#asoif roleplay

[problematicck]

BATTLE OF THE LIONS

The Dragon's ruled Westeros for many, many years. However, that all changed. After certain unexpected circumstances occurred, Lord Lannister took this opportunity into putting his long-planned strategies of getting into greater power in play, which caused one of Westeros' biggest rebellions yet. With most of the regions on his side, whether they liked it or not, they attacked King's Landing with everything they had against the Targaryen's and their dragons. After a grueling time of sieging and battle, Lord Lannister found himself sitting on the Iron Throne with the blood of the dragons slain along the stones below him. 

Now, the kingdom is filled with debt, unrest and disease. King's Landing is destroyed, regions have no coin or troops from funding a war they didn't want to be involved with, an increase of crime has been noticed in all cities, and has left the people exposed with no homes and disease. With vulnerable times comes bigger plays at power. The question is -- can you play the game and survive? 

 - 18+ Only Server 

- Literate Writers 

- Writing Prompt Entry 

- Many Openings in Great Houses

 - LGBTQ+ Friendly 

- No Spectators, Writers Only https://discord.gg/gt6uQhxu8K

[theirxnprice]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐱𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 — indie && semi-selective theon greyjoy from the asoif series. show inspired, book adaptable, and heavily headcanon based. this account may feature material classified as DD:DNE as is in line with the canon source material, please be aware before interacting. minors dni.

[aelyxtarg]

Rhaenyra and her wife's dragon Vermithor

[ophelias-lamentation]

every single thing I touch has turned into ashes

An au set 150 years after the current timeline, separate northern kingdom. Elaine Tully is wife to Theon Stark, heir to the throne of winter.

Tw: child death, gore, violence, beheading

originally written for an rp server so some grammar things may seem weird. Lemme know if y’all want the funeral monologue!

The corridors of Winterfell were hushed, their familiar coldness seeping into the stone walls as the evening deepened into night. Elaine moved with a practiced grace, her children at her side, their small hands wrapped in hers. Rickard, her eldest, walked close beside her, his steps light and eager as he clung to his mother’s warmth. Sansa, still just a babe, was cradled in Elaine’s arms, her small head resting against her mother’s shoulder, the soft rhythm of her breathing a quiet comfort in the stillness of the castle.

Behind them, Violet, Elaine’s handmaiden, followed with a candle, its flickering light casting long, wavering shadows along the walls. The warmth of the flames barely penetrated the chill in Elaine’s heart. The day had been ordinary, routine even, yet an uneasy feeling had settled in her chest, one she could not shake. Perhaps it was the gathering of storm clouds on the horizon or the way the wind whispered through the trees, but something felt different tonight.

The children’s chambers were dimly lit, the fire in the hearth casting a soft glow across the room. Elaine gently lowered Sansa into her crib, the babe stirring but not waking as she tucked the blanket around her. Rickard was already in bed, his small face illuminated by the firelight, his eyes bright with the remnants of the day’s excitement.

“Sleep now, my loves,” Elaine murmured, brushing a kiss against Rickard’s forehead before turning to check on Sansa once more. The routine was comforting, familiar. It grounded her, and for a moment, the unease began to ebb away.

As she straightened, her eyes caught on Violet, who was moving about the room with uncharacteristic stiffness. There was something off in her movements— hesitant and almost mechanical. Violet’s usually graceful demeanor seemed forced, her actions more deliberate than fluid. The handmaiden’s hands trembled slightly as she smoothed Rickard’s blanket, and Elaine’s frown deepened.

‘Everyone has off days,’ Elaine thought to herself, pushing aside the discomfort that threatened to settle in her chest. Violet had served her faithfully for years. Whatever was troubling her tonight, it was not Elaine’s place to pry—at least not yet.

But then, as Elaine reached for the blanket to tuck it more securely around Rickard, her eyes caught on something that made her blood run cold. A long, jagged cut ran along Violet’s arm, the wound fresh and oozing blood through the sleeve of her gown.

“Violet, you’re hurt!” Elaine exclaimed, her voice filled with concern as she instinctively reached out. “How did this happen?”

Violet paused, her eyes meeting Elaine’s for a fraction of a second before she quickly averted them. Her response was flat, devoid of emotion. “It’s nothing, my lady. Just a scratch.”

Elaine opened her mouth to press further, but before she could speak, a sound from the doorway drew her attention. She turned, her breath catching in her throat as a shadow moved into the room. The figure was tall, dressed in dark clothing that blended into the dim light of the chamber. His face was hidden beneath a hood, and in his hand, he held a sword, its blade stained with fresh blood. He reached up a hand, shedding the hood, revealing a face that was almost entirely ordinary, a large scar traveled from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and his mouth was twisted into a sick and sadistic smile.

Elaine’s heart lurched in her chest, her instincts clawing at her to protect her children. The scream that rose in her throat was stifled as Violet suddenly twisted her arm behind her back, the force strong enough to make Elaine’s head spin them Violet clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling any cries for help. Panic surged through her, hot and suffocating, as she struggled against Violet’s grip. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic attempt to understand what was happening.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be some twisted nightmare, but the pain in her arm, the cold edge of the blade against her throat, and the acrid scent of blood told her otherwise. This was real, horrifyingly real.

Sansa remained blissfully unaware, her soft breaths the only sound in the room. Rickard, however, was wide-eyed with terror, his small body trembling as he watched the scene unfold, too scared to move or make a sound.

Elaine’s thoughts were a whirlwind, her vision blurring as she fought to focus. She couldn’t let this happen. She had to protect them, had to save her children. Summoning every ounce of strength she had, Elaine bit down hard on Violet’s hand, feeling the skin break beneath her teeth, tasting blood as it filled her mouth. Violet hissed in pain, but her grip did not falter. Instead, she pressed the blade harder against Elaine’s throat, the sharp edge cutting into her skin, and Elaine felt the warm trickle of blood begin to seep down her neck.

“Run, Rickard!” Elaine managed to scream, her voice raw with desperation and terror. “Run to your father!”

For a moment, Rickard hesitated, his eyes flickering between his mother and the shadowy figure by the door. Then, with a burst of courage, he bolted for the doorway, his small feet pounding against the cold stone floor. But the tall figure moved with frightening speed, his hand shooting out to grab Rickard by the hair, yanking the boy back with brutal force. Rickard’s cry of pain and fear tore through Elaine, shredding her heart as she watched helplessly. 

The man’s voice was as cold as his eyes. "You should have stayed hidden, little prince. It would have been kinder."

The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing in as the air grew thick with terror. Violet’s voice was a low, sinister hiss in her ear, “You have to choose, my lady. One must die, and one will live. You do not know which, but you must choose. Or they both die.”

Elaine’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces as she looked at her children. Sansa, still asleep, her tiny form peaceful and unaware. Rickard, his face pale with fear, his body trembling in the grip of the assassin who held him. How could she choose between them? How could she decide which of her children would live and which would die?

“Please,” Elaine pleaded, her voice breaking with the weight of her anguish. “Kill me instead. Spare them. I beg you, please.”

But the tall figure shook his head, his voice as cold and merciless as the steel he wielded. “Choose.” It was simple, direct, a threat.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Elaine’s mind reeled, desperately searching for a way out, for some impossible solution that would save them both. But there was none. The reality of her situation crushed her, an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling as she choked out the words she never thought she would have to say. “Sansa… I choose Sansa.” She was young, if it was death the girl would not know what was happening, her sweet girl.

The assassin’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark, twisted satisfaction. He released Rickard, and for one brief, excruciating moment, a flicker of hope ignited in Elaine’s heart. Perhaps she had saved him. Perhaps—

With a single, swift stroke, the assassin's sword cut through the air, and in that same heartbeat, Rickard's head was severed from his body.

Elaine's world shattered. An ear-piercing scream tore from her throat, so raw, so guttural, that it seemed to reverberate through the very stone of Winterfell, a wail that echoed with the agony of a mother’s heart being torn apart. Her legs crumpled beneath her, no longer able to bear the weight of this new, crushing reality. She collapsed to the cold, unforgiving floor, her hands scrambling desperately over the blood-slicked stone as she crawled to what was left of her son.

She gathered Rickard’s small, lifeless body into her trembling arms, her hands slick with the blood that poured from his neck. The warm, viscous fluid soaked into her gown, the coppery scent overwhelming her senses, mingling with the chill of the winter air. His blood—her son’s blood—flowed over her, drowning her in a tide of grief and horror that was more than she could bear.

Rickard’s head, severed and still, lay just a short distance away, his once bright, innocent eyes now dull and void of life. The blood pooled around them, a dark, terrible reminder of the life that had been so cruelly and abruptly ended. It stained the cold stone floor, marking the final, irrevocable end of her son’s brief life.

Sansa’s cries pierced the air, a desperate, terrified wail that cut through the thick haze of Elaine’s sorrow. Her daughter’s voice, shrill and panicked, was a knife twisting in Elaine’s chest. She looked up, her vision blurred by tears, her heart breaking anew with every sob that escaped Sansa’s lips. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t bring herself to rise and comfort her daughter. All she could do was hold Rickard’s body, her mind a storm of grief and despair, the world around her reduced to nothing but the unbearable weight of her loss.

The assassins moved with the cold efficiency of those who had done this before, countless times. They took Rickard’s head as they left, their footsteps barely a whisper as they disappeared into the shadows. Elaine barely noticed their departure, her entire being consumed by the small, lifeless body in her arms.

Winterfell’s stone walls, once a bastion of safety and warmth, now closed in around her, cold and indifferent. The life she had known, the world she had built for her children, was gone, shattered beyond repair. Her heart ached with a pain so deep, so consuming, that it felt as though it might tear her apart from the inside out.

Elaine’s sobs filled the room, raw and unrelenting, her body trembling uncontrollably as she clutched Rickard’s lifeless form to her chest. Her mind screamed at her to act, to rise, to do something, to save Sansa, to comfort her, but she was paralyzed by the overwhelming grief, the unbearable weight of her loss. It was as though time had stopped, leaving her trapped in this moment of unimaginable horror, unable to move forward, unable to escape.

When the guard finally arrived, he found a scene from a nightmare. Elaine was huddled on the floor, covered in blood, her gown drenched, her face streaked with tears and gore. She held her son’s headless body in her arms, rocking back and forth in a macabre lullaby of despair. The cut on her neck, left by the assassin’s blade, bled freely, but she made no move to staunch it. She simply let it flow, a mother’s blood mingling with her son’s, a final, futile act of love in a world that had shown her nothing but cruelty. He was cold.

There was no solace, no comfort to be found in this moment. Only the crushing, suffocating weight of loss, and the cold, unfeeling walls of Winterfell, silent witnesses to a mother’s insurmountable grief.

[theroguesson]

Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of Prince Daemon, the Rogue Prince, is now open for RP. 18+ and oc friendly! Looking to write against an Alicent, Rhaenyra or a Laena! Send me all your oc’s too!! Got an itching for a group rp as well if anyone’s keen for that!! Like or message me whenever

[lastheros]

“ jon snow : bastard and oathbreaker , motherless , friendless , & damned . ”

lastheros - independent , semi - selective , novel based , mature themes. JON SNOW - THE LAST HERO !

a study in : well - kept secrets , brothers by blood and by oath , unexpected origins , motherless bastards , running from your destiny , && more

DIREWARG : penned by daphne , she / they , 21 - mdni, more active on insta ( longclawed ) & discord ( direwolved ).

[anamazingangie]

Hello everyone, it’s almost slutty/spooky season! Which means Kinktober is almost here, too. 

Kinktober is a cross fandom event where artists and writers create content related to a prompt list of kinks, with one assigned to each day in October. There is no ‘official’ list, which, of course, meant I wanted to create my own. 

(Some days have multiple prompts since the general concepts or definitions are similar, which made me group them together. There is no expectation to follow all of them.)

As fun as that was to make, I think it’s unrealistic to expect anyone to write 30+ fics in a month. I know *I* can’t do it. So here are some other ways to play: 

1- Pick a doable number of prompts, either based on your own preferences or using a randomizer. 

2- Combine multiple prompts into a single fic, again either based on your own preferences or using a randomizer.

3- Try to write a fic for each week that includes all seven of each week's prompts. They are organized somewhat into ‘themes’ to make this easier. This example is for week one. 

4- Treat the prompts like a checklist—don’t worry about the order or number of fics you write, simply aim to check them all off by the end of the month. 

5- Give yourself a time limit for each prompt/day. Whatever you manage in that time is your contribution for that prompt/day.

The “rules” for this are as always, minimal. I think prompt lists are meant to motivate and putting limitations on that has the opposite effect.

As long as your fic centers around characters from the ASOIF world and was influenced by one of the prompts, please feel free to submit it to the Ao3 collection:

There is no word count, rating, or ship requirement. The collection will be open until the end of autumn [November 30th] and moderated thereafter. 

I’m not sure if I will be able to provide expanded prompts and visual info myself, since October is sort of a busy month for me, but I still wanted to make the collection and do what I could to encourage more kink within this pairing / fandom.

If you'd like to take part and hang out with some Daemyra obsessed folks who are also writing large quantities of (usually) kinky fanfic, feel free to message me for an invite to my discord :)

Below the cut is a text list for copy/paste purposes:

1. loss of virginity / first times

2. praise kink / talking during sex / dirty talk

3. orgasm control /denial / chastity / begging

4.overstimulation / multiple orgasms

5. pillow humping / dry humping / frottage / thigh riding

6. size kink / size queen / size difference 

7. darcyphilia / crying during sex / painful sex 

8. daddy kink / mommy kink / ageplay

9. impact play / spanking / belting / punishment

10. unprotected sex / cum play / creampie / come inflation

11. breeding kink / in heat / nymphomaniac / ABO

12. pregnancy kink / lactation kink 

13. body worship / breast worship / cock worship

14. sextape / porn / photography

15. outdoor sex / car sex / almost caught

16. exhibitionism / voyeurism /public sex

17. threesomes / moresomes / gangbang / cuckolding 

18. somnophilia 

19. blindfolds / toys

20. pet play / collars / roleplay 

21. anal sex / strapons / pegging

22. restrained / tied up / shibari / bondage

23. cockwarming

24. breathplay / choking

25. facesitting / face-fucking / deepthroating

26. rough sex / hair-pulling

27. marking / biting / bruises

28. bloodplay / knifeplay 

29. dubious consent / non-con / CNC

30. spitting / degradation / humiliation

31. piercings / branding / scarification

[taverntrout]

Home / Ask / Rules / Bio

[dragcnsdaughter]

                   ZALDRIZES BUZDARI IKSOS DAOR  

private   &&  selective DAENERYS TARGARYEN  from  hbos  GAME OF THRONES     loved   by   Megan .    she   /   her    ,   25   ,   straight   &&  irish .    contains   dark   ,   triggering ,  nsfw  themes .     established     ,   2021  .        

  READ   RULES   BEFORE   INTERACTING .

caard.

[problematicck]

BATTLE OF THE LIONS

The Dragon's ruled Westeros for many, many years. However, that all changed. After certain unexpected circumstances occurred, Lord Lannister took this opportunity into putting his long-planned strategies of getting into greater power in play, which caused one of Westeros' biggest rebellions yet. With most of the regions on his side, whether they liked it or not, they attacked King's Landing with everything they had against the Targaryen's and their dragons. After a grueling time of sieging and battle, Lord Lannister found himself sitting on the Iron Throne with the blood of the dragons slain along the stones below him.

Now, the kingdom is filled with debt, unrest and disease. King's Landing is destroyed, regions have no coin or troops from funding a war they didn't want to be involved with, an increase of crime has been noticed in all cities, and has left the people exposed with no homes and disease. With vulnerable times comes bigger plays at power. The question is -- can you play the game and survive?

- 18+ Only Server

- Literate Writers

- Writing Prompt Entry

- Many Openings in Great Houses

- LGBTQ+ Friendly

- No Spectators, Writers Only https://discord.gg/gt6uQhxu8K

[thewallcantstopme-blog]

╚ Mun has twelve years roleplay experience

╚ Muse is an OC for GOT/ASOIF with a free floating time line

╚ Mun and mun are over 18

╚ Para and prose style favored. Will do shorter threads is partner wants

╚ Not a fan of crossovers

╚ Always will to plot and do memes

Home // Ask // Rules // Bio // Opens Threads

[aelyxtarg]

First night together with her (she ruined you completely)

[ophelias-lamentation]

wonderful exchange from a rp gc on discord

gotta love stark family values

[playing-with-fate]

Our first episode of our newest campaign ‘A Song of Wandering Souls’ (a song of ice and fire ttrpg) is up on youtube now! This episode is the first of our 3 backstory episodes! In this we get to see a glimpse of life before the fall of Valyria, in glimpses of the lives of 3 of the 4 sisters our campaign will follow. 

Here we see the beginnings of their characterizations, choices, and paths before their worlds are turned upside down. 

Check the 1st link in our bio to get to our twitch channel where we will be streaming the second episode of this series Monday!  

[doephoenixknight]

She had not seen snow for the last few months, so when she had seen the white frozen masses scattered on the ground and some flakes settling in her hair, Leynia had bent down in her grey winter-styled dress, collected the powder into form a ball of sorts and then without warning, flung it at her father, who didn’t look impressed. Shireen, though, had laughed and then gathered her own snowball to throw back at her sister. 

Selyse had been nearly mute the whole time since leaving Dragonstone and the woman looked at her daughters, stating, “Young princesses do not behave such as you two.” Leynia turned to her mother, with a big grin on her face, “Who said I wanted to be a princess? I grew up as a Huntress, a fighter, and not someone who can sit there all day beside a man I probably won’t be able to stand being with.” She said, before throwing another ball at her sister. Melissandre watched before whispering something to Stannis, who Leynia had glared at the woman, allowing Shireen the chance to pelt her sister in the face with a snowball, which shocked Lea. 

They were a day or two outside of Castle Black, and with a rider coming towards them, the girls ceased their snowball fight, when she heard news, “Your Highness, Lord Commander Mormont had fallen.” 

 “It’s not true,” Stannis stated, looking at his eldest daughter before nodding, “Take a small group with you, help the Night’s Watch with whatever is needed. You will have Lady Leynia with you.” Leynia knew her sister was going to object, but she had bent down in front of her sister. “Don’t worry about me, I have been able to fend off wolves and bears before knowing I was a Baratheon.” 

 “But humans are-” Shireen started, but Leynia shook her head, blue eyes staring at the ones glazed with a bit of panic, “I can fend for myself, sister. When you and father ride in, I will be healthy as a horse.” She had sent word for Lady to be ready for her as she grabbed her sword, knowing it was more of an intimidation than a tool to fight with, her bow and a full quiver of arrows before she mounted up with ten other men and followed the scout to Castle Black, feeling a bit more dread in her soul, yet she didn’t know what the cause of it would be.

[thesleepwalker]

DYANNA DRUMM, BASTARD OF HOUSE DRUMM OF OLD WYK

"She was often told she was lucky that her lord father raised her, instead of throwing her out. But she never felt lucky and only her ravens knew that.."

(gifs not mine)