#trip wrote

[keywhole]

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 weren’t. 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 “so quiet you can hear a pin drop,” 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 didn’t stop. It started out as just an annoying ringing in his ears, fine, nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But they really didn’t stop. Deimos and Sanford were careful, duh, but zeds weren’t. 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. 

Every ricochet of drops hitting the sewer water echoed in Deimos’ ears. The water simply moved and bounced in his eardrums and never stopped, because that’s 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, y’know, 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 didn’t have enough bandages for all that jazz. He was in hell, and he’d 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 couldn’t tell if it was a zed’s 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 weren’t exactly a big deal physically. The second wave sort of (literally) swamped them, but it wasn’t anything the two of them couldn’t 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 couldn’t take it anymore. He took out his gun, and didn’t 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 didn’t have much meaning for him. So he flooded his ears until he felt Sanford pull his wrist aside.

Deimos’ 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.

“Up ahead there seems to be a dip in the wall,” Sanford said whispering, though it hit the other like he was speaking in his normal volume, “We should be able to at least breathe for a second.”

“Gotcha,” 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. 

The ringing didn’t stop. It didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 it’d 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 didn’t turn around when he sighed.

“You didn’t have to drop all that lead, y’know?” Sanford couldn’t be too mad, because he had spread the bullets out to save him the trouble of being tackled down, “I have no idea when we’ll be able to stock up again.”

“Hey, Sanford.” 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 Deimos’ drama, and he knew that, but he wanted to peel his flesh off until that was the last resort. “Be quiet for a sec, ‘kay?”

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 couldn’t lie, he wouldn’t mind one himself, but he knew they didn’t have the time for his sore muscles. He didn’t like zeds. He really, really didn’t. It’s not like Deimos did either, he knew they both wanted to get the fuck out of here, but they can’t take a short rest while they’re 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. It’s not like he was mad— no, the joke had been super funny and worth it— but again, they both wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“Deimos, this really isn’t the time to fuck around, we—”

“Sanford, seriously,” Deimos sounded annoyed, but that same rhythm was practiced in his voice, “Shut up for a second.”

Okay. Okay, that was a bit weird. Surely Deimos wasn’t doing the thing where he hides something tying him down under jokes— oh, Sanford felt like a fucking idiot for even considering the possibility that Deimos wasn’t 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 wasn’t one of those moments. His hands kept pressing and pressing and pressing his headphones closer to his head. He didn’t know if that was helping, or if it was making his circulation fucked up enough to cover up more sound. He didn’t want to be a dick, he really didn’t, but if Sanford didn’t 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 couldn’t comprehend that right now. His skin was buzzing with the reverb of every sound. Sanford’s shoes scraped against the ground in a sound that made his skin burn and sent bullets straight into his brain. His ears couldn’t 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 didn’t shut up, let alone shut the fuck up, and the care didn’t make sense next to the rattles of metal, or the groans of rusted gates, or the sheet of crashes sewage water created. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? I have some—”

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.

“Sanford I need you to shUT THE FUCK UP!”

Oh. Oh, shit, something was wrong. Sanford’s shoulders fell. He didn’t 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 could’ve 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 Sanford’s shoulders when he realized he’d 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 Deimos’ 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.

“Don’t— I got this, just stay here.”

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 he’d find a way to make it work. Deimos hadn’t 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 hadn’t 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 zed’s 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 zed’s 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 zed’s faces with a rough, wet tear. Good.

There was a tug at the back of Sanford’s 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 wasn’t 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 zed’s 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 zed’s 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. 

It wasn’t 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 didn’t have time for this. Something was wrong with Deimos.

“Just stay the fuck down, you chu—”

With precision and instinct Sanford hopped to the right to avoid a litter of bullets heading straight towards a zed’s head. It went down immediately, and Sanford couldn’t 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 Deimos’ mind, firing a few shots was the least he could do. In Sanford’s, 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 “this stupid, stupid man” 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 didn’t know why, but he did, because his aim was getting worse with disorientation swarming his head. Sanford must’ve noticed that. Or maybe Deimos’ aim had been fucked up enough to graze his arm— he didn’t know, and as long as Sanford wasn’t screaming in pain, it didn’t seem like he had to care.

The scariest part was making sure Sanford could creep his way back into the pair’s hiding spot without attracting further attention. Deimos really couldn’t 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. 

“Safe,” He said, mostly to himself, and turned around to run to Deimos and ended up skidding on one knee to meet his level, “I’m here, I’m here, what’s up?”

An annoyed groan ripped its way through Deimos’ 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.

That’s 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 Deimos’ aggravation at it was the surprise. But adding on the fact that a few more went off— 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 didn’t stop him, but he also didn’t 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 didn’t know how loud that was going to be right next to Deimos.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just try to breathe.”

And then, finally, Sanford shutted the fuck up.

His hands gently laid around Deimos’. He wished he could stop shaking, but the weight of Sanford’s arm was enough to hold him a bit more in place. Sanford’s 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. Sanford’s wrist still kept down the pressure while he let his hands be peeled back. Sanford was still keeping an eye out. He could breathe. Deimos’ hand relaxed against his palms. He finally untensed his own wrists, but the muffling of sound was still there with Sanford’s help. One of his arms was around his shoulders.

Deimos closed his eyes and leaned a bit more against Sanford’s 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 Sanford’s as much as he could. What was left of a comfortable volume was easier to focus on with the outside comfort. 

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.

“Sorry,” He sheepishly said in his anxiety riddled smile, “I didn’t mean to, to uh, y’know, yell at you. Not really.” 

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.

“I know, I know— it probably hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. I get it now,” Sanford whisper-talked(?) in a way like he was trying to turn a dial on the radio, trying to find the sweet spot, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Is this helping?”

He gave Deimos more time to breathe. His hands shakily reached up and placed themselves on Sanford’s 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 didn’t seem like either of them would be letting go anytime soon. Right now, Sanford’s 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 Sanford’s 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.

“Yeah,” Deimos admitted when he looked back at Sanford with a hint of a smile, “A little.”

A little while ago, Deimos had been writhing in discomfort, when he could laugh with broken ribs. But the moment Sanford’s 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 Deimos’ smile in his laugh.

Sanford pulled back with a huff. Now he knew what the problem was and, luckily, found a temporary fix. “Okay, how’re we gonna keep this right until we can take a look at it and see what we can really do?”

Deimos grinned. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

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 couldn’t think when everything sounded like pot pans being slammed together. He hummed in thought, before he sat up. Softly, he reversed his hands with Deimos’. He made sure Deimos’ 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.

“Okay, let go, see how that feels.”

Slowly, with genuine fear, Deimos lifted his hands. He blinked. It wasn’t 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. “What’d you do?”

“I ripped a bandana a few days ago and kept the scrap, just in case,” Sanford said as quiet as he had been, “It’s not enough to cover up much but, hey, looks like it came in handy. How is it?”

Deimos adjusted it. He moved the fabric to the middle of his muffs, tightening the knot a bit. The creaking of the metal wasn’t as taunting. The water sounded farther away. There was only one test That could really see if it’ll work at all.

“Uuuuuhhhh,” Deimos adjusted to the sound of his own voice before he looked up at Sanford, “Say something.”

Sanford smiled. His hands moved up to hold Deimos’ shoulders. “Hi, Deimos.”

The soothingness of Sanford’s 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. “Hey, Sanford. You smell like shit.”

Sanford’s snort was a happy chime in the musky air. “Yeah, because you smell any better. Works?”

“Yep, I’m just a drama queen.”

Sanford huffed. He shook his head, his hands falling down Deimos’ arm to his hands as he started to stand up. His grip wasn’t tight enough to force Deimos to stand; it was his choice to make. He took it. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. “You’re not a drama queen. Next time, just say something, okay? Yeah, we’re in a crunch here, but there’s time for you.”

Deimos bit the inside of his lip. If he hadn’t been crying earlier, he came pretty close to then and there. He gently shoved Sanford’s shoulder, but put a hand on his bicep to keep him from actually moving. “Dammit, dude, don’t get so sentimental.”

Sanford smiled. There was his stupid, stupid man. He couldn’t 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 couldn’t help but smirk. He flicked one of the loose pieces from the knot around his forehead. 

“If you’re a drama queen, is this your crown?” Sanford teased.

With a flushed face he waved away Sanford’s 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. “I’m mostly good now, but maybe you should still shut the fuck up.”

Sanford laughed as Deimos started to walk to the opening of their hide-y hole, quickly stepping to his side. “What? Should I carry you, too, your Highness?”

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 Deimos’. 

He smiled up at his partner.

“C’mon, get a move on,” Deimos said, “I still wanna get out of this place alive."

[talaok]

Sunbathing

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’ve decided to sunbathe topless, or as your husband Joel would put it, you’ve 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"  

"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-anything” he pleaded “Have 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 darlin’"

Again, a soft giggle rumbled from your chest

"’S 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 you’d succumbed to Joel and his goddamn irresistible neediness.

"bring me back into the house"

It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words.

In a haze of kisses and lust, he’d 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 didn’t make it far enough to encounter a single surface- and perhaps that was because he’d stopped looking and placed you against the wall the moment he’d 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.

“Oh fuck” 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 “you-you-jesus”

Your left hand passed through his hair, softly soothing him.

“‘S alright baby, don’t wait for me”

“You’re too fuckin’-” he tried to speak, but he was interrupted by yet another groan

“What?” you taunted him, a smirk pulling at your lips “what is it baby?”

His eyes were wide with desperation as he looked up at you, as his mouth stole languid kisses from your tits.

“Too hot- too goddamn perfect”

You bit down a grin at that, still stroking his hair

“I love you baby” 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 couldn’t help but lean in and kiss it, kiss you like you were a soft delicate thing that he was scared of breaking.

“I love you more” he promised, kissing you again, even if you were smiling.

“Feel better now?”

You said it like he was a kid with a stomach bug, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah darlin’” he murmured against your mouth “thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me” you laughed, but he was already shaking his head

“Yes I do”

And without further explanation, he’d dropped to his knees.

He slid your bikini to the side once again, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

“Baby you don’t have to” 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 didn’t care, he was happy tasting the mix of your fluids, because that’s 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.

“Fuck-babe-”

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-

“Joel” you cried, but he didn’t dare speak a word as he went back to your clit.

“Shit-baby- god!”

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 hadn’t stopped eating you out for a single second, and even then, he looked like he had no intention of doing so

“Baby-baby” you whimpered, having to literally pull him away from your core.

He was smiling like a kid, and you couldn’t help but follow suit.

He put your bikini back in place, and then stood up, his hands lingering on your waist

“You’re crazy”

He couldn’t help but kiss you before answering,

“You make me”

[konigceo]

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 ;)

[trips2saturn]

telling my future kids that they were romeo and juliet

[the-magpie-archives]

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.

[wolfofartblock]

Need a break from this webcomic I'm drawing, anyone got anything Desmond x (Altair, Ezio, Alex, etc.) related that I could sketch out 🤨 or AU stuff

[solarmorrigan]

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 isn’t blaring at him and neither is his brain; it’s 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 he’s 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 he’s sure there’s something he’s supposed to be doing, but it’s hard. He’s so comfortable. He turns his face further into his pillow, pressing in where it’s warm and firm and– 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 Steve’s back before Steve pulled away. There’s a red mark on his chest where Steve’s head had been resting, and he’s sure there’s 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 can’t 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.

He’s just considering lying back down when Eddie groans, a drowsy frown pulling at his face.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, eyes still closed (at least, Steve’s sure that’s what he means to ask; it comes out a little more like “Whrd y’go?”, and he’s pleased that his ability to decipher Eddie’s half-awake mumbling hasn’t suffered in its absence of use).

“I didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here,” Steve says, laying his palm over Eddie’s 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 Steve’s. “‘s too early to be awake,” he mutters, a little more coherent this time. “Come back.”

“It’s not even that early. It’s…” Steve ducks and squints a little to bring his alarm clock into focus, everything still a little blurry without his contact lenses in. “Holy shit, it’s past ten.”

“See? Early.” Eddie reaches up with his free hand to pat around for a hold on Steve’s arm so he can tug at him. “Lay back down.”

“I never sleep this late, what the hell,” Steve mutters, and Eddie finally opens his eyes, giving Steve a grin that’s equal parts sleepy and self-satisfied.

“Wore you out, didn’t I?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, I’m exhausted,” Steve deadpans, before proceeding to flop back down onto Eddie’s chest, smirking at the little ‘oof’ he earns. “I don’t know if I can even move. Hope you don’t have to pee anytime soon.”

Eddie shrugs. “Eh, if I do, it’s your bed, not mine.”

“Ew. Dude.” Steve props himself back up on his elbow in order to wrinkle his nose at Eddie.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Eddie says with a smirk, and – shit, Steve’s really missed this.

Eddie is one of the only people in the world Steve feels like he can completely be himself around. He’s second only to Robin (everyone will always be second to Robin, that’s just a given), and that’s what had devastated Steve most when he’d heard what Eddie had to say about their relationship. He thought he’d let Eddie see all of him, and Eddie hadn’t seen anything worth wanting.

Worth loving.

But that, apparently, hadn’t quite been the case.

“Hey,” Eddie calls Steve’s attention back, picking his hand up off his chest to press a kiss to the back of it. “Where’d you go?”

No, that hadn’t been the case at all.

Steve shakes his head. “Nowhere,” he promises. “I’m right here.”

He leans down for a kiss, and Eddie pulls their combined hands aside to meet it, bringing his free hand up to curl into Steve’s hair, cradling the back of his head.

It isn’t as though all the hurt has healed – all of Steve’s doubts and insecurities haven’t magically disappeared. As much as Steve might wish, it isn’t as though the last several weeks never happened. They can’t change any of that now, but Eddie’s honesty, his openness– openness from them both will take them a long way forward.

The idea still sits as a bit new to Steve: honesty. He’s used to people saying one thing and doing another. He’s used to being expected to decipher convoluted social cues and having to intuit unspoken messages. He’s used to not being allowed to ask for what he wants and just accepting whatever he’s given.

This, he thinks, will be better.

The kiss doesn’t 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. There’s 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 Eddie’s, unwilling to go too far away just yet.

“Good morning,” Steve says when Eddie opens his eyes again, and he can feel the puff of Eddie’s sigh against his lips.

“Don’t say that,” Eddie whines. “If you say that, we have to get up.”

Steve gives a little laugh. “We can’t stay in bed all day, Eddie.”

“Sure we can,” Eddie drawls, pushing at Steve’s 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. “In fact, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Do you seriously have no other plans for the day?” Steve asks, as if he has any pressing engagements himself.

Eddie presses a kiss to the base of Steve’s throat, humming thoughtfully. “Maybe one or two,” he says, trailing a few more kisses up the side of Steve’s neck.

“Besides that,” Steve huffs, though he makes no move to stop Eddie when his hand comes to rest on the waist of Steve’s pajama pants.

“What am I, an event planner?” Eddie asks, but he does pull away from Steve’s neck with a petulant (and largely exaggerated) sigh. “Fine. How about we stay in bed most of the day and then… we can go back to mine for dinner?”

Steve looks up at Eddie, brows drawing together as he thinks. “What’s at yours that we’d need for dinner?”

Eddie shrugs. “Nothing, really. It’s just been a while,” he says quietly.

And– well, it has. Eddie’s trailer used to be one of the places Steve had felt most comfortable, but he hasn’t spent more than a few minutes there in passing since he’d emptied it of his things. He misses it there – how warm and welcoming it always was, how he’d felt like he belonged there.

What if he goes back now and it’s 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.

“But if you don’t want to, we totally don’t have to, we can just–”

“No,” Steve cuts in. “Let’s go to yours for dinner.”

A slow-growing smile pulls across Eddie’s face, and Steve can tell he’s fighting the urge to duck and hide it.

“Wayne misses you, y’know,” Eddie says, and now it’s Steve who’s ducking away from eye contact.

“Misses my cooking, I bet,” he jokes, but Eddie shakes his head.

“Misses you. He does like you, Steve. He asked where you were, after– after everything,” Eddie says, and Steve isn’t sure what the hell he’s 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. “He misses your cooking too, though, let’s be real. He had the audacity to tell me the other day that my mac and cheese isn’t as good as yours. It was your recipe!”

Steve laughs, and Eddie really plays up the offense.

“And you know the worst part? He was right,” Eddie laments. “It’s the same recipe, how does that even work?”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you want me to come to your house and cook you dinner,” Steve teases, smirking up at Eddie.

Eddie subsides just a little, packing away his theatrical energy in order to smile back down at Steve. “I just want you to come over. I’ll order dinner if you want. Hell, I’ll submit myself to public ridicule and try cooking for you again.” He cups Steve’s cheek in one hand and leans in to kiss him gently. “Whatever you want, Steve, I’m there.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, quiet, almost breathless with the depth of Eddie’s promise.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, his smile as ridiculous and smitten as the look on Steve’s own face must be. “I’m right here with you.”

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

[bright-side20]

Elain tightened her grip on the dagger and moved quickly, aiming the blade toward Azriel’s side with all the precision she’d 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 hadn’t 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. “Elain,” he said, his voice tight, though she sensed the tension beneath it, the same tension she felt in her own veins. “You shouldn’t be too impulsive.”

Her heart raced, feeling his body so close. “I’m learning,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel didn’t 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.

“Impulse is dangerous,” he continued. “It can lead to mistakes… costly ones.” 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. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “impulse is necessary. You can’t always hold back.”

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly as he moved the dagger higher. When the blade’s edge grazed the skin just below her breast, Elain’s 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.

“And if you don’t take the risk,” she countered, “you might miss your chance.”

Azriel stilled for a second , the dagger just below her collarbone. She couldn’t 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 wasn’t sure why this felt so exciting, wasn’t 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.

“It’s a dangerous game,” 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 weren’t talking about training anymore. “Maybe,” she breathed, her voice catching as the dagger rested against her throat, “some things are worth the risk.”

Azriel’s 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.

“And what if the cost is too high?” 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. ‘What if it’s not?’ 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. “You shouldn’t be so reckless,” 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. “And you shouldn’t be so afraid to take what you want,” she replied.

For a long moment, he didn’t 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.

“Lesson over,” he said, his voice strained as though the words were dragged from him. “We’re done for today. Rhys and Feyre want us in the River House. Prepare yourself, I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

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.

[nouverx]

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

[missriyochuchi]

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

[pixelatedraindrops]

“Alright, I think your fever rose again a bit… So, get some more sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay… Thank you…. Dad.” Yuma yawned then fell asleep with his hands curled by his cheek smiling.

Yakou looked bewildered by that last statement. “Yeesh. That’s some delirium… What the heck was in that medicine?”

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!✨

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...💦

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. 🌡️

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 I’ve been in a LONG time. It’s thanks to people’s 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… 🥹 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 I’ve gotten better, I drew something for it. I do worry the pose is rather boring because it’s the same as 2 other images that were made for me… xD But come on, you know its the cutest scene in the story 🥰 (and ugh yakou was a pain to draw AS USUAL ><)

Yuma’s 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 bed’s duvet, and surrounded by all the stuff his friends got for him to help him to recover~💊

I hope you like the picture. And to celebrate this story’s 1 year anniversary, feel free to tell me your favorite part if you have read it! 💕✨ And if you haven’t, I hope you do sometime!! 💜

[rottingraisins]

triannual accumulated clefdraki art dump... some strange little timeline out there where theyre happy i think

[rustyelias]

Alright dropping my tma Christmas headcanons this is as festive that I will get

Jonathan:

- only puts up with Christmas for Martin.

- Steals martins Christmas jumpers

- Terrible at buying gifts

- Hates getting gifts

- Never celebrated growing up when he lived with his grandma

- This man will info dump about a Christmas carol

- He is 100% a big fan of hot chocolate

- Hates mince pies (so real of him)

Martin Khrismas Blackwood:

- Knits his own Christmas jumper for himself and loved once

- Takes Jon on tree shopping dates

- Along with being able to make the perfect cup of tea he can also make a pretty wicked cup of hot chocolate

- He makes his own tree decorations

- Will always have Christmas scented candles burning to the point that Jon is scared the flat will set on fire

- He buys special fairy light that are dim so they don’t overstimulate Jon (URRGDHD GAY PEOPLE)

- Not a big fan of modern Christmas music refuse to let anyone play it

Tim:

- Always wears matching jumpers with Sasha

- [Makes everyone do secret Santa but rigs it so Jon never gets him

- Mother fucker walks around with mistletoe and waits for Martin or Sasha to walk past

- Always ends up drunk. It just happens

- “Come on Elias!? It’s Christmas! Lighten up double boss”

- “Oh come on don’t be a Scrooge” - Jon then proceeded to infodump about acc

- [ ecorates his flat fully but no tree. He forgot one year and it’s become a joke

Sasha:

- Makes her own mulled wine and bakes her own Christmas cookies

- Hosts a Christmas party every year and has every one round for Christmas dinner (she knows her friends are lifeless losers with no family)

- She really loves ear Muffes

- Every year she gets everyone super personal gifts even Elias and every year makes Martin cry

- She uses the holiday to show off the fact she can play Piano

Elias sexy pipe murder… wait what who said that 👀 :

- Shockes everyone every year by showing up one day in a Christmas jumper instead of his perfectly tailored three pieces suit

- This man just spawns in when ever Sasha brings in her Christmas baked goods

- He wears peters scarf (he stole it and yes Peter wants it back)

- “Yes Peter I know it’s Christmas darling but I still want another divorce”

[tswwwit]

How is the part fifth of the cult AU going?

Don't want you to feel pressure with the ask, feel free to ignore it. Take care❤️

It's currently just shy of 5k! I took a break for a bit, but momentum has returned. And I have some very fun scenes in mind I think people will like!

[garlicboyart]

happy very belated 10 year birthday mr lodger !!!

[unexpectedbrickattack]

old. man. yaois.

tiny gnome has very good senses and smells everything so much and so strongly. help him.

actually. going to keep this contained in the post and not in the tags bc its kink stuff and i think it should stay behind a readmore oop

spreading the 'old man engages in freak behavior' agenda...its not even freak behavior it is so tame for other shit i am writing w them LMAO musk is like whatever. its WHATEVER ! (its good) but my homebrew gnomes are based off of rodents and they have heightened senses of smell and hearing because of it and i think it is so funny to give my fave characters the most benign, yet debilitating kinks. Like bro im fine dw also u need to not be right next to me bc im going to go feral and i dont have it in my soul to explain why

i think its sooooo silly to have him already devote so much of his time to peppino and this business and now hes like god. what is that stickman meme picture of someone gripping their leg so hard its bleeding? thats gus hes like in his own hell. i think i wrote it before that peppino is sooooo aware of like. being a sweaty man and it makes him uncomfortable and he tries to avoid it but its like an inevitable facet of life and he deals w it the best he can. hes not smelly hes sweaty n musky and so working in the back w a hot oven means he ends his shifts absolutely drenched and miserable.

and gus is like👁️👁️ but hes a respectable man (tm) and he doesnt openly gawk n fawn. But. He is not shameless; he absolutely steals a shirt or two when he can and works w that for a while. he steals a shirt, keeps it, then rotates it w another shirt and when peppino is like WAA! My shirt !!! where did u disappear to??? Gus has to pretend he didnt snatch it away for like a month like the squirrel he is.

it (the thieving) would start before they get together and he would get caught a little while after they get together. like hey. not that i think that you think im stupid. but um. for like two years my shirts would disappear when u came over. like. after a couple of months it stops being a coincidence. so like. explain urself maybe?? and its definitely like a New feeling for gus, who is generally regarded as a dom (albeit a sweet one) to feel bashful about this but like in timid way that doesnt usually come naturally to him LOL. and i like the idea of peppino being an anxious little freak about soooo many things including sex, but when he gets more comfy w someone hes way more of a dick and blunt asshole (affectionate) and he absolutely would bully gus about this.

okay thats all i got just imagine my vision of gus and his little tail shooting straight up bc hes huffing this fucking shirt before he passes out for the night okay? and avoiding brick the next day bc beast to beast communication is real, okay? for me? thank u ....