( open post | november 2013 )

[actor]

PICK YOUR POISON. leave me an image/word/lyrical prompt with the character of your choice, and i'll reply accordingly! or don't leave a prompt at all! just drop me a character, and i'll make some magic happen. nsfw prompts are v okay, as always.

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50 shades of greyjoy

[une]

[It's a wonder what hotel rooms must see over the course of their lives. How many illicit dalliances have made their beds creak? How many infamous faces have their mirrors looked upon? Elle sits at the foot of her bed and wonders as she toys with the belt on her bathrobe, tying and untying the knot around her waist over and over. How long until she hears a knock on her suite's door? Can she really go through with this?

It's not easy being a politician's wife. You're expected to turn a blind eye to your husband's philandering while staying loyal to him. When he crawls into your bed, you're expected to please him as best you can since it's your duty to produce children for lovely little photo ops. If his allies see fit to be inappropriate with you (No, please don't. Please. You've had too much to drink. Don't...), you're expected to just take it to keep his reputation clean. After all, who are the constituents going to stone? The corporate titan with a huge family and several charities to his name or the senator's wife framed in the media as a "frigid bitch?" She already knows how the narrative's going to play.

Sounds like she needed a good lay.

She probably seduced him since her husband's not going to get re-elected.

Just look at her. This has mental breakdown written all over it.

Hypothetical news reports play in her head and she can't seem to silence them. Desperate, she seeks a way to escape her lot in life even for a little while. When it comes to her body, everything has been dictated to her for far too long. She's never truly been able to decide what to wear (that's what stylists are for), what to eat (that's what nutritionists are for), or who gets to bury themselves between her thighs (that's what family is for). In a fit of pique, she's checked herself into a hotel suite to lock herself away from the world for just a little while. It's time she took control of something. For once, she'll be able to share her bed with someone of her own choosing. Just this once. I'll pay for it just this one time.

And so she waits for the knock, letting the seconds tick away as she anticipates the lover she's chosen to rent for the night.]

[devilish]

[ while elle has grown up in the cold comforts of luxury, theon greyjoy has been accepting cash for mediocre fucks from lonely people since he was nineteen.

he's fucked timid women and timid men, mouthy redheads and nervous blondes, and every encounter ends the same, with his client spread across soiled hotel bedsheets or cracked leather chairs. sometimes a client calls back and asks for him again, and he fucks them with his hands closed around their throat until they come for him, sputtering and red-faced, and he rolls off with a biting get the fuck out.

no one ever asks him for more than twice. and the ones who do get a door slammed in their fucking face.

still, he makes a decent wage, despite his shortage of repeats.

his client for the night never gives him her name, and theon never bothers to ask. he gets lost twice on his way to the hotel, somehow passing right by the building entirely before he realizes he's going in the wrong direction and swerves his car around at the next left. by the time he finds his way to elle's door, he's slightly out of breath and a little irritated, pinching at the bud of his cigarette before flicking the stub into a nearby trash.

he knocks just once, leaning an arm against the wall and looking down as he kicks the toe of his boot against polished stone floors. whoever this woman is, she's got fine tastes — and a fuckload of cash. ]

he should say cocktopussy :>

[une]

[Carpeted flooring meets her bare feet as she makes her way to the door. With any luck, her selected tryst won't be politically-inclined. She can afford to pay him hush money if he recognizes her but she'd rather not spend more than she already has. Her hand shakes as she turns the knob. Once she lets him in, there's no turning back.

Just let it happen.

Memories of her assault echo in her head; the way she was pinned down as he pawed and slobbered like some animal while he moved over her. She needs to silence those recollections. She needs to take her life back. This is the first step.

Without further preamble, she opens the door to the stranger who will grant her release. Though she's clad only in her bathrobe, her hair is nicely combed and make-up lends life to her pale face. It wouldn't do any good to make his job harder than it already is. The least she can do is offer a decent first impression.]

What should I call you?