kinslayr
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙨.
𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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starter call , feel free to combine multiple prompts !
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As good as I am with a bow, I promise you I was better with a sword.
#; tbt#tumblr mobile not showing my visage tag wtf#anyways I love that voice line#I was hoping we’d get some swordzo in ow2 but he is bow man and that’s okay
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⛈ hey uh what’s the new ship name for McH.anzo
#; ( ooc )#realized I need to update my rules and such but what’s the new nameeeee#caszo??? hanidy#omg…#hear me out: HOLE
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My FATE is written in BLOOD.
© // carrd
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Hanzo’s arms- I mean new animation
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@coyotefaced: " the way you flirt is shameful " reverence, his last bastion of pride, the way his hand pushes back his stray hair.
“ hm. ” is his initial response, an obvious wealth of information in that single syllable. he lays there, curled surprisingly tightly against the cowboy’s side and allows the calloused fingertips upon mussed hair - allows the attention. he basks in it, even, a dragon king being worshiped - though the gestures are returned in kind, through the fluttering of his own killer’s fingertips upon tattoos and scars that adorn the map of his lover’s body. keen ears take rapture in the light thrum of mccree’s breathing, a rhythm so like the slow lull of rain pattering against the window.
they’re on a bed far too small for two grown men, but it is delightfully comfortable - if nothing else than the excuse of the allowed intimacy in their proximity. he does not know how long they’ve been here, nor does he care. all that the assassin delights for at this present moment is the warmth permeating his senses on this rainy afternoon, and the surprising peace he feels within his bones because of it. still though, he casts his partner an amused glance, dark eyes flickering briefly with warmth before his head returns to it’s nesting place near jesse’s shoulder - close enough that he can see the lines upon his handsome face. “ and yet you fall prey to my advances time and time again, gunslinger. ”
his voice is softer, between just the two of them - the husky edges gentle instead of gravelly. his face is softer too - regal features instead open and content in the warmth of an equal, a cherished treasure. “ but my ‘shameful flirting’ is for you alone, i assure you. ” he punctuates the statement with a upward tilt of lips, his thumb sweeping carefully over jesse’s cheek, along the slope of a perfect cheekbone, as mighty and pristine as the sierra nevada against the skyline. the reverence is returned in kind, with his own gentle touch.
#coyotefaced#; ( verse ) 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩. → 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧#; ( ask response )#HAVE SOME SOFT!!!#tosses this out#thank u for facilitating my soft mchanzo needs
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coyotefaced·:
“ …you’re kidding ”
the response garners a literal visual of the wind being taken out of the cowboy’s sails all at once, the hunched, defensive posturing he’d taken up in an effort to demonstrate how much he was not to be fucked with…. is now being fucked with. his shoulders slump and he leans back against the seat and stares across the glowing skyline, scanning. his hands go to his face and where he rubs with his palm, he cools with the other. jesus fuckin’ christ.
whatever game this shimada is playing, he thinks they’re tied neck and neck. he’s never been the brightest but his wits were never dull and still now, still here he finds his strikes being met with a surprising amount of efficiency. in this moment he’s been bested, though he’s certain it won’t be for long. i can see the family resemblance, now.
his shoulders rock once in a muffled, single laugh. mccree’s head rolls back.
“ – okay, fine. deal ”
he offers his hand again, in earnest and relaxed. how many deals with devils does he have to make in a single week?
“ dessert for needlework. if i didn’t know you any better - and frankly, i don’t know you yet - i’d say you were feelin’ generous ”
he watches mccree cycle through an amusing amount of emotions in one single breath, and can’t help the mischief that plays at the corner of his lips. what an interesting man, the gunslinger was. in truth he isn’t surprised... jesse knowing of his origins, of the shimada origins, would make any man wary to make a deal with him. it wasn’t as if the yakuza were gentle with their bargaining, and as the former heir... well, he’d been less than kind in his deals. that hanzo had long since been left behind, however (mostly). the one that replaced him was... not so much gentle, as more wary of the world. he could not, and would not, push beyond what he needed for his atonement.
self punishment was hanzo’s specialty.
...but a little cake couldn’t hurt.
he finds that he likes, mccree’s laugh - likes the rhythmic noise of it. it has a grin playing at the corner of his lips, a soft huff of enchantment, before his face goes back to stony... mostly. “ am i? ” he muses, observing the skyline with quiet intrigue, “ don’t think so lowly of me, jesse. we just had a near death experience together. i owe you some of my trust. ” his stare is back to him, lordly and almost feral. there is movement on his skin... a dragon, coiling lightly about his wrist.
“ and in turn, you owe me some of yours. ”
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@coyotefaced: lighter : my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette.
smoking is commonality they both share - a sort of quiet intimacy that belies the nuance of their relationship. smoking after dinner, smoking when stressed, smoking after a hit, smoking after a romp... it was a dirty habit that had increased tenfolds in jesse’s presence, but he hardly minded in the slightest, even less so that the gunslinger smoked more than him. his oral fixation was no secret, no tempestuous lie - not when it came to jesse mccree anyway. he regarded the cowboy with clearly darkened hues sometimes, and when it was just them - in the dark - and his plump tiers were illuminated by the cherry end of a cigarette... well, it was hard not to focus on those lips.
it’s his turn to be the one smoking in the dark, however. he’s lounged out on the balcony - shirtless and sweltering in the dorado heat, and huffing lightly at the burning cigarette in hand. he notes jesse’s presence joining him before he hears the door, notes his large frame in the chair next to his (close, they’re set impossibly close - because hanzo likes to be close to him), and glances to him with the vaguest notch of warmth in normally imperious eyes. he sees the cigarette in the gunslinger’s mouth, and moves to flick the lighter in hand - when it sputters sadly and hanzo doesn’t even miss a beat.
a slow inhale, then the release of smoke, before his own papered tobacco is back in his lips, and he leans forward reducing the distance between them to negligible. the cherry of his cigarette butts up against mccree’s own unlit one, and he breathes just so, allowing tender ashes to illuminate and trickle their heat into the cowboy’s own. it’s impossibly intimate and close... close enough that he can see the amber flecks in mccree’s gaze, the ruggedness upon his features. hanzo removes his own cigarette then, away from his lips, but he does not lean away - does not increase the space between them. instead he regards the vaquero with darkened hues, through thick lashes and a regal facade. as he breaks the spell of their proximity and leans backwards, he smirks, and smoke curls lazily from the corners of his mouth...
like a dragon’s breath.
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In-Depth Sinday Meme
What is your muse’s favorite place(s) to be touched?
Are there any foods that are like aphrodisiacs to your muse?
Are there particular scents/sounds that turn your muse on?
Does your muse enjoy dirty talk? Do they like to do the talking or being dirty talked?
What are some subtle gestures that get your muse in the mood?
How does your muse communicate to others they they’re in the mood?
How does your muse flirt?
How does your muse approach someone they want to sleep with?
What are some physical things your muse does when they want someone to sleep with them?
How does your muse approach one-night stands versus long term partners?
Is your muse very physically intimate?
Is your muse very emotionally intimate?
Does your muse enjoy cuddling after sex?
What are the requirements for your muse to sleep with someone?
Does your muse use protection? If so, what kind?
What is a fantasy your muse has?
Is your muse noisy in bed? How noisy? What makes them reach that level?
Does your muse enjoy teasing? Giving or receiving? How long can they stand it?
How does your muse respond to people making advances on them?
What is a kink your muse has? How would they bring it up to their partner?
What is one sexual insecurity that your muse has?
What kills the mood for your muse instantly?
What gets your muse in the mood instantly?
Does your muse enjoy roleplaying in the bedroom?
Does your muse prefer gentle lovemaking or rough sex?
Is your muse the type to fall in love from having sex or to leave it be?
What was your muse’s first sexual experience?
What was your muse’s best sexual experience?
What was their worst sexual experience?
Does your muse enjoy kissing? Caressing?
What is your muse’s favorite part of sex?
What is one area they’re great at during sex?
What is one area they could use improvement in during sex?
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happy sinday hanzo likes to give head
#you can also bend him like a pretzel#alternatively he will bend YOU like a pretzel#that's all i have to say today riveting content i know#if you ever wanna write on discord hmu....#; ( ooc )#nsfw
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i’m still kinda rusty so here’s more aimless doodle
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@coyotefaced: his head slides into place, just to his left. with a restless tilt. with weight. calloused hands snake around his front, under his arms, and hold fast, weight shifts. his forehead rests on his shoulder, his tricep. clavicles. upon each one, a mark from his lips, and a quiet little promise, a song older than either one of them could hope to grow in a combined lifetime.
he is fixated in front of the gas stove, eyes glued with almost unprecedented religion to the crackling skillet. in his hand, a spatula, and he carefully turns the eggs and ingredients within the pan with precision only someone as dutiful as hanzo shimada could manage. even making omelettes was an art form, apparently. the early morning, and the slow rise of the sun over the sierra nevada mountains has him feeling peace in a way he could not begin to describe. that - coupled with the knowledge of whom rested peacefully in their shared bed, no doubt burrowed beneath age old quilts and pillows. it’s in moments like this, he thinks, perhaps he can give himself an inch of forgiveness, as genji had requested.
he startles him - a coyote in the night, slipping up behind some lazy prey. but hanzo does not jump at the heat formulating at his back, at the warmth and strength of the man pressing to him. hanzo sighs in bliss, the sound like a summer gale as he basks in the attention provided to him. for a moment, he simply leans backwards, lulling himself into a daze with the caress of sweet fingers and mccree’s southern scent, drawing a placated purr from the dragon’s within that formulates in his own mouth as a wanting hum.
haphazardly, he turns the skillet off (omelettes impeccably made, as always), and sets the utensils aside. then, he leans backwards fully into the gunslinger’s offered body, his own killer’s fingertips skirting flesh and metal in a way that can only be described as tender and almost reverent. a light grip has him raising the flesh hand to his lips - and he flutters utterly gentle kisses across his knuckles, his fingers. rare moments, indeed, to catch hanzo as vulnerable and open as this - but it’s hard to not melt into the warmth and safety of the man behind him, and all he has to offer.
“ good morning. ”
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i’m so goshdarn soft
#they do tho#; ( mirror ) 𝙞'𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚.#; ( mccree ) 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙚.
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some one word prompts . ( send one of the words for our muses to interact based off that word )
goodbye : my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye.
secrets : my muse sharing/confiding their deepest, darkest secret with your muse.
nightmare : my muse coming to your muses aid when they awake from a nightmare.
push : my muse pushing your muse out of the way of danger.
embrace : my muse abruptly throwing their arms around your muse, hugging them tightly.
bloody : my muse coming to your muse with blood stains on their clothes and hands, shaking.
drunk : my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.
bed : my muse wakes up in the same bed as your muse with little recollection of the night before.
slap : my muse slaps your muse across the face out of anger.
gone : my muse stays by your muses side while they take their last breath.
scream : my muse hears your muse scream and quickly runs to their side.
sleep : my muse falls asleep on your muse, making it hard for my muse to leave.
stalk : my muse gets caught by your muse trailing behind them, watching them.
sacrifice : my muse jumps in front of your muse, sacrificing their life for your muses life.
trail : my muse watches as your muse traces one of my muses scares, asking them about it.
love : my muse confronts your muse about why they never say ’ i love you ’ back.
piggyback : my muse jumps on your muses back, my muse gives yours a piggyback ride.
jump : my muse runs to your muse and jumps up, my muse holding yours up by their thighs.
dance : my muse holds their hand out, waiting for your muse to come out and slow dance with them.
carry : my muse carries your muse to their house, either drunk, or a weakened state, can specify.
lighter : my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette.
shot : my muse gets shot and struggles to your muses house for aid.
wound : my muse patches and bandages a wound your muse has gotten.
fight : my muse stops your muse from getting into a physical fight with someone else.
arrest : your muse finds my muse arrested in cuffs with swarming police everywhere.
hospital : my muse awakens in a hospital, finding your muse by their side, asking what happened.
gun : my muse pulls out a gun on your muse, your muse tries to talk them into putting the gun down.
betrayal : my muse finds out that your muse has betrayed them in same way and confronts them about it.
nude : my muse walks in on your muse accidentally seeing them naked.
karaoke : my muse pulls your muse up on stage with them to sing some karaoke songs.
laughter : my muse hears your muse laughing uncontrollably and approaches to see if they are okay.
murder : my muse walks in on your muse committing a gruesome murder.
wet : my muse strips down to their under garments and runs into the water, motioning for your muse to join them.
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coyotefaced:
kinslayr said: “ take a break. ” fting soft touches or a smooch
i lost the hamilmeme
he should know better than to work this long. as good as he was, as they were, there is nothing to be gained if everything is lost to sleeplessness. he simply can’t help it. a month into this endeavor he’s still stuck at a dead end in the phillippines and their globe treading seems to halt with the first traces of humid air. deathly still and silent. walking outside is worse than any waterboarding he’d ever been prepared for.
four countries, ten thousand miles. they trail their mark by weeks, and if the payout wasn’t in the hundred thousands? he would have left it alone. they would be off on some new adventure or bender or some other poorly thought out plan of attack and still have their resources intact and –
his spiral halts. the world stops rotating for a moment, and his face melts into the archer’s rough fingers and once more he’s struck by how much comfort the simple act of existing with another human being brought. struck like lightning, struck like a truck. he groans and lifts his own hand and traps him there, momentarily.
“ gimme a reason to ” he mumbles, turning briefly. his lips meet his palm.
he’s never been one to complain. it simply wasn’t part of his upbringing. pampered though a yakuza heir may have been, there was much to be said for the cultural implication of simply putting up with it. and so he did - the travel, this horrid humidity. it was enough to murder a man, and hanzo wanted out of here faster than he’d wanted most things in his life... but he saw mccree’s burden with warmed eyes and a melted soul, and he moved to take it.
his life wasn’t so lonely anymore. his nights weren’t spent in solitude and his meals were now shared with another. his bed was warmed and danger had melted to negligible with someone like jesse watching his back and vice versa. hanzo had set out on this path to redeem himself... to put away his sins. but jesse. jesse had made this a way to live, a way to be... almost happy with him, even if it was hard to think of such things when the outside air was so sticky it was hard to breath.
his hair is down, damp and hanging about his features in water covered rivulets because he had to take his third shower for the day to simply exist. he finds mccree thinking himself into a hole, as he is terribly prone to doing, and his heart almost fractures at the sight. fond, he’s so damned fond of the cowboy that the dragons beneath his flesh practically purr in his presence, and hanzo advances on him like a man possessed. he is no longer wary of touch, affection. he seeks it now, seeks what they can offer each other.
he offers the other a slight quirk of his lips as rough palms find the hand he has placed upon handsome features. hanzo doesn’t crowd him so much as slips into his space, sweeping his thumb over that rugged jaw and allowing his free hand to card through silky brown tresses, fingering the ends almost reverently. his dark eyes are locked with his companion’s own, and he presses their chests.. their legs, simply touching, soaking in warmth and tenderness in proximity. his hand continues stroking along the gunslinger’s hair, almost reverent in his touches. “ is this enough or do you need more convincing? ”
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@bxckle-up
it was a simple enough job, and one that paid well. while hanzo wasn’t in the business of body guards, his pocket book was not so picky - and he supposed he was a decent enough fit for the work, if only because his preparedness was... paranoia level, at best. the charge is an older man, of european make, and nearly as wordless as the archer himself. short and sweet - watch his back just for the week he was in the american southwest, as the land had proven itself lawless and more violent than a man with that kind of money could stand to get through safely. frankly, hanzo didn’t care for his reasonings - and he didn’t care for his charge’s background or life story either. later, he would reflect on this notion. perhaps it would behoove him to start giving a shit.
but at the moment it means nothing.
the arizona moon wanes brightly over the sky, a speck of light in the otherwise vast darkness. his accommodations are nice enough - a room adjacent to his employer and a balcony next to his own, providing easy access in case of emergency. the bed was plush and warm and he could stand to sleep in it, but insomnia plagued the archer like the summer heat, and thus here he was, stretched out at the patio table and puffing a cigarette like he needed it to breath. his nerves felt electric, yet for some reason the dragon’s did not stir... while hanzo anticipated something to be coming, the normally preternatural sense of the spirits within him did not. it was an unusual feeling - their notions of danger not aligning. and it was starting to give him a headache.
it’s movement below that catches his attention... just the slightest flicker, enough to give him pause and stub out the cherry of his smoke. the gesture does not repeat, but he is no fool. bow and quiver in hand, he is off the balcony and on the cool grass within a second... utterly silent and imperceptible. he moves with the fluidity of a man comfortable in the shadows... a serpent in the dark, a predator sniffing out it’s prey. a lifetime of training focuses in on his senses as he rounds the nearest corner - and before hanzo can even think to do it, an arrow is nocked and his bow drawn, the shining steel angled perfectly at a head. what hanzo does not expect to find is a man - taller than he, larger in girth... and wearing the most ostentatious belt buckle he’d ever seen in his life.
BAMF. what the hell did that mean?
“ do not move, or your life is forfeit. ” his voice is loud in the dark - yet blends in perfectly with the stars: a husky tone, the growl of a dragon - threatening, but curious.
#bxckle-up#bxckle up#10000 years later I HAVE DONE IT#hope this is ok uwu#; ( verse ) 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩. → 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧
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the duality of man
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