Full Archetype List
Every role a profile can return, grouped by suit. Each one is a differentshape a first scene can take: what you would be, and what would be done with you. Nothing here is a commitment, and most people see themselves in more than one. Tap any that appeal to you, then send your picks from the form below.
Pentacles
governance · protocol · ownershipThe Thrall
Given over entirely. Your hours, your choices, your habits, all handed across and kept, until deciding for yourself starts to feel like a language you have stopped speaking.
The Devotee
Worship, in earnest. You kneel because the kneeling is the point: eyes up, voice careful, grateful simply to be near enough to attend.
The Attendant
Order kept immaculately. Forms observed, tasks anticipated, everything in place before it is asked for, and a quiet private pride in being found flawless.
The Pet
Kept, and glad of it. Language traded for sounds, decisions traded for a collar, and a creature’s clean happiness in being fed, handled, and owned.
The Captive
Held, and left to feel it. The restraint is the whole event rather than the setup: rope, cuffs, encasement, and the strange relief of having every choice taken but the choice to breathe.
The Penitent
Guilt, given somewhere to go. The confession drawn out of you, the punishment measured to fit the offence, and the wrung-out quiet on the other side of being forgiven.
The Corrupted
Virtue, taken apart. One vow at a time, each line you swore never to cross moved a step closer and then behind you, the sacred handled until it stops being sacred, until the thing that once appalled you is the thing you find yourself asking for.
The Prisoner
Power without appeal. Rules you never agreed to, cruelty with a badge on it, and the airless thrill of being held by someone who owes you nothing.
The Chaste
Teased, edged, denied, controlled. Kept in the most exquisite state of frustration, permission asked for and refused, until wanting is the only thing left in you, and release is not yours to grant.
Swords
conquest · endurance · sensationThe Trainee
Drilled toward better. Repetitions counted, form corrected, failures run again until they stop being failures, and praise you have to earn before it means anything.
The Taken
Instinct, no negotiation. Hands in your hair, weight against you, moved where you are put, and no part of you interested in slowing any of it down.
The Pursued
The hunt, run properly. Flight rather than resistance: breath loud in your own ears, the room shrinking, and the whole scene compressed into the second a hand closes on you.
The Feral
All teeth and instinct. You snarl, thrash, and bite, giving no ground to a voice, only to weight and grip, until being pinned and worn out drains the fight from you and leaves something that finally, warily, submits.
The Brat
Trouble, on purpose. The sharp remark, the rule tested in plain sight, and the grin that admits you did it precisely to be caught and put back in place.
The Prize
Won, not given. You go quiet, go heavy, and yield nothing willingly, so that every inch of you has to be taken and is worth more for having been.
The Masochist
Pain, put to use. Craving rather than endurance: impact placed with intention, intensity built instead of dumped, and a body that keeps turning what should hurt into something it wants more of.
The Unbroken
Built to take it. Blow after blow met and held, jaw set and breath counted, wanting none of it and refusing none of it, until outlasting the ordeal is the whole of the victory.
The Canvas
A surface, and the marks are the point. Color raised deliberately, layered over hours, and carried out of the room on your skin for days afterward.
Cups
nurture · sensuality · seductionThe Darling
Made small, and kept safe. Nothing expected of you, nothing to decide, and a permission you rarely get anywhere else simply to be looked after.
The Adored
Worshipped, and in no rush. Oil, mouth, and full attention spent slowly over you, praised and pampered and handled like something precious, until being the sole object of devotion stops feeling indulgent and starts to feel owed.
The Muse
The work gets drawn out into the open. Every gasp and shiver suggests the next turn, so the scene builds higher than it meant to, until pleasure tips past itself into something closer to catharsis.
The Instrument
Tuned and played. Sensation received rather than endured: edging, teasing, and overload, worked until you ring at an exact pitch.
The Tease
No, said with a smile. The tilted head, the step kept just out of reach, refusals worn thin as lace and meant to be seen through, until being caught pretending to resist is exactly the ending you were playing for.
The Paramour
Wanted, not just used. The unhurried undress, the held gaze, an evening that behaves like an affair rather than a session, tenderness meant and closeness real, and the rare ache of being desired rather than merely taken.
The Coveted
On show, and warm under it. Set where the eyes can find you, lit to be looked at, every shift of weight performed for the room, until being wanted from across it lands like a hand laid on your skin.
The Scorned
Loved least, on purpose. Your devotion accepted and then spent where you have to watch it go, tenderness held a half-step out of reach, and the sharp private ache of caring more than you are chosen, kept near enough to feel every inch of the distance.
The Initiate
The first door. No fixed idea of what you want yet, only a sense that something here is yours and a curiosity you cannot quite name, a preference to be shown rather than asked, and the quiet relief of not being expected to have it figured out before you begin.
Wands
trance · transformation · psychologyThe Subject
Taken under. A single voice the only thing left with edges, thinking handed over a piece at a time, and suggestions still sitting quietly in you tomorrow.
The Entranced
Caught, and held there. A gaze you never think to break, a pull you do not question, thought thinning to a warm blur, until falling deeper stops feeling like surrender and starts feeling like relief.
The Conduit
A channel for the work. A design and your hands, months of small tasks accumulating into something neither side builds alone, and purpose found in being useful to it.
The Doll
A thing, and relieved to be one. Posed, dressed, arranged, and used exactly as wanted, held in whatever shape you are put with no say in any of it, personhood set down like a coat you are glad to be out of for a while.
The Puppet
Worked from the outside. A hand at your jaw turns your head, a tap behind the knee folds you down, the body answering each touch before a thought can arrive, steered and moved and made to perform with never a word of persuasion needed.
The Reshaped
Made over by degrees. Corrected, coaxed, teased and pushed toward a new shape a little at a time, until the version that first felt like a costume settles in as the truer one underneath.
The Toy
Picked up on a whim. Handled, teased, wound up and put down again on someone else’s schedule, and the particular sting of being set aside while you are still wanting.
The Shamed
Brought low, and looked at. The words that land accurately, the posture you are held in, and the heat of knowing exactly how you look while it is happening.
The Ensnared
Outmatched in your own head. Certainties turned gently against you, the ground shifted a degree at a time, what you wanted made to blur, until being outplayed from the inside becomes the thing you keep coming back for.