Golden Peacock Inbox & Open Season App

[thisclockworkheart]

6♥ [SIX of HEARTS]
UN: pinocchio
AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ TEXT ✧ ACTION

OPEN SEASON

@pinocchio
20 / male / unknown / 6♥

About Photos Questions Personality Compatibility

Details

My Self-Summary

The strong and silent type who doesn't like to brag! Or say much of anything. I'm sure this delicious snack has lots to say once you break through his dashingly wooden and icy exterior!

He says he's a stalker -- not that we judge, honey! We all have our vices!

Small correction, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals. A Stalker is a vocation, something about mercenary work.

My Future Plans

This cherry boy is single and ready to mingle!

My Talents

He plays the piano and says he's good with a sword. He even expressed interest in finding a few like-minded sparring partners! You know that that means, he's great with his hands and one of them is! Metal! A! F!

Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food

(This space, perhaps intentionally, has been left blank.)

My Ideal Partner

(No information. Perhaps the original drafter of this post abandoned it halfway through.)

Height 5'10" / 177cm Body Type Lithe, some muscle Smokes When overheating? Drinks Unknown Drugs Unknown Sign Unknown Education Unknown Occupation Stalker Income Unknown Children N/A Pets A cat named Spring Hobbies Music, playing piano, reading

art credit: one. two. three. four. five.

01. WINE OR BEER

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.03 SHOWER OR BATH

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.05 TITS OR ASS

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.06 COFFEE OR TEA

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.07 SPICY OR SWEET

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER

NO ANSWER GIVEN

.09 LEATHER OR LACE

AN ANSWER! BOTH.

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX

NO ANSWER GIVEN

Personality Type
INFP-T

ENERGY

64%

Introverted

MIND

62%

Intuitive

NATURE

78%

Feeling

TACTICS

63%

Prospecting

IDENTITY

54%

Turbulent

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

Obviously, Pinocchio had little to no input on this app.

Comments

text from @fullofsurprises

[sleepyone]

Oh, cherry boy is a cute nickname. Did the House give you that title?

[thisclockworkheart]

I'm not sure about the House, but the kind member of staff I spoke with seemed fond of it.

[ Pinocchio is being teased. He can tell. He may not know that he's being teased for his complete lack of sexual experience, but he's not giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing they're bothering him. Not while that smirking staffer is still watching.

Well, it can't hurt to put on a show of playing along. ]

Are you full of surprises? Or did the House come up with that?

[sleepyone]

I'm fond of it now too, cherry boy.

[she loves a teasing nickname, but maybe she'll come up with something better for him as they go along.]

I definitely am! A fellow player (and VERY handsome gentleman!) suggested it to me and I like it quite a lot for myself.

✔, @sanlang / audio

[juhua]

I wonder if they meant to compare you to food as often as they did...

[ based on the phrasing, hua cheng is guessing the profile was written by someone other than the poster. (for the record, he also doesn't know what a cherry boy is...) ]

I take it you weren't responsible for these contents?

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Airily: ] Perhaps he's hungry.

[ If the puppet pretends he isn't annoyed for long enough, he's hoping the staffer will get bored of waiting for a reaction and wander off to bother someone else. His next question is obvious sarcasm: ] What gave me away?

[juhua]

Oh, I don't know. Just a feeling.

[ his tone in response is equally wry. in general hua cheng supports the purposeful irritation of staff members etc., but these ones do seem to have more patience than most. ]

If you have the time to take a walk, I'd be interested in hearing more about your sword work.

[ translation: hua cheng will give him an excuse to escape the watchful eyes of the resort staff, if he wants. ]

✔ un: forestwatcher

[veardant]

A Stalker? What sort of work does that entail?

[thisclockworkheart]

Mercenary work. As a bodyguard, to solve a problem, to find something. There aren't many left.

[veardant]

Interesting.. so something like an adventurer would be, where I'm from, though perhaps a little more specialized. Adventurers are quite common in Teyvat. It sounds like you're a rare commodity, then.

video; @cerberus

[armwriostle]

Hey. [Usually he would stick to either text or audio, but he thinks it's important the other see who's contacting him. Wriothesley looks a lot better now. He's not flushed nor sweating. His clothes were nice and neat. Instead of the grey waistcoat, he was wearing a wine red one.

He isn't here to make things awkward though so he huffs a little and tilts his head to the side.] You interested in getting a cup of tea? I think we started on the wrong foot.

[Whether or not Pinocchio thought he might actually just toss him aside, he wasn't going to. Not when he was at fault. Not when he had to make up for his fuck ups. Sure, whatever the house did put him in such a state, but it was his fault and he had to live with his actions.] It's my treat, of course. Only the best hospitality I can offer.

[thisclockworkheart]

[ The wine red suits his complexion, the salt and pepper coloration of his hair. The video catches him, lips parted in surprise, though he recovers composure quickly.

So he hadn't been trying to mollify him, when he said he'd prefer a chat over tea. As he looks at his watch, his metal fingers splay out over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath them. The question he asks is a compassionate one. ]

If you're trying to make up for the last time we met, I hold no grudge.

[ Still. ]

Nevertheless. It'll be my pleasure.

[armwriostle]

[He waves his hand dismissively.] Whether or not you hold a grudge doesn't change the fact that it was rather unbecoming of me to do that. I also don't want you to think you were nothing more than an object to satisfy me. [Wriothesley knows what it's like to be thought of nothing more than some prized meat. The last thing he wanted to do was to make someone else feel that they were nothing more than something to be used by him.

He smiles though.] You are surely much more than that.

[And Wriothesley will always look forward to company and tea.] Do you know where the Early Bird Hall is? I saw a little cafe that does an afternoon tea service, so why don't we meet there?

text; un:tartaglia

[abyssmade]

I see you also got struck with the whole "someone wrote this for me" business. Annoying, isn't it?

That said, if you really ARE looking for sparring partners, I'm your man.

[thisclockworkheart]

I can live with it.

[ Tartaglia, an archetype of commedia dell'arte. As someone who scarcely had time to read, too busy fighting to save Krat, he doesn't know from which well this idea springs, but the whisper in his mechanical heart is unmistakable.

He does not seem like someone who speaks with uncertainty. ]

Are you? I welcome the challenge. I've heard there's a space reserved for training. Are you familiar with it?

text from @fullofsurprises, end of Jan

[sleepyone]

Redline.



[No more than that, she wants to see what he'll say, first. Will he think that means "stay away"? Because she means "come hither".]

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Ever since he left a certain other J on read recently, it's seemed as though whatever things that go bump in the night below the basement have taken up residence in the tiny matchbox of a room assigned to him.

This time, he found his mattress flipped up against one wall and all his clothes scattered on the floor. He's a little late in looking at his Watch as he hangs the last of them up and sits on a bed that, otherwise, just serves as cushioned storage.

Confused, he looks around his tiny room. Why would she be warning him, he hasn't crossed her path—

Oh. Did... she mean to send this to him? Marina is getting a call. ]

march event, action

[kinnie]

[ cloud's ears shine a brassy gold, the curvature of his tail swaying idly -- the anxiety he had normally been so keen to repress and tuck away beneath the veil of stoicism pricks and prods at his newfound features. there are twitches, fur rippling and shifting, as he ambles down the hall.

he's striding up the pathway to daan's room -- the hall reserved for 7s, a far cry from the basement and the middling floors. heat coils in the pit of his stomach, unsatisfied; there's this urge, this desire to curl into someone, to relish their each and every touch.

he sees pinocchio. his throat dries, and his thoughts stray. his body works against him -- and he draws closer, nearer, watchful eyes settling onto his skin. ]

...Pinocchio. [ he mutters. ] You've-- You been okay? Everything's... kind of crazy right now, yeah?

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Cloud always catches the eye, Pinocchio knows he's not the only one to notice, and it takes every ounce of his restraint to not curl his lip in a snarl at every head that swivels to look admiringly on when Cloud has passed them on his way. Cloud is his friend — and friendship doesn't mean ownership, but possessiveness needles at him in any case.

He'd deduced that Cloud would come by this way, and now that he sees him, his likewise genially stoic expression is not a reliable barometer of his mood. Now that he sees him, all seems rosy.

The bushy dark brown tail behind him, presently swishing in a fluid, s-like motion behind his legs, tells on him. Playful, or anticipatory in a benign way. Fuzzy, wolfish ears pricked atop his head, too, and his more typical ones presently plugged up with what looks like wads of cotton (it gets very confusing listening with an extra pair.) ]

Cloud. I see they got you, too, [ clearly, he doesn't need to point out their new attachments. A sleek, swaying tail, triangular, smooth-furred ears. He's no orange-and-white cat like Spring, but Pinocchio can recognize a feline's traits anywhere. The puppet wonders if his hair will be as soft, drawn closer by a pull that's always been there, just harder to resist.

Near enough to touch, he takes it further, stepping well into his personal space and nosing close to the line of his jaw, catching his scent, just before a customary bisous to first one cheek. The other, too, if he can get away with it. ] I'm fine. What about you?

Text; un: Cerberus

[armwriostle]

Harra fruit.

[thisclockworkheart]

Where are you? Can you speak freely?

NSFW tdm overflow @silicone

[thisclockworkheart]

[ continued from here ]

[ Since the resort introduced him to pleasure, Pinocchio's has drank deep whenever someone he trusts has more on the offing. That is to say, he only has a few cards, but each of them is precious, a memory he cherishes. He's even sought to remind himself, tugging on his own cock in the privacy of his meager basement quarters. It never feels as sublime as this, when Eiden's clever fingers take him into hand and work him with such practiced skill.

He sighs, a shivering exhale. The sensation threatens to steal his attention, but he can't ignore how hot and needy Eiden feels in his grip, how slick and perfect he fits as he strokes him, slow, indulgent. Guided toward the day bed, he keeps going, until Eiden won't have a choice but to let go when his calves meet the edge of the furniture and Pinocchio's hand pushes against his chest, toppling him backward. ]

I'll let you, [ he promises, nudging Eiden's legs apart with a knee as he starts to crowd him in against the mattress, one knee, then the other. His generous cock still stands proud and flushed, pushed aside by the beach briefs hugging his hips, and his thumb hooks into the elastic fabric, pulling it down and behind the bare, tight balls hugging the root of his interest.

The puppet must know how this accentuates it, his smile, watching Eiden look at him, is warm with awareness. He wants him to look. To touch and enjoy. All he can give him is his body, so it pleases him that Eiden wants. Both hands descend on his chest, painting twin paths — cool on one side, warm on the other — down over the contours of his bare torso, to the sharps of his hips, over slender thighs. They push inward as they move back up, climbing the insides of thighs he holds open between his knees. ]

I'll let you feel me inside you, too. [ Bending down, he presses a kiss to the crest of bone where collarbone points towards his shoulder, then another, lower, around the peak of one nipple. The dark tumble of his hair tickles over his skin, when he tilts his chin to peer through it up at him. ] You want that, don't you?

woo yeah woo yeah woo yeah yeah woo time woo yeah!!

[silicone]

[ falling back is something he didn't account for, especially as a hand pushes him off balance. it's easy enough, considering the heat blooming through him, the arousal pushing up in all the right places. he makes a soft noise as he lands, fingers pulling to the tip of pinocchio's very generous cock, eyes trailing over the shape of it, how it strains (for him? for him, maybe. he hopes. he whines at the thought: his.)

his eyes flick upwards to meet p's face, his expression wanting, adoring - and it isn't just the food that's gotten to him, it's the overwhelming feeling of being back from that cold place he doesn't remember. now he's in reverse, on fire, wanting, anything but stone, so he gasps as hands touch him, climb down his supple body. he arches up into his nipples pebbling at sensation, sensitive, warm handfuls for p' to grasp onto before sliding down his waist and hips. ]

I do - I want you... inside, against, with me...

[ it's decadent, the contrast of warm palm and cool palm, but it's clear he doesn't shy away from it. (blade is cool to the touch, his mouth hot, his body a weapon that weighs heavily over him, for him - but he'd never treat him as such. it's not a foreign concept to him.) he's lost in a brief moment of thought until he realizes his thighs are pushed open, kees high and held open, inspecting.

inside. at the word, his hole twitches in anticipation, a bead of essence-laden slick already seeping out past his entrance. he's wet already, and whining now as lips find his collar, sternum, his chest. as the kiss strikes dead center of his nipple, he tips his head back, crown touching the daybed as he languishes every moment the other isn't inside of him.

(get ahold of yourself, he begs, but he can't. his hands find pinocchio's cock, tugging it closer to his hole, the other raking through the dark tresses of pinocchio's hair as he meets his eyes, his own blown wide and feverish. the necklace around his throat, looped twice with luminescent gem caught atop the rising and falling of his adam's apple, seems to flicker brightly in turn, his essence sharp and fluctuating. ]

I want you, [ the other hand tangles, strands in between his knuckles. ] please... kiss me...

delivery, backdated to Christmas

[stagesight]

[ In front of his door, Pinocchio will find a... well, the wrapping job leaves a little to be desired, but it's a small box and opening it will reveal a snow globe! But the "snow" consists of little white, glittering cogs, mixed in with more snowflake-like shapes.

Included is a note: ]

Pinocchio,

Thank you, for calling out to me that day. I think I would have had a much more difficult time adjusting to this place, had it not been for you extending your hand. This isn't much, but it did make me think of you when I saw it.

I truly hope that one day, the stories we can tell each other will be kinder ones, or perhaps that we can write our own.

Sincerely,

Hamel

a wintertime gift.

[silicone]

[ a deep navy package with soft white and light blue ribbons brought to pinocchio's suite:

inside among the tissue paper lay two things: the first is a pair of gloves, dark blue suede that has been waterproofed, lined warm on the inside and sewn with care to pinocchio's measurements, made just for him. on the right palm is an embroidered heart in threads of gold and red. the gloves themselves are made by hand with care.

the second is beneath that and wrapped in paper, is an elegant hair clip polished to a gold shine, meant to keep errant hair out of one's face. It has a small heart carefully engraved into the underside of it like a reminder. ]

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Touched doesn't even begin to describe the intensity of sentiment he feels when he realizes that both gloves fit perfectly, even his prosthetic one.

...But expect to see him wearing the hair clip all the time — but not as intended. More like rakishly attached to one side of his shirt collar, clipped to the knot of a cravat, or as a tie clip. Eiden's gift-giving game is, as usual, a smashing success. ]