Sayd's Requests [m/m or m/tg/nb] Dark [New plots]

Started by Sayd, January 14, 2016, 11:19:15 AM

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Sayd

I write the things people are usually too guilty to admit they read. I am not for the faint of heart.

Status:
Seeking.
Added Pick up and GO starters.



Hello! You may call me Sayd, please enjoy your stay. I'm going to try to make this simple and to the point, and maybe later put some more details in. Send me a message anytime to just chat, if you'd like. Sometimes I like to just get to know my partner before jumping into a roleplay.

♞Ninety-nine percent of my roleplays are M//

-On that note, I will play (less likely), and play with trans characters. The only m/f roleplay I will do will fall here. So both f-m or m-f characters welcome.

♞ I only roleplay in threads. I use PMs and chat for planning and ooc only. I do have skype and discord. Ask me for it.

♞ I am est timezone, but I am on a backward schedule. So I am up at all the unholy hours of the night.

♞ I have a few partners that I've been writing with for a long time that will take priority. I don't reply in the order in which replies come in. Don't take it personally.

♞My limits are few. Message me for my F-list. Currently working on my o/o thread


It takes a lot to bother me. There are a few things I don't tend to like:


  • I don't like playing with unrealistically masochistic characters.
  • I don't like writing trans, or playing with trans characters from a fetish perspective. If we come at it realistically, I'm all ears.
  • Fetishizing any sexuality or gender, for that matter. If this is more about getting off, than it is to write creatively and build believable relationships (with hardships) please don't contact me. Sex is not guaranteed with anything I write.
  • I do not play Futa.
  • Underage is obviously not okay, period, but I also don't like FC's that look are made up to look super young either regardless of their actual age.
  • I prefer versatile characters. I'll be honest. People who tell me they only play a sub role is a huge turn off for me. Generally, I know my character's preferences in the bedroom, but many can and will switch roles for the right character.
  • Do not get passive aggressive with me. I will call you out on that shit. If we have a problem let's talk it out like adults. I am very open to communication and am a firm believer that resentment breeds contempt.
  • I don't generally get along with people that are overly sensitive. If my RT offends you in some way, take that as an indicator.
  • I have bad eyes. Please, if at all possible, don't change the color of your text. When I'm on my phone, nothing says 'I'm not reading this right now' than hard to read colors on a white background.
  • PM roleplay. Will not do it at all any longer.
  • I HATE needless filler. I think nothing kills a roleplay faster than this. I don't just mean higher word count, I mean realizing when a scene is finished and when it cannot possibly go anywhere else, and we need to move on (but I also mean fluffing up word count). Please don't do that, and please help me wrap up and transition scenes.
  • People that expect me to carry the plot, even if I'm playing a dominant role. There are ways around this. Get creative, and talk to me ooc. We can help set one another up. Please do not play passively. Just because your character is passive in nature doesn't mean that gives you an excuse.
  • I will not double with two mains at the start of a roleplay. If a supporting character develops naturally to a bigger role, awesome.
  • Don't add kink for the sake of adding kink. I'm not writing a porno. If it starts coming off as unrealistic, I'll shut it down.
  • I very rarely like to include heavy influences of magic in my roleplay. For the right plot, I will make exceptions.
  • Playing with Japanese named characters for no other reason than you like to use Japanese names.
  • Anime face claims. I will sometimes use digital art, but very rarely.
  • I do not appreciate modern political undertones, especially biased ones, coming up in my roleplays. I do not want to talk politics ooc either. Do NOT bring it up. Roleplay for me is a place to be free of all of it and I like to keep it that way


Things that I don't care about that usually tick other roleplayers off:


  • I don't care how frequently you post so long as you communicate with me. Some of my people take long hiatus', or only post once a month. Really, I'm very patient so long as we touch base every once in a while. No, I'm not going to bug you. No, you don't have to be caught up on replies to chat with me. I really don't care, and I'm not going to be pissed.
  • I don't care if you control my character's actions to some degree. I trust my partner enough to do that, so long as it isn't terribly drastic (If it is, simply ask.) I feel like sometimes we tiptoe around our partners and slow things down by waiting around to see if Character one is going to follow Character two into the next room. We've discussed the roleplay, know the plot, and are getting to know the characters. I'm forgiving if a mistake is made. I WILL roll with it. If this is something that irks you terribly, once again, we might not be matched
  • I don't care if you want to talk about the roleplay, or if you want to discuss each post a little after. I have some partners that really enjoy this, and some I don't talk to at all. I'm generally okay with whatever but would like a little communication. That said, I am needy partner friendly.
  • Ending a roleplay. I'd rather us move on if you're not enjoying it, or it doesn't come as easy as we imagined. I will still likely roleplay with someone in the future if they're honest, and I'm pretty laid back about this. I'm not going to throw a tantrum or think poorly of you. Promise. **See bottom of post for some pre-listed excuses for you to choose from.
  • If you ditch, I'm liable to take you back if I liked the plot enough.
  • I will usually do content that makes other roleplayers a bit squeamish such as noncon, torture, gender issues, and other controversial subject matter. You will not offend me if you come to me with a far-fetched idea.
  • I really don't care about post length all that much. I can work with many different styles.
  • Varying degrees of smut, from no smut, to copious amount of smut. I can do roleplays of any level.
  • I don't care about your real life gender. I don't know why this is an issue for some people, but apparently, it is. If you'd prefer to know mine, all you have to do is ask.
  • We all make mistakes. I am really forgiving in this regard.
  • I don't care if you post here, or pm me, but for the love of god do not bump this thread if my status says closed. I'll murder your first-born.


What absolutely makes Sayd ecstatic :
(Please note this is all icing, and more of a please, thank you kind of list.)


  • People that add little surprises, or tie tiny details together. Those that can add their own to the plot, and do more than respond to what I've posted.
    A nice balanced romance where the sex is worth it (if it happens).
  • You know what you want and are not afraid to ask for it.
  • Someone who communicates! Talk to me! I'm friendly and like to befriend my roleplay partners. Any ideas, even if you think them silly, TELL ME! Likely your guilty pleasure will be mine as well.
  • Someone who sets goals for their characters.
  • You have a detailed request thread, some roleplays done outside of pm so that I can see samples and an f-list. If you're new and don't have this, be prepared to tell me about yourself.
  • Someone who will tolerate, and even help me bring in supporting characters. I like to keep things interesting and to provide lots of points of interaction.
  • Worldbuilding. I will love you endlessly if we can put our heads together and create new cultures.
  • People who are versatile in their characters and what they will play, and play with.
  • Consistent partners. I try my best.
  • Real life photos of face claims, or descriptions.
  • Dark subject matter. Nothing is more tempting.

♞Lengthwise, I can do 300-word responses all the way up to 2000 words. I mirror. I'm not picky. I like all. Sometimes a fast paced, short reply roleplay is fun. Sometimes a lengthy one dripping with detail and character thought. Or somewhere in the middle. Quality over quantity.

♞Ditching, again, just tell me. Seriously. There are so many reasons to end a roleplay. I'll list some.


  • I don't have time for this right now, as I have some shit going on.
  • I've lost my muse, and I don't think it's coming back.
  • The characters aren't clicking, and I don't want to force it.
  • The plot is just not working out.
  • We've run into a dead end.
  • I've gotten bored.
  • I'm narrowing my roleplays down to just a few that I really love. This didn't make the cut.

Pick one. I don't fucking care. I won't whine and throw a fit. If you at least tell me what's up, and are honest, I will roleplay again with you in the future. We can try to work things out, or we can drop the roleplay completely. If you need a break but want to leave it open in case your muse comes back, that's fine too, but I understand it's rare that it does happen.


Next post: Plots and cravings.

Sayd

#1
Old, old plots.
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
*Bold are the characters I have the desire to play, but could likely be convinced otherwise.


5.  Straight military man x trans character [Playing two hard tops for this] ***
Also with the element of trans/Abusive boyfriend.
Details -
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
(Kink warnings- non-con, dub con, humiliation, degradation, and overall breaking someone down psychologically)

It would involve some sort of trans character and their [however they wish to identify. I don't really care as long as we're not talking any sex changes. Penis pullease. It's all I ask. Point though, he can fill the role of an attractive and convincing woman].. and their abusive boyfriend. Which I would play, and this would likely be the sort who would invite his friends over to fuck and humiliate his boyfriend. We could throw in a number of kinks we wanted to play out. There are certainly a few things I've not tried. There's going to be a lot of mental abuse and control involved for sure, on top of the sexual things. Of course.. This isn't the main reason I do these sorts of plots. I like to really break a character down like this for development.

I also wish to play another character. My main character, although the abusive boyfriend is going to play a solid role. He's going to be a military man who's left the army, but he's a gentleman at heart. He's going to court your character. He's persistent. He's always been a ladies man. So we throw in an element of affair at some point. Your character gets to play a pretty lady to a man who seems mostly normal, while going back to the abuse at home, and hiding things all around. My character is not going to be some perfect knight and shining armor. Especially once he finds out your character has a dick. We will throw in confusion, and emotional turmoil, to see if eventually they can figure some shit out.


2. Self destructive prostitute x ?? [Would be playing a bottom role for this, but not a submissive character, especially outside of the bedroom]

Who to pair him with... Anyone really, give me your ideas. His shitty boyfriend can also be played as a secondary character, either by me, or by you.

Likely, what I was thinking is he helped some dangerous stranger out and pays for it. Someone comes to his apartment, looking for this dangerous character, and when my character refuses to offer any information, they rape/humiliate him. He still won't talk, more hardened to this sort of treatment than most, able to take it. He'd call your character afterwords to try and figure out if there was a likelihood that they were coming back for him.

More Details -
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Character snippets and profile:
Isaiah
Age: 23
Occupation: Prostitute

Notes: Self destructive, but not a cutter or anything like that. He doesn't harm himself physically at all, but he's addicted to sex. And he'll put himself into bad situations if he's not thinking clearly. He will let someone he thinks he loves literally do anything to him. And it's not like he goes out to find guys who have their shit together. When he's not getting sex, or in some sort of relationship, he turns to drugs. He won't take his prescribed medication most of the time, but during the times when he can't cope with things, he'll put anything into his body. He'd not addicted to any drugs in particular. When he gets to that point, he's not picky. Then on top of that he uses prostitution as a means to pay for his bills, because sex isn't something he minds. He tries to see the good in everyone, and is pretty blinded to all the bad. Super easy to be taken advantage of.

So, he's overall pretty fucked up, but not the self pitying type. Just never had a good example of mutual respect between two adults. There's long standing abuse in his past that he absolutely won't talk about, or face, but that's why he took to the streets at sixteen, and he's felt more at home there than anywhere. He doesn't really want to change, but he wants someone to love, and someone to love him. He's not really picky about how they show it.

Likes: Sex. Coffee. Relationships. Animals.
Dislikes: Being alone.



3. Prince x Slave [Would be playing a hard top]
A royal family has a certain tradition. When the males turn of age, they take a male slave, to dress as woman. His sole job is to keep them entertained until they are ready to marry. It is a daunting task to fill, with many discomforts to undertake. Especially since this last one was purchased from a foreign land with limited time to train him properly. Yet, no one must know of the families secrets, and he must present as female or his life could be on the line. This would require a cunning slave. He can have a decorated background and faced many hardships, but I don't want him entirely broken. See spoiler for Kinks and an intro.


Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
[Warnings- Forced cross dressing, dub-con, humiliation.]

The Heilasinth blood were smart and calculating, and that was what saw their success all the way to the throne. Generations back, they hadn't started off so high ranking, but they worked their way into it over time. They always married above their station, and only always when the time was right. It was the same when they had children. There was standing joke now that one could lure a priest to you bed before you could lure a Heilasinth royal, thought that only made some try harder.

The King, Valran Aiya Hailasinth had married into the throne. The King before him had no sons, only daughters, and he was quick to steal the heart of the woman of quickest wit. The one Valran knew would be a natural queen. Her name was Neela, and she was the oldest daughter, and she took the name of her husband, having faith in the bloodline, and that this man would give her sons where her father had fallen short. She was not disappointed. She had her first son only a year into her marriage. Edenmir Lana Hailasinth, and then her second nearly ten years later, when she had truly been satisfied with only the one. Jausemir Vriden Hailasinth had been a blessing. Both of her children had been, having the same strength of their father, and the same wit as their mother. They were good boys, and she raised them well. They did not need to have the eight children her sister had. She needed to focus her attention on the path of her two boys, because one of them would be crowned one day as the next King of Dusan.

It was coming up on Prince Jausemir's eighteenth birth year, and that was cause for a lavish celebration. The King and Queen couldn't be more proud, and as such, an extravagant event would be hosted, as well as an extravagant gift secured. The older Prince, Edenmir set out personally to secure such a gift. He knew of his brothers taste, and knew he wouldn't go wrong. A foreign slave was picked, as was the tradition. They would only take a Dusanian when they were good and ready to marry. Edenmir had traveled across seas to pick out such a gift, one he was sure would not disappoint. The young man's features were striking, with the darkest hair he'd ever seen, yet still fair of skin. Whatever his background, they could paint him into whatever he needed to be. His searching had taken longer than anticipated for, and as such, he had very little time to actually prepare the young man for his role.

Hardly more than a week, but it would have to be enough time. He'd been snuck into the castle and hidden away. Edenmir had brought his personal slave, the one who had been gifted to him on his eighteenth birthday to teach the man his lessons. The slave was older, just a few years older than Edenmir who had just seen his twenty seventh year. He introduced himself as Calia, not his given name, but that had been long forgotten. He was poised and regal, dressed finely, appearing to be entirely female. He had blond hair, but skin that was a darker shade than most would consider proper. It had earned him a fair amount of grief when he first arrived, but he'd earned his position over the years. He had sat with the new young man, trying to explain what he would become. What he'd have to become in order to be successful. He explained that he had nearly a year to learn everything he needed to know, and that it would be hard on this young man, but he would prove strong, and he would succeed. The first lessons were of course the ways to act like a proper women, and luckily this one was more naturally feminine than he was in appearance. Calia was also put in charge of his dress, which he experimented with colors and styles that looked best on him. The next lessons were some that the young man was going to have to figure out on his own. Calia had given the young man an instrument made of smooth glass, worked into the shape of a phallus, along with a vial of oil. He explained the purpose of it, and how it would need to be used, to prepare the young man.

“It will be on you to ready yourself for him when the time comes that he takes you. You must be wet like a woman, so you had best excuse yourself to see it done. Anytime after that as well, you must be ready for him. This is your purpose. If you do a poor job then your prince will seek the bed of another, and you will be in jeopardy.” Calia knew it was a lot to spring on the man, but it was better that he heard it and prepared, rather than it be sprung on him.

“Don't remove your clothing before you two couple, and don't allow him to see your genitalia at all. Absolutely do not get hard during the intercourse. It hurts if you're tucked, and if it becomes a problem, a device will be used so that it shant be,” Calia spoke, warning him now. He was speaking from firsthand experience on this matter. “A lot of the clothing is made so you might only need to hike up your dress, and the feminine illusion will remain. If you can convince the man that is fucking you you're a woman, you can convince the entirety of Dusan.”

Calia was weaving extensions into his hair.

“Once he marries, you will still remain. They don't get rid of us. It's not like we can be resold. Typically after they are married, they will only use you for the perversions that their wives won't do. It's not such a bad existence really. You will be allowed to pursue some of the skills you are good at, so you can serve the Prince is ways outside of the bedroom when he had less need of that.” Calia considered this all a good thing. Where he was from, he probably would have never lived to his age. Here, he had position, and he'd gotten used to dressing and acting as a woman. It took training, but this one would get it in due time. Calia reminded him of all this the night he was to be presented. Prince Edenmir had come to check on them, his eyes scrutinizing the young man.

“Synch his waste tighter, Calia! He needs to have the curves of a woman, not the body of a skinny tree,” Edenmir scolded, wanting everything to be perfect. Calia nodded, but was careful. This young man hadn't the time to adjust to all of this. He knew the pain of broken ribs as a result, but this one still needed to look the part.

"You will adjust,” he spoke as he tightened the laces another inch. “Edenmir is strict, but he'd not unkind. Prince Jausemir is a good young man as well. I don't have my doubts that he will be decent to you,” Calia spoke, trying to soothe.


***​


The food was something that kept piling in to the expansive dining hall of the Dusanian castle, and the wine flowed even more freely. Prince Jausemir had danced with nearly everyone he'd come in contact with, but never more than once. He was wearing a silk shirt that billowed except where it was tapered to his waist and a fine pair of trousers. He had broad shoulders and his form was lightly muscled from training with a bow, and on horseback. He was tall as well, but not nearly as bulky as his more thickly corded brother. Still masculine of body, his face was a mix of things. He had sharp almond shaped eyes of amber and long lashes, but a strong jawline. His lips were full, his cheekbones high and regal. He wore his platinum blond hair to his shoulder blades, but it didn't give the affect of making him look too feminine. He was just the right mix that had many women on his tail, trying to secure him as their own, something he knew he was not ready for. He'd entertain them for a dance before moving on politely. He would still likely fill out more with age, as most Heilasinth seemed to do.

No gifts had been awarded to him this night, and he knew he would only receive one. It would be an insult to present a living being alongside idle treasures. He was anxious to see the person he would share a great deal of time with. The person who would remain in his life for the rest of it, even if only later as an adviser. He'd been made known what their relationship would be like from the beginning. It made him a bit nervous to allow a stranger so close right off the bat, but he was told that the person would be trained for it. Their main purpose was to serve him in the pleasures of the flesh, and if they failed that, then another would be sought to replace him. It had not happened in many generations, but everyone was always on edge those first few weeks.

Jausemir had manage to pull himself away from mingling with the crowd to come sit down beside his father while he sat on the throne. Jausemir had a cup of wine in hand, and his clothing was sticking to him with sweat. King Valran was pleased to see his son enjoying the night as he was.

“Edenmir, I think we've had him wait quite long enough,” the King spoke, and Edenmir made motion for the musicians to stop playing. People scurried to their respectful places where the carpet leading through the entire room all the way up to the thrones was laid out. Calia knew this was his cue to lead him through and all the way to his new prince. Calia remembered it to be a long and daunting path, made so that all eyes would be on him as he was walked forward.


4. Prince x Bodyguard [Would be playing mostly a non-submissive bottom with a chance for the occasional switch]

/ NEW IDEA - I'd like to also try a theme involving a prince who suffers abuse (both mentally, and sexually) from his father. This would require a proud character who would not show any of this outwardly. He might be difficult to deal with, not liking touch or social things, and rather independent. I'd like the other main character to be a bodyguard. This one might take on a more romantic tone, with the bodyguard character probably having some morals of his own. Something where the two of them would be made to suffer together, and act carefully in order to get themselves out of the situation. The Prince may rather be in denial of it, to allow it to go on rather than risk his people finding out about the vile things that had been done to him. This would not be a theme where I'm expecting a knight in shining armor. My character is going to have to work to navigate his problems. Might include blackmailing the bodyguard into sexual things with the prince in the future. Would be willing to play the father in this.

5. Wolf breeding facility - [Playing an aggressive top]
It's going to be a world where humans thought it would be great fun to breed their own werewolves and start pitting them against one another in fights. It's like the new football of sports. Okay, so I said breeding right? That means studs too, which is what I intend for my character to be.

What they will do with boys not cut out for the fighting world is use them to help train the studs to breed. New studs, unruly studs, or in my case, a stud who refuses females. So it'd be a bit dark, as they wouldn't keep too many of these sorts around, so your guy is never going to know what he's to encounter. I was thinking that have sort of contraptions to hold him in place if he wouldn't be still. They'd be rather animalistic, some more than others from lack of education, but we could branch off from there. Have them escape and learn of the world, and real packs, two rather dysfunctional werewolves. One who's bred for aggression, and the other who's used to every male wolf he's met trying to top him.

I'm thinking as far as their forms, they'll be pretty standard human looking, and then as basic but larger wolves. Simple. With obviously no naughty naughty in their wolf forms. If we add any for the sake of humiliation, I'd prefer it was glossed over. Beastiality is not my thing.


6. Roman x Gladiator roleplay. [Playing a dominant bottom.]
The character I've been wanting to play is perhaps the son of some well off family. His father would likely be some high ranking military officer, so although he might be spoiled and entitled, and wouldn't be a weenie either. Rather clever and cunning, just used to getting what he wanted. He'd take interest in a specific gladiator. Their family wouldn't own gladiators, so he would belong to someone else, which could add an element of tension. I kind of like things that put physically strong characters in positions that lack power. I want to clarify too that I'm all about EVENTUAL mutual respect, regardless of roles.


7. Another man's slave x foreign embassador [Playing a gentlemanly top with the chance to switch.] Very picky
A plot involving a character who has gotten involved with a powerful man's slave. I would like to play the involved man. I have a few ideas for this running through my head, but I do not want to play with a completely submissive slave character. I'd actually prefer him to be a switch. I will be extremely picky with this plot, and it has to have a new spin on the old master x slave plots. I'm thinking the slave character is more cunning and spiteful than self pitying. Do not apply with anything too submissive here.


8A. Prison roleplay [Playing a dominant top.] -- Heavy non-con, gangbang.
I'd like to do a prison type of roleplay. The first rendition of this plot would be involved around an already established romance between a psychotic crime lord or assassin, and another young man. Something goes down. Things get messy. The young man ends of taking the rap for a murder he didn't commit. He ends up in prison, with more than one inmate seeking a private moment with him. He's not cut out for prison life. Most keep their distance, because he's well protected, but a certain betrayal leads to a violent rape meant as a message to his lover. Once the crime lord receives word of this, he'd going to do something to get him thrown in jail as well, intent on revenge. His layers are going to have a hard time with this one. I'd prefer to play the crime lord.


8B. Prison roleplay [Playing a naive bottom.] -- Non-con elements, dub con.
Another prison sort of roleplay, only with a character thrown in without protection. He's going to have to figure his way out of this one. Maybe there are allies to be had? Just what is it going to cost him? I prefer this role for this one, and would like the other person to play one main, and other possible side characters. It's going to be a focus on the lesser of evils. You don't have to bring a necessarily good man to the table for this one.

That's alll for now. I'll put more up at another time, but feel free to send me plots if you think I might be interested. Worst I can do is say no. I will tell you I'm more tempted to darkplots.

9. Alpha/Omega -- forced mpreg
I want to do some sort of omegaverse story. I'd like it to be something around a breeding facility, perhaps? Or an omega in hiding. I don't really have anything solid, and I have no preference in what I'd play. Come to me and help me build up this plot.

10. Centaur/Commander[Playing a switchy character.] -- Warnings up to us.
In this plot, soldiers ride centaurs into battle. They work as one, and win wars together. Humans challenged every creature they couldn't control. Centaurs are treated little more than beasts of burden, thrown away when they serve out their usefulness. They are loyal by nature, but every creature has it's limits. One commander had a powerful beast. A beast that would have done everything to serve. He was injured. It was mild. He would have recovered, but the commander chose to sell him instead. He bought a better bred mount, and many years passed. The centaur never fully got over the way he was treated, and eventually things changed. The creatures began working together to make a stand against the humans. Loyalties shifted. They'd met their limit. The centaur who'd been betrayed by his rider rose to lead an army against them. They brought them to their knees. They knew their tactics. What will happen when this risen commander sees his previous rider many years later?

Added plots:
Plot 11

Warnings: Violence, war torn region

Setting: Fantasy; worldbuilding options

Role preference: The fleeing commander.

We'd have a large kingdom, one that wishes to conquer just about everything near it. They have an easy way to control the dragons that doesn't require hand raising them, and really putting in the time. They just feed them a type of drug that makes them easy to control. The downside is it makes the dragons kind of neurotic over time, slowly poisoning them. The king would have sent his commander and his armies to fight yet another battle, and during it, his dragon is severely wounded. The commander is tired as well. He realizes he isn't going to win this one, and even if he did, he'd just be sent on another mission to kill more and clear more land. So, he just takes his dragon and leaves towards the ocean. He has no real idea what's out there, just that there was talk of his king wanting to find out. He'd stumble upon a nation of people so different from his own. What will he find?



Plot 12a werewolf x werewolf

Warnings: Jealously, love triangles, knotting, werewolves, primal instinct.

Setting: Any

Role: Either

Being an alpha should have come naturally to him. He didn't realize that it would actually be work. Instead of working at it, he took the easy way out, and left. He decided it would be better if he was on his own. When he returns some years later, is he even allowed to be angry at the person who stepped at and took his position? Yes, when that person was someone he trusted, and has since stolen his mate, and his life essentially. What was supposed to be his life anyway.

12b werewolf x human

Role : Human

Setting: Modern

Character 1 was always told he would know it when he saw his mate. Unfortunately for him, when he does finally meet him, it's under undesirable circumstances. A rival pack was well known for making play things out of vulnerable humans, and during a skirmish a certain 'toy' is discovered. Character 1 is drawn to him, knows he's supposed to be his mate regardless of the situation. Only now, the human is not only angry, but possesses a harsh resentment towards wolf kind as a whole.



Plot 13

Warnings : Physical and psychological abuse, non con, sexual encounters between more than just the main characters

Setting: Tribal fantasy

Role: Character 1

This will be a roleplay involving around a base sort of tribe. Hunter and gatherers sort of thing. Ch 1 (a young tribesman) would get involved with one of his fellow tribesman, and somewhat of a relationship would build. They'd get caught in the act, and the thing with his tribe is that homosexuality, at least being the receiver, is something to be looked down upon. He'd be seen as weaker, and this would lead way to abuse and taunting by the other tribe members. The initial tribesman would betray him by not offering him sort of support, even after their involvement. I want to play with the psychological aspect of this.

For the second main character, he could be anyone really. I was giving thought to him being someone who wasn't from the tribe, but instead from a different culture and part of the world. Help me hammer this out.



Plot 14

Warnings: up to us, many possibilities but I definitely want some sort of corruption aspect.

Setting: Post apoc, AU most likely.

Post apoc setting where groups of people were 'sectioned' to to an expansive dome bunker. They were set to assess conditions before they would ever open, but most generations wouldn't see the day that they ever did. It's now up to us to explore the possibilities for when there is the option to venture outside, into the damaged world. There are twenty six original bunkers in total, each self sustainable. As a result of the isolation, they groups have grown vastly different culturally. A handful even destroyed themselves. There any many possibilities for this, and I'd like to discuss options with a partner that feels as inspired as I do.


Current crave

1. Victim/Savior ***

A decade earlier YC was reported missing. Known for his promiscuity and adventurous lovelife, it was assumed he'd run off with someone, only he never returned home. Present day he's assumed dead. His family and friends have mourned and moved on. Only a decade earlier his adventurousness would prove to his detriment and he was taken captive by a mysterious stranger. He's learned to get by through appeasement and learning to live by his captors rules. They've fallen into a routine. YC is trained to behave and play by the rules. The captor has proven time and time again that no one cares enough to help a victim. He's destroyed YCs perspective on humanity as a whole and made him fully reliant on his captor/caretaker. The captor is bold, taking YC to public places more frequently to further solidify his lessons, cruising bars and clubs for various hookups.

MC is a police officer on temporary leave with a background in criminal profiling. He's trying to take some time off from his career, but a night out brings attention to something he cannot ignore. It could be a subtle clue YC gives off, or a simple feeling that something isn't right. MC is in tune to human behavior and intervenes on behalf of YC after years of mindplay and torment. MC tries to remain profession and keep his distance as a court case erupts, but inevitably both characters are drawn to one another.

-Serious slowburn. MC is not going to want to risk reviving his career, reputation, and morals to persue a romantic relationship with the victim but with time as YC regains his agency they can overcome those obstacles.

2. Defeated Prince/ To be discussed

Prince of a defeated nation is spared in exchange for his submission and political cooperation. The remaining loyalists to his late father would consider him a traitor for his submission and he likely isn't welcomed warmly in the country that defeated his.

3. Arranged Marriage

MC agrees to a political proposal in order to give his sisters more time while saving his families reputation and finances. MC is an artist, and YC has been a long time buyer of his private works. MC has experience running an estate. He is old enough to be set in his ways, experienced, cunning, and certainly no pushover. YC may have idealized what he though he was getting in a husband.

4. Merman x Fisherman

Private fisherman catches and injures a merman in his trawling net. Remains at sea in the hopes to release the creature.

*This would probably do best as an interesting little short story but we can discuss details.

5. Would involve worldbuilding and political intrigue.
Son of warlord comes to make an alliance with a neighboring nation. There an intense sort of romance developes between him and a proud older slave. The will be challenges and arguements. No predetermined bedroom roles and I would like to see some versatility.
Neighboring country and several characters developed. I'm looking for someone to play the warlord's son. Not your usual master x slave scenario. Want to know more? Message me.

Also bringing this one back

1. Straight military man x trans character [Playing two hard tops for this]
Also with the element of trans character/Abusive boyfriend.
Details -[/s]
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
(Kink warnings- non-con, dub con, humiliation, degradation, and overall breaking someone down psychologically)

It would involve some sort of trans character and their [however they wish to identify.] They can fill the role of an attractive and convincing woman.. and their abusive boyfriend. Which I would play, and this would likely be the sort who would invite his friends over to fuck and humiliate his boyfriend. We could throw in a number of kinks we wanted to play out. There are certainly a few things I've not tried. There's going to be a lot of mental abuse and control involved for sure, on top of the sexual things. Of course.. This isn't the main reason I do these sorts of plots. I like to really break a character down like this for development.

I also wish to play another character. My main character, although the abusive boyfriend is going to play a solid role. He's going to be a military man who's left the army, but he's a gentleman at heart. He's going to court your character. He's persistent. He's always been a ladies man. So we throw in an element of affair at some point. Your character gets to play a pretty lady to a man who seems mostly normal, while going back to the abuse at home, and hiding things all around. My character is not going to be some perfect knight and shining armor. Especially once he finds out your character has a dick. We will throw in confusion, and emotional turmoil, to see if eventually they can figure some shit out.

2. Another man's slave x foreign embassador [Playing a gentlemanly top with the chance to switch.]
A plot involving a character who has gotten involved with a powerful man's slave. I would like to play the involved man. I have a few ideas for this running through my head, but I do not want to play with a completely submissive slave character. I'd actually prefer him to be a switch. I will be extremely picky with this plot, and it has to have a new spin on the old master x slave plots. I'm thinking the slave character is more cunning and spiteful than self pitying. Do not apply with anything too submissive here.

Sayd

#2
Fandom!

m/m

Shameless
Ian x Mickey Milkovich
Mickey Milkovich x criminal
Lip x AA sponsee

Westworld
Hector Escaton
Logan
Felix Lutz
Lawrence
The Man in Black
Any combination / potential for OCs

Fear the walking dead
Troy x Nick
Troy x OC

Spartacus
Agron x Nasir


f/f , f/m , and m/m

Euphoria
Rue x Jules
Rue x Fezco
Jules x Nate
Cal x male OC

Sayd

#3
Pick up and GO starters.

1. The Favor

Aching veteran soldier x Slave

Razvan is called in to look after a friend and superior officer's estate, Marcellus. There he uncovers that his friend is an enemy sympathizer, and that he harbors and out of fashion slave. Captured and sold as a child, the slave is well behaved but his features mark him a distinct foreigner. As hostilities between the nations mount, most have disposed of their foreign bred slaves. Complications arise when Marcellus fails to return from his latest campaign.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide


Razvan was never happy when he was still. He'd been raised to be a soldier. His father had been before him, and he was not happy to be sitting this battle out. Especially when men he had fought alongside for years were still out there. He'd never admitted to his discomfort, or complained about it, but they could see. They could tell by how stiff he was at times, and by how much effort it took him to mount his horse. He usually dismounted last, and his friend Marcellus, the only one he'd allow to see him how he was, would help him to his tent after a long day.

They'd tried different saddles, different horses, but it was clear the problem was with his own body. He'd led a hard life and had an accident on a green horse where it had flipped over onto him many years back. He'd cut his recovery short in favor of rejoining the war efforts. He supposed he was paying the price now. The news came that he would be remaining home and he felt left behind. Marcellus had asked for a favor. Said there was no one he trusted more to watch over his estate, but Razvan knew better. Marcellus had never married, and the place was usually left behind. It was fully staffed with paid servants, and he made mention of a slave that might help do him some good. Marcellus knew Razvan wasn't used to comfort, and he wouldn't take it unless it was thrust upon him.

Marcellus' orders to his slave were simple. Be good to the man who would be in charge, listen, and behave. He'd never expected much from the slave except for what he'd told him to do. Usually just household tasks. He was fair in temperament, but he still expected that the slave would stay out of his way. He had not been one to socialize much, and he didn't usually have guests.

Razvan agreed to the favor. He promised Marcellus that the home would be in perfect order when he returned. At least he was doing something, and hopefully some time off would do him good. He was convinced that he wouldn't miss the next campaign. He did not want to admit that this very likely was the end of the road for him as a soldier. They shared a drink together the night before Marcellus headed out. It had never mattered between the two where they had come from. There was a mutual respect there because on the field title didn't matter between men. They said their farewells, and Marcellus told him to get laid for him while he was out.

Typically, Razvan was a bit promiscuous. He seemed to like both men and women equally, though casual sex with men was much easier. He was a shameless flirt, and a charmer. He used flattery to lure someone to his bed.

He set off for Marcellus' estate the next day, taking his horse. The beast wasn't overly tall, but muscular. He was sore from the trek to the more remote location, but he was damned if he was going to take a carriage. They'd been well prepared for his arrival. He'd snapped at a servant who tried to help him down from his horse without meaning to. They bowed and didn't offer assistance again. He dismounted tenderly and let the man take his horse. Marcellus had a decent sized stable. The beast would be plenty comfortable. The home was of considerable size as well, three stories, made from multi-hued granite. The outside was well manicured as well, the grass lush and green, the bushes neatly trimmed. It was no wonder Marcellus needed a competent staff to keep the place up. One man simply couldn't do it by himself. It made him respect Marcellus all the more. He came from privileged nobility and he still chose to serve.

The inside was just as flawless decorated with rich cherry oak furniture, and carved accents. It all looked very comfortable, and Razvan thought about dropping himself onto the first velvet couch he encountered.

The servants all lined themselves up, politely introducing themselves. Razvan counted them. He was dressed in simple riding leathers and a clean linen shirt. He was corded muscle, but not bulky and he wasn't very tall. He had a narrow waist and broad shoulders. His skin was tanned from being outdoors. He had a few days of dark stubble on his face and his brown hair was shoulder length and a bit unkempt. His eyes were just as dark as his hair. It was clear the staff didn't quite know what to think of him. He probably hadn't been what they expected.

"I was told there was one more. Am I mistaken?" he inquired.

"Ahh, no. The slave is here. I just wasn't aware you wanted to be formally introduced," she told him. The paid servants didn't have much to do with the slave either. They were of different classes, and they already had their pre-established relationships. Razvan nodded at that. As long as he was present, and hadn't run off somewhere.

He made his way up the stairs gingerly. He had the dilemma of picking which room he was going to call his own. There were far too many, all furnished, and truly Razvan was thinking of picking something on the second floor. He knew Marcellus' room was on the third, and no doubt it was locked up to keep the servants from plundering.


2. Indulgence

High value slave x Pirate Captain

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide


[IMG align="right" width="172px"]https://i.imgur.com/3yDrjwk.jpg?1[/img]Altair hated being on this god forsaken ship. On board, his master of course, and a bunch of undeserved nobles. Not that his master wasn't one of those undeserved nobles.. But, he had a few redeeming qualities. In that he wasn't quite a stupid as most. Marcellus was the man's name that had owned him for the better part of a year now. He had learned the man, and while he wasn't always agreeable, Altair generally got what he wanted.


Altair liked the finer things in life. He liked good food. He liked fine housing. He was trained in the art of entertainment, and he liked to be entertained himself. Currently, he was dressed in colors of fine silks. It clung to his form, and when he walked, blew around him in the salted air. Dressed in purple, he looked like a storm cloud, and that was exactly what was forming on the horizon.

Altair was pure Dusanian, a small continent which was probably north of them at this point. He had been trained there, grown up there. They were well known for their extravagant slaves. He had been trained in dance, servitude, and of course pleasures of the flesh. He was dangerously sensual and entirely calculating. He had actually picked this last master of his. Played the type he knew he would like. Marcellus was not overly aggressive, and easy to manipulate. He had other masters that were not so, but he chalked that up to learning experiences.. He'd not see him in a situation like that again. No, Altair took care of himself. It helped that Dusanians educated the slaves they sold as well. He could read and write. Marcellus actually had him write out letters to other men of importance. Not that it wasn't terribly boring..

Altair did not care for any of the formalities that went with the nobles he served. He'd dreamed of better things. He was actually excited about taking to sea, thinking it would be different. Thinking something would finally happen. It turned out to be the same old thing. Only, he was ignored mostly. Like he was a simple piece of furniture. Of course, he had drawn attention, but none of the men would look twice knowing Marcellus owned him. Altair wasn't scared of his master, but many were.

The young man had been lounging, eating a piece of red fruit. It tainted his lips just slightly. That alone spoke to how wealthy these men were, that they had fruit on the seas. They had quite a bit of other silly little trinkets too. Jewels, weaponry, fine clothing. They had just come from a region to the east of them, and were on their way to Ellania, their home country. Altair would never consider it his home though.

Suddenly, the ship lurched.

As if.. it was turning suddenly. Altair dropped the fruit he was eating and sat up, starting to the deck. Men were rushing around. The captain, a gruff weathered man looked concerned. And the nobles were throwing down a smaller boat. What the hell was going on?

It dawned on him, as they started in, that they were fleeing!

Altair's green eyes scanned the seas, and he could just barely make it out. But there was definitely an unknown ship in the distance, hidden in front of the ominous clouds. He could hear Marcellus shouting orders to him. Retrieve the jewels. Altair blinked, but went below deck as he was bid.

A blessing or a curse. The sounds of slaughter and screams sounded even over the roaring waves and lurching seas. Altair was a dancer, not a fighter. The ship remained intact. His only hope was to hide below and pray that the vessel would drift without a captain.


3. Anima Gemella

Matched x Bodyguard

Fandom - The One (TV series)
The premise is basic enough that it isn't necessary to watch the show. My two main characters are original and I tried to write the starter so that anyone could pick it up.

DNA researchers have found a way to match people to their soulmates, but the system is not without flaws. Emiliano Nezair is one of these matched to a well to due major shareholder of the company. It should be the perfect romance. No reason to stray. That is until Emiliano takes a special interest in his newly assigned bodyguard.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide


Samuel and Emiliano Nezair. The homosexual power couple of the century. Samuel had been one of the first major investors in the dating ap company that matched individuals with their soulmate. He was the main backer of Rebecca Webb and current CEO of the company. Both had a decorated past, getting ahead by whatever means necessary, and so they made sure to look out for and protect one another. Samuel respected the woman's tenacity as well as her cold and unclouded desire to grow the company.
When Rebecca had come to him the first time he'd laughed her and her buisness partner, James, out of his office. They'd just been two DNA researchers and Samuel had no interest in romantic notions of love, nor did he believe the company would succeed. Dating aps were small game, yet Rebecca was determined. He should have sued her when she'd plucked a hair from his carefully manicured head and run his DNA.

She showed up to his office next, with the then Emiliano Greco. A young groundskeeper plucked from some nameless vineyard in the country hills of Italy. It was then that he knew that they'd make billions, because it had worked. He'd been drawn to Emiliano like no other. Dangerously possessive, he'd married him right away, and Emil had been enamored with him just the same. His life had changed drastically, yet it had been exciting. Sudden wealth, status, and love had been intoxicating. Suddenly the world was at the beck and call of his fingertips. At first, it had been easy. Emiliano hardly spoke english, and Samuel did the talking during their speeches and testimonials. Emil only had to stand there and look the part of adoring husband. As representatives of the company, contracts were signed stating they would behave in a certain way. Nothing to contradict their devotion to one another.

There was a small public disturbance where the couple had a rift in their domestic bliss. Emil had been screaming in Italian, Samuel trying to sooth his ire. Behind closed doors, action had been taken against the outburst, because Samuel would not be made a fool in public. Certain things made more clear. He controlled their cash flow, and most of Emil's life. He'd been nothing before their marriage, and Emiliano learned how to conduct himself in the public eye. He learned English as well, and quickly molded to the vision he needed to be. Adoring and starry eyed, he was soon doing his own speeches and interviews. The public preferred his warm demeanor over the cold business type that Samuel would always be.

Over the years Emil had perfected the act. The company had grown exponentially, and Samuel had dropped all of his other ventures to focus solely on The One. He and Rebecca strong-armed decisions together, forcing out shareholders that did not see their vision. It was what he was good at, and they were both cutthroat. Emil was more whimsical. He did what he wanted, though with their power and fame came risk. He did not go anywhere without personal security. The Nezair name had simply grown too many enemies, mostly Samuel's doing. It could be annoying, but Emil ignored them. Much like a bland piece of furniture. Eventually you forget that they were there, especially if they were good at their job. Samuel did the hiring and Emil didn't usually care one way or another. He did briefly notice that this fellow was new, but didn't pay it much more passing thought than that as he scanned his thumb to let himself into the building. The larger man opened the door behind him, crowding him a bit more than most generally would have. Emil wrote it off as him being a kiss ass, starting his morning rounds.

Since this fellow was new, it did mean he didn't understand his usual routines. No need to keep following him around once inside the company building, though he hadn't seemed to realize their measure of security already in place. Throwing off his usual flow. A huff, he tried not to be annoyed at the new guy's hovering. Emil decided he'd send him on an errand.

"Espresso and maritozzi," Emil told him, shooing him with a wave of his wrist. He didn't tell him that the small italian cafe was hidden, or even what a maritozzi was, hoping it would buy him some peace until the man knew his individual preferences. His security guard usually got him his food, as an office assistant apparently couldn't be trusted. He had endorsement deals to go over with the most appealing matches, more contracts to be signed if they took them on as representation of the company. And a few unmatched celebrities as they went through their 'search' for their soulmate publicly. All very dramatic and theatrical on account of their team of writers and directions.



4. Warprize

Loose Roman Historical

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Cassius Aemilius Lucius  respected his father above all else, and it was this respect that made him strive to follow in his father's footsteps. They were big shoes to fill, but he spawned from a proud and regal family. His father was Tatius Lucious, imperator to Rome, and had served the final blow in Carthage. He'd given most of his life to the Roman military, and had worked his way tirelessly through the ranks. He was forty six at his true peak, and retired from the military at fifty years old, after spending four years mostly training newer soldiers. Cassius was among those men, and serving beneath his father, he was never awarded any special privileges. Serving beneath others they were quicker to award him rank because of his prestigious family name. Cassius had joined the ranks when he was sixteen. By the time he was twenty, he was awarded position of centurion, commanding eighty men. He spent some time after that as Primus of the first cohert. By the time he was twenty four years old, he was given position of Legatus to an entire legion. It had taken his father more than ten years longer than that to reach such a title, and Cassius was not so sure it was because he reached his skill and tactical prowess that much quicker.

Cassius' tribunus was a man thirteen years older than he was, but a patient and quiet man. He gaze no indication that he was put upon to serve someone much less experienced, and Cassius took him as a close adviser, and a true second. Not everyone was as accepting, and Cassius knew some whispered behind his back. He had not yet earned their respect as their Legatus, brand new as he was. Still, like his father he maintained a cool head even under pressure. To show them that he was capable they were start encroaching on Macedonia. Other legions had thought about it, but stepping foot into a new territory and would take some balls. It was the exact sort of move his father would expect out of him, and the idea of disappointing his father was much worse than disappointing his legion.
“This is the time to strike, Cassius. Word has been sent that Illyria will open their doors for us, to make the push. Macedonia will not see it coming,” Tribunus Decimus spoke, sitting in a tent looking through letters. His skin had age to it, past his years, and his light brown hair curled in tight rings close to his scalp. Cassius thought he was much more the picture of a proper Legatus. He, on the other hand had smooth, unwrinkled skin, hardly a scar marking his years. He was lightly tanned, shades darker than his fair brother. His eyes were a dusty blue, and his short hair a rich brown.

“Can Illyria truly be trusted in this?” Cassius questioned, plucking at the strings of his armor.
“Even if they did, with your men, they would be stupid to consider it. We will plan for both outcomes, of course,” Decimus spoke, lifting his brown eyes to Cassius. “You really should get a slave to do that. Why didn't you bring one from your villa? Your family must have more than you know what to do with.”

“I thought to, but my brother spit acerbic words at me when I tried. He says the house slaves are not meant for harsh travels and military camps. I didn't care to bother with buying a new one, and my father always said it is best to learn to do for yourself first,” Cassius explained as he stubbornly went about pulling the armor off himself.
“If things go as predicted, you will have many a slave to choose from. I do not imagine the city will see us coming,” Decimus spoke.
And it appeared that they were correct.

Cassius sat astride a refined black gelding wearing a gilded breast plate and a crimson saddle blanket with golden tassels. He wore a muscled curaiss, embossed with silver design work. His helmet matched, and atop it sat a tall plume of vertical red-dyed horse hair. Another splash of crimson was the tied sash around his shoulders, making for a distinctive sight when they came charging in. Beneath the armor he wore a woolen tunic, and a focale to prevent shafing around his shoulders and collar bones. Around his waste he wore a leather belt with dangling straps where his gladius was attached to. He was resting his hand upon it when he turned to look to the man sitting quietly beside him, then back to everyone else awaiting commands. His centurions were at the ready, marked by their transversely mounted crests.

“Tell the others that they can have the other villages, but the city of Pella is ours,” Cassius spoke, cantering off to further rile the men. Illythia had sent their own smaller army to march with them, likely a fail safe in the chance that the young Legatus could not accomplish what he set out to do. Better to make sure the job was done than to allow Macedonia to regroup after a betrayal, but Cassius found that he was not worried. His words carried to his men, and proved to work himself up in the process as well.

“We will bring glory to Rome!” he shouted, raising his gladius to his Aquilifer who raised the mounted eagle higher in response. Cassius motioned and the horn sounded. He let his horse charge at the distinct sound, a noise the animal was conditioned to.
They cut quickly through unsuspecting villages as they marched towards Cassius' true goal. If word had reached the city, it would be too late by the time Pella readied their defenses. The ease of taking gave Cassius confidence, and he didn't hesitate when he pushed his horse towards Pella. He was decorated in blood, and at the ready, cutting through scrambling guards, shouting orders to make their initial push hard and aggressive. Any hesitation would only give Pella time to think of some sort of plan, and Cassius wanting as many of his men standing at the end of this.

And so they kept the rich city scrambling and divided. Screams sounded throughout the night, and they painted the city in the blood of the dead. Homes were burned. When those capable of making a stand against them dwindled, Cassius issued orders that prisoners be taken to the heart of the city and held there.

Cassius had long since abandoned his horse to cut through any remaining apposition with expert swings of his gladius. He'd been well trained, both by his father and the best Rome had to offer. His younger brother was an even more brilliant swordsman than he was, but he lacked the practice Cassius had in actual battle. Things were different during the chaos, and Cassius knew how to use that to his advantage. With things coming to an end, he felt a harsh clap to his back, and then a harsh shake to his armor. He turned to see Decimus grinning at him.

“Your first true accomplishment. I think it is time for you to claim a slave to commemorate such a feat. Or several, if you so choose,” Decimus spoke proudly, and Cassius thumped him on the shoulder right back. He made his way to the center of the town, giving further orders to gather all the rest that held value. Cassius held his head proudly, and though it wasn't one of the most difficult wins, men already looked to him with more respect than before. His father would be just as proud, and those were his thoughts as he marched the steps of the city of Pella to claim his prize.



5. Kämpfer

Gladiator x ???

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Tatius Arius Lucius had a reputation in Rome, along with rank and respected title. He was a serious man with a brilliant mind for tactics and a deep love of family. After leading his army to victory in Corinth he was bestowed title of Imperator*; the highest honor a military commander might achieve. He’d gone into semi-retirement after, training new soldiers and paving the way for his two sons to follow in his footsteps. His eldest, Cassius, was quickly making a name for himself in his military pursuits, but Tatius set aside time for leisure as well. He loved the roman games and enjoyed betting against his children. That soon branched into owning gladiators, and only the best would do for a man such as himself. He would not have his name shamed with the weak.

Atticus hadn’t gone unnoticed by Tatius and so the imperator made a bold offer that the gladiator’s prior owner couldn’t refuse. A decent gladiator, but not yet at his peak. Tatius would see that he reached it in the years to follow.

The Flavian Amphitheater was familiar to the both of them at that point. Tatius always entered his preferred gladiator into the games, always in situations where he knew it possible for the man to succeed. He was not unfair, or unduly cruel. He had high standards but just like his soldiers, he kept his gladiators well fed, well tended, and above all else, well trained. Each region seemed to have different tactics for warfare. He expanded on their knowledge and showed them other styles as well, guiding their strengths. Atticus likely lived a more lavish lifestyle than even the average citizens of Rome. Tatius was known for being a rewarding man to serve, at least to those who stood out. He was also known to be harsh to those who didn’t.

Things were starting to get exciting. Tatius sat in the pulvinus as usual with other important members of society, looking down into the arena. Atticus was below, being prepped for his next fight. They were discussing an unusual group of men captured from Germania set to fight against the home favorite. Tatius snorted.

“They’ve little to offer us. Simpleminded barbarian savages. We are better off in other pursuits. Germania is a shithole.” Tatius didn’t hold his opinions. His sons were quick to argue. They got into further discussion on the topic when a sort of experiment was proposed.

“If they put up a good fight against my gladiator, I will reprieve one man. I will even buy him off of whoever holds ownership,” Tatius decided.

“Bold words when Atticus is not trained against their tactics and you’ve allowed them to set him against so many,” Cassius responded, clearly disproving.

“I train mine to adapt to every scenario. Atticus will be fine. Neither are these savages familiar with our tactics.”

A man stood to announce the added incentive and the crowd cheered, pleased by the news.




Dagrunderstood to some degree what was going on. You fought. That was a concept he understood. So far, they’d only put him against men who were not familiar to him. This time seemed different. He was being readied with men of his homeland, some from neighboring tribes, others from his own. Brothers. He’d always loved to fight but for the right reasons. This seemed a form of entertainment. Not for land, or woman, or perceived slight. He’d seen animals and men the likes of which he’d never encountered. Beasts from faraway lands. The more bizarre the more people shouted.

He could feel the excitement this time. Something was different. This was larger. The armor they provided for him was close to useless, clearly castoffs from dead men, but it was something at least. The weapon was of slightly better quality and a shield was provided. That suited just fine. He was used to fighting and hunting with spear. Usually he carried a short-sword as well but when asked for one they either didn’t understand him or simple didn’t care.

The arena was empty for now. The iron gate was pulled open and they were released first; six total germanic warriors. There had been nine but one was lost in travel and then some lost in the battles the day prior. Dagr’s eyes scanned the area for threat, uncertain what they would face next. He was surprised to a single man was released from the opposite end. The crowd screamed for him. It seemed he had a name; Atticus. Not that it would matter. He would soon be a dead man and his name forgotten.

Notes
Should clarify that imperator has two meanings and in this I don’t mean he was given title of emperor. Later, the title is restricted more to emperor only but for now this would usually be given by the army.


6. Justifying Means

General x kept lover and/or kept lover x Prisoner

A traditional and cutthroat General battles with the changing times as the war comes to a close. Assurances have been made for those that surrender peacefully, but Ifan has history with some of these enemies. Instead of taking their surrender, he takes a personal approach and brings them home as illegal prisoners. His lover happens upon them and is introduced to a side of Ifan he has never witnessed.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Urien Sa’adin Ifan had been kept away longer even than what was customary for him. It had been one thing after another and it was not unusual that he was too swept up with other duties to send a letter home. Current events would travel and his absence would be understood. He trusted that his household remained in order no matter how many seasons his country kept him. Ifan was a patriot first, father second, lover third. It had always been the way of it.

The war was coming to a close, finally. Ellania had pulled advantage and it had been several long months of the Etradae trying to recover ground to no avail, of course. Ifan wouldn't allow them an inch. Instead, he retaliated with such brutality it sparked controversy in Ellania.

Ifan had to deal with backlash of the actions of men under his command. Battle had occurred atop religious grounds. Blood was spilled. Heinous acts occurred. It was war. He had stood behind his appointed Captain regardless of the controversy it stirred. Politics were not his strong suit. He was known for his curt, unsympathetic attitude, but he was fair. He wouldn’t allow a single man to take brunt of it when going through battle reports, Ifan himself certain he wouldn't have done anything different. It had not been religious grounds but their standard, and so for Ellania, it was just the path of least resistance. It did cause him headache and the story was exaggerated to appease the public. It was easier to swallow for the simpleminded and softhearted who had no knowledge what really went on when it came to battle. Ifan was forced to deal with the fallout, and then politicians laid out terms for Etrad to surrender. Etradae sympathizers grew in number and Ifan was accused of dragging the war out needlessly.

Etrad agreed to the terms of surrender, though there were those that Ifan didn't trust nor did he feel they were deserving of fair terms. Instead, he arranged other plans for those individuals. While politicians could pull certain strings, there were a large number that were loyal to Ifan and would support his actions whether they'd been outlawed or not.

It had been years since Ifan had brought part of his work home with him in the physical sense. It was a dark habit that he’d nearly broken. Laws had changed from the start of his military career to where he was now. It was a time in their country when even prisoners held basic rights. A section of his estate had been constructed prior to the laws being set into place for that very purpose. A wine cellar repurposed into a holding area. The first room still held wine. The rest of it had been locked off; nearly forgotten about until the Ellanian sympathizers had unlocked a dormant rage. A prisoner was being moved back behind his walls once more. What Ifan could gain from a single man, removed and forgotten, far outweighed any moral issue some might find with it. Still, it had been ordered that it be done without drawing his lover’s attention to it. It was only something trusted guard needed to be aware of; ones that were of the same old-fashion like-mindedness as the General.

Ifan was not soft in regards to many things, except when it came to his children, now grown and moved on. Spoilt, some might say. So strict in most regards, he was lenient to those closest to him. It had been the case in regards to his wife, and later, after her passing, the occasional lover until something of almost permanence seemed to happen.

Ifan called as he stepped into the halls. “I’ve brought gifts.” As he usually did. Unusual art (not to his taste but he’d come to know what his lover fancied), flavorful preserves, and dyed fabrics from the various cities his travels took him. Things that might smooth over prolonged absence. Ifan’s home was an old country estate. He enjoyed the peace and privacy when he took time away. Stress had exaggerated the lines around his eyes and he looked worn. Even more gray was streaked through dark blond hair since the last time his younger lover had seen him. He looked aged beyond his years of eight and forty with the weight he carried upon his shoulders, and not a word of gratitude uttered about it from the general populace.


7. Rewera

Exiled Mage x Sacrifice

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Rhiak took no joy in traveling to speak with the tribe elders. This was the only part of his lifestyle that brought him shame, because this was once a tribe he had been a part of. They had learned to see him as something to be feared, just as the mysterious man he served was someone to be feared. Rhiak could not argue with them. They pulled away from him now, and the elders expressly prohibited him from touching anyone. He could understand their superstition. It had been forty years for them, and Rhiak had not aged much past the youth they had sent to become a sacrifice to the monster that both protected, and haunted them. Rhiak should have more closely resembled the men he came to speak to, many who were nearing the ends of their lives, but he didn't look a day aged past thirty.

Rhiak had given up much of his culture by then, even going so far as to have the tattoos removed from his skin. The only thing he wore now that was part of who he used to be were his dreads, grown long over time. His skin had even lightened a few shades because he spent considerably less time in the sun, and he kept his skin clothed. Now, riding into town on a tall black horse, he was cloaked from head to foot. He insisted that appearances always be maintained. Rewera they called him, both as his name, and for what they thought him to be; a demon. It was not his real name, but that information was not his to give. None of Reweda's secrets were his to give.

This trip he brought with him particularly grave news. They were not happy to see him again so soon, but they moved out of his way as he trotted the big animal through their village. When he dismounted, he didn't bother lowering his cloak, even if many saw it as a sign of disrespect. An elder intercepted him, so Rhiak just stood beside his horse to deliver the news.

“The last sacrifice did not..” he paused, trying to think about how to word it. “She was not a good fit,” he decided. “Rewera expects another.”

The elder stood blankly staring for a moment.

“It hasn't been a full season! What did he do to her?” the man demanded, but like always Rhiak never answered that question. He let them assume. He didn't deny it when they accused Rewera of raping, torturing, and eating those that they sent as tribute, regardless of gender. He just looked on with a somber cast to his mouth. This time it had been something needless and unfortunate, but it didn't change the fact that she was gone.

“Rewera is minus a vessel. Let me remind you that the weather, the sickness, and the beasts still come. He will take more care with this one, I am sure,” Rhiak spoke, but they would never know. They had never seen any of the sacrifices come back to the village except for Rhiak himself, and that made everyone suspicious as far as what made him different from the others.

A high pitched screeching sounded from the sky, following the silhouette of a large black creature followed by plumes of black smoke. Rhiak remained still while many of the sought shelter. The dragon circled overhead once, and then returned back to the mountains, it's calls echoing off of the massive structures.


“Rewera grows restless. You best decide what you are going to do.”

Rewera was not one to be tested. He'd shown that in the past, and future generations had passed down the stories. Now the fear of the dragons and other summoned beasties was usually enough to scare them into meeting his demands, which didn't often alter needlessly. He expected a human sacrifice usually only about every ten years, enough time that it was assumed that they grew out of their youthful appeal, and Rewera wanted to sate his hunger with something new. It made no difference if they were male or female, but he preferred them between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two years old.

“Demands will be met, or he will come instead of me. He will take from you whatever he wants,” Rhiak warned. Rewera hadn't made an appearance himself in years; not since Rhiak. Rewera had come through and chosen him personally, bypassing many of the other things that had been offered. It did nothing for the feelings the villagers had for him. The horse fidgeted nervously, anxious where his handler exuded nothing but calmness.

Rhiak walked the horse forward, making a demand for water for the animal to buy them some time to relay the message to the others, and to make a decision. This wouldn't have been planned for, so making a decision would be hard for them. Rhiak knew that they functioned together as a whole. Any one person would be a loss for them, much less two this year. As the horse bent to drink, Rhiak saw one of the warriors sizing him up. He did not posture aggressively in return like he would have when he was younger. Instead, he only shook his head.

“It would not be wise,” he warned.



8. Advantageous Endeavors

Arranged marriage

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Lord Lionel and Lady Meline Nazaire had three beautiful children that they could be proud of. Before everything, they had even more to boast about, but as is were now, they had to admit financial trouble or fall to ruin. They kept their secret between them for a long time, not even so much as telling their eldest, Etienne. He'd started to handle negotiations; the boy had a knack for it, but it was too late and they had to tell him all his hard work was for naught.

“I don't know how you two could have pretended everything was okay,” Etienne had said, and understandably he was angry. They gave him permission to look over their financial ledgers, and he quickly came to realize it wouldn't have mattered. It was something he couldn't have hoped to fix. Even if he'd known, the business was not without certain risk. Risk that many families of wealth could cushion against. The Nazaire family was well respected for their fairness, but they were of a more humble beginning. They lorded over a small estate, and he could hear the rumors now; they should have known better before taking on more than they could handle. Reaching beyond their status.

“We've got to start considering some marriage proposals for the girls,” Lionel told him, though Etienne was clearly opposed to the idea, even if it would benefit them to get out from under the family and take the name of another.

“You would have to arrange something fast, since you've let this fester for so long. You couldn't insure you would do right by them, and they're both so young still. Perle has her own aspirations that don't involve marriage right away,” Etienne told him with a frown, but it was likely something Lionel had already known. He admitted as such.

“Let it be me then,” Etienne decided after a time. “Procure the best arrangement for this family. I am older, and set in my ways. I know the limits of my patience. My sisters are still much too sweet. They've worldly knowledge to gain outside of taking a husband.”

Perle was just barely eighteen, far too focused on educating herself in medicine than to worry over such frivolous possibilities. Roselle was sixteen, too young to know what she wanted in life, though he imagined he would hear it from her when she learned he discouraged his father from marrying her off. Her head was clouded with romantic notions Etienne knew better than to believe. He was twenty four, ambitious, but he hadn't had any desire to marry. His father knew that, but he also knew Etienne was the pragmatic sort. It was the better option, and Etienne wouldn't stand for anything less than being treated properly. Etienne was made of handsome features, and he had his mother's striking red hair. He was tall and healthy. Above that, Etienne was sharp of mind with a reasonable nature. He could do well for himself.

Marriage was not at the forefront of their minds when they accepted invitation to dine at esteemed estate and long time friend of Lionel's, and so they'd gone simply to enjoy their company. They never hosted the family at their place, of course. There was not so much they could offer the higher born family, especially during such trying times. Etienne had met the family a few times, and he didn't think this exchange would be any different from their polite sharing of a meal. He was older now, of course. He could remain and drink wine with his father when all was said and done, while the girls would be encouraged off to bed.

Etienne couldn't have predicted it would be the first chance he really got a good look at his soon to be husband. Sure, he'd seen the man before, but interaction had always been fleeting. Lionel wouldn't admit it either, but he'd gone to his friend for advice to his problems, airing the dirty laundry about their family business. Not only that, but he asked for help in finding a family for Etienne to advantageously marry into. He had no idea that his friend would consider the notion for his son. Lionel was a humble man, and never so presumptuous. They were a family thought to be beyond their status.

“Nonsense,” the lord of the estate assured, “there is no one I would trust with family matters more. The city nobles are nothing but vipers waiting to lure you close.”


9. Obsession

Hunter x Aquatic Creature

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Acacius Delmarti was the most talented hunter there was to bad had in the whole of Ellania, or so he claimed. He had the finest of horses, the finest of dogs, and a ferocity that couldn't be matched. He was fearless, clever, and agile. Formally addressed as Marquess Acacius Delmari, cousin of his royal highness, King Fridraus of Ellania. A drunken spat with his brother, Olderic, claiming Acacius hadn't done anything worthwhile as a hunter renewed the man's desire for the hunt, though it usually took lesser things. If he could catch something truly special; something of folklore and legend, not even his brother would be able to deny his claim. He wanted nothing more than to be able to rub the bastard's smug face in it.

He recalled a tale his grandfather had told him about the southern most region of Ellania, one that Olderic had blown off as nothing more than the superstitious rambling of a mad old man. Acacius had respected, and loved his grandfather. No matter his rambling, he'd always been willing to listen; always gave the man the respect that he deserved.

“There's a connected lake system tucked into the Baltwen mountains,” he said, “a place we were only traveling through. It was thought to be something of a paradise, not as cold as it is father north.” Where the Delmarti family was from. “Men were lost there. There was no way to explain it. Not a scream was heard, and when bodies were retrieved, not a mark on them. No bruises, nothing to indicate they were dragged down.”

Acacius remembered Olderic snorting derisively.

“If they drank like you do, old man, they simply fell in and drowned.”

Grandfather shook his head.

“We opened them up afterwards. There wasn't water in their lungs, so they didn't drown. Some thought they'd been poisoned by man and disposed of. I know better. A curse on that place, more like. You'd do well to believe more than you can see with your own eyes, Olderic, lest something catch you unawares.”

Acacius had remembered, while Olderic didn't likely pay it any real mind. There was quite possibly something out there in the Baltwen forest, hidden between the mountains. It was a place rarely traveled based upon the superstitions that came from the older generations. His grandfather was not the only one he'd heard warnings from. Mostly, it was supposed to be a place of bad omen, meant to be respected from a distance. Things lived out there that were used to prevent children from wandering. Acacius wasn't a child though, and he wasn't frightened. He had heard stories of monsters in the woods, and usually it was only a predator that had grown more than a human settlement could handle. Generally, there was explanation, if one got past the consuming worry of the unknown. Acacius was obsessed with the unknown and the unusual. His only true joy was finding something bigger, larger, and more deadly than his brother's last catch. They were at constant odds with one another, always seeking to outdo. Acacius was the better man, and he knew it.

Acacius traveled from his own estate south, with a group of servants and guard that would aid him in ways that made it possible for him to simply hunt. They would serve him, and tend to his beasts. He hunted alone, of course, as he preferred to do. He'd brought along dogs from his personal kennel, some tried and true, and others younger, eager. He brought his steady, unflappable stallion, with a few extra horses should one injure itself. He would be staying at his families smaller, but comfortable summer villa. The place he used to visit his grandfather out at before he'd passed away. Olderic had thought Acacius was simply vacationing, as he claimed, but he should have known better. Acacius was much too restless to sit idle, with no purpose.

It took perhaps half a day to get into the mountain ranges by horseback. He'd taken a pack mule to carry supplies, and a dozen dogs. He wore muted browns, something decidedly plain for a man of his taste, but being showy on a hunt didn't serve his purpose. Still, he was well groomed and presentable, clean shaven. His black hair was kept at an appropriate length and combed back. He was tall, broad, with a well muscled back kept in shape from his mastery of the bow. As well as that, he'd taken spear along, unsure what he would encounter in the dense forest. Most wildlife ran, but he didn't give chase. Nothing had been unusual so far, and he was interested in investigating the waterways, where the men his grandfather spoke of supposedly died.

Acacius had to take mostly to foot to hack through a great deal of the vegetation, and up against the edge of the mountain range, he had to be careful on horseback with the varying steepness. He was not to be disappointed by what he'd found at the heart of it all, though, and he could understand how something so secluded could remain that way. He had no intention of leaving until he'd scoured every inch of the forest, and preferably not until he had the head of a legendary beast to take home.

There were multiple bodies of water, some spilling over to one another, held like the cupped hands of some great god. The water was clear, enough that he could see out, and as far as he could tell, looked safe enough to swim. His dogs drank from the water first, before he allowed himself, and his horse to consume any of it. Even then, he was still cautious. He spent that first day climbed up to higher elevation, cutting out a path that he and his stallion could traverse more easily. The dogs were sharp and focused, eager for the action their master had been denying them, but Acacius wanted them to conserve their energy.

As far as he could tell, he saw nothing terribly unusual; no tracks worth a second look. Of course, he knew that it was likely there was something in the water itself. That would prove to make things that much more challenging, especially with the location, and his inability to be on something when he needed to be. To throw the spear, he'd have to be able to get into the right sort of position, and that was easier done with a boat than from the edges, on horseback. Acacius wasn't sure he was willing to get a canoe trekked there until he knew exactly what he was dealing with.

The sun was starting to go down, but Acacius was happy with what he'd accomplished for the day. It had been a lot of really tedious work, but it was necessary, especially if he needed to get to higher ground more quickly. He'd taken the time to understand the footing; where he could, and could not take his horse. He showed the dogs where things dropped off suddenly, and thought perhaps he might be able to catch some fish for their supper before the night was over. He'd packed a fishing rod, and used some of the meat he'd brought along to eat as bait. Both were on the pack mule he'd left at the lower level, and he went to retrieve them, removing the tack off his horse and hobbling him so that he could graze. He'd walked back up to find a deeper spot that was quiet in it's current, creating a pocket that he imagined smaller catches would trap themselves in. The dogs followed him, his eldest female sticking close. He was a bit nervous; had been the better part of the day. Acacius wasn't sure what set her to edge, but he ignored her for now since she hadn't alerted him to anything.

Acacius went to the edge of the clear water, to set the line out, and hopefully supply a fresh meal for himself, and whatever leftovers to his dogs.



10. Defection

Dragon rider x ???

A warrior abandons his post during wartimes, taking his mount and crossing the sea. He lands on an island nation and discovers a culture entirely different than his own.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Things were not looking good, not for Zlatan's army. It wasn't that they were loosing. That was hardly the case, but the overall carnage was overwhelming. He belonged to the winning side of Belmir, pushing further and further southwest. They had come across a hardy group of forest dwelling people that were putting up a far greater struggle than he thought would be the case. They had a wide array of defense, from trained archers to sturdy ground dwelling dragons, and a catapult that worked all too well against their beasts of flight. Zlatan wasn't even sure why they were trying to claim the area, nor why the people were defending it so veraciously. There was little point in it. He saw no reason to try to take it. It could hardly benefit them when they had much easier territory to manage north, and plenty of it. Civilization could hardly expand fast enough. Orders were orders however, as he'd learned. Arguing never did any good. His king had taught him lessons of that.

Zlatan was not as bulky as his armor would make him appear, but as a commander of an army, appearances were everything, and on the battlefield he looked every bit as filled out as a giant. He did have height, but his frame was more lithe. He was lightly muscled, and quick, his body allowing the grace he'd need to ride such dangerous and turbulent creatures. His long legs were toned and solid, with a torso that was flat and smooth, hardened from all the core training in the sky. Typically, he wore a crimson cloak over his heavy armor, with a matching helmet. The metal was tarnished with dark streaks of black, but he didn't worry over it. It blended well with his dark beast. His helmet was horned, mimicking his dragon, with a tuft of white horse hair flowing down the back, but his hair was actually as dark and shiny as coal. His skin was lightly tanned from spending time in the sun, his features sharp and angular.

Perhaps it was a thing of pride, but their opponents refused to give up their homes, even in the face of death, outnumbered. It was something that wore heavy on Zlatan as he watched them shoot down many of their dragons, the beasts plummeting, undeniably killing their riders with the decent. He gave orders as he would any other battle, to keep on. To forget the fallen. Success was all that mattered. More land, more deaths. It would repeat. He would succeed in this, that much was obvious to him. He had seen enough battles, won enough to know when they would come out on top. And for what? To be sent out again. It was these conflicting emotions that saw him to distraction that day.

The arrows rained down on him first, but none striking home with his heavy armor. They did however hit his dragon, several embedding themselves across his ribs, but not strong enough to slide past the muscle dividing them. More landed through the wings of the great beast, and suddenly they were spiraling. Even in this, the dragon of his didn't land on him as he came to the ground, nose and chest skidding, leaving a great gash in the earth. Foot soldier's descended on them, and his dragon thrashed great black talons as he struggled to scramble up, failing. Zlatan swiped out with his jagged spear, taking on those he could reach as he kept his balance on his struggling mount. It occurred to him that he would likely loose his dragon, and suddenly he was angry. This beast had served him no matter the tortures he made him endure. There was much he had to be guilty over.

“Meritan,” Zlatan snarled, hauling the beast's head up and spurring him hard in the side. “Up, come up!” To his surprise, his dragon lifted his front end, getting underneath himself, and took a giant leap. Zlatan kept pressure on him, unsure if he could gain flight, but his beast managed it, even bloodied with tatters in his wings. He still responded to him and he still tried. Meritan didn't always listen to him, but it was the moments that counted the most when he did. Zlatan could have turned the dragon around. He could have gone back to the scene of the battle, where he would have undeniably pushed his mount to his death. Instead, he gave Meritan his head and aimed him towards the sea. Likely they would die before reaching land, but the ocean's cold dispassionate death was a welcomed thought over this. Of returning home without his mount, and starting over again. Meritan was not his first dragon. The cycle would just repeat, and Zlatan simple had enough of watching it. Of participating in it. He'd go when his dragon could no longer carry him, and likely they'd go together.

Meritan pushed, his expansive wings outstretched. Zlatan looked out to see the right wing opened up in the center, the leathery skin jagged and torn. Still, the beast pressed on even after he faltered. Even when the ocean became dangerously close. Zlatan had laid his head against Meritan's neck, eventually giving up the reins completely. There was likely nothing to be found out here. If there was, he would have known of it by now. His king would have sent him to investigate, and then bring armies to slaughter all who refused to give up their homes. His head was reeling. He felt quite ill, knowing all he had done, and it wasn't until they were plummeting once more that he lifted his head, expecting to be enveloped by the cold ocean moments later. Instead, Meritan was struggling to climb, because they'd reached land. More specifically, they'd reached mountains and Meritan was too low. He was exhausted, but he propelled himself upwards, over them as best he could. His belly scraped a rough edge, but he could see space to land and Zlatan could tell he zeroed in on that.

Meritan seemed to have lost control of himself on the decent, and this landing was rough. The dragon came skidding in on his side, crushing Zlatan's leg against his body. There was grass beneath them, soft earth that helped to keep the human from being crushed. He dug himself out from under the immovable beast and slumped against his neck. When he looked at his hands, they came away crimson. It was this point in time that he chose to really look at his dragon. To stop ignoring all the things he tried not to see.

Meritan was thin, his ribs protruding along his abdomen. Parts of the arrows still stuck out, but had been broken off in the landing. His black scales were dull, and some had been torn out, by Meritan himself in one of his usual fits. He had dried skin sticking on various areas, long since being unable to shed properly. His eyes were watching, but his head was flat on ground, nostrils flaring. His chest rose and fell sharply, dangerously fatigued. His left wing was laid out against the sand, his tattered right folding against his body with with blood dripping from the horned claw. Zlatan came around to take a seat in the curve of his neck, dangerously close to his dragon's jaws. He reached a hand out to touch his face. Meritan tolerated him, at least for the moment. Zlatan had many scars from when Meritan wasn't feeling so accommodating. He was so wrapped up in the situation that he hardly thought of any of the natives he might encounter with his crash landing into a strange and foreign territory. Zlatan reached for his helmet with his other hand, removing it and tossing it away. His sword was sheathed, and his face was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. The blood wasn't his own, but a combination of his dragon's, and the enemies. Before things went south, together him and Meritan had slaughtered many.



11. The Gilded Parlour

High end whore x Client

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
The Gilded Parlour was well known for it's opulence, as well as it's manner of turning customers away if they were not suited for it's taste. One required a good amount of coin, and the right sort of title to be accepted at all. Even then not everyone was guaranteed a spot with some of the top whores in the business. The top earners had some choice of which clients they were to take, and were very much in control of how they marketed themselves, as well as prices they set. As long as they made the coin, the house didn't care how they did it. The newer whores were not treated as such, and the house set their prices, as well as taking larger cuts. They considered it an ‘education’ fee. When someone could manage themselves, they’d be set off on their own, but they had to earn it. There was no brothel in the whole of Ellania that was run quite like it, and it set in the heart of the capital city of Aritesh.

Esmael was usually their highest earner, but it had been hard work that had gotten him there, and being smart about things. His prices were ridiculous, and he did not haggle. He saw four clients a week on average, and with the amount he asked for, that was plenty of coin to steadily chip away at his debt. He still have much of it to pay off, considering the amount he accrued just on a daily basis by living in the more lavish rooms of the house, and the amount he spent on costuming and display. They were paying for the whole experience, and he made sure that the clients he did take were satisfied, even if he wasn't. Generally he found it all rather boring. He was to the point where he was sure he hated sex, though he put on a damn fine act.

Part of it too was Esmael took to a life of opulence. Most things were right there at his fingertips. He only had to ask, and add it to his debt. He spared no expense in the way he lived. He might not ever work his way out of it, but he would at least enjoy the finer things in life. There was little else that brought him happiness.

He started off just like everyone else. From the bottom, with the house taking most of his earned coin. He had to take several clients a day then to just keep from getting overwhelmed. The debt started not as his own, but his fathers, which he gained from moving to this country and experiencing all it had to offer. When his father gotten himself into trouble because of it, Esmael was taken and shipped off to The Gilden Parlour, and put to work. He learned lessons quickly, harshly, and entirely on his own. He was barely fluent in their language, but that was the first thing he remedied.

Now he spoke their language beautifully, with only the slightest accent, which most found intoxicatingly exotic. Some requested that his speak in his mother tongue. He was tall as well, long lines of sensuous muscle beneath olive tanned skin. Not bulky, but the frame of a dancer or a swimmer, sculpted to be enticing. He had jet black hair, long with a natural wave to it, but he often pulled it straight. He had high cheekbones, and angular nose, and regal jaw line. He had full lips and dark brown almond shaped eyes. His lashes were long, his brows perfectly manicured. Sometimes he decorated himself with makeup or paint. He was always experimenting with ways to gain a man's eye. He was Beltani islander through and through, a small region close to Yand but less established. Most had never seen a Beltani, and that certainly played upon his exotic charm.

This night he was draped in an ethereal white material that was nearly transparent. It hung on him with thin strands of gold, a line all the way his body exposed to show the contrast of tan skin. His shoulders shimmers slightly from gold dust, and he'd applied some to his cheekbones as well. Tonight was supposed to be one of the nights he took to himself, but his Madam had pressed him to take a new client. Usually he would have said no, or at least asked to meet him beforehand, but she was having none of that.

“This is a man who is of importance, and he is not someone who can risk himself with anyone other than one of our better trained options,” Madam Gale was trying to make him see the importance, and he eventually nodded. She could make him do it, and she certainly didn't have to ask. That she did was probably why he agreed when he usually was hostile about giving up the time he spent with himself. He had no resentment towards this woman, and he had no desire to give him a hard time. She had taken him in and given him a far better life than his father ever could have.

She was an attractive woman, pushing middle age. She was built solid, with sharp eyes. Even with age upon her, she did not look like the type of woman that could be easily taken advantage of. Esmael had to give it to her that she was a savvy woman who knew how to run a business. He held the utmost respect for her, even for his harshness with him in the beginning. She was the most unsympathetic creature he had ever met, but likely he needed that. In the end it made him stronger.

Esmael had one of the private bars set up, for the man to join him there before he took him back up to his rooms. He liked to feel them out first, so he knew what role to play once they started taking off clothing. Esmael was sipping wine, though he wouldn't partake of more than a glass. If a client wanted him to keep drinking, he'd start drinking his watered down. He had a system with the other workers, and many styles of unspoken communication. Another young man was present, but he stood off to the side, out of the way but ready to be of assistance if he needed to be. His hair was dark and curly, with the same complexion as Esmael, quite obvious Beltani. Esmael would never admit it, but he was more than ten years older than that young man. How much older was another one of his secrets to keep.

Sayd

Oof, been a while.
Back to see what dark cravings folks have!
PM me.

Sayd


Sayd


Sayd

Seeking new originals, possibly open to fandom.

Sayd

Four new plots added!

1. Victim/Savior ***

A decade earlier YC was reported missing. Known for his promiscuity and adventurous lovelife, it was assumed he'd run off with someone, only he never returned home. Present day he's assumed dead. His family and friends have mourned and moved on. Only a decade earlier his adventurousness would prove to his detriment and he was taken captive by a mysterious stranger. He's learned to get by through appeasement and learning to live by his captors rules. They've fallen into a routine. YC is trained to behave and play by the rules. The captor has proven time and time again that no one cares enough to help a victim. He's destroyed YCs perspective on humanity as a whole and made him fully reliant on his captor/caretaker. The captor is bold, taking YC to public places more frequently to further solidify his lessons, cruising bars and clubs for various hookups.

MC is a police officer on temporary leave with a background in criminal profiling. He's trying to take some time off from his career, but a night out brings attention to something he cannot ignore. It could be a subtle clue YC gives off, or a simple feeling that something isn't right. MC is in tune to human behavior and intervenes on behalf of YC after years of mindplay and torment. MC tries to remain profession and keep his distance as a court case erupts, but inevitably both characters are drawn to one another.

-Serious slowburn. MC is not going to want to risk reviving his career, reputation, and morals to persue a romantic relationship with the victim but with time as YC regains his agency they can overcome those obstacles.

2. Defeated Prince/ To be discussed

Prince of a defeated nation is spared in exchange for his submission and political cooperation. The remaining loyalists to his late father would consider him a traitor for his submission and he likely isn't welcomed warmly in the country that defeated his.

3. Arranged Marriage

MC agrees to a political proposal in order to give his sisters more time while saving his families reputation and finances. MC is an artist, and YC has been a long time buyer of his private works. MC has experience running an estate. He is old enough to be set in his ways, experienced, cunning, and certainly no pushover. YC may have idealized what he though he was getting in a husband.

4. Merman x Fisherman

Private fisherman catches and injures a merman in his trawling net. Remains at sea in the hopes to release the creature.

*This would probably do best as an interesting little short story but we can discuss details

Sayd

Added an entire section of pick up and go starters.