Bedrifted or driftcells or something go my yaoilings || tags!!: #hyperlightdrifter #deadcells #driftcells #yaoi #whatisthis
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Hashtag
#driftcells
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and also from @tartagliare.bsky.social is this similarly comm'd 🔞 comic of the first part of the sex scene from my #Driftcells smutshot 'fluorescent weight' :3 archiveofourown.org/works/76014026
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madeline questions something about beheaded. beheaded’s mind is too gay-pilled with drifter
madeline questions something about drifter. drifter’s mind is also too gay-pilled with beheaded
i like driftcells a normal amount!
(.❛ ᴗ ❛.)
#driftcells #indiecross #hld #deadcells
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Indie Cross punted me down the rabbithole. The Driftcells rabbithole. Other pairings are welcome. Or none at all. Posting this before I lose my nerve. Permalink this time. #driftcells #DeadCells #HyperLightDrifter #IndieCross discord.gg/j4MNnG8RSn
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Happy Valentine's Day ❤️
Featuring my favorite ships (& ocs because I ran out of ships)
#Cultofthelamb
#Driftcells
#RandomAccessMayhem
#ocs
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Indie Cross punted me down the rabbithole. The Driftcells rabbithole. Other pairings are welcome. Or none at all. Posting this before I lose my nerve. discord.gg/4Rps5cPS
#driftcells #DeadCells #HyperLightDrifter #IndieCross
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Indie Cross punted me down the rabbithole. The Driftcells rabbithole. Other pairings are welcome. Or none at all. Posting this before I lose my nerve. discord.gg/4Rps5cPS
#driftcells #DeadCells #HyperLightDrifter #IndieCross
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I think i still have something in left the oven
Could you watch this for me?
oh! and
Happy Holidays!❄️
#Driftcells
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Posting anonymously because I think this might be the equivalent of dropping a flashbang into one of the fandom tags but uh. Here we are, that #Driftcells smutshot I've been working on :3
archiveofourown.org/works/76014026
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Hu Tao didn’t come to race, she came to dominate.
#AnimeArt #carculture #Night_Runner #driftcells #GenshinImpact #GenshinSpecialProgram #drifters #HuTao #MIDNIGHTDRIVE #Car #racingphotography #CommissionedArt #artshare #artmoots #commissionsopen #Vtubers #RX7 #Porsche
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From this angle, those irises of his glint in the flaring hues of his burning skull, half-lidded and sex-drunk. Normally this particular look of his would instill feelings akin to being gazed upon by a predator. At the present moment, Beheaded finds himself thoroughly distracted by the sight of his fucked-out cunt, oozing still with slick and saliva, and clenching around nothing. Perfect jerkoff material, in his own humble opinion. It doesn't talk much work to get himself back up to that brutal rhythm he left off on, hunting for release. Just as he does so, Drifter’s hand navigates itself to the veil of luminescence atop his head. He’s anticipating another rough yank, and it leaves him entirely unprepared for the way those clever digits so tenderly card through his flames. Tingling warmth blooms across his miraculously-functioning nerves, lighting each one up like a live wire. It surges down Beheaded’s undead body like a wildfire consuming kindling, and the pulsating sensations center right down his dick, punching a groan out of him in between labored pants. A breathy hum of approval resounds from above, followed by sensation of Drifter’s other hand tangling itself into his flames. The razor tips of his claws scratch lightly at Beheaded’s scalp, and the sound that erupts him would be embarrassing in any other circumstance. Drifter’s calloused paw pads gently pinch at one of the fiery tendrils, trailing his touch from root to tip. The blissful pressure swiftly chases away all semblance of thought, pathetic mewls and whimpering moans escaping him with every caress, every stroke of digits through the fire.
Bout' to go and try to figure out how fireplay works wish me luck. 🔞
#Driftcells
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For someone who was, quite literally, a flaming ball of necrotic ooze piloting whatever corpse it could get ahold of, physical stimuli that he shouldn’t be experiencing registered more often than not. Beheaded doesn’t let himself think much on that, just as he never lets himself think of who he could have been prior to being thrown into a gauntlet of malaise-twisted monstrosities. That mindset persists even now, dropped smack dab in the middle of a race to save a colliding, collapsing multiverse. It’s not worth the headache trying to figure out the logistics of literally any of that crap, but some part of him can’t help but find himself grateful that this aspect of his humanity has been miraculously preserved. It isn’t just things like blinding pain and scorching heat. The taste of food lingers on his phantom palate, scents tickle nonexistent olfactory nerves, a lifeless heart performs backflips when inky black eyes smile at him. All these certainly fall among things that a dead, possessed body shouldn’t be feeling, but somehow Beheaded can. Newest to that particular collection of sensory discoveries is the familiar rhythms of two willing bodies, getting down and dirty with one another. Regardless of the homunculus’ distinct lack of situational knowhow when he had first woken up in the depths of a prison, some things had been simply too innate to be completely forgotten; things he knew he had experienced before on an instinctive level. Granted, the differences between then and now are fairly stark. Lacking an actual mouth, for starters.
For anybody else, it probably would’ve put a damper on copulation attempts, but the immortal was anything but a quitter. Some initially clumsy experimentation, conducted in-between the mad-dash raids of robotic strongholds to restore captured dimensions, has already yielded very interesting results. There’s also the matter of his burning head being… more recipient to certain kinds of touches than others. Namely, when a gloved hand had grabbed hold of his flame in a desperate effort to keep him from tumbling into a sea of smelting, bright red matter just last week. And how despite the existential threat to his everything as the doomed realm began to collapse, something about the strange sensation of his fire somehow being pulled taut bypassed every panicked train of thought he’d had, and gone right down to his loins. It doesn’t come as a surprise to learn that Drifter had taken notice of that, nor that he’s more than happy to replicate the experience come their next moment alone together. What Beheaded hadn’t been expecting, though, is just how quickly the mere act of claws tugging curiously at the veil of luminescence can make him hard as a rock. Naturally, the cherry on top of all of this, is that the tangible parts of his flame effectively doubles as a makeshift handlebar. Go figure. Not that he’s complaining about that discovery in the slightest, especially when it chases away all coherent thought and fills his head with a warm, pleasant haze. (Especially when it makes him melt beneath the touch of the handsome wanderer who’d stolen his heart.)
“Nnng--fuck… ” Beheaded so eloquently says between gasps for air he does not need. Somewhere over the static clouding over his consciousness and the delicious pain prickling across a scalp he does not possess, he catches an amused hum emitting from his normally-silent partner. “C’mon… can’t I just--mmmph!” His complaint is cut short by a firm yank, promptly muffling his surprised yelp in soaked, swollen lips. Drifter’s claws, feather-light, caress the side of his head, and Beheaded needs little further encouragement to dive back in. He’s discovered a lot about himself these past few weeks (months?); namely, reciprocation when it came to matters of--ahem, oral persuasion. It had a lot to do with what sense he still somehow holds onto, awoken the first time the immortal dropped to his knees before him in a fit of adrenaline-induced lust and uninhibited desire. Instinct grips Beheaded, stirred by faint memories of another time he’d been sunk upon his knees at the foot of a bed and framed by two gorgeous thighs. Lapping at that faintly metallic-salt flavor, wrists pinned to his back by order alone, that long, terrible, wonderful hour he'd gone without relief. He catches the rim of his drooling pussy, and pushes in, chasing his taste to its source. There's a hitch in Drifter's panting, his hips lifting right off the bed to meet him as he burrows inside him. His partner grinds fervently against his mouth as Beheaded drinks from him, pressing far as he dared into his molten core. Slick-soaked fur bristles, his brow knits and furrows with euphoria, and he desperately wishes to make him finish like this--
And then sword-steady fingers suddenly grasp tightly around the flame that crowns his fiery skull, abruptly dragging him away from the crux of his thighs. The rough treatment makes lightning bolt down his spine and right to his weeping, unattended dick, twitching painfully against the empty air. A whine escapes him, staring dazedly up at the other man as he catches his breath. Drifter keeps him there, inches from his drooling cunt, and grins down back at him with half-lidded, lust-dark eyes. Slick dribbles down the plasmid surface of his face, its flavor lingering upon his phantom sense of taste. He suddenly can't help but feel like a starved dog being teased. Several seconds pass before the wanderer eases him back in, claws stroking down the flames soothingly. He mindlessly follows the slight, upward nudge, nuzzling against his petite dick until his flames can engulf it entirely.
Remembered today that I actually *can* just write anything I set my mind to :3 🔞🔞🔞 #Driftcells
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The thick door doesn't even have time to click shut before gloved hands are upon him, tugging at his scarf and scrabbling for the buckle to his pauldron. Sheathed claws scrape at his skin, and something about the thought of them raking down his back in fervent ecstasy already has his dick jumping in anticipation. “What, is this a race or something?” He gripes toothlessly, for his own fingers have, miraculously so, located the clasp for Drifter’s cloak. It floats from his shoulders to join his scarf on the plush carpet below, to be forgotten until the next morning. The clattering of metal follows as he's pushed backwards, and Beheaded has just enough time to get his tunic up and over his flaming head before lips find where his own once belonged. The back of his knees swiftly find the edge of the bed, and the two of them go toppling down onto a ridiculously cushy duvet. Drifter remains entirely nonplussed by the sudden shift in vectors, kissing at the semi-solid surface of his flames with a frenzied sort of hunger. As soon as they're free from their binds, the immortal’s hands swiftly find the small of his back and waist, guiding him as he clambers up the foot of the mattress to straddle him. It takes another five seconds for Beheaded to remember what he was going to say, already thoroughly distracted by the hands working to get his sash off, and the soft lips eagerly massaging sensitive plasma.
“Uh, hey.” He manages at last, and the huskiness of his own voice comes as a small shock. The wanderer falls still, his clever hands having already started working on his sash, and pulls back just enough to be able to look him in the eye. “I wanted to ask you something, real quick.” His head tilts a fraction, almost imperceptible in the gathered dark of this strange, snowy world. He chews on his words a moment longer, before deciding the bluntest possible approach is probably key here. “So, is this--” Beheaded gestures between them aimlessly. “--just gonna be a one time thing? Or are you gonna keep on jumping my bones every time we kick some ass together?” Inky black eyes blink down at him, as if surprised by his query. The uncertainty of the moment stretches on for another ten seconds before it gets to him. “All I'm saying is, if we go through with this now and then never speak of it again after, I'd be alright with that. But if you wanted to… y’know, if we happen to find ourselves another chance to be alone while we're doing this entire ‘saving the multiverse’ song and dance--” A single gloved finger lands on where Drifter had previously put his mouth, and it's almost worrying how effective it is in silencing him. Then, from over one skinny shoulder, appears his drone. It chirps once before a projection spills out of the little opening at the top.
“Is that thing sentient?” He can't help but blurt, and what little he can see of Drifter’s face beneath his mask visibly flushes. It had to be connected to him in some capacity; how else would he manage to get it to do what he wants without a single spoken word? Technomancy mysteries aside, he turns his attention to the flickering screen. This time, it plays not a series of vaguely connected images, but instead, a video. The backdrop of familiar emerald architecture and the haze of endless rain is cut through by the red glow of a portal. Before it stands the star of the show: himself, glancing back at the lens of the camera during his short-lived farewell to the wanderer. Through the filter of a speaker somewhere within the tiny bot, his own words are repeated back at him, crackling with static. “Make your days count! I guess… “ “Heh, I did tell you that, didn't I?” Battling a terminal disease, one that makes him black out at the worst imaginable moments, is certainly a good excuse as any to seize any scrap of leisure and living possible obtainable. “Can’t say I’d imagined we’d wind up like this at the time, but when you put it that way… “ A nod in agreement, but the movement is almost vacant, distracted. Razor claws dance up his pecs (when had Drifter slipped his gloves off?) to come to rest on his bare shoulders. Beheaded’s hand, in turn, slides down the ridges of his spine, fingers tangling readily in the leather ties of his tabard.
Even with all this to say, the tattered remains of his common sense yet nag at him. Yeah sure, they’re both more than willing, and the chances of squeezing in a good fuck while they're running around the shattering universes have skyrocketed. But as Drifter ducks in to resume their make-out sesh, a tiny red flag stands stubbornly amidst the descending haze of lust. Arrangements of this nature tended to fall under a particular label, one more widely known as ‘friends with benefits’. It's a magical place where everything flip-flops until something breaks. And Beheaded certainly considers Drifter a friend. Nobody goes out of their way to find a method of reversing golden-statue-ification, break into a stuck-between-dimensions vault at risk of terrible bodily harm, and then narrowly escape with all their lives intact for anything less than a friend. But would any of that matter down the road, as they throw themselves into their tentative plan of action to restore all their homes? They’re all stuck together in this whirlwind of a colliding multiverse, for better or worse, until they get their shit together and fix it. What harm could a few rounds of sex do between then and now?
Beheaded, probably: Yeah sure I'm down to mess around some more in between all the crazy battles and mad-dash attempts at keeping the multiverse from collapsing. It's not like I'm gonna fall in love with him!
🔞🔞🔞
#Driftcells #NSFW
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#Cringetober 11. Crossover
It's #DriftCells baybee you already knowwwww
Also sorry for how lazy it is I'm eepy nini zzzzzzzzZZZzzzZZZzzZZZZzzZZZzzzz
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wasn't planning to post anything abt these two yet but welp I'm impatient! I drew them a lot while I was on break (these are js some of them), truly my comfort ship frfr
#DriftCells
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As a treat for the lack of posts because I forget to post here, too, have this doodle that I made for myself and am too embarrassed to post on Twitter.
Might as well add the tag #driftcells
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#commissionsopened #pixelart #myart #pixelart #writingcommissions #emergencycommissions #shovelknight #pressure #robloxpressure #henrystickmincollection #seaofstars #undertale #driftcells
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So I may or may not have started playing Deadcells and Hyper Light Drifter 👀
#driftcells #deadcells #hyperlightdrifter #indiecross
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He misses his fine shyt
Or something idk I added drifter in at the last second for yaoi bait lol
Really just an excuse to do a redraw
#INDIECROSS #deadcells #HyperlightDrifter #Redraw #Shipart #Kritaart #Yaoi #Driftcells
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Happy late pride month don’t forget to kiss your homies before getting midas touched
#driftcells #INDIECROSS
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