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peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 011
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.
Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】
CAMPING
GETTING OFF THE GRID
As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
HOME ON THE RANGE
Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
ACTIVITIES
TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT
Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
HOWLING
CALL OF THE WILD
Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence
▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ 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.
▶ 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.
▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ 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.
▶ 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.
no subject
Honestly, the question is maybe the only reaction he wasn't expecting. Maybe he should have - it's not far off from his own thinking.]
It's pretty cold, yeah. Like I said, you can cook it if you want to.
[Dodger pauses for a moment, and picks up one of the cuts to offer him. It's a bit of inner thigh meat, although that's only evident from the fact that he's still midway through sectioning out that part. He's still watching Makoto carefully, and ventures a guess at what the actual issue is, with a tone that betrays that he's already thinking of solutions.]
But that's not what you're after, right? You want something fresher.
no subject
his displeasure and disappointment only deepens at the confirmation. still, he accepts the meat when offered to him, and despite how tragically cold it is in his hands, the softness and give of the tender flesh is still enough to cause a faint flush to rise to his cheeks. he can’t help but work at it gently with his fingers, gaze for the moment unfocused and distant, remembering—the pang of hunger and twist of arousal feel almost like the same thing. when eating J, his thighs had been one of his favorite parts; one that he’s fairly certain he started with, though… it’s a bit hard to remember, as everything from the signing of the contract to events roughly two to three days after that are… a little hazy, when looking back. vivid in color, pleasure, and sensation, of course, but less important things like the order of events and passage of time fell out of frame.
he is thinking deeply about the options offered, about what might be the most satisfying (or, at least, the least disappointing), when the new one that dodger offers causes the demon’s head to snap up. his gaze fixates on him, wild and unblinking, for just a moment as focused and eager as a hunting hound straining at its leash. he can probably see the moment that the rest of him catches up, realizing the ramifications of what it is he is suggesting. his expression begins to shutter off, reticent… but in a way that seems to pain him to admit. )
That’s, uh… I—I, ( he fumbles, looking down, and everything about his reaction answers for him even before he forces a small, quick shake of his head and further response in a hushed undertone, ) I—don’t want to kill anyone.
( a pretty hypocritical thing to say, considering how wistfully he’d been fondling that meat a moment ago… )
no subject
There's hunger there, a very familiar call of the wild that Dodger locks onto immediately. It's a little disappointing, in turn, when Makoto tries to back up and be moral about things.]
So don't. [He takes a tone like he's giving the most obvious advice possible.] Pick someone that catches your interest, stand back and let me do the hard work. That's what demons do, right?
[If there's one thing Dodger has very little patience for, it's people holding themselves back from their dark urges. Yes, he tries to curb his own to some extent, but it's mostly to keep his own life from spiraling out of control. Makoto's in good company, he should sack up and indulge.]
cw: suicide mention
so of course the very core of him, the darker and uglier parts that he usually tries to subdue or otherwise obfuscate, are so much more interested in something fresher. but makoto has never sated his kinks with a dead body before. or, well… no, he had, but he’d been a vampire or something, so it hadn’t really been the same thing. he is self-aware enough to know that his desires are deeply selfish and destructive, and so he’d drawn lines, trying to make something deeply unpalatable more palatable (either to himself or to others). he didn’t want to kill someone just to get off. he’d been so worried that he might one day be compelled into doing so that he’d made an effort to kill himself before such a thing happened.
but it’s not you doing the killing. and maybe he’d kill someone else later, whether you asked him to or not?
the loophole is just as frightening to him as it is convincing, tantalizing. behind his right ear, the small symbol of Spades darkens to a foreboding beetle black.
conflict colors his expression, drawing his brows together. ) Not… really… ( of course, he’s seeing dodger as a mortal and himself as the demon in this scenario—usually, it would be him endeavoring to do whatever it was the mortal had decided to summon him and sell his soul for. but that’s just semantics, isn’t it?
he bends, but he tries to do so in a way that remains within the lines that he’s drawn for himself—if one squinted their eyes, at least. ) I’m not going to pick someone out. That’s… ( he shakes his head. it’s too close to him doing it himself; him, making that decision, and dodger simply acting as the instrument of it. he frowns, breaking through the last of his uncertainty and hesitation as he continues, ) But, i-if you can find a man—maybe someone tall, and not too thin and not too bulky, ( maybe he realizes on some level that if he keeps describing a Type, it will become more and more obviously close to J’s body type, because he stops there, ) I, um… I wouldn’t object or, have any problem with that…
no subject
Finally the kid reaches a conclusion. He won't pick someone specific, but he has a type in mind. Which is a much more frustrating proposition - it means that Dodger needs to hunt someone down and hope they meet Makoto's specifications.]
If you're going to make me think, you'd better have some payment in mind for me.
[He isn't sure he actually wants to trade cards with Makoto, just because his eyes freak Dodger the fuck out. But chips, or favors, something in that ballpark.]
...How important is it being a man? Are you gonna eat his dick?
cw: suicide mention again,
the problem is that makoto may be a demon, but he’s still standing in the long shadow of his human life. if he had remained in Hell, fully immersed with demons and their cutthroat culture for these past few years rather than spending time in the Golden Peacock, he would be a drastically different creature. here, however, he remains tethered to the world he left behind, and makoto had always and and overactive sense of empathy. it was a particularly ironic and twisted thing to be saddled with, especially given his sadism and all of his other morbid desires. here, he hasn’t been able to rid himself of it.
he turns to face dodger with narrowed eyes. ) Seriously? It’s not like it’s all that hard. I’m not that picky.
( but if it comes to a trade… it’s not something he can argue with. it was already pretty presumptive to ask someone to kill for you without offering anything in return, right?
he sighs. ) What exactly do you want, then? That auction wiped out most of my savings… and I doubt there’s a hell of a lot I can do that you wouldn’t be able to do yourself. ( he’s grumbling by the end of this answer.
though he ends up interrupted by the questions and startles into bristling. ) Wh—no, not really, and yes, it’s important! I—I’m not attracted to women, so… ( if any further confirmation that, yes, this is a sex thing. if he wanted a meal, he could figure something else out, but this is different. )
cw: necro/noncon discussion
...So do you want me to keep it fresh enough to fuck...?
[By his tone, he really doesn't care - he's done it himself, it's fine, his partner's participation in sex is completely optional anyway. He's really just pulling at loose threads, latching onto something that seems interesting about the other man.]
Or are you just gonna be a hornball after you eat?
[There's that look on his face again, like he's already thinking ahead and looking for solutions before Makoto's actually confirmed it. Maybe if Makoto keeps his eyes closed, he'd be willing to mess around with him. Far be it from Dodger to leave a fellow horny degenerate wanting.]
cw: more necro/noncon discussion
though, not because he’s above it. at this point, he doesn’t really think he’s above anything; he’d known, after fucking J’s guts and later his throat, that he’d found things like that far too incredible and thrilling to feel entirely satisfied by anything “normal.” it’s what had pushed him towards finally agreeing that his contract was satisfied. in that, J’s gambit had succeeded. if anything, makoto is anxious about learning just how deep the depths of his own personal depravity might go—his fear being that, once he goes past the line he’s kept drawn in the sand for himself over the last few years, there is no bottom. he’ll just keep plummeting into something unrecognizable.
so, is this a good idea? it probably won’t be the last time he thinks this. but it’s not pressing enough to get him to call it off. )
I—don’t know, ( there’s this kind of half-choked quality to this voice which indicates how strange and uncomfortable it is talking about this. even when he’d been contracted with J, he hadn’t really risen to the demon’s goads and quips and jabs about what he’d been doing. giving voice to it somehow made it feel more real and present, which make him nervous; even as a demon, keeping it secret felt imperative to the point of necessity. )
I don’t usually plan it out… ( even his decision to fuck J’s guts when he was still human had largely been spur-of-the-moment. sure, he’d thought about it plenty, but it had been a sudden crystallization of will and boldness. in this, though, he’s not sure—it would probably just depend on what was available? situation? opportunity? ) But, I mean, yeah. I’d have to… um. I guess I might want to fuck it, or otherwise, just, deal with it myself…
cw continues for a while probably
It is probably the cleanest solution, though. He'll just have to make sure his payment is worth the effort.]
No wonder you ended up wrapped up with a demon... you need plans, dumbass, otherwise you get your shit stomped in and you don't finish your kill.
[Why is he lecturing this kid like Dodger's his dad... he just shakes his head.]
So. Payment. Auction wiped your savings out. How about you suck me off for it? Blood gets me hard, you can fix that and give me a card. Then we're even.
[Surprise surprise, trading cards is always going to be the easiest way to get Dodger to do anything.]
no subject
more closely involving the demon in the “hunt” is a risk, though. dodger’s assumption that watching someone die might trigger his anxiety and guilt on the subject is pretty accurate. it’s so much more digestible (heh) when someone else does all the dirty work for you, out of sight and out of mind.
he bristles at the admonishment. ) Summoning him was part of my plan. I can’t help it that he decided to go off-script last minute.
( it’s not like he’s planning on killing anyone anyway. this is… a loophole. a single-use loophole. and that’s fine. he has other options, and he knows he prefers the living to the dead anyway.
it’s about the type of payment he expected. he fights back an instinct to make some sort of derisive noise; given what he’s getting out of it, it wasn’t necessarily a bad trade. even if he does wonder if dodger is either crazy (crazier?) or simply inattentive in saying he wants the guy with the self-professed cannibalism fetish to suck him off, but, well… he still probably wouldn’t go through with anything untoward. probably. it’s always a bit of a coin toss whenever his self-preservation is stacked against his vindictive bitterness. )
Okay. Fine. We have a deal.
( he probably shouldn’t have said that. in the Golden Peacock, there are plenty of rules and laws that he’s not subject to, not currently being in hell. this one, though? this has to do with what he is now. a deal or contract, be it written or verbal, is binding; humans might be able to renege, but makoto feels the binding of the agreement tighten around the fabric of his being. for a demon, breaking such a thing was tantamount to death.
after a quiet moment’s consideration, something occurs to him: ) You’re not going to watch, are you?
no subject
Dodger's eyes light up with interest - he might not know exactly what Makoto's feeling, but he's got a lot of general knowledge about demons to fall back on. He identifies as one, after all, whenever he isn't literally in their company. Having the word deal in the air between them feels meaningful, in a way that would likely just be a private joke for himself with another mortal.]
Up to you. I've got better things to do, but I don't mind snapping some photos if you want them for your spank bank later.
[He says it's up to Makoto, but only because he's deeply conflicted. He wants to watch, maybe participate... but it's the demon's eyes again, stopping him from committing to it. Making him perfectly willing to actually leave if Makoto doesn't want him around, rather that staying invisible like he might with someone else.]
no subject
regardless, it’s probably easy enough to pick up on that something has happened with that slip of the tongue, because makoto’s body language has gone rigid and closed-off. his expression contorts into something sour, though it’s entirely self-directed—he’s furious that he walked into something like that, especially when he knew better. if a demon avoided certain words, they could give themselves more leeway, but… he doesn’t know. it’d just felt like it’d tumbled out of him, like it was the right thing for him to say. stupid.
well, it’s not like he’d planned on trying to break the arrangement in the first place. he just hates the feeling of being beholden to it, the makeshift contract feeling like an invisible, intangible net cast around him.
as much as he wants to say no… is there really any saving face at this point? )
I, ah—maybe, but I’d need to know that you deleted them after you sent them to me.
( like hell is he going to let someone like dodger wander around with blackmail material like that. not wittingly or willingly, anyway.
his own opinion on the matter actually isn’t an easy answer to find. he’d absolutely hated it when J had watched when fjord had taken his virginity, but… that was very different. it had also been J. is it better or worse that dodger is someone he only sort of knows, has an odd and intimate insight into due to the nature of their first meeting, and also kind of hates because of the injured shoulder and bruised ribs he’d given him? )
I usually don’t like it, but, um… ( his shoulders roll in a shrug, and he sighs, ) well, once I start, I’m probably not going to notice or care. ( he becomes a bit of a different sort of person when he finally lets go on all those tangled inhibitions. )
That, and if you go wandering off, it’s going to make it kind of inconvenient to settle this debt.
( there’s no time specified on the deal, so it’s not like those bindings would tighten into a noose. it’s not pleasant to have that held over him, though, so… yeah. he’d like to just settle it as quickly as possible. )
no subject
Sure. You can watch me delete them.
[Fortunately for Makoto, Dodger isn't particularly tech-savvy. Definitely not enough to sleight-of-hand and copy those photos before he deletes them.
He's even more interested, hearing that Makoto will probably lose himself once he's got a corpse in front of him. That does sound like a sight worth sticking around for.]
I'll stick around, then. Should be a good show. In the meantime - wait here.
[Dodger doesn't actually wait for an answer, before his form bursts apart into flames with a loud POP and disappears. Give him... fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, before he reappears with one of the long-standing guests lifted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He picked a man a little taller than himself, relatively lean and well-muscled, and currently unconscious. His other hand is still holding his hatchet, and he raises it in a mock-salute.]
There. Your choice - strangulation or beheading?
no subject
regardless, making sure someone didn’t have obvious dirt on him is basic; he’d known that even before being made into a demon. ) …Okay, then.
( he’d just have to make sure they were hidden deep enough in his Watch’s file infrastructure that they’d never show up unexpectedly…
as much as it still makes his skin crawl to think of having someone watch him, he doesn’t argue anymore; it feels like the best way to handle the situation. so, after dodger disappears in a loud sound and a puff of smoke, makoto… slowly wraps his head around what he’s agreed to. he finds a place to sit down, body language tense and coiled. if the way that he typically acts is like a long skein of bandages that he usually keeps so densely wrapped around the core of his being that no one can properly see it, he spends this time slowly unwinding that, relaxing his fears and doing what he can to discard his worries.
the bright, sharp, vivid eagerness that begins to grow in the pit of his stomach helps with that.
when dodger reappears with the unconscious body of a man slung over his shoulder, makoto’s eyes slide to that body with exacting precision. when he had been human, contracted with J, there had been many times in which his eyes had clouded over to an almost lambent gray; as colorless and lightless as some deep-sea creature pulled from the depths of the ocean’s trenches. his eyes may have changed, but that quality of theirs has not. there’s something alien and remote in his expression and in his gaze that hadn’t been there before; it reveals itself again when he replies sharply to the question. )
Don’t behead him. ( and just in case dodger thinks he’s being soft in this decision, he continues, lip raising ever-so-slightly in a sneer, ) He’d lose too much blood.
( how much blood his own mortal body had lost when J had ripped his head off is vivid in his memories. he isn’t entirely sure if he’s right, but if a body loses a lot of blood, it’s likely to cool faster, right? especially since the weather in the Vale is already chillier than he wishes it was. )
Can’t you just break his neck? ( makoto gets to his feet. ) Otherwise… strangle him, I guess. ( his main reproach there is that he’s always heard it takes longer to strangle someone to death than you think it does.
it’s not that he’s suddenly shed all of his guilt. it still prickles deep inside of his chest, stabbing out at him with a feeling of sickly, radiating anxiety. but it feels relatively small and distant. these guests are just as trapped in the stomach of this resort as the rest of them are, right? he would have to assume that they, just the same as the rest of them, won’t stay dead. so it’s nothing to worry about—or so he assuages himself. )
SLAMS BACK IN HERE INCREDIBLY LATE--
Breaking his neck won't kill him. But sure, it'll stop him from struggling.
[He lets the man fall to the ground unceremoniously, and nudges him onto his back with a foot. Then Dodger leans down, pulling him up to snap his neck sideways with a sick crunch. It definitely strains the skin around his neck, with how far Dodger has to twist it, but it's still better than a decapitation. And once he's satisfied, he lays the man back down with a hand clamped over his throat. It's better to use multiple methods, anyway - humans are shockingly resilient creatures.]
Unconsciousness would have happened in less than a minute, but we won't be sure he's dead for about six minutes.
[For someone of Makoto's stature, he'd be worried about him not being able to hold down the man's windpipe for that long. In Dodger's case, this barely takes any effort at all. More than anything, it's just annoying that they have to sit here waiting for it.]
Might as well start playing with him now - not like he can stop you.
🔞
regardless, the way that makoto replies to the blink indicates that… maybe he hadn’t been entirely aware of that. not that he doesn’t believe dodger. clearly, he has experience at this where makoto doesn’t; it would make sense that pop culture and media wouldn’t be strictly accurate about the best and easiest ways to kill a human being. the only thing he feels like he’s gleaned is that it’s a lot harder than you think it is (just in a physical sense, setting aside whatever moral quandaries one might have).
despite how hesitant and uncertain he’d acted before, makoto doesn’t react much to the way that their victim is treated. the unconscious body is dropped to the ground, flipped over. he does flinch at the sudden snap that his neck makes, just how quickly it all happens—but the wide stare of his eyes is more darkly fascinated than disgusted. ultimately, looking at the unseemly angle of the stranger’s head and the crushing weight with which dodger presses his hand down over his throat, the primary thing that surprises makoto is… how much he doesn’t really feel anything at all. no guilt, no fear, no disgust, but also not really any sick thrill—perhaps if he were the one robbing the man’s life from him, he’d feel more engaged in it, but as it is… he feels adrift from it. not necessarily in a bad way. but in a way that would make him nervous just for how easy, how simple, how rote this could all become if he let it.
up to six minutes, huh…?
that he might stay alive for so long is, to makoto, a good thing. even before dodger makes his suggestion, the young demon is sinking to his knees alongside the body. his gaze hasn’t budged from his neck. he doesn’t reply, hesitating for just a moment before extending a hand—it passes past dodger’s, clamped over his windpipe, instead questing with his fingertips at the sick and terrible twist to the man’s neck, the odd angle of his head. his breath flutters as it leaves him, a faint rosiness clouding over his cheeks. )
R—Right.
( his attention unfreezes, scanning downwards along the body, pausing as he tries to sort through about a half-dozen increasingly loud and pointed instincts to find what he would do next. that step is easiest. he tugs at clothing—vest, jacket, shirt—whatever the man might’ve been wearing is either undone or ultimately cut away in a twinge of impatience as makoto draws the same small knife he’d tried to stab dodger with on their first meeting from where he hides it on his person. he bares the man’s chest, which he similarly drifts his eyes and fingers along, a low and incredible buzz beginning to rumble through his veins as he realizes that this is real, this is happening—that he has to decide what he wants to do first.
makoto is not a monster of half-measures. his blood hadn’t even been dry on his contract before he’d set to ripping J in half—if it’d been the violence, or the spectacle of the explosive gore, or the ease of entry on how to begin to eat him… he couldn’t say. he can’t remember. all of that might’ve been part of it.
for now, he sets the fastidiously-honed blade of the knife against the skin just above the breastbone. his breath catches as he applies pressure, the hot well of blood springing up around the edge as if in mutual eagerness, following in a thick, seeping line as he drags the cut open wider, towards his navel. the person is muscled well enough that he isn’t sure he’s cut through the flesh into the cavity below in many more places than just a few, but that doesn’t matter to him right now—he can always cut deeper, and for now he’s too rapt and fixated on the blood, on the unseemly eroticism of how skin, flesh, and muscle separates into layers, pale, pink, and flush with ubiquitous blood. he dips his other hand into the wound, and as he feels along that newly-opened seam, he seems to realize that he’s stopped breathing. he starts again with a soft, sudden gasp at that sensation of slick heat. when his breaths continue, they are uneven and faintly ragged, cut off as he lifts his hand to his mouth to suck on his bloodied fingers. his eyes are barely open to guide the path of the knife as he crudely cuts a small piece of bloodied flesh away, which he pushes into his mouth with a small, crushed-sounding moan. the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue, the taste and give of the meat as he chews it—the strong surge of tantalizing pleasure it sends through him, primarily sinking to his hips and his stiffening cock, is bizarrely nostalgic.
really, flesh isn’t what makoto is all that interested in. for those in the Golden Peacock able and willing to allow him to indulge his kinks on their bodies, flesh is typically what they give him. and he still gets off on that, sure, but the thing about being restricted to one thing is that what is typically forbidden becomes that more intense in its allure—it’s utterly fixating to him that he will be able to push further here, to eat as much as he possibly can of the man’s guts, organs, and viscera, but in this moment he’s… working up to that. a small tease, wakening and focusing that desire to fever pitch. )
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Mindlessly, he licks his lips - really, in general, he's starting to look like a dog watching its owner eat steak. His gaze follows that bit of flesh and then locks onto Makoto's lips, appreciating the way his mouth moves while he chews. It's not that Dodger's been in short supply of human meat, it's just a fully different beast to watch someone else eat it, and it has his breath picking up while his cock slowly starts to fill.]
If you keep taking little bites like that, it's gonna go cold.
[He's trying not to rush him, but he just wants to see more. Bigger bites, or Makoto's hands digging into the man's stomach.]
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well, no, that’s not entirely true. he’s aware of the man’s presence in the same way that one would be aware of the droning of a fly in the same room—distant, annoying, but not bothersome enough to do anything about. so he just doesn’t think of him very much in this moment, instead focusing entirely on what he’s doing, on the beautiful and macabre way that this body is slowly blooming open with the efforts of his hands and knife. he’s no professional, and it’s been a long time since he had so much freedom and leeway, but there had been several occasions during his month contracted to J in which his carnal desires had ebbed enough for him to be instead motivated by morbid curiosity. he’d butchered him with single-minded, rapt attention; for some reason, he remembers the moment where he’d realized that his hands no longer shook from the wild energy that possessed him at finally being able to sate those desires he thought he’d never be able to indulge. even if it has been years by this point, he’s almost comforted to find that he can still cut with confidence. it had been fun the one time, but he never wanted to do something like launch into tearing someone in half at the very start ever again. talk about wasteful, and not to mention how demons would look down on losing one’s composure.
dully, he is aware that dodger is talking to him. what’s funny to him is that that, too, somehow manages to be nostalgic. J had nagged him constantly when they’d been contracted together; even when makoto had cut the demon’s eyes and tongue out of his head, he’d managed to keep talking at him. he’d long since learned to tune him out…
he’s tempted to do so again now, especially since he pieces together that he’s got some opinion about how he’s doing this. he’s too fixated to even bristle. he returns the knife back to that seam he’d opened up in the man’s chest, and though it seems he might not reply, he does end up doing so several long seconds later, ) Our deal didn’t include commentary.
( what’s a little more unsettling about the dispassionate way he speaks is that it’s at total odds with the rest of him. it would be obvious to anyone within ten feet how affected makoto is by this, but… there is a strange dichotomy between the fervent heat of his body and the serpentine coldness of his mind.
the knife cuts deeper, because he would have done so anyway. he has to pay very close attention when cutting into the abdominal cavity, using his fingertips just as much as his eyes to make sure that he cuts through muscle and viscera and not into the offal resting beneath. he is careful enough to start the cut with the knife and widen it with his hands, but he’s rewarded with that window tearing open to the beautiful interior of the gut, red and pink and still pulsing and quivering with life (which the poor victim is, by this point, struggling to maintain, but that’s just details). makoto’s breath tumbles out of him in a rush; a shudder of unmitigated lust rattles through him. for the moment, he sets the knife aside, freeing him up to sink both hands into the twitching mess. he handles the warm shapes of those organs with the same lurid devotion one would a long-lost lover. he keeps exploring with one hand as he tangles into the intestines with the other, tugging them free of the mass and pulling them up towards his face as he bends over to eat.
he pushes the offal into his mouth, tongue entangling; his eyes lid nearly closed as he sucks lasciviously on them for just a moment, enjoying those sensations of heat, of fresh blood, of life itself still running through the still-living organ. it’s that that he wants more than anything else, yearning for and dreaming of, too inhibited by his own harsh constraints to get this opportunity more often than a few times a year. it’s just been too long. why the fuck does he do that? if something feels so incredible, so thrilling, so perfect, shouldn’t it be done all the time? the throb of his cock is almost painful. that want spurs him forward, causing him to tear the bite away with hands and teeth—chewing, swallowing—his quick, heated breath puffs through his nose before escaping all in a rush through his bloodied mouth. he’s losing that composure that he’d been hoping to keep, but he doesn’t really care. he just wants to eat—to take everything that is beautiful and entrancing and arousing held safe and secret within the body and to consume it, to make it his and only his. he reaches for more, another bite and then another, as the life slowly ebbs away from the body. )