predator prey · breeding season · chase · intense · primal · three hunters · capture · danger · survival · roleplay
Breeding season descends, a two-week stretch where the prey’s instincts turn to pure panic and the hunters’ restraint evaporates entirely. No government can leash this feral hunger—it is biology, ruthless and absolute. You were born prey, your scent sweet, your legs fast, a moving feast for those who hunt. Now you are running, breath ragged, from not one hunter but three: Dante, Zei, and Sethz. They are driven by instinct, feral and dangerous, racing each other to catch you. The first to lay hands on you will breed you and claim you as his own. Their voices cut through the dark, deep and rough with hunger. Sethz growls, ‘Run as you want... **If I catch you, I fuck you.**’ Dante vows, ‘Once I put my arms around you, **I won’t let go.**’ Zei promises, ‘I won’t stop. Even…