#trip wrote
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radio waves.
okay i toss this to the wolves. i've only seen like 1/4th of the game so if u tag this w spoiler mentions pls add that theres spoilers bc I Will Read Every Tag.
18+ for heavy gore. also. trigger warning for gore.
sanmos deimos/sanford lil hurt/comfort bc deimos has adhd/autism it's true he told me himself also ty @sparrowchute for editing this bc i would never 4.8k words enjoy
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Hearing the alarms on the rooftop had sucked ass, but in the sewers? Oh, Deimos wanted to kill himself.
The sound pierced directly through his headphones as if they were made of clay. They werenât. They were a good sturdy pair of a headset; Deimos just kept them a few sizes down for them to be pressed into his head. For something he found as a joke, his dumbass trademark had become a lifesaver. He never understood the phrase âso quiet you can hear a pin drop,â until he found these. And, well, after Doc fixed them up a little, but even before that they were perfect. He could finally hear and not hear at the same time. Instead of hearing every single creak of metal or wood, pounding enemies a dozen feet from him, with stomping footsteps behind, he just heard the footsteps. Instead of being in car crashes and hearing every sputter of the engine, every shriek that the windows made as they broke, he just heard Sanford asking if everyone was okay, Hank complaining about an illegal left, and his own laughter. It was like he was a radio, and the dial finally found a sweet spot.
But somehow, those tall ass dinner bells had shot right through the shells. The headphones were no match for the blaring sound the towers bellowed, and they didnât stop. It started out as just an annoying ringing in his ears, fine, nothing he hasnât dealt with before. But they really didnât stop. Deimos and Sanford were careful, duh, but zeds werenât. Little tiny pebbles that touched a goddamn pixel within their range weren't careful. Sure, yeah, it was pretty much par for the course for the two of them, but it sucked ass. And then sucked more ass.Â
Every ricochet of drops hitting the sewer water echoed in Deimosâ ears. The water simply moved and bounced in his eardrums and never stopped, because thatâs how water works. The old metal creaked inches from age and what lived behind the bars, and even with their sneaking and stealthy footsteps, they sounded like slams against the ground. The feeling of it too was louder to himself because it was, yâknow, himself, and Deimos wanted to punch through the side of his head and close his eardrums by hand. He had considered if that would be beneficial in the long run, but they didnât have enough bandages for all that jazz. He was in hell, and heâd have to deal with it for now. Deimos had done better with worse.
It still SUCKED MAJOR ASS though.
Especially when Sanford had simply explained a plan for once they get out of this place, and Deimos just had to find a dick joke in there, and moved his hand slightly too far to the left and set off an alarm. The same constant ringing that ripped through his skull, except it was amplified by the tunnel of steel encasing the two of them. A shit-fart of a cacophony. It got to the point where he couldnât tell if it was a zedâs skull or his own cracking in half. The latches of the gate audibly flaked rust as they wailed open, letting a disgusting amount of sludge that pounded against the water beneath it, all combined with the swampy zeds treaded forward with footsteps that sounded like they belonged to moist giants. Not only that, but one of them (if not both) had been pushed into another alarm, which doubled the process.
In case it needed reminding in the last five hundred and eighty-seven words, Deimos wanted to kill himself.
The fights werenât exactly a big deal physically. The second wave sort of (literally) swamped them, but it wasnât anything the two of them couldnât handle. Sanford was slashing his hook through skulls, using various heads as surprisingly useful hammers. Deimos switched between his gun and his bat, but he was off his game. Sanford was there, and his guard over both of them around zeds made up for it, but at some point Deimos couldnât take it anymore. He took out his gun, and didnât let go of the trigger. The noise was worse, the recoil creating a sound that not only shot outside his body, but inside, too. But, hey, if his ears were going to bleed, he had to do some of the damage himself. Go big or go home, and the latter didnât have much meaning for him. So he flooded his ears until he felt Sanford pull his wrist aside.
Deimosâ head was pounding. Luckily, Sanford took a second to scan their surroundings to inadvertently give the other a chance to compose his face. He pinched between his eyes, not a single beat in the air dropping. Everything was at a constant state of screeching, despite the outward danger being nill. He was about to consider busting his head open and ripping out whatever part of the brain registered sound when Sanford turned back around. He knew Sanford was scanning him to make sure he was okay, and at least it seemed Deimos could keep it together on the outside, in the dark. Sanford quickly gestured for him to follow, hugging the wall a bit more. Deimos knew that also meant to parrot his movements and follow him carefully.
âUp ahead there seems to be a dip in the wall,â Sanford said whispering, though it hit the other like he was speaking in his normal volume, âWe should be able to at least breathe for a second.â
âGotcha,â Deimos whispered in a desperate amount to not say anything more. He was talking as quietly as he could, an attempt to not even be able to hear it himself, but he still did. It received a nod from the other, so at least he knew he was keeping it together at the moment. They shuffled, and he put up with it, his head on a swivel as natural. His face was constantly twitching in discomfort.Â
The ringing didnât stop. It didnât even start to ebb off.
Luckily, the little dip had been just a small, closed off alley-sorta thing. The two of them checked it out for any ironic traps, but Deimos called it quits far before Sanford and sat himself down. His ass hit the ground and his hands immediately flew up to press his headphones deeper into his head. It muffled some of the water, but the metal was loud.
Sanford wasnât looking.
One of his hands was pressing against the edge of their little hiding hole while the other was gripping at the handle of his hook. His head was jotting around as he scanned the surroundings. The exit was in sight, but it was still quite a few tip-toes away. There was little to no telling of what was behind that door. Of what Sanford could remember, he could work out some kind of probability, but itâd be a long shot. And with shots on the mind, he thought back to how Deimos just let it rip with his gun. The coast seemed clear, but Sanford didnât turn around when he sighed.
âYou didnât have to drop all that lead, yâknow?â Sanford couldnât be too mad, because he had spread the bullets out to save him the trouble of being tackled down, âI have no idea when weâll be able to stock up again.â
âHey, Sanford.â Deimos' voice was a bit out of breath, but not enough to be concerning; there was a small laugh in it. He tried for it to not sound too forced, because Sanford would notice immediately, so he kept thinking about that time Sanford blew himself up with a grenade. It had been really funny. No one had time for Deimosâ drama, and he knew that, but he wanted to peel his flesh off until that was the last resort. âBe quiet for a sec, âkay?â
Sanford knitted his brows. His sense of sight was more focused than his hearing, but he at least gathered a decent idea that his partner definitely needed a break. He couldnât lie, he wouldnât mind one himself, but he knew they didnât have the time for his sore muscles. He didnât like zeds. He really, really didnât. Itâs not like Deimos did either, he knew they both wanted to get the fuck out of here, but they canât take a short rest while theyâre in initiative. With his back turned, Sanford had no idea of the actual state his partner was in, but with the super funny joke he had made earlier that set off the alarms had him adverse to the idea of him taking him too seriously right now. Itâs not like he was madâ no, the joke had been super funny and worth itâ but again, they both wanted to get the fuck out of here.
âDeimos, this really isnât the time to fuck around, weââ
âSanford, seriously,â Deimos sounded annoyed, but that same rhythm was practiced in his voice, âShut up for a second.â
Okay. Okay, that was a bit weird. Surely Deimos wasnât doing the thing where he hides something tying him down under jokesâ oh, Sanford felt like a fucking idiot for even considering the possibility that Deimos wasnât covering something up. They still seemed safe for the time being, at least. He turned his head around to look at the other, confused and concerned.
Deimos was reaching his limit. Usually, when they found a spot they could sit, they had a quiet moment while Sanford jotted some things down and Deimos did fuckall (mostly sneaking in a cigarette) and took an actual second to themselves. This wasnât one of those moments. His hands kept pressing and pressing and pressing his headphones closer to his head. He didnât know if that was helping, or if it was making his circulation fucked up enough to cover up more sound. He didnât want to be a dick, he really didnât, but if Sanford didnât give him a minute of silence Deimos would have to be getting his ears sewn back on when they got back. Or bash his head in with a nail bat until he could pick his own brain out; whichever would be faster, either were inevitable. Sanford was walking over to him. The only eye Deimos had opened twitched over to him for a moment, seeing only concern in his face. Despite trying to keep that feeling away from him, he found comfort in the care. He couldnât comprehend that right now. His skin was buzzing with the reverb of every sound. Sanfordâs shoes scraped against the ground in a sound that made his skin burn and sent bullets straight into his brain. His ears couldnât stand it. The usual soothing gruff in his voice sounded like static squeaking. Deimos knew he was only trying to help. The part of his mind with sense had instantly regretted not asking for it in the first place, but Sanford didnât shut up, let alone shut the fuck up, and the care didnât make sense next to the rattles of metal, or the groans of rusted gates, or the sheet of crashes sewage water created.Â
âHey, whatâs wrong? Are you hurt? I have someââ
Deimos opted to push his headset against his head until the plastic was digging into him. One of his knees dug into his forehead as he killed his own ears himself. Once again, Deimos had to stumble into an alarm.
âSanford I need you to shUT THE FUCK UP!â
Oh. Oh, shit, something was wrong. Sanfordâs shoulders fell. He didnât turn around fast enough.
The yell was loud enough for some attention to be drawn. Dammit, if Sanford had just noticed Deimos was struggling earlier he couldâve used that very convenient spot to actually help him. The gates behind him opened with moans of familiar fuckers, and another slab of guilt stacked onto Sanfordâs shoulders when he realized heâd have to turn his back again. But he had to take care of this before he could do anything for Deimos, so he tugged the rope on his hook for the handle to be back in his hand. With Deimosâ hands still clutched to the side of his head, he still moved his elbow towards his gun before Sanford put out a hand. Unfortunately, he had to talk.
âDonâtâ I got this, just stay here.â
He hopped out of their ratting spot and hooked the closest zed by the legs. He flung it against the wall, hopefully buying himself some time to spread the zeds farther away from Deimos. Being in the middle of it all would be a bit of a risky move alone, but heâd find a way to make it work. Deimos hadnât looked injured (but, then again, goop thrown up on him from a sewer creature could probably cover up blood) but he looked in pain. Either way, something was wrong, and he hadnât realized. Sanford was so good at noticing his hints, but Deimos was just as good at faking it.
A fist flew its way through a zedâs stomach, making it fall to the ground with a gross squelch, leaving Sanford nothing but a bloody fist. He lifted his boot to crush its head, his foot soon flushed to the ground as if he stepped on a rotten pumpkin. If pumpkins had a lot more blood, at least. His less bloodied arm swung his hook into the throat of another, throwing the freak into another zed to buy him time. With said time, he ended up getting punched in the face and grabbed by the arm. He fought them off with a decent amount of effort before he loosened the rope on his hook to return the punch he owed, and kicked the other zed in the chest to send it down. That same leg stayed up to kick against the standing zedâs shoulder to give him the leverage to grab the thing by the sides of the head and twist its head off. Its bones let out a crunching sigh of relief, as if they had been begging to be free of the rotting meat they were trapped in. It fell towards him, which he dodged right back to the two zeds that were standing once again as they were still held together like a fucked up shish kabob. Sanford pulled the rope tighter to his hand as he lunged himself forward and stomped on their chests. His arm ripped the blade forward, short enough for a flick of his wrist to hold the hilt in his hand. It slashed against the zedâs faces with a rough, wet tear. Good.
There was a tug at the back of Sanfordâs leg that led to an instinctual kick. He spun around to see a zed with no legs reaching towards him, its spine poking out of its body. His free boot sent a quick kick up into its open mouth, easily knocking the top of its head off with a swift movement, leaving nothing but a forgotten bottom jaw. A few more surrounded him, green foam bubbling from its mouth. This wasnât going to be easy with a single weapon. His eyes jotted down to the dead legless zed, the spine writhing out like a larva trying to escape. Sanford ripped it out of its body, feeling it creak and shatter under his hand like spikes of wood. He slammed it into the side of another zedâs head and pierced it through and through. The head stuck on the barbs of the spine kept the thick sludge of a head stuck to it as Sanford whipped around once again and scratched another zedâs face before shoving it down. He used the other, splintered end of the spine to stab another in the face, the movement causing the stuck zed head to drop to his fear and roll around the other corpses.Â
It wasnât long until most of the heads were bashed in, but there were always, always ones that still got back up. Sanford gripped his hook as he threw it forward, giving its rope some slack. He didnât have time for this. Something was wrong with Deimos.
âJust stay the fuck down, you chuââ
With precision and instinct Sanford hopped to the right to avoid a litter of bullets heading straight towards a zedâs head. It went down immediately, and Sanford couldnât help but turn his head. Deimos was laying on his side with a cheek pressed to the ground with his gun matching his line of sight. His cheeks felt wet, and he was really hoping it was just miscellaneous goop and not tears. In Deimosâ mind, firing a few shots was the least he could do. In Sanfordâs, it instilled another set of determination. He was hurting, but still at his back to help him. Sanford gave him a stern look, but his smile was sweet; a very âthis stupid, stupid manâ smile.
Deimos could only fire so many bullets. Partially because it was making him go insane, and he wasted most of his ammunition in a fit of rage. Still, it sped up the process of taking the rest of them down, but even with the extra hand Sanford eventually gave him the signal to stop. Deimos didnât know why, but he did, because his aim was getting worse with disorientation swarming his head. Sanford mustâve noticed that. Or maybe Deimosâ aim had been fucked up enough to graze his armâ he didnât know, and as long as Sanford wasnât screaming in pain, it didnât seem like he had to care.
The scariest part was making sure Sanford could creep his way back into the pairâs hiding spot without attracting further attention. Deimos really couldnât care much, as long as Sanford was okay. His feet kicked their way to the back of the wall and had his shoulders fight to climb its way up for him to (lopsidedly) sit up. With his back against the wall, he finally had his hands free to push the padding against his ears closer. The pressure on his head was uncomfortable, but so were the bullets pelting their way into his brain through sound. The protection of the headset began to press into his skin more this time, the pads flat against the sides of his head. He could feel the plastic sewing its way against his skin. Was this the last resort?
Sanford stepped back into the tiny ally while looking in each direction.Â
âSafe,â He said, mostly to himself, and turned around to run to Deimos and ended up skidding on one knee to meet his level, âIâm here, Iâm here, whatâs up?â
An annoyed groan ripped its way through Deimosâ tired, overworked lungs. How is Sanford not getting it? With great dramatic effect with his elbows, he pressed the muffs closer and closer and harsher against his head. He could feel the plastic scrape against his skin.
Thatâs when it all clicked. Sanford felt as if he failed a test for not realizing it sooner.
It was pretty common for certain sounds to cause Deimos to say his ears were ringing, but they always seemed to pass. Or, at the very least, was bearable enough for him to seemingly ignore it, but this one had been constant. They had been careful, yes, but shit still happened, because they were Sanford and Deimos. When the first alarm was tripped, he thought the majority of Deimosâ aggravation at it was the surprise. But adding on the fact that a few more went offâ Hell, Deimos was probably still hearing the first alarm screeching in his ears.
Sanford crouched down in front of Deimos. His face was twitching with discomfort, and his chest was rising in panic. Slow enough for Deimos to stop them, he moved to be next to him. His arms laid around his shoulders at the same speed. Deimos didnât stop him, but he also didnât loosen up on the force of his headphones. Sanford tried to lower his voice to a point where he could hardly hear it himself, but he didnât know how loud that was going to be right next to Deimos.
âIâll keep an eye out, just try to breathe.â
And then, finally, Sanford shutted the fuck up.
His hands gently laid around Deimosâ. He wished he could stop shaking, but the weight of Sanfordâs arm was enough to hold him a bit more in place. Sanfordâs fingers laced with his and gently tugged them away from the casing of his headset. They gently lifted his hands up, only a little, so that the blood coming from the small cuts on his head would slow at some point. Sanford applied the pressure with his wrists, an amount that kept it from hurting him, by gently guiding his hands off carefully. Deimos let him. The pressure slowly released, and blood suddenly felt normal throughout his body. Sanfordâs wrist still kept down the pressure while he let his hands be peeled back. Sanford was still keeping an eye out. He could breathe. Deimosâ hand relaxed against his palms. He finally untensed his own wrists, but the muffling of sound was still there with Sanfordâs help. One of his arms was around his shoulders.
Deimos closed his eyes and leaned a bit more against Sanfordâs arm. The light blanket of quiet that attempted to cover up the overwhelming noise of everything ever was now in his hands. The warmth, and sticky-icky shit from fighting off icky-sticky zeds, was something Deimos could focus on. Everything was still there, threatening to overwhelm him to the point of crushing his own skull with his headphones, but the small bit of reduction was now thanks to Sanford. Deimos lifted his fingers to lay over Sanfordâs as much as he could. What was left of a comfortable volume was easier to focus on with the outside comfort.Â
Thankfully, their hands only moved to adjust to the position of Deimos turning his head to look up at Sanford. It hurt his head and his throat when he cleared it, trying to find the right way to talk with the least discomfort while he still had time.
âSorry,â He sheepishly said in his anxiety riddled smile, âI didnât mean to, to uh, yâknow, yell at you. Not really.âÂ
Sanford shook his head. He turned his body a bit more to face Deimos, his hands holding the mittens around his ears in a firm but not intense force, but his arms were relaxed.
âI know, I knowâ it probably hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. I get it now,â Sanford whisper-talked(?) in a way like he was trying to turn a dial on the radio, trying to find the sweet spot, âDonât worry about it, okay? Is this helping?â
He gave Deimos more time to breathe. His hands shakily reached up and placed themselves on Sanfordâs biceps, taking a deep breath in, and a long breath out. It still felt as though if the two of them lifted their hands his ears would start spewing blood, but it didnât seem like either of them would be letting go anytime soon. Right now, Sanfordâs hands were keeping that overwhelming static that threatened to incase his senses at an almost bearable bay. When he looked up, the worry and care in Sanfordâs face made him glance away. That part of sense in his brain that wanted to reach out for his help before? Yeah, it's at the forefront of his brain now. And it made his chest warm, and his face hot, and a bit more guilty for accidentally yelling loud enough to make Sanford lose whatever recuperation time he had in this spot. More sensations for him to focus on.
âYeah,â Deimos admitted when he looked back at Sanford with a hint of a smile, âA little.â
A little while ago, Deimos had been writhing in discomfort, when he could laugh with broken ribs. But the moment Sanfordâs hands could take their place beneath his, Deimos was giving him an embarrassed smile. A dopey grew on his face. He pressed his forehead against his. He could hear Deimosâ smile in his laugh.
Sanford pulled back with a huff. Now he knew what the problem was and, luckily, found a temporary fix. âOkay, howâre we gonna keep this right until we can take a look at it and see what we can really do?â
Deimos grinned. âI donât have a fucking clue.â
Sanford was already nodding before Deimos even answered, because he already knew he had no fucking clue. Not only because he just knew him, but he knew how Deimos also couldnât think when everything sounded like pot pans being slammed together. He hummed in thought, before he sat up. Softly, he reversed his hands with Deimosâ. He made sure Deimosâ palms weren't pressing down too hard once they were placed on the shells, before he (reluctantly) let go. He reached into one of his side pockets before motioning Deimos to put his head down. With a confused look, he did so.
He heard the sound of fabric against the shell of his headphones. The fabric pulled tighter, similar to the added weight Sanford had applied. He felt Sanford securing something on his forehead.
âOkay, let go, see how that feels.â
Slowly, with genuine fear, Deimos lifted his hands. He blinked. It wasnât as filtering, but it was similar. It was bearable. He moved to touch his forehead, feeling a knot with little, messy bits of fabric sticking up. âWhatâd you do?â
âI ripped a bandana a few days ago and kept the scrap, just in case,â Sanford said as quiet as he had been, âItâs not enough to cover up much but, hey, looks like it came in handy. How is it?â
Deimos adjusted it. He moved the fabric to the middle of his muffs, tightening the knot a bit. The creaking of the metal wasnât as taunting. The water sounded farther away. There was only one test That could really see if itâll work at all.
âUuuuuhhhh,â Deimos adjusted to the sound of his own voice before he looked up at Sanford, âSay something.â
Sanford smiled. His hands moved up to hold Deimosâ shoulders. âHi, Deimos.â
The soothingness of Sanfordâs voice was back. Everything else felt like needles trying to use him as a pincushion, but needles were better than bullets. In two little words, Deimos was melting with a silly smile, finally able to straighten his vision and being held by what he saw. âHey, Sanford. You smell like shit.â
Sanfordâs snort was a happy chime in the musky air. âYeah, because you smell any better. Works?â
âYep, Iâm just a drama queen.â
Sanford huffed. He shook his head, his hands falling down Deimosâ arm to his hands as he started to stand up. His grip wasnât tight enough to force Deimos to stand; it was his choice to make. He took it. They didnât let go of each otherâs hands. âYouâre not a drama queen. Next time, just say something, okay? Yeah, weâre in a crunch here, but thereâs time for you.â
Deimos bit the inside of his lip. If he hadnât been crying earlier, he came pretty close to then and there. He gently shoved Sanfordâs shoulder, but put a hand on his bicep to keep him from actually moving. âDammit, dude, donât get so sentimental.â
Sanford smiled. There was his stupid, stupid man. He couldnât help but chuckle, which made Deimos snicker under his hand before he took a step back. Unfortunately, he did have to reload his gun, because they did have to move. Sanford still kept a watchful eye out. Once Deimos was standing at the ready, Sanford couldnât help but smirk. He flicked one of the loose pieces from the knot around his forehead.Â
âIf youâre a drama queen, is this your crown?â Sanford teased.
With a flushed face he waved away Sanfordâs hand, the two of them in hushed laughter. Deimos shook his head, and this time Sanford knew he was fine. The playfulness in his voice was real. âIâm mostly good now, but maybe you should still shut the fuck up.â
Sanford laughed as Deimos started to walk to the opening of their hide-y hole, quickly stepping to his side. âWhat? Should I carry you, too, your Highness?â
Deimos groaned into a flustered laugh as Sanford grinned, gently nudging his way in front of Deimos to guide him out in the best direction. His arm still brushed against Deimosâ.Â
He smiled up at his partner.
âCâmon, get a move on,â Deimos said, âI still wanna get out of this place alive."
#i tried to have fun with the narration bc while i take these guys seriously no i don't#like i cant. and thats fun#it's a fun new writing way#also again this is my first madcom fic and also i just met these guys so#jazz hands#also only like a day or two ago did my brother editor told me that in the live action deimos' headphones were in fact noise canceling so#w for me#anyways i'm just gonna load this w tags don't mind me#madness project nexus#madness combat#madness combat sanford#madcom sanford#mc sanford#sanford#deimos#madcom deimos#mc deimos#sanmos#trip wrote
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Sunbathing
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: youâve decided to sunbathe topless, or as your husband Joel would put it, youâve decided to torture him.
Warnings: needy Joel, kind of sub!joel, unprotected p in v, premature ejaculation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), come play.
a/n: i sunbathed topless for the first time and well this wrote itself
"You've seen my boobs before babe" A soft laugh bubbled up your throat as you turned your head left.
He wasn't even pretending not to be staring.
"Not like this"
You smiled, "what does that even mean?"
"not out... here"
You lowered your sunglasses to see him better, tilting your head to ask for further explanation
Yes you were outside, by the pool of the beautiful summer house you'd rented, but you didn't get how that made any difference, they were the same boobs he'd seen hours prior in your bed.
"I'm not used to not doing anything about them"
"ah" you hummed "is it that hard?"
You didn't even need to look at the smirk painting his face to regret your choice of words.
"yeah babydoll, it's real hard"
You only needed to lower your gaze a little to asses his statement.
"You're incorrigible"
"And you're torturin' me darlin'"
"How am I torturing you?" you laughed "I'm just taking advantage of the privacy we have to get a good tan"Â Â
"and besides, I seem to remember how hard it is for you to see me with the whole bikini on too"
He sat up, the sunbed squeaking as he faced you.
"It ain't my fault if my wife's so pretty it hurts"
"you get so dramatic when you're horny" you chuckled, rolling your eyes.
He smiled, letting his gaze wander all over your body for a good minute, before getting back at your face
"nothin's gonna happen is it?" his tone was full of hope nonetheless
"no baby" you shook your head
He sighed, dramatically letting his head fall to his chest
"I'll have a swim then"
"have fun honey"
__ __ __
"darlin'?"
Not even ten minutes had passed, and that scene from the Barbie movie with the "Ken! Go for a walk or something" line couldn't not pop into your head.
"yes?"
He was standing right next to your sunbed, dripping wet and blocking out the sun.
"don't ya need sunscreen?"
A soft smile pulled at your lips.
Ten minutes, that's how long it took for him to come up with that.
"I put it on already"
He wasn't gonna give up, not on the first try.
"how long ago?"
"an hour, I think"
"the sun's real strong now doll," he said, drying his hair with a towel before throwing it on his bed "I think it's best if you put some more on⊠I can do it for you if you don't feel like it"
You chuckled, looking up at him, but he stayed in character, continuing to look oh-so worried about your safety.
"Somehow I knew that offer was coming"
"'m just worried about my wife, 's all"
he'd crouched down, taking your hand in his
"mh-mh" you hummed, sarcasm tracing your tone
"can't have you get sunburt now, can we?"
"no, we can't" you played along, smiling at him
"'f course" he murmured, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips as he grabbed the sunscreen.
"I'm so lucky to have such a caring husband"
"I'm the only lucky one babydoll"
He gave you one more kiss, before he leaned away and got to work.
He squeezed some cream into his hand, but to your surprise, his hands didn't land where you'd expected them to-
Only his eyes were betraying him. They were only on one, or actually two things even when it was your legs he was massaging.
The coldness of the cream and his hands felt good against your warm body, so much you couldn't help but hum appreciatively.
"feels good?"
"yeah baby" you breathed as his hands made their way to your thighs.
It always amazed you how hands so big, rough, and strong were able to be so gentle and soft on you.
You couldn't deny the shivers running up your body when his fingers reached your inner thighs, getting close to your core.
"what's that?" your husband was smirking like a cat, as he dedicated himself much too long on that spot.
"I didn't say anything"
If he thought this was gonna work, he was wrong. It was too hot, and you were too relaxed to do what he so obviously wanted to do... although you both knew how much you liked seeing him desperate...
He still didn't touch your boobs, no, next were your shoulders, then your arms, and then... when he felt on the brink of exploding, when he couldn't stop himself anymore, he squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen in his hands, and oh so gently started massaging your tits.
He couldn't stop a soft groan from fleeing his lips.
It felt amazing- of course it felt amazing, but you didn't wanna give him the satisfaction, and this was mostly for him, not for you, so your eyes remained closed as you pretended like it was nothing.
But that only lasted so long, because Joel could endure just about 30 seconds of that before he was bending down, and his mouth was sucking your nipple.
"Joel!" you gasped, your eyes snapping open just in time to see him climb onto you to straddle your waist, and then go right back to groping and licking and sucking your nipples like it was his life long duty.
"baby you're all wet" you tried complaining, but the smile on your lips was everlasting.
He looked so damingly cute like this, looking up at you with those big doe eyes as he worshipped your tits.
"so are you"
And yeah so what if you were- there's only so much a woman can do in front of this.
A soft laugh spilled from your lips as your hand went to find a place in his hair, your back arching to offer more of yourself to him.
"I don't even know how good it is for you to be licking sunscreen"
The look he gave you made it very clear he didn't give one single fuck.
And just when you were about to protest again, his teeth had gently bit your nipple, and a moan had spilled from your lips.
he took that as an incentive to go further, his hand slowly sliding down your belly, between your bodies, until it was seeping underneath your bikini bottoms.
"babe-" you stopped him, your voice breathless
His hand stopped on your mound as he groaned in frustration.
You could feel his rock-hard cock on you since the moment he straddled you- the man was desperate.
"please doll" he murmured against the soft skin of your chest in between kisses "Gimmie something-anythingâ he pleaded âHave mercy on your poor husband"
Your response was mixed between a laugh and a moan
"I can take care of you if you want"
He shook his head, his teeth grazing your nipple "Need to feel you darlinâ"
Again, a soft giggle rumbled from your chest
"âS too hot to have sex here baby"
His hand had gotten out of your bikini to reach the other on your waist.
"the pool- the ground? fuck- anywhere you want sugar, just tell me where"
His clothed hard-on was rubbing against your core now, and fuck but once again youâd succumbed to Joel and his goddamn irresistible neediness.
"bring me back into the house"
It was like heâd been waiting his whole life to hear those words.
In a haze of kisses and lust, heâd picked you up, letting you hold onto him by wrapping your arms and legs around his body as he hurriedly walked into the house.
He didnât make it far enough to encounter a single surface- and perhaps that was because heâd stopped looking and placed you against the wall the moment heâd passed the threshold.
His mouth was on your tits again, his cock was out, and his fingers had pulled your bikini to the side.
He said nothing as he slowly began entering you, the only sounds in the room being your moan as you threw your head back, and the groan he emitted, muffled by your skin.
âOh fuckâ you cried once he bottomed out.
Your husband was a very gifted man.
"'m not gonna last"
He sounded like the mere act of talking was taking all of his energy, and yet he was thrusting up into you like it was a matter of life or death.
"'s ok"
"I've been hard since you took your top off" he murmured, his breath fanning over your chest âyou-you-jesusâ
Your left hand passed through his hair, softly soothing him.
ââS alright baby, donât wait for meâ
âYouâre too fuckinâ-â he tried to speak, but he was interrupted by yet another groan
âWhat?â you taunted him, a smirk pulling at your lips âwhat is it baby?â
His eyes were wide with desperation as he looked up at you, as his mouth stole languid kisses from your tits.
âToo hot- too goddamn perfectâ
You bit down a grin at that, still stroking his hair
âI love you babyâ you breathed, his cock reaching the deepest, most fucking amazing spot inside you in the meantime.
The moment those words left your lips your husband was fucked- the only words he was able to mutter were a series of -fuckshitgoddamn- before he inevitably reached his peak, filling you up with rope after rope of come that never seemed to end.
He remained like that for a little while, buried inside you, eyes closed, mouth still connected with your boob, until you left a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, and he woke up from his heavenly trance.
He let out a soft groan as he slipped out of you, and took his time letting you down.
You were smiling at him with that soft smile that melted his insides right up, and he couldnât help but lean in and kiss it, kiss you like you were a soft delicate thing that he was scared of breaking.
âI love you moreâ he promised, kissing you again, even if you were smiling.
âFeel better now?â
You said it like he was a kid with a stomach bug, and he couldnât help but laugh a little.
âYeah darlinââ he murmured against your mouth âthank youâ
âYou donât have to thank meâ you laughed, but he was already shaking his head
âYes I doâ
And without further explanation, heâd dropped to his knees.
He slid your bikini to the side once again, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.
âBaby you donât have toâ you tried to reason with him, but his mouth was already latched to your clit, and your hand had already flown to his hair.
He remained on your bud long enough to make you desperate, and then he started focusing on your whole core, his tongue lapping between your folds with what could only be described as feral hunger.
His come was everywhere, and yet he didnât care, he was happy tasting the mix of your fluids, because thatâs how Joel was- a nasty nasty man- only for you.
So much so that you felt his tongue enter your hole, simulating what he was doing just minutes before with his cock.
âFuck-babe-â
Your moans were breathless, more like whines, like prayers.
You were looking at him as he was looking at you and Jesus... He looked fucking heavenly.
His hair all tussled from your fingers, his blown-out pupils, his never-stopping tongue-
âJoelâ you cried, but he didnât dare speak a word as he went back to your clit.
âShit-baby- god!â
You had to tighten your hold on his hair as your orgasm crept up your body- and it was as you heard him groan with pleasure, as he sucked your clit into his mouth like a man starved, that it all came crumbling down, and you felt your body light on fire as your climax took over.
You were moaning and crying into the air for a good minute before you were sane again.
Only Joel hadnât stopped eating you out for a single second, and even then, he looked like he had no intention of doing so
âBaby-babyâ you whimpered, having to literally pull him away from your core.
He was smiling like a kid, and you couldnât help but follow suit.
He put your bikini back in place, and then stood up, his hands lingering on your waist
âYouâre crazyâ
He couldnât help but kiss you before answering,
âYou make meâ
#i wrote most of this on the train next to this cute old woman with whom I talked the whole way back home#it was a very wholesome trip tbh#if you ignore me writing smut while she tells me about her niece#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#joel miller x f!reader#sub!Joel#sub joel miller
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könig cumming 2 quickly
written by a minor
könig gets all shaky whenever he's abt to cum, n it gets sooo much more intense when he cums early :( he gets worried for a second, worried that u would be disappointed in him for cumming this early on. it's honestly ur fault, u just feel too good that he can't help!!
könig tries his best to make you stop grinding onto him, trying to delay his impending orgasm. but ofc it doesn't work, u were so needy for him all day, and needed his cock right then and there!!! he honestly loves it when ur all over him, he feels so useful to u :(
könig's hands tremble at your hips, whimpering your name out so sweetly, 'bitte, bitte..' he pleads. könig's mind turns to mush, poor guy doesn't even know what he's pleading for :( he's so conflicted, he doesn't want you to stop, but he doesn't wanna cum so easily like a horny teenager :(
it's been so long since he's felt this fucking good, maybe it's the long deployment getting to him. könig spurts his load inside of you, shame coursing in his veins. his mind is racing, not just from the orgasm, but from the pure shame he's feeling :( he's a seasoned colonel, a grown man, yet he comes unraveling at your pussy.
as you momentarily stop, könig utters a quiet apology. 'mein liebe.. i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to cum so quickly,' he mutters. you reassure him, telling him that you're glad you made him feel that good. könig still feels bad, cumming before you did, so he makes sure you cum an extra 2 times!! he wants to make it up to you, not like you didn't enjoy it ;)
#lala speaks âčË. âĄ.đ„ Ę Ë#könig x afab!reader#konig x afab!reader#könig smut#konig smut#könig headcanons#konig headcanons#könig x fem reader#konig x female reader#könig#konig#könig mw2#konig mw2#HELP LMAO i wrote this on my camping trip#its very nice out here#love it#i loveeee the beach omg#my hands r freezing tho#its so cold
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telling my future kids that they were romeo and juliet
#FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS#shakespeare wrote about them no proof just trust me bro#LOOK AT THEM#NO NOTES đ„čâ€ïžâđ©č#trips talks#the ones who live#the walking dead#rick grimes#michonne grimes#richonne
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Tips for writing London as a setting if you've never been there
London's a popular place to set a story! It's often imagined as sexy, cool, and suave. Whilst this is sometimes true, the thing that it predominantly is, is absolutely and entirely chaotic! So here are some aspects that you may not know about:
-Public transport is absolutely crucial to the infrastructure! Few people drive in London because of how well connected it is, and bus stops and train stations are often used as meeting points or details in directions.
-There's a LOT of crime, like, a lot. All cities have it, but London has a lot of variety. Stabbings are incredibly common (to the extent where it becomes a bit of a joke), almost everyone has a story where they've found or seen a dead body, and there are many money laundering/drug den fronts under the guise of highstreet shops (they're not well hidden).
-Despite it's chaos there's a strong code of etiquette most people hold themselves too. Some are actual rules (stand on the right side of escalators, don't queue jump) but some are simply social expectations (don't stop in the middle of the pavement, keep your bags close to your body, don't take up multiple seats.)
-A lot of tourists to the city are COMPLETELY FERAL and widely hated. They'll stand in the middle of the road, block up bridges, swing around cameras and selfie sticks in busy places, and completely ignore the social standards of polite society. People Do Not Like This. (also American tourists have a tendancy to just randomly start conversation with people? It's a bit weird and generally not done but it's not strictly a bad thing.)
-Rush hour is INSANE. We're talking almost static traffic, trains so packed that you're pressed into people on every side, buses that are so full they can't stop to let more people on. Some days it's better some days it's worse, but if you can avoid travelling at those times YOU DO.
-There are a lot of scam artists on the streets. Most major cities have these, they suck, they're aggressive, and they'll take your money! Some give you flowers and then force you to pay, some take photos of you and boost up the price to get them, there's always new ones, they're relentless, and you've gotta tell them to fuck off.
-Black cabs are not at all popular for normal people! They cater to tourists, rich people, and old people. They're great, the cab drivers are hard working and very knowledgeable, but they're also very expensive. Awful as it is, uber's cheaper if you're desperate, but buses go everywhere so it's just not really worth it.
#I wrote this ages ago but I just went on a trip to America and realised actually this might help people#London is truly an ecosystem of it's own that you get so used to it kinda feels weird to be anywhere else?#But it's a very walkable city and I like it so I'm okay with that đ#Tma#The magnus archives#Tma fanfic#Fanfic#London#Writing#Writing tips#fanfiction#I don't know what else to tag this so let's just hope it ends up with the right people somehow đ
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I need to read a fanfic where Zayne and MC are in a car trip to [insert vacaction destination] that it's like idk 4-6 hours long so MC feeds snacks to Zayne in red lights, they play some nice music and talk at first making jokes abt their plans for their trip and then shameless flirt but as the time goes by, the topic of their conversation turns more serious, like MC starts open up about not having grandma and Caleb anymore and how "She used to visit this place with them before and they will never be here again" and then Zayne comforts her and he too, opens up a little about living great part of his life without his parents, and they keep open up and become an emotional mess appreciating how they have each other in their lifes now so everything the have gone through feels less heavy because they have each other to rely on and they just keep talking, MC starts crying a little so Zayne gets out of the road and parks in a place with a nice view and he asks if she's fine, she reassures him while he wips her tears and they talk a little bit more, he hugs her and soothes her and tenderly kisses her forehead and promisses her that she won't have to face anything alone ever again because he will always be by her side and so she kisses him and they start making out passionately and then-
#love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#zayne#lads zayne#l&ds zayne#l&ds#love and deepspace zayne#lnds#idk I just need some good fic with angst and hurt/comfort#i would write it myself if I had the time lol ajdkd#or energy#but it's been ages since the last time I wrote something#idk long car trips with another person always force you to open up somehow ahahaha#I just hope you see the vision
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Need a break from this webcomic I'm drawing, anyone got anything Desmond x (Altair, Ezio, Alex, etc.) related that I could sketch out đ€š or AU stuff
#also there was this one fic for another fandom I wanted to draw and I was waiting for my trip to end#so I could get back to my computer#I was so so so in love with the fic the story the way the characters were written#I wrote down a note for myself to remember#AND IT GOT DELETED IN THE TWO WEEKS AFTER I RETURNED#I'm so sad#honestly just thought it was slow to update and wanted to reread it but couldn't find it#anyways hope the author's alright bc it always worries me when authors or artists delete their works and disappear#like Drobvirks :'(
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Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 12 (End!)
Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Ao3
[Warning for brief references to sex; nothing explicit happens]
-
For the first time in a long time, Steve wakes slowly.
His alarm isnât blaring at him and neither is his brain; itâs quiet, and the room is filled with morning sun, and Steve is warm, and comfortable, and still a little muzzy with the heavy sort of sleep that usually only comes to him when heâs physically exhausted or feeling safe (usually the former).
He blinks at the blurry mess of color that is his wallpaper and tries to remember what day it is, tries to will himself to get up, because heâs sure thereâs something heâs supposed to be doing, but itâs hard. Heâs so comfortable. He turns his face further into his pillow, pressing in where itâs warm and firm andâ breathing.
Steve sits up.
Beside him, Eddie is still asleep, lying sprawled across the mattress with one arm flung half over the side and the other stretched out where it had been curled around Steveâs back before Steve pulled away. Thereâs a red mark on his chest where Steveâs head had been resting, and heâs sure thereâs a corresponding splotch of red on his cheek.
As the sleepy fog finally lifts from his brain, the previous night filters back in, and Steve canât help the smile that follows. He shifts a little just to feel the pleasurable ache in his muscles, to feel the warmth of the cocoon of sheets around them, to feel the way the mattress dips beneath the weight of a second body, and sighs contentedly.
Heâs just considering lying back down when Eddie groans, a drowsy frown pulling at his face.
âWhereâd you go?â he asks, eyes still closed (at least, Steveâs sure thatâs what he means to ask; it comes out a little more like âWhrd yâgo?â, and heâs pleased that his ability to decipher Eddieâs half-awake mumbling hasnât suffered in its absence of use).
âI didnât go anywhere, Iâm right here,â Steve says, laying his palm over Eddieâs chest and running his thumb along the ridge of his collarbone.
Eddie hums, bringing his hand up from over the edge of the bed to place it over Steveâs. ââs too early to be awake,â he mutters, a little more coherent this time. âCome back.â
âItâs not even that early. ItâsâŠâ Steve ducks and squints a little to bring his alarm clock into focus, everything still a little blurry without his contact lenses in. âHoly shit, itâs past ten.â
âSee? Early.â Eddie reaches up with his free hand to pat around for a hold on Steveâs arm so he can tug at him. âLay back down.â
âI never sleep this late, what the hell,â Steve mutters, and Eddie finally opens his eyes, giving Steve a grin thatâs equal parts sleepy and self-satisfied.
âWore you out, didnât I?â he asks.
âOh, yeah, Iâm exhausted,â Steve deadpans, before proceeding to flop back down onto Eddieâs chest, smirking at the little âoofâ he earns. âI donât know if I can even move. Hope you donât have to pee anytime soon.â
Eddie shrugs. âEh, if I do, itâs your bed, not mine.â
âEw. Dude.â Steve props himself back up on his elbow in order to wrinkle his nose at Eddie.
âYouâre the one who brought it up,â Eddie says with a smirk, and â shit, Steveâs really missed this.
Eddie is one of the only people in the world Steve feels like he can completely be himself around. Heâs second only to Robin (everyone will always be second to Robin, thatâs just a given), and thatâs what had devastated Steve most when heâd heard what Eddie had to say about their relationship. He thought heâd let Eddie see all of him, and Eddie hadnât seen anything worth wanting.
Worth loving.
But that, apparently, hadnât quite been the case.
âHey,â Eddie calls Steveâs attention back, picking his hand up off his chest to press a kiss to the back of it. âWhereâd you go?â
No, that hadnât been the case at all.
Steve shakes his head. âNowhere,â he promises. âIâm right here.â
He leans down for a kiss, and Eddie pulls their combined hands aside to meet it, bringing his free hand up to curl into Steveâs hair, cradling the back of his head.
It isnât as though all the hurt has healed â all of Steveâs doubts and insecurities havenât magically disappeared. As much as Steve might wish, it isnât as though the last several weeks never happened. They canât change any of that now, but Eddieâs honesty, his opennessâ openness from them both will take them a long way forward.
The idea still sits as a bit new to Steve: honesty. Heâs used to people saying one thing and doing another. Heâs used to being expected to decipher convoluted social cues and having to intuit unspoken messages. Heâs used to not being allowed to ask for what he wants and just accepting whatever heâs given.
This, he thinks, will be better.
The kiss doesnât end so much as it slides into another, and another, until Eddie and Steve have rolled to their sides, legs tangled together beneath the blankets, mouths sliding against one another, lazy and unhurried. Thereâs a hint of heat beneath their movements, something that could spark into more if they let it, but Steve is content with just this for now. There will always be time for more later.
Eddie hums deep in his chest when the kisses trail to an end, voice still warm and sleep-rough, and Steve rests his forehead against Eddieâs, unwilling to go too far away just yet.
âGood morning,â Steve says when Eddie opens his eyes again, and he can feel the puff of Eddieâs sigh against his lips.
âDonât say that,â Eddie whines. âIf you say that, we have to get up.â
Steve gives a little laugh. âWe canât stay in bed all day, Eddie.â
âSure we can,â Eddie drawls, pushing at Steveâs shoulder until he takes the hint and rolls onto his back, only to have Eddie lay down on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. âIn fact, I think thatâs a great idea.â
âDo you seriously have no other plans for the day?â Steve asks, as if he has any pressing engagements himself.
Eddie presses a kiss to the base of Steveâs throat, humming thoughtfully. âMaybe one or two,â he says, trailing a few more kisses up the side of Steveâs neck.
âBesides that,â Steve huffs, though he makes no move to stop Eddie when his hand comes to rest on the waist of Steveâs pajama pants.
âWhat am I, an event planner?â Eddie asks, but he does pull away from Steveâs neck with a petulant (and largely exaggerated) sigh. âFine. How about we stay in bed most of the day and then⊠we can go back to mine for dinner?â
Steve looks up at Eddie, brows drawing together as he thinks. âWhatâs at yours that weâd need for dinner?â
Eddie shrugs. âNothing, really. Itâs just been a while,â he says quietly.
Andâ well, it has. Eddieâs trailer used to be one of the places Steve had felt most comfortable, but he hasnât spent more than a few minutes there in passing since heâd emptied it of his things. He misses it there â how warm and welcoming it always was, how heâd felt like he belonged there.
What if he goes back now and itâs changed? What if he feels as out of place there now as he does in his own house?
He must spend a moment too long thinking about it, because Eddie begins to backpedal.
âBut if you donât want to, we totally donât have to, we can justââ
âNo,â Steve cuts in. âLetâs go to yours for dinner.â
A slow-growing smile pulls across Eddieâs face, and Steve can tell heâs fighting the urge to duck and hide it.
âWayne misses you, yâknow,â Eddie says, and now itâs Steve whoâs ducking away from eye contact.
âMisses my cooking, I bet,â he jokes, but Eddie shakes his head.
âMisses you. He does like you, Steve. He asked where you were, afterâ after everything,â Eddie says, and Steve isnât sure what the hell heâs supposed to say to that, or if he even can speak around the sudden, weird choke of emotion in his throat. Eddie, as if he can sense his dilemma, saves Steve from having to respond. âHe misses your cooking too, though, letâs be real. He had the audacity to tell me the other day that my mac and cheese isnât as good as yours. It was your recipe!â
Steve laughs, and Eddie really plays up the offense.
âAnd you know the worst part? He was right,â Eddie laments. âItâs the same recipe, how does that even work?â
âSo, what Iâm hearing is that you want me to come to your house and cook you dinner,â Steve teases, smirking up at Eddie.
Eddie subsides just a little, packing away his theatrical energy in order to smile back down at Steve. âI just want you to come over. Iâll order dinner if you want. Hell, Iâll submit myself to public ridicule and try cooking for you again.â He cups Steveâs cheek in one hand and leans in to kiss him gently. âWhatever you want, Steve, Iâm there.â
âYeah?â Steve asks, quiet, almost breathless with the depth of Eddieâs promise.
âYeah,â Eddie answers, his smile as ridiculous and smitten as the look on Steveâs own face must be. âIâm right here with you.â
And Steve decides he likes the sound of that. He likes it very much.
-
Thank you to everyone who gently threatened me encouraged me to continue the first part of this story, it's been so fun to write and to see everyone interact with! You've all been very kind, and I hope the ending satisfies <3
Tag list: @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#eddiesteve#the one person whose perspective we haven't directly seen yet...#anyway this was a trip I haven't updated something AS I've been writing it since I was maybe in high school#solar wrote
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Elain tightened her grip on the dagger and moved quickly, aiming the blade toward Azrielâs side with all the precision sheâd learned. But he was faster, sidestepping her strike and catching her wrist in a firm grip. Before she could react, he twisted her arm behind her back, pulling her hard against him, his other hand gripping her waist.
Her breath caught as her back pressed against his chest, their bodies flush. The dagger was still in her hand, but it felt like nothing more than an excuse for the closeness they both wanted but hadnât admitted.
The cool evening breeze brushed against her skin where her dress parted at the side, the soft fabric fluttering against her thigh. But all she could focus on was his breath against her ear and the low rumble of his voice. âElain,â he said, his voice tight, though she sensed the tension beneath it, the same tension she felt in her own veins. âYou shouldnât be too impulsive.â
Her heart raced, feeling his body so close. âIâm learning,â she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Azriel didnât let her go. He guided her hand, the one holding the dagger, down to her exposed thigh, keeping her still against him with his other hand on her waist. The cool touch of the steel against her skin sent a shiver through her, but it was the slow, deliberate way he moved that made her pulse quicken. His body was warm and solid against hers, and the thin fabric of her dress did nothing to hide the sensation of him, every breath, every subtle shift of his muscles under his tight Illyrian leathers.
âImpulse is dangerous,â he continued. âIt can lead to mistakes⊠costly ones.â The dagger moved higher, the tip grazing the soft skin of her hip just beneath the open slit of her dress. The cold metal contrasted sharply with the heat of his hand as it guided hers, the touch of his fingers almost too much, almost too intimate.
She swallowed hard, trying to focus, but it was impossible. His cedar scent surrounded her, filling her senses. The dagger trailed higher, up her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist. âSometimes,â she whispered, âimpulse is necessary. You canât always hold back.â
His grip on her wrist tightened slightly as he moved the dagger higher. When the bladeâs edge grazed the skin just below her breast, Elainâs breath hitched, her nipples hardening instantly. The sharp sensation made her pulse race even more, her body responding with a surge of heat pooling low in her belly. The memory of their almost kiss hovered like a ghost, the mistake they had nearly made.
âAnd if you donât take the risk,â she countered, âyou might miss your chance.â
Azriel stilled for a second , the dagger just below her collarbone. She couldnât stop the soft gasp that escaped her lips as he moved the blade up, tracing a path to her throat. She felt herself growing wet and wasnât sure why this felt so exciting, wasnât she supposed to be afraid? But instead, she needed to feel more of him, to know that he wanted this as much as she did.
âItâs a dangerous game,â he growled, his other hand moving to her hip, his fingers digging in, realizing what this was doing to her. The dagger pressed lightly against her throat, just enough for her to feel the cold edge, a reminder of the danger. It only made her more aware of him, of the heat radiating from his body. He was hard against her lower back, his body reacting to hers, sending another wave of heat through her.
She leaned back into him, letting herself feel the full weight of his body against hers, he shuddered. They definitely werenât talking about training anymore. âMaybe,â she breathed, her voice catching as the dagger rested against her throat, âsome things are worth the risk.â
Azrielâs breath hitched, his chest rising and falling against her back. The dagger slipped slightly, and she could feel his struggle, how much he was holding back. His gaze burned into her, and she fought not to give in under the weight of it.
âAnd what if the cost is too high?â he asked, his voice hoarse, thick with meaning that went beyond the lesson, beyond the blade.
She angled her head slightly, just enough to look up and meet his gaze, her lips inches from his. âWhat if itâs not?â she whispered, her voice steady despite the wild beating of her heart, the challenge in her eyes daring him to close the distance, to take what they both knew they wanted.
For a moment, everything seemed to stand still, the only sound was their ragged breathing, the only sensation the warmth of his breath against her lips. The tension between them was electric, pulling them closer even as it threatened to tear them apart.
But then, just as quickly, Azriel released her, the dagger slipping from her throat. âYou shouldnât be so reckless,â he said, his hand lingering on her thigh where the fabric of her dress parted. His thumb brushed the bare skin, sending a final shiver through her.
She turned fully to face him, the dagger now in his hand, but her focus was entirely on him. âAnd you shouldnât be so afraid to take what you want,â she replied.
For a long moment, he didnât move, his gaze locked on hers, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them, the dagger still clutched in his fist. She stepped back, putting distance between them.
âLesson over,â he said, his voice strained as though the words were dragged from him. âWeâre done for today. Rhys and Feyre want us in the River House. Prepare yourself, Iâll be waiting downstairs.â
Elain watched him go, the lingering sensation of the dagger against her throat making her skin prickle with a desire she could no longer ignore. As she stood there, she knew one thing for certain: this battle between them was far from over.
#wrote this during car trip cuz I was bored#pro elriel#elriel#elain x azriel#elain archeron#elriel fanfic
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If the Olympic flame needs to travel from the Tuileries to Stade de France, I can think of only one person who can make the trip in time
#BRING THEM BACK FRANCE#masked torchbearer#olympics#paris 2024#paris olympics#olympics 2024#WAIT I LITERALLY WROTE A FIC ABOUT THIS TRIP
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Imagine:
Vash: *talking to Meryl but he gets distracted by a little worm flying around, and his pupils grow big.*
Meryl: *rising her hands and snapping her fingers at him while doing pspspspsps to get Vash's attention back.*
Hello helloooo I'm back :D
#trigun stampede#vash the stampede#meryl stryfe#vashmeryl#art request#I was absent for the last two weeks I hope I didnt make you wait too much ahah#I went on a Paris trip and then got sick when I came back sob#ALSO I dont remember who that person is but#@ that tumblr user who wrote headcanons about plants mmrping when they're happy or surprised#I love you and I will draw Vash mmrping from now on this idea is the cutest thing ever#trigun fanart
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Reader who rambles about history the moment Trapper asks about the moon landing. You sitting on his chest as you enthusiastically talking about the space race and while yes he finds it fascinating, but there are words you're using that he knows nothing of. So he just staring at you with the lovesick eyes watching the way your body bounces as you enthusiastically describing the entire world holding their breath sitting around their TVs, he knew about those thanks to The Onryo and Hillbilly though he still remembered freaking out about it then. You just going on standing up on the bed quoting the iconic moon landing quote, "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."
"do humans live on the moon in your time?" Trapper asks with a big grin, it sounds so cool and to have humans finally able to travel to and from the heavens. Surely they did more then that. Your face dropping as you admit that in your time they had only done that once, but they are hard at work trying to get to Mars... Or at least corporations are. NASA's budget has been cut a lot, but hey you can explain the lesbian space crime incident and that some billionaire launched one of his cars into space just because he could. So that's something...
#dead by daylight#dbd fanfic#dbd x reader#dbdkillerxreader#dbd killer x reader#dead by daylight fanfic#smut#the trapper#gn!reader#evan macmillan x reader#the trapper x you#the trapper x reader#history is wild when you look#I wrote this up before seeing the ask#I think Trapper would also get tripped up by the fact that gay people can and do get married in your time#in terms of lesbain space crime the astronaut Anne McClain was cleared and ex wife was federally charged for filing a false report#fishy is rambling
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âAlright, I think your fever rose again a bit⊠So, get some more sleep. Iâm not going anywhere.â
âOkay⊠Thank youâŠ. Dad.â Yuma yawned then fell asleep with his hands curled by his cheek smiling.
Yakou looked bewildered by that last statement. âYeesh. Thatâs some delirium⊠What the heck was in that medicine?â
Are those lines familiar to any of you? Well they should be. Because today marks a full year that I shared my first RainCode Fanfiction Home Is Where The Heart Is to the world on AO3 for the first time. Its the anniversary of my first Raincode fic!âš
Rambling below
This fanfiction was my first real first step into getting noticed by the RainCode community. I usually made sickfics for any of my fixations and when I wrote it the community was still fresh and new. I was really nervous to share it due to me still being pretty shy about my guilty passion at first...đŠ
But this fanfiction, was what really got me recognized in the community. Sure my sprite edits were something as well, but this story is one of the most read in the community along with many others. This fic showed what I was truly capable of in my skills as a writer and as a illness/sickfic enthusiast. đĄïž
In a way this fic got me a little more confident in trying to focus more on my gp and honestly its made me so happy. Happier than Iâve been in a LONG time. Itâs thanks to peopleâs love for this story that I was able to get this far and get to know the community. And to be known for my gp and not be judged, but instead admired by others?? It really is such a dream come true for me⊠đ„č Drawing for it and for this series is truly my calling as a fan artist.
Happy Anniversary HIWTHI. One full year since I truly began to spread my wings as a Raincode and illness whump creator. I decided to try my hand at making an anniversary art for it. Tbh back when I wrote the story, I had little to no confidence in my art skills at all. But now that Iâve gotten better, I drew something for it. I do worry the pose is rather boring because itâs the same as 2 other images that were made for me⊠xD But come on, you know its the cutest scene in the story đ„° (and ugh yakou was a pain to draw AS USUAL ><)
Yumaâs home is truly with the NDA. The illustration shows him still sick but happy. Laying his head in the lap of his trusted chief covered in his dirty but cozy bedâs duvet, and surrounded by all the stuff his friends got for him to help him to recover~đ
I hope you like the picture. And to celebrate this storyâs 1 year anniversary, feel free to tell me your favorite part if you have read it! đâš And if you havenât, I hope you do sometime!! đ
#whumpcode#rain code#master detective archives: rain code#yuma kokohead#yakou furio#pixeldoodles#my art#sick comfort#sick character#fanfiction#fanfiction art#Iâm so glad I got this done on time#im actually on a trip rn and this was the first art I drew away from home#this story means so much to me#even though I wrote it lol#i actually wanted to draw this for a long time#but I wanted to get better w art first ;w;#this pose was so tricky⊠><#but I think it looks decent enough#happy hiwthi day đđĄïž
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triannual accumulated clefdraki art dump... some strange little timeline out there where theyre happy i think
#scp#dr kondraki#dr clef#half of this is closet fanart for that god damned fic i wrote a year ago if im honest im still not free of it#inherent romance of road trips etc etc#clefdraki#art
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happy very belated 10 year birthday mr lodger !!!
#!! apparently it was knock knockâs 10 year anniversary a couple months back.. i wasnt awareâŠ..#shoutout the blog i follow that started posting knockknock again <3 its been a while since i went hereâŠ#fun little trip down memory lane !! i like themm#and for context second photo is about his name bc its reallt funny to me. why does the other version of their name mean blockhead. so mean#knock knock game#knock knock#ŃŃĐș ŃŃĐș ŃŃĐș#no tags for this game.. so sad#my art#why r they so hard to draw. look different every time.. so sad#also. shoutout the person who wrote a house without a door. that interpretation infected my brain
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y'all, my friend got me a dead boy detectives sweater for my birthday and i'm crying this is the best gift i've gotten in a long time!!!
#let's just hope that it'll help my write something bc god knows i haven't done that in a minute#like i wrote a lot before my work trip and then hardly wrote anything on it lol#dead boy detectives
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