pardon me for a second i just have some. Thoughts i need to get out. about. dwigh t.
hrbfhfng making out with him and then pulling him onto your lap.. then you start palming him through his jeans and he moans into the kiss. the longer you palm him, the needier he gets, so he whines and tries to let you know.
so you slide your hand down his boxers and gently stroke him to relieve some pressure but he's So Needy that he bucks his hips up and tries to thrust into your hand. you chuckle, but of course, you're not here to tease him (much) so you speed up your hand.
h. and then pushing him onto his back and finally removing both his jeans and boxers. now pulling him to the edge of whatever surface you're on (mattress/couch/etc) and lowering to your knees before taking his cock into your mouth.
he is probably whimpering and whining the whole time godddd. (#Need That) especially if you grab his hips and thrust him deeper into your mouth (he also might do this on his own, though more as a reflex rather than trying to throat fuck), or if you trail your tongue along his length before circling it around his tip just to tease him..
don't even get me started on how embarrassed he'd be when he cums, especially if it was relatively quick / faster than normal. his face would be So Red. (mainly because he's used to giving, rather than receiving, oral and he hasn't had a chance to build up endurance) and him laying there with his shirt unbuttoned and tie undone/chest exposed (but the shirt still on his shoulders, tie messily hanging around his neck) and his glasses all fogged up as he's gripping the closest surface (whether it be the sheets, arm rest, or even you)
weh.. and he feels like he has to apologize for it, so you trail kisses up his chest before landing one on his lips. then you wrap your arms around him and tell him there's nothing to apologize for and tell him how he was such a good boy for you and how he did so well.
(bonus points if, instead, he feels like he needs to make up for it and it leads to edging and seeing how long he can take you without cumming...)
Note: LESBIANS ASSEMBLE!! Kicking off the Kinktober remasters, we have a fic that all my wlw friends have been eagerly waiting for me to fix up! Once I finish the other remasters, I will be picking up where I left off on my 2020 list. :)
The Huntress x AFAB!Reader
SMUT
Contains: Mommy kink, Sexual inexperience, Semi-public masturbation, Fingering
You sigh as you dump the heavy stack of books from your arms onto the nearest surface, recoiling in disgust as a cloud of dust puffs out from the impact. Filing away a mental note to clean the place again later, you brush the grime off the front of your shirt and scan over your stolen goods. The Entity wasn’t one to listen to your requests for rewards – only ever giving you the typical med kit or flashlight for trials well done – so you had to resort to striking out on your own to find what you wanted.
Thankfully, Springwood had plenty of books scattered about, all in a good variety of reading levels for the goal you had in mind. Your finger traces the worn spines, lips silently shaping around the titles – The Kissing Hand, The Giving Tree, A Light in the Attic, James and the Giant Peach, Scholastic Children’s Dictionary, and a few too tattered to name. Satisfied with the collection you’ve gathered, you shift your attention to the rest of the cabin, ears straining for the telltale sound of the homeowner.
As if on cue, a soft humming drifts from one of the rooms upstairs, accompanied by the shrill scrape of metal being sharpened. An immediate sense of comfort washes over you at the sound of the familiar tune, and you cheerily make your way up the stairs towards the source.
“Honey bunny! I’ve got something for you!” You call out, chuckling to yourself as the humming immediately stops and is replaced by excited footsteps thumping out of the room at the end of the hall. Anna rounds the corner in a rush, her maskless face coming into view as she gives you a sweet, glowing grin.
“Малышка!” She bolts to you, scooping you up in her arms and nuzzling the strong bridge of her nose against your cheek. “You okay? No hurt?” She holds you away from her body, the muscles in her arms shifting as she lifts you to inspect your figure.
You giggle as you dangle in her grasp, feet floating a couple inches off the floor. “I’m alright. I found some more books for you! You wanna come downstairs and check them out?”
She giddily jumps up and down with you still in the air, causing you to grasp onto her biceps in a panic as the floorboards beneath her groan in protest. “Да! Да! Thank you Моя сладкая.” A flurry of loud smooches are pressed to your cheeks before she gently lowers you to your unsteady feet and races down the stairs with your wrist engulfed in her massive hand.
The way her face lights up at the sight of the books makes the tiresome journey to collect them worth the effort. Her finger traces the titles just as yours had mere minutes ago, her brows knitting together as she struggles with sounding out the titles. You gaze at her in adoration as the English syllables catch and roll off her tongue like rocks down a waterfall. This was only your third time bringing back books for her, so you anticipated her difficulties with pronunciation.
The first time had been completely unintentional – you’d found a copy of Frankenstein in Raccoon City and had brought it to the cabin as a means of entertaining yourself between trials. Anna had found you curled up reading under the candlelight, settling by your side as she curiously scanned the pages full of unfamiliar words. She was incredibly eager to learn your language so she could communicate easier with you, but you quickly found that the story wasn’t well suited for the purpose of teaching her. So, racking your brain for locations where books had been present, you’d set out with a new goal in mind – find books easy enough to teach your girlfriend English.
You made a lucky first pick with Midwich Elementary, managing to find a couple of intact copies of stories meant for younger children. You dedicated your free time to going through the books with Anna, patiently guiding her through the pronunciation and meaning of the words until she was able to read them on her own. She’d probably read through each of the stories over twenty times over the course of the month, so you had decided it was time to expand the collection.
Anna picks up The Kissing Hand, already familiar with the words in the title and captivated by the illustration of the raccoons on the cover. She holds it up to you expectantly, beaming as you take it from her and flip to the first page. “You want to go through this one first, love?” She hums in agreement, getting comfy in her usual reading chair and watching with bright eyes as you sit next to her with the book spread over both your laps.
You listen as Anna slowly reads it aloud, occasionally breaking the flow to correct her pronunciation or explain a new word to her. The story progresses at a snail’s pace, but you don’t mind – you’re too enraptured by Anna’s lovely voice and the overwhelming sense of pride to feel any frustration.
As she reaches the middle of the story, her voice catches on a new word, lips struggling to find the shape of it. “Mmm… Mohmoo?” Your eyes fall to the page, searching for the word giving her trouble.
“Ah, it’s pronounced ‘Mommy’ – mah-mee.” She looks at you with slight confusion, prompting you to explain the word. “You know the word mother, yes?” She nods. “Mommy is just another word for that, it’s mostly used by children to refer to their mother.”
Recognition immediately becomes evident on her face, eyes sparkling with pure joy as she presses a large fingertip to your chest. “If you baby, Малышка, then I am Mommy.” She points to herself with a proud smile.
Your eyes widen, a burning flush making its way across your face and chest. This type of thing wasn’t new; when she’d learned the words mother and baby, she consistently talked about the two of you using those titles. You’d never had an issue with it, playing along with the dynamic to a certain extent as you found it endearing. But this? Her calling herself Mommy? You don’t know why, but it shoots a lick of filthy heat through your spine, making your head spin with sudden desire.
Anna coos at the shocked look on your face, pinching your warm cheek as she admires your bizarre reaction. “My baby, so cute! What wrong?”
You freeze at her touch, embarrassment rolling through you in tides. Sure, you’d experienced lustful feelings towards your girlfriend before, it was only natural. But to experience it over her simply saying a word related to her innocent perception of your relationship? You internally kick yourself, ready to keel over and die on the spot from the overwhelming shame.
“It’s nothing, Anna. You just sound nice saying it-” You immediately pause, internally kicking yourself again for speaking without thinking as you notice the spark of joy in her eye flare up into obsession at your words. A wicked smile splits her face as she cradles your cheek in her palm.
“I say it more then, for you baby. From now on, I am Mommy.” You didn’t think it was possible to blush even more, but your body proves you wrong as the tingling heat spreads from your scalp to your toes in response to the word. You can’t help the pathetic whine that slips from your lips as a needy pulse settles low in your stomach.
Anna chuckles at that and plants a gentle kiss to your forehead before turning her attention back to the book. She continues to read as if nothing had happened, paying no mind to your squirming, sweating figure beside her. You find it near impossible to pay attention to her reading, failing to correct a couple of her mistakes as your mind is overtaken by a heady haze. The deep ache and steadily growing wetness between your legs becomes a terrible distraction, and you find that shifting your thighs together does little to relieve you of it.
You’re ripped out of your trance as Anna shuts the book with a loud clap and a cheery shout of “Done! I like, good book.” You offer her a sheepish smile, barely able to look at her radiant face without losing your composure. “Good job, you did great! Your English is improving a lot.”
She puffs out her chest in pride before casting a devious side eye at you, the deep umber of her irises glittering with mischief in the candlelight. “Good job, who?”
You almost give yourself whiplash as you snap to meet her eyes, reading her face for any sign that this might be a joke – there’s no way she actually expects you to say it, right? Her only response is to stare at you expectantly, tilting her head in a way that she knows makes your heart flutter uncontrollably. “Good job… Mommy.” You relent, your voice coming out a strained squeak as humiliation chokes your vocal cords.
Anna hums contentedly and scoops you up in a bridal carry, pressing a soft kiss to your hand like the raccoons in the book had done as she heads for the stairs. “Good baby.” The combination of her touch and praise doesn’t help your situation at all – another gush of slick adding to the uncomfortable mess in your underwear.
She makes her way upstairs to your shared room, gently setting you on the bed before sliding in next to you and tucking you both under the warm fur pelts. You want to protest, knowing that you’re far too riled up to even attempt sleep, but you detest the idea of having to explain your predicament to your unaware partner.
“Rest, Моя сладкая. You walk far.” She turns your body so she can spoon you, the iron weight of her arm over you snuffing out any thoughts you might’ve had about sneaking away to solve your problem and only serving to stoke the fire in your gut higher. You let out a resigned sigh, doing your best to get comfortable despite every nerve in your body screaming for release.
Anna drifts off with ease, her soft snores tickling the nape of your neck. You lay in her grasp wide awake, staring at the wall as you grapple with the arousal that gnaws at you like a starving dog. Knowing that you can’t do anything to soothe your need, and you certainly can’t ask Anna to assist, is driving you mad.
You’d only been with Anna a couple months now, but it became very evident very early into the relationship that Anna had no knowledge of anything sexual. She’d told you a bit about her upbringing through broken English and charades, and it was pretty clear that her mother was only concerned with teaching her survival skills in the short time they’d been together – she didn’t even know how to kiss, you had to teach her how. The thought that you would have to be the one to teach her sex ed if you wanted things to go further was mortifying, so you’d been holding off on it. Instead, you opted to chase release when your beloved left for trials, or pop a quick orgasm in the woods when you knew she was too busy to look for you.
You huff through your nose in irritation, glaring at the wall as if it has somehow wronged you. The frustration and lack of intimate touch has really started to eat away at your stubborn willpower. You know you’ll eventually have to teach her about sex if you truly want to be satisfied, but the daunting thought of taking your girlfriend’s remaining innocence quells your motivation once more. With a frown etched onto your face, you reluctantly do your best to fall asleep.
You regret not keeping your traitorous mouth shut. Anna has stayed true to her word, saying Mommy anytime the occasion calls for it.
“Baby, help Mommy with this?”
“Stay safe for Mommy!”
“Mommy loves you, Малышка.”
Much to your dismay, apparently she thinks you sound nice saying it as well, forcing you to call her Mommy when addressing her. God forbid you need anything, because she won’t oblige until you say the magic word.
“Anna, could you please get some more firewood for me?”
“Try again, baby.”
“... Could you please get firewood, Mommy?”
Every instance is torture, the word evoking a burning in your cheeks and loins no matter how many times you hear and speak it. You know you’re being dramatic, but you feel like this is going to be your demise – teaching Anna English was a terrible idea.
Your arousal has become an everpresent force, the weight of it constantly hanging to your bones and sucking the energy from your flesh. As if the Entity knows your predicament and is taunting you, you find yourself in a seemingly endless stretch of trials with barely any breathing room between. Any hope of getting yourself off to relieve the incessant throbbing between your legs is completely crushed by the lack of free time.
You find yourself totally useless in the trials, mind practically numbed out to nothing more than horny sludge. Objectives are pretty much impossible to complete as your brain and body lag off into unholy thoughts, leading to generators blowing up in your face and killers making an easy sacrifice of you. You were usually resourceful enough to escape trials with ease, so dying this often is unusual for you, and the stress of it is only adding to your frustration.
Just as you feel your tolerance beginning to crack, as if the Entity has heard your desperate plea to ‘please god just let me get off before I lose my shit PLEASE’, you finally catch a decent break. You thank whatever god will listen when you return to the cabin to find Anna too busy with stitching up hides to notice your arrival. Sighing in relief, you head out into the forest, taking the familiar path to your usual guilty hideout.
The tension in your frame noticeably lessens when you arrive, slinking under the low branches of a tree so that you can wedge yourself into the shaded spot between its trunk and a nearby bush. It provides just enough cover that you can do what you need to do without being easily spotted by Anna or any prying eyes.
You shimmy your shorts down to your ankles, hissing as you run a finger over your clothed clit. It pulses into the touch, absurdly reactive after going unstimulated for so long. The fabric of your underwear is already soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to your slick folds. You dip your fingers under the waistband, stifling a whimper at the way your clit throbs under your bare fingertips. Lightning shocks of pleasure dance across your nerves, the sensation from even just a light touch already sending your mind reeling.
You still for a moment before you can get too carried away, ears straining for disturbances nearby – the only sounds that greet you are the homely hum of wind through the trees and the soft patter of rain upon leaves overhead. Reassured by the lack of an audience, you start off slow, dipping down to your entrance to wet your fingertips and gliding them in small circles around your clit. Your teeth worry at your lower lip, fighting to contain the soft gasps and moans that threaten to spill forth so as to not risk giving away your position.
Every slick nudge of your clit sends a warm wave of bliss over you, your insides repeatedly clamping down on empty air as you’re overtaken with the need to be filled. Leaning your back against the tree, you slowly sink two fingers into your dripping heat, a high pitched keen slipping from your lips as the sensitive opening immediately grips onto the appendages like they’re a lifeline. You let all your built up frustrations from the past week guide your motions, pumping your fingers with messy vigor and thumbing your clit to meet each curl of your fingertips.
Your efforts to keep your mouth quiet aren’t worth much, as the soaking wet suction your pussy has around your fingers is embarrassingly loud. You’re too far gone to notice how your body is betraying your position, head thrown back against the solid wood of the trunk as you screw your eyes shut and your mouth lolls open. Your breaths come out in rapid pants, broken by low moans as your fingers repetitively bump against that soft spot that sends stars reeling across your vision. The burning ember of your release begins to spark deep in your gut, and you fervently chase after it, picking up the pace as you grow louder.
As your mind zones in on the pursuit of your orgasm, you fail to realize that the encroaching thumping sound isn’t just your pulse in your ears. The leaves of the bush around you give a sharp rustle as they’re pulled back, accompanied by a surprised hum. “Baby?”
Your eyes fly open wildly, figure jolting upright as your vision zeroes in on Anna’s signature rabbit mask. The rapidly approaching cliff of your orgasm is shattered into disappointing nothingness as you rip your hand away in a poor attempt to hide your incriminating act, a humiliated blush spreading across your complexion. “Shit. Anna, I-”
Whatever words you were thinking of saying evaporate on your tongue as Anna leans in close, interest and concern written all over her body language. Before you can pull away, she grabs your wrist, pulling your slick fingers into the moonlight. Despite her eyes being blacked out by the mask, you can feel the intense burn of her gaze studying your fluid covered digits. “You okay, Моя сладкая? Baby hurt?” She raises her other hand to press the back of it against your warm, sweat laden forehead, grunting discontentedly at how hot to the touch you are.
“N-no, I swear I’m fine. I’m just… just-” You stumble over your words as you try to come up with some pathetic coverup for your sinful actions just moments ago. While you’re distracted with your bumbling, Anna looks you over for any injuries. Her posture goes rigid as she notices the dark patch on your underwear and the wetness that drips down the inner junction of your thigh. Quicker than you’re able to register, the hand on your forehead shoots between your legs, pulling your underwear aside and exposing your dripping cunt to your worried girlfriend.
You squeak, scrambling to pull away and cover yourself up; the efforts prove to be fruitless as Anna drops your wrist to hold your hips still in a vise grip. “Anna, hey! Wait!!” You’re so embarrassed you could cry, desperately trying to pull her attention away. Nothing you’re doing is working – her eyes are locked onto it in complete and utter awe.
Fascination softens the rigid concern in her figure as she leans in, gaze flicking between your glistening pussy and your panicked expression. “Why is it wet, любимая?” She runs a finger through your slick folds, flinching in surprise at the way you buck into the touch and whine. Your wetness feels soft against her rough fingertip, and she holds it up to the moonlight so she can observe the way it glides and strings out between her finger and thumb.
You gnaw on your lower lip and furrow your brows as you contemplate how to explain this to her. You know that the present moment isn’t a great time to go through the whole detailed sex ed spiel, so your scrambled mind will have to come up with a satisfactory summary to quiet her curiosity. Praying that you don’t fumble this, you steel your nerves and gather your wits with a deep breath. “I really, really like you, and because I really like you, my body does… this. I can’t stop thinking about you calling yourself Mommy – it gets me so worked up that I have to do something in order to take care of the wetness.”
She stares at you as the gears in her head turn and process what you’re saying, a sweet smile spreading across her face as the information starts to click. She doesn’t fully understand, but she’s more than happy to do anything to assist her beloved. “Oh baby, why not ask? You know Mommy always wants to help take care of you.”
You freeze in shock, eyes going wide as you stare at your girlfriend’s lips, wondering if you’re hallucinating what she’d just said. Your body responds instantly, a fresh wave of slick leaking from your fluttering hole. Shyly, you nod and take her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yes please, Mommy. I’d love that.” Similar to how you had to walk her through the process of making out, you know you’ll have to be thorough in guiding her through this.
Your heart hammers in your chest as you bring her hand to cup your pussy, letting out a stuttering sigh as your skin prickles with electric excitement at her long awaited touch. You align your hand with hers, pressing the tips of her middle and pointer finger against your entrance so that she can feel where you want her. “Put two fingers in, slow and gentle.”
Anna happily complies, carefully watching your reactions as she pushes her fingers into your tight heat. Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back into your skull as her much larger fingers stretch you open with a pleasant burn. Anna is absolutely enraptured by the bliss that glows on your face as your body sucks her in. The warmth of your insides is unlike anything she’s ever felt before – hot and slick and rocking against her fingers like waves in a summer lake. She stills as her knuckles rest flush against the plush skin of your lips, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from your gorgeous face to study the way your pussy throbs against her hand. She may not understand what’s happening, but she knows one thing for certain – she adores this beautiful new part of you.
As your body adjusts to the new intrusion, you test the waters by rolling your hips against Anna’s hand. You instantly notice how much deeper her fingers reach, paired with the fuller pressure against your walls that seems to set every nerve alight. You whimper as you can’t help but clamp down on her, your body eagerly seeking to pick up where you had left off. Anna brings her attention back to your face, torn between being concerned by your unusual reactions and being wholly entranced by how divine you are. “Is good? What now, baby?”
You meet her gaze with hooded eyes and a sappy smile, insides fluttering again as she returns your expression. “So good, Mommy.” You hold up your hand in a similar position to hers so she can watch and copy your motions, subtly crooking your fingers as you rock your hand back and forth like you had been doing earlier. “Try doing this while moving, like a wave.”
Her movements are a bit awkward at first, but as she gets a feel for your body and how your walls push against her fingers, she quickly finds a rhythm and range of motion that has you singing for her. Every honeyed moan and saccharine cry is music to her ears – she can’t get enough, she needs more. Suddenly, her fingers hook against a cushiony spot inside you that has your body trembling and a choked gasp ripping from your throat. Like a predator locking onto prey, she zeroes in on your reaction and presses into it again, relishing in the loud moan you let out as your pussy jolts against her.
“Ohh fuck, right there Mommy!” Anna smiles proudly down at you as she continues her ministrations, paying special attention to the spot that has you reacting so strongly. In the back of her mind, she notes just how much wetter hitting that spot has made you, the silky fluid making each thrust of her fingers glide with ease. Your wetness is practically running down her wrist at this point, each pull of her fingers adding a squelching underscore to the symphony of sounds you’re making for her.
She moves to prop her thumb against your mons to support her wrist so that she can move her fingers deeper, but is shocked at the way you wail in pleasure as her thumb presses against your clit. You silently thank the gods for Anna’s affinity for being a quick learner, as she immediately begins to experiment with the pressure on your clit as she keeps thrusting. You sob as the sweet heat of your orgasm starts to unfurl in your pelvis once more, your cunt greedily gripping onto Anna’s fingers as if afraid to be left on the edge again. Your hips buck up into her touch, adding to the dizzying pressure on your clit as she rolls her thumb over it. “Oh my god, please keep going- just like that- I need you, Mommy, need you to make me cum-”
Anna hushes you, leaning in to kiss your forehead and brush a stray droplet of sweat away. “I got you, baby. So good for Mommy.” Her palm gently cups your cheek as she watches you up close, reverently observing how your eyes roll back and flutter shut as you’re overtaken by pleasure. Tears bead up at the corners of your eyes, catching in your lashes and sparkling in the low light before rolling down your cheeks. Your skin practically glows between the warm flush that hugs your features and the sheen of sweat that accents it. Anna’s heart thumps erratically in her chest as she obsessively takes in every detail – you’re so breathtakingly bewitching, and you’re all hers. Her pupils blow wide behind her mask, lips parting in desperate pants as an unfamiliar feeling begins to bloom inside her. A ferocious ache seizes between her thighs, and she begins to understand what you were trying to explain earlier.
With a particularly rough thrust of her fingers inside you, the last of your composure snaps and your release tears through you in a blinding, liquid rush of fire. “Mommy!” You moan loudly, your whole body seizing and arching up into her touch. Anna gasps, feeling your pussy gush around her fingers as it violently clamps down. Her body responds in kind, shocks of arousal wracking her insides as she whines needily and folds forward to press her face into your neck. Her hot breath fans against your collarbone as she distracts herself by planting sloppy kisses along your throat. She doesn’t stop pumping her fingers in you, continuing her vigorous pace as she works you through your mind-shattering high.
As you start to come to and the ringing in your ears clears up, you hear her muttering Russian into your flesh – some phrases you recognize, some you’ve never heard before. From what you can grasp, she’s praising you and complimenting you, littering each sentence with every pet name she’s ever given you. Her voice is rich with devotion, practically dripping in syrupy affection. Between the rapidly building overstimulation and the emotions welling up in your chest, you nearly start to cry.
Your hand weakly wraps around Anna’s wrist, stilling her fingers inside you and drawing her attention to your face. The way she looks at you, all admiration and softness, sends butterflies careening through your veins. She tilts her head, gently removing her fingers from you and wiping them against her pants. “Better now, любимая?”
You breathlessly laugh, pressing a grateful kiss to the bridge of her nose. “Much better. Thank you, Mommy.” Anna shifts her face so that she can capture your lips in a gentle kiss, a silent urgent pressure behind it as her own arousal jumps at the contact.
With a soft moan, she pulls away and effortlessly scoops you up in her arms, mindfully collecting your discarded shorts before starting the trek back to the cabin.
Note: I'm having such a blast remaking these old fics! Absolutely love how they're turning out. Hope y'all enjoy your old man yaoi, you sick and twisted perverts. ;) Still stand by Kazan being the reason Caleb's jaw is fucked up LMAO.
Original request: ..Could i request some fluff AND smut writing for The Oni x The Deathslinger, if you would? I love them and am craving content ;; - @the--ghost--town
The Oni x The Deathslinger
SMUT
Summary: Both Caleb and Kazan are having a rough day, so Kazan visits the saloon in the hopes of drowning his past in alcohol. With both of their barriers lowered under the influence, Kazan instead finds himself drowning in his cowboy companion.
Contains: smoking, drinking, hurt/comfort, size difference, blowjob, facial, cum swapping, The Entity is a cockblocker
Caleb hummed contentedly and puffed the breath of smoke he’d been holding in through his nostrils, narrowing his eyes as he watched the tendrils of grey float away in the dust laden breeze. The cigar that hung from his chapped lips gave a weak hiss as he inhaled again, cherry burning a menacing orange in the shade cast by the overhead balcony. Fragments of an old Irish ballad drifted through his mind, and he drummed his fingers to the rhythm against the rough, splintered stairs of the saloon as smoke streamed from the corners of his heavyset frown. He moved to slip the cigar from between his lips, other hand tightening around the neck of the whiskey bottle sat next to him and lifting it to his mouth to take a short swig. He grunted at the warm burn of it sliding down his throat, wiping some of the spilled liquid off his chin with the back of his hand.
The cigar, whiskey, and music in his head did little to ease the restless fury gnawing at the pit of his stomach, which only served to irk him more, as they were usually quick fixes to all his problems. He’d been off his game the last couple trials, only managing two kills in the five trials he’d been in, and The Entity was starting to get on his case about it. Her claws scritched in the back of his skull, an insistent force promising punishment if he didn’t step up and do his job. As if to rub sand in his wounds, one of the survivors – some short, scrawny firecracker of a girl, her name unimportant to him – had the audacity to mock him as she followed her teammates out the exit in the last trial. Her raucous laughter at his missed final shot still echoed through his head, The Entity chittering along with it.
Rage boiled through his veins, drawing his muscles taut and leaving a bitter expression on his face as he extinguished his cigar on his thigh, the burning sizzle helping to clarify his muddled thoughts. He shifted to bring the bottle of whiskey to his lips again, freezing mid tilt as heavy, dragging footsteps approached him and a hulking figure cast a shadow across the steps. He slowly turned his head, prepared to bitch out whoever had come to disturb his wallowing, but was pleasantly surprised to see Kazan looming over him. His glare immediately softened and he gave him a welcoming nod, motioning for the beast of a man to come sit with him.
It wasn’t uncommon for Kazan to visit him – despite the two being notorious lone wolves, they’d found unlikely common ground and occasionally drank together in the spare moments between trials. The stairs creaked in protest as the unsettlingly large man got comfortable beside him, his supernatural body heat radiating against the side of Caleb’s arm. Caleb offered the bottle to him, swirling the amber liquid around enticingly. “Come fer a drink, Kazan?”
Kazan huffed in gratitude, removing his mask so he could toss back a couple gulps – Caleb immediately took note of the glossy, far gone look in his eyes, and the way his wrinkled features seemed more weighted than usual. Kazan went to give the bottle back to him, but Caleb shook his head and got up, quickly fetching another bottle from behind the bar. When he came back, he sat a bit closer to Kazan, placing a reassuring hand on his upper back. “That’s ‘n awfully familiar look. What’s on yer mind?”
Kazan’s mountainous shoulders immediately slumped, his already naturally frowning countenance somehow sinking further. He let out a deep sigh, fog rolling from his lips as his wildly floating hair drooped across his frame, as if the weight of his emotions were a physical force dragging him down. “My father’s dying face. Can’t get it out of my head.” He pauses to take a swig of whiskey, pursing his lips and casting a bitter glare at the ground between his feet. “I wish I’d gone about things differently – maybe he’d still be alive.”
Caleb grips his shoulder and leans closer, giving him a sympathetic look. “Fate’s a bitch, sometimes she’s got set plans fer us ‘n there ain’t shit ye can do ‘bout it. No point in worryin’ yerself ta death over what ifs.”
Kazan hums, his muscles relaxing under the cowboy’s calloused touch. Their eyes meet for a moment before he looks down again. “I’m aware, that doesn’t ease the pain though. The shame and regret is overbearing.”
Caleb pops open his bottle of bourbon and takes a sip. He offers the bottle for Kazan to try, studying the scars on the side of his face as he takes it. “Ah know. Ain’t nothin t’ be done of the past, best ye can do is hope the future gives a shot at redemption – a chance t’ choose a different path, if ye ever get out of this place. Make yer father’s spirit proud.”
Their fingers brush for a moment as the bottle of bourbon is passed back to Caleb, and Kazan’s cloudy eyes shift to lock with his studious gaze. “I suppose that is true. But for now, I am stuck here and there is no change to be made.” He chuckles, but there’s no mirth in it. “Besides, I am not here to become a better man – I’m here to get drunk and forget my troubles.”
Caleb lifts his bottle, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he grins. “Amen. Cheers t’ that, partner.” Their bottles clink together, and they both toss back their drinks. Kazan lets out a steamy hiss as the burn of the alcohol sinks into his system, giving his drinking buddy an appreciative smile.
As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, it painted Glenvale in shadows of dusky blue and highlights of cozy amber, casting a dying warmth over the two men at the saloon front. Despite the chill of sundown beginning to creep in, the remaining heat of the evening clung desperately to their skin, amplified by the rush of alcohol in their veins. Their figures sprawled across the worn wood, completely at ease and comfortable despite the rough surface they laid upon.
Kazan hummed to himself and twisted his head to look at Caleb, grinning as Caleb lazily shifted over to meet his gaze. “I miss the real things. Real alcohol, real sunlight. Seems The Entity can never get the good things quite right.” He sighed wistfully and clasped his hands over his torso.
Caleb nodded in agreement, grunting as The Entity suddenly gave an irritated rumble in the back of his skull, as if insulted by the comments towards her copying skills. “Ay, Ah would give anythin’ t’ have some knockout liquor ‘n this damn saloon.”
“I second that – perhaps getting blackout drunk would actually clear my head. This knockoff whiskey doesn’t have enough kick to be a real distraction.” Kazan rapidly sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose with two massive fingers, wincing as The Entity scolds him with a sharp shock through his skull. Him and Caleb exchange an annoyed but humorous glance, equally amused by the petty behavior from the god of the realm.
Caleb props himself up on his elbows and knocks the side of Kazan’s leg with his knee. “My glorious presence ain’t ‘nough t’ distract ya? Ye wound me, Kaz.” He snickers as Kazan raises an unimpressed brow at him.
Kazan rolls his eyes, placing a hand on Caleb’s knee to keep the bony limb from bruising his thigh. “Silence, cowboy – you’re always a distraction. I’m inclined to believe it’s a permanent state of being for you.”
The weight of Kazan’s massive hand engulfing his knee sends a sudden wave of heat through Caleb, leaving him reeling and confused. He knows for a fact that he’s not drunk enough to be in a muddled lusty mindset, so where did this feeling come from? Casual physical contact other than the occasional brush by another killer or the usual handshake was a rarity, one that he paid little mind to, but was he really so secretly touch starved that a simple clasp to the knee was enough to get his pistons pumping?
Caleb freezes for a moment, his already drunkenly rosy cheeks growing a deeper shade of pink as he takes in Kazan’s appearance. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have a less than appropriate appreciation of Kazan’s figure – the intimidating mass of his silhouette, the intense curves of his powerful muscles, the sparse patches of white hair and twisted scars that adorned his pale blue skin… He reminded him of some of his torture devices – built to perfection with the sole intention of beautiful destruction.
Maybe it’s the lust unfurling in his gut, or maybe it’s just the alcohol simmering in his blood, but Caleb feels a surge of devious confidence overtake him. He chuckles and sits up fully, leaning in and tugging on Kazan’s armor so that their faces are mere inches apart. He playfully glares at him through hooded eyes, huffing as the heat that rolls off him in waves caresses his front. “Ah don’ think Ah know how t’ be quiet. Ye might have t’ find a way t’ shut me up yerself.”
Kazan’s eyes narrow as he processes the sudden shift in energy, gaze rapidly flicking between Caleb’s crooked lips, flushed cheeks, and intense glowing irises. As he realizes what’s come over his friend, a deep laugh rumbles in the pit of his gut, shaking his figure as it erupts from his chest and tumbles from his lips. “What are you implying, you old fool?” He teases, lifting his chin as if to challenge Caleb.
Caleb surges forward and locks his lips with Kazan in a gentle kiss, fist tightening in his armor as the feeling of Kazan’s plush lips against his sends a dirty thrill shivering through him. Kazan stiffens as he’s caught off guard – he’d been expecting Caleb to make a move, but he didn’t think he’d be so bold as to kiss him right off the rip. Physical affection was not something he’d often indulged in prior to his departure from Earth, and even less so in The Entity’s realm, so the sudden warmth of the kiss leaves his head spinning and guts full of butterflies.
Kazan’s eyes flutter shut as he hungrily presses into the kiss, placing a cautious hand against the other man’s back to close the gap between them. As their chests press together, Caleb’s scent envelops him and invades his senses – old leather, cigar smoke, gun powder, and a dusty musk. He moans and slips his tongue between Caleb’s lips, savoring the contrast of the sweet bourbon and savory smoke lingering in his mouth. The world around him fades away as Caleb consumes his every sense and thought.
Kazan nearly growls at the loss of sensation when Caleb suddenly pulls back, swiping his tongue over his lower lip before leaning back with a far too smug smirk. “Ah’m implyin’ you keep my mouth busy. If my charmin’ talk ain’t ‘nough t’ distract ya, Ah’m sure my mouth might do a better job at it.” He tilts his head and gives Kazan a cheeky smile, eyes glittering with mischief. “Ah’ll reckon that took yer mind offa things?”
Kazan huffs impatiently, brushing the bridge of his nose along Caleb’s cheek. “Perhaps… Though it appears the thoughts are returning. I reckon you should keep going.”
Caleb snickers at Kazan’s eager tone, swinging his leg over his massive lap so that he can straddle his hips. He playfully trails his hands up his shoulders and neck before burying them in Kazan’s wild locks, using them as leverage to tug him in for another kiss. This one is more urgent than the last, ripe with the hunger and desperation of centuries worth of being deprived of intimate contact.
Kazan sighs into the kiss as he settles his hands on Caleb’s narrow hips, shifting him closer so he can deepen the kiss. Their lips part so that the tips of their tongues can brush together, softly twining and taking turns dipping deeper. Caleb’s fingertips sift through silky white hair and rub soothing circles into Kazan’s scalp, drawing a shiver from him every time they brush against the sensitive nape of his neck. Kazan’s grip tightens, head tilting and mouth growing more fervent, intent on dominating his partner’s tongue.
Caleb groans, shuddering at the feeling of his tongue getting bullied by the bigger man. Regretfully, he tugs on Kazan’s hair and pulls away, nearly losing his composure at the sight of the string of saliva connecting their puffy lips. He scratches his nails against Kazan’s neck as he flashes him a cocky grin. “Mm… Fer someone as big n’ intimidatin’ as ya, yer awful soft n’ needy.”
Kazan scowls, threading his fingers in Caleb’s hair and tugging back to expose his throat, the Adam's apple bobbing nervously under his intense gaze. “And for someone in such a compromising position, you’re being awful mouthy. You really don’t know how to be quiet, cowboy.” He growls and leans in to pepper kisses along his fluttering pulse, nipping at the fragile skin as Caleb’s fingers tighten in his hair.
Caleb gasps and leans into the touch, squeezing his thighs around Kazan’s as arousal pools heavy in his abdomen. He whines as his dick begins to harden and press against the stiff fabric of his pants, the supplemental heat of the alcohol only serving to amplify his excitement.
Fog blows across Caleb’s throat, tickling the flushed surface as Kazan pants in response and sinks his teeth into the crook of his neck, grinning into the flesh as Caleb stiffens in his grasp and moans loudly. “Hah, and you call me needy? Look at you…” He shifts back enough to part their torsos, laughing as his eyes fall upon the twitching outline of Caleb’s half hard dick.
Caleb lets out a displeased grumble and rolls his eyes, shifting his hips so that he can grind down into Kazan’s lap. A confident smirk spreads across his face as he feels something hot and hard pulsing against his ass, and he relishes the deep groan Kazan utters as he rolls his hips again. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ needy.”
He plants another searing kiss against Kazan’s lips before slipping off his lap so that he can settle in front of him, hands resting against his knees and looking up at him hungrily. Kazan snorts at the submissive desperation written all over his face and takes the hint, shifting his armor so that he can slip his pants down to his ankles. He spreads his massive thighs to make space for Caleb, baring his manhood to him.
Caleb’s eyes are locked in on it as he gets comfortable on his knees between Kazan’s legs. An aroused huff slips from his lips as he takes in the sight. Even without being fully hard, the size is intimidating – it hangs heavy between his legs, the girth thicker than his own forearm, with a length to match. An unruly patch of white hair sits above the base, from which corded veins trail down the sides, drawing his eyes to the tip. His mouth waters as he watches precum drool from the opening of his foreskin, a fat pearl of it glistening temptingly in the low light.
He playfully bites into the soft meat of Kazan’s inner thigh, placing a kiss against the mark before trailing his lips up to the base of his cock and burying his nose against it. His eyes nearly roll back as he inhales Kazan’s scent, the heady musk and warm earthy undertones making him salivate even more. He drags the flat of his tongue along the side of Kazan’s cock, pulling back the foreskin so that he can swirl his tongue around the purple tip. He’s taken aback by how hot the precum is, the silky heat of it spreading through his mouth as the salty flavor washes across his tastebuds. He is used to Kazan being unnaturally warm, but the heat that emanates from his groin is almost mind melting.
Kazan grunts appreciatively at the stimulation, stroking his thumb along Caleb’s cheek while he watches him work his tongue against his dripping slit. “You’re not so bad with your mouth occupied. I’ll have to keep this in mind for the next time you’re prattling my ears off.”
Caleb chuckles, placing a wet kiss to the tip and meeting Kazan’s gaze. “Almost tolerable, hm?” He drops his attention back to the cock in his hand, stroking it a couple of times before leaning forward to engulf the first couple inches in his mouth. The muscles in it pulse as it swells to full size against his tongue, eagerly seeking the pleasure he offers. His tongue laves against the weeping slit as he pulls back, flicking against the frenulum and cupping the bottom as he pushes deeper.
Already, his jaw aches with the tremendous effort of accommodating Kazan’s immense girth. Even with the right side of his jaw being loose, the intrusion leaves little room in his mouth, fitting snugly between his lips and pressing heavy on his tongue. To the best of his ability, he hollows his cheeks out and lazily bobs along the length, humming as the tip presses against his soft palate.
Kazan hisses at the tight heat, threading his fingers in Caleb’s hair and subtly pushing him down as his patience wears thin. It’d been far too long since the last time he came, and his balls ached from being so pent up. Caleb looks up, flashing him a cheeky wink as he relaxes his jaw and quickly deepthroats as much of it as he can. His eyes roll into the back of his head and tears well up as his throat stretches to the limit, the muscles spasming as he gags around the sensitive flesh.
The pleasure hit Kazan like a punch, forcing a loud groan from his chest. His fingers tighten in Caleb’s hair as his hips buck up, forcing his cock deeper into Caleb’s wet heat. Caleb tries his best to swallow around him, the action causing drool to pool in his mouth and messily slip down his chin with each thrust from Kazan.
Caleb moans as his hips start involuntarily moving, his neglected cock throbbing as it rubs against the uncomfortable fabric of his pants. Feeling Kazan’s dick claim his throat and steal away his oxygen gets him even harder than he had been earlier – the sting in his throat and the swirling lightheadedness serving as fuel, his arousal skyrocketing and burning brighter through every nerve.
Just as the ache in his deprived lungs starts to grow unbearable, Caleb regretfully taps out, pulling back and sucking on the tip before releasing it with a wet pop. He wraps a tight fist around Kazan’s drool slick length and strokes it at a swift pace. “M’god, ‘s been ferever since Ah last done this. Missed th’ taste of cock.” He moans and looks up at Kazan through tear wetted lashes.
Kazan hisses, his dick jerking at the sight of Caleb’s fucked out, desperate expression. The fact that Caleb has done this before catches him off guard – he knew Caleb had spent a lot of time around men between prison and his former gang, but he didn’t dwell much on the cowboy’s former company. The knowledge that the man before him is experienced with taking cock sends a rush of heat through Kazan, his face twisting in a delighted snarl. “I didn’t realize you were such a slut, Caleb.”
Caleb snorted at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as he twisted his wrist to apply more friction. “Damn, Ah s’ppose my secret’s out. What a shame…” He gives Kazan a charming grin before leaning in to take his swollen tip in his mouth again. Now that he’s more used to the size, he sets a brutal pace, cheeks hollowing out every time he pulls back and throat constricting violently with each deep bob of his head.
Kazan growls, tossing his head back as he fucks himself deeper into Caleb’s throat. Even with the prior stretching, Caleb still struggles to fit the whole length inside, only managing to get his lips halfway down before his throat protests and sends tears spilling from his eyes. He makes up for the limited space in his throat by using his hand to jerk the remaining length, his other hand moving to fondle Kazan’s heavy, scorching hot sack.
Kazan’s hands grip the edge of the stair he sits on, allowing him to shift his weight onto his arms and thrust his hips up harder into Caleb, mercilessly face fucking him. Every wild thrust makes the pleasure climb higher and higher, his movements growing more haphazard as he chases a release he hasn’t known for centuries.
The veins hugging the sides of his cock pulse almost painfully against the silky flesh of Caleb’s taut cheeks as he fights to keep his lips suctioned around the rapidly moving beast. More drool spills from the corners of his mouth, making a mess of his chin and neck as he gives in to being a pliant fuck sleeve for Kazan. His nostrils flare as the oxygen deprivation begins to hit, turning his face a pretty shade of scarlet and making his dick jump, a dark wet spot beginning to form where precum had been continuously leaking through the whole interaction. Tears pour freely from his tightly shut eyes, trailing down his flushed cheeks to join the wet mess on the lower half of his face.
Kazan stares intensely at his face, mind spiraling as he takes in every detail of Caleb’s features. A heated shiver wracks through his body, tearing his eyes from Caleb’s face for only a moment as the roll back into his skull and his head is tossed back with an animalistic groan. The pleasure begins to coil unbearably tight in his lower abdomen, tendrils of electric sensation shooting through his pelvis like hedonistic lightning. He struggles to stutter out a warning as his release closes in. “F-fuck, Caleb – you’re too good. I’m going t–”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead opting to pull Caleb off him so he can jerk himself to completion across his partner’s face. Caleb watches in dazed awe as Kazan’s cock throbs harshly in his fist, sending rope after rope of searing cum splattering over his visage. His mouth gapes open, tongue lolling out to catch the copious amounts of release. Kazan shudders at the sight, wringing his fist along his length a couple more times to milk the last of his cum onto Caleb’s waiting tongue.
As the viscous fluid begins to drip off Caleb’s face and onto his shirt and legs, he leans back and makes a show of rolling the white fluid across his cupped tongue before throwing his head back and swallowing hard. He swipes some of the cum off his cheek with his fingers, moaning as he pops it into his mouth and licks the bitter mess from them.
A content purr emanates from deep in Kazan’s chest as he leans back onto his elbows, every muscle going slack with radiating bliss. He lifts a heavy hand to Caleb’s head, lazily stroking his hair and muttering soft praises of ‘so good’ and ‘stunning’. Caleb smiles softly at the attention as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes as much of the mess from his face as he can. When he feels he is sufficiently clean, he snakes up Kazan’s torso and passionately kisses him, slipping his tongue into Kazan’s slack mouth so that he can taste his own release.
Kazan pushes into the kiss eagerly, an aftershock of pleasure rocking his system as the flavor of his cum rolls over his tastebuds. He flicks his tongue across Caleb’s one more time before pulling away and giving him a teasing glare. “All the times I’ve been here, and we’re only just now doing this? To think we’ve been missing out on indulging this whole time…”
“Ay, we really shoulda done it sooner.” Caleb snickers, toying with a strand of Kazan’s hair as it floats close to his face. His whole body shivers as his hips brush up against Kazan, reminding him of his own untouched cock. He keens needily as the tiniest amount of stimulation causes it to jolt against the crease of his hip.
Kazan smiles at Caleb’s clear desperation, moving a hand to cup his erection, his gargantuan palm nearly swallowing Caleb’s whole center. His lips part to speak, but he’s promptly interrupted by a familiar sharp tugging sensation in the back of his mind. The Entity’s tendrils unfurl across the inside of his skull, pulsing like a clock ticking down the seconds. He knows there’s no fighting it – it’s a warning that he needs to go, and that he doesn’t have a choice.
He sighs in irritation, furrowing his brows as he grinds the heel of his palm against Caleb’s length. “She has the worst timing…” He removes his hand from Caleb and plants a soft kiss on his forehead. “Sorry to leave you high and dry, cowboy, but I’m being called to a trial.”
Caleb pouts, hands clenching against Kazan’s chest where they were resting, before he sighs and resigns to sliding off his lap to sit next to him. He understands that there’s no resisting the pull of a trial, no matter how hard you try to push against it. “Fuckin’ cock blocker.”
Kazan chuckles, pulling his partner in for a quick kiss before standing up and stretching his sore thighs. “I’ll make this quick. Be back to finish this soon – be prepared.” He casts a glance over his shoulder, eyes blazing with unholy intent, before slipping his mask back on and storming into a wall of dark fog.
Caleb watches on, his body simultaneously sinking with disappointment and winding up with nervous anticipation. He relaxes against the now cold wood of the saloon stairs, trailing a hand down his lithe figure to tease at his aching arousal. As Kazan disappears from sight, he can’t help but wonder what the samurai has in mind for him next…
I was reminded of my love for death slinger from dead by daylight. I originally was on here for the dbdl fandom welllll before I was writing for cod/GOT fandom. So PLEASE SEND ANY DBD ASKS OR THOUGHTS SMUT OR NOT PLSSSS!
TAGS: Historical References, Historical Inaccuracy, Medieval Medicine, Eventual Smut, Power Play, No Such thing as Chivalry, Nihilism, Power Imbalance, Action/Adventure, and Canon-Typical Violence
The princess holds her coins out to the merchant. “I want two shovels of those morsels you have here,” she requests. The merchant grins, blackened teeth flashing her. “Aye miss, but where would ya like to get else?”
She thinks for a moment, before finally gesturing to the section of fruits. “Those there, the purplish thing.”
“Aye, the szilva?” the merchant offers one to her. The princess grins, tightening the fabric to cover her face better.
“Will give you as much as I have in my satchel,” she responds delightfully.
The merchant nods, giddily adding the rich fruit into the rucksack he will give to her. She hands him a handful of florentinus.
The merchant gawks, his one good eye bulging. “My, my, yer more than just a traveler.”
She grins beneath the scarf, nodding her head. “A secret, if you will allow this.”
“Aye, ya have my word,” the merchant says.
Tarhos tracks down the girl easily. A merchant had told him the whereabouts of a young woman passing through. Fitting the description perfectly.
Him and his men set off westward of the town, heading towards the otherside where the merchant said she’d be.
It was simple. He could sniff out a princess, pretending to be hiding among the regular everyday peasantry. That isn’t too hard. There’s a gait and a certain way women in this century hold themselves. It’s a refining standard. Their heads held up high, their confidence oozing with every single step of their leather bound shoes.
He runs into something, gripping their arms tightly. The veil falls from their head, cover blown.
“Found ya,” he grumbles roughly. She sneers at him. The scar across her, then he feels the pelts of her legs; nothing is felt for him. He nearly laughs in delight.
“Let me go, or I’ll–”
“You’ll what? Kill me?” Tarhos inquires, a grin forming.
His strong fingers dig into her flesh. The princess is here in such a disgusting place. To Tarhos, to his men, and in this horrible corridor where there are moans nearby.
“You frequent places such as these, do ya, girl?” he pulls her up to whisper the filth into her ears. She thrashes again, her kicks pinging against his armor.
Tarhos laughs. He glances at his men, signaling them to depart ahead of him. They already know the look.
He glances back to the princess, an odd thing to behold in the dimness of night.
She is exactly what he expected her to be. A wonderfully cruel and defiant thing.
“You,” she hisses. “I’ve seen you following me at the market.”
He leans in close, nose bumping her temple. The scent, the hair, the eyes. This is the king’s daughter. A horribly, unretained woman. He nearly licks the side of her cheek, an alluring emotion growing inside of him.
Strong emotions for a person so wicked.
Tarhos reels back, knowing she is lethal in ways he is unaware of. He cannot let his guard down with her.
He feels the odd sensation of something hot and tight in his gut. The slim dagger forcing itself into his side, slicing the bit of flesh it can pierce through even with armor. Clever girl, he thinks.
“Let me go,” she grits out, eyes ablaze. It doesn’t feel like anything. Pain is secondary to him.
The struggle he’s endured before this. Before now. The princess thinks she can wound him, down him with a single piece of scrap metal. Laughable, really.
Tarhos grabs her hand, covering her own with his and forcing the weapon even more into his side. If she can kill him correctly then he will let her, if she hesitates he takes her. “You’re already here,” he challenges. “Finish it.”
She snarls, pushing into him and he grunts. Ah, that pinch of pain.
The sensation opens him, uncoiling a flame beneath him. Hot and heady. She is blissfully obstinate as he heard she is.
Tarhos presses himself to her, entangling her with his free arm, allowing the dagger to push through. He groans deep, the sound rumbling in his chest. The moans around them grow louder, the sounds of a pleasure house only exceeding in drowning out their own foreplay.
“You,” she murmurs, eyes widening, glancing down quickly at his side. She moves away from him as quickly as she can. This cannot be, her mind warns.
He grabs her, baring his teeth. “Finish, girl.”
The princess swallows, her lips parting. Hesitation will only bring about more suffering. He plunges it for her, grabbing her hand and thrusting the weapon deeper into him.
She gasps, more so at the way he’s gripping her, how he seems enthralled by the action. This is a pleasure for him.
No Knight has ever done such a thing.
“A reward, princess,” he says.
“What?” She asks, breathlessly. Confused by the turn of events. She realizes their lips are so close. It is the devil’s work. Tarhos is a knight. A foul mercenary doing his king’s bidding.
The knight pulls her into his embrace, her hands dropping to her side. “Slay the knight that has tried to capture you, and you will be set free,” he tells her.
She swallows dryly, feeling the sweat prickle against her back, rolling down her skin. The moans in the alley grow louder by the second; lovers interlocked.
Is this what it looks like for them too?
The princess shuts her eyes, the sounds, the smell of musk on her tongue. The iron is just beneath, the wound should kill him.
It does not.
The princess realizes there’s a freedom in the space he gives her. She runs, the dagger dropping and resounding in the alley.
A sharp clang and she vanishes into the night.
Arriving back to his men, empty-handed and bloodied. They all look at him quizzically.
“The girl escaped?” Alejandro asks. His men look nervous, waiting with baited breath for what Tarhos will say next.
“Aye,” Tarhos responds. “I’ll track her. I’ll bring her back.”
“By yerself? Now—“ Sander tries to speak, but is cut off when Tarhos speaks.
“I’ll do it. This is my cargo.”
He leaves then, turning from his men as he can feel their eyes as he continues down the alley. He’d go back to the village and fetch her. He feels the thrum of his blood again, sucking in his teeth. Something about her makes him feel entirely roused, an utterly powerful sensation he hasn’t felt since he’s had his claymore slash against multiple men.
The wound at his side pulses. He sucks his teeth in.
This will be a game.
He finds her at the back of a horse stall. When he hovers above her, he has half to pull her by the hair. Too long, too soft. He wants to know how she maintains it, what it would feel like draped over his face or his crotch.
Tarhos hoists her over his shoulders. Her hands bound and mouth stuffed with a rag, it’s difficult managing her to behave. Her words come out in a muffled way, which are definitely meant to be various insults thrown his way. It thrills him really. A lady doing such filthy things causes his emotions to stir within him.
A sort of forbidden fruit; delectable, vile.
“Do not speak, you’ll only waste your energy,” he warns her.
He can hear her huff, shifting in his hold to get herself free.
Tarhos considers this a part of the fun.
She struggles, trying her best to kick him and to cause him harm. Something to make him hurt. She’s been running since as long as she could remember. Has been trying to make sense of all of this. Her cursed father, and his wretched kingsmen. She hopes they all rot in hell.
“Keep trying, princess. It’ll only exhaust you,” he rumbles.
She mumbles something angrily.
Awful, man, she thinks. Rotten, terrible, vile, disgusting. His large hands cup against her ass and she nearly does manage to wriggle away.
He nearly drops her into the gravel, but catches her carefully.
“Now, now, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
She thrashes one more time, feeling her body ache at the amount of running and moving she has done.
Tired, winded, she’s done enough for a lifetime. Surrendering doesn’t seem like an option for her, but how can she get out of his hands?
She needs to think, she clenches her teeth against the rag in her mouth. Her eyes closing as she thinks of every possible angle to get out of this hold. She will run away, she will be free, she tells herself.
Tarhos lips twitch slightly upwards as he notices she’s calming down.
Only he has managed to make her lose her mind. To completely unravel her being. Her sense of self. It drives him to inhale sharply. The essence of jasmine wafting in his nose, his hands grip tighter on the back of her thigh.
The supple skin underneath. It stirs something deep in him. Insatiable and burning.
A princess is a lady. A lady of a kingdom. The daughter of a King who wishes to have her head.
A part of him almost wishes to drag this opportunity for his own selfish gain. He’s become fascinated by her, by her spitfire. She is by law a witch. One that would burn for her treasons against kin. Tarhos snarls, holding her tighter. He’d burn the whole kingdom down if it meant he got to keep what is rightfully his. His own. His.
Some sort of possessiveness maims inside him, a roaring need. The King may have employed him, but some contracts are meant to be broken.
Tarhos grins beneath his mask, the wound in his side still there as he carries her back to the Guardia Compagnia’s hideout.
Fandom — Dead by Daylight
Pairing — Anna | Huntress/reader
Summery — With her lullaby growing louder, you cursed under your breath, your legs growing stiffer and stiffer with cold, your fingers beginning to turn white as you forced yourself to keep moving, keep running, keep distance with the woman of the forest that enjoyed the chase.
Content Warnings — being hunted, chase sequences, mentions of being locked up
Word Count — 661
Mud was stuck to your skin, your hair, the white dress you were forced to wear as you ran between trees and bushes, your heart beating out of your chest like a frightened deer as the world passed by you in a blur. You had lost count of the attempts you had made to escape the dwelling that lived deep within the northern woods, the only guide that you had to navigate being where the sun rose and sat on the horizon, though even that was gone from you, the moon being your only companion as you tracked marks deep within the snow.
You did not care for frost bite, nor the great elk and wolves that roamed this land: you wanted to be far away from the dwelling and from her, peering around wildly as you attempted to spot her between the trees. With a flash, you knew to duck, the snow freezing your skin as you dove down into it, the hatchet flying where your body had been moments before. She wasn’t aiming to kill you, no, she was aiming to incompacitats you, hoping to bring you back to her cabin to chain you to the wall and nurse you back to health. It would be weeks of being stuck to that damn wall before she would let you free again, even longer to let you roam without her eye being on you.
Your dress was wet now, scrambling from the snow as you willed your body to move, hoping that hypothermia would kill you long before she could catch you. Underneath all the snow, you struggled to see where you were stepping, roots catching your feet every once in a while, causing you to stumble and have to use another tree to steady yourself.
With her lullaby growing louder, you cursed under your breath, your legs growing stiffer and stiffer with cold, your fingers beginning to turn white as you forced yourself to keep moving, keep running, keep distance with the woman of the forest that enjoyed the chase.
You crossed a stream, the water’s surface frozen over but you could still feel the water’s movement underneath, gasping as the ice broke along the stream’s bank, icy water covering your toes before you could finishing crossing. It was the furthest you had ever gotten against the huntress.
Another hatchet. It was close enough to where it grazed your cheek as it passed. It embedded itself into the snowy floor, your heart stopping as you stumbled back onto the stream's bank, hands sinking through the ice. Boots crunched the snow and dirt until a shadow loomed over you, leaving you to look up at the woman who held her axe high. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut as you felt the air rush against your forehead before stopping.
Slowly opening your eyes, you saw the end of Anna’s axe hover above your eyes. It tapped gently against the middle of your brows before Anna pulled her axe away, coming to kneel next to you in the snow.
“Are you alright, my heart?” She whispered softly, her warm hands rubbing your arms, “I didn’t harm you?” Shaking your head, Anna smiled in return, reaching for the hatchet to pluck it from the ground before securing it back to her belt, lifting you into her strong hold.
“I can still walk.”
“You’re shaking worse than a baby elk,” the huntress tutted, securing the heavy cloak she wore for winter hunting around your body, blocking you from the world. “We go home now. It’s too cold out here.”
settling into her arms, you let your eyes flutter shut, watching through the crack in the cloak as the snow began to fall once more, though, as your hand sneaked up to her breast, you gave it an experimental squeeze.
She squeezed your leg, emitting a low growl. “Ah, my heart, you are still wanting to burn energy?”
I want to see a "on their last straw of sanity"reader x killer. Like I NEED IT! (Doesn't even have to be this but this dynamic would be wonderful)
For example the reader already tired and breaking from the trails is desperately trying not to go apeshit. However the entity is already slowly warping and tugging them into becoming a killer. Little illusions and whispering thoughts that don't belong to you pushing you down towards the edge of sanity. Closer to what the nurse is mentally. Eventually warping your body should you break.
A killer one or multiple who had been watching it happen slowly over the trials becoming concerned and worried. Whether by guilt or something else they are pulled towards them. They had seen survivors fall into the void but you were different. You resisted longer than the others. You were different, you were fighting the madness taking root in your mind. Even when you weren't fully there you stood strong.
Some want to push you over into the Insanity. Some are scared (the other survivors don't know what to do) and some want to help you (who that's up to the writer).
