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Entry tags:
SUMMER TEST DRIVE MEME
⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE
The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin. Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.
You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively again as the weather warms back up from the recent snowstorm.
As you explore, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.
Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.
This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.
When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.
breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.
Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Anyone who's already appeared in the village just as you did today lives here. Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, and some scorch marks still linger from a recent fire, and some furniture is still lying around in splinters.
Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.
finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!
THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE
Summer is in full swing, which means it's time to take advantage of the warm weather! Around the town, various games are being played, some sport-based and some more concerned with creativity, problem-solving, sex, or 'fun'. Each round begins with a prayer to the Duchess. Not bowing your head in prayer may get you a few stares from locals, or worse-- opponents may be extra motivated to defeat someone so disrespectful to her Grace.Each Thursday, buildings are festooned with wreathes of wildflowers, tables are laden with food and drink, and everyone is given colored sashes to wear over their clothes. Festival goers are not allowed to enter the main events unless they wear a sash, and to get a sash they must reveal their curse marks. Those marked with the curse of Wilk receive blue sashes, Diabel get red, Skala receive green and Niez are as ever adorned with grey.
Summertide, the locals are eager to explain, is a festival about adapting to the needs of others, and accepting things as they are. What perhaps isn't explained nearly so well is the expectations placed upon festival goers. Each event has a goal to be achieved, balanced on the point of competition or participation.
Tables overflow with refreshments, especially drinks and chilled fruit to cool the summer heat. Rubeans traditionally spice their foods with aphrodisiacs, something that is so culturally normal to them that they don't feel the need to mention it.
Throughout all of this, some of the implementation of these games may occasionally come across as either overly cruel or overly kind. The common people of Rubilykskoye are of two minds when it comes to the treatment of newcomers: some think you are beneficent, sent to fix their problems and free them of your woes. These people, called Blackguards, will do their best to make sure your participation in the games is not marred by cheating, excessive violence, or pain. But others, called the Zlatniki, think little of the outsiders coming into their lands, and will do their best to twist their native traditions toward cruelty and vindictive unfairness when it comes to the Void-touched.
writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try participating in events, having your characters go against opponents, be drafted into the games against their will, or watching others perform!
NIGHT OF THE HUNTSMEN
Rumor moves through town quickly: two nights ago, a hunting party went out into the wood, and no one has seen them since. Anyone who wants to prove their worth to the community is encouraged to join the search parties going out to look for them; in Rubilykskoye, those who provide food for the community are highly prized, especially when they brave the woods to do so.You see, the woods aren't entirely safe. Near the town, it's nothing to be alarmed by, and of course the search parties find nothing there. They must delve deeper, and that's where you end up. At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.
Many peel off, going back to the town proper. The searchers become fewer and fewer. Maybe some of them are going back home, but maybe they're getting lost. Eventually, you walk around a large tree, and you're alone. It's just you and the Void.
The air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.
Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.
Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?
Yet the further you go, the more convinced you become that the missing hunters are near by. You're sure you can hear them on the wind, their voices calling out between the trees. Did you just see something out of the corner of your eye? You have to find them. You have to make all this darkness worth it.
writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger! Feel free to find the bodies of the missing hunting party-- or hallucinate that you did.
RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST
Something's wrong here.
The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.
Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.
Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.
Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do.
Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.
(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)
The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.
Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.
Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.
someone else transforms
Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do. Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.
(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)
you waited too long
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.
Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.
As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.
As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
out of the woods
He looks different than she's ever seen him, but nothing could matter less to her. Blood and all, the sight of him cuts so sharply she could cry. Very few could have come out of the woods and screamed 'home' louder than him. It's only his nakedness, the disorientation she knows he must be feeling like she had, that keeps her from dissolving.
The Valyrian comes so naturally to her lips that one would never known she'd only once had the occasion to use it in months. ]
𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊.
no subject
[He wants to touch her.]
[He does not. (She's filthy.)]
𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚? [Anger is a finely tailored suit, for him, but that makes it no less true.] 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘?
no subject
But how could he know what Aegon had done to her? Her hand flies to the scar on her chest without thinking, the taste of steel never far from her memory. She's been out of her finery so long she doesn't even think about what she's wearing. ]
𝕬𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖓. [ The name tumbles out, hot with hatred. ] 𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗.
[ She doesn't expect him to understand. She hadn't at first, but he needs to know. If Aegon came after her, who's to say he won't send Aemond after him? But that's when she finally seems to notice the hair clinging to his improvised club.
Brown, not silver. Disappointment rather than horror colors her face. ]
I don't believe that was him. I'd never have such good luck.
no subject
[He spits each sibilant with a disgusted hiss. This kind of poetic theatre is also his due, and it feels right. If he cannot stab and kill his enemy now, he may as well swear it to the stars.]
[And there is Rhaenyra, small and soft as a maiden, as the beautiful light she was. It is a relief, perhaps even a guilty one, to see her so, and not the woman wracked by bitter grief. Did he leave her? Is she gone? Has he traded her for this waif, unruined by Harwin Strong?]
[He kneels and holds her face between his hands. There's nothing to be done about the nudity, now. He keeps it out of mind until it's relevant.] It will be his soon enough. I need only sword and plate. Not even plate, if he is in his cups. [Anything for her.]
i'm living for the timeline disparity
But he's here now and the promise is what breaks her, the promise of justice and revenge and most tempting of all, protection. She lets the tiniest of sobs escape her before surging past his hands and throwing her arms around him, a girl once again.
She's never allowed herself to show weakness in front of him before, but she's felt so weak without him. ]
𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖚𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖊.
it's very normal.
[He could kindle it.]
[Already, the tale spins in his head. What he could do for her, and what could be done to this place. Hardly a kingdom, but resources are resources. Has he not proved an indefatigable foe? And with a younger queen at his side, a maiden made anew...]
[He could work with this.] 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗. 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚? [For surely she is being held captive, to be forced into this... He wipes her tear away with a calloused thumb.] 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖉.
only now realizing we didn't cw for incest kjnknk
But she doesn't let go of him either. Not yet. ]
𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊. 𝕬𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖓, 𝕬𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉. 𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙. [ It still hurts to think about, that for a time she had felt safe, if never liked. But it turned out that Alicent's love was no shield at all. ] 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝕴 𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊.
𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓.
[ Yet she hadn't felt shame about it until just now, until imagining showing Daemon the little cot she'd been calling home, and now she does not wish to go back. ]
I have no handmaids to dress and mend for me now. [ A little shove for the observation. ] This place cares not for who we are.
CW INCEST CW GROOMING FROM HERE ON OUT!!!!
[He will make her one here, as well. And he will be king.]
[She is almost frighteningly beautiful here, a memory of a memory. He indulges himself. A kiss, brief and sweet against her lips. A promise and a thrill. (This is not to comfort himself with tantalizing familiarity. She needs this. He is sure she needs this, not him.)] We will make them care, wife.
white hair spotted, implied incest cw
But more than the kiss, that word... Wife. Yet she is someone else's wife, is she not? ]
You came too late, Daemon. [ Reproach, anger finally kindling. She can always reach for anger to gird her now, it is never far. ] I was married to Laenor once the body was removed from the hall.
[ And he had been nowhere to be found. ]
no subject
[This is not true. He would make the same choices, because those were the best choices available. But then is not now, there is not here. The salt scent of her tear bringing to mind the Velaryons, his different choices, different things. All gone, now.]
Come with me.
no subject
He asks her to go with him and it's more words than he'd needed the first time. She can't say no. ]
Clothes first. A real weapon.
[ The man of the family she's been staying with (there are two, but one is most certainly not the one in charge) is around Daemon's height. There is an axe out by the woodshed. ]
So you might prove yourself.
no subject
[He doesn't like to hear no, but it's a good look on her, and only her. Still, he bargains. He's still on his knees. Naked and prostrated, something a Targaryen prince-- king!-- should never be. He moves into her space, though he barely ever left it.]
You know the rules of songs, Rhaenyra. [He leans in. His mouth is curved into mischief's bow.] Kiss me again.
no subject
We are not a song. [ Not yet, anyway. ] We are dragons.
[ She surges in for that kiss, emboldened by his
neggingsparring. Her delicate fingers disappear in his hair, combing back through to hold him as if daring for him to break off and leave her again. The blood of whatever boy he'd killed rubs off on her but it is nothing. Only blood. ]no subject
[The kiss is a heady thing, his hands on her face, clutching her close. His tongue darts between her lips, tasting her, hopefully overwhelming her. He wants her to know what she is wanted. This is important for tactical reasons, and not just his ego. His ego is a tertiary concern at least. Really.]
(cw: rape culture thinking/adjacent stuff)
No one else can impose their will on her but Daemon takes the way others ask. She sinks to her knees, shrinking before him while clinging fiercely to to his neck, grasping at muscle hard from war. Scar tissues she hadn't known was there. He pulls an encouraging sound from her with his tongue and Rhaenyra nips at him, daring him. ]
cw torture mention, virginity fetishism.
[He turns his head, sucking at the sweet skin of her throat. She was seventeen when she married Laenor, wasn't she? A maiden, or so close it barely counts. His people inside the castle had whispered something about moon tea as a precaution, but that could have meant anything.]
[He'll be powerful when he has her again, and, the truth is, he needs her. If he's going to make this place his, it will be theirs. He'll watch her strength bloom within her, and it will be his inspiration.]
[He carries her into the trees.] Tell me what you want, my queen.
no subject
A harsh, hot breath against his ear as he delves to her throat and as they move farther into shadow, Rhaenyra does not stop him. There are no septons here to bless them, to make it real. But the dragon does not worship the seven. They pray to no gods but fire. ]
For you to prove it. That I am your queen. [ She takes his face as he had taken hers, looks into him to see the truth of him. ] Make it so, my love.
cw sexist language & age gap / underage from here on out.
Have you longed for me? [And then his voice turns a corner, becomes that cruel thing, goading.] How often have you whimpered my name with your fingers in your cunt?
[He thinks, after what he remembers of the brothel (so long ago!), she'll enjoy this. She seemed to like rising to filthy challenges at that age.]
(cw: discussion of murder/femicide as foreplay)
Never.
[ A withholding denial as she smirks for him, trying to mask the flicker of doubt she'd just felt. She will not doubt this, not now at long last. Besides, they have much more wicked whispers to share with one another. ]
Did you kill your wife for me? [ She winds her legs around him as she asks, holding him with all the strength in her slim thighs. It is not as if she does not already know the answer. ] So we would be free to marry?
no subject
[He knows better, now. He uses his relative size to loom, his arms on either side of her head. He bends down to meet her in a pushup, taking her lip between her teeth for a nip that is a little more than playful.] I don't believe you.
[He can also understand why he never had the patience to romance maidens, and instead bought their time, but this is enticing for its novelty. He turns his head to the side to whisper in her ear.] Of course not. Who would want to marry a murderer?
[He pushes her body close to hers, putting his weight on her, his lean strength. He breathes in her ear. He lets her reckon with the shape of his body, naked against her rough dress.]
no subject
I know you don't. Because you have often thought of me when with your whores.
[ Whispered back against his lips, surging up to meet him for another kiss. She would not use Otto's words if she were not trying to get a rise from him but she knows now that it must be true. His interest had not ever, in fact, been idle. ]
Your hands are far from clean. [ He's far from clean now but she cannot bring herself to care, not entangled with him as she is. He's a cage atop her and she can feel him making his intension known, staking a claim that's never felt more appropriate. ] I'll not have you lying to me, Daemon.
cw threatening violence, bad vibes.
Do you want to be treated like my whores? [It's a threat, it's a question.]
(cw: escalating brat behavior, whore slander/borderline roleplay)
She could say a thousand things. Yes, she almost says. Wasn't that exactly what he'd done the last time? Approached her in a brothel, put her at risk, thought only of himself. Then left her behind. ]
Perhaps. [ She breathes out instead, suddenly wet and losing her resolve to play with him. But she still remembers Dragonstone, the confrontation on the bridge, and a challenge flashes in her eyes as she looks back at him from over her slight shoulder and writhes back against the weight of him. ] You called me 'wife'. But I know sometimes you marry your whores.
cw violent / consent play upcoming.
[He wrenches her dress up over her little hips, hardly ready to bear a child. His hand rests at her cunt, but his fingers still before intruding. She's still Targaryen. She's Viserys' daughter. She deserves a modicum of respect.]
[Instead, she gets a warning.] You go too far. This is your last chance to apologize.
no subject
She keeps herself from breathing out the word finally as he manhandles her dress out of the way and even though he stops, he'll find her wet against his hesitation, burning with want. With defiance.
Apologize? He should be the one apologizing! ]
Or what? Will you punish your queen?
cw anti sex worker language.
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cw age gap fetishism, grooming.
(cw: hair-pulling)
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