Vivarium of erotic plots and stories. M Seeking F

[Formless]

This is a constant WIP. But don't let that stop you from browsing me and contacting me if you see something you like.

Welcome & Salutations!

I'll make this short and sweet. Here you'll find ideas I am currently interested in.

Bear in mind, none of these ideas are written in stone, and we can change them up if we want while discussing them.

Here is my Ons & Offs page for more information about me.

You can find more links in my signature for my visuals thread which contain plenty of ideas, if your muse fancies them. I also write specific Fandoms, and this is my request thread for them. The list requires an update, but its a mix of video game fandoms and Marvel.

Currently, I'm looking for a focus on characters interactions & development, dialogues and exchanges. Lighthearted fun for the proper plot. You get the gist of it ... I think. ::)

Also, if you've got your own spin on these ideas, please share it! I'd love to know your thoughts about them!

Please send me a PM if you see something you like. Please do not respond in this thread.

With the intro taken care of, take a gander at the Vivarium!

Sensual Surrender

NSFW Visual Inspiration

A woman of power and wealth ... a creature of grace and elegance ...

Now strapped to a chair in a shameless pose, one befitting a harlot. But, he was the only one who could see her. He, who had her sit on that chair. He who bound her hands and legs. The very man who put the mirror before her, to let her see what his eyes marveled at.

Her tight expression, her gaze that took in the sight ... that visage did not hold a hint of contempt. She was never forced into this. She agreed to it. Just as she agreed to undress before him, for him alone. It was her whisper of affirmation that had him hold her hands and move them behind the chair.

How did it come to happen? He was an average man. A man lost within the spiral of social ranks. And yet he treated her like a woman. No less than a woman of immense wealth, no more than a woman meandering through life. Respect & admiration, Lust & hunger. He promised to show her a side of hers she wanted to neglect.

How did they happen to meet. How did they end up where they are?

Notes: A simple premise. The story will contain themes of BDSM, but the focus will be on the characters, rather than the acts of BDSM. I'm heavily interested in exploring the events that lead to this situation of trust and anticipation. Plenty of kinks can be included, but nothing outlandish.

Legacy Of A Tyrant

Second only to her father in a ruthless world, the day he passed away was the day she began a journey to claim what the Tyrant left behind. Her father ruled with an iron fist, but that wouldn't do now. She set out to make an example of a few who tried to trivialize her presence. Soon she became what her father once was. A heartless woman, capable of the unspeakable without a moment's consideration. This was her life, she was already set in her father's ways. In her world, no one was innocent. The mere doors that opened to this world of crime were already tainted ...

... Yet one man among her crew did not abide by the rules. He was a clever little schemer. Refusing all the blood money he could get out of a few jobs. Naturally she would have him shot in his bed, or on the lawn of his house. But the little twist he made was too intricate ... Something a street grunt wouldn't hatch so easily. So instead she had her pin-boys scout the guy. Turns out he was a good boy, caring for his father. A father who struggles on a bed in a hospital she was well acquainted with.

She was going to use his father as a tool of manipulation ...

It was the sort of thing she would do ...

It was the thing a Tyrant would do ...

It was then she realized how well the cut of her father's cloak fitted her ...

She had to wonder if there was ever a point of no return ... For the first time she felt a sense of trepidation wash over her ...

It’s always the quiet ones.

She was a scientist; socially awkward and perhaps even mousy... Her colleagues had finally managed to drag her along to a bar but they soon forgot about her and hooked up with others or left on their own. It wasn't a big surprise that she hadn't noticed her drink got spiked but luckily he saw it all:

An undercover cop...

He'd taken her with him and put her to bed after she got knocked out by something that was slipped into her drink. He'd been undercover; trying to find this bastard for months but never had he gotten as close as this. The girl may have seen 'who done it' because the moment he had stepped in, the man that tried taking her had fled the scene. He got nothing but a glance at the jet black hair and the back of a medium sized, every day kinda guy when he pulled at the hoodie covering his head. He was tripped and the lights had gone out the very second he went in for a pursuit. It made him wonder about how many people he was really after. In any case; after all that chivalry he was enjoying a smoke and a little bit of the view before he put a blanket over her. Tilting his head he wondered what kind of a girl he'd taken back from the rat-hole dive he'd been staking out. She didn't seem like the partying type and that was, what he suspected, exactly what had drawn in the perp.

NSFW Visuals

Eclipsed Domain

In the blink of an eye, the city fell into violent riots. He did not anticipate it. And his visit to the city was to maintain his own businesses. He was in the backseat of his limo, urging his chauffeur to escape this nightmare. He never liked the bustling city life. Living in a large estate outside the bounds of civilizations. However, without warning, as they turned a corner, a woman was pushed into the car's path. The tires screech to a quick halt, the fact the car was rounding up a corner helped with that. The two disembarked the car to check up on the woman. She was unconscious, and she did not seem badly wounded. Rather than try to see if she had any acquaintances nearby, he had her put inside the car, as they fled the scene, not so much for hitting the woman, as much as escaping the mob that pushed her to begin with.

When she came to, she would find herself on the softest bed she ever laid on. An unfamiliar scenery. At the first sound she made, a young man in his twenties walked into the room, dressed in a sharp suit. Courteous and direct, he informed her of what happened to her, pointing her to a change of clothes, and that she can meet the very man who brought her in. This is when she begins to notice the oddities of this place. The clothes prepared for her were ... a man's shirt and slacks, barely fitting her as they used the smallest size available. Outside her room, she would notice everyone working in this place, were men. Her curiosity lead her to inquire about this, and the young man informed her that ever since the owner's wife walked out on him, he never looked at another woman again, and replaced every female worker here with men.

Returning back to the city might take some time, given the riots were still raging on. How would she spend her time in this mansion?

First Glance of Summer

Summer. That's the name they used for her. A woman with no past, and perhaps no future. A complete Jane Doe. Since the day she was reeled into this facility, no one ever came asking about her. Odd how someone at this day and age can be such a recluse, it almost felt hyperbolic. According to to the medics who brought her, she was found unconscious in a park, by an elderly couple. No one in the are recognized her, or so the police reports suggests. A peculiar case that slowly became just another mundane task within the schedule of her care takers. Except for him ...

He was one of the nurses taking care of her. At first, he did what he had to do to keep her comfortable. But since he was a night owl, there wasn't much to do. Until one day he heard a soft groan vibrate from her chest. It was a weak sound that caught his attention. However, as he endorsed it to her doctor, he was met with a dismissive behavior. Apparently it was just something that happens. Never an indication of any improvement. Since then, he found himself talking to her ... simple idle talk. Sometimes he'd read up to her. At times he pours his frustrations about the meanderings of his life.

It continued, until the day she croaked a sound while he was tending to her. Her first raspy words were, "Don't you ever go home?" Turns out, she's been aware of him for quite sometime.

Tales in Fantasia

These are story ideas best suited in a fantasy world. These plots are not strictly for human characters. Humanoids of all sorts are welcome. Well ... there are a few exceptions, like Orcs and Minotaurs ...

A Noble Sword In A Tainted Sheath

The daughter of a nobleman. An elegant rose in a aristocratic garden. But this woman embodies the very saying that goes, "Every rose has its thorns." She always favored linen breeches over silk skirts, and she always trusted her companions with a sharp sword at her hip. A firebrand of a woman since her early years. However, she had a good head on her shoulders. It may have taken more discipline to show her the benefits of proper decorum, which she began to adhere to past her second decade.

But the perpetual political game of any court would always consume whoever frequent them. Her father, anticipating a treacherous betrayal, sent his beloved girl to the city at the edge of the kingdom. To her shock, a custodian was assigned for her. She was already 27, and her father still did not trust her to handle her own affairs. He still thought she would get herself into trouble. She was a prisoner where she did not belong. A pretty thing to be kept and polished. Until one day, she had a spat with the swordmaster of the castle. A decade her senior, his skills were impressive, but he had a sharp tongue that always got the better of her. Without knowing it, her purpose every day was to frequent his training halls, demanding a rematch. He was always more than ready to answer her challenge. Perhaps one day she can win ... or the duel takes a very different turn.

~~*~~*~~

Troublesome Delivery

Their kingdom was at war, and losing. They've taken some major losses, and a raid on their main camp cut down on the number of medics still able to patch and heal their solders' wounds. They rounded as many soldiers and healers to send to the front lines. There was one exceptional healer that could help them out immensely. The problem is, he was imprisoned for treason. They tried to reason with him, through the bars of his cell. And seeing the despair in their eyes, finally agreed. Alas, they will send him there cuffed and shackled. They did not trust him enough to send him by himself. His escort to the front lines was a hired mercenary. A barbarian warrior who had more scars on her body than the chain links that had him bound. She was paid handsomely, and only informed her that he would try anything to escape. None of his past was divulged, nor the reason for his current bound state. She did not seem interested herself. She already had half her pay. It seemed a simple enough task for her. Besides, she her own reasons to approach the front lines. What trouble could one shackled healer begets?

~~*~~*~~

Beyond Animosity & Kindness

They were outnumbered. Warriors of untold caliber defeated by the sheer numbers of their enemies. He managed to escape death's grim hand. But the wounds he suffered were nearly fatal. His mount gave away near a forest, a perfect place to hide his trail while he traversed deeper into the woods. But his fall was inevitable. The world faded, and the memories of his final battle were the last thing he remembered. His doom was upon him, or so he thought.

She was one of his enemies. A scout and a deadly assassin. She happened upon him, while he drew his weak breaths. His body would not give up, barely drawing enough air to keep his wound-riddle body alive. His mind keeping him asleep. He was at her mercy. She can kill him right now, a merciful death, and one less enemy to worry about. Or would she find he kindness in her heart to take him somewhere to heal his wound. Would she betray her dominion to help a helpless enemy? The morals of this choice laid heavy upon her as she gazed down upon him.

The Shameless Knight's Chronicles

Visuals Inspirations

Meet the Shameless Knight. A chivalrous man with an adaptable moral compass. But rather than shiny armors and fancy doublets. He prefers this only cloak to don over his strong physique. He travels the lands, as a sell sword, a bodyguard or just to sample all manners of flavors this world has to offer.

As you can see, this is a tongue-in-cheek humorous idea. Rich in smutty content, but I am after the banter and the ridiculous shenanigans we can make out of this.

Semi-Established plots

Under A Watchful Eye

Under A Watchful Eye

Once your reports start missing significant details, you're bound to screw up. Even if you keep up with the timely updates, and the thorough observations ... if you keep something out, you're done. It was one of those delicate situations where any form of contact could compromise the asset. Assuming there is contact to begin with? She's the next door neighbor. And he's the new bachelor on the street. Whose that with him? Why it's his best friend, and that friend is absolutely not in relation with the new family across the street. Now this is the cover up story. What about the truth?

The across the street family is a couple of veterans tasked to keep an eye on assets moved into this suburb town. Mr. Best friend is the point guard for any asset moved here. Miss Next Door is the extra eyes needed to watch over the entire operation. The asset? As young as he was, barely at the end of his twenties, was involved in the biggest cartel bust today. Consider him a crucial witness. The problem is, his life under the custody of these protectors will linger until they can build a solid case to put the cartel brothers behind bars for life. His testimony is only good to send one of the brothers behind bars, and not for long. So now he has to live the life of a protected witness. Too many restrictions, and a even more over the shoulder paranoia.

It didn't seem too bad. The asset looked comfortable enough after the first week in his new home. Hardly any visitors or outgoing calls. Mr. Best Friend says he spend his time between writing and watching TV. Its a bore fest, but he's not complaining. For a young man, he had a good head on his shoulders. They might even initiate some socializing activities if he proves trust worthy ... and if the circumstances allows it. That was the plan anyway.

Miss next door was in the simplest terms one can use, the hottest piece of ass anyone had seen. By the admission of every head she turns while she walk down the street, or when she's grocery shopping. She's friendly, but she wear an intimidating aura far too professionally to keep any interest in those eyes at bay. As much as she want to have a good time, she can't distract herself from her duty. Quite a noble sacrifice when you think about it, since this town didn't have much to offer. She wasn't missing out. The folks around here are sweet, but perhaps too tame for her tastes.

But things tend to change, in the most unexpected ways as well. It was the last couple of weeks of spring, early morning, the sun was barely peeking from above the slanted roofs of houses along the street. She was just getting ready for another day of overwatch duty. Out of the shower, wet and clean, and a soaked crown of hair that needed drying. As she tended to her hair, she did not bother with a towel around her body. She lived alone, and she was an early riser. She always had to wake up first, long before anyone else did. But today, just as she finished tending to her hair, she looked through her bedroom's window, and there he was. A mug of steaming coffee in hand, and under garments to conceal his modesty. He was looking right at her. Surprised, she looked back at him. It was written on his face, how he liked what he saw. But as much as she enjoyed the appreciation in his eyes, she finally brought her arm across her chest to cover her breasts. She just noticed that her heart was picking up a pace. Perhaps this was exciting, but went against the standards of the mission. He was sipping his coffee, standing in his kitchen and looking at her. A stare down that ended when she chose to concede and pull herself away from his vision.

There was no mention of what happened from Mr. best friend. Which means Mr. asset kept what he'd seen to himself. The next day, she took extra precautions to make certain she was waking up much earlier. And she did, yet somehow she was disappointed. Maybe she liked that little exhibitionist experience, or the look in his eyes, much different than she's used to around this town. The following days, their stare down happened much later during the day. One thing she knew about him, he liked his coffee. She always caught him through the window of his living room, the mug in hand, as he sat in front of the TV. And on daring occasion, he smiled and lifted his cup up. A friendly gesture? She was always looking at his house from the second floor bedroom. And this is when things took a turn for the worst for her.

She wasn't supposed to make any contact with the asset. She was supposed to see him when he didn't. Keeping an eye on him while he lived his contained solitary life. Upon realizing that, she tried her best to keep the glances one sided ... hers. But she also never mentioned any of these guilty-pleasure glances in her reports. Just as how Mr. asset kept them to himself as well. She cannot admit she compromised the dynamic. That would be a shameful spot in her record.

Summer already started, and it happened again. He was awake, in his kitchen, naked, and slurping his coffee. She got used to her waking hours that she did not notice him until it was too late. He made no gesture with his hand or mug. Just sipping and looking at her. And she stared back. She liked what she sees, and so did he. And it happened again, and again. Both of them looked forward to these early mornings. But none of them went beyond the indulgence of their eyes. And both of them kept it to themselves. That is until one day, late in the night she heard a little noise coming from her backdoor. Taking no chances, she picked up her pistol tucked in her night stand, and she went down to confront the unlucky soul who thought they could break into a helpless woman's house.

She had her gun trained at the door when she flicked the lights open, and the first thing she heard was the tense voice of Mr. asset, "Don't shoot!" He had his hands up. "This isn't what it looks like. But something's up. The guy you planted in my house ... He just got picked up by someone who works for the cartel. I know that guy, because he works with border patrol. And believe me, none of you knew that guy worked for them ... So please, put the gun down ..."

This was all too sudden. But how the hell did he knew she was part of his protection details?

Guarded Indulgence

Guarded Indulgence

You'll always see him there, at the corner of 21st boulevard. Playing his violin, with the dark amber case open for what little spare change his audience may share. The young man was quite talented, his music capturing the ear and minds of a growing crowd everyday.

Among his audience one day, was a shaded limo, parked right by the street's corner. The rear window slightly open. Someone was discreetly enjoying his music. But they weren't one of his regular audience. And the young violinist never took note of the car's presence. Not until the day the bulky driver, who could easily pass himself as a dangerous bodyguard, stepped out of the driver's door, and approached the violinist after he finished his last piece for the day. He handed him an invitation. A private performance in a private property. And the letter specified the handsome pay for his services. He was broke, hence his instant agreement. Upon his agreement, directions were given, and a date was set.

He imagined a grand mansion, something beyond his humble and simple imagination. And he was right. The gigantic mansion spotted from miles away, the fancy sculptures lining up the garden. Everything was probably tagged with a price ten times his worth. Feeling small and intimidated weighed down upon him, but his mind simplified it. He'll perform, and earn his pay and be on his way. It was a break for him. Instead of scrapes and dimes, he could earn a whole year's worth of a living. Bills and loans will shrink considerably. So when he showed up, in a rental suit, fitted for his lean frame, the look the housekeeper gave him was one of disdain for his kind. Like a fabled tale, it was written in bold colors, how the servant saw himself as the better man as he gazed at the humble musician.

With lesser words and dry greetings, the musician was escorted through the palace, to a dark room, lined as a small theater. One might hear about the wealthy's personal indulgence, but this was too specific. He was instructed to mount the stage, and play once the spotlight focused on his little being. When he entered this room, it was empty. With a few rows for seats, and barely any buffer between them and the mini stage standing at the far end of the room. When he took his place on the stage, the room was rid of light, and the faint sound of a door closing was heard. The unmistakable sound of heels was heard knocking through the looming darkness. He could hear it, until he was distracted by the blinding spotlight that focused on him.This was his cue to play. And he did. The same pieces he plays in his street act.

By the end of his number, the sound of heels was heard, growing further until it disappeared after the sound of the door closing. The lights came back, filling the room with brightness that had him squint. Whoever watched him did not leave a single trace of their being. No indication of who or what they were. Only that they watched his entire act, silently. Upon his departure from the palace, he was given an envelop with the same agreed pay, and he couldn't be anymore thrilled. He took it, thanked the arrogant butler, and found his way back to his humble abode.

And it happened again, after two weeks. The only difference this time, an advanced payment was given to him, with the instruction to properly dress himself. The money was enough to purchase any Tuxedo he wanted, but the instructions were strict to attend a specific tailor, as he'll be expected there. And he did, and as he was getting his first designer's suit, he had a taste of this alien life style. The take of the wealthy. The same happened then. The theater room, the unidentified watcher, and the silent sending. And the same grand pay.

The young musician expected another request for another performance will come his way, so he took to gambling, hoping to double his earning. Alas, it was all lost, and the street life he started to loathe was calling for him again. And the limo never came to his corner. Despair started to settle in, and the more days that passed, the more he craved the lavish envelops filled with money. Until the day when he decided to extend his own desire for a performance. Calling the driver who approached him the first time. He expressed his request, and was left hanging for two days. Upon receiving a call, a date was set, and the musician couldn't be any happier. But that was just the beginning ...

Before he entered the theater this time, the butler instructed him to mount the stage, and put the blindfold. That was the first of many unusual requests he'll hear within his visit. When he wore the blindfold, he heard the same knocks of heel approaching, and for the first time in his visits, he heard the voice, commanding, "Play ..." Except it wasn't the only command he'll hear ... nor will the rest of those commands pertain to his music.