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[conspecifics]

@dogboy*

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open season.

OPEN SEASON

@dogboy
24 / m / straight / 2♠️*

About Photos Questions Personality Compatibility

Details

My Self-Summary

His name is Kirma and he’s illiterate. I’m helping him fill this out, but honestly speaking, it’s a complete waste. Besides that, don’t you think his rank is unfairly high? Even though it’s still in the single digits, it’s not as if he wouldn’t be at home in the basement levels. If someone could send my complaints along to the house, I’d appreciate it.

My Future Plans

Surviving?

My Talents

Chasing sticks. Eating absurd quantities of garbage. Fouling up perfectly nice beds. Trampling flowers.

Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food

Meat.

My Ideal Partner

Someone skilled at training dogs.

Height 169cm / ~5’7 Body Type fine Smokes apparently Drinks i think so Drugs maybe Sign ? Education laughable Occupation unemployed Income unpaid Children none? Pets he is one Hobbies cooking

art credit: one. two. three. four. five.

01. WINE OR BEER

BEER

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES

“WHAT'S A MIME”

.03 SHOWER OR BATH

NEITHER

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS

PIRATES? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THESE

.05 TITS OR ASS

.06 COFFEE OR TEA

.07 SPICY OR SWEET

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER

.09 LEATHER OR LACE

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX

Personality Type
ISFP-A

ENERGY

73%

introverted

MIND

76%

observant

NATURE

66%

feeling

TACTICS

54%

prospecting

IDENTITY

75%

assertive

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

Comments

[conspecifics]

( whatever feels he might have about the finality of the severance are overridden by their bodies clashing; all his groans of agony are directed into and swallowed up by esi’s mouth, and there’s hardly a point in keeping his eyes open when he can barely see anything through the stinging tears brought forth by the pain. he’s dimly aware of esi’s attempts to stimulate him, and it’s not an effort totally gone to waste, even if part of him thinks: right now?

but there’s a bigger, more worrying part of him that thinks: it’s nice, though. there’s an intimacy, it seems, to having your hand sawed off. his tongue seeks out esi’s, and his hips lift to meet the pressure coming down on them, and while the force of his hand over the stump of his wrist is likely enough to leave bruises, in contrast to the rest of the wound feels like, it may as well be a lover’s gentle caress.

his free hand— only hand— rakes through esi’s hair, clinging, as if he might suddenly change his mind and pull away. it wouldn’t— it wouldn’t be the first time, he realizes, and that’s where the fear comes from. leaving him to die, or worse— )

Don’t go, ( slips out in a whisper, somewhere in the frenzy of their kissing. the plea of a cut far deeper than anything esi could manage with a knife. you can do anything you want to me— as long as you don’t go. )

[loosestrifes]

( There are flashes of his own memories in the intensity of this moment, though he doesn't recognize them as such. Blood, the warmth of it over his own skin, the look in Kirma's eyes— they're all flashes, sprouting quickly between the rush of adrenaline and arousal pushing him forward now. Each kiss, more passionate and yet more one-sided than the last due to Kirma's growing exhaustion, seems to bring its own flash of feeling. Feelings he doesn't fully recognize.

Feelings that feel layered over themselves, again and again, always stabbing directly through his own heart. The heart-shaped mark on his shoulder aches with it, this time, but he doesn't even register. Right now, he's busy with frenzied kisses at Kirma's lips, open mouthed and littered with heavy gasps. It seems like only moments before his hand, slick with blood, is not just stroking at Kirma's arousal, but his own. He presses their cocks together, sloppy, slipping strokes bringing him closer and closer to a peak. )

Kirma.

( He doesn't usually speak anyone's name like that, but it feels right to have it slip out like that. Half a whisper, half a groan, he drags his tongue along the corner of Kirma's mouth where some blood has splattered. He's not leaving. Not here, not now. )

[conspecifics]

( more than any friction or stimulation, the sound of his name makes him shudder, grasping tighter, his consciousness only sustained by those two syllables from esi's mouth. he wishes— well, most honestly, he wishes that he still had both hands, to be able to draw him close; but then, they wouldn't have ended up here, would they?

he makes himself content with what he has, hips weakly lifting a moment to answer esi's hand before falling back— it's just not sustainable, with the state he's in. he's given up on any sensation he cannot directly feel, blindly turning to follow esi's mouth as he moves.

kirma's breaths start to draw shallow, and not from any impending climax; blood pools on the sheets, drips and soaks into the carpet, stains what clothes they still have on. dimly, he thinks, he should apologize to the housekeeping staff the next time he sees them. if there's a next time— and if he does here instead, then— when his mouth moves again, no sound escapes it. )

[loosestrifes]

( When Esikko comes, it's alone. Still, he strokes Kirma a few more times, a selfish and largely aimless action as he rides his own peak out, gasping softly against Kirma's mouth. For just a few moments, he enjoys the stillness in the air after that, the sluggishness of Kirma's body beneath him, the warmth of pooling blood.

But then he exhales smoothly, pulling himself back with a little more urgency. Still, he imagines if Kirma were more aware he'd be a bit alarmed by the pace he's taking. He's moving quicker, but he's not panicked, pulling his baji up more properly, straightening his clothes to be presentable. He even reaches over to help Kirma with his, as much as needed, before ducking down to pick the discarded hand up from the floor.

Coming back up from that, he leans to kiss Kirma once more, his words pressed against cold lips. )

Stay awake. We're going to the clinic.

( Finally. At the very least, it seems that Esikko isn't prepared to leave Kirma to die here. When he stands, feeling as refreshed as ever, he even shifts to take Kirma's arm around him, to help him up. He has to do it around his own waist, rather than his shoulders, though— he doesn't have the strength to carry this man, even as short as he is. Even missing one hand. )

Lean into me.

( This is the gentlest he will ever be. And Kirma can enjoy it for the length of the clinic visit, as he brings him there, sets his dismembered hand on the counter, and requests a fix. )

[conspecifics]

( THE THINGS WE DO FOR MEDIOCRE DICK FROM A WHITE TWINK )

[loosestrifes]

( WHO ARE YOU CALLING MID MR WASTED BIG COCK )