bakerstreet | Brothel AU

Entry tags:

Brothel AU

the brothel AU meme

If sex work is the world's oldest profession, then the brothel may be among the world's oldest businesses. The scene could be anywhere: the modern world, a riff on Middle Earth, a futuristic space colony. Wherever you go, there will always be a demand for your services... and whether you're a high-class escort to the elite or the jewel of the slums, it's a living.

How to Play

1. Top level with your preference: sex worker, client, or either
2. Pick your prompt/s and set a scene, or just wing it!
3. Tag around!

Prompts

1. old pro
You're a proper professional with an active client base and a reputation for your skills. Can you leverage that experience to your advantage?

2. newbie
You're new to this profession and still finding your footing. Some clients find that charming, and other workers may take you under their wing.

3. demonstration
This is a special job: you're putting on a show for an audience, or maybe you're showing a new worker the ropes.

4. forbidden love
Sex workers know better than to fall for a client, and clients know better than to fall for a sex worker. Perhaps even more fraught is a relationship between two workers. This time, however... you just can't help yourself.

5. SO experience
Your job isn't just about the sex. You provide the entire girl/boyfriend experience: doting words, public appearances, accepting gifts. And yet, it's just a job... right?

6. something extra
Kink, monsters, transformation, and magic, oh my! There's something a little different about the services you offer.

7. getaway
You're ready to break away from this life, whether it's on your own or with someone you've grown close to.

8. wildcard
Anything goes!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ If the sex worker, most likely he's fallen on hard times and is doing it to get by/his family has been defeated by invaders and he's been put up for grabs, basically. As a client he'd be very shy about it, and most likely is doing it to learn the ropes/because he's queer and can't let his family know. Open to crosscanon/etc! :) ]

(( ooc: so, I'm 100% here for 2, with him either having to handle his first client, or having some coworker give him guidance so he can 'hone his craft'.

Also 4 is my jam and I would love him to fall for some handsome, rich guy that happens to 'buy' his time (maybe with 7 as end-game?). Also 6, but with him as a client and looking for a non-human being to spend some time with~

Open to all if going for 6, m/m for the other two! Preferences are here ))

( not interested in 4/5/7 but the rest is game! if someone wants a kink list i will put one up later, i forgot. )

[Open to any of the prompts. More likely the worker than the client, can AU into most settings if I have enough info.]

Those without swords can still die upon them. So she said, a lifetime ago; but she was wrong, it seems, for she cannot die. They will not let her die. They would not let her die on the battlefield, where she stood in defence of Edoras until a blow from behind knocked her senseless; and they would not let her die in that long and bloody journey that took her through lands she had only seen on maps; they would not kill her in Slaver's Bay, and they have taken everything from her, time and again, but still they will not let her die.

It has been a year since she was left in command of Edoras; a year since she failed in her duty to her people, and let the city fall. Much of that time has been spent in a deeper despair than she had thought herself capable of, in the black horror of her own shame and grief; it makes her numb, and even when she learns what her fate is to be, it does not shake that numbness. She fights, at first; has had to be pulled bodily off more than one of her captors, biting and clawing. She fights not to be freed, but to drive them to kill her, for she will not live this way, will not live knowing what her failure has cost. But though they beat her, whip her, starve her, still they will not kill her; and in time, she grows to understand that she cannot force their hand to it without better weapons than she has, and like a badly-broken horse, she falls to sluggish obedience. She cannot, and will not, play the part they mean her to: cannot feign desire, or play the coquette, or find sweet nothings to murmur. But she is fair and well-made; and she has even now an air of nobility that some men will gladly seek to shatter; and there is an exotic edge to her look, to the lean and sculpted planes of her body, the syllables that fall from her tongue when she does deign to speak. She has become something other than what she was, some plaything that will be bought and sold and not flinch to be ill-used; but still the ghost of the White Lady of Rohan lingers, that sureness in her body and that echo of old arrogance in her sad grey eyes, and it is enough to make her more than just a broken jade, enough to raise her to notice among the other whores and slaves who may be softer and more ready to please.

It is by such notice that she finds herself now in King's Landing, and the shackles are gone from her wrists and ankles, for where would she run? Her homeland, if it still exists (and how it hurts her heart not to know; how it aches to think that all she stood to protect may have fallen to her weakness!), is an ocean and a world away; and she is no longer the woman who left it. She is no warrior any more; no maiden; no lady high and valiant. She is only what they have made her, and Éowyn has retreated into the shadows of her own shame, and left the shell of herself to linger in the cloistered halls of this brothel. A ghost in the shadows, whose powdered face can hide her bruises but not the look of cold and distant grief in her eyes; who somehow seems to make a fine and courtly gown of a bodice cut too low to hide her rouged nipples, a skirt slit high to one muscular thigh. She is a silent and sorrowful thing: and yet there is, even now, a steel to her, a furious strength held in careful check. The callouses have faded from her hands, but still they itch for a sword, a knife, a shield.

Those with swords, she sometimes thinks, in bitter echo of her past self, may die upon them.

But she has no sword, and they will not let her die. And so, here she waits, silent and still, in one of the private rooms to which she has been instructed; here she waits with her golden hair brushed loose around her shoulders, her cheeks and the whip scars on her back powdered over, her chin lifted in unconscious and lingering defiance; here she waits, and does not flinch from the only duty that is left to her, for she has no sword, and she is no lady. And they will not let her die.

Silas Dengdamor | Dirk Gently | OTA

Insector Haga / YuGiOh

kiria kurono | tokyo mirage sessions | ota

Éowyn | Lord of the Rings | OTA

CLOSED to perforo - cw: non-con/slavery, suicidal ideation

Wrecker | Star Wars| OTA, with a M/M preference

Worick Arcangelo | GANGSTA. | ota

no subject

Xue Yang | The Untamed | Open

bruno buccellati | jjba | ota

jyn erso || rogue one || ota

cassian andor || rogue one || ota

rey || star wars || ota

ben solo || star wars || ota

bodhi rook || rogue one || ota

rose tico || star wars || ota

Duo Maxwell | Gundam Wing | M/M

Tifa Lockhart | Final Fantasy VII/VIIR | M/F

Noctis Lucis Caelum | Final Fantasy XV | M/M

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | M/M

Alina Starkov | Grishaverse | M/F

Zhou Zishu | Word of Honor | M/M

no subject