thisclockworkheart | Golden Peacock Inbox & Open Season App

Golden Peacock Inbox & Open Season App

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

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES

.03 SHOWER OR BATH

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS

.05 TITS OR ASS

.06 COFFEE OR TEA

.07 SPICY OR SWEET

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER

.09 LEATHER OR LACE

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX

Personality Type
INFP-T

ENERGY64%
Introverted
MIND62%
Intuitive
NATURE78%
Feeling
TACTICS63%
Prospecting
IDENTITY54%
Turbulent

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

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

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

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?

A Stalker? What sort of work does that entail?

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.

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.

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".]

[ 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?

Harra fruit.

[ 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?

[ 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 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. ]

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Details

text from @fullofsurprises

✔, @sanlang / audio

✔ un: forestwatcher

video; @cerberus

text; un:tartaglia

text from @fullofsurprises, end of Jan

march event, action

Text; un: Cerberus