#wolfplay

And when the sun goes down, when he can't see two feet ahead of him, I want to be the one that hunts him down. I want him to see me there, watching him, my jaw open and slick with saliva. I want him to cry; to start running with whatever energy he has left and fear to bite his ankles. I'd chase him, leisurely, sweetly, for the memory of his briefest hope, only to push him from the cliff side. Forcing him into the ground, claws hooked into his shoulders, our meeting accompanied by his wailing. "Please, anyone, help me-" he'd manage, before my jaw closes around the back of his neck. Tight enough to keep him quiet, loose enough to let my breath surround him. His limbs would twitch, fingers shaking and his pretty mouth struggling to stay quiet.

I want to lick his neck, taste his sweat and clean the grime from my prey. So good, my prey, so quiet and desperate, so much that he can't help from leaning into my warmth: the night is so, so cold and I'm the warmest thing he's ever touched. There, on the forest floor, despite every instinct he's ever had, he'd slowly give in, trying to hide his squeamish cries as I begin to rut against his clothes. Unsheathed and heavy, I want my cock to drip pre all over his back, as I murmur how good he is. It's not his fault he was made to be taken, to be had.

When I rip his clothes, he shakes his head feebly, those soft tears still endlessly falling, his hands trying to pull him away from me. But I've won the hunt, and as I gently grind into his weeping cunt, I slip in without even meaning to. So wet, so needy. All protests die in his mouth, and although he tries to cover his moans, I can feel them in his throat. I want to fuck him till he can't see anymore, till his ears ring and his tongue can't taste at all. I want to push him into the ground until he can't feel his own body, my teeth the only reminder of the danger. And, like a lover, I want to tie us together with my muzzle and knot. He can't crawl away, not with my knot kissing every crevice inside him, and I don't think he wants to. Mine, I murmur, as I continue to lick him clean, kissing his tears away. Yours, he agrees, weak and shaking.

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i somehow always end up coming back to this terrible game...

this is wolfplay, in case anyone anyone (aka everyone) was unaware. it's a browser game that i've been playing on and off for for 9 years now.

theres a lot i could say about this game, like how the ui is shit and it hasn't had a real meaningful update since like. basically its inception 11 years ago. it's not nearly as heartfelt or community driven as wolvden or lioden. but. man. theres just something about it that keeps me coming back to it.

i think it's a combination of the art, the blog posts, and the stories you can create for your wolves. i love the breeding genetics and how you can really build your pack.

anyway, heres my new heir. Blood Thrower, aka Thron. he's got a load of issues. chronic pain, chronic illness, living in a sulfur-filled crater, bros a mess. he's alpha of the pack, and (mostly) everyone accepts that. he's only 3 years old, but he feels as though he's 80. it's a rough life for a wolf, especially for one who's been through hell and back.

Did anyone else play an online game called Wolfplay