Sensory deprivation
  - Over-stimulation
  - Edging and orgasm control / denial
- Chasity cages, CBT, ball-busting
  - Sounding and urethra play
- Watersports, piss-play
- Choking and breath-play
- Fisting, large toys, anal training
- Foot-play, boots, footgear worship
- Discipline and reinforcement
Weird, Extreme, and Unrealistic Kinks . . .
- Monster fucking, tentacles, ugly abominations
- Male pregnancy, birthing
- Vore (hard or soft, fatal or non-fatal, oral, cock, bladder, cooking)
- Ultraviolence and heavy gore
- Body horror, body modifications
- Microphilia and shrinking
- Cumflation, popping
- Death and regeneration
  - Angel Lust
  - "How are you still alive?"
- Permanent bondage
- Permanent encasement
- Classical Torture
  - Waterboarding
  - Sensory Overloading
Hard Limits / The Nope List . . .
- Anything scat-related.
  - Diapers, farting, filth, and so on
- Food-related kinks, feederism, weight gain
- Heavy anime vibes
- Adult baby stuff, age play
- Heterosexual erotica
- Animal abuse
Vanishing Point

Three weeks ago, Morgan had watched a man in lockup beat his own head against a metal bench until the side of his skull had caved inwards. They'd managed to restrain him, and Morgan could still remember just how fucking feral the bastard had looked with half his face swollen, one eye bugged out and facing the wrong direction. The man had slipped into a coma on route to the Massachusetts General Hospital, and two days later he'd died in a fit of convulsions. Morgan had seen his share of shit in his long career, but the pure, raw ferocity of that man had unsettled him; never in his life had he seen someone so determined to pry open their own brain-box.

* * *

"This city's going fucking insane, Buchanan." Bradshaw had said to him one week later. They'd been sitting in the front of an unmarked car, drinking lukewarm coffee and watching the siren's scream in front of a brownstone on the north end.

It had been a real meat-grinder, too. A husband, wife, and a 12-year-old boy had been found cleaved up on the floor of their apartment. They'd died at the hands of their 15-year-old daughter and, as far as forensics could tell, the family had just sat there. They'd let it happen. Hack, slash, plop; each swing of that kitchen knife had cut away another piece of them, painting red the walls, the floor, the fucking ceiling.

When they'd taken the girl out, she'd been calm. Relaxed. She'd asked Morgan if she'd still be able to attend her swim-meet the following afternoon.

"Boston's always been fucking insane, Shaw." Morgan replied.

"It's getting worse."

'Yeah. Suppose it is."

* * *

Last week, Clint Bradshaw had slipped the business end of his Glock 22 between his teeth. They'd all been standing in the briefing room, staring numbly at the increasing list of homicides on the whiteboard, when Clint had simply sauntered up to the front of the group.

"Morgan, buddy," Bradshaw had said. They'd been partners for the last six years and they'd always gotten along well enough.

"Clint." Morgan had replied, brows raised. They had never quite gotten into the habit of calling each other by their first names.

"Been fun, old man."

And then he'd blown his brains out across the case-board.

* * *

It was 3:19 on a Wednesday afternoon and Morgan was doing 45 down Shawmut avenue, heading south from Beacon Hill. White knuckle grip on the wheel, the detective swerved around an SVU, lights flashing. Home. He had to get home. Captain Dalton had been the one to bring him up to speed.

Internal memo, she'd said. Keep it quiet. I'm risking a lot by telling you this, Morgan.

The National Guard was mobilizing. They'd be putting the whole damn city under lock-down. A quarantine zone, because Boston had come in fourth place in the marathon murder-spree that had been plaguing the nation. New York was a write-off and there were rumours -- un-fucking-substantiated rumours -- that a god damn warhead had gone off in the heart of Las Vegas. Meanwhile, hurricane-force winds had been beating against the eastern seaboard for the better part of a month. It was bad up in Boston; it was a hellscape down in Florida. Morgan would't be surprised if there was nothing left of Miami.

If the storms and the crazies didn't kill him, the National Guard surely would. Locking down a sprawling city like Boston would be a logistical nightmare. People were panicked, confused. They were stockpiling supplies and boarding up their windows, looting, fighting, drinking, fucking; in the span of 30-days, the city had gone full Biblical, and Morgan wanted to be far away once the real apocalypse started.

He made a sharp turn onto Massachusetts Ave. He'd follow that to Columbia, he'd follow that to Geneva, he'd follow that to Park Street in Dorchester. A sharp left onto a side road, two blocks down, and he screamed the car to a halt in front of the red brick townhouse that he shared with his son. Keys in hand, Morgan took the front steps in two's.

As he pushed open the front door, he said, "Tell me you're fucking home, kid."

Click to expand...

dear-bones · Monday at 10:09 AM

Bump. Updated things a bit.

dear-bones · 2025-02-21T15:44:47-0600

Mx Male [ a bit of darkness, a bit of softness ]

dear-bones

Meteorite

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Meteorite

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