Decoration Concoctions

[Stone Cradle]

Please don't mind me- I'm just posting some of the art I made for thread decorations! I wanna make my threads look snazzy to wow any potential partners.

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[Stone Cradle]

Art by Standing Stones
Please don't direct me to your thread, I tried my best to make this one. (╯ ⁎⁍̴̛͂▿⁍̴̛͂⁎)╯
My O/O

1/ Open
2/ Open


➶ About me - My Rules - Turn ons - Turn offs - Pairing/Plots - Samples - Faceclaims ➴​

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Welcome, to my Boudoir.
You may call me Stone or Stones. ♡
Let's not waste time, so first things first, a little about me! What kind of partner am I?

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╰❥ I love OOC planning and gossiping. I'm the kind of person to make Pinterest boards, playlists and share songs that I think suit the theme. Match my energy and we will have a delicious time.
I require somebody who does more than the minimum of chatting OOC with me. Join me in kicking our feet and giggling like drunken fools. Otherwise, it's hard for me to feel invested.

╰❥ I write long detailed posts. However, I like to avoid flowery, overly saturated paragraphs filled with over the top words. Be patient with me while awaiting a response. The fact is, that I do write a lot when I am invested- so understand that it's a compliment and proof of my desire to write with you. If you aren't comfortable with that, then I don't think this will work.

╰❥ I play as female characters to male counterparts. Allow me to be blunt, they are hot, varying in height and ready to rock your shit. The tall ones will deliciously bully cute shorter guys to see what desperate reactions they get, the short ones will collar their bigger partner, have them barking like a dog and leave them in a puddle for shits and giggles. They are not submissive. They do not roll over.

Naturally, since we like switches, you can tie them up, tease them and get them panting. But you know what they say about bitches don't you?
They snap back twice as hard.

╰❥ I can double- in fact, I like to double and bring more side characters into the fray. It makes the world feel more real, more vibrant. I, however, do not intend for this to be used as me playing a male love interest to you. If you doubled as well that would be lovely, but know that you don't have to take on anything more than you are comfortable with. One of your characters is thirst-quenching enough- please swoon here.

╰❥ I will never write for your characters. I will not god-mode nor overwrite what you wrote. Most importantly, I will never lead the story for the both of us.
We are partners and should work together to have fun and create something worthwhile. Please do NOT give me a post where you character does nothing but get from point A to point B or stare at a wall 'mysteriously'. I don't care if they are shy. I don't care if they are scared.
If you give me nothing to work with, you will get nothing back.

That being said, if you want our characters to do something in particular that would require either you or I to, to a degree, take control of each-others' character- Let me know! I adore plotting and seeing things unfold.

╰❥ I adore dark twisted romances and sensual tension.
In real life, this would end with a restraining order. But here? Well what's the harm in indulging.

What I crave is that distorted, obsessed, masquerade of 'love' held by male stalkers/psychos/gas-lighters that drive them to do unspeakable things to get what, or who, they want. How they so masterfully use side characters as pawns, manipulate and then throw them under the bus when they are no longer of use in getting close to their quarry. And yet they appear like model citizens to all those who haven't had a glimpse beneath the veneer.

Even if the other one or two lead characters know the truth it may be hard to prove it, which makes the situation all the more madness inducing. Beautiful.

The sexual tension aspect is to say not outright crassness but rather an escalation, the expression of what they desire. From getting just a little too close to breathe the object of their affection in as they pass, to making deep unbroken eye contact as they lick ice cream from their fingers, to openly giving a peep show (whether it's wanted or not).

In essence: "I want you. And I want you to know that I want you."

╰❥ I know this isn't everybody's cup of tea, but I like pretty men. Pretty as a picture, disturbed as the devil himself and as whoreish as they come. That isn't to say I only look for twinks- I like big boys too. But I'm really not into guys whose facial features are too rugged. Sure they look interesting- but they don't rile me up. Pretty guys make me fall ... like a stone.
Oh don't look at me like that.

For examples of what I mean, please look at the Face-claims section of the thread.

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We love brats but don't break these, darling.​

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╰❥Naturally all the site rules are to be followed.

╰❥ Please check my O/O and the 'Turn On' section for a detailed description of what I am looking for in a partner's character. This is to ensure you understand my needs before contacting me so we might avoid both being disappointed.

╰❥ I'm do like smut but I need story to be the focus, the sensuality to be the goal and the smut to be the bonus.
If we jump to sex too fast, I'll get bored. C'mon give me some fore-foreplay. Gimme some yearning.

╰❥ Please don't try to convince me to play men romantically for your women. No.

╰❥ My characters are not doormats. Challenge them. Fight them. Attempt to dominate them. But never expect to get away with treating them like shit.

╰❥ Quality matters more than quantity, but please don't reply to my novella with two paragraphs. (Unless, of course, if it's a dialogue/smut heavy scene.) It'll break my little concrete heart. You wouldn't do that, would you? you monster

╰❥ I use real life or 3D face claims. As an artist myself, I respect your desire to draw your characters, all the more power to you. But, please, don't use them with me unless they they are well rendered.

╰❥ I reply usually within a day or two. If I'll be late I'll tell you, so please do the same for me. If I don't hear back from you through a reply nor in OOC chats for over two weeks, I will assume our RP is over and we will not have another.

╰❥ Character MUST be over 21 at all times. Periods during which they are younger will exclusively be in flashbacks.

╰❥ Do not confuse our characters romance for ours. This isn't a dating site. Any crassness or weirdness will be met with an immediate block. However, if you want to talk about your/my character's desires? What they would be thinking, craving? Their inner monologue? Now that's perfectly fine.
Don't take me for a fool though. Really. Don't.

 

[Stone Cradle]

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This is important. There have been some misunderstandings as to what I am after, partly in thanks to people not realizing that being a 'good boy' or a 'sub' is not black and white. There are shades of grey. A man can be confident, physically imposing, dangerous and still yearn to be his woman's good boy.
So allow me to try and make it clear here. Incoming word vomit.

Topping from Bottom / Service Tops


By now you know I like pretty men with 'Please let me taste you' eyes as they try to convince (or attempt to force) their obsessions to do terrible things to and with them. Their craving, their raw hunger- the tightening of their jaw, the shake in their breath as they barely contain themselves is so damn attractive.

They are welcome to pout/whine/have a bitch-fit/cause retaliative chaos like a mentally-unstable, spoiled child when denied. Go off. Let them be problematic brats all they want!
But they must NOT be a doormat. Being submissive isn't one dimensional. A person being submissive in the bedroom doesn't mean they won't attempt to take control when pushed to their limit, nor does it mean they are submissive outside of it. In fact, it's often the opposite. I do not want to see meek, spineless men in my role-play except when -and ONLY when- it's an act. A ruse to get the FL to drop their guard or to worm their way into the good graces of the authority figures.

• Topping from the bottom is a sub asserting control from their sub role.
Imagine a Male Lead pushing the Dom woman down and shoving her strap-on inside himself (if this is your thing), babbling incoherently about how they just wanted to be a good boy for her. Why wouldn't she just let them? One way or another, they will show her that they are the right choice. They'll make her want them, make her understand nobody can be as good for her as they would be. And gods, when she inevitably snaps and takes control, takes them, they in turn take it all. Greedily. And still want more.

Here is where we enter Service Top territory.
•A Service Top is usually somebody who tops in bed but takes pleasure in servicing the other person rather than fully dominating them. Yes, they want pleasure, but they also DESPERATELY want to please, to be used, to feel and give pleasure that their partner could never achieve alone. To make themselves as essential to the other person as the air they breathe. They won't take being ignored or denied lying down. They chase the Dom just as much if not more than the Dom chases them. The Dom has been purposefully ignoring her pet? Give her a taste of her own medicine and tie her up for a change. Make her watch. Make her wish she'd just admitted she needs them.
Just be ready for a punishment/retaliation after.


Yanderes

The idea is actually pretty simple: I think yanderes are damn adorable. (In fiction at least) Note, not the kind you might be used to where they are oh so evil men and the poor submissive girl eventually caves for their rugged ways with a little help from Sir Stockholm over there. Ignore him.

No, I'm talking about seemingly pathetic, love drunk guys who over the course of the role-play become more unhinged, desperate and possessive the more obsessed they are with the FL as they get to truly know her. This obsession needs to be more than skin deep though.

Biting, marking, hickeys, blindfolds, handcuffs, restraints, Dub-Con

Rough sex and/or making out (Throat fucking, tongue fucking, multiple forced orgasms, sexual exhaustion, hair pulling, spanking.)

Body Worship, Male leads with hand/feet fetishes (ect), Attempted Breeding by the ML( Creampies and such, but no actual pregnancy though)

FL Teasing the Male lead 'til he's in tears

Crossdressing, maid/bunny outfits( for the ML)

Somnophilia, Clothes theft, Panty sniffing

Pretty Male leads, Desperate man whores who act tough

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Anal (In regards to the FL, no issue with Pegging the ML)


Pregnancy


Anything in the toilet, stays there. Nope nope nope.


Vore


Age-play / Age-Regression


Fisting


Pain play


Full on Rape


Anything to do with Snuff or Incest


Men who are dead fish in the bedroom- NO.


Men who have no backbone.


Overly muscular (bodybuilder with veins popping)​

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I would play the side underlined.

╰❥ Pairings

Detroid Become Human

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- Connor x Human OC
- RK900 x Human OC

We could start off with my character be a new detective transfer either initially helping Connor/RK900 hunt down deviants only for them to slowly show, shall we say, unsettling signs of deviancy themselves towards their human counterpart. Down the line, she may begin to believe Androids truly feel and end up secretly working against the DPD or fully turning against them and her previous partner (who may or may not be fully deviant at that point in time). Partners to enemies, ooh-la-la.

or

My character, a reclusive inventor, has always been sympathetic to android rights and has been helping them escape, go under the radar and repairing those who have been abused. In doing so, she finds herself repeatedly pitted against Connor/RK900 as their confrontational meetings pile up- Eventually becoming a suspect and target herself.

Maybe an 'isekai' trope where the F.L falls into a game where they play the villainess?



╰❥ Plots

Inventor x Possessed Android
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He'd always been a bit of a creep.
She'd felt his eyes roam her body when he thought she wasn't aware. She'd grown to expect the way he'd lean in just a little too close when they were working on a shared screen, or how her used plastic cups would disappear from her bins.

It was an annoyance. A rather pathetic one at that, but M/C had come to accept that she could put up with his strangeness for the sake of their job. They were, after all, on the edge of a breakthrough.

They were overseeing a possible market for domestic partner AI androids.
It was a breakthrough project that could not only connect people from across the globe together in a VR platform, but connect meticulously crafted romance AIs to android bodies through wifi. Ever fell in love with an AI you could never touch? Well, now simply buy the newest prototype android, customise to your tastes, download the AI personality data and you'd be done.
Together they'd already built their first prototype android and so far things were progressing astoundingly quickly. PA-01 could be almost childlike in his curiosity and flimsy grasp of social rules. But he was programmed as such. Curiosity and innocence were his base traits. They had yet to attempt installing any adult content into his mainframe. It was to be their next and perhaps most important step.

If this succeeded, then all those miserable souls out there could truly live their most craved romance in either VR or the real world. No more dating and disappointment. No more lonely nights. No more heartbreak.
They were going to be rich.

Or they would have been if Y/C hadn't screwed it up.
This guy had as much regard to safety as he did to her personal boundaries.
On the day they were to install a new personality into PA-01, Y/C decided to forgo their safety protocole and hopped into their prototype machines for a routine AI personality set-up- when in the room alone. Unsupervised, he plugs himself in, connects his cortex chip to the VR server… and spills his coffee onto the wiring.

The result is instantaneous.
The breaker flips. The failsafe systems go down. And his nervous system gets fried to a bloody crisp.
M/C crashes through the doors only to be met with smoke and carnage. She desperately tries to save him but it's far too late. By the time the police have finished their inquiry and the coroner has pronounced the death a tragic accident, she's left all alone in their lab, choking on the smell of charred meat.

Despite all their past friction, this event marks her. In shock, she can't stand the idea of staying here, but neither can she stomach the thought of being alone.
And maybe she doesn't have to be.

PA-01 escaped damage, bar a short shutdown and reboot when the fail safes and firewalls crashed. He doesn't seem to understand what happened or why Y/C is missing. A heartbroken M/C takes him home, deciding to use the time the financial supporters have allocated for her to grieve as a chance to recoup.

At first, all seems well.
Except, very soon she begins to notice his eyes following her every movement, his body hovering just a little too close over hers when trying to help, and her clothes and toothbrush being moved from where she'd left them. A fear starts to creep in, is there such a thing as a ghost in a machine?

(In case it wasn't clear enough, the idea is that when the mainframe went down and the failsafes were incapacitated, the personality / consciousness of Y/C was severed from its body and forced into the only available vessel, PA-01.)

Detective x Ghost​

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When M/C joined the police force years ago, she thought she was going to make a difference. Make the world a better place. How sad then, that despite all her presumptions of taking up arms in the name of justice, the reality was that her police department had long ago been bought.

As one of the primary detectives, she wants nothing more than to get closure for victims and sanctions for perpetrators. Especially so since she's damn good at her job. However, recently she's been bumping heads with her superiors who have a specific list of untouchables. It makes her sick, their self-satisfied smirks as they walk away scot-free from their misdeeds.

It all comes to a head when she brings in the Chief's nephew for speeding, having narrowly missed her own bloody car while he was driving drunk. Instead of reprimanding him, Y/C is met with hell and high water. Not only does the prick get off without so much as a fine, but she gets put on both temporary leave and thin fucking ice.

Until then, she'd been living free of charge in the police dormitories, hoping to save up enough money to buy a reasonable home. With the current situation, and the lack of work, she can't stand to be there one more moment, facing the dismissive and disapproving glances from once respected colleagues.

That's how she ends up renting a mess of a once beautiful Victorian townhouse on the fringes of her borough.
One that, it so happens, Y/C is haunting.

As you might expect, their first meeting was chaotic, to say the least. Both are taken entirely aback- she by the sheer impossibility that he is here and he by the fact that she can see him. Hear him. Feel him. After a few turbulent days, the two settle into their newfound realities and come to an understanding.

By allowing him to bind himself to her, he is able to leave the premises and explore the world within her presence. A new lease of life, you might say. And by allowing him to essentially haunt her, he helps her solve crimes as an independent investigator by speaking to the souls of the victims.

The arrangement works well for a while, earning quite the ire from her old associates as the number of cold cases start to close at her hands. But just as the inflow of jobs starts to slow, something unusual starts to occur.

Murders. Brutal murders with no motive. No signs of entry and no signs of exit. In some cases, it seems the victims were cut by their own hand, yet their bloody prints show signs of attempted resistance. The drag marks of their nails in the wood floors and walls were that of a people fearing for their mortal souls.
Stranger yet, Y/C seems unable to commune with their spirits, leaving M/C dumbfounded and empty-handed.

If only she'd done a little more research, she might have thought twice about letting a dead serial killer attach himself to her.

Hacker x Millionaire​

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The man's a prick. No two ways about it.

Too rich and far too insolent for his own good, he lives separate from the common folk in a hilltop fucking mansion. Y/C indulges in only the finest, most salacious parties with the most distinguished of guests. His life is sheer excess and pride.

He doesn't bother to look down at the plight of others, to crane his perfect neck, ruin his perfect hair, except to leer down his nose at the IT techs his governess brings into his home for regular updates and maintenance. In public, he's mastered the art of the warm smile, the helping hand. But in the privacy of his home? Why should he spare them a second glance? Greedy, insincere rats.

Until M/C. As common-bred, yet distinct as they come. Most watch their tongues and tones around him, know to avoid his eyes- Know to make themselves unseen and unheard.. And yet, not only does she stand tall, imposing her presence upon him, but she looks at him with the contempt attributed to dog shit.

He's done his research, naturally, she comes from a meager background and lives in a dingy studio apartment. This job is the only thing keeping her afloat. She should be groveling at his feet, buttering him up- Seducing him. So why isn't she?

It thrills him. It nauseates him. It appetises him.

He finds himself leaving his office, purposefully looming over her, quietly watching from the corner of the rooms as she works. He wants her to know he's watching, he wants her to feel uneasy in his presence.

Perhaps that's why he let his guard down. Whilst doing a routine check-up, assuring his files are safe and clean of any interlopers, she happens to find some rather damning information on him.

It could be sexual, embezzlement, etc.

M/C takes him for everything he is worth. She moves into his mansion, kicks him out of his master bedroom, starts splashing the cash in his face just to rub it in. Biting his tongue, playing nice, is killing this man's pride. He can persevere through this, she'll get bored soon enough and move on. After all, what's a few hundred thousand lost here or there? He's got enough money to last multiple lifetimes. He can take this.

That is until she uses his money to pay for a gigolo.

His composure finally shatters, trapping her against the walls of his old bedroom, hungry and demanding to know who she thinks she is to use everything he has, except for him.

Bully x Victim turned Bully OR Bully x Victim's evil Twin
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He was always too soft.
Yet, she hadn't always tormented him. In fact, once upon a time, she'd tried to help him. They were both aiming for the same field of work. She'd tried to elevate him with her when she climbed the social circles upon their graduation years ago.

When he had publicly turned away from her and her offer, loudly proclaiming she wasn't who he once knew, that he'd never join a bunch of self-loathing narcissists, he inadvertently called upon her ire rather than her empathy. From that day on, she made his life a hell. Whether right or wrong, it mattered little, so long as she saw that sobbing hopeless face. Yet, at her call, he would always come crawling back like a dog.

Little did she know that the day would come when she'd go too far. When partaking in a sadistic game, claiming to be sorry for all she'd made him endure, dragging him into a closet and making out with him was revealed to be nothing more than a sick joke, he broke.
Years later, upon their meeting in their workplace, he's come back hellbent on breaking her.

So, a fairly typical scenario.
We could either keep this a normal bully x victim pairing, where the vindictive victim turns around, changes himself in a sad attempt to become her tormentor instead. (The poor fool.)
OR
We could turn this into a Bully x Seperate persona or even a fully different twin. The stronger of the personas/twins is who she meets after years away. Upon coming home he finds out what's happened and, incensed, decides to replace his brother. Being much stronger, in both mind and body, he has got a palate for revenge.
Whichever suits you best!

Teacher x Old student from their Past​

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She used to be a teacher.
And she was a damn good one too. Beloved by her students, always going the extra mile.
It was only natural for one of her students to fall for her. A young man, fed from a silver spoon his entire life, accustomed to always getting what he desired. When he confessed, she gently brushed him off, as any normal adult should. After all, she thought it was an innocent teenage crush, one which would fade with time, when the next new exciting thing came along. That's what teens did.

She used kind words to pacify him. He was young. He should look for love with somebody his own age. One day, when he got older, he would understand why this was not appropriate nor healthy. And by then, any woman would be lucky to have him. Besides, she had no time for love, since her heart was already full looking after him and all her other beloved students.

For a time, all was well. Until he spied her kissing another teacher after class. Feeling a sense of childish betrayal, and in his anger, he decided to make vile accusations against her. Accusations she couldn't refute. There we cameras in the classes- It was his word against hers.
Everything changed after that.

Naturally, she was not charged and nothing was ever proven. After all, she was innocent. Yet unsurprisingly, and much to her chagrin, just the mere accusation was enough to get her kicked out of her school, have her beau break things off and have her overall reputation ruined.

It took years to recover, both in emotion and reputation. And she never truly did.
Now after a decade and moving country to escape her past, she has worked her way up to be one of the best teachers in her field. Working for the elite, she now teaches them at an exclusive restored 'Maison de Maitre' in the countryside. It only takes the offspring of the one percent. They call it the "Slums". She calls it heaven.

However, some wounds could not be healed with time.
Frightened at the prospect of having to suffer such trials again, she went on to exclusively teach adult women after the incident. She cannot trust men- hasn't even been able to get into a relationship since. She is content. She has learned to be.

Yet he is not.
Back then, he was too stupid, too rash, he didn't realize that she would be sent away. All he wanted was to get back at her, to hurt her like he felt she hurt him. Perhaps born from a mixture of guilt and anger, his feelings have not been not so easily swayed. He swore to himself that he would find her, no matter what or how long it took. And now, as an adult man, having spent years tracking her down, the time to make good on that promise has come.

He was always pretty. She used to call him that. Displaying himself as a woman was easy. Buy a wig, learn to use makeup, get the clothes, bribe someone for some fake documents and tape… a few things here and there. The disguise was perfect.
A sentiment that is only reinvigorated when upon their 'first' meeting, she doesn't recognize him. His plan is to use the seclusion of the camp to get close to her, make her fall for this version of him so by the time she notices, it would be too late.
And, of course, ruin anyone who gets in his way.

Human survivor x Caretaker Android​

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The world didn't end with a bang.
Nobody knows what the final push was.
Overpopulation had already left resources stretched paper thin. Since the creation of androids, originally intended to take over the workforce, jobs disappeared from one day to the next. In doing so, the disparity between the wealthy and the poorest was so unfathomable, they may as well have been living in different worlds. In the slums, famines and crime spread like wildfire. In the 'Treetops', the elite spent their days feasting, fucking and doing all but look down.
The climate itself had come to a breaking point. In some places, perfect storms ravaging the lands, deserts turning to snows-scapes, leaving the unprepared civilians to die in the cold. Other lush counties had dried up into barren wastes, now uninhabitable now mans' lands.
Then came the sickness.
Initially, the symptoms seemed benign. No more than a common cold.
Then the tongue would become inflamed, making communication and breathing difficult. Next, albeit slowly, their eyes would swell and turn red until all sight was lost, culminating in an eventual sickening 'pop'. Last to go was the brain, naturally, as it would have been far too merciful any other way.
At first, people tried to fight back, to survive, holding onto what little hope they could. But people are only human and faith can only go so far. In the end, as the months dragged on and considering the alternative, letting go didn't seem so bad anymore.
And so, in the year 2067, the world went dark.
The world didn't end with a bang.
It succumbed like a child fighting a deep sigh, holding on until finally letting go and petering out.
Years after the event, living alone in the redwoods has provided just about enough for M/C to get by, all whilst hiding her from the dangers of nomadic survivors. Strangers are almost always dangerous or ill-intentioned, their tribes fighting for whatever scraps of the world are left. Cannibalism isn't unheard of either in the far reaches of the world. But by far, it is her being a woman which paints the grimmest target on her back.
Her only form of communication with one other human being out in the world is a radio by which they talk. Yet these talks are infrequent, impersonal, almost always short. When they feed her crumbs of them having a family, M/C sinks deeper into despair in her desire for companionship.
So one day when she stumbles across Y/C, a broken android out in the wild, she decides to take a risk for the first time. After all, these models were made specifically as companions, friends, playthings and lovers for the elite. She only wants a friend, so what could go wrong?
What she doesn't take into account is when the world went dark, so did the firewalls, virus protections and system updates…
And her new Android may not be entirely safe or fit for use anymore.

Millionaire x Fake Husband
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She needs a husband.
Not a real one mind you- an actor to keep her family off of her ass. See, they keep asking her at every single get together if she's found somebody, but she doesn't have the time. Nor does she particularly want to. Her last relationship was a fucking nightmare. Her fiance left her, shamed her, after he discovered her enjoyment in role-play, being restrained and domming her partner.
But the longer she goes without somebody, the more sons they try to push onto her. As a last ditch resort she finds a gigolo on the street, the ML. The ML has never had anybody offer to pay him this much.. For nothing. FL doesn't want sex from him, doesn't even require him to spent time with her- the only thing she needs him to do is live in her house for a month, do chores, to give the impression they are legit, and drop everything at a moments notice to come to dinner parties and pretend to be her lover. But what happens when the Gigolo goes wandering where he was told not to, discovers her playroom and decides maybe just playing the part isn't good enough anymore?

Makeup Artist/ Dance teacher x Brat Performer​

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FL has just started work at a BDSM club, doing makeup for performers and/or teaching them to pole dance. She's casual about it, never mixes business with pleasure and just sees this as any other job- except this one pays well. However, one of the most popular working Stripers there, the ML, has been making her work difficult- he acts like a little brat and won't listen to anything she says. One night, he gets into trouble when a client won't take no for an answer. FL practically breaks down the door and saves the little 'princess' who, after the ordeal, seems intent on making her make him her bitch.

FL is completely against this, rejecting his advances. But this guy really isn't taking no for an answer. He starts putting on provocative shows for her, railing himself with toys, making her be hands on with him when teaching him how to pole dance, scaring off her other dance customers, copping feels, licking down her fingers whenever she does his makeup... He does everything he can to insert himself into her life and so the chaos ensues.

Neighbour x R-Rated Streamer​

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He scares the shit outta her.

Twice her size, tall enough to dwarf her and with a glare that puts 'mean girls' to shame, her new next door neighbour has never tried to exchange pleasantries with her. In fact, he seems intent on having nothing to do with her ever since the night where she and her one night stand made a bit too much noise against their adjoining apartment wall. He'd thumped back so hard, the wall shook and her partner ran for the hills.
She'd never let him know how he gets to her, as a matter of pride, so they just keep glaring and ignoring each other for weeks.

That is until she fucks up. One evening she gets a knock on her door, gets given a package and opens it in the doorway out of curiosity. She hadn't ordered anything?
Inside is an arsenal of toys; Fem boy maid outfits, cat ears, buttplugs, collars, chains and more…

The neighbours door swings open abruptly, and out he comes, just in time to see her see that it was actually meant for him.
He's not having it as he drags both her and the package in after him.

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Click here for more Samples and Inspiration in the forms of Images, prompts and Playlists.​

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It was impressive, just how stupid people could be.


Impressive, if a little sickening.
The crowded room was bathed in lust, saturated by the neon red light strips which had been amateurishly, at best, stuck to the ceiling. Judging by the bits hanging down, she surmised they probably hadn't been stuck there more than half an hour before the first guest had arrived. Yet, despite this, they fulfilled their purpose as intended. Their unnatural colour blended light and shadow mercilessly, sensually sliding off beautiful bodies glistening with sweat and turning a once small, bland white room into what seemed an endless carnal tunnel. The sides were hardly visible to those standing in the centre light, drinking in its tint. As they all swayed they gave the impression of a single living mass moving in unison.

And there they were, as she'd expected.
Tucked into an innocuous corner, were slumped the forms of two outliers having slunk away. Off in their own little world, they were blissfully drunk on punch, made with distinctly cheap Bacardi, and high off the fumes of marijuana which clung to the ceilings, creating a layer of mist.
He was desperately sucking on her face like a drowning man breaching the surface. Drool dribbling down both their chins as they frenched. It looked like they were trying to get as much of their tongues as they could down each other's throats, their combined saliva promptly dripping onto the tacky red carpet. God knows what and how much had been spilled into it over numerous of these parties. Enough, at least, for it to stick to the bottom of her heels far too much for her liking. It reminded her of pulling off wet wallpaper with each squelching step.

The two lovebirds clung desperately to each other and what a sight it was to behold. The dark haired jock, Luther, was frenziedly grinding against her hips, awkwardly pushing at her crotch in all the wrong angles. One hand was lubberly trying to get into her shirt but couldn't quite figure out how, ending up just occasionally pawing at her. Amy on the other hand, oh she had run her hands through his hair, grabbing fistfulls for better grip. Well, except that his hair wasn't quite long enough and so kept slipping out of her grasp, resulting in the occasional jerk forwards. She swore they must have head-butted at least once. And dear god, was that him trying to make bedroom eyes at her? It looked more like he was having a hernia. Maybe he was. Especially since, clearly, nobody had taught these two to breathe through their noses when making out. Every few moments they had to stop and raggedly regain their breaths, before diving back in and doing it all over again like an obscene game of tongue whack-a-mole.

It was ugly. It was pathetic. It. Was. Perfect.

One leg crossed over the other, a hard feat in her tight little black dress she might add, she was getting the full viewer experience from the darker side of the room. The red light painted shadows across her face, only just enough to notice the corner of full lips upturned, an eyebrow raised, both in amusement and revulsion.
The two love-drunk morons probably thought that their corner was dark enough to hide them from prying eyes. To their credit, if you were standing in the centre, or were drunk enough, it might have been. Too bad for them, she was neither. And sure, the music was loud enough to cover whatever noises they were making- something she was all too grateful for. A woman could only take so much second hand embarrassment. However, judging by the contorted shapes they made with their mouths, typical of exaggerated moans ripped right out of a bad 90s porno, the lack of audio was not doing them any favours.

Tenderly slipping her phone in between her breasts, video snapped and saved, Miromesnil couldn't help but simper salaciously, her dark red eyes burning into them like the predator she currently was. This was just what she needed.

Poor Eric Schumer was the school's golden boy. Excellent grades, on the football team, apparently slept with numerous cheerleaders- But still oh so sensitive a soul. At least sensitive enough, she hoped, that he probably wouldn't take well to his girlfriend Amy making out with another man. Especially, goodness, so boldly! His daddy was rich beyond her wildest dreams. Fuck buying the island beach house, he was rich enough to buy the damn island. And Amy, smart woman, save for fucking it all up with this dumbass stunt, had her eyes on the prize.
Miro could admire that, she could respect a driven woman. So it really was such a shame that she'd stepped on her toes.

You see, Amy had never really liked Miro.
Call it jealousy, feeling like her spot as main bitch was in question or pure and simple superiority complex- It really didn't matter. She didn't want this newcomer here and had made it plain as day from the get go. Truth be told, she had an almost Aryan view of who should be accepted into their click. Rich daddy, a pair of baby blues, perfect skin or at least a mop of blond hair? Why welcome home, child! And Miro?
Well she just didn't fit anywhere into that equation.

She unashamedly towered over most of the guys in uni- in fact she couldn't get enough of it. Most of them had never felt small before. Nor had they been on the receiving end of some tender bullying. This, she, was new territory and if there was one thing Miro knew about men, it was that nothing gets their dicks hard like something new and vaguely threatening. Watching them slowly go from being cocky little shits to whimpering as she'd run her hand down their necks (claiming to be innocently pulling something out of their hair) made her blood hot in her veins. Theirs too, she'd reckoned. Not that they could expect anything more, she wasn't running a charity.

Miro knew she'd earned a reputation: Reserved, hot and untouchable. She also knew that had it not been for her looks, it might not have been a good one. Bloody red hair, snaked across her shoulders, getting caught between generous breasts, down an hourglass figure to settle right above an ass which would put an over-ripe peach to shame. Add that to thick thighs and long legs, only made longer by her trademark heels, and you had yourself a fucking Amazon. And coincidentally nobody had gotten to fuck her.
It was part of the juvenile mindset she supposed- every guy hoping to be the first.
But even then, no matter what, good looks couldn't win you the game. You had to be smart, play your cards right and only take shit from others as long as it took to get your teeth at their throat.

In fact, she'd only been noticed by the elite when one of the less attractive girls had thought it a good idea to mock her financial circumstances. How cute. And incredibly stupid. She'd gone surprisingly quiet when she received an anonymous video of Miro making out with her boyfriend in the closet; his eyes covered, wrists cuffed and a dick hard enough to break rock. Poor boy, his girlfriend must've been neglecting him, if his wild spasming and aching for more were anything to go by.

…
Y/C really hadn't liked that. He'd claimed it was too far and in poor taste. That the girl had become a total social recluse as a result. They'd argued about it for days. It was one of the first bad spats they'd ever really had. Miro still couldn't forget how shocked she'd been. Looking back there was so much she could have said but in the moment? She'd barely been able to form a retort in the moment. Had he forgotten what that bitch had said about her?

The edge of her lip curled into a disgusted snarl, tongue caught between her pearly teeth at the thought. It had only gone downward from there on out. He always was so damn good.
Good doesn't get you anywhere, a small voice hissed internally, Good has you winding up like HER.


"Miro?"

She vaguely wondered what he would think of her now, seeing her dip her perfectly manicured hands into another relationship for power. Would he still look at her as he did last time? Watery eyes filled with… what was that? Pity? Disgust?


"Miro??"

Not that it fucking matters. Or that I care.
She knew that was bullshit. Anybody who saw her absentmindedly biting her lower lips could have told you so. And the thought damn near ate her up inside. So, instead, she turned to the easier target for her anger, eyes gleaming with vindictive excitement.
And what of dearest Amy? What would she give to ensure her silence? And just how far could push-

"Miro?!!"


Miromesnil felt her stomach drop. She'd jumped hard enough from her perch that her phone had popped right out of her bra. Sucking in a sharp breath, she instinctively dove over the side of the love seat desperately reaching for her ever escaping ticket to unquestioned dominance. Only for it to be deftly caught in a pair of hands sporting far too many rings. And for her to land body over the seat edge, hands sinking right into the red carpet with a stomach churning 'slop'. Fia.

"They hell. Were you even listening to me?" Ophelia Sanjay stood there, looking down at her through her Gucci glasses, one hand loosely on her hip, the other clutching Miro's golden ticket. And oh boy did Miro thank her lucky stars for it. If anybody were to get their hands on it, she was glad for it to be Fia.

Being the daughter of a high end Lawyer who'd immigrated decades earlier you'd have thought Fia would have been one of the nastiest and most entrenched members of the elite. And you'd be dead wrong.
Short, dark skinned, clothed in only the best brands and with an afro so perfectly cut into a circle you'd think it had been photoshopped on, you might have been led to think Ophelia had been plucked out of a modelling catalogue. She certainly always presented as such. Her signature? Round tinted Gucci glasses and an eclectic bunch of rings that littered her fingers as much as space would allow. It suited her larger than life personality to a T.

As it turned out, Fia was one of the good ones.
Miro still remembered how she'd taken her under her wing when she'd first been initiated into the elite. Neither truly felt they fit in, accepted enough to wanna fuck, but not enough to be brought in from the fringes. It had been a nice surprise to find somebody she could relate to, and didn't mind her strong personality. Although she recalled Artemis hadn't shown quite as much excitement at the prospect.


"I- Sorry?" Miro Sputtered, straightening herself back onto the chair and pulling her hands off of the carpet which did, in fact, feel just as disgusting as she'd dreaded.

"Wow, thanks, Chuffed Fia , grinning deviously before unceremoniously shoving the phone back into Miros's red lace bra, Good to know that my brother's wife's affair isn't juicy enough for you."

"Oh calm my- your tits Fia, you know it's not like that." breathed Miro, " I've- I've just been distracted lately. Besides, just how many side chicks does HE have again?"

Fia looked like she was about smack Miro on the shoulders, when she got a strange look on her face,
"That is not the- Oh Em Gee. You are NOT still on THAT are you??"

"What? That your brother fucks like a rabbit in spring?" She mused, spitting in her hands and rubbing whatever evil concoction had gotten on them into the cushion of the loveseat, "I told you ten times already, I didn't mean to walk in on him and her- totally deserves eye bleach by the way. If I could go back in time I-"

"Okay first, ew. That's my brother." Interjected Fia, making a gagging motion to further cement her point, "And second, I meant that ladyboy of yours! I thought you said you were taking a break from that shit?"


Bullseye.
"What?! No- No I was- I AM! Why do you think I even came to this party?"
If Fia even partially believed her pathetic attempt at a cover up, she sure was good at hiding it. Instead, she plopped herself down next to her tall co-conspirator, making sure to avoid the side now covered in spit, leaned back and shot a furtive look at the couple in the corner, "Uh-Hun. Sure."

"Shut up bitch."

"Yeah, I love ya too Miro. Seriously though, that boy needs a kick in the teeth. Don't know why you bother so much. He's a downer, a good two shoes- smells kinda funky too. And with a fancy like that, no wonder people call him mis-"

"Don't." warned Miro.

"Fine." Fia withdrew, waving her hands in the air in mock surrender, "Fine- But you know I'm right. This level of worrying isn't healthy."


Miromesnil sighed, far too dramatically to be taken seriously as she slid down the back of her seat and sunk her lovely derriere into the cushion beneath. Fia thought she looked like a sulking child for a moment.
Miro knew Fia was right, but damn she hated admitting it. She'd come here to get her mind off of everything- Well that and to break Amy. But mostly the former! And it hadn't worked for shit. The music wasn't to her taste, Fia had to scream just to be heard over it, she swore she might lose her hearing, the alcohol was cheap and tasted like it- and everybody was just so… fucking boring. Same jokes, same parties, same drama. It was groundhog day all over. But these people, even if they seemed to have decided to squander their brains and bodies away, they could open doors. She just had to hang on a few more months- just until after graduation to help her get a job. Then she was out.



"Listen, you're not the one who had to spend a 'romantic evening' at damn HOOTERS with fish breath over there." She jagged her thumbs towards an especially well built young man currently crushing a beer can against his forehead, "And it was all for nothing!"

For months she'd been trying to convince Y/C to drop his pride and just try to get along with these folks. Months! Not because she'd expected he'd like them but because he was in no position to refuse even an ounce of help. Except he did. Every. Stinking. Time.

Miro had come to the conclusion that if he maybe, just maybe, talked to one of them and it went well, he might change his mind. And so she got to work pulling strings. She had to get him accepted by one of the most elite of the… well elite. Somebody nobody would question. And Rudy Callahan was just that. Dumb as a pile of rocks and just as physically thick. It had been common knowledge he'd had a thing for Miro for years by that point. She'd never given him the time of day, of course, he was anything but her type. And he smelled of fish. Miro hated seafood.

However, on the promise to go out with him for a date, she managed to persuade him to attempt to befriend Y/C. Fucks' sake, she even coached the guy! She'd spent far more hours than she'd ever intended to just teaching him all about World of Warcraft. From the classes, the backstory, the factions all the way to Y/C's favourite books! And this guy was thick. Did he have any idea how long that took? But, at least, she was sure that it would work!

That was until Y/C apparently took one look at Rudy and turned right back around.

"You know Rude only did that to get in your pants, right?" Fia chirped.

"Thanks Fia." Grumbled Miro, covering her face with her hands, "The most fucked up thing though? He didn't just screw himself over- His little stunt screwed ME over."

It was true. It hadn't just earned him the ire of those who had already looked down on him, it had reflected badly on Miro who had been trying to convince them he was an asset to have. She'd been on thin ice since, and Amy had been trying to find anything to go in for the kill. At least that was one issue solved.

"Yeaaaah. Plus I've heard Rudy over there has been angling to take you for a ride of his massive d-"

"THANK. YOU. FIA."

This was hopeless. She'd gotten what she'd came for and there was no point in tormenting herself further. Ever more so since with a glance to her left it looked like Luther had finally discovered how to unzip the back of Amys' dress.

"Aaaand I'm out." Miro huffed, jumping up so fast that Fia thought her phone would make a leap for freedom once again, "I'll see you at uni tomorrow. Anymore of this and my vagina might actually just shrivel up and die."

But Fia wasn't looking at her anymore. As a matter of fact, she'd gone a good shade paler, eyes almost as round as her glasses looking at something behind her.
"Holy- Holy shit." She stammered "Uh red, I think you might wanna put a rain check on that!"

Miro furrowed her brows somewhere between confusion and genuine worry. Nothing surprised Fia, so what the hell could be going on to get this reaction? Hand on her hips, she turned to get a look for herself.

"Why the hell would I want to stay any..." She trailed off as a distinctive flash of coloured hair only a few meters away caught her eye.

"Mother Fu-"

 

[Stone Cradle]

╰❥ My Favourite Female Face-Claims. Don't salivate on my new flooring!!



↠ Miro

♡

↠ Morrigan

♡

↠ Aern

♡

↠ Luto

♡

↠ Santevis

♡

↠ Shuro

♡

↠ Figaro

♡

╰❥ Male Face-Claims I'd be thrilled if you used, in no particular order.


Ⅰ ↠ An actor called Bryan Dechart- Look him up. Man's prettier than I am!

♡

Ⅱ ↠ Steal his sweetroll. I dare you.

♡

Ⅲ ↠ Miguel O'hara the brooding wonder! (from Into the Spiderverse)

♡

Ⅳ ↠ Thick men representation, whoop!

♡

V ↠ We also show love to strong noses.

♡

VI ↠ You can't tell me he wouldn't break into your house just for giggles

♡

VII ↠ Big men with big Dogs. Yes. But big men with small dogs? Hell yes.

♡

VIII↠ Yes, that is Viktor from Arcane. Man's got a chokehold on me.

♡

​

 

[Stone Cradle]

Time to make a post for potential Role-play Post decorations.
There's no rest for the wicked and I would steal candy from a baby, let's go. ♡


❝Her body whirled around.
She was upon him in seconds.

“And what, exactly, would you know of how I feel?”

It wasn’t a question, no invitation. This was venomous.
“I am so sick of people like you telling me how I should see you. I’m not like you. I- ” she spat, nails digging into the collar of his shirt, “ I don’t need to be told what to think.”

“You fat, stupid pig.” she snapped, every word dripping with revulsion, faces so close she could practically smell the sweat dripping down his chin, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?!”

Wood splintered, groaning from the pressure as the stubby man found himself thrown out of his seat. He landed amongst flinders, skidding across the marble flooring, palms outstretched in a poor attempt to shield himself from the brunt of the fall. She stood over his shaking frame, shoulders heaving, knuckles white as bone.

“You’re pathetic, god-damn pathetic.” ❞