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puppercupboard · 11 months

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Intricate Rituals

Ship: The Trapper/David King Rating: Explicit Contains: Dry humping, Manhandling, Power Struggles, Fighting As Foreplay, Marking/Possessive behavior, Fooling around in exchange for Hatch Summery: The Trapper and David have been dancing against one another for several trials now. Trapper thinks David has slipped through his grasp one too many times, and decides to rectify the situation.

There was something quite different, Trapper thinks, about the difference between David’s desire to fight for his friends, and David’s reckless want to go down swinging. He could hear the hatch, hear it singing with the promise of freedom for David should he only reach it. Trapper didn’t intend to let the man slip through his grasp easily, though. He would need to work for it.

Some prey ran for their freedom - David liked to fight for his.

He circles the arrangement of rocks like he’s waiting for something. He is. David hasn’t found the hatch yet, hasn’t found him yet, and there’s nothing for it but to wait. With the way he makes regular passes by the hatch, it might seem like he intends to close it the moment that David showed up - using it as bait to lure his quarry out and the trap that sealed his fate.

He knows better.

David might know better too, if he’d ever stop and think.

He never does - David is a man of action and hasn’t the patience for thinking. He’s seen the way that the doubt sets in when David stops and thinks. David doesn’t want that doubt to settle in. Neither does Trapper.

The Hatch continues it’s singing, even when Trapper passes by it again like some great beast stalking it’s cage. He can hear the rustling of grass when he pauses this time, just loud enough to be heard, but from all the wrong direction if David was intending to sneak past him all together.

He smiles, behind his mask - more of a sharp grin than anything gentle. The expression was as rough around the edges as he was, and nearly as hidden by the mask as his eyes were. Here he came.

He turns towards the sound of David’s footsteps when they suddenly increase in pace, and with just enough time to grab David’s sleeve as he rushes forward. David’s momentum keeps him from stopping him by his clothes, so he swings him around instead. Prevents the impact and puts some distance between them by using David’s own momentum to throw him. With space put between the two of them, his cleaver is wedged solidly into the tree growing by the rocks - it’ll make things last longer.

David lunges at him again, predictable as ever. This time he doesn’t throw him away. He throws him down, against the hard earth of the sanctum. David doesn’t shout, but he does make a sound like he’s had the air knocked out of him. Trapper doesn’t wait for him to recover, and instead drops down on top of David with a quickness and a sound that might make someone think he intends to maul him.

The struggle between them is never something that David gives up on with any level of ease. From the moment that Trapper is upon him, David is trying to force him off and fight his way to freedom. The hatch is right there, after all, and if David can get to it, he can get back to the campfire. If he is safe at the campfire, then Trapper does not get this. David doesn’t get this, either.

Trapper suspects that’s the reason that David dives for him, rather than the hatch.

Even when he’s managed to get settled between David’s thighs - he’d gotten a knee to his gut for the trouble of it all but David isn’t trying to take the fact that he’s not pinning his legs to escape, either - David doesn’t settle down any, bucking against him, heaving like he’s not quite gotten the chance to catch his breath after having it knocked out of him. The first punch swung his way is caught, and Trapper leans over his prize as he pushes that hand over David’s head and into the ground.

David is far from helpless under him, even half-pinned like this. His other shoulder comes up and the punch he delivers splits knuckles against the bone of his mask. He even thinks he hears something crack, but can’t tell where it comes from. It also shoves his mask hard and fast enough against his face that he tastes blood, his lip having split against the teeth inside his mouth. His heart rate spikes - not from the pain or anger and certainly not out of fear. That had been a good one. Well aimed. Well timed,

He growls, a wet sound with the addition of his blood in his mouth, putting weight on David’s arm as he does, and he thinks he feels David grind against him, though he can’t quite tell if it's intentional or just a result of their close quarters. His other hand pins the arm that had hit him by the elbow, and splits his weight between the dirt below his knees and David’s arms. David thrashes against him, and cusses up a storm. Trapper’s masked forehead hit’s David’s brow with a crack that makes his own ears ring.

It subdues him well enough, and for a moment, there’s only himself and David. The ringing in his ears. The sound of their breathing. David’s is smoother than his, even ragged and heavy as it was. He’s not sure if the blood on David’s face is David’s or his own. He wishes he had more hands so he could pin David by the throat and lick it off.

He’s the one who starts the kiss - tilts his head so that the teeth of his mask are pressing into David’s skin and he can reach David’s mouth past them. He’s pretty sure, when he does that, that it’s his nose that gave the crack earlier. It’s not the first time it’s been broken. If he continues this ritual with David, it will not be the last. He’s too high on the moment to be bothered with it.

The kiss is just as rough as what lead up to it. More teeth are involved than just those of his mask, and those of his mask dig into David’s mouth. Little pinprick bruises dug into flesh, matched by the parallel lines of his mask’s split jaw that digs into David’s chin. More a sign of who David had been kissing than if he’d used the teeth in his mouth to mark him. He’s getting his own bruises, too, David bites and sucks at already bleeding lips and is rewarded with a growl far less a threat than the ones that came before it.

If either of them had hands free, as they have in past encounters, this would be the part where they start pawing at each other. The part that had, until now, been happening against Walls rather than against the ground. The part where, too often, David had gotten him into the moment and just distracted enough by a hand cupping his cock through his jeans that it had end in him running away before they’d finished.

And he wanted, badly, to know what David sounded like when he came.

It’s David that starts the grinding - thighs squeezing at Trapper’s hips and hips bucking in search of friction. Two layers of denim dampen the sensations, but it’s still more than enough to have Trapper roll his hips back. He shifts his position, half forcing David to shift with him so that the tent in the front of his overalls can find the bulge in David’s jeans.

The way that David sucks in air so suddenly is a beautiful thing. Cool air rushing past both of their lips and into David’s lungs. Not the response he’d expected when he thrust against him, but perhaps David hadn’t figured out that he wasn’t in this just to get himself off. Hadn’t expected him not to just grind against his ass and let him go when he was finished.

Maybe, Trapper thinks, he should fix that.

He’s far from gentle with it. Despite the layers of rough denim between them, he grinds against David almost as if he was trying to rut a furrow in the ground with the action - every bit as unrestrained in the way he was thrusting against David’s body as he was in the way he kissed him. Then again, if David wanted him to be gentle, then he wouldn't regularly start things by fighting him.

Trapper doesn’t think that either of them would have as much fun with it that way.

His arms ache and his shoulders hurt. Earlier impacts from palettes and earlier impacts of Survivor's elbows across his back don't make the wounds hurt less. Neither does the way that he was holding himself, shoulders tensed to provide an anchor for the way he grind into David.

It's worth it. More than worth it, just to feel the way that David tries to rock back against him. To wring every little sound from the man under him like water from a rag. He swallows most of them, but with the biting and heavy breathing no small number of sounds reach his ears from the outside as well. They're rough and deep but delicious when they fill the air between their mouths.

Trapper moves a hand - the one pinning David's elbow - and grabs David's thigh instead, pulling him up harder against him, as if there were any space left between their hips to close. David's hand grabs his overall strap, tugging on it like he could close that space between them too.

It doesn't work, if only for the height difference between them. Trapper growls again, and punctuates it with a particularly rough thrust against David. He is well rewarded - the grunt that David gives in response dissolves into something else entirely. Trapper continues, and David tenses, thighs squeezing his hips harder. The sounds, sweet and lovely enough that he presses their foreheads together instead of their mouths, gets strung out into whines and whimpers he didn't think David could make.

All he can see this close - with his forehead pressed to David's and their breathing mixing quick and ragged between them - is how tight David's eyes are shut as he cums, but oh can he hear him. His lion cussing in a tone that might have been called choked if it wasn't so damned loud.

He's not far after, a mess being made in his jockstrap and only being spread as he continues to grind into David until it's hard for him to stand the stimulation. He stops, and David's thighs finally go slack around his waist as he raises up, sitting between spread legs and admiring his handiwork as David catches his breath.

David was a mess, bruised and cut from the Trial. It contrast sharply with how nice his lips looked - kiss swollen and such a pretty shade of red. Darker even than the marks where his mask had dug into his face. Those were all hard lines and sharp edges, telltale lines above and below his lips and down his chin that matched the pattern of his mask. Distinct, and all Trapper from their appearance to their making.

Where their hips had met were wet patches of denim, dark stains that he knew were a little too conspicuous in size and placement to be possibly blamed on puddles. He's proud of his work, from the cumstain he's made to the blood - his blood - that's smeared over David's lips and the dirt that is no doubt ground into the back of his shirt.

David goes to sit up, and Trapper puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down with a growl. A kiss less toothy than its predecessors is pressed to David's swollen lips. Seeming satisfied with that, Trapper raises back up, and nudges David's thigh with a huff. Silent permission for him to leave that David takes.

Even if he is a bit wobbly kneed as he gets up and stumbles to the hatch.

#pupper writes #dead by daylight #trapper dead by daylight #david king dead by daylight #trapper dbd #david king dbd #david king #evan macmillan #the trapper #david king x trapper #kingmillan #is that the ship tag?#who knows #trapper makes a wreck of david and it's Good ♥

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shhhhimwatchingthis · 2 days

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Dead Boy Detectives has everything:

Co Dependent queer platonic tough to define Best Freinds who would and have gone to hell for each other. they have an office with a cupboard full of board games, and a long history of Noodle Incident cases of '04, and also a bunch of maneuvers with code names. They are also ghosts who solve mysteries for other ghosts.

One is a sassy well read diva in a stupid little bowtie. he keeps meticulous notes, and went to hell on a technicality. he has no rizz and has a sexual awakening at the hands (paws?) of a supernatural Cat King

the other is a cheerful happy bruiser, the brawn with a pocket demension only he can navigate in his backpack, a magic cricket bat, and wells of anger deep down

they team up with a cool psychic (whos also a pretty tree) dealing with her asshole abusive boyfriend who was literally a demon while also trying to restore her memories (she also has a hilarious hate off off with the nerdy one)

then they add a sweet shut in who isn't very brave but is very inquisitive and has excellent reading comprehension and is actually the most brave

and their landlady is a hot goth Sapphic butcher who is done with their shit (but not really)

and the main antagonist is a cunt serving witch with an iron cane chewing up the scenery, just camp queen obsessed with Beauty and Revenge as she should be

she turns her crow familiar into an astrology loving twink to honeypot the nerdy one but the crow catches feelings whoops

the cat king who deserves his own mention again. he's here to seduce a stuffy British detective/tease, cause problems on purpose, reluctantly help solve those problems and mostly slut it up.

a bureaucrat learns to VERY reluctantly embrace the beautiful power of friendship after being swallowed by a fish

its set in a gorgeous seaside town with a light house! and a malt shop!

because this is all A Scooby Doo homage!

It's an episodic Case Of The Episode format! with strong serialized elements!

and as if that wasn't enough there's even Death of The Endless.

what more could any person possibly want in a show.

oh and there's a lot of really interesting themes around internalized homophpbia, abusive relationships and trauma and toxic anger and learning to love and trust and help other people again in spite of and because of the bad parts.

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