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Author Topic: Sekah's Requests [M/M or male char for domme, fantasy, history, sci fi, slavery]  (Read 237 times)

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Online SekahTopic starter


Name's Sekah (most of my friends and my boyfriend call me Sekah in RL too)! I'm a junior in college studying creative writing and history, and a cis-gender girl. I love stories, that's all I have to say about that. I wanted to be an author originally, but realized being a penniless writer was not going to be a lucrative stage of my life, and anyway I'm a long way from ever considering myself good enough to submit to a publisher. I'm disabled, I'm bisexual, and it's actually surprising that I'm telling you all this, because for a long time I wasn't upfront about those parts of my identity. I'm a nerd. I need to get shoved in a locker.

I have never finished a video game, interesting fact about me. I own a lot of gaming devices and have never so much as completed a pokemon. There are games I've played since I was seven I haven't ever finished. Oh yeah and I'm new-ish to roleplaying, a few years since my first-ever roleplay. It's so crazy. You're all crazy.

About me:

Note: All art pictured are commissions of my characters!


I'm looking for partners willing to play literally anything or anyone they want with my characters. I'll bring the character, you just bring your own character(s) and ideas to the table, and I guarantee we can work something out. I'm willing to play with OCs, canons (animated and not), really any character you can think of. Pitch it to me, I guarantee it'll work out.

This is primarily an M/M post, largely because that's what I've been feeling most of late, but I'm also open to playing against female characters IF and ONLY IF they are dominant. For M/M, I can play top or bottom or switch but prefer bottom. What I need most clearly and dearly are non-con and slavery plots with my character as the victim—I've been starved of them and I really need that to end.



Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
They were intertwined, like kits exhausted from strenuous play, lying on a mat of tough, springy grass overgrown from the ki rolling off of Kurama's skin. Kuronue fingered a green blade, running it between his claws to slice it, his seed from their latest fuck cooling on his thighs. Sickles glinted in the sunlight a safe distance away, though this grove was full of Kurama's traps and spies. Kuronue could be armed again in moments.

Youko flicked his eyelid open indolently at the minuscule tremor in his power, and healed the grass blade with a few moments' concentration. He reached up to a spindly branch twining down to him and cupped the ripe pomegranate it deposited in his hand.

"The humans of this land," Kuronue asked, curious, rolling over and stretching like a cat, "what are they called?"

"The Han," Youko hummed, "ruled by a dynastic Emperor." His claws ran gently over the indent of Kuronue's spine, marveling. "They think this," he said, holding up the full red pomegranate for inspection, "grants you fertility."

Youko's tail curved to stroke over Kuronue's hip, which glistened with languid sweat. His claws dug violently into the rind of the fruit, ripping it in half with a single motion. Several of the bittersweet, edible seed casings popped, and juice flowed down over the jagged edges of the fruit's skin to pool between the ridges of his chest. Youko had eaten several already, and his fingers, claws, palms, mouth, chin, and neck were all stained a color like blood. Yellow eyes curved when he smiled at Kuronue, who muttered, rolled again, and leaned in, his pale lips mouthing kisses over the spilled juice, one of his wings flexing, crushed beneath him. Youko's legs shivered at the sensation. He moaned deep in his throat and plucked out a single casing, doubling the sugar production and then slipping it between his lips to suck.

Kuronue watched Youko's face turn sensual. Finally, annoyed by the teasing, he clambered onto Youko, crushing their lips together so Kuronue could lap at the treat. Youko let him in, let him steal the seed, delighting in the melding flavors and the slickness of Kuronue's tongue. Having claimed his prize, Kuronue didn't suck, but bit, hissing at the sharp taste.

The grove was a prettier place now than when they'd found it. Flowers who felt their master's pleasure bloomed fuller in joy, their seeds dripping to the ground, going through full life cycles. Seedlings grew tall after the briefest of interludes, an ever-shifting phantasmagoria. A pond beside them, originally drab and grey, was encased in water lilies with wide white flowers and rounded pads. The algae choking the pond's flora, with a twist of Youko Kurama's power, had died down, clearing the water of everything but silt.

Though they had spent the night lovemaking and sleeping in turn, Kurama had never remembered to replace the grass they'd lain on with a softer bed of moss, and now it was too late.

A butterfly mounted a nearby blossom, its white wings, each with a single brown spot like two eyes, flexing daintily open and closed. Youko was distracted by the sight, absentmindedly popping another casing into his mouth, while Kuronue rolled over yet again, restless, and watched the clouds form. Birds chipped and chirruped at the sky, at the bright sunlight of late morning.

Tonight they would ply their trade as bandits. The portal they wanted, which would lead them within scouting distance of the impregnable fortress of Kal Ad'dhun in a southwestern point of the Makai, was only a few dozen jō west.

Youko, finally deciding they'd waited long enough, yawned and slid into the water of the pond, growing soapbark from the seed of it he kept tucked away behind his ear. Kuronue joined him, both blinking at the bright sunlight, Youko tossing Kuronue some aloe and more soapbark. They didn't need to speak, comfortable with one another, bodies warm from the sun and cool from the water.

Youko was done first, shaking himself like a dog and wringing out his tail. Vines swished over his skin, twisted in his hair and over the fur of his ears until the excess water was gone. Youko Kurama stepped into his tunic. He watched Kuronue for a moment, and then began undoing the changes his power had wrought, pulling back the flowers and trees, pomegranates sinking back into the branches, leaving a few overripe fruit to hang, and several rotten fruit that had turned to saplings devolving back, until the rancid mess littering the ground returned. A murder of crows with black wings landed back on their nests, sidling and cackling in annoyance, though hardly daring to challenge the kitsune who had deposed them. The troop of monkeys who had camped here originally was smarter: they wouldn't return until well after the two demons had left.

"I'm in the mood for some meat," Kurama declared, eying the murder. The crows quieted, sensing the sudden sharpening of his interest.

"Leave them," Kuronue replied, bored. "Crows are tough things, scavengers. They taste foul."

Kurama sneered, but finished checking over his kit anyway, knowing Kuronue was right. "I've never liked them. I can't imagine why those Northwestern human tribes worship them."

"They worship death," Kuronue said, shrugging his shoulders. "What creature could be more appropriate?"

Kurama's sneer deepened. Death came, and ate away at joy. Death was in someone else's hands, the Gods', or the Reikai's, or an enemy's. Kurama had no love of death, or of people who had the weakness to seek it. Rather than reply, having finished his silent inventory, he turned to Kuronue and smirked toothily. "Help me erase our tracks?"

Kuronue grinned, cheeky. "At your service," he purred. Hefting his sickles, he did up his belts and re-wrapped his leathers while humming a Persian folk tune, watching the lilies fade and the algae build in the pond with regret.

I tend to write as much as moves me. I never match length. But I also love to have fun and watch my partners have fun, so I will be checking in with you a lot to make sure things are fun.

Without further ado, here's a few of my characters to play against—but I have loads more if these four boys don't appeal!


SHORT DESCRIPTION Taiga has an addictive personality that he turns to drinking, gambling, and sometimes opium. He’s shrewd; a good businessman, you might call him. Arrogant as fuck, you might also call him. Both are equally true. Whether he has a right to be arrogant remains to be seen, though he is by all rights an intellectual. He is not a milquetoast; anyone who buys into the idea of him as a fop has never seen his cunning, never been on the wrong end of his ambition. He's not a bully—it's too sophisticated. He is not in a habit of making enemies, either. He knows the value of friendly thoughts.

Sexual & Romantic Orientations.

Bisexual, but listing far to the side of androsexual. Masculine bodies entice him particularly. He is attracted to women, and others on every end of the gender spectrum, but his attractions are a bit less immediate.


Marital Status.

Married, but Goddess, don't ask him about it. He bears no ill will towards his wife—as she doesn't towards him, apparently—but he is not attracted to her, and trying to beget children is an embarrassing chore for them both. He doesn't desire children. He never has. He knows, among other things, he would be a terrible father.


Warging—Taiga broke his arm at seventeen, falling badly off a horse. The experience was like shocking his soul out of his body and into the temperamental war horse poised to stamp him. They thought he was unconscious for some time, everyone becoming hysterical at the prospect of a coma, before finally he managed to slide back into himself. His favorite animal he ever warged with was a tiger at a private menagerie. After that, Tiger became his name and his affectation. The epithet, once it stuck, is something you have to approach him correctly to earn the right to call him without repercussions. Members of his immediate family and such are prime candidates for this.

Frequented Locations.

He goes where needed, where that bizarre mixture of business and pleasure that categorizes him will take him. He might show up with full entourage at a lesser noble's house. It is equally likely he'll waltz into a noble or imperial court. He likes visiting his lovers, too, and the meetings are rarely clandestine.

Known For.

Gambling too much, drinking too much, vices that have colored his life and his formation into a man. Being a well-known and much-celebrated mathematician. Everyone knows that Taiga likes his lovers, so rarely is he questioned officially when he's seen bandying words with some handsome young man. He lives to defy expectations, either by gaining fame or infamy.

Religious Views.

A good tool of control, to Taiga. He affects a subtle agnosticism while being in every way correct in his outward following of the Faith.

Relationship With House.

Fond of his family, paradoxically, he likes them and fears them, for knowing him too well. Few others do. He has a strange relationship with people who knew him when he was completely powerless.

Goals & Motivations.

Short term:
Make it through his bi-monthly attempt to father a child with his wife.

Long term: Continue work on his mathematical treatise. He feels he's on to something big this time.


SHORT DESCRIPTION The only family Crow loved was his little sister.

Crow was born with the true name Beast in Mio, a small coastal village in Japan, during the sengoku period, to a fae mother and one of her Johns. Yoshitsune Masayoshi fathered Crow without realizing. His mother was Emi, a low-level courtesan in a dockside brothel, who spent her livelihood servicing the armies that plowed through and the fishermen, when the soldiers weren’t available.

His mother was a harridan. Crow grew up in abject squalor. His home was a rundown hut with paper patching the roof that let every rain through and cracked tatami that grew mold, near the fish mongers, so everything reeked of high tide. It was almost a parody of shelter, particularly in the winters when wood and coal prices soared, and food was scarce. He was offspring to a woman who spent more time imbibing drinks and drugs than tending her son. She neglected him as much as he abused him. As a child, he learned to go hungry. He became familiar with cold so deep it was a miracle he didn’t lose limbs to frostbite. He learned pain was a part of life. He learned the wrong lessons, and he learned them far too soon. He was a vicious bully as a child, taking his rage out on other children of the brothel. That all changed when he was eight, in two parts. The first was the birth of his mother’s second child. His sister, born in his eighth year, never had to learn what Crow could spare her from. Crow was crafty and industrious, good with his hands. After his mother weaned his sister (too early, far too early) Crow threw himself into her care. He loved that little girl. Part brother, part father, they fought often, but Hana trusted Crow never to hurt her—the only one she so trusted.

Crow soothed every tantrum, rocked her to sleep night after night. Crow fought for her, faced down grown men for her, has killed for her.

It wasn't enough, of course—the efforts of one little boy—but he tried.

But that wasn’t the only trial of Crow’s eighth year. That was the year he scarred the grandson of the owner of his mother's cathouse. That was a bad mistake. The pimp beat Crow within an inch of his life, and started selling him as a pain whore for years to come. Crow found his status humiliating, but his diet improved. He was able to bring back food for his sister.

Crow's father returned to the brothel he'd frequented a decade ago. He smelt something similar to himself, and walked into Crow's room. Crow was afraid he would be raped. Instead, the stranger asked, "Boy, who is your mother?"

The truth ascertained, Yoshitsune took Crow away to live what Crow calls a “proud, nomadic life.” When Crow begged him to, he reluctantly brought his sister along with him.

He idolized his father. They travelled the world aimlessly looking for amusement. Crow's father had no goals in life and led a rather dissolute lifestyle, which was part of why Crow turned out so profligate. He groomed his young son partially out of his own narcissism, and partially because of the vague sense that Crow would one day be useful to him. Crow never knew that: loved his father in a burning, consuming, obsessive way that never eased, cherishing the gifts his father bestowed on him and soaking up all his father’s worst ideas like a sponge.

Yoshitsune groomed Crow, believing one day the young fae would be useful to him. It was not to be. Yoshitsune's crimes caught up with him. Ambushed by hunters in China, Crow was able to escape, now a youngster on the cusp of manhood. His father was not so lucky.

He watched in his hiding place, hugging his sister, as they killed his father. Overcome by grief and rage, he grew older.

Many years of wandering brought him to Brazil, then the US, in the height of the Exclusion era for Asian Americans. When World War II started, amid the chilling anger at people of Japanese ancestry, he along with every other Japanese-American from South and North America was corralled into a desert camp, where he sojourned, humiliated and angry. It was a struggle not to die of iron exposure (an anti-iron magical ring helped in that respect), but he was able to work something out with the guards and the other interned American citizens. He checked yes/yes on the loyalty questionnaire, a questionnaire that made him boil with rage when he saw it, and was automatically drafted. Unlike most Japanese-Americans faced with that condescending piece of paper, he didn’t join the 442nd. He was part of a special group of supernatural soldiers who fought on behalf of England and its allies in World War II. Though dyslexic, and unable to read in any of the many languages he spoke, he conducted many missions saving as many from the Nazi genocide of the Holocaust as he could. He was once called a moral man in an immoral world, but he thinks that's horseshit. He killed plenty of American and Russian soldiers who thought they had a right to women's bodies.

When the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, amid the chilling post-war residual hatred of the Japanese in which a large chunk of Americans responded on a survey about the atomic bombs that they were sorry the Japanese had surrendered so quickly, before more bombs could be dropped, he hung up his uniform with a vow never to fight in another war again. He eventually went back to North America. There he drifted as aimlessly as he ever had. He's working as a social worker and learning to read, now, in night classes at a school for dyslexic adults in Nova Scotia. It's not a glamorous lifestyle he lives, but it's his own.


SHORT DESCRIPTION Karim is the baby of the family, and he exudes it. Spoilt, that’s the word for it. Used to fine men, fine women, fine suits, and good food, since he’s an adept cook who knew all the best upscale places to eat halal in the tri-county area, when he lived there. If that were all there was to him, he’d be as shallow as some take him for: that, however, is not all there was to him, not by a long shot.

The dearest things to him are his big sister, giving back to his community and his God. He found a meaning in Islam that his sister Leyla did not. In the circles of peers he moves through during his drifting, extroverted social life, Leyla was a constant figure, grounding him, pushing him to achieve, and spoiling him mercilessly. He remembers the packed lunches that appeared in his locker as if by magic with a tender fondness, and still has many handwritten notes from Leyla. Those lunches still appear every once in awhile, mysteriously showing up at his workstation. Many of his friends loudly envied their close relationship; many of their friend’s parents pointed out Karim and Leyla and said to their own children, exasperated, can’t you be more like them?

Karim has known all of Leyla’s secrets since they were children. He knew Leyla loved women before she’d come to terms with it enough to tell him. He laughed when she told him and explained succinctly that he didn’t know how she could choose—men and women were both so beautiful. She taught him the word bisexual, he’s used it since. He’s her active partner-in-crime, her confidante. When his parents heard rumors she went without the hijab in school he told an active and robust lie that he kept up convincingly for years, until the accident.

He was seven years her junior, and so her stories and games were more magical to him than to her, perhaps. He was an impressionable child, always loud and talking, to the point of getting himself in trouble with neighborhood bigots and their children.

Then came the accident, the night of the full moon in the junkyard he went looking for her, and found his sister convulsing, foaming at the mouth. He didn’t want to leave her, but terrified, he knew he had to act fast. He tried to find the junkman’s phone and dial 911. She turned to werewolf before he could, and confused and wild on her first night as a wolf, bit her little brother. She was allowed to ride in the ambulance with him next morning, since she lied and said she didn’t know how to get home. She refused to leave his side until their parents came and carried her away.

After that, she changed.

It wasn’t all the guilt over becoming a werewolf, and turning her little brother into one, too. Part of it was her hitting adolescence hard, and not being nearly so inclined to fool around with her baby of a brother. She blamed herself for years for the accident. Even now, as an adult, she still feels that irrational echo of survivor’s guilt.

In some ways, it was good for them to get some distance, no matter how he missed her. He went from Leyla’s gawky kid brother to school heartthrob pretty fast after eighth grade, when he shot up like a weed summer of freshman year. He liked to talk, he liked to fool around, but more than all of that combined, he liked helping people. He’s stood up to every bully he’s ever met, sometimes with disastrous consequences. When Leyla was making her own space and place for herself, Karim was doing much the same thing.

He went to culinary school to pursue his passion for cooking. They stayed in touch, of course, and one day, nineteen-year-old Karim, after the pre-dawn Fajr prayer, called his sister, excited by an idea that had been percolating in him for a while.

His grand idea? Becoming a firefighter. The hero bug had bit Karim hard, and after all, he argued stubbornly through all the hours, days, weeks spent wheedling his way through Leyla’s refusal, it was a solid career, and some of the Firefighters looked no older than him—some looked measurably younger, in fact.

Finally, she agreed. He was trained, and spent years in the NYC fire department. Wanting a break from big city life, he's just passed Canada's immigration policies and moved out to Ashbourne, Nova Scotia, where he's slated to take up a position at the local fire department.


SHORT DESCRIPTION You've asked often about my past, so I've decided to write a letter detailing what I remember of the territory now called Uzbekistan, and of my family.
Mother wept the day I was born.

Father was a spoke in the Khanates' wheel in our backwater hometown, a pastoral, ethnically Turkic village twenty miles from Samarkand. He was that - he was also a drunk. Not the bumbling kind of boozer you see in movies, nose red from burst capillaries and cheerful, tries to do the right thing, caterwauls songs when the drink’s in him.

No, to me, as a boy, my father was a devil when he drank. Mean, worthless, stinking … my father was not a man, not by my estimation.

I don’t remember my mother much. I knew she was his slave. The concept of Mother's status was never outlined for me, but I knew the concept of slave very well, and so I knew her status to my father and the village. To me she was a scared, mousey wisp of a woman, who Elder Brother hit as often as Father did.

From a few blurry recollections of when I was very young, I think she doted on me. I grew up with Pop’s physique, though, and once I got to an old enough age that it was clear I looked nothing like her, she left reality and never came back.

I fought with father constantly, always wanted him to hit me instead of her. I wanted to protect her.

My first bitter taste of failure came early. Pa beat mother to death with a tent pole. Came home one day, blood everywhere and the neighbors asking questions, dad long gone, using his glamour to run from the law. He’d initiated contact a few times in the following years. He’d tell me all about how he’d never touched a bottle since, which I knew wasn’t true because the cup of tea he was drinking in his pathetic little hideout was spiked. You could smell the liquor.

I left that town, Elder Brother in tow, and we both started learning more serious martial arts. I was young, and reckless, but I had a level head. And I was good. Very, very good. I found a fight with a worthy opponent to be the only thing that brought me joy.

Father’s long dead. He got so drunk he lowered the defenses and wandered into town, raving, where he was recognized and taken away to prison. They hung him quickly. Elder Brother wanted to see them do it; I stopped him. Didn’t want the bastard to have any family around him when he went, just the cold, hate-filled stares of strangers.

From there, things were better. I fell in love with a kitsune. Her name is not important. I do not want to write it.

When we met, imperialism had reached Central Asia long before. Russia was manipulating Samarkand, and starting to reach out into the Turkic tribes I spent the first two hundred years of my life among.

After the Sino-Russian war, I resolved to see Japan, then a rising world power at the height of the Meiji Era.

Japan at the time was incredibly xenophobic. Everywhere I turned, people turned away. I hated the Japanese, until I met her.

She ran a dojo and invited me to a spar. I agreed: we were so evenly matched that I was shocked. She was so small, and finely featured as a doll.

We were married in secret on the eve of World War II, when nationalism and hatred was boiling up in the country of her birth.

The bombs used to fall all day and all night. That was during the war, a terrible thing. Suddenly the claxons started howling, and the firebombs smashed through the wood and paper, setting all alight.

Many of my students had been thrown out of homes whose rations were scarce, told to go find jobs they were too young for. Others had watched their families, their homes, their whole lives consumed in flame, and fled here to be safe from the recruiters.

I believed back then in the value of discipline. I was strong, always able to provide enough food somehow, and though I saw the fires from a distance, my dojo was well-protected against human weapons.

She was a dissident: believed that everyone who was in charge from the emperor on down that had led her country on that doomed crusade should be deposed. And she was so feisty I think sometimes she thought she could do it herself.

That was 1944. But it was not to last.

Our dojo, on the outskirts of Nagasaki, then a bastion for foreigners like me and the Christian capital of Japan, seemed to us impregnable. But we were there on August 9th, 1945, when the atomic bomb was dropped. The mountains saved us from the worst of the blast, but not the fires.

She and I and my brother were the only survivors.

I remember the flames when I burned my students’ bodies.

One big pyre, one long prayer. My brother was there, hiding smiles that I still saw in his sick face, watching the roasting flesh with interest.

She was there, her concern and compassion like a blade, cutting me, for I selfishly wanted none of it.

She died of the radiation sickness, three months later.

I had no more ties to Japan. I migrated back into China, returning with all the Korean slaves. I returned to Samarkand. I wanted to herd sheep.

The Russians closed the iron curtain, and things became worse and worse. The memories of those times still send shudders down my spine, the fear, the suspicion. The hatred. I stayed in contact with the Seelie Court, who I knew had been watching from my birth. They were a bastion of help and sanity for me. I learned to really be a fae in those times, beyond just the rudimentary glamour I had gained early in life, and the magic that had always been there.

It was relief deep in my heart when Uzbekistan declared independence on August 31st, 1991.

Having been cooped up in my village for so long, I found sheep no longer diverting. I was afraid of going to America. The only things I knew of them were their bombs.

Eventually, though, I resolved to go and meet the people, to see if they were really as evil as they seemed. It took over two years to acquire legal permission to enter the country, but I was incredibly lucky, and did manage it. In December of 1993 I entered an airplane and flew, stopping over in Japan—hours I spent staring wide-eyed out at Tokyo's rebuilt skyline—and finally stopped off in San Francisco.

I never left the city. I settled in Chinatown, and slowly grew my feelings as a legal immigrant. In 1995, I entered the police academy under a push to diversify law enforcement. At first, I was a token minority beat cop with a funny accent. But I got through training, graduating the academy with honors. I started my job.

I made detective a couple years ago. I met you. The rest you know as well as myself.

This is my story. I hope it doesn't disturb you.

Yours with sincerity,
Tisu Bagci

His jet black hair is kempt, cut in an almost military-style. His eyes are black.
He’s a big guy, like a breathing mountain. His eyebrows are barely there, and his eyes are a rude bright black. His face is care-worn and lined, and he has square teeth and a stocky neck, which leads down into his ample muscles. He often forgets to shave, since a fae's glamoured hair grows more slowly, and then realizes he’s left it too long when he has a scruff of a beard.


Unflappable, indefatigable, enigmatic, and with that slight touch of honor and mercy that even he doesn’t know quite when he’ll reveal. The only way he sees to atone for his past was to never be vulnerable again. Perhaps he just wanted to become the monster he already felt himself to be. Perhaps he was just afraid of loving someone. Perhaps he was just afraid of growing old.
Tisu is a complex case. He’s like an anthill. The deeper you dig, the more tunnels appear, and inside each is a creature ready to bite. Layer upon layer of bravado, façades, contradicting desires and intensely-wrought obsessions. But, beneath it all, I suspect you’ll find just a normal man with a wounded heart, and a broken dream.
LIKES Orange juice, reading, classic Japanese films (Akira Kurosawa, anyone?), and listening to Hibari Misora sing.
DISLIKES Hearing arrogant talk, being disappointed, his elder brother.
FEARS Growing old. Infirmity. Also, he was an alcoholic when he was younger. He fears himself when he drinks.
DESIRE To forget his past.

He is a rarity, having both a father and a mother who were djinn. His father was a rogue fae, and he bought his mother from a slaver.
One older brother born to his father and mother together, who was closer to Tisu's father in temperament. Tisu was far more aligned with his mother.
None at the moment, may change rapidly. Soft spot for animals.



LORD TURNED SLAVE AU — In the ruins of this Earth, the City stands tall. It has always been, and it always will be. The lands outside this supernatural city are impoverished, isolated, producing at paces they can't sustain. But they must sustain them, for a dragon must eat as well as a man, and better he eat cattle than human meat for his dinner. To be a slave is to be the ghost of a person. To be a master is to be without limits. And if the humans suffer and die, they reproduce at a rate no other being can match. Rats die soon, too, but there's never any lack of them. And do you really weep when you put out the traps and poison? The City rules this world, but through the City, Taiga ruled his estate. There are humans who are complicit in the brutality of the City, who aid and abet and make a profit through their sycophancy to the City. Taiga, a young human lord who killed his brothers and their wives and children to ascend to his throne, is one such man. Taiga's brutality and lust for luxury and power led to enemies, which led to a violent climax in which an enemy lord laid siege to his castle, and dragged Taiga out into the ashes of his holdings. Taiga was sold to the City as a pet, to squeeze every last drop of wealth from his former estate, which was incredibly grand for a human's. Taiga is now a slave, and one who dreams of power and prestige.

SCI FI AU — In the year 2185, humans have already been spaceborne for nearly 100 years, and are continuing to grow throughout the galaxy. Unfortunately the galaxy's older alien species have grown angry at the humans' arrogance and disregard for aliens long-since settled on various planets. Many have begun to fight back — space isn't safe anymore, for anyone. The slave trade is rampant through the cosmos and human passenger ships bound for remote planets for settlement are constantly under attack from aliens. My boy Karim was born a slave to two former scientists. Escaping at the age of seventeen, he found work and sustenance as a human freedom-fighter, to rectify the position of humans, who have been enslaved by an intergalactic empire and denied citizenship. He and his group ransom people for money to build assets for ships and supplies. In the process of that, he kidnaps a diplomat who's cousin to the Emperor, their most daring heist yet. He bonds with his captive and his captive gets Stockholm, and he gets Lima syndrome (when a captor bonds with/empathizes with his captive). But of course, a diplomat cousin-to-the-emperor is a lot harder to keep secret than a petty dignitary, so imperial soldiers bust the ship open while Karim's with him (who I always saw as some kind of shapeshifting race, but y'know it's whatever). The ship is cleansed but the diplomat keeps Karim as his slave, spinning an official story that Karim is a hero who sold out his fellow terrorists to help the brave [Imperial race], and I had maybe 1048120831 ideas of where to go from there—all sorts of things, honestly.

RECONQUISTA AU — It's the year 1099, and magic is real. Most of it is done by the writing of spells, the contracting of demons, and enchanted objects. A rare few humans are born true mages, humans who have magic in their blood. The first crusade has just concluded with the sack and subsequent reclaiming of Jerusalem by the holy forces of Christendom. Crusaders, looking for a place to swing their swords, are flooding the Iberian peninsula—what Christians call the rightful kingdom of Spain—in order to take back the land from the Muslims who've ruled it since the 700's. Karim is a young mage in an Islamic village and Christian knights who are fighting in the Reconquista, just back from the crusade, burn his village to the ground and take him as a captive. Since he's a healer and a plant mage who can secure them food, the knight commander keeps him personally. Slowly, humanity is recognized through different cultures and religions, and something inside him tempts a good Christian knight into sodomy with a heretic—liable to get him shunned, and lose him his position, his reputation, his family and his estate.

KITSUNE AU — Taiga is a kitsune slave, born the slave of his master. His mother is serving a debt in a magic kingdom (I was thinking elves? LoTR-y? Lothlórien-y, if you know lotr, IDK) for a thousand years, and now he is born with that same debt. So he is the personal slave (gift) of his master's son, and at the tender age of 19 the two of them have grown up together and grown apart as slavery pulled them in two directions, master and slave, owner and owned. But both of them are hitting puberty and things inevitably turn sexual and yadda yadda this one most of my ideas are smut for but y'know that can be expanded.

TIME TRAVEL AU — A magical xxx (insert thing here) summons a man who has Everything Required to be their Godking (leader guy whatever). Very ordinary 21st century character ends up in a foreign land tryna find out how the fuck he's supposed to rule in a nest of snakes. We'll make loads of antagonists and have tons of political shit. Anyway, first order of business is finding out how to dispose of a foreign prince from a captured kingdom—good old Taiga. Since he's royal blood, he's technically supposed to become the personal slave of the Godking (we will make a different name if that doesn't appeal, I have historical titles out the wazoo), and his blood is captive currency to keep his father and five elder brothers from going to war.

KOWLOON WALLED CITY AU — Set in Kowloon Walled City ( / Kowloon Walled City was run by crime syndicates. It was entirely lawless: the government of Hong Kong left it totally alone, the only thing they provided was mail service. More brothels than schools in it, and it was always dark, unless you had a place on the walls or next to the roof. It was constructed without the aid of a single solitary engineer. 50,000 people lived there. People ran from the law into it a lot. I've been really considering Taiga and Crow spending their whole goddamn lives in that six-block radius, owned by the triad.

CAPTURED THIEF AU — Crow is a teenage thief taking his sister to a neighboring town to make some money and get her some food. He runs into the prince of the kingdom there, and is caught trying to steal from him. Rather than stringing Crow up by his neck for a hanging, the prince decides to make him his slave in repentence.

COPS N' ROBBERS AU — Taiga is a crime boss who runs a prostitution ring. He was a prostitute himself, but the favorite of the former boss. He became his second-in-command and then killed him and took over the family. Your boy is a cop captain who is a very powerful fantasy being and blames him for the sexual abuse of his brother, which happened when Taiga was former boss's lover. He kidnaps Taiga and drives him to a deserted area. And that starts a whole series of non-con situations between Taiga the former hooker and the cop. Wires get crossed, empathy appears, things get complicated.

CODE NAME: SPLICE PROJECT AU — Humanity has reached a turning point of overpopulation. With food and space shortages aplenty, humans have resorted to taking the "unwanted" part of civilization and changing them into part-animals, for use as slaves. Is it really for the better?

DRAGON AU — Tisu was once a ferocious dragon, a leader of armies. People quaked before his path. But that was years ago. He fell in love with a woman who was murdered—shutting himself away, thinking there was nothing to enjoy in life anymore, he bought a slave to help him return to daily life. Inspired by Beauty and the Beast.

DRAGON SLAVE AU — Yes, Tisu was a terrible dragon, a being of fire and smoke. People feared him. But that was years ago. He fell in love with a woman who was murdered by a God—and in the process of trying to slaughter her murderer, he alienated the governance of the earth, the Gods themselves. He was punished for it, confined to the form of a man, and made a slave of a family of mages. The family has a son, a rare and beautiful occurrence for magical beings, which have low birth rates. Tisu, though a slave, was as much a father to the young mage as his own parent, and in most ways far more so. But the boy he raised, who he sees as a child, wants his dragon teacher and mentor to see him as an adult. The process of that is confusing and a little cruel, since Tisu is a slave and trapped without a dragon's magic, at the mercy of every spell the teenage mage uses on him at whim.

PERIOD AU — Olden Times, or just a fantasy-esque setting. A is a britches-wearing farm boy, and B is a pirate or a brigand or a general or whatever you see him as. The point is, he razes A's town and then rapes A in its ashes. I'd like to play A. Kink: Flogging, caning, whipping, some form of beating after, during, or before sex.

— Slavery is the basis of our entire economy.

VIKINGS AU — A German monk meets a rampaging viking. The rest of the story is up to you.

DRUG KINGPIN AU — Set in the background of international drug cartels, two people meet and form an unlikely, if forced relationship.

« Last Edit: February 25, 2018, 01:13:17 PM by Sekah »

Online SekahTopic starter

I had some time so I've added a TON more ideas for plots!

The Lord Turned Slave AU would be really great for another Lord character: I could imagine someone who knew Taiga as a Lord and maybe somehow was part of his downfall. We can discuss it if you choose that one!

The Sci Fi AU includes all sorts of gems of ideas—crossed wires, healing of old hurts, and great scenes like Karim teaching your character to swim and teaching karim self-defense and karim actually managing to smack / kick the crap out of him.

Also, love to get someone willing to do a non-human race of shapeshifters—really think through how a different planet might have resulted in different evolution! And we can add that they shapeshift like octopi on steroids so it needn't be entirely or primarily exotic sex. Not necessary, though.

Reconquista AU is another I have a billion ideas and side characters for—medieval priests, even a slave son and slave mother of your character.

Kitsune slave I'm interested in alllll kinds of scenes for—picture Taiga scenting a lady fox spirit in heat and going into his first rut in public, and badly embarrassing his master. Also? Some kind of catnip for fox spirits. Taiga gets into it in the garden.

Captured thief doesn't have to be a Nice Guy trope character. Making him a slave instead can be for very not-nice ideas indeed.

I have a lot of thoughts about crime boss Taiga too, if you want to hear those.