【 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.
[ he supposes a part of him had been so quick to help because it felt more romantic to him. two hands working in tandem, his own touch ghosting over satoru's as if ready to catch him if he falls. so when he's rebuffed it's a jab to his ego, a rejection of sorts, even though or maybe particularly because satoru picks up where he'd shrugged him off, seemingly instantly internalizing that teaching. it reminds gladio, too, that there are plenty of things about satoru he doesn't know, or understand, and might never. he's explained things here and there about his life back home, about the superhuman powers he possesses, but the whole thing rings so loudly of half-truths that gladio has simply learned to believe it all. because, really, what purpose would satoru have in lying to him about any of it?
(he pushes down the reasoning, not wanting to give it more than the most passing of thoughts, the shortest fraction of a second: it's not like they'll ever go home together anyway.) ]
You already started shaving, so let's save the mask as a last resort.
[ it's easy to refocus his thoughts on the shuffling of that long dress, the way it bunches with each roll of satoru's hips against his thigh. it tells him immediately that this silly plan is never going to work with him as a partner—and that, apparently, satoru can wear damn near anything and still find ways to turn him on effortlessly.
even when he's crooning corny petnames. ]
Stick to my name. Sounds better from your lips.
[ he licks his own, gaze dropping the best it can to watch the mischief on satoru's mouth as his jaw is pushed and pulled as needed. is it obvious that his thoughts are hardly about what's coming out of those lips, rather what could be going into them? or that, despite the idea remaining buried for now, he'd probably wear any stupid outfit satoru asked him to if it meant they got to fool around in them? ]
Does it? ( softly, like he has no idea--and of course, that means the next thing out of his mouth is: ) Ossan~.
( but he's smiling, despite himself, blue eyes locked in on the task at hand; now that he's gotten a better angle and better pressure, it's easier to keep going, to have more finesse with the way he slides the razor down, patient and slow, working the stubble down until it's barely a ghost on gladiolus' skin, and then mostly gone entirely. it's a little funny, when he leans back a little to admire his work: the only thing left is the hint of stubble over his top lip, and he grins at that, a little pleased.
if he thought he could get away with it, he'd probably for the sideburns, too, and take them down a little--but then he's also not fully convinced that they're really going to get into the women's lounge like this, at least not for awhile.
so his hand holds gladiolus' chin in place, and the other gently nips the razor down, trimming short the hair above his upper lip; once it's gone, he thumbs the razor off, reaching past gladiolus so that he can set it down beside him on the bed. )
Face test, Amciti-san. ( is he now going to say everything except gladiolus' first name? probably. ) Let's see...
( rocking forward, his weight pressed down into his pelvis, rubbed into gladiolus' thigh, he presses his cheek in against gladiolus' cheek; like a cat, he rubs down, sliding, brushing until he has to switch to the other side of his face, slowly rubbing and testing up the other side of gladiolus' cheek all the same.
then it's his lips, running from one end of his jaw, to his chin, and then the other end--and when he drags himself back, it's with a confident little smile. )
[ somehow, he doesn't expect it even though he certainly should by now. though it's softer and gentler, likely just due to their proximity, that trill of teasing in it is familiar as ever. and he chuckles, low and rumbling, despite himself, thick fingers kneading into satoru's waist while he finishes work he knows they'll both regret in the morning. if not sooner, judging from the held-breath pause of observation of that last strip above his own mouth, as if considering leaving it. he's just about to make some comment about how he was supposed to be getting prettier, not weirder, when the grip at his jaw firms up, and that razor clips away the last few strands of his dignity.
sure, he doesn't look bad with a clean shave. he'd lived most of his life like this so far, after all, though that had mostly been in waiting for his hair to grow in a little cleaner, a little less patchy. but again, before he can say a word, satoru's helping himself—this time a little less romantically. ]
What—
[ cut off, by smooth, pink cheeks dragging over his own, still somehow highlighting the fine dust of stubble always left behind by an electric razor. a straight blade would've been cleaner, but that's an entirely different sort of intimacy to navigate. not to mention it would just make the grow back take even longer, when he knows it'll already be a struggle. for now, at least, satoru doesn't seem to mind, if the drag of his mouth is anything to speak of. the sensation shivers directly down his neck, peaking his nipples through his shirt. ]
Don't complain in the morning.
[ it's all the retort he can be bothered with, hands gripping and pulling satoru in at last, to wedge one of his thighs between his legs too. of course, he can't exactly grind into him from this position, much as he'd like to try. ]
( he's well aware that there had been a purpose to this: that he had been wanting to get into the women's lounge for a reason, that the great chocolate fountain in there is just waiting for him, calling out his name. but he's also well aware of the heat that's throbbing between his legs, half-hard and wanting, as gladiolus' thigh rubs against him again, and his own sinks between gladiolus' in kind; it's a hard choice, trying to choose between fooling around and getting in his daily dose of sweets, and straightening back up again so that he can look at him, properly, he pretends to consider--his lips purse, twisting, eyes sharp and bright across the other's features. it's really not a hard choice, but does gladiolus know the weight that it leaves, to choose him over his vices?
with a slow, smooth smile, his hands lift, but it's just so that he can put pressure against gladiolus' shoulders, pushing him down onto his back on the mattress. then, dainty, he hefts up his skirt between his fingers, pinching the material up so that it won't get in his way as he climbs in on his knees to straddle gladiolus at the waist, first, sitting himself down just above the heady rise at the front of his pants. )
Just a little lip service.
( he says, his eyes bright with mischief--and he's up on his knees again, gently walking himself up the bed until his legs are straddling gladiolus' head between them, seated neatly on his upper chest. there, pointedly, he puffs the skirt out, fanning it over gladiolus' head until he can't see him at all; he'll let him come to his own conclusion about what's supposed to happen, here, with his stocking-clad thighs tight around gladiolus' ears, and the complete lack of underwear baring his arousal. )
Unless you're not interested~?
( loftily, from beyond the skirt dome he's created over gladiolus' face. )
Then we can get you dressed and go into the lounge, you know.
[ at this point, there's so very little that gladio wouldn't trust satoru with, perhaps to his own detriment. it's why he's here, sitting beside a dress he's sure to look ridiculous in. it's why he'd let him, of all things, shave his face clean for the first time in probably five years. it's why he doesn't protest or resist at all as satoru nudges at his shoulders, simply engages his core to lower them together like a bit of a show-off, hands firmly in place at satoru's waist to help him slide forward as they lay down. or, as it turns out, just he lays down, only to be almost immediately blanketed by the floor-length skirt that had been bundled up in his lap moments before.
it puts at least a temporary damper on his arousal, one that all but undoes the spike the simple act of shimmy up his body had caused. leave it to satoru, of course, to have a plan in mind, though, and to know how to precisely press gladio's buttons by now—in all ways. so the agitated grunt of impatience as the skirt is unfurled over his head is quieted, nearly at once, when he realizes just what he's being presented with. sure, the fabric lets in little light, but the press of satoru's thighs around his bare cheeks, and the heat emanating off his nearly-bare erection poised maybe an inch from his lips is impossible to ignore.
he licks his lips, chuckling muffled by the flare of fabric blanketing him. his hands spread, palming narrow hips to hold them in place as he arches his neck without another word, to lave his tongue over the stockings and warm skin beneath them. ]
( there's an expectant breath, tented around his lips, but gladiolus doesn't go for the obvious heat between his legs--he goes for his legs, period, a warm tongue that laps over one of his stockings, and he can't help the way his muscles flex on either side, thighs tightening and then forced loose again. a husky laugh escapes, like he hadn't quite realized that as much as he wants to be in control, here, as much as he's brought this situation into being: in the end, it's going to be gladiolus running the show. he gets to decide what to do, under that tented skirt; he gets to decide how far to go.
so he shifts, slightly, not escaping the hold of gladiolus' hands on his hips, but rather, angling his back so that he can brace one hand behind him, holding himself up; that palm rests, light and sure, on gladiolus' stomach behind him, forcing him to let out another slow breath, his stomach tightening with interest underneath the stiff fabric of the dress. )
Guess that means you're not interested in anything else.
( lightly, but his eyes go up to the ceiling--the light's a little bright, especially with his nerves singing in interest, his cock twitching almost expectantly, a little flick at the head. )
That's fine with me.
( but there's a small tremor in his voice, betrayed by another husky laugh--he forces his eyes closed, lounging back on his arm, the other hand sliding into his own lap to grip at some of his skirts for something to hold onto. he'll start whining in a second, if he isn't presented with at least gladiolus' hot breath on hard skin. )
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
no subject
(he pushes down the reasoning, not wanting to give it more than the most passing of thoughts, the shortest fraction of a second: it's not like they'll ever go home together anyway.) ]
You already started shaving, so let's save the mask as a last resort.
[ it's easy to refocus his thoughts on the shuffling of that long dress, the way it bunches with each roll of satoru's hips against his thigh. it tells him immediately that this silly plan is never going to work with him as a partner—and that, apparently, satoru can wear damn near anything and still find ways to turn him on effortlessly.
even when he's crooning corny petnames. ]
Stick to my name. Sounds better from your lips.
[ he licks his own, gaze dropping the best it can to watch the mischief on satoru's mouth as his jaw is pushed and pulled as needed. is it obvious that his thoughts are hardly about what's coming out of those lips, rather what could be going into them? or that, despite the idea remaining buried for now, he'd probably wear any stupid outfit satoru asked him to if it meant they got to fool around in them? ]
no subject
( but he's smiling, despite himself, blue eyes locked in on the task at hand; now that he's gotten a better angle and better pressure, it's easier to keep going, to have more finesse with the way he slides the razor down, patient and slow, working the stubble down until it's barely a ghost on gladiolus' skin, and then mostly gone entirely. it's a little funny, when he leans back a little to admire his work: the only thing left is the hint of stubble over his top lip, and he grins at that, a little pleased.
if he thought he could get away with it, he'd probably for the sideburns, too, and take them down a little--but then he's also not fully convinced that they're really going to get into the women's lounge like this, at least not for awhile.
so his hand holds gladiolus' chin in place, and the other gently nips the razor down, trimming short the hair above his upper lip; once it's gone, he thumbs the razor off, reaching past gladiolus so that he can set it down beside him on the bed. )
Face test, Amciti-san. ( is he now going to say everything except gladiolus' first name? probably. ) Let's see...
( rocking forward, his weight pressed down into his pelvis, rubbed into gladiolus' thigh, he presses his cheek in against gladiolus' cheek; like a cat, he rubs down, sliding, brushing until he has to switch to the other side of his face, slowly rubbing and testing up the other side of gladiolus' cheek all the same.
then it's his lips, running from one end of his jaw, to his chin, and then the other end--and when he drags himself back, it's with a confident little smile. )
Wow, I really did it~.
no subject
sure, he doesn't look bad with a clean shave. he'd lived most of his life like this so far, after all, though that had mostly been in waiting for his hair to grow in a little cleaner, a little less patchy. but again, before he can say a word, satoru's helping himself—this time a little less romantically. ]
What—
[ cut off, by smooth, pink cheeks dragging over his own, still somehow highlighting the fine dust of stubble always left behind by an electric razor. a straight blade would've been cleaner, but that's an entirely different sort of intimacy to navigate. not to mention it would just make the grow back take even longer, when he knows it'll already be a struggle. for now, at least, satoru doesn't seem to mind, if the drag of his mouth is anything to speak of. the sensation shivers directly down his neck, peaking his nipples through his shirt. ]
Don't complain in the morning.
[ it's all the retort he can be bothered with, hands gripping and pulling satoru in at last, to wedge one of his thighs between his legs too. of course, he can't exactly grind into him from this position, much as he'd like to try. ]
What do I owe you for the service?
no subject
with a slow, smooth smile, his hands lift, but it's just so that he can put pressure against gladiolus' shoulders, pushing him down onto his back on the mattress. then, dainty, he hefts up his skirt between his fingers, pinching the material up so that it won't get in his way as he climbs in on his knees to straddle gladiolus at the waist, first, sitting himself down just above the heady rise at the front of his pants. )
Just a little lip service.
( he says, his eyes bright with mischief--and he's up on his knees again, gently walking himself up the bed until his legs are straddling gladiolus' head between them, seated neatly on his upper chest. there, pointedly, he puffs the skirt out, fanning it over gladiolus' head until he can't see him at all; he'll let him come to his own conclusion about what's supposed to happen, here, with his stocking-clad thighs tight around gladiolus' ears, and the complete lack of underwear baring his arousal. )
Unless you're not interested~?
( loftily, from beyond the skirt dome he's created over gladiolus' face. )
Then we can get you dressed and go into the lounge, you know.
no subject
it puts at least a temporary damper on his arousal, one that all but undoes the spike the simple act of shimmy up his body had caused. leave it to satoru, of course, to have a plan in mind, though, and to know how to precisely press gladio's buttons by now—in all ways. so the agitated grunt of impatience as the skirt is unfurled over his head is quieted, nearly at once, when he realizes just what he's being presented with. sure, the fabric lets in little light, but the press of satoru's thighs around his bare cheeks, and the heat emanating off his nearly-bare erection poised maybe an inch from his lips is impossible to ignore.
he licks his lips, chuckling muffled by the flare of fabric blanketing him. his hands spread, palming narrow hips to hold them in place as he arches his neck without another word, to lave his tongue over the stockings and warm skin beneath them. ]
no subject
so he shifts, slightly, not escaping the hold of gladiolus' hands on his hips, but rather, angling his back so that he can brace one hand behind him, holding himself up; that palm rests, light and sure, on gladiolus' stomach behind him, forcing him to let out another slow breath, his stomach tightening with interest underneath the stiff fabric of the dress. )
Guess that means you're not interested in anything else.
( lightly, but his eyes go up to the ceiling--the light's a little bright, especially with his nerves singing in interest, his cock twitching almost expectantly, a little flick at the head. )
That's fine with me.
( but there's a small tremor in his voice, betrayed by another husky laugh--he forces his eyes closed, lounging back on his arm, the other hand sliding into his own lap to grip at some of his skirts for something to hold onto. he'll start whining in a second, if he isn't presented with at least gladiolus' hot breath on hard skin. )