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bi-naesala · 2 months

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Dismas and lovers

10. Jester

If there’s one thing Dismas can say, with absolute certainty, about Sarmenti, it’s that he’s loud; apart from the obvious lute, which he keeps strumming in a way that really makes you want to grab it and smash it over his head, and the jingles of those stupid bells he keeps attached to his hat, he constantly laughs.

It’s not even a nice, warm laugh; it’s creepy, it’s weird, it’s… He’s not even able to describe it. Disturbed, maybe? Like you can tell something’s wrong with him, something big.

Dismas thought that, given the gloominess of his companions, that this was going to be a breath of fresh air, but that wasn’t the case at all.

Ugh, he wants him to shut his trap so bad, eternally too – that would be excellent.

With time, thankfully, he becomes more bearable, though whether that’s because he’s learned to tone down his voice, or if it’s because Dismas is slowly losing his sanity, this is hard to tell.

He’s learned to tune it out, to the point that, now, his incessant talking has become background noise, way less annoying than it used to be.

It would still be better if he found a different hobby than yapping his mouth on the worst occasions, but he supposes he can’t begrudge the guy for it: everyone copes in different ways, his is simply louder than usual.

In a way, he kind of reminds him of himself, when he was younger: loud, brash, never taking anything seriously, way too loud and way too sarcastic.

Not that he’s actually gotten wiser over the years, though: he simply learned to keep that shit for himself not to cross anyone who shouldn’t be crossed.

Maybe he’ll learn too, or maybe not. Frankly, he shouldn’t care about it and yet… He can’t help but to have a bit of a soft spot for the guy, even if he’s incredibly annoying.

He won’t try to get him under his wing because he’s no teacher, and because frankly it feels insulting to Sarmenti; he can look after himself without him nagging, though if he’s in trouble when Dismas happens to be nearby, well, why shouldn’t he give him a hand?

He’s always tried to be casual about it, not wanting to make a big deal out of it – that would be the absolute worst – but unfortunately for him, Sarmenti is more perceptive than what he’s given him credit for.

“Oh, my hero!” he sighs, in an obviously fake dreamy tone, after Dismas saves him from the umpteenth potential fight with the tavern owner – why does he like provoking him so much?

“Just shut up,” Dismas replies, looking away. “How about you stop getting into stupid fights, instead?”

Really, he should’ve learned his lesson at some point.

“Why should I? I can always count on my white knight to save me, after all.”

Oh, so that’s how it is? This guy, he swears…

“Y’know, you shouldn’t count on me saving your ass all the time. Next time I might not be there to help you.”

“You think? Curious, then, that you constantly tail me…”

Shit, he’s onto him.

Damn it, Dismas, you’re getting soft.

“I’ve had people pursue me, but never in such a roundabout way. You know you can just ask, right?”

At those words, Dismas almost chokes, but he manages not to, for his dignity’s sake – not that there is much of it to save anyway.

“The hell?!”

Sarmenti laughs, that laugh which Dismas has grown accustomed too. At least one of them is finding this funny.

“You don’t have to be shy, now,” the idiot bard insists, leaning closer and closer to Dismas. Just because he’s taller, doesn’t mean he should use it to his advantage; besides, he’s not really intimidating, not when Dismas knows he could easily take him – in a fight, of course!

… To tell the truth, he had thought about that a couple of times – every single resident of the Hamlet has thought about it, actually – but this has nothing to do with that is happening right now!

He doesn’t know what to say – he knows that any word that leaves his mouth will be used against him – which gives Sarmenti the occasion to keep babbling and babbling and babbling. Ugh, Dismas hates when he does that.

What to do? He has to find a way to stop him, or else it’ll get harder and harder to control the urge to stab him. Ideas, he needs some ideas… Or maybe he could…

Well, since he was the one who brought it up in the first place, maybe there is an effective way to shut him up; he moves quickly, without giving Sarmenti the chance to react or else he would’ve been the one getting stabbed that day – probably – because what he’s doing might not be something he likes at all, but it’s too late to stop now, not when Dismas has already gotten to his mask, raising it just enough to uncover up to his nose, then he presses their lips together. Ah, finally, silence.

This time, Sarmenti’s the one who struggles, when they pull away. The asshole teased, teased and teased, and yet he obviously didn’t believe him capable of something like that; serves him right.

“You!”

It’s Dismas turn to laugh, now, and he does without holding anything back, uncaring that he must be hurting Sarmenti’s ears with how loudly he’s being.

He’s not surprised when, moved by frustration, Sarmenti pulls him forward by his scarf and kisses him again; he could easily pull away, but he goes along with it – it doesn’t feel bad, after all.

At least, now, they’ve found a way to shut each other up.

#darkest dungeon #dd #dd1 #highwayman #dd highwayman #dismas #jester #dd jester #sarmenti #my fics #mine #dismas and lovers

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tcringetourney · 1 year

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here is the official tcringe tourney bracket! the first wave of polls will go up tomorrow. since this is such a large bracket, i’ll be rolling out polls in waves of 8. the first round will be open for a week, with waves dropped on a one-day delay! and under the readmore, you’ll find a transcribed list of the bracket. be warned, there are 128 characters here!

Left side:

Scout (Team Fortress 2) vs Maximus (Tangled)

Crona Gorgon (Soul Eater) vs Kevin (Up)

Dirk Strider (Homestuck) vs Raine Whispers (The Owl House)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb) vs Dismas (Darkest Dungeon)

Harrier DuBois (Disco Elysium) vs Ellzor Umberspore (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Shiver (Splatoon) vs Miss Frizzle (Magic School Bus)

Marik Ishtar (Yugioh) vs Tumblr Anon Profile Picture (Real Life)

Asa Mitaka (Chainsaw Man) vs Tadashi Yamaguchi (Haikyuu!)

Penny (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet) vs Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Link (Legend of Zelda) vs Kaname Date (AI: The Somnium Files)

The Collector (The Owl House) vs Venti (Genshin Impact)

Luz Noceda (The Owl House) vs Magne (My Hero Academia)

Yes-Man (Fallout New Vegas) vs Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney)

Reigen Araraka (Mob Psycho 100) vs Kuina Hikari (Alice in Borderland)

Doug Eiffel (Wolf 359) vs Jesus (The Bible)

Me (Real Life) vs Leorio Paradinight (Hunter x Hunter)

Fabian Seacaster (Dimension 20) vs Briar (Branching Out)

Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls) vs Alex Fierro (Riordanverse)

Castiel (Supernatural) vs Waluigi (Mario)

Ivankov (One Piece) vs June Egbert (Homestuck)

Mr. 2 Bon Clay (One Piece) vs Sokka (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Ur mom (Real Life) vs Leo Valdez (Riordanverse)

Pyro (Team Fortress 2) vs The Dragon (Jane and the Dragon)

Crowley (Good Omens) vs Eddy (Duolingo)

Emperor Belos (The Owl House) vs Peter Parker (Toby Maguire’s Spiderman)

Sweetheart (Omori) vs Nick Danforth-Evans (Julie and the Phantoms)

Jerma (Real Life) vs M&Ms (Real Life)

Kajiyama Fuuta (Milgram) vs Jeremy Heere (Be More Chill)

Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die) vs Ena (Ena)

Isaac (The Binding of Isaac) vs Allied Mastercomputer/A.M. (I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream)

Ranma (Ranma 1/2) vs Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

Fred Grant (Hamster & Gretel) vs Benrey (Half Life VR AI)

Right Side:

Spy (Team Fortress 2) vs Varian (Tangled)

Sanji (One Piece) vs Milhouse (The Simpsons)

Gonzo (The Muppets) vs Hero (Omori)

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) vs Makoto Naegi (Danganronpa)

Hardwon Surefoot (Not Another D&D Podcast) vs Mina Zarei (Paranatural)

Bugs Bunny (Looney Tunes) vs Sabine Wren (Star Wars Rebels)

Deuu Dino (CNP) vs Nightblood (The Cosmere)

Benny (Fallout New Vegas) vs Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Alphys (Undertale) vs Angel Devil (Chainsaw Man)

Dave Strider (Homestuck) vs Elliot Dunkel (El Goonish Shive)

The Onceler (The Lorax) vs Chuck E. Cheese (Real Life)

Buggy the Clown (One Piece) vs Hinata Tachibana (Fabiniku)

Jake English (Homestuck) vs Kris Dreemurr (Deltarune)

You (Real Life) vs Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu!)

Tome Kurata (Mob Psycho 100) vs Neptune (RWBY)

Ianthe Tridentarius (The Locked Tomb) vs Osiris (Destiny)

Vash the Stampede (Trigun) vs Fox Mulder (The X-Files)

Evan Kelmp (Dimension 20) vs Paracelsus (Darkest Dungeons)

Bocchi (Bocchi the Rock) vs Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

Haruhi Fujioka (Ouran High School Host Club) vs Bakugo (My Hero Academia)

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) vs Luther (The Umbrella Academy)

Fujisaki Chihiro (Danganronpa) vs Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Sniper (Team Fortress 2) vs Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Space Boyfriend (Omori) vs Zirk Vervain (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Rouxls Kaard (Deltarune) vs Robbie Rotten (Lazytown)

Ranboo (Minecraft Youtube) vs Arthur Dent (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)

Sakurai Haruka (Milgram) vs Luke Patterson (Julie and the Phantoms)

Hunter (The Owl House) vs Dib (Invader Zim)

Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) vs Wheatley (Portal)

Grell (Black Butler) vs Viktor Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

Shut (Go Princess Precure) vs Kakashi Hatake (Naruto)

Wonderlands x Showtime (Project SEKAI) vs Rodney Copperbottom (Robots)

#tcringetourney #tournaments #not polls

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engelsschwert · 3 months

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i can't help but keep wondering about "weird dumb thing about rey being a little sunshine and dismas hating it" xD i cannot imagine someone hating your Rey for real!

Oh this is nothing but a few words tossed around that came to me while I was slugging away at a night shift. Since I now write a longer fic I hope to incorporate this somewhere.

And you know my Rey always tries to act picture book perfect for reasons :)

Reynauld was always a stalwart of the Light, a paragon of good and everything noble in the world. Friendly, kind, selfless, an unshakable leader with a will of steel. A picture book Hero. And Dismas hated it. It seemed to come so easy to the knight, to be so friendly, to everyone, even to a lowlife like him. A little sunshine, amidst the darkness of the estate. He never seemed to lose his patience, never lashed out at anyone, a boulder in a raging storm. Disgusting.

They were often lumped together in missions, since they made an amazing team, Dismas had to agree to that. Their style of fighting meshed perfectly, a deadly dance of precision and timing. They clicked. Just not personality wise.

About a month ago, Highwayman and Crusader arrived on the old road together. This was their mission. Until now the flights had been hard but thanks to the encouraging words of the holy man and the diligence of the other two team members, things were smooth sailing. Until now.

Rations had been short from the beginning and bandages got lost on the way. All of them were in ill health and irritated as all hell.

But of course, one annoying tin bucket couldn't keep his big mouth shut.

[Something something Rey giving a heartfelt speech]

"Stop it!" Dismas growled "Fuckin' stop it already, bright eyes! This is not one o’ yer fuckin' tales where the heroes always emerge victorious! This is real life! Real life doesn't have a fuckin' 'and they lived happily ever after'. People die in real life, Reynauld! There’s no prince that will ride in on his white fuckin’ horse and save the princess! We’re fucked! We’re dead men walking! I know this is news fo’ ya, since ya probably never been in a situation like this but-"

The fist hit hard and unexpected. Dismas stumbled back and fell to the ground, head spinning and still wondering what horse had suddenly kicked his face before he looked up at the knight, fist still raised and shaking with anger.

"I have been cornered by enemies countless times. I held my dying comrades in my arms while they took their last breath, begging me to save them, and I couldn't. I picked dead bodies off the battlefield, men I sometimes knew for decades." Reynauld seethed and grabbed Dismas by the pelt of his coat, pulling him closer and for the first time, the Highwayman didn't see the calm, blue sky in Reynaulds eyes. No. Behind those eyes was raging the high sea in a vicious storm.

"So don't tell me that I don't know how it feels to fight a losing battle. But I refuse to give up. I refuse to give my enemies the satisfaction of breaking my spirit." and with those words, the crusader effortlessly pulled the scrawny scoundrel back to his feet.

"We are not dying today. I judge it so. And now fall back in line, soldier. I need you to carry your own weight."

#darkest dungeon #txt post #writing #writblr #reynauld #dismas

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accusedofsin · 2 years

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Pride month rolls in, so why not talk about muses sexuality a bit? :}

also can be used as a tiny memo for the mun...

Dismas: Demisexual nymphomaniac - which is an oxymoron on its own, almost. He can have sex with any gender, and he has to have it to remain sane and functional, however, that would be treated much like taking medicine - necessity and indifference to the partner in question, and the focus would be on sex. It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try to sate them both, but he wouldn’t bother to remember his partner for example. However, he wants sex only with those he has an emotional connection with, and to him, there’s a huge difference between “want” and “need”. Vers and usually a sub, but can be coaxed into being a dom with the right partner.

Sarmenti: gay through and through, sometimes feigns to be bicurious if only for others to shut up and stop breathing down his neck for his “deviant tastes”. Only dom and mostly top, but if he really likes his partner (or if his whim commands him to), he can play the role of a power bottom once in a blue moon. Diva in bed just as much as he is on stage, he wouldn’t mind stopping and getting out literally mid-thrust if he feels like he’s undervalued, but to his credit, he puts just as much effort and work into his performance in sex as he does into his music. Yes, he wouldn’t mind a standing ovation after sex too. No, I’m not exaggerating.

#bitey li'l rat || headcanon #sinner's ditty || all muses #the walls between realities is thin here || ooc #playing as a demisexual nymphomaniac would never stop being funny to me

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joz-yyh · 2 months

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Acta Est Fabula - Ch. 4

SUMMARY: Crimson Court AU. It took but one taste for his addiction to start. What's to become of their arrangement now? No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

RATING: M (sexual themes / messy handjobs / vampirism)

WORD COUNT: 3,724

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: The moment this story earns its M-rating. It only took me three chapters to dive into the smut this time. A new record! XD

Please consider dropping a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed! :3 (Reynauld and Dismas as well as Junia and Boudica will be appearing next chappie! Hope ya'll are looking forward to it!)

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Tardif was in word: worried. It was unlike him, being so uncertain, Damian most assuredly the cause.

He didn't feel right leaving the vampire behind (even with Sebastian around to protect him), but the flagellant hadn't given him much of a choice in the matter.

So the hunter does as he had done prior, finding a spot just far enough away from the grisly scene to hold up, waiting in case the nobleman called for him.

He's never had such troublesome thoughts before, even when he tries to think of something else, anything else, his thoughts always steer toward that roiling taboo, lips and tongue still so full of longing.

Tardif had seen his fair share of bloodsuckers before, but none were as pale and pink and bloody as Damian. And damn, those wings. The way they shined like abalone shells, a labyrinth of intricate pieces like a dragonfly's, they were among the prettiest he'd ever come across.

Fascination builds at discovering such a rare creature as this, wanting to dissect him with his hands, pull him apart piece by piece until he learns all his secret parts.

With such daydreams in mind, the brute lays out across the boughs of a tree, arms crossed over his chest until exhaustion claims him, eyes slipping shut.

He's not sure how long he's dozing for, long enough that the sky is dark with shadow, the harsh squeal of a whistle jarring him awake.

So startled from his slumber, the unassuming brute falls from his perch, landing on the sodden turf below with a painful groan.

“My, my, it seems I found you first, my dear vampire hunter,” the flagellant purrs, delighting in what mischief he's caused.

Considering how they left things, Tardif is glad to see him alive, baser instincts subdued, inherited by his more human half. He could have done without the sneak attack, though.

“Wot are ye doin’ here,” the tired warrior grumbles, reorienting himself after his unceremonious fall, working out the cricks in his back.

“Perhaps,” Damian drawls, raking eyes over his partner in crime, “I’ve missed you.”

That comment has Tardif standing a little straighter, suddenly concerned with appearances.

The vampire insists on stalking circles around him, judging which part of his body he would like to indulge in more, the danger stoking the heat in the huntsman's stomach.

“Missed your lips,” the nobleman continues, sounding more feral with each passing word, “your blood.”

Oh.

“Is it really ye,” scrutinizes the axeman, noticing a remarkable change from the last time he saw him, “Are ye still Damian?”

He is different somehow. More cutthroat than before, shedding his hapless exterior in favor of allure and power, his skin seeming to glow with a sheen of iridescent scales if it catches the stars just right. He remembers the same coloring from the soft membrane of wings, but they're absent now, tucked out of sight.

“Do you require proof,” the vampire jests, having far too much fun with his food.

“Maybe,” the brute drawls, reminding himself to stay on guard, that his friend might not have regained full control over himself yet.

The brute follows his movements from the corner of his eye, twisting just enough to watch as the nobleman creeps around his back, almost out of sight.

Tardif jumps, flinching as the devious flagellant slashes a hole in his pants, playful near his tail bone, just above his buttocks.

Bastard. Who does he think he is?

Slack-jawed by this pursuit, it takes a moment for his senses to catch up, the muddled warrior spinning on his heel, turning to face his offender with a growl.

“I know of a party happening soon,” Damian chuckles, watching as his companion checks for blood, but he was precise in his application, sparing his delicate human pelt.

Tardif snorts at the attempt. “Any bloodsucker worth their marrow would know that.”

“Then, what can I offer you, vampire hunter,” he taunts, a blonde eyebrow raised in intrigue.

“Can think of a few things,” Tardif teases, though his thoughts are far from innocent.

“Pick one and maybe I'll consider it,” the vampire prompts, head canted with thinly veiled interest.

“How bout, I give ye more of my blood?”

“But my dear hunter,” Damian argues, amused by his unorthodox choice of tactics, “that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

All too vividly, he remembers how Tardif had severed skin, the wellspring that poured down the razor's edge of the knife, wishes to reenact the same profane ritual again.

“Sure, but ye haven't heard the rest yet.”

“Oh yes, do tell.”

“Wanna see wot ye got under those bloomer shorts of yers, first.”

Seems Damian wasn't expecting that, his face turning gibbous with surprise, a slip in his suave demeanor that he never truly recovers.

“That would be moving things rather quickly, wouldn't you say?”

“Pretty sure, that's how ye want it.”

Tardif isn’t afraid to blame the spiral of debauchery onto his companion, but the dubious aristocrat has a counter ready.

“Hm, perhaps your hunger exceeds mine.”

“Depends on how big of a drink yer takin’.”

“Just how much are you willing to give?’

“Depends on how far ye want to go.”

They speak in loops, dancing around each other when Damian breaks first, revealing the true extent of his craving.

“I want to bite you, claw you, eat you,” the flagellant admits, barely able to contain his desire.

“A lot to fit into one night, wouldn't ye say,” the huntsman teases, flattered by the extensive to-do list.

“Sebastian will make sure we're not bothered,” the vampire breathes, bringing himself closer, chest to chest, claws tracing around argyle armor.

“Ye planned this,” Tardif muses, impressed as he listens to nails outline the embellishments of his pauldron, then down his arm, making him shiver.

“Planned isn’t quite the word,” Damian hums, meditating on it, “Improvised. Impulsively sought out. Needed. Any of those are more apt.”

“Then, how's ‘bout we try that kiss again,” Tardif smirks, making himself all the more delectable, “If yer up to it.”

Damian is eager for this, quickly sealing the distance, gripping the huntsman's cowl, digging claws into fabric, though, he'd rather carve marks into him.

They're fumbling with impatience, sloppy and wet with no amount of finesse, but neither of them care, not at all.

It's more satisfying than last time, more sensation to be felt in his human flesh than the dichotomy of an insect, unable to resist placing small nips against the hunter’s mouth, never quite daring enough to break the skin.

The hunter wastes no time, one hand clutching at a resplendent hip to grind them, the other reaching between puffy clothing to paw around the bulge between his partner's thighs.

“Hmm,” Damian groans, breaking off their kiss, the two panting fervently, “not the wisest course of action.”

“Oh, no,” Tardif retorts, his seduction not deterred in the slightest, “Said so, didn't I?”

“I've tried to warn you.”

“Really,” Tardif taunts, expecting more of a fight.

“You forget we have an audience.”

“Yeah? Who?”

Damian points in regards to the hunter’s skepticism, angling his attention to his ever-present scouter.

“You need not be awake for this little one,” the nobleman remarks, casting an interim spell to make the innocent Pierre curl up in sleep.

“So proper,” Tardif mocks, unlatching the now decommissioned insect from his belt, setting it aside in the brush, covering it with a shawl.

“One of us must be,” the vampire insists, waiting for his partner to reunite with him.

“Teh, not fer long,” Tardif taunts, flicking his eyes over the other man's arousal in illicit suggestion, “got somethin’ to show me dontcha?”

With no more excuses and flame tingling his cheeks, the vampire gives in, pulling his tights down just enough to free his cock, the form-fitting fabric a swathe around the base, exposing the head of his length.

Oh, well that was interesting. There are scales here too, shimmering with pink, a few ridges of rose on each side of his flared tip.

He wants to touch, so he does, the hunter throwing off his gloves, taking a portion of what’s been revealed to him by the hand, squeezing a bit too tightly.

Damian moans, losing that debonair composure he was totting not so long ago and Tardif likes seeing him unravel.

“Do be careful,” the blonde gasps, resisting the urge to buck his hips, “I am quite close.”

“Should’ve come prepared then,” the warrior smirks, easing up just slightly, letting callous fingers rub cautiously against sensitive adaptations.

“This is not a need I usually attend to,” the vampire admits, moving his hands to rest upon the sturdy huntsman’s shoulders, feeling unstable on his own two feet.

“Well, too bad for ye,” his willful partner says, stroking along the delicate ridges with his thumb, their texture both soft and rigid at the same time.

“If … if you insist on continuing, I can’t be held responsible for what I will do.”

“Heh, when are ye gunna learn, I like a challenge?”

That line has Damian bucking into his grip, driving them together faster, five-prong claws scratching lancets around his neck, panting with grandeur and Tardif eats it all up.

The hunter contemplates slowing down, giving his prudish partner a longer courtship, but then he’s addicted to this transient pace, wanting to see the inevitable conclusion, pumping him without remorse.

It has been too long and the sensation too good, the vampire grasping for purchase as the suffocating rush takes hold.

“Tardif,” he cries, cumming in his hand, cock pulsating with the thrill of release.

For what temporal relief Damian feels, his passion does not dissipate, realizing that maybe his wanton appetite was not for blood, but for the man who contained it.

“How's that hunger if yers doin’ now,” asks the smug brunette, offering gentle, coaxing strokes throughout his orgasm, “Better?”

“Unfortunately for you, dear hunter,” the flagellant says, eyes a deep ruby red, “that is not entirely the case.”

The complacent hunter is rammed up against the very tree he fell out of earlier, fronds rattling from the impact.

There's a pause, Tardif groaning from the rough treatment of his back, leaves fluttering down around them, adjusting to this new dynamic.

“As delicious as you are,” Damian propounds, boundlessly thirsty, “You may want to sit down for this. I doubt you will be able to remain upright.”

“Yer the one jerkin' me ‘round wit’ yer cock out,” he snickers, attempting to slide further up the woody trunk he's crammed against, defying recommendation.

“Teh,” the vampire scoffs in distaste, covering himself up with a cloying snap of his tights so the other would have no more room to talk.

“Wot, cock too vulgar fer ye or somethin’?”

“You're too vulgar for me,” he pants, another terse accusation meant to insult, and yet it doesn't, “but I like that about you.”

Instead of intricately undoing his belts like Tardif had expected him to, the vampire yanks his britches off as if they never had seams, the fabric falling to his ankles in tatters, exposing him completely.

Damian takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork, boring over his lower half as he was gazing at a sculpted masterpiece.

“It seems I am not the only one pent up,” the flagellant teases, dragging a nail under a heavy girth, his partner thick and raging with unspent release.

“Shut up,” he growls, his once cool attitude suddenly nowhere to be found.

He can’t very well show up naked to his superiors, will have to find some means to repair his clothes before then, but he supposes he can worry about that later.

“How long since another has done this for you?”

“Months,” he admits reluctantly, though, after thinking about it more, he amends his timeline, “Maybe years.”

“I will have to take my time with you, then.”

Tardif expected his partner to use the same enthusiasm as he used on his pants and yet the vampire decides now to torture him, dragging his fangs over dark curls, so close to his throbbing erection.

The warrior watches on as a blonde head of hair places kisses along the crease of his leg, wondering if he’ll make use of that long tongue again, if it’s something he’ll only brandish while transformed.

Claws drag languid around his other leg, drawing faint abstract shapes, palm folding flat, molding around muscle, messaging, squeezing, tempting.

Much to the brunette's frustration, demure lips stray further away from his intent, his swollen member left straining with unmet want while Damian mouths around the grooves of his pelvic bone, nipping as he had done in their kiss, making the hunter jerk and flinch.

The vampire can feel his partner’s eyes on him, loves the unadulterated fixation, especially when a fist tugs at his hair by the handful.

Damian wants to give him a show, a taste of the pleasure that still flows in his veins, mouth opening wide, biting into a tanned thigh with reckless abandon.

“Fuck,” Tardif moans, essence shooting out from his length, blazing white across his partner’s jacket.

The warrior is shaking from the force of his orgasm, needing to grasp onto the tree to keep his knees from dropping down, groaning out into the night as if he’s some felled beast.

It’s as much of a surprise for Tardif as it is for Damian, the vampire realizing the brutality of his bite, pulling back with blood smeared across his lips.

“Ye damn lunatic,” the hunter pants, liquid pleasure coursing through him, vibrating with pinpricks, “need a little warnin’ next time, before ye do that.”

“And miss such an enrapturing display,” Damian breathes, marveling at his partner's resilience, “never.”

At least he has the decency to clean him up, tongue laving over both of his dripping wounds.

—---

Their intense affections sated, now cooled to a low ember, the two men laze amidst the grass, Damian stretched out on his stomach, draped over the huntsman's legs.

Tardif had retrieved the blanket from his pack, using it now for them to cuddle upon, the humidity of the swamp doused with chill, but it was hardly noticeable, the mortal radiating enough heat to salvage them both, flushing the vampire's cool skin with warmth.

Both men are a hodgepodge of semi-nude, the flagellant's chest bare, his jacket resting over his back like a cloak while his lower half remains dressed, his partner sporting just the opposite, too many straps and buckles to trifle with divesting, his bottom half exposed.

Damian's eyes keep straying towards the coagulated sores of bite marks, his long fingers soon caressing over the twin indentations he'd left on his lover.

“I should heal this for you,” he says, worry coating his voice, remorseful of what his indulgence had wrought.

“Don't. Leave it be,” Tardif grunts, having grown attached to the ache.

“I don't understand,” the blonde says, confusion reflected in his scarlet eyes, “Why would you keep it?”

“I like it,” Tardif shrugs, “Reminds me of ye. Don't expect anyone to go lookin’ there to find it anyway.”

He’s only known the Order to check for bites on the neck, a mandated strip search not yet a standard.

“Perhaps, I should ask you to give me one to match,” the vampire offers, raising a brow of invitation as well as his leg.

The warrior laughs, a terse exclamation, instead reaching for the modest silver whistle Damian has elected to wear around his neck.

“Ye got this,” Tardif reasons, turning the trinket around in his hand, watching it gleam, thinking it suits his partner's pale complexion rather well.

“True, I do,” the vampire nods, returning his leg to its proper position, snuggling more comfortably.

Tardif lets him wrap lanky arms around his middle, bury his head into the wedge of his hip.

He passes time by playing with the fine strands of Damian's unruly hair, flaxen curls weaving through his bronze hands, practically mesmerized. It was uncommon to see another man with longer hair like his own, never truly appreciating the benefits of such soothing comforts until this moment. As serene as this sanctuary is, he doesn't imagine he'll be getting much sleep, Damian either.

“Guess we should talk more ‘bout this party,” Tardif suggests.

“Ah yes, the viscount's annual banquet,” lips mumble against hot-blooded skin, “Even if they catch wind of what's happened, it will carry on as planned. He cannot afford to look weak in front of the other members of the court.”

“Well, aren't they goin’ to be surprised when we show up,” the brute smirks, enjoying the thought of ruining yet another rich elitist’s exploits.

The vampire shifts from his spot, sitting up on his arms, staring at his lover in reproach.

“We cannot go barging in there and claim an easy victory like we did before,” Damian scoffs, deathly serious, “He'll be expecting us. We'll need a new plan, a better plan."

“The plan worked just fine last time. We won.”

Damian sighs, “Yes, but with no amount of grace. We could have been more elegant with our delivery, minimized the risk.”

Tardif shrugs, “Yeah, but we still won. And it will be harder fer them to pinpoint the perp who did it. We left no survivors.”

Maybe the flagellant is still wound up from the whirlwind of emotions the hunter had evoked in him, but he finds it necessary to humble the wall of impudence.

“I swear to you, the viscount is nothing like the baron. He has greater wealth, superior protection, better experience. The risk will be exponentially higher.”

“So, yer worried somethin’ might happen to me,” Tardif teases, a little wag of his furry brows.

The flagellant bites his tongue to keep from agreeing to that. It’s true, of course, but he doesn't like catering to the man's ego too much, inflating it more than it already is.

“You’re forgetting about Sebastian and Pierre. They could get hurt too.”

“It’s fine,” Tardif dismisses, seeing nothing to worry about, “Ye can just heal us if we do. Problem solved.”

“I’d still prefer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed,” the flagellant presses, firm in his views, “I cannot reverse death.”

"Hn, fine," Tardif relents, “We'll go over battle plans in the mornin'.

Satisfied with that, the flagellant goes lax, lounging upon the other's scaffold of muscle.

“Damian…,” the hunter drawls, hooking onto a pale shoulder, working up the courage to speak.

“Hmm,” he hums, “what is it?”

“I ... have to leave after.”

The rugged note of apprehension is not lost on the vampire's ears.

“What do you mean,” he asks, flipping over.

Tardif wants to take it back, almost hates the heartache that coats his lover’s face, knowing he marred such a beautiful smile.

“I've already taken too long. The Order, they'll send someone else to complete the mission if I don't report back. ”

It was harder to get the words out than he thought, the brute’s throat corroded with sand while his partner retreats further inward, contemplating the many consequences.

“I …I understand,” he nods, looking away, “I can take care of myself.”

“Not very well,” the brute teases, a less than perfect self-image made destitute by the endless string of flagellation.

Damian scoffs, knowing he’s right, but chooses to be blissfully ignorant on the matter.

“I don't know wots goin’ to happen when I tell them,” Tardif continues, mirroring the vampire’s distant look, ‘Nothin’ good most likely. Might even have me locked up.”

The blonde chuckles, fixing him with cheerful eyes, adopting one of Tardif’s favorite catch-phrases. “Even if they do, you fear nothing, remember?”

The hunter stares at him in awe, belief in his credence restored.

“Heh, that's right. Glad yer finally catchin’ on.”

He reaches out, holding Damian’s cheek in reward, absently running a thumb against it. The man he was a few days ago would have never guessed this arrangement to be possible, that he would be here now, thanking the Light that this bloodsucker was real. It’s what makes this next confession so painfully difficult.

“Wot I am sayin’ is,” the axeman starts, “after I tell them I killed ye and the baron, they’ll have no reason not to believe it. I’ll be held responsible for everythin’. And … if I don't come back … I want ye to run. Find somewhere else to be happy.”

The vampire’s face crumples, overrun with tragedy, unable to fulfill this wish no matter how much his lover wants him to.

“Tardif …” his voice is trembling, reaching for the hunter's wrist, mooring himself to it, “I am sorry, but I cannot turn back now. I knew when I agreed, that I would be seeing this to the end. I will die fighting for what we've made, what we started. There is nothing left for me, but this. I will destroy the Order too if I must.”

The brute can’t say he’s happy with Damian’s decision, but there is one tactic he can use to dissuade him, low as it is.

“Wot ‘bout Sebastian? Ye can't protect him if yer dead.”

Damian snarls, tears welling in his eyes at the thought of his dear friend slain in the name of such ordeals.

“Please, do not say these things. I cannot bear to think about it.” Fist clenched, determination prickling his skin, the vampire can only see victory, “Our conduct at the banquet must be flawless. We cannot fail.”

Tardif is in awe again, his own dedication to a near impossible vendetta all the more solidified thanks to his partner, refusing to give up when the other still believes in them.

“We won't, trust me.” It’s a promise and pledge, said from the bottom of his heart.

The vampire finally meets his gaze, happiness sparkling in his eyes, unfaltering loyalty. “I do.”

Warmth spreads inside the hunter’s chest at hearing that. He wonders how he could be so lucky, but then again, going renegade on a solo mission and betraying the very church he serves would convince a person to swoon his way.

Tardif returns his smile, taking his lover’s face between his hands, pushing him to lie on his back, his own body following him down.

“Then, just be wit’ me,” the brute whispers, leaning in for a kiss, Damian holding him close beneath the canvas of twilight stars.

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dukestdungeon-afterdark · 1 year

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I am. SO SORRY this took so long... I kinda forgot,,, JHDFJH

6: “shh. do you want them to hear? i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?”

My hand is firmly placed on my mouth, trying to muffle the noises escaping as Dismas thrusts into me. We had snuck away during one of Sateriasis' political dinners, hiding in a bathroom to satisfy the carnal desires that began to take hold.

Bent over the bathroom counter, eyes squeezed shut, I'm desperately holding myself back. Dismas' rough, calloused fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts, and I can tell he's also trying to keep himself quiet. With a particular angle of his thrust, I can't hold back the moan that slips.

"Shh... Do you want them to hear?" He leans to my ear, warm breath making me shiver. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I have to hold back another moan, biting my lip and only letting a whimper slip. He rolls his hips, my eyes rolling back as he rubs against me in a way that threatens to drive me mad.

"Such a dirty boy..." He mutters as his hips continue to roll into me, grinding against my walls slowly and with strength. I'm clinging to the marble countertop like a lifeline, trying to focus on my hold and not on the dick railing me. Just knowing that there could be someone who hears us, hell, who could walk in on us, makes my eyes flutter closed and my mouth open, only little breaths slipping. He moves his hand so he's keeping my mouth open, starting to pick up his pace.

"Shit... Fuck you feel so good." He groans, the rhythm of his thrusts only getting faster. "Y'know, if you don't cum soon, I'll just have to keep going," He growls into my ear. "Maybe I'll drag you out to the main table..." A knot of arousal forms in my core at that.

"Ha... ha-" I try to say something, but with my mind fuzzy and his fingers in my mouth, it's hard to form words. I want him to keep going, and if the force he's thrusting into me with is any telling, he's picked up on that.

"Yeah... I'll fuck you good. Make sure e'ry one knows how much of a slut you are..." My eyes roll back, and I feel myself getting close. I start bouncing back against him, desperate for that peak. I'm so close, so close!

A rough thrust slips and hits me right where I need it most. My eyes roll back, and a throaty, carnal noise slips. I couldn't quiet myself at this moment, even if I wanted to. My mind is melted and lost in the sensation and the fantasy. Evidently, this is enough for Dismas as well, as I soon feel a rush of warmth flood inside me. I can feel his prick twitch as he lets out every last drop. By the time he pulls out, I'm finally back in my right mind, able to catch my breath and pull myself back together. I see my reflection in the mirror, chuckling at my smeared lipstick.

"Light above..." Dismas pants, taking his neckerchief and wiping the sweat off his brow. "Can't keep doin' this... Gonna end up hurtin' myself." He jokes, giving my cheek a kiss and my ass a smack. He begins redressing himself, giving me a grin.

"Careful, don't let all that cum run down between yer legs." I roll my eyes.

"And who put it all there?" I tease, to which he chuckles.

"Got me there."

#highway robbery ♡#writing tag ♡

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rulerofthedistortionworld · 2 years

Note

hey yeah can I get a number 4,a number 7,a 12 with cheese,a 15 with bacon and extra dip and a bag full of 26 please? thanks

We’re outta bacon sorry

(also this got a little out of hand so I’ll use a read more)

4. Past labels you’ve used?

Now I’m not sure if this meant sexual identities or pronouns so I’ll answer for both

Pronouns: just she/her, I only came into my gender identity last August

Sexuality: straight and cis ofc, and I identified as bi for a while before realizing I’m pan (people don’t start bi/pan discourse, I’ve seen so many rancid takes)

7. What made you pick your name?

So Winter came from old warrior cats rps actually. I was like 11 when I started on this site and had to make up ocs to use. Winterbreeze was the first one (warriors fans know that isn’t a possible name but shut up it was pretty) and since it was a habit to call people by the prefix of the first oc in their username (since most people would have A Lot and just have a couple of them listed)

So I got shortnamed to Winter and it stuck perhaps too well

12. Favorite flag(s) visually?

Tbh I love my own flags a lot (though I like the pan flag more when it’s a bit desaturated) and aroflux is so pretty (reminds me of apples :))

Sapphic flag so fucking pretty hehe flowers and the queerplatonic also very pretty bc rosy maple moth colors :)

Demiboy has really pretty shades of blue too! Same with the achilean/mlm flag :0 And genderqueer and intersex! Okay I’ll stop there-

26. Some characters you headcanon as LGBT+?

Oh so many-

Since the darkest dungeon hyperfixation be strong, I’ll use them

(I could also use my dd ocs but those little blorbos can stay in my head unless y’all want them <3)

First off, you can drag lesbian vestal from my cold dead hands, she deserves a gf

I read like one (1) fic where Dismas was trans and I’m in love with the hc

(In a similar vein, my gf has a trans occultist oc and god she’s so smart shout out to that gay little hippie of an occultist)

Oh yeah and the one genderfluid abom fic, that’s so true, it’s what they deserve

All clowns are gay and that includes our little jester boy here

I love reymas and I am against Wife Erasure so bi Reynauld is so very true

And I’ll leave off with saying that my friend and gf call my personal estate (the one with all my little blorbos) the sapphic estate bc half of the ships are wlw lol

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samuraihighwayman · 5 months

Text

Everyone is like “oooooh Kitten must be something supernatural! Why else would he be covered up all the time??”

Like, I’m pretty sure the boy is just autistic and those are his comfort clothes, leave the boy be.

#am i saying he’s not??#who’s to say #only Speaker D knows #but i am also saying he’s probably just got super autism and likes to wear the same thing all the time and be covered up #anyway lmfao #shut up dismas #hunter the parenting #hunter: the parenting #htp #htp kitten #hunter the parenting kitten

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dukeofqueers · 3 years

Photo

be like Tardif, wear a mask.

#darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon meme #dd bounty hunter #shut up percy #this is the single most terrifying edit i ever made #i saw the one fanart with dismas and couldn't help myself #Dismas: *wears his mask under his nose* Tardif: 👁️ 👁️ *cocks gun*#also you like him may uppercut people into social distancing

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osplague · 1 year

Text

"Soothing"

"I told you to stop talking," Reynauld pulls up his face to bite Dismas's ass cheeks. More than bite, gnaw.

Dismas bangs his fist on the table as his other hand clasps over his own mouth, digging his face into the pillow. Gods, fuck, this feeling was so foreign. He feels like he could cum untouched, and the thought made him unreasonably upset.

"Reyy~" Dismas whined, almost falling to tears. "Pleasee–"

"What did I say?" Reynauld rested his chin on Dismas's back, looking down at the side of his tortured face with a cocky brow.

"I don't give a fuck what you said."

Reynauld made a fake huff, straightening his back up, "Then I guess I'll just leave you here-"

"NO!!" Dismas captured Reynauld's body with his legs, wrapping them around him. "Don't leave me…"

Reynauld's snickers, "You're a real piece of work…" He peels Dismas's legs off of him, almost effortlessly, to the naked man's dismay.

"P-Please don't leave me like this," Dismas watches his lover walk away from his backside, strutting over towards the other end of the table. "I-I won't say another word," he lifts himself up by his elbows and puts his hands together. Was he praying?

"I don't trust you keeping that mouth shut…"

Read the full fic here on AO3

#darkest dungeon #dd highwayman #dismas #dd crusader #highwayman #reynauld #crusader #reymas #darkest dungeon crusader #darkest dungeon highwayman #darkest dungeon fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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bi-naesala · 8 months

Text

Dismas and lovers

3. Arbalest

They’ve found a quiet spot where to camp, which works well in their favor, considering how exhausted – both physically and mentally – everyone is.

It’s still eerie setting camp while hearing the pigs squealing in the distance, but at least they’re all around a warm fire, now, and can take a moment to just breathe.

At least the beasts – those cowards – won’t attack them while they’re bathed in light, which means that, for a while, they’ll be safe, but it also means that…

One by one, each member of their ragtag group falls asleep, save for one, Missandei, who busies herself with her crossbow. Maintenance is important, after all: she wouldn’t want her crossbow to malfunction during battle, leaving her group with less firepower.

It’s just an excuse, she knows that, especially considering how carefully she prepares before each expedition, but as long as it manages to keep her awake, she doesn’t care.

She can’t afford to fall asleep, not when she’s the only one who can keep watch. Something bad will happen if she even just closes her eyes.

… She is tired, however. She can’t deny that.

Despite this, she pushes through the fatigue, bullheaded as always.

She won’t let anyone down. She won’t let anything bad happen, not if she can help it.

She won’t let history repeat.

It says something about her ability to focus, that she startles when something, or better, someone, plops on the ground beside her. She hadn’t even heard him move…

“Dismas…”

“Hey, what are you doing?” comes the reply, as the man in question gets more comfortable, and closer – funny, she would’ve pushed him away if he had done that before they… well…

“Maintenance,” Missandei replies, without adding anything. Even if she were in the mood for some conversation, she certainly doesn’t have the mental capability to do it now. She just has to remain awake…

“Maintenance, huh,” Dismas begins, “Of your already perfectly maintained equipment…”

Oh, he noticed…

She feels his gaze on her – it feels like he’s staring into her very soul – and while usually she would meet it – she’s not afraid of a little staring contest – this time she keeps hers low, focusing instead on her hands. Huh, was her vision always this blurry?

“Missandei… You’re exhausted.”

She knows it already, she doesn’t need him to spell it out for her. Still, she has to hold on.

“I’m fine,” she protests, shaking her head… only to feel dizzy once she does that.

“You clearly are not,” Dismas insists – right now, he should really shut up. “I’ve had my fair share of rest, I can keep wat—”

“No!”

She doesn’t exactly shout – she wouldn’t want to wake the others – but her voice is still louder than before.

He has to understand that he just has to let it go, that he can’t convince her to let herself be vulnerable like that.

She was asleep, the day those people attacked her house.

Not even the ruckus they were doing as they got closer – those shouts, sometimes she thinks she can still hear them – had been enough to wake her up. Her father had to run all the way to her room for that.

What if she had been already awake? All that time lost could’ve been used to escape, before it was too late! Instead, his father had to stay behind to grant her a chance to save herself.

She’ll never forgive herself for it, even less if she lets something similar happen again.

She cannot fall asleep.

“Missandei…”

She shakes her head – she was losing herself in her memories – before looking at Dismas. She expected to see pity in his eyes, but she finds something different instead: understanding. He knows how she feels.

“When you’re alone on the road, you can only count on yourself, that’s true…” he begins. “And when things change, it takes a while to get used to them. But you’re not alone, now.”

Yes, she’s aware of that, but…

“You have people backing you up, now, and you’ve got to have faith in them. If you don’t, the entire group is at risk,” Dismas continues, and suddenly his gaze feels miles and miles away from there. Missandei has heard stories, about fallen warriors prior to her arrival, killed by monsters only when they were lucky: some slowly lost themselves to the darkness, some had even turned to the party in a fit of madness, and had to be dealt with. She’s lucky she’s never had to deal with any of this.

Eventually, Dismas finds the words again.

“If something happens while you’re asleep, you’ll be woken up and we’ll deal with it together, but you need to get some rest. Let’s admit something happens now, while you’re still awake, what do you think would happen? Would you be able to fight?”

She wants to say “yes”, but… Would she really be able to fight in her condition? She can barely see straight – imagine her having to point her crossbow to a target and then fire it…

In the end, she can only shake her head, defeated.

Before he says anything, Dismas goes to hold her hand, squeezing it as a reassuring gesture.

“If not in them, at least have faith in me.”

… He’s right, isn’t he?

As much as she would want to, Missandei can’t survive on her own, especially not in these circumstances. They’re all in this together, meaning that if one piece falls, all the others will too. She can’t allow that to happen.

And Dismas, well, she can trust him, can she? He’s been good to her so far; he deserves a chance.

“I… Fine,” she finally relents.

She leans to the side, resting her head on Dismas’ shoulder. She’d move to a more comfortable position, but she doesn’t have the energy to do it; besides, it’s not too bad: actually, it’s reassuring being this close to him.

“Thank you…”

“Heh, it’s nothing,” Dismas replies, before taking off his coat and resting it upon Missandei’s frame. “Now, for the love of the Light, sleep.”

And sleep she does, kept warm by the fire and, especially, Dismas’ presence.

#darkest dungeon #dd #dd1 #dismas #missandei #highwayman #arbalest #dd highwayman #dd arbalest #my fics #mine #dismas and lovers

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