kinslayr

[kinslayr]

starter call ,     feel  free  to  combine  multiple  prompts !

send  😊  for  a  happy  starter .

send  🙁  for  a  sad  starter .

send  🙌  for  an  excited  starter .

send  💢  for  an  angry  starter .

send  🌷  for  a  soft  starter .

send  😝  for  a  silly  starter .

send  💬  for  an  angsty  starter .

send  💀  for  a  violent  starter .

send  🌹  for  a  romantic  starter .

send  🔞  for  a  sexual  starter .

send  👼  for  a  comforting  starter .

send  👿  for  a  threatening  starter .

send  💥  for  an  argumentative  starter .

send  ⚔️  for  an  action  starter .

send  💋  for  a  flirty  starter .

send  ❤️  for  a  loving  starter .

send  🔪  for  a  hostile  starter .

send  👁️  for  an  envious  starter .

send  ❗  for  a  frightened  starter .

send  🩹  for  an  injured  /  sick  starter .

send  ⚠️  for  an  urgent  starter .

send  🥂  for  a  celebratory  starter .

send  👫  for  a  reunion  starter .

send  💤  for  a  lazy  starter .

send  🛡️  for  a  protective  starter .

send  🏠  for  a  domestic  starter .

send  🔥  for  an  intimate  starter .

send  ☂️  for  a  weather  based  starter .

[kinslayr]

As good as I am with a bow, I promise you I was better with a sword.

[kinslayr]

⛈ hey uh what’s the new ship name for McH.anzo

[kinslayr]

                      My FATE is written in BLOOD.

© // carrd

[kinslayr]

Hanzo’s arms- I mean new animation

[kinslayr]

@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.

[kinslayr]

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. ”

[kinslayr]

@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.

[kinslayr]

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?

[kinslayr]

happy sinday hanzo likes to give head

[kinslayr]

i’m still kinda rusty so here’s more aimless doodle

[kinslayr]

@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. ”

[kinslayr]

i’m so goshdarn soft

[kinslayr]

  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.

[kinslayr]

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? ”

[kinslayr]

@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. 

[kinslayr]

‪the duality of man‬