【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our parking garage for all new arrivals. We aim to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience!
All are invited to There Is No Tomorrow, a Phoenix Casino soiree to celebrate our beloved guests. The festivities will begin at 1800 hours on January 20th and end at 1800 hours on January 27th. Please look forward to 168 hours of delight.
In an effort to raise happiness and encourage better guest relationships, attendance is required. The house will assist guests that are too shy to appear of their own accord. Please note that black tie attire is mandatory. As always, we hope you enjoy your stay! 】
PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
All clocks indicating day hours and night hours have been removed from the casino. Once a guest has entered, their Watch will jam, making it impossible to keep track of the time. You don't need to worry about that tonight.
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's January event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header. This month we also have an ongoing ATP / EMP where players can connect. Please feel free to utilize this for all of your peafowl needs!
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
[ A full, legal adult in every definition of the word, of course... But not an adult in the sense that he's settled into that identity yet, if his arguing is anything to judge by. Still, Midnight laughs again, scooping up the dice and giving them a roll. He's not one to judge. Everyone was young and self-conscious once, himself included. ]
Mm... Well, let's try that, shall we? The next time I'm quite unsure of how comfortable you are, I'll simply ask... Ah, a perfect example.
[ Midnight looks at the dice, then rises from his seat, strides over, and leans directly into his new friend's space. His eyes settle half-lidded, dark and pleased, and he grins amicably. His teeth are remarkably pointed. ]
Would you be comfortable with me fingering your arse?
[ 2, 4. Well, Midnight's not one to argue with fate! ]
[ Oh, he hates this. He hates this very much. That patronizing tone of voice had been grating enough, but it's nothing compared to the final roll of the dice. Fuuta doesn't have the mental wherewithal to register those pointed teeth, or even whether he's willing to go along with an act like that in such a public setting.
His brain's entirely filled with thoughts of whether it would be worse to prove the guy right by refusing to back off, or if it would be worse to do as the guy says and balk because he doesn't really want to do that.
Fuuta's expression is scrunched up as he hesitates, his cheeks flushed, and there's a significant pause before he finally barks out a (slightly forced) laugh. ]
-- n-not like I care? [ Oh he cares so much. His face grows even redder as the nearby staff titter in excitement, and he tries to ignore it, instead leaning forward and bracing an elbow against the tabletop so he can shoot Midnight a challenging stare. ] But are you really okay with doing something like that? You didn't even want me to take my shirt off. Don't go pushing yourself if you're not comfortable with it, old man.
[ He has no idea if this guy actually is old, of course. But he'll say whatever it takes to get a rise out of the guy at this point, and hopefully get him to back off first. ]
[ Midnight's head tilts. Now, is his new acquaintance just playacting at hesitance, or is he sincerely upset by the situation at hand? He never volunteered to play, but didn't take the outs Midnight gave him, so he doesn't want to leave... Midnight is very good at basic interpretations of body language, but once it comes to people who are more reserved about their feelings, more unwilling to speak honestly, Midnight has much less to work with than most. He lacks empathy, it's just how his mind works.
What is clear is that this young man is quite competitive. If he really wants to play, then...
Midnight will bend easily, wrap his arms around his opponent, then pick him up. His opponent can resist, but will quickly realize that Midnight is much, much stronger than an average human being. The kind of strength that would make lifting a car over one's head look like one's regular arm day. He will then clear some space on the table and lay his opponent down on his back.
Midnight removes a black leather glove, places it on the table, then takes a tube of lubricant out of his pocket. ]
I'm quite comfortable with removing your clothes for you, darling, but if you'd kindly pull down your trousers and underwear yourself, that would do much to prove your point.
[ Midnight's eyes light up, the tube open in his hands. ]
Unless you'd want me to undress you? I do enjoy that.
[ What his new acquaintance said has no relevance with Midnight, so while he did hear those challenges, he simply chose to disregard them. He doesn't like making others uncomfortable while playing games, sure. He does, however, love playing games. ]
[ Why the fuck do people here keep picking him up. Does nobody here have a normal sense of personal space and boundaries. And while Fuuta usually has a smart comment or two to make whenever someone decides to just pick him up like a bag of groceries -- it comes with so little warning this time, and Midnight executes the motion with such unnatural ease that all Fuuta can do is give a startled yelp as he's hefted up and placed down on the table.
Bad enough! Worse: the way he can feel a flush of heat -- embarrassed? flustered? both? -- rising in the pit of his stomach as he looks up at Midnight from where he's laid out on the table. Worst: his face reddens further, traces of it reaching his ears, when he hears what Midnight is saying. ]
'Darling?!' [ No, more importantly, the other thing -- ] And why should I -- ?!
[ He doesn't finish that sentence. In part because he doesn't know exactly how to. But also in part because they're starting to draw a small crowd of curious onlookers, people no doubt drawn to this new arrangement they're in, and Fuuta's gaze skitters towards them before he looks back up at Midnight with teeth clenched and breaths coming in hard huffs. Fuck. The last thing he wants to do is back of now, like some sort of weakling, in front of a crowd. So --
he abruptly reaches up to grab at the neck of Midnight's shirt, yanking to bring him closer. It lets him speak with his voice kept at a lower growl, mostly kept between the two of them: ] I'll do it myself. But I'm not undressing fully. You just need the clothes out of the way, and you can't say I'm throwing the round.
[ Accompanied by a hard glower before he lets go so he can fumble with his belt and the front of his suit pants. The sound of someone in the crowd wolf-whistling earns a frustrated grunt before he pulls his knees up, bracing his feet against the edge of the table so he can scoot the back hem of his pants and underwear just down past his ass. Offering just barely enough room for the prompt, but showing as little as possible. ]
[ The yank down does catch Midnight somewhat offguard, his pink eyes widening, but he does listen quite intently. He's not sure if anything said is anything that everyone else can't hear — of course he isn't throwing the round, as far as Midnight's concerned — but he does make it a point to listen when his attention is so clearly demanded. It's a privilege to hear someone's true thoughts, after all.
The wolf-whistler earns themselves a very impassive stare shot over Midnight's shoulder, which is more of a warning look than anything, but a short, soft growl does kick up in Midnight's chest very briefly. Not audible for anyone but his partner to hear — Midnight is a civilized vampire, thank you — but this is his show. If the lad is agitated enough for even Midnight to notice, he'd appreciate less commentary from the audience.
Anyway, Midnight turns his attention back to the young man, setting aside the lube after squeezing some onto his fingers. He warms it between his fingertips — and Midnight is quite warm, pleasantly so — and lifts those still-trousered legs, settling both onto one broad shoulder easily. There's no pause for logistics, no hesitance, just a hand at his partner's bottom, teasing him open.
Midnight looks down at his partner and smiles slightly. ]
Call me Midnight, by the way.
[ His wet fingers dive for that small ring of muscle, and Midnight's eyelids lower in concentration, focusing on nothing in particular. He's being very patient; his hands are proportionate to his size, but Midnight's quite a large man. He settles his middle finger first, letting the muscle accustom itself to the intrusion, then slowly pushes, then twists inside, letting his finger curl slightly to create space.
He understands that taking it this slowly might set off this young man's temper again, but he's quite determined to do this properly, without harming him. After that... Well, he would like for this to be enjoyable, but at this point, he's figured out that getting a perfectly honest answer out of this lad is impossible. Better to do the best job he can and hope no permanent harm is done. ]
[ The worst part about this, honestly -- even more than the sounds of the crowd buzzing at the back of his mind, even more than the feeling of the table's hard surface under his back, and even more than the jarring sensation of having his legs easily propped up against the guy's shoulder -- is the fact that it still does feel good when that slick finger slides into him.
A part of him had been prepared for discomfort, but there just isn't any. There isn't even the usual, startling chill of lube or any friction, just the sensation of being entered; though Fuuta does still give a reflexive jerk, he can't even pretend to be uncomfortable when it just ... isn't. Even the slight pressure inside as Midnight curls his fingers just has his nerves simmering with a faint heat, and Fuuta has to hiss out his next exhale past clenched teeth to try and keep himself controlled.
Of course, that does nothing to stop him from being as mouthy as ever. ]
Seriously? You think now's the time for an introduction?! Save that stuff for l --
[ Maybe it's for the best that the the next shift of Midnight's hand has him hurriedly clapping a hand against his own mouth to stopper up the more syrupy noise that had started to escape him, and Fuuta squeezes his eye shut as he tries to calm himself down.
Too bad all his best efforts, taking slow breaths and counting in 3's in his head, still doesn't mask the way his entrance squeezes just a tighter around Midnight's finger, his legs tensing against that broad shoulder. It also doesn't do much to hide the way the front of his slacks start to tent as his blood starts to pump hotter. No, he won't willingly give a straight answer, but at least his body is a lot more honest in that regard. ]
[ Sensitive, isn't he? In more ways than one. In spite of everything, Midnight can see and feel that his partner is enjoying this. He probably wants this to be over with, but Midnight can't help but really strive to do his best, twisting and feeling around until he's stroking gently where the young man reacts the most. Midnight keeps an arm thrown over both thighs to keep his partner trapped in place, unable to roll away from Midnight's touch.
Midnight does have a sadistic bone or two (or three) in his body, but this is a game with multiple rounds, so Midnight can't just sit here and pleasure his partner all night, as much as he likes to. Still, he does have enough time to explore one last option; he holds onto those legs a little more tightly, then leans, bringing clothed knees up to his partner's chest. He'll be done after this, but he wants to experiment a bit more, just to see if the new angle reaches deeper. He's curious, and he likes doing a good job. ]
[ He still has his eyes closed -- in part because the prospect of meeting Midnight's eyes in this compromising position is too much to handle, and in part so he can better block out the fact that they're in public -- and so Fuuta doesn't see the shift in position coming. As a result, he ends up making some undignified, breathless noise like a squeaky toy that's gotten stepped on when his legs are hitched up and that touch inside him crooks into a new angle. ]
Ah, wai -- nnh! [ His protests cut off into a low whine as the pad of that intrusive finger rubs up against the sensitive spot inside him. It earns a hard shudder and a jolt before he gathers his senses enough to grab at Midnight -- shirt, sleeve, arm, whatever he can reach -- with his free hand and tug. His words come muffled past the hand still pressed to his mouth as he hastily rasps, ] -- that's gotta be enough. For the dice.
[ It's mortifying enough getting turned out like this in public. It feels like things can get dangerous if this goes on for much longer. ]
[ And so it is. Midnight eases back, slips his finger from his partner, and grabs a handkerchief, wiping lube from first his partner, then his own fingers. He does keep an eye out to make sure the lad gets up on his own — he won't help there, he should be fine — but he will offer a hand to help his acquaintance off the table. Regardless of how the offer is taken, Midnight will settle back in his seat, slide the dice over, and settle back, eyes looking over carefully. ]
Though -- he also doesn't have it in him to react in his usual bristly fashion; instead of slapping it away in indignity like he'd usually do, Fuuta instead just waves it off as he blearily rolls his way off the table, fixing his gaze anywhere but on Midnight. His hands hurriedly move to fix his clothes, at least pulling them back into place even if they're a little wrinkled, and he takes a few deep breaths to try and calm himself back down.
Thank god he can sit real close to the table, and if he slouches, it mostly hides the fact that he's still half-hard. It's what his mind's largely occupied by even as he gives the dice a hasty roll, squinting at them as they roll to a halt.
'KISS' 'NOSE.'
A roll that's greeted with a groan and a huffed exhale before he shoots Midnight as grudging sideways glance, growling: ]
Come here.
[ He doesn't want to stand up, so Midnight better be the one to come closer. ]
[ Well, he's just sat down, but looking at the dice, Midnight simply inclines his head and gets back up, striding over to his opponent's side of the table. He ducks his head just within nose-kissing range, and grins, easy and wide. Oh, it would be so easy to tilt his head up just so and catch his lips... Ah, but first. ]
What a game this is, mm? You're quite the competitive sort. Much obliged.
[ Midnight's expecting the lad sizzle like water in a pan, but it's all very calculated. He needs to know that this young man isn't defeated yet, that he's still game even if he isn't having fun, per se. (And there's Midnight's own feelings on the matter, too. He likes winning and having fun, but if it's a choice between the two... Well, he can afford a loss. He really isn't here to win, after all.) ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
no subject
Mm... Well, let's try that, shall we? The next time I'm quite unsure of how comfortable you are, I'll simply ask... Ah, a perfect example.
[ Midnight looks at the dice, then rises from his seat, strides over, and leans directly into his new friend's space. His eyes settle half-lidded, dark and pleased, and he grins amicably. His teeth are remarkably pointed. ]
Would you be comfortable with me fingering your arse?
[ 2, 4. Well, Midnight's not one to argue with fate! ]
no subject
His brain's entirely filled with thoughts of whether it would be worse to prove the guy right by refusing to back off, or if it would be worse to do as the guy says and balk because he doesn't really want to do that.
Fuuta's expression is scrunched up as he hesitates, his cheeks flushed, and there's a significant pause before he finally barks out a (slightly forced) laugh. ]
-- n-not like I care? [ Oh he cares so much. His face grows even redder as the nearby staff titter in excitement, and he tries to ignore it, instead leaning forward and bracing an elbow against the tabletop so he can shoot Midnight a challenging stare. ] But are you really okay with doing something like that? You didn't even want me to take my shirt off. Don't go pushing yourself if you're not comfortable with it, old man.
[ He has no idea if this guy actually is old, of course. But he'll say whatever it takes to get a rise out of the guy at this point, and hopefully get him to back off first. ]
no subject
What is clear is that this young man is quite competitive. If he really wants to play, then...
Midnight will bend easily, wrap his arms around his opponent, then pick him up. His opponent can resist, but will quickly realize that Midnight is much, much stronger than an average human being. The kind of strength that would make lifting a car over one's head look like one's regular arm day. He will then clear some space on the table and lay his opponent down on his back.
Midnight removes a black leather glove, places it on the table, then takes a tube of lubricant out of his pocket. ]
I'm quite comfortable with removing your clothes for you, darling, but if you'd kindly pull down your trousers and underwear yourself, that would do much to prove your point.
[ Midnight's eyes light up, the tube open in his hands. ]
Unless you'd want me to undress you? I do enjoy that.
[ What his new acquaintance said has no relevance with Midnight, so while he did hear those challenges, he simply chose to disregard them. He doesn't like making others uncomfortable while playing games, sure. He does, however, love playing games. ]
no subject
Bad enough! Worse: the way he can feel a flush of heat -- embarrassed? flustered? both? -- rising in the pit of his stomach as he looks up at Midnight from where he's laid out on the table. Worst: his face reddens further, traces of it reaching his ears, when he hears what Midnight is saying. ]
'Darling?!' [ No, more importantly, the other thing -- ] And why should I -- ?!
[ He doesn't finish that sentence. In part because he doesn't know exactly how to. But also in part because they're starting to draw a small crowd of curious onlookers, people no doubt drawn to this new arrangement they're in, and Fuuta's gaze skitters towards them before he looks back up at Midnight with teeth clenched and breaths coming in hard huffs. Fuck. The last thing he wants to do is back of now, like some sort of weakling, in front of a crowd. So --
he abruptly reaches up to grab at the neck of Midnight's shirt, yanking to bring him closer. It lets him speak with his voice kept at a lower growl, mostly kept between the two of them: ] I'll do it myself. But I'm not undressing fully. You just need the clothes out of the way, and you can't say I'm throwing the round.
[ Accompanied by a hard glower before he lets go so he can fumble with his belt and the front of his suit pants. The sound of someone in the crowd wolf-whistling earns a frustrated grunt before he pulls his knees up, bracing his feet against the edge of the table so he can scoot the back hem of his pants and underwear just down past his ass. Offering just barely enough room for the prompt, but showing as little as possible. ]
no subject
The wolf-whistler earns themselves a very impassive stare shot over Midnight's shoulder, which is more of a warning look than anything, but a short, soft growl does kick up in Midnight's chest very briefly. Not audible for anyone but his partner to hear — Midnight is a civilized vampire, thank you — but this is his show. If the lad is agitated enough for even Midnight to notice, he'd appreciate less commentary from the audience.
Anyway, Midnight turns his attention back to the young man, setting aside the lube after squeezing some onto his fingers. He warms it between his fingertips — and Midnight is quite warm, pleasantly so — and lifts those still-trousered legs, settling both onto one broad shoulder easily. There's no pause for logistics, no hesitance, just a hand at his partner's bottom, teasing him open.
Midnight looks down at his partner and smiles slightly. ]
Call me Midnight, by the way.
[ His wet fingers dive for that small ring of muscle, and Midnight's eyelids lower in concentration, focusing on nothing in particular. He's being very patient; his hands are proportionate to his size, but Midnight's quite a large man. He settles his middle finger first, letting the muscle accustom itself to the intrusion, then slowly pushes, then twists inside, letting his finger curl slightly to create space.
He understands that taking it this slowly might set off this young man's temper again, but he's quite determined to do this properly, without harming him. After that... Well, he would like for this to be enjoyable, but at this point, he's figured out that getting a perfectly honest answer out of this lad is impossible. Better to do the best job he can and hope no permanent harm is done. ]
no subject
A part of him had been prepared for discomfort, but there just isn't any. There isn't even the usual, startling chill of lube or any friction, just the sensation of being entered; though Fuuta does still give a reflexive jerk, he can't even pretend to be uncomfortable when it just ... isn't. Even the slight pressure inside as Midnight curls his fingers just has his nerves simmering with a faint heat, and Fuuta has to hiss out his next exhale past clenched teeth to try and keep himself controlled.
Of course, that does nothing to stop him from being as mouthy as ever. ]
Seriously? You think now's the time for an introduction?! Save that stuff for l --
[ Maybe it's for the best that the the next shift of Midnight's hand has him hurriedly clapping a hand against his own mouth to stopper up the more syrupy noise that had started to escape him, and Fuuta squeezes his eye shut as he tries to calm himself down.
Too bad all his best efforts, taking slow breaths and counting in 3's in his head, still doesn't mask the way his entrance squeezes just a tighter around Midnight's finger, his legs tensing against that broad shoulder. It also doesn't do much to hide the way the front of his slacks start to tent as his blood starts to pump hotter. No, he won't willingly give a straight answer, but at least his body is a lot more honest in that regard. ]
no subject
Midnight does have a sadistic bone or two (or three) in his body, but this is a game with multiple rounds, so Midnight can't just sit here and pleasure his partner all night, as much as he likes to. Still, he does have enough time to explore one last option; he holds onto those legs a little more tightly, then leans, bringing clothed knees up to his partner's chest. He'll be done after this, but he wants to experiment a bit more, just to see if the new angle reaches deeper. He's curious, and he likes doing a good job. ]
no subject
Ah, wai -- nnh! [ His protests cut off into a low whine as the pad of that intrusive finger rubs up against the sensitive spot inside him. It earns a hard shudder and a jolt before he gathers his senses enough to grab at Midnight -- shirt, sleeve, arm, whatever he can reach -- with his free hand and tug. His words come muffled past the hand still pressed to his mouth as he hastily rasps, ] -- that's gotta be enough. For the dice.
[ It's mortifying enough getting turned out like this in public. It feels like things can get dangerous if this goes on for much longer. ]
no subject
[ And so it is. Midnight eases back, slips his finger from his partner, and grabs a handkerchief, wiping lube from first his partner, then his own fingers. He does keep an eye out to make sure the lad gets up on his own — he won't help there, he should be fine — but he will offer a hand to help his acquaintance off the table. Regardless of how the offer is taken, Midnight will settle back in his seat, slide the dice over, and settle back, eyes looking over carefully. ]
Your turn, darling.
no subject
Though -- he also doesn't have it in him to react in his usual bristly fashion; instead of slapping it away in indignity like he'd usually do, Fuuta instead just waves it off as he blearily rolls his way off the table, fixing his gaze anywhere but on Midnight. His hands hurriedly move to fix his clothes, at least pulling them back into place even if they're a little wrinkled, and he takes a few deep breaths to try and calm himself back down.
Thank god he can sit real close to the table, and if he slouches, it mostly hides the fact that he's still half-hard. It's what his mind's largely occupied by even as he gives the dice a hasty roll, squinting at them as they roll to a halt.
'KISS' 'NOSE.'
A roll that's greeted with a groan and a huffed exhale before he shoots Midnight as grudging sideways glance, growling: ]
Come here.
[ He doesn't want to stand up, so Midnight better be the one to come closer. ]
no subject
What a game this is, mm? You're quite the competitive sort. Much obliged.
[ Midnight's expecting the lad sizzle like water in a pan, but it's all very calculated. He needs to know that this young man isn't defeated yet, that he's still game even if he isn't having fun, per se. (And there's Midnight's own feelings on the matter, too. He likes winning and having fun, but if it's a choice between the two... Well, he can afford a loss. He really isn't here to win, after all.) ]