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@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

ENERGY73%
introverted
MIND76%
observant
NATURE66%
feeling
TACTICS54%
prospecting
IDENTITY75%
assertive

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( there are little things about this encounter that kirma will think back on— is probably thinking on now, in the present of this timestamp— things that hint at the kind of life that aventurine might have had, long before this place. that curiosity is tucked away for now, too easily subsumed by the heat of the moment. aventurine's cock is good enough on its own, but the hand plying his tail is what really pulls a whine out of him, a spot already tender even before the conceit of this game.

of course the yapper is going to draw things out unreasonably, though. without actually having been transformed (yet?), he isn't quite so needy as to be demanding and desperate. this also doesn't mean he's entirely complacent— his back curves as he moves to lay his hand over the one on his tail, forcing aventurine's fingers to curl tighter around it, letting him feel the shiver of his body the pressure creates. )

I'll be yours— ( a dangerous line, the kind that makes him have to pause and exhale before continuing, ) only if you claim me well enough.

( of course, he doesn't doubt that he will. the sting at his calf holds too much promise, combined with the predatory bent of the man above him. that surety does little to grant him patience. )

( challenges are good - aventurine is certainly fond of them. but the unruly dance of feelings making a mess of his head rids him of reason, and this, too, will be something for future kirma to think back on, perhaps wonder if there has ever been anything to it: that in spite of a now smaller part of him still wishing to belittle and spat on a filthy dog, a much bigger part looks at him with unfiltered yearning.

it's all about the prospect of something. there's no certainty that kirma will turn into a bunny for him to feast on, perhaps not even a guarantee that aventurine will be the only one to have him - but it's a gamble, and doesn't aventurine just love those?

so be it, then. a challenge, a bet, a gamble, a game. his fingers are guided to curl further around his tail and do so obediently, and when he at last pulls on it, perhaps a tad unforgiving for the man aventurine actually is, underneath all of his masks and roles, it is alongside the first real thrust of his hips, and he allows the both of them the relief of an actual, thank-fucking-god not mid fuck.

more, though. this isn't enough. there's saliva pooling inside his mouth, threatening to drool and spill out. he leans forward, down closer to where the nook between neck and shoulder meet before he sinks his fangs down on skin, biting and marking and claiming him. would they be seen, later, when they're clothed again? the idea of it has him stiffen and throb inside of kirma in spite of his movements, and if not - again, a challenge and a gamble -, then isn't all that aventurine has to do is just mark him all over?

how is that, for a claim that would have lasting consequences, far beyond the mere game of fox and bunny? )

Edited (sorryyyyy typooo hehe) 2024-06-16 05:18 (UTC)

( maybe unforgiving is what he needs, right now, in this time before he learns the actual shape of the man fucking him, caught up in the frenzy of a predator's game. it's not as though a little harsh treatment is against his interests; clearly, from the way he keeps his throat bared while his breath catches under aventurine's teeth, it's not an unwelcome feeling at all. every bruise is a souvenir, enough to look at and wonder on later, to ache with the memory of months down the line.

the hand on aventurine's shifts to latch onto his wrist instead, not an attempt at removal but an anchor. his other hand finds its way into aventurine's hair, trying to pull him down, closer, desperate to be devoured— literally or figuratively, it doesn't matter. either one is welcomed with adoration, worship given in the form of soft, panting whines in tune with each bite. like this, one could almost forget he's the one due to earn a reward from the encounter. )

Aven— ( of course the first coherent thing he moans would be his name; what else would it be? some breathless plea, imploring him for more or harder— surely the way his nails dig into his arm communicate that enough on their own, or the way his hips shift despite the awkwardness of their unfortunate choice of bench, trying to find some, any angle to take him the slightest bit deeper.

makes you wonder why he ever thought to let kirma top the first time, honestly. )

( more, then. in every way: a more frantic pace of his hips, a firmer pull of his tail, and the neck, then, where aventurine chooses to bite next. there. there people will see, there it will be remembered, there it will be a souvenir and a mark and maybe a matching brand.

aventurine pulls away still, enough to admire the red marks of teeth and the alluring flowing of blood through broken skin. it's an unusual and unique look in his eyes - utter adoration, something like pride blooming in his chest. he returns to plant a gentle kiss on kirma's cheek, despite all, a satisfied purring in his voice. )

You're doing so well, my cute bunny. I can't wait for everyone else to know you're mine. ( this is what we call foreshadowing.

but for an aventurine who has long lost reason to the frenzied state of his unruly mind, so taken by thoughts of longing and lust and possessiveness, it makes perfect sense, this course of action. in his mind he will cover kirma in little gifts for him to show off, bite marks and loving kisses all over, seen and unseen.

weird, too, that there's a particular, exquisite warmth in his chest. something he has not felt in so many years. something he could almost mistake for genuine happiness, for being able to have someone to call his again, and mean it.

but this isn't quite the thread for that, is it? )

( why the tenderness, he’d ask, were it not the very thing that steals his breath away the most. the contrast between the soft lips at his cheek and the blood trickling down his neck from that same mouth makes his chest twist into a bundle of knots, tangled in a wanting that runs deeper than the superficial heat of the game. mine, he says, and the sigh that escapes kirma is one of delight. oh, if only it could truly be so, that aventurine’s sheer force of will could remake him into something better, more suiting for the intensity shining in his eyes, and— if only such a feeling would fade along with the game, once this week ends. still, it remains an intoxicating thought. being wanted, and… belonging. )

I’m not yours… yet.

( even that admission makes him dizzy, to acknowledge that eventuality. neither of them even know how deep that will run, the way the echoes of their silly little play (for that’s all it is, once they have clearer minds again) will resonate across the rest of their hours here.

that, too, is for another thread. in this one, kirma’s palm slides down to aventurine’s neck, unconsciously brushing along the edge of his brand. his eyes don’t stray from aventurine’s face, not even as he bites the corner of his mouth to hide a fleeting smile— or draw attention to it, perhaps. )

Rabbits are wily animals, after all. ( maybe some of that yapperism is infectious? maybe it’s too easy to follow aventurine’s lead. ) They’ll slip right out of your jaws if you aren’t careful—

( said like his breath isn’t hitching in time with his thrusts, clipping the end of his words, sounding dangerously close to moans. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose that gaze to the complacency that comes with victory before he’s done drowning in it. )

( yet. it's fine. this aventurine is patient enough to wait. the aventurine who's overcome with feelings of possessiveness, of want and longing. an aventurine who is so easily egged on by words, challenged, where the tail behind him wags in excitement. truly, this is a sort of happiness he hasn't felt in a long time - perhaps something akin to adrenaline, the appeal of the hunt, chasing and being chased.

the shift is awkward, due to their positions, but he tries nonetheless without fear of mistakes; holstered by the tail, his grip forces kirma on his knees, this time. maybe it's an easier position, for the narrow space they're in, but even then, aventurine cares little. a kiss is placed next to the base of his tail, closer to his ass, before he enters him again. )

That just means I will have to hold you close, doesn't it? ( funny how things are, right now, in reflection of the future. but what aventurine means is that his fingers will be tight, around such fluffy and cute tail. ) So you don't run away from me.

( or, better yet, if each of his thrusts are rough in nature, maybe he could fuck kirma stupid enough not to even attempt to slip out of his grasp. with wobbly and weak legs, unable to take a step, wouldn't that be nice? aren't all of those thoughts just a reflection of his actions, especially when aventurine bends over to take kirma's shoulder in his mouth, too, and leave there another bloody bite?

another mark to be remembered, one he laps at the blood, gently. it's a wicked sort of affection, but one that suits aventurine just fine. )

( it's fine to be manhandled— welcomed, maybe, with the lack of resistance given, only a breathy noise of something bordering on impatience. certainly, there's no effort to slip out of aventurine's grasp. there is a pause all the same, a held breath in response to words that brush dangerously close to a desire that exists outside of the acceptance of the house's conceit that they have allowed to form around themselves. of course, it isn't that; and of course, in this moment, kirma thinks: it probably won't ever be.

funny, indeed.

such a thing is a brief blip in the space of their game, a hitch easily mistaken for being out of pleasure or desire. kirma's hands curl around the edge of the bench for a supporting brace, back arching in his new position to better push aventurine's cock deeper inside him. there's a crazy thought there— something like, if this is supposed to be mating season, that maybe if he fucks him hard enough he can make that into reality, leave him drooling and full of cum and ready for the next generation, right here in the middle of the vale. that definitely, absolutely is the house's idea, and not his, not what he wants, probably, but— )

More— ( is about all he gets to say, before there's teeth sinking into his shoulder, losing the rest of his demands to a shuddering gasp. a hand comes up to grab a fistful of aventurine's hair, keeping him from pulling away; a tacit encouragement to keep going, to bite deeper, to stain the wood so thoroughly none will ever be able to deny the transformation that happened here. )

( and who's aventurine to deny such tempting request, overcome with his own instincts and desires as he is? there is a world out there where this is the path he has taken; one where he forgets the pain and misery he has lived through, embracing elation, welcoming the joys of life without a care in the world. it feels much like this, perhaps - accepting each one of his feelings, indulging in them, sinking down teeth into skin as requested, sucking on it, biting on marks left behind to add more marks on top of it.

it's a shame he can't sink teeth to every inch of kirma's body; though his imagination does him quite the favor in picturing how good he would have looked covered in bite marks, reddened and some dripping blood. underneath him, begging and wanting, with no room to run or escape, if the thought ever crossed his mind. in such unrealistic, wicked fantasy, maybe aventurine could babytrap him - wouldn't it be nice? to fuck kirma deep enough so many times he would have no choice but to give birth to the largest litter of golden puppies with avgin eyes the universe has seen—

lord.

allowing his imagination to run wild is enough to him, at least. the only warning kirma gets is a particularly sharp bite to his neck and the leverage pull of his tail, exerting little care as he pulls his ass further up so aventurine can spill deep inside of him. the ecstasy of it feels heavenly, almost, a particular feeling he so rarely feels. give enough time, and aventurine might even regret some of his actions here - but for now, out of breath as he is, he pulls back, pulls out, still holding onto kirma's tail but admiring the sight of him all the time. it's quite the masterpiece, if aventurine has ever seen one. )

Bunny or not, we should do this again. ( #BringTopAventurineBack ) You're cuter than I thought, too.

( there is a part of him that thinks— it really is a shame it didn't work. that aventurine is already pulling away and moving on, even as kirma can feel the way his eyes still burn into him without turning back to see. ah, that's not to say he's gone without his own satisfactions; rough handling and a deep thrust can do plenty on their own even without the added impress of game's haze, but it's a lonely thing, groaned against wood and dripping between the slats of the bench to the dirt below. a familiar notification chimes on his phone, and that truly spells the end of this little encounter, for all its ups and downs.

at least they've learned something about each other in this. little details, about trust and violence and— an unwillingness to move right now, his ears folded back and his tail still raised. there is some measure of optimism to be had in aventurine's words, though; that there is company and time to be shared there again, even if only in pretense for the dance of fifty-two.

#BringTopAventurineBack )

We'll see. What happens.

( said in a voice smaller and softer than normal, and there was never much voice to begin with, to reduce. it's here kirma twists back to look at him, the smug confidence of a fox that rolls off his presence, the way it makes him have to clamp down on the dizzy thought that he'd very much like to kiss him, stupid and full of puppies as he is.

well. that last part is a distant hope that (unfortunately) only continues to recede with each passing breath, but— )

... Don't leave me waiting forever. ( 🥺 )

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enough good times let's get back to the weird times

idk they were happier here at least .

i hope you freeze to death on that bus

i lived bitch

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