【 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 new inn for all new arrivals. Wildcards are invited to enjoy rest and relaxation while getting to know their fellow inn patrons. Current guests are encouraged to make reservations at the inn for some self-care. Prices are discounted to celebrate the new year.
All patrons have exclusive access to new additions at Crane's Respite and Heron's Retreat. The inn itself also provides a unique experience unlike anything else in the Golden Peacock.
We aim to have all guests moved into their suites as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience! 】
▶ BLANKET CW: alcohol; BDSM; body modification; competition; costumes; dubcon; group sex; petplay; public sex; punishment; sex toys; stripping; supernatural; transformation
▶ 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!
▶ 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.
— OIL AND STONE: THE RYOKAN; CW: RISK OF DISCOVERY, PUBLIC SEX, VOYEURISM, EXHIBITIONISM.
[For as much as Rufus recognizes and values the importance of maintaining a pristine public-facing image, there's something about the allure of the forbidden (and of any high-risk, high-reward prospect therein) that just can't be ignored. It's not even that he needs the promise of a double payout; he's just here to see if he can get away with it.
And, more importantly, who he can tempt into going along with him.
You'll find him in the indoor baths, generally unruffled about his nudity; a particularly observant eye could certainly take note that he's not nearly as unfocused and relaxed as he's feigning outwardly, from the way he's still attuned to the sounds of passerby around him and cataloguing the movements of the staff patrols on the occasions he opens his eyes a fraction.
When the coast seems to be clear, you may catch him grinning at you.]
Up for a little fun? Unless you're afraid of a slap on the wrist for misbehavior.
[This isn't the first time in the resort that Rufus has found himself drawn into petplay — that dubious honor goes to his arrival gift, thank you very much — but by now he's much more comfortable with the resort's various games, and so when it throws a curveball that promises the opportunity to push the envelope, he's all for it.
If you've found yourself assigned to him, you'll find that Rufus is here in the market for a pedigree show pet — nothing less than the best for the discerning pet owner that is Rufus Shinra!
Yet he is, paradoxically enough, in many ways more comfortable with dogs than he is with people, and won't hesitate to show plenty of attention and care to his pup of choice. He'll just be...well, all in on the illusion, so hopefully the pet assigned to him is ready to be groomed and put through their show paces.
But of course, a pedigree puppy has more responsibility than just winning awards: they also need to breed the next generation. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of oversight to make sure the litter catches! It just might happen while Rufus and your partner's owner stand in the background and discuss stud fees...]
— (LIMITED) WILDCARD & OOC NOTES; SEE BELOW.
[For current characters, please note Rufus also has a network post available if that interests you!
With regard to wildcards, I'm mostly looking to stay limited to the above two prompt premises but if you have a variation on an idea that falls within them, or want to do network spam or something along those lines, let me know!
For the petplay prompt, I'm not really looking for three- or multi-way threads, so please feel free to make clear if you're tagging in as Rufus's pet or as another "owner" with a pet of their own, and I figure we can loosely handwave and NPC the remaining roles to fit the breeding/studding/etc. premise!]
[ it seems, based on the commotion happening near the "kennels," that there's some difficulty with the next pedigree pet that the staff intend to show to rufus. this one isn't quite as docile as any of the others who came before, even if the staff are quick to assure rufus that any unwanted behaviors can be easily trained out by the right hand, and rufus is surely the right hand for the job, etc. etc. and so on and so forth.
for his own part, tseng has no idea how he ended up in this position. even after two years here he rarely lets his guard down when he's around the staff of the resort—but maybe he's grown complacent, too used to not being bothered as a result of his high rank? at any rate, he had been minding his own business passing through the hallway when a staff member had grabbed him to yank him into the kennel, and he'd only managed to take down two of them before they had cuffs around his wrists, a bit in his mouth, and a muzzle on his face. they'd cut his shirt off, too, which is irritating in a whole new way—and now, trying to show him off to breeders? literally what the fuck.
so it should come as no surprise that tseng fights them the whole way. it takes four staff members to keep him under control as he's pulled out into the showroom, and by the time he's shoved to his knees in front of his potential "buyer" tseng is panting and furious. the only thing that mollifies any of his anger is the fact that when he glares upward from under his disheveled hair, it's rufus with whom he locks eyes—thank ramuh, because if any other poor fool tried to buy him they would lose a hand for their trouble.
he can't say anything with the bit heavy on his tongue, but hopefully rufus can understand the rage in tseng's gaze as he holds rufus' eyes—an expression that says, very clearly, get me the fuck out of here. ]
[The showing has been going on for quite some time now, from Rufus's perspective — half owing to his own pickiness and half just for the sake of making the handlers work for his approval. Such are the perks of King status, and it's in moments like this that he truly gets to flex them. He's got two members of staff tending to his refreshment, one standing by with whatever toys he might want to use as he puts his prospective pets through their paces, and —
And, curiously, he had more of the handlers themselves, but they all seem to have disappeared. Strange.
But his answer quickly comes when not one, not two, but four of them emerge to haul his next prospect onto the show floor, thrashing and misbehaving and making them fight for every inch of ground they're able to gain. And that's the moment when his loose enjoyment evaporates, and his glass freezes just momentarily at his lips for the cover that he instinctively knows that drinking will provide. He doesn't need to see this one's long dark hair or powerful chest or the features hidden behind its obstructive muzzle to know who they've brought him. He would've known just from the fight, from the beauty and the danger of it.
It's Tseng. These fools decided to put his Tseng in chains.
Not so long ago, for the sake of a camera, they'd played at something like this before — Tseng beautiful and nude and subservient, Rufus lofty and extravagant and prideful. The demeanor that settles around Rufus now is nothing like the one he'd affected back then. There's no satisfaction reflected in his frigid blue eyes when they meet Tseng's. This isn't, after all, a game in any sense of the word.
And so this isn't the Rufus Shinra who in his time at the resort has learned to look forward to eggy bread breakfasts and sleepy mornings late in bed and soft sweaters in someone else's favorite color. This is the president of the corporation that owns the world, fresh off the helipad with only one thing that matters on his mind.]
I'd best not find a scratch on him.
[He sets his glass aside. Rises from his chair. His eyes never leave Tseng as he approaches where he's knelt, but that's as much to take stock of just how the staff had put their hands on him as it is to offer his own silent message of certainty.]
Tell me about acquisition and pedigree.
[Tseng, and only Tseng, is positioned to know how that statement really means dictate your own death warrant.]
[ it soothes something wild in tseng's chest, to look up into rufus' eyes and see that ice in them. nothing at all like the attitude rufus had worn when last tseng was shirtless and in chains for him—this is a calm that almost certainly means death, a calm that tseng has very rarely seen rufus wear. tseng is still furious, his rage is still white-hot and burning behind his breastbone, but it settles him a touch to know that rufus understands his anger and will make them bleed for it.
as you can see his conformation is perfectly breed standard, although his behavior leaves something to be desired, one of the trainers says with a derisive glance at tseng, seemingly unaware of how closely he's treading to the edge of his demise. he'll need considerable training. we tried for the tail, but—
tseng does actually growl at that, but if rufus looks at him in response, he'll see the almost imperceptible shake of tseng's head, the only thing that might save all this idiots' lives. they tried, but tseng fought so hard that none of them managed to get anything inside him, and eventually they gave up on the task entirely. the muzzle and chains are humiliating in their own way, but there has been no deeper violation. small mercies.
ignoring tseng's poor behavior, the trainer continues, as for pedigree, truthfully, we don't know. he was... sourced unconventionally. (that is to say, kidnapped from the hallway.) we wanted to show him because of his appearance, but if he isn't to your standards we'll take him away. ]
[They tried for the tail. How would that have gone, Rufus reflects in a line of thought so cold it almost seems to come from someone else, detached and dispassionate from the rage it actually inspires. Hold him down, a few on his arms, a few on his legs? Tseng fought his way out. He wasn't hurt. That makes no difference to justice, an attempt or a success, but it does to the part of Rufus that already feels scooped-out and hollow at the very prospect of what's been done to Tseng thus far.
He draws close enough to touch, by now, his gaze landing lightly on each of the staff members around Tseng before finally resting on the trainer giving his oration — and drifting a little closer to him as if intending to engage in a lengthier conversation.]
He is beautiful. Though I'm surprised you find his training deficient — you three. Take three steps back. Let's see if he'll behave for me.
[Rufus waits quietly until they do in fact back off, creating a halo of perimeter around where Tseng is knelt — and in the back of his mind the assessment is racing: cuffs on his wrists and a bit in his mouth but he can move his arms and legs, Tseng doesn't need free motion of his arms to kill, the bonds are a formality when it's the numbers that kept him down —
And then in the moment when complacency has settled, when the dictating trainer's attention is sufficiently divided, Rufus's own arm moves quick as a viper — grasping two of the trainer's fingers and jerking them back until they break, with a sharp twist to pressure the wrist for good measure.
It happens fast. So fast that by the time the trainer is crying out, Rufus's icy words are already layered over it.]
You, on the other hand? I can see the immediate need for correction.
[ more intimately than anyone else alive, rufus knows exactly what tseng is capable of. he knows that tseng doesn't need the full use of his arms to be lethal, that all tseng needs is a little room to breathe and he could have this entire room of men on the ground before they would know what hit them. and so tseng knows what rufus is doing, when he instructs the trainers to step back from their cautious perimeter—he's giving tseng room to stretch his legs, so to speak.
still, he doesn't move. tseng is perfectly still, his head just slightly cocked as he gives rufus his full attention. the trainers move back as instructed, and tseng stays kneeling, listening to the way rufus speaks. beautiful, vicious, the cutting edge of a razor honed so fine the first slice doesn't even hurt. he hears rufus move, hears the sharp crunch of breaking bones and the pained cry that follows.
tseng takes it as a signal. he's on his feet before rufus is done talking, has one of the remaining three trainers laid out by a roundhouse kick to the temple before the other two even think to move. his hair is loose, which is irritating, but poses no barrier to tseng's efficient dispatch of the remaining staff members, who clearly were not prepared for a pet with this kind of training—he takes a second out at the knees, winds them with a blow to the sternum, and sends the third crashing into the wall so hard a photograph drops to the floor and shatters in its frame.
the last target is the one with broken fingers, now cowering away from rufus and tseng alike as he cradles his injured hand to his chest. tseng brings him to the floor, ignoring the renewed noises of pain and agitation as he catches himself on his broken fingers, and presses his knee to the back of the man's neck to hold him in place. it's not enough pressure to kill him; none of the injuries left behind in tseng's wake will be fatal, but they will be a painful reminder to choose their pets more wisely.
with a twitch of his head to get his hair out of his face, tseng looks up at rufus. he's breathing hard, a little sweaty from exertion, but otherwise perfectly collected as he waits for orders. he'll need considerable training, indeed. these poor fucks had no idea what they were in for. ]
[In another time and place, Rufus might've retained the presence of mind to reflect consciously on the strange beauty of Tseng's efficient takedown, clearly finishing what he'd already started when they'd first accosted him in the hallway. Right now, however, his attention is fully on business — a quick glance to ensure that the first three aren't getting up anytime soon, then a more targeted focus onto the one Tseng has downed.
He himself makes a sharp contrast, too, to the agonized man on the floor: unhurried and almost serene as he moves over and reaches silently for the loose hair swept about Tseng's face, smoothing it back more neatly than a shake of the head would do and tucking it behind his ears as much out of quiet reassurance as out of practicality.]
Funny — he obeyed orders I didn't even speak aloud. So much for needing training.
[Rufus moves to where the last staff member is pinned, crouching down in a manner that's as much patronizing as to facilitate further discussion.]
You're going to beg his forgiveness for this insult. He's going to decide if you earn it. And if it takes you longer than ten seconds to satisfy him — well, there are roughly two hundred and six bones in the human body. I'm sure you'll figure it out before I've exhausted the other two hundred and four.
[ rufus isn't even finished speaking before the man beneath tseng's knee begins to babble apologies, garbled by pain and tears and only half-intelligible. truthfully, tseng isn't listening. he's watching rufus, reminded all at once of the things about him that tseng has always found most compelling: his poise, his cold beauty, the way he commands attention with only a word or a slight gesture. the adrenaline and rage of being restrained and muzzled is beginning to fade now that he's free, and in its wake, a vicious hunger is beginning to pool hot in his lower belly.
were this midgar, tseng would put a bullet in the man's skull. but this isn't midgar, and although tseng has no compunctions about killing he doesn't want to find out what consequences might come down upon him and rufus if he were to leave a corpse behind in the resort's little playroom. his knee digs in, just for a moment—the staff member whimpers in fear—and then tseng releases him, stands, and takes a step back.
he holds out his wrists, offering the cuffs in a silent demand. maybe rufus will understand what he means by it: he can keep his life if he gets me out of these things. the muzzle too, but tseng thinks he can manage that one himself once he has his hands back. ]
[Good. He should be afraid — but like Tseng, Rufus is more focused on the outcome of making a point than he is about seeing heads literally roll for the sake of his satisfaction. So maybe the discomfort the staff member has been put through is enough (it could never possibly hope to be enough), at least in terms of bringing this one particular encounter to as tidy of a conclusion as anyone might hope.
There was no room for theatrics when Tseng was on his knees in chains. Now that he's on his feet, willingly to openly set the terms for his own satisfaction, Rufus is a little more inclined to lean into the drama, if only for the sharp pleasure of playing interpreter.]
You're lucky. He's kinder than I am.
[A laughable prospect — maybe. Or maybe not. But either way, Rufus rises back to a standing position, reaching down and grasping a handful of the staff member's costume to drag him back largely upright as well. The one hand is mostly useless at this point, of course, but he's in one piece. Let him suffer.]
And I'm sure that you, your colleagues there, and all your other associates would never dream of inconveniencing such a kind, generous man with a misunderstanding like this ever again.
[As the staff member alternates between rapidly nodding in agreement with Rufus's dictated assessment and shaking his head frantically to negate the possibility of further interactions, Rufus waves his free hand idly toward Tseng's outstretched wrists until the man finally takes the hint that his groveling now needs to come accompanied by action.
It's clearly difficult for him to find the keys, but none of his associates are in any hurry to appear conscious, much less come to his rescue. Eventually, he finds the appropriate key and manages to fit it into the lock, twisting with shaking fingers until Tseng's hands come free.]
You'll make sure there are no repeat performances, of course. I assume you take my meaning? I'm trusting you to personally see to it.
[A thinly-veiled threat of accountability has never sounded so congenial.]
[ it's a little galling to the part of tseng that is and always will be a loyal turk that he has to leave it to rufus to lift the man up off the ground and set him on his feet again—tseng should be able to do that himself, bound hands or not. it's the last little insult, intended or otherwise, that hooks its jagged claws into tseng as he throws off the cuffs and reaches up to unfasten the strap holding the bit and muzzle in place.
the metal of it clangs when it hits the ground. the taste of metal is on his tongue, too, or maybe that's a little blood left over from having bitten his tongue. tseng spits on the floor, then lifts his wrists so he can rub at the places where the cuffs had dug in, leaving little marks behind in his skin. the gesture itself is enough to make the trainer flinch back visibly, which is how tseng knows the lesson has landed. ]
I'm sure he will, [ tseng says. his voice is low and quiet, but whipcrack-sharp in the otherwise silent room. ] Won't you.
[ the man nods frantically, babbling reassurances that are only half-coherent; tseng turns fractionally away, redirecting the full weight of his attention to rufus instead. the fight had been brief, but it soothes something in tseng to check rufus over and see that he's unharmed, that despite what these people had done to tseng they hadn't managed to get a single hand on rufus. ]
Sir. [ we shouldn't stay here, this place is not secure. tseng doesn't say it aloud, trusting rufus to read it in the incremental tilt of his head toward the door.
ostensibly it's for rufus' safety that tseng is so eager to leave that he'll forgo his own clothing in the name of getting the hell out of there—easier to lean on that than to admit that he himself is deeply unsettled. ]
[For a hint of a moment, Rufus's eyes meet Tseng's, and another of their unspoken exchanges telegraphs through the silence. Behind the ice of his frigid blue eyes flickers his own tumultuous concern — a look bitterly cognizant of the chasm of distance between them, and the necessity of maintaining it so as not to betray even the most fractional crack in his otherwise perfect severity.
It's unbecoming of a Shinra to harbor regrets. There is no space, for who he is in this moment, to be sorry for anything. And yet in that fleeting flash of connected gazes, all the emotion walled off behind his flawless mask is there: anger and indignation and an aching frustration at the fact that he can't do as he wants, when what he wants is to tear apart any evidence that such a humiliation was ever visited on Tseng and crush any witnesses to the sight and wring out revenge bit by poisonous bit and somehow, somehow hope that it's enough to counterbalance how upset he is that it ever happened at all.
(A lever needs a fulcrum to move the world. How ineffectual it becomes without one.)
It's a lot, for a fleeting glance. But they're old pros at knowing what lurks behind each other's eyes, and a look is all it takes before it's gone again, and their course of action is decided.]
I'm tired of this. We're going.
[He doesn't wait before turning smartly on his heel and making for the door. A Shinra wouldn't, after all; it's the Turks who perform the last intimidations in the wake of his departure.
But by the time he's in the elevators, his coat is off and waiting in his hands — not a particularly acceptable substitute for proper clothing, but at least enough to cover Tseng up. And to wrap securely around him in a way that, right now, Rufus himself can't.]
[ there's nothing they can do out here in the open. would that tseng could reach out to touch rufus, to reassure him and allow himself to be reassured as well—to tell rufus that he's all right and that no lasting damage has been done. but there is a certain image to be maintained even, or perhaps especially, in a place like this, and it's easier to fall back on the framework they both know intimately than it is to try and forge something new on the fly. tseng can see the unspoken words that linger in rufus' gaze, and it aches fiercely that he can do nothing to soothe that roiling sea of emotion.
the next best thing is, of course, to get the fuck out of here. rufus turns on his heel to make for the door; tseng lingers for a scant handful of seconds, his unblinking glare resting on the cowering trainer for a little longer before he, too, turns to follow in rufus' wake. his hair tie is gone, and the unbound strands of it fall around his bare shoulders, but tseng doesn't feel any sort of chill, not when there's a lingering heat still coiled low in his belly, the smoldering coals of adrenaline and rage.
as far as the elevators, tseng follows two steps behind rufus just off his right hand, his customary and well-worn place at the shinra heir's side. that is, until the doors to the penthouse elevators slide shut behind them and rufus offers out his coat—which tseng takes and wraps around his shoulders, his cognizance of propriety between turk and president warring with the possessiveness of rufus as his boyfriend. ]
Thank you, [ tseng says, and, as the elevator begins to ascend, throws away what remains of his good breeding in favor of shoving rufus back against the wall (perhaps a little too hard) and sealing their mouths together in a hungry, punishing kiss.
it's a little fucked up, maybe, tseng thinks. that his fury has been subsumed entirely into desire, that his adrenaline has channeled itself into an aching erection that presses against rufus' hip as they kiss. it's just that—fuck, rufus would have killed for him, if tseng had wanted him to. he would have slit that trainer's throat for the sin of putting his hands on tseng and hell if that doesn't do it for tseng, if he doesn't feel half out of his mind, nearly feral with how badly he wants to fuck rufus right now. ]
[Rufus is still seething when the elevator doors slide closed, brooding behind stormy eyes and frigid expression, buried so far beneath the refuge of his upbringing that he might as well be carved of marble for how still and unflinching he is. It's all there, the fury and the hurt and the indignation, bottled so tightly behind his facade that the force of it could cut diamonds were it not so carefully, relentlessly controlled.
That's why, in a rare moment for him, he doesn't see it coming when Tseng puts him into the wall and covers him with his body, claims his mouth and steals his breath and transforms him back from marble to man, wide-eyed and disoriented from the immediacy of the transition.]
Tseng —
[He hears the thank you belatedly, like it's filtered down through water, and he's eerily hesitant in his movements as he lifts his hands and presses the flats of his palms to the front of Tseng's coat-covered shoulders. He doesn't push him away — could never push him away, not ever but especially not after everything that's happened — but the touch is moderating, almost. Responsible. Tender.
Tseng is hard. He's hard, and bare, and wearing his coat, and kissing him breathless and it's all so fast that he doesn't want to breathe and swallow and stop but there's a rare protective hook in him that drags until he listens.]
I need your status. Are you drugged? Hurt?
[Not "injured", conspicuously — "hurt". And Shiva, Tseng's hair is loose, so much for being responsible — it's barely an instant before his fingers are woven through the silken black strands, not just possessive but selfish in how he knows what a privilege it is to touch them.]
[ it's understandable that rufus asks. tseng pulls enough far away to allow him to speak, although he stays close, caging rufus in against the wall of the elevator with the breadth of his shoulders and his hands still framing rufus' face. it takes every iota of restraint within him to hold back when rufus' hands push through his hair, but tseng is nothing if not ironclad in his control and no matter how his hunger aches he can't allow himself to be ruled by it.
he shakes his head minutely, not enough to dislodge rufus' hands, and says, ] I'm fine. My only injury is to my pride.
[ and he has no reason to lie to rufus about that. he wouldn't lie to rufus either way, tseng being what he is and rufus being who he is. but there was no aphrodisiac, and other than the slight ache where the cuffs bit into his wrists, tseng is completely unharmed.
but it's understandable that rufus asks. it's out of character for tseng to be so openly avaricious, least of all when moments before they were slotted perfectly into their respective roles. he doesn't entirely understand it, either, only knows that the thought of rufus being willing to spill blood for him makes him feel like he's losing his fucking mind. tseng leans forward to press his nose into rufus' cheekbone, drags his lips along the line of rufus' jaw, breathes in the scent of soap and the warmth of rufus' skin. ]
[ The thing about angling for a payout from sex in the onsen is, it's a gamble. And if you roll the dice long enough, you'll eventually get snake eyes, no matter how smart you think your bets are. And though Bella might insist she doesn't take unnecessary risks, her history says otherwise.
So, after girlbossing too close to the sun trying her luck one too many times and getting caught by an attendant, she has found herself here in the kennels to be passed off to a "trainer" for "discipline." The black leather collar and leash aren't entirely unfamiliar to her; nor is being dressed up in lingerie for inspection by a potential customer. The ears, though? Those are new.
As one of the staff hands her leash over to Rufus, she tips her head back to give him an ironic look. ]
Ruff, ruff. Don't listen to them, I'm already housebroken.
[The woman on the end of the leash isn't the first that Rufus has been presented with since he'd arrived in the playroom; at this point, there's no telling whether she'll be the last. The staff seems to have caught on that he has a preference for long dark hair, at least. It remains to be seen how else she aligns with his interests — or otherwise.
Without missing a beat, he twists the leash in one hand and reaches beneath her chin to tilt her face up with the other, guiding it side to side as he examines the structure of her features. He's wise enough not to put his thumb close enough to her lips to pull them back and check her teeth, at least not yet; too many candidates to date have come out spirited and sought to bite.]
You know what I'm after. What makes you think she meets my requirements?
[That much, at least, seems to be directed toward the staff that's still lingering around.]
[ Bella's eyebrows shoot up, half in surprise and half in amusement. She takes the correction, though; as he tips her head this way and that, she stays quiet, dark eyes fixed on his face until he turns her to the side, coming back to his gaze when he lets her face front again. ]
"Me, I'd say untrained, personally," [ the staffer says, with a shrug. ] "But you can see she's more biddable than a lot of what we've got coming through here. And we do apologize again for the, um ..." [ They make a biting motion with their fingers. ]
"Anyway, what was I going to say -- right, if you're looking for a show pet, I think she's got a lot of potential. Bright eyes, good posture, seems like she'll learn fast. And she was sure ready to show off in the onsen, weren't you?"
[ Bella's eyes cut over to the staffer, then back to Rufus. She opens her mouth, then closes it and cocks her head at him inquisitively. There's speaking when spoken to, and then there's speaking when spoken to by him. She's certain there's a difference. ]
[The ears match well enough, and it's not as though she's not pretty. Half the fun of the exercise is playing the discerning buyer, however, so it's not as though he's inclined to end the charade too early.
Fortunately for the girl, his attention comes back to her next.]
Did you volunteer for this, or were you acquired some other way? Speak.
Is that all? No wonder they thought you'd fit my specifics.
[He pauses, looking her over carefully one more time. It's not as though he doesn't already know what he's going to say next; the point is just to make her wait on it.]
One set, at least. Rule breakers don't have the temperament for show pets. But you've got the looks; it's easy enough to breed for the rest.
One ...? [ she starts, before he keeps speaking and the penny drops. She inhales; an unexpected warmth pulses between her legs, and a more expected one rises in her cheeks. Doesn't have the temperament. As if she hasn't given her all to every damn job she's ever had, whether she wanted it or not. ]
"So, you've come to a decision?" [ puts in the staffer, hovering closer. ] "If you want to spend a little more time with her, see how she responds to motivation, or if there's any questions we can answer ... We do try and make sure it's a good fit."
I'll take her for the time being. We'll see how she gets along with some of her fellows.
[He snaps his fingers, arm descending in a practiced motion that suggests he's absolutely familiar with signaling to real canines before, and waits to see if she'll move.]
Better one that's craving sex to begin with. It'll make the rest of it simpler.
[ It's clearly a command, but she balks, uncertain. Heel? It's probably heel, that would make sense, but what if she's wrong?
A split-second decision: he's put her in the role of untrained, rule-breaking bitch. She'll let that be her guide. Not too bratty, but a little puppyish unruliness. What other commands do most dogs know?
She doesn't move, or speak. Instead, she cocks her head and sticks out her hand. Paw. Whatever. Shake? ]
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peacockstop2026-01-15 09:00 pm
rufus shinra | ff7r | K♥ | current character
CW: RISK OF DISCOVERY, PUBLIC SEX, VOYEURISM, EXHIBITIONISM.
— CREATURE COMFORTS: FREE PLAY;
CW: PETPLAY, LIGHT OBJECTIFICATION, AFFECTIONATE HUMILIATION, VOYEURISM/EXHIBITIONISM, BREEDING KINK.
— (LIMITED) WILDCARD & OOC NOTES;
SEE BELOW.
petplay......... 🫣
for his own part, tseng has no idea how he ended up in this position. even after two years here he rarely lets his guard down when he's around the staff of the resort—but maybe he's grown complacent, too used to not being bothered as a result of his high rank? at any rate, he had been minding his own business passing through the hallway when a staff member had grabbed him to yank him into the kennel, and he'd only managed to take down two of them before they had cuffs around his wrists, a bit in his mouth, and a muzzle on his face. they'd cut his shirt off, too, which is irritating in a whole new way—and now, trying to show him off to breeders? literally what the fuck.
so it should come as no surprise that tseng fights them the whole way. it takes four staff members to keep him under control as he's pulled out into the showroom, and by the time he's shoved to his knees in front of his potential "buyer" tseng is panting and furious. the only thing that mollifies any of his anger is the fact that when he glares upward from under his disheveled hair, it's rufus with whom he locks eyes—thank ramuh, because if any other poor fool tried to buy him they would lose a hand for their trouble.
he can't say anything with the bit heavy on his tongue, but hopefully rufus can understand the rage in tseng's gaze as he holds rufus' eyes—an expression that says, very clearly, get me the fuck out of here. ]
cw: this one's going to get edgy, lads 👀
And, curiously, he had more of the handlers themselves, but they all seem to have disappeared. Strange.
But his answer quickly comes when not one, not two, but four of them emerge to haul his next prospect onto the show floor, thrashing and misbehaving and making them fight for every inch of ground they're able to gain. And that's the moment when his loose enjoyment evaporates, and his glass freezes just momentarily at his lips for the cover that he instinctively knows that drinking will provide. He doesn't need to see this one's long dark hair or powerful chest or the features hidden behind its obstructive muzzle to know who they've brought him. He would've known just from the fight, from the beauty and the danger of it.
It's Tseng. These fools decided to put his Tseng in chains.
Not so long ago, for the sake of a camera, they'd played at something like this before — Tseng beautiful and nude and subservient, Rufus lofty and extravagant and prideful. The demeanor that settles around Rufus now is nothing like the one he'd affected back then. There's no satisfaction reflected in his frigid blue eyes when they meet Tseng's. This isn't, after all, a game in any sense of the word.
And so this isn't the Rufus Shinra who in his time at the resort has learned to look forward to eggy bread breakfasts and sleepy mornings late in bed and soft sweaters in someone else's favorite color. This is the president of the corporation that owns the world, fresh off the helipad with only one thing that matters on his mind.]
I'd best not find a scratch on him.
[He sets his glass aside. Rises from his chair. His eyes never leave Tseng as he approaches where he's knelt, but that's as much to take stock of just how the staff had put their hands on him as it is to offer his own silent message of certainty.]
Tell me about acquisition and pedigree.
[Tseng, and only Tseng, is positioned to know how that statement really means dictate your own death warrant.]
hehehehe
as you can see his conformation is perfectly breed standard, although his behavior leaves something to be desired, one of the trainers says with a derisive glance at tseng, seemingly unaware of how closely he's treading to the edge of his demise. he'll need considerable training. we tried for the tail, but—
tseng does actually growl at that, but if rufus looks at him in response, he'll see the almost imperceptible shake of tseng's head, the only thing that might save all this idiots' lives. they tried, but tseng fought so hard that none of them managed to get anything inside him, and eventually they gave up on the task entirely. the muzzle and chains are humiliating in their own way, but there has been no deeper violation. small mercies.
ignoring tseng's poor behavior, the trainer continues, as for pedigree, truthfully, we don't know. he was... sourced unconventionally. (that is to say, kidnapped from the hallway.) we wanted to show him because of his appearance, but if he isn't to your standards we'll take him away. ]
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He draws close enough to touch, by now, his gaze landing lightly on each of the staff members around Tseng before finally resting on the trainer giving his oration — and drifting a little closer to him as if intending to engage in a lengthier conversation.]
He is beautiful. Though I'm surprised you find his training deficient — you three. Take three steps back. Let's see if he'll behave for me.
[Rufus waits quietly until they do in fact back off, creating a halo of perimeter around where Tseng is knelt — and in the back of his mind the assessment is racing: cuffs on his wrists and a bit in his mouth but he can move his arms and legs, Tseng doesn't need free motion of his arms to kill, the bonds are a formality when it's the numbers that kept him down —
And then in the moment when complacency has settled, when the dictating trainer's attention is sufficiently divided, Rufus's own arm moves quick as a viper — grasping two of the trainer's fingers and jerking them back until they break, with a sharp twist to pressure the wrist for good measure.
It happens fast. So fast that by the time the trainer is crying out, Rufus's icy words are already layered over it.]
You, on the other hand? I can see the immediate need for correction.
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still, he doesn't move. tseng is perfectly still, his head just slightly cocked as he gives rufus his full attention. the trainers move back as instructed, and tseng stays kneeling, listening to the way rufus speaks. beautiful, vicious, the cutting edge of a razor honed so fine the first slice doesn't even hurt. he hears rufus move, hears the sharp crunch of breaking bones and the pained cry that follows.
tseng takes it as a signal. he's on his feet before rufus is done talking, has one of the remaining three trainers laid out by a roundhouse kick to the temple before the other two even think to move. his hair is loose, which is irritating, but poses no barrier to tseng's efficient dispatch of the remaining staff members, who clearly were not prepared for a pet with this kind of training—he takes a second out at the knees, winds them with a blow to the sternum, and sends the third crashing into the wall so hard a photograph drops to the floor and shatters in its frame.
the last target is the one with broken fingers, now cowering away from rufus and tseng alike as he cradles his injured hand to his chest. tseng brings him to the floor, ignoring the renewed noises of pain and agitation as he catches himself on his broken fingers, and presses his knee to the back of the man's neck to hold him in place. it's not enough pressure to kill him; none of the injuries left behind in tseng's wake will be fatal, but they will be a painful reminder to choose their pets more wisely.
with a twitch of his head to get his hair out of his face, tseng looks up at rufus. he's breathing hard, a little sweaty from exertion, but otherwise perfectly collected as he waits for orders. he'll need considerable training, indeed. these poor fucks had no idea what they were in for. ]
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He himself makes a sharp contrast, too, to the agonized man on the floor: unhurried and almost serene as he moves over and reaches silently for the loose hair swept about Tseng's face, smoothing it back more neatly than a shake of the head would do and tucking it behind his ears as much out of quiet reassurance as out of practicality.]
Funny — he obeyed orders I didn't even speak aloud. So much for needing training.
[Rufus moves to where the last staff member is pinned, crouching down in a manner that's as much patronizing as to facilitate further discussion.]
You're going to beg his forgiveness for this insult. He's going to decide if you earn it. And if it takes you longer than ten seconds to satisfy him — well, there are roughly two hundred and six bones in the human body. I'm sure you'll figure it out before I've exhausted the other two hundred and four.
[His smile takes on a razor's edge, itself.]
Clock's ticking.
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were this midgar, tseng would put a bullet in the man's skull. but this isn't midgar, and although tseng has no compunctions about killing he doesn't want to find out what consequences might come down upon him and rufus if he were to leave a corpse behind in the resort's little playroom. his knee digs in, just for a moment—the staff member whimpers in fear—and then tseng releases him, stands, and takes a step back.
he holds out his wrists, offering the cuffs in a silent demand. maybe rufus will understand what he means by it: he can keep his life if he gets me out of these things. the muzzle too, but tseng thinks he can manage that one himself once he has his hands back. ]
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There was no room for theatrics when Tseng was on his knees in chains. Now that he's on his feet, willingly to openly set the terms for his own satisfaction, Rufus is a little more inclined to lean into the drama, if only for the sharp pleasure of playing interpreter.]
You're lucky. He's kinder than I am.
[A laughable prospect — maybe. Or maybe not. But either way, Rufus rises back to a standing position, reaching down and grasping a handful of the staff member's costume to drag him back largely upright as well. The one hand is mostly useless at this point, of course, but he's in one piece. Let him suffer.]
And I'm sure that you, your colleagues there, and all your other associates would never dream of inconveniencing such a kind, generous man with a misunderstanding like this ever again.
[As the staff member alternates between rapidly nodding in agreement with Rufus's dictated assessment and shaking his head frantically to negate the possibility of further interactions, Rufus waves his free hand idly toward Tseng's outstretched wrists until the man finally takes the hint that his groveling now needs to come accompanied by action.
It's clearly difficult for him to find the keys, but none of his associates are in any hurry to appear conscious, much less come to his rescue. Eventually, he finds the appropriate key and manages to fit it into the lock, twisting with shaking fingers until Tseng's hands come free.]
You'll make sure there are no repeat performances, of course. I assume you take my meaning? I'm trusting you to personally see to it.
[A thinly-veiled threat of accountability has never sounded so congenial.]
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the metal of it clangs when it hits the ground. the taste of metal is on his tongue, too, or maybe that's a little blood left over from having bitten his tongue. tseng spits on the floor, then lifts his wrists so he can rub at the places where the cuffs had dug in, leaving little marks behind in his skin. the gesture itself is enough to make the trainer flinch back visibly, which is how tseng knows the lesson has landed. ]
I'm sure he will, [ tseng says. his voice is low and quiet, but whipcrack-sharp in the otherwise silent room. ] Won't you.
[ the man nods frantically, babbling reassurances that are only half-coherent; tseng turns fractionally away, redirecting the full weight of his attention to rufus instead. the fight had been brief, but it soothes something in tseng to check rufus over and see that he's unharmed, that despite what these people had done to tseng they hadn't managed to get a single hand on rufus. ]
Sir. [ we shouldn't stay here, this place is not secure. tseng doesn't say it aloud, trusting rufus to read it in the incremental tilt of his head toward the door.
ostensibly it's for rufus' safety that tseng is so eager to leave that he'll forgo his own clothing in the name of getting the hell out of there—easier to lean on that than to admit that he himself is deeply unsettled. ]
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It's unbecoming of a Shinra to harbor regrets. There is no space, for who he is in this moment, to be sorry for anything. And yet in that fleeting flash of connected gazes, all the emotion walled off behind his flawless mask is there: anger and indignation and an aching frustration at the fact that he can't do as he wants, when what he wants is to tear apart any evidence that such a humiliation was ever visited on Tseng and crush any witnesses to the sight and wring out revenge bit by poisonous bit and somehow, somehow hope that it's enough to counterbalance how upset he is that it ever happened at all.
(A lever needs a fulcrum to move the world. How ineffectual it becomes without one.)
It's a lot, for a fleeting glance. But they're old pros at knowing what lurks behind each other's eyes, and a look is all it takes before it's gone again, and their course of action is decided.]
I'm tired of this. We're going.
[He doesn't wait before turning smartly on his heel and making for the door. A Shinra wouldn't, after all; it's the Turks who perform the last intimidations in the wake of his departure.
But by the time he's in the elevators, his coat is off and waiting in his hands — not a particularly acceptable substitute for proper clothing, but at least enough to cover Tseng up. And to wrap securely around him in a way that, right now, Rufus himself can't.]
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the next best thing is, of course, to get the fuck out of here. rufus turns on his heel to make for the door; tseng lingers for a scant handful of seconds, his unblinking glare resting on the cowering trainer for a little longer before he, too, turns to follow in rufus' wake. his hair tie is gone, and the unbound strands of it fall around his bare shoulders, but tseng doesn't feel any sort of chill, not when there's a lingering heat still coiled low in his belly, the smoldering coals of adrenaline and rage.
as far as the elevators, tseng follows two steps behind rufus just off his right hand, his customary and well-worn place at the shinra heir's side. that is, until the doors to the penthouse elevators slide shut behind them and rufus offers out his coat—which tseng takes and wraps around his shoulders, his cognizance of propriety between turk and president warring with the possessiveness of rufus as his boyfriend. ]
Thank you, [ tseng says, and, as the elevator begins to ascend, throws away what remains of his good breeding in favor of shoving rufus back against the wall (perhaps a little too hard) and sealing their mouths together in a hungry, punishing kiss.
it's a little fucked up, maybe, tseng thinks. that his fury has been subsumed entirely into desire, that his adrenaline has channeled itself into an aching erection that presses against rufus' hip as they kiss. it's just that—fuck, rufus would have killed for him, if tseng had wanted him to. he would have slit that trainer's throat for the sin of putting his hands on tseng and hell if that doesn't do it for tseng, if he doesn't feel half out of his mind, nearly feral with how badly he wants to fuck rufus right now. ]
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That's why, in a rare moment for him, he doesn't see it coming when Tseng puts him into the wall and covers him with his body, claims his mouth and steals his breath and transforms him back from marble to man, wide-eyed and disoriented from the immediacy of the transition.]
Tseng —
[He hears the thank you belatedly, like it's filtered down through water, and he's eerily hesitant in his movements as he lifts his hands and presses the flats of his palms to the front of Tseng's coat-covered shoulders. He doesn't push him away — could never push him away, not ever but especially not after everything that's happened — but the touch is moderating, almost. Responsible. Tender.
Tseng is hard. He's hard, and bare, and wearing his coat, and kissing him breathless and it's all so fast that he doesn't want to breathe and swallow and stop but there's a rare protective hook in him that drags until he listens.]
I need your status. Are you drugged? Hurt?
[Not "injured", conspicuously — "hurt". And Shiva, Tseng's hair is loose, so much for being responsible — it's barely an instant before his fingers are woven through the silken black strands, not just possessive but selfish in how he knows what a privilege it is to touch them.]
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he shakes his head minutely, not enough to dislodge rufus' hands, and says, ] I'm fine. My only injury is to my pride.
[ and he has no reason to lie to rufus about that. he wouldn't lie to rufus either way, tseng being what he is and rufus being who he is. but there was no aphrodisiac, and other than the slight ache where the cuffs bit into his wrists, tseng is completely unharmed.
but it's understandable that rufus asks. it's out of character for tseng to be so openly avaricious, least of all when moments before they were slotted perfectly into their respective roles. he doesn't entirely understand it, either, only knows that the thought of rufus being willing to spill blood for him makes him feel like he's losing his fucking mind. tseng leans forward to press his nose into rufus' cheekbone, drags his lips along the line of rufus' jaw, breathes in the scent of soap and the warmth of rufus' skin. ]
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free play
So, after
girlbossing too close to the suntrying her luck one too many times and getting caught by an attendant, she has found herself here in the kennels to be passed off to a "trainer" for "discipline." The black leather collar and leash aren't entirely unfamiliar to her; nor is being dressed up in lingerie for inspection by a potential customer. The ears, though? Those are new.As one of the staff hands her leash over to Rufus, she tips her head back to give him an ironic look. ]
Ruff, ruff. Don't listen to them, I'm already housebroken.
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[The woman on the end of the leash isn't the first that Rufus has been presented with since he'd arrived in the playroom; at this point, there's no telling whether she'll be the last. The staff seems to have caught on that he has a preference for long dark hair, at least. It remains to be seen how else she aligns with his interests — or otherwise.
Without missing a beat, he twists the leash in one hand and reaches beneath her chin to tilt her face up with the other, guiding it side to side as he examines the structure of her features. He's wise enough not to put his thumb close enough to her lips to pull them back and check her teeth, at least not yet; too many candidates to date have come out spirited and sought to bite.]
You know what I'm after. What makes you think she meets my requirements?
[That much, at least, seems to be directed toward the staff that's still lingering around.]
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"Me, I'd say untrained, personally," [ the staffer says, with a shrug. ] "But you can see she's more biddable than a lot of what we've got coming through here. And we do apologize again for the, um ..." [ They make a biting motion with their fingers. ]
"Anyway, what was I going to say -- right, if you're looking for a show pet, I think she's got a lot of potential. Bright eyes, good posture, seems like she'll learn fast. And she was sure ready to show off in the onsen, weren't you?"
[ Bella's eyes cut over to the staffer, then back to Rufus. She opens her mouth, then closes it and cocks her head at him inquisitively. There's speaking when spoken to, and then there's speaking when spoken to by him. She's certain there's a difference. ]
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[The ears match well enough, and it's not as though she's not pretty. Half the fun of the exercise is playing the discerning buyer, however, so it's not as though he's inclined to end the charade too early.
Fortunately for the girl, his attention comes back to her next.]
Did you volunteer for this, or were you acquired some other way? Speak.
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I was given several options for breaking the rules, and I liked this one best. I volunteered.
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[The staff are still milling around, watching this back-and-forth with idle anxiety, but Rufus's attention is largely on his prize by this point.]
What rule did you break?
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Sex in the baths. I'm new. I could use the chips.
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[He pauses, looking her over carefully one more time. It's not as though he doesn't already know what he's going to say next; the point is just to make her wait on it.]
One set, at least. Rule breakers don't have the temperament for show pets. But you've got the looks; it's easy enough to breed for the rest.
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"So, you've come to a decision?" [ puts in the staffer, hovering closer. ] "If you want to spend a little more time with her, see how she responds to motivation, or if there's any questions we can answer ... We do try and make sure it's a good fit."
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[He snaps his fingers, arm descending in a practiced motion that suggests he's absolutely familiar with signaling to real canines before, and waits to see if she'll move.]
Better one that's craving sex to begin with. It'll make the rest of it simpler.
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A split-second decision: he's put her in the role of untrained, rule-breaking bitch. She'll let that be her guide. Not too bratty, but a little puppyish unruliness. What other commands do most dogs know?
She doesn't move, or speak. Instead, she cocks her head and sticks out her hand. Paw. Whatever. Shake? ]