#stimming hard af

[dizzymudskipper]

Super cringe headcannon incoming

Steel is Solomons Uncle

(Solomon)

-Made to visit Steel often because he has no other close relatives

-Was extremely timid and emotional as a kid, cried over anything

-Only allowed Steel to cut his hair after a year of being there.

-Needed glasses and braces from health issues

-Would get interested in Aliens and Robots after being given comics by one of Steels close friends (Transformers primarily)

-Followed Steel around whenever he could

-Started training with Steel in his teens, Steel encouraged him greatly

-Needed sunscreen 24/7, burnt to a crisp first week at base

(Steel)

-Steel took in Solomon after his mom (Steels sister) and dad died

-Heavily lenient when it came to punishment, made Solomon do laps around the base, and clean dishes as result

-Would talk about all his stories in the military

-Made sure Solomon continued his schooling, lots of tutoring from off duty Generals/ Officers/ Privates

-Was a Second Lieutenant at the time

-Celebrated small milestones with Solomon by buying junk food and watching movies from Blockbuster

-Put Solomons needs before his constantly his first few years living with him

-Winged parenting most of the time

Will add more when they come to mind please ask me any ideas or questions I need them

[saintedbythestorm]

Time to stim away the stress of whatever the fuck last night was.

[notjustjavierpena]

Panties

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Well look who are back. I didn’t think dbf!joel still existed in my brain but it seems that he is actually thriving. A little treat for you all while I polish some hubby stuff. This one absolutely goes out to @sugadolly 💖💅🫶

Summary: You show off your cute little underwear. Joel wants to fuck you but you want to try something else.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dbf!joel, age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, reader is a good little girl, outside sex (idk what is to call it), clit stim, overstim, reader is cockdrunk af, they’re actually very much in love for real, cum!!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857010

Panties

“Lemme see them,” Joel says with a gentle tone as he admires you only in your jeans. He is hovering above you, kisses your lips a few times, and cups your tits as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his chest against your breasts as you embrace each other. You giggle softly, “They’re silly, Daddy.”

“Never thought in a million years that my baby would be silly,” he says with obvious sarcasm, nudging your nose with his own, “Show Daddy your pretty little panties. I’m gonna see ‘em eventually.”

You remove yourself from him to step back. You roll your eyes, and he raises a brow but then you follow through. 

“Fine,” you tut as you lie down on his bed. His eyes lock on your buttoned jeans, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes deeply with anticipation hanging in the air. 

You undo your jeans and pull down the zipper, wiggling your hips as you pull the denim down over them, and into view comes your pink cotton briefs. They’re cute, not silly, but you already know this, sporting a little bow on the front and a pattern of chibi-style cats.

“Well?” You kick off your jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Joel kneels on the bed, admiring them thoroughly, “Pussy panties?”

You snort, covering your mouth and nose as you do, “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong, baby?” He crawls closer to you, lifts your legs up to bend them, and spreads them until his thighs hit the back of yours. He reaches up to peel his shirt off and throws it into your arms so you can hug it close and get drunk on his scent. 

“No,” you say as you contemplate crawling into the piece of clothing that he has given you. God, you want him everywhere on you. That masculine smell has you wet in moments.

“Makes ya look real pretty, lovebug,” he compliments, just about to peel the underwear off of you. He stops himself as you scrunch your nose up at the new pet name.

Joel laughs heartily, “Don’t like it?”

“Say it again,” you grin up at him.

“Love. Bug,” he repeats, yanks one of your legs at a time over his hips. 

“Hmm,” you tap your chin, “Maybe you should call me it as I come, just to make me associate it with something nice.”

“Cheeky,” he says as he pulls down his own underwear. They are in no way as thrilling as yours; black briefs that can barely contain his hard cock and with a little logo on the waistband. He settles them around his thighs, and whilst he does, you reach down to pull your colorful panties to the side.

“Joel?” You say his name. He makes a movement as if his ears have perked up at hearing his actual name.

“What is it?” He asks, rubbing your legs soothingly. His eyes are locked on your cunt.

“When— when you’re,” you trail off, suddenly shy, “Uh, when you…”

“Yes?” He drags the word out, looks up. 

“I want you to come on them,” your heart beats in your chest and ears but out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Joel’s cock twitching in the air upon hearing those words.

“Was that so hard to ask for?” He digs his thumbs into your thighs, causing you to squirm underneath him, “You just lie back and let Daddy treat ya right.”

You wait in anticipation. And then, oh.

Ohh.

“Ah,” you mewl, looking down between you to see what he is doing. The thick head of his cock lays heavily against your clit, and when you tell him how good it feels, he holds the base of his shaft and slaps the tip against the small nub a few times. 

You shudder, clenching around nothing and flexing your thighs as you shift a little. Joel’s cock hangs between his legs again, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, thumbs reaching inwards to spread you open and watch your pulsing cunt. 

“You want me to make you feel good, baby? Make you come so hard that your little clit won’t stop twitchin’ until you get all teary-eyed?” He reaches for your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb, and you can feel slick drip down between your ass cheeks. You moan helplessly and nod repeatedly, already heaving for breath, and Joel beams with pride, “Already cockdrunk? My my. I haven’t even fucked ya yet.”

“I don’t want you to f— I don’t want that,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself. You reach down for Joel’s cock, pulling it against your cunt but not dipping the head into you. Instead, you rub him against your clit, “This, Daddy, I want to come like this.”

“I can make that happen,” he reassures, batting your hand away to replace it and grabbing at the base of his cock himself. He resumes what you were doing, dipping the head down to catch some of your wetness before adding pressure to your clit. He slides back and forth a few times, “Like that?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, furrowing your brow in concentration. You hold still to let him rub his whole length through your folds until he is sticky with your arousal. His left hand is still grabbing your hip, and he uses it for leverage as he leans a little weight into you. 

When he grows impatient after a few minutes of you crying quietly for him, he tries to enter you. You catch his wrist and shake your head, “No! No… you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he clicks his tongue at you. 

You pout up at him, “But…”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he groans,  “You know I can’t do anythin’ when you make that face.”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at you.

“Yeah,” you blink your eyes prettily, “This feels so good. I’ll cream all over your cock, Daddy.”

“Now how can I say no to that?” He moves a little before guiding his cockhead back to where you want it. He rubs the blunt head in circles over your clit for a moment, slaps it against the sensitive spot too, until you can hear the squelching sound of your wetness coating you. It makes him glide over your cunt easier. 

You curl your toes and bite your lip as you look down at what he is doing, “Ahh… Keep going.”

He does, building up a rhythm that has you whining pathetically. This shouldn’t be that intense but it is, making your pussy flutter and seek out more. 

“Let me try something,” you say, and he stops as you reach down, “One second.”

With both hands, you take hold of the seam of the leg of your underwear, holding tightly at the very top of it and the very bottom. You yank it down to sit tightly over the girth of Joel’s cock, essentially trapping it underneath your panties so it drags along the shaft with each of his thrusts. He sits so tightly against you now. 

“Try now,” you don’t even have to say please for Joel to know you are begging. 

“Jesus Christ,” he growls at the new sensation, spurred on to make himself feel it even more. He fucks himself against you with a sudden quickened breath. 

The bed starts shaking. You start trembling. 

You’re not able to take your eyes off of your sinful act, chewing on your bottom lip as he works his cock back and forth over and over again underneath the seam of your panties. 

“Please,” your sound is weak, “Fuck!”

“Careful with that,” he scolds, “Eyes on me.”

You quickly look up at his face, barely able to focus with how much he shakes your whole frame with every push of his lower body. 

“Say sorry,” he commands, referring to your use of a swear word. He doesn’t relent one bit, rolling his hips again and again. 

“S-sorry,” you apologize, too focused on how your orgasm is already approaching, “Please.”

“Hold on,” he slows down, and you nearly sob with how close you are, but he only does it to remove his shirt and uncover your chest again. Then he goes back to his frantic thrusts, eyes fixated on the way that your tits bounce with every push of his hips. 

“‘M close, Daddy,” you hiccup, feeling your heartbeat in all parts of your body. You throw your head back and groan loudly at the head of the bed, “I’m so close.”

If you weren’t holding onto your underwear, you would be clutching the bed frame so hard that your knuckles were white. Instead, the fabric is pulled so taut by your fingers that it hurts when it digs into your skin. You probably don’t have to do it so roughly but the pleasure racking up your spine makes you need it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he encourages with ragged breathing. Confident that you won’t let go as you orgasm, he lets go of himself and grabs both of your hips. He hoists you up a little, leans forward a little further, and then drives his hips back and forth, cockhead sliding over your clit repeatedly. 

“I’m gonna— Oh my God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you say it like you’re almost in a panic, almost too overwhelmed to embrace the intensity you’re about to experience. You want to push him away and pull him in at the same time but he holds you so roughly in place that you just have to take it. Your eyes find his as you let it happen, “I’m coming! Daddy, oh f— I’m coming!”

“Yeah? My love bug’s coming?” He nods as encouragement, “Come for me, darlin’ baby.”

And my God, you do. You can feel your whole pelvic floor erupt into beautiful spasms of pleasure, your clit pulsing so fast and strongly that you are sure that Joel can feel it against his dick. You thank God that he is holding onto you because you are twitching and moving involuntarily as he continues his sweet torment, and tears stream down your face. 

“That’s it, baby doll, you just cry all ya want,” Joel manages to coo between his own moans. You sob as your orgasm peaks, even more when you slip into a state of oversensitivity. Joel doesn’t relent, “Oh, baby. I know, baby, I know.”

It isn’t until your panties start to tear that he draws back, precome beading at the slit of his cock from how turned on he is. He is smeared with your arousal too, pearly white, and he seems to have put all the strength he has into holding back so you don’t pass out. 

You shiver, trying to make sense of why your body chose to make you come so hard from a simple clit orgasm. The sweat on your body suddenly feels cold, and you reach for him until he leans down and kisses your lips. You whimper into his mouth. He wipes away a few tears.

“You okay?” He asks softly, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you reply.

“Yes, sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he tuts, “You were gorgeous. God, I am so crazy about you.”

“Now you,” you insist, looking down between the two of you to see the red tip of his weeping cock, “You promised.”

“That I did,” he draws back until he is on his knees again. He grabs the base of his dick, strokes it a few times, and then lays it against the crotch of your underwear. 

Joel rubs the head fast against the soft fabric. He holds onto your thighs, neck muscles straining as he seeks out his own pleasure. You watch him whilst delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, occasionally whimpering when he unintentionally slides over your swollen clit. 

A moment later, after one of your particularly high whines, he comes with a short breath of relief. He stains the fabric, lays his cock heavy against the front of the underwear, and pulses until he has no more to give. It’s intense to see him like this, and you find yourself grabbing his wrist to keep him in the moment with you. 

“Christ, sweetheart,” he pants. He slumps a little.

“I thought it was love bug,” you say with irresistible charm. 

“Don’t make me tell you to lick ‘em clean, young lady,” he smirks, already crawling forward to lay down on top of you. He crushes you so heavenly with his weight, pretending-biting your cheek and causing you to snicker, “Are we clear?”

You hold him close, relishing in everything that he is, “We’re clear. I’ll behave. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He nuzzles into your neck and presses a kiss. 

“Well, I don’t think I’m quite satisfied,” you say dramatically. 

Joel pulls back to glare at you, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I need you inside me too,” you pout even more dramatically, “Pussy feels so lonely, Daddy. Needs something.”

“Well, we can’t starve this insatiable pussy, can we?” Joel catches on quickly, and soon, he has you screaming on three of his fingers. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[astralnymphh]

stuff you up ౨ৎ

aestras thanksgiving smut special

' so who's getting stuffed, you or the turkey? '

HELP PALESTINE . DO NOT BUY TLOU2

♡. summary; fuck the festivities, who actually cares about all that sappy shit. instead, embark a newly founded festivity– fucking your girlfriend up in the dusty memory of your old bedroom~ ♡. a\n; late af as fuck but just a fun little smut, nothing too serious, a bit rushed but here y'all go ♡. CW; groping under the table, fingering (r), clit stim (r), strapping (r), horndog!ellie, dom!ellie, tipsy!ellie, risky sex (joel almost catches u), cock referred as 'her' + referred as ellies, cocktip teasing, ass grabbing, some ass smacking, some plot, jokey bickering, readers a bit bratty, a slight brat-taming moment if you squint, mouth muffling, squirting, petnames; babe, baby, babygirl, princess, good girl, (lmk if i missed anything)

♡ WC; 5.5k ♡ masterlist ♡ thanks 2 @fleshunger 4 proofreading the intro ♡

Paired minds savor the embellishing glow of lit stick candles settled before them in a ritzy manner– shedding light over plates of arraying colors. Marination that glistens, crispness that scrapes, and mushy mesas' of garlic herb potatoes that delicately slump in the cradle of a spoon. Consume with your eyes first, then your cameras– and conclusively, your rumbling tummy. 

Rather to consume what's meant to be, than to gorb the scruffy haired girl next to you– at least for now, yes? 

It's your first Thanksgiving with Ellie, being that you two only linked heartstrings this year.

You, the possibly innocent angel that you are– right now, serve clement smiles to whomever talks to you, be it Joel or some random relative who’s name only just surfed your ears this night, it doesn't matter. De rigueur, wear it well.

A baser mind– I mimic regret while telling you this– tumbles far from the garden of Eden and slips away into a daunting realm, the underworld. By under, I mean downstairs, below the button, the internals. Ellie straight up, served hot, was just bursting with hormones. The tender meat oozing with buttery slick melt fell short in maintaining the contact of those chartreuse eyes, instead, suffering the envy of them rooted to your thighs beneath the oak. 

Noses immerse themselves in salty goodness, eyes feast before gobs could, rolling molars gnaw turkey off the tines of forks, but her, her cunts' the only organ thinking right now.

Especially while seated adjacent to you, her clit was throbbing past the hard material of her jeans.

"You both settlin' in your new apartment?" Joel's bellowed drawl carries over the other muted chatter, low in the background.

"Mhm," your hum slopes and rises behind lips sealed to a glass rim, then part with a smack, "Ellie’s definitely settled more than me." ending with a giggle.

Her ear pivots from you, dirt–dappled nose at the fore, "Oh? What's that 'spose to mean babe?"

"Can't keep your hands off that shiny new Playstation, hmm?" 

"Tchh– you bought it for me." replied her with a skosh of sass.

"That I did."

"Uh–" Joel bumbles.

Els drones out, "Andd all my video games–"

"Where's my thank you?" you pout in frolick, forwarding your face for her view.

Hmph.

Her miffy eyes bounce around her skull hence to piloting back on yours, her own pout puffing, "Okayy, here," she sighs lowly, nosing her lips down to pucker a peck– smacking together.

A shared hum in approval vibrates between the bond of skin, half–approval, a kiss was meager in your book of play, and you felt particularly playful this eve.

With a finished kiss, leaves your mouth to mouth a sneaky little quip, fruitful in a whisper, "Didn't hear a thank you~"

"Hmm?"

"Els.." 

Faces still bathing in transferring warmth, her breath hitches on your mid–face, a sigh to end all worries, "You'll see, just wait." Her voice cracks a bit, silken on your ears.

Waiting wasn't even on the table. 

Not when a brawny hand suddenly gropes your inner–thigh, squeezing the fat in little wags.

Give thanks to whomever, thank fuck for being at the tables edge, where nobody else could witness this.

"Anywho–" Ellie grogs her throat clear of those debaucheries, returning to her normal seated poise, "yeah, like, we're settled– thanks for helpin' us find that place." her pitch heightens, flowing into a nosy chuckle.

"Course, kiddo." softly spoken off Joel’s sentiments, but minding less attention and returning his mouth to something more, toothsome. Foodsome.

Goddess, her grip is mighty.

Devious fingers– they found their way, quick. Fingers such as hers, waxy and pale, rigid and calloused, stamping up your hip and giving firm pressure to the bone. Knuckles flushed of pigment, they dig around the crest wanton, nudging you slightly.

"Seriously?" you spit through grit teeth, wiggling your hips in reaction.

Ellie harks your mutter, tugging those smug corners into a cocky smile as her nervy nature would plant her in, naughty–toothed smile, "Huuh?" that bastard coos, "what's wrong babe?"

"You dickhead." 

"Me, dickhead?"

"Yes, you, dickhead."

"That's a lot of dicks n' heads, what is it with you and dicks n' heads?" she creeps her face closer, squinting dumbly– which only made her onslaught of 'heads and dicks' more peeving now that you really loured at her.

Grimacing at her dense brows queller than a storm, blushy nostrils taunting in a wiggle, it subtly made sense– impish coquetry. The kind of shit you toss like a game of ball, prior to the main event. An event, to be seen.

"Why you givin' me that look, huh?" she squints lower in return, flaring her nose, "Do I have a dick for a head?" 

"I would not kiss you if that were the case," you claim advantage of her closeness and peck her goofish scowl, forcing a crescent to spry on that mouth, "Dork."

Hooks on your hip palpate harsher on the jut, her thumb swiping where the cushion and your butt cleft. Pressure given, when words pique her interest.

"Babe," Els murmured with fry in her chords, "d'ya want it?"

"It?" you gulp.

"Mhm.." thrummed she, eluding, "c'mon, you know.." said with that chilling husk, whew.

Okay, maybe it's clearer–than–a–midsummers–noon clear, that Ellie was a tad tipsy. Pink worm of hers just couldn't resist the samplage of some bourbon, sweet oakey notes that evoke memories of bourbon skies hence, quite the beautifying thought. Skies where you play a shrouded silhouette to her line of sight, tapping thumb to chin in ponder. Ponder, pondering.. for what were you pondering those sunsets?

Yet now you lacked a ponder on whatever the hell she was hinting to, only for it to ferment suddenly.

"Ellie, what are you on–"

"My fingers," a blurt wets her whistle, cocking her head dear to your poor ear, "do you want.. my fingers– in.." you feel her dual digits dive in the crevice of your thigh and groin, curling snugly.

"Ellie.." you hiss, pinching your brows in honest bewilderment.

Her pinkie roves over the bulge of your crotch and punctures the inseam right above your clit, stinging the little bud– which throbbed at her press.

"Do you?" her breath wanes, speech sedated with the aim of persuading you.

Contemplation was considered– maybe too carefully, maybe not. Problem one, legitimately most if not all of your family was within spitting distance of you, but on the other hand, the gutsy hand, weighed her offer slacker than a greedy businessman. In precis, her puppy eyes of coveted sanction, rears triumph. Dickhead.

A caught gulp squeezes down your gullet, puffing your chest out, "Mhm.." 

"Okay.. mhh–" she giggles with husk, creasing up as her lithe fingers trace and wrest your fly open, skulking her hand beneath the hood, "Just focus on dinner baby, I got this.." wisped soft, kindred to cashmere.

The unyielding stretch of your denim fastens around your hips in the act of her palm ramming inside, yanking you forward. Pursing your lips in elated exhales, you try, try to winch meat to mouth and void the tamping of your clit, try as you might– the pleasure is dire.

Ellie’s prints depress a lewd discovery, the stub of her smaller knuckle thickens itself in leaky panty, secreting from your eager hole. A discovery, worth a hushed gasp, "Ooh? Wet already babe? God damn.."

"Shut.. up.." choked you, only reaping a laugh from her.

"Fuck, I do all this?"

"Duh."

"Hehe– fuck that's hot.."

She withdraws her fingers half–way, to slither them under your panties. And without a foraged bit of foreplay, dilates your labia with her furled digits loading inside of you.

A squishy nub brushes your sweet spot.

Your pipes in turn swell with sharp intake, wall of your throat cooling instantly. Fuck, bona fide fuck. Enormously fucked when her pumps wreak gentle squelches from your dewy core.

"Jesus, mhphh.." a gruff of air susurrus from her, starkening her torso in an 'appeasingly normal' angle so she may, blend in, bemusing your mother with small–talk, "So, d'you always have a gathering this big on Thanksgiving?"

Out of all people, really, Els? 

She indulges with a smile, purely answering, "Oh yeah, every year– whole family, too many relative I suppose." fading erratically into a giggle.

"Heh– ‘least you got a big house, shitt– I mean," In spite of sounding casual, slips into a grit curse when your wet walls clench her in, "–dang, what I wouldn't give to live here, right babe?"

A mere butt of her elbow nearly dips you into the waters of appearing– deviant of natural, those slender digits, twisting a tender knot inside. She pumps at a canter, lesser than brisk, swifter than a slug. Beat, beat, beat to your g–spot, akin to the pitter, pitter, pat of your whizzing heart.

"Y–yeah, soo jealous, even though I did as a kid.." laughing it off awkwardly, a bask of 'Please let that be the only time I talk.' relief uplifts your sunk gut, momentarily.

"You still eating well livin' on your own?" your mother queries, tuning that time–old maternal charm.

"I mean, d–decent, enough–"

Ellie thrusts her fingers faster, fashioning a trickle of ooze to froth out onto your underwear. Pacified by the sensations, you clamp tighter, knocking a winded hitch to your staggering speech. Fucking inconvenient. Olives of her eyes binge a glint so bawdy, yet inlaid in a bad case of puppy–face, bullshit purity on her glossy lips. She knew the consequences, and consumed them like nothing.

"Pshh– decent? Babe, please, I'm like the microwave master!" exclaimed she, feigning a biggety tone atop her rasp.

You scoff, "Ah–" shuffling your thighs in light see–saw motions, "again, decent."

The knot squeezes as she finger–fucks the tranquility of mind from your pussy, staring knives at you when her supple thumb drags your clit in flicks.

"Sure it's not good?"

"Mh–mh.."

"Like, really good?"

No way she was referring to the microwave meals anymore.

Your mother intrudes softly, "Honey I can start bringin' you my homemade food if it's not–"

"It's okay, she's just playin' around–" Ellie replies before a vowel can flutter your lips, proceeding to eye–fuck you with a smug visage, "she loves my cooking." she rasped, eyes slimly showing.

All you can spotlight on is her gropey hands, jerking you like some toy, it felt too fucking good. Too pleasant to snuff, too divine to scold, exhilarating to your veins sore with salaciousness. Then, you route back to a ponder, what more could she stipulate? 

"M' gonna go to the bathroom," you swat her hand out and jostle your fly up, netting a coo of amusement from Ellie– secretly.

"You good babe?" she vocalizes after, keeping her pussy–prune digits free of smear.

"Come with me." purred you, hoisting from the oaken chair.

Ellie's lids arise with tangible hots– an aphrodisia densely potent of kindiling her eyes. No anointing of sanctity will ripen her intentions, nor anchor the even throb of her cunt. For a throb is a hymn, to you. She wants you, and she's going to have you. Moments and minutes hence, falter to compare in energy.

Cue her cheek pleating smile.

"Okay–" a light snort prances off her open lips, whirling her lap aside to skim through the tight wedge and stumbling to you, "which bathroom we doin'–"

"Just follow me," your voice aspires over, cusping your hand and snagging her calloused ones in the curve of it, "gonna' show you somethin'."

"Heh–" she chuckles dryly, tailgating with a gentle pull of your forearm.

You two whip around a door nook, glide through the foyer and advance upon a staircase. Your cotton–clad heels stroke wood planks beat by beat, soft wallops that carom off skyscraping maroon wine walls. Ribbons of lunar light dangle on and off your heads, crafting gauzy shrouds that mix and mingle off the corners with a bobbing ascent. Every wall laid reminiscent of a ritzy manor, a lacquer of lavish. 

The flight of stairs then ingress into a much thinner hall, in a much quainter space, and fitted to each doors awaiting enigma. Duller light spills through, glossing the path you took towards a fawny brown door– your bedroom.

Ellie espies the cleave of an abutting door, aiming a bead on with her index, "Wait– isn't that the–"

"Shh," you gingerly rustle air on locked teeth, shifting your arm towards the gilded rotund knob and twining with metal clicks and clacks, "bathroom was just a cover up."

"Oh~" 

"Hmm hm~" you kittenly croon.

The barrier pendulates sideward from your stride, only to be elbowed soundly back to a wisping shut.  You pinch the little knob's notch and, click, lock the door. An amused flit of breath pours from her agape lips, catching your wordless gist bereft of another second.

Ellie thrums that same old rasp, sweetening you up, "Real smooth babe, takin' us up here.." her feet coast her closer to you, kitty–cornering you to a rearwards stumble.

Plaster bumps, a welting sharp ridge– they trench in your ankle and up as your calves butt the wall, inevitably backed up. Trapped, positively trapped. 

"Well–" a scoff enlightens your latter words, "couldn't just stay there with you two fingers deep, hm?" and your 'hm' asks for her agreement, pitch yawing.

"Was 'gonna make it three, but.." 

"But?"

Her head shrouds yours in a gray penumbra, orangey–tint nose a scant whisker from brushing yours, and sends you into a conundrum with a mere utter, a tepid utter, "got uhh', something better for you." tying off with a willed lip bite.

"Oh really?" you moon with pep, hooking a calf around hers.

She smokily coaxes, "Fuck yeah– look." her knotty digits then cruise around her hips, meeting at her denim zipper and tugging that metal tab down. Fleeting as starlight, she thumbs the belt–band and chucks her jeans just beneath the ruck of her asscheek, chafing fabric to fabric with her lax boxers.

A lone brow quirks, expressing the fact that with the way she juts hers hips forward and palms her crotch weirdly– it reared too obvious, "Ellie, don't tell me–"

A springy mass wiggles against the front inseam, held in her teasy tauty grip– veins popping of course, "Tell youu whaat?" her words muff in hoarse laughter.

"Baby.." you exhale, adjoining a whiny moan. Ellie's such a goofy tease.

That simple mass in her crotch, was a sign– a clear, lucid, taintless and foretelling, that you were getting stuffed like a turkey tonight.

In counter, her exhale fuses with yours in dancing particles, so gentle, finer than purity made flesh, "Babe.." and such gentleness caresses your ears, a pureness forgotten in those divinity forsaken puppy eyes– pout moist.

You can't rend your pupils elsewhere, trapped like mice, you gape with encroaching arousal dowsing out your nerves– and drenching down below. Markedly, where you gaze now– her fingers tug the waistband down, exposing the bulbous green head of her cock in her boxers tight band, barely, literal orb of luster dabbled on the tip.

Now your eyes truly cannot escape.

Cotton tenderizes in lines around the bulge, her hand stroking above the shape. And the way you stare, fucks her mind good, speaking throatily, "God," a gulp bubbles, "can't stop starin' hmm?"

"Hehe– couldn't help but wear it?" you snap back.

"Yes ma'am," said off a grunt, pushing said bulge to your curious hand, pleading for a rub, "you gonna' suck her?" soothing is her tone, a breathless moan.

You coo, "Want me to?" and weasel your palm in circles, watching her pelvis follow.

"Uh'huh babe– mhh, need it.." she rolls the hem of her shirt up to her ribs, flaunting that strapping waist– perfectly toned.

Appetent with sure appetite, you nod, a nod that tows her lids down, down.. down, till the green born of her eyes rely on a thin horizon hawkeyeing you. A sliver of sparkle, eager in you. It only takes you dual bends of the knees, stamping chiffony flesh to cold oak and your fingers tucking in her underwear– to excite Ellie.

"Yeah, m'gonna suck her, suck that cock." you mouth in broken vowels, steeping breath on her firm navel pouch.

"Fuck.." she nimbly grunts and tosses her head back, tightening skin on the jounce of her adams apple, swallowing.

Giving tender pressure on her boxers, you slither them netherward until they sojourn atop her bunching jeans fixed above the knee. You swear, those quads of hers clench at your brushing touch, causing your sights to skip up on that dangling cock. Wow. The fat head pokes your nose–tip, curbing up as she cradles its silicone girth to palm.

"Hold uh'," what you expected to be 'up' erupts as a tiny grunt snuffing, eyeing her other hand concealing her lips with a muffled 'puh' to top, "there we go." that hand draws down to smear her spit along the length, squelching mildly.

"Mhh–" you hum shorn of audible sound, batting keen breath on her strap, "–so big.."

You tell her that, everytime. And everytime, she revels in that negligible fact, shutting her eyes in skin–sheathed darkness– pinpointing on how too–too hot that seems. And the way you say it? Oof.

Ellie tacks five fingerprints on your head's crown and coaxes in flits of force, easing you on, "My god, babygirl– oooh.." she relishes an oval–mouthed moan, watching your lips wrap her cockhead.

And it's warmer than anything you've gobbled so far this eve.

Balming a heat like that, tucked in her boxers so neatly and snug– it tickles your gums. Soft and pliant, your lips are, they crease and roll under as you swallow her in, impressing a pit on your tongue when they meet.

"Hhmmm.." you moan a mouthful on the frothed up silicone, dragging your lips back over to motion a bounce of your head.

"I know~" she coos to your bumble, pucking her hips with an equal piston to her pelvis, "them' lips feel goood– fuuckkk.." as if you can feel them, dork.

You clasp her thickness in hooks of your tongue, sending splotches and globs of spit to pool around your oval–ringed mouth, courtesy of her tip bumping your throat in, "Guh- guh, guh, guhh–" prods. 

Ohh, that birdsong. The quaffing of your vocal bands subject to her humps, producing a rhythmic beat to alight her hormones. Your song worthy of hearing. You wimp the swelling sink that her nails wreak, a flicker between cuspate tapering and a meek love– a calling for more.

Enlighten me a morsel of those twisted, dirty thoughts, auburnhead devil.

Leathery wads of her free digits roam hot on your pulping cheeks, chiseling out as you suck. Her fingers then find themselves arcing a tuck behind your ear, thumb printed to your temple. A dash of encourage, she presses, a truer than blue visage, she contorts ran by pleasure. Squelch, suckle, drag spit, and repeat.

Due to your stretching spread of lips taking her well, likeness of a blockade in your mouth, you couldn't speak. Obviously. So over the wish–wash of saliva, Ellie tunes you in with her filthy comments.

"Suckin' my filthy cock.. fuck–" she pauses with a gruff moan, baking in your brain deep, "gonna' make me cum so goood–" her vowel strains, clenching her pussy lips around nothing except the cool, cruel air, "yes.." 

A reed of cold nips your chin, seconds hence realization settles; you're getting sloppy. A manifestation of Els actually fucking your noggin to slosh, wouldn't spark surprise if liquid poured from your cranium at this point.

Her own arousal rots you further down, too.

With the feeling of her cock climbing near hellward down your throat, smacking on the gummy walls, and the husk her moans endure, crucifies your pussy with an ache of want. Fabric of your jeans suffers a beat, your clit, throbbing. It hurts so good and it stings so right, so tight, you need her now.

A faster bob you give, the more Ellie can't take it either. 

"Babe–" she hawks out, but fails to halt your bopping movements, "babe, fuck–" the digits parked behind the conch of your ear skip and push your jaw up, staking her cock out with a spring. 

"Ghh– schhlp, huh?" a chuck of spit muddled your words, unfurled tongue lapping up every web left by your messy, messy mouth.

Nook of her hand like a cusp to your jaw, she beckons you with a nudge, and rasps, "Up– c'mon, n'turn that ass around." 

Ass. Something about that word reverberated in you, bothered you hotly, made a tepidness leak from your cheeks. The rasp she rung it with, eyeing you with twin fern flames for irises– an approaching engulfment to marry your skin with ashen blessing, more consuming. Ass, Ash, haha.

A flutter in your hips spreads like fire across your legs. It weakens the muscle you bend, standing upright challenged resemblant of a feat, especially when Ellie's grabby gropes found purchase in the crevice of your hips, spindling you on a quick axis. It wanes the composure you hold like a goblet, dwindling to shattered shards across the floor, primarily as those bedeviled claws slot under rough woven denim and remove them false of trouble and trick– ruching to nothing at the root of your ankles.

Where happy hubbub clamors downstairs, pleased pandemonium moans upstairs.

A jut of two knobby hip bones thump into each asscheek, denting the skin into a gully. Warmth, a ligature of it rides through your backside, making you shake. Not like her hands would let you tremble, one being so immovably returned to your hip.

"Fuuck that pussy 'been waitin' for me, huh? Can just tell.." mumbles her with vocal fry, pupils ogling bare of shame at your cinched folds, clasping nothing.

"Your fault."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm.." you hum timidly.

"Gonna call me dickhead again, or–" a fat ball teases the dripping lips of your pussy, spreading them slightly and sloshing the skin around, "Is this enough?"

To give way, was a mistake, buckling your pelvis deeper on her cock which faces a grip ardent to shaft– teasing with rolls of her wrist. The cockhead, or literal dickhead, warps and smooshes against your clit as she toys with it. A whiny, "Huuh– Els.." mangles in your larynx, pitching.

"Yeah, you like that? Know you do." that damned smirk lives in her curving tone, sweet with a dash of tang. Her cock dilates your delicate folds further, exposing the velvet flesh to cold air and an intrusive visit. 

Your fiendish pussy kisses her cocktip and ceases its movement, clamping her in place, whimpering, "Mhh, ahh– ah.." 

"Hey, 'lemme go– was just getting started babe," she laughs crisply, landing a fine plume touch to your ass, "c'mon.. loosen up.."

A flux of slacken tires the muscles that clamp her in, hugging your entrance more softly around her tip.

Ellie winches weight on her knees, crouching her groin into you with a slow swerve, "There we go.." she purrs with tension in her tune, relieving a sigh when her cock pops in silkenly.

You seize up, gasping sharply, hips begging to break brittle in her grasp of iron– but iron does not deform easily. Pressure stays pressured, and digits knurl over the hill of your hip bone to prop it upright. With walls expanded on her cock like your pussy was made for her, it humbles you, belittling you to sludge in her metal caress.

"Fuuckk yeah–" she broadens her sigh of bliss, abrading on the 'K', like a crackle. Pleasure kills neutrality in the smoothest way, gathering grooves in her forehead, "y'feel so warm baby.. mhmm–" 

"That's not even your dick.." you half–way give a giggle, suppressing the moans you choke up.

A tense whistle of air sounds from Ellie's nose, a reaction of vague irritation, "Swear to god.." her tongue smacks after and a sudden thrusting of her fat cock catches your mind astray, winding those choked moans out. 

"Uhn– uh fuck, huhh–" you babble.

"Not my dick huh? Who's fucking you? Tell me, fuck– yeah?" Her words warble where skin smacks, wetness palping in obscene squelches. 

Does she really expect you to answer when her cock continually swells your cunt and abuses your g–spot? Yeah. Ellie will fuck the answer from one hole to the other, if she so feels compelled to.

But of course, you don't answer.

"Baaabeee," she taunts, "baabyyyy," and tortures, "who she getting fucked by right now, tell mee.." and fucks, cooing purer than vernal spring washed in the rain, mushing globs of pre–cum all over your cervix.

"Y-you.."

"That's right."

This feels almost violating to your vagina, to be stuffed like this. Did she size up? Get a new strap? Whatever the case presents itself as, it felt fucking good. Made you woozy, each bop she played like a drum on your sore ass, summoning a white ring of creamy sap to veil around her cock's girth. White droplets failed to envelop her cock, though, each jiggle of your muck bodies lashing beads of it onto the oak boards, your thighs, her pretty auburn bush, etcetera. Attempting to grab the wall, duh– that fails, then you scramble jittery digits across said wall, awkwardly finding a rigid door trim to grasp at long last– speak of the devil, Ellie laughs at that.

"Haha– aww, too big for you princess?" she utters to you like a dumbass, ego brimmed with the pumps her cock skids on your gummy walls, smirking with thinned lips.

Vulnerability loathes humility, "Fuck y–you."

"Sure."

Her perception of sight, harboring verdancy, drops low to your bulging hole that swallows her good– as you should, tender milk that pools inwards as she slides out, and froths a flood of slick when she humps it back to the same hole it spilled from. 

Might she indulge more sampling?

Ellie's hell–sworn index traces your swelling folds mellowly, togging a cap of pearly cum on her finger pad. Scrutinize, then she licks. Her peach lips kiss her finger softly, puckering wrinkles as she sucks the sleek off, "Sssmhpt–" her lips zip, "yeah–ha, that's what 'm taking about–" delighted, she is.

The knot in your womb begins to coil and fill, a rapturous sting impaling inside. Your folds, springing on her friction, sends a ripple to fluctuate in your ass cheek. Enticing. So enticing, Ellie grabs a handful, bloating fat strokes of your buttcheek between the webs of her delirious fingers.

"Ghh– yes.. yes–" she growls, deep in her lungs. The harness in return rubbed her clit in all the right ways, electrocuting her legs with a twitch, "arch that bsck f'me baby, c'mon– arch on my fuckin' cock–" 

Harking her, you heed. Heed with a convex draw of your back, protruding your ass out for her messy usage. That– that was the last straw, her only straw. You being so keen. Something less than a mutter of, "Good girl." was the last audible voice you could pick up, her game swapping to a faster ramming into your sloppy pussy.

"Ellie!" you wince, praying on a star, "So g–good.." you gape and fall forward, smearing slobber on the drywall.

Her cock was too much. 

A tear soaked upon that very wall, gifting it a taste of your salty heaven.

"Mhmm– god, fuck fuck fuck! You're so good, s'good t'me.." a breath shuddered, she limps forward onto you. Her pale hips still punishing with a litany of humps, now scores deeper on your gushy cervix, her drenched chest marking hot on your clothed back.

"Needa' cum– Els, babe.." why you were even asking, might flummox a future specter of yourself– purling on her thickness, feeling the endless tension pull from you in strings of cum, kissing the head of her cock, you were on the train track to cumming already. Dumbified questions really egged Ellie on, luckily.

"Yeah baby, want'chu to– all over her, she needs it, mhm–" she assures you, two foam–spit lips stamping your lobe, "feel that baby?" her elbow mounts like a belt to your hip crest, ducking under and tamping your womb, palm to pudge, and intones, "She's so fucking deep– shit.." 

Spade of her cock punching your walls, over and over, you finally snap. The added hand to your belly, sought it done. Done well, pronto. 

You convulse in tight vices to squeeze her dick, orgasm shaking you to the literal core, "Huunhh– Ellie, Els! Ssuhh– Ell–" a clammy paw wedges your mouth from splitting the walls with your uproar, fingers tender on your lips cushion.

"Shh– shh.. not so loud babe, take it easy–" snuffing you, she talks clemently, little grunts detailing you on how close she was, too, "that's it.. don't hold back baby– uh, fuck."

Her cock fucks you just right, blows you fried so easily, with every heavy lunge– you weep.

A pang twisting inside averts a sightly gaze to the beautiful coastline of darkness, pure oblivion. Fuzzy dollops of faded splotches prance your vision like a sick joke, mocking your high. You can't even croak, not even a peep, just sit back and let cum dribble from your hole, plashing her filthy cock in a sick mess.

Right on a dream–like cue, a snarled groan mauls from the deepest depth of her diaphragm, fresh on your ear, "Ghhodd– fhmm, good fuckin' pussh– mhh!" 

Splash.

Her lids squinted tight, nose flared wide, she came. In waterfalls you couldn't observe, but swore you heard. A geyser to the floor, hyaline ribbons of her precious flavor taint the floor so disgustingly, so vividly, it shines.

Guess the wine loosened both of her lips.

She usually does not cum like that.

Damn.

Muggy exasperation fans your neck in ghostly hands that wrap, a recalescent mist baying for some kind of relief in dramatic swells and shrinks her chest pushes into you. Then, something moreso flobbed, a chuckle.

"Heheh–" her fingers slip from your lax lips, tapping kittenly on your chin.

"That's was, mhh– um–" you huff, dead of air just like her.

"Good?"

"Yup, just– couldn't.. oof.." 

Her lips purse and plant a kiss to your scruff, grinning against the flesh, "Did good for me," moist smacks besmirch further, rasping, "felt so good t–"

A beating of hardy steps peals through the door's underside, sending a wash of shock over both of you abruptly.

"Fuck." Ellie's voice muffles sotto voce, darting grips to your folded hips, thumbs tacking on the streched knoll your ass provided.

You perk your ears in tune of this noise, gut instinct curls and kicks your body to move, bucking back on Els– who mind you, was still sheathed inside you.

That knocked another grunt from her, "Hmmph– don't do that– god, babyy.." she whines, runting back into you.

Hole stuffed back up, you clench your fists into a ball. This idiot.

"Ellie? You in there?" A familiar, dense, Texan drawl aptly known as Joel's, beacons from beyond the door.

That's bad.

"Shit what do I–"

"Get off, for onee–" a tense on your chords, you huff, bucking her muck sweat thighs off your hind and skidding out her cock pronto. The sudden emptiness was jarring, but, no time to waste.

"Fuck! Again–" she hisses.

You crouch your bare bum inches from the floor and swoop up the pooling pile of denim and cotton panties, rearing them up and fiddling with the metal button. Ellie followed suit, the best of her abilities– sex really fogs up her faculties, and pressed her cock plumb to her stomach as to tuck it properly her boxers, letting the band snap in place on waist– gently.

Triple knocks erupt, and then his bellow, "Kiddo?"

"We're good, we'll be down!" she calls back, eyes far from not studying your scurrying silhouette, just has to comment, "–fuck that ass." like she wanted more.

A grumbled 'Hmm' vibrates on the oak, trailed by fleeting footsteps that trudge away, thump, thump– you get it.

"Oh?" you kink your whisper, foxily, "second rounds?" and pivot around to face her.

"Mphht– not what I meant, dickhead." her voice deepens weirdly at the brink her sentence plonked upon, cocking her head with a smirk.

"Whatever." your eyes roll, capering off the room's corners.

"Hmph–" gruffed in amusement, "Cutie." gingerly steps huddle you right against that wall again, two biceps meeting warmth–to–warmth with your soaken shirts waistline.

Scoff, just scoff, "I think this is how second rounds start, liar." 

She goes all bumbly, furrowing those bushy orange brows and frisking her eyes in a roll, copycat, "Don't get me started, pleasee." she begged fakely, cadence dense.

"Too late."

"You're right." her lips, wisp to yours so perfectly timed, interlocking one pink bud under your top lip and butting noses, plushing together in tide. Even plopped a little smack to the clad meat of your ass, how sweet.

A scant hint of dinner lingered on her breath, passed to you like a spill. Makes you want to slink those stairs in one go for a different palate of seconds. But, alas, you two bet smooches on the hope of no further interruptions, scarfing up kisses like hungry dogs.

(pls lmk if u wanna be added to the perm list, some mentions didnt work!)

@whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss

[candiid-caniine]

support needs and sex

having trouble with words recently. during this, I don't post much. have autism, have talked about it here before, but only small things.

but lots of frustration recently about representing. how people with low support needs have louder voices. people with cute, quirky autism get represented more because neurotypicals don't feel as uncomf. still they have their struggles but you know. middle to high support needs are uncomf. have to hide, have to be quiet. people with low support needs, also sometimes think *their* autism is *all* autism. don't want to talk about mid/high supports people, or be associated.

but, speech loss bad enough that I don't want to go into it today. stick to what is doable.

autistic people have sex. autistic people do kink. lot of positivity here about this. i've seen it. you've seen it. you've seen me also do it.

but autism in sex, not just:

cute stimming because sex feels good

sensory overload, in a good way

hard to speak because of good feelings

person getting flustered/shy/nervous

not only cute. not only shy. not only because of good feelings.

autism can be ugly, scary, difficult, bad communicating, hard to know how to support, getting in the way.

for me:

speech loss; not cute speech loss because of good feelings, speech loss because life is exhausting; exhausted, don't want to have sex

handling rejection poorly. have to use a lot of energy to keep from being a bad partner because of overreacting

sensory overload because good, but i dissociate because sensory overload

use sex to escape bad feelings, not in a healthy coping way

can't explain why i react poorly. in most circumstances. but also happens around sex

frustration because i can't think how to explain

meltdown because so frustrated

cycle repeats

have trouble understanding un-firm versions of "no" (have to work hard to communicate with partner, and i do, but hard work af)

have trouble understanding "maybe"

have trouble predicting how i "will/would" feel

thus frustration. meltdown. cycle resumes

or, know what i want; don't know how to explain

AND YET: i am not:

too dysfunctional for sex/relationship

"basically a child"/too immature

unsafe person

too fucked up for marriage

bad person for dating

someone who should avoid sex until burnout ends

...because i am adult. my partner is an adult. we talk about things. we know good expectations. i don't lie about can/can't do things. they don't lie about can/can't do things.

sex is only one slice of this. this blog is about sex, so i post it here. but these issues are big in my life. need support in school, in work; i seem so functional to a stranger, but only because support needs are met.

support needs met = big privilege. i acknowledge this. not so easy for many people, who seem less functional to others, only because support needs not met.

anyway. conclusion:

neurotypicals/non-autistics: don't expect sex + relationships with autistics to be like sexy imagine posts on tumblr. can be sometimes, but often not.

autistics, even: don't expect sex + relationships with other autistics to be like sex + relationships for you.

low support needs autistics: you guys have a problem. (maybe technically i am you guys, don't really know, so maybe *we* have a problem.) some of you don't like when autism represented as mid-high support. don't like to think you're like us. not cool. either way stop speaking like *your* autism is *all* autism. if you have energy + time + emotional resource to do so, tell off other low support needs when they act like this.

high/mid support needs: i see you. you belong. you deserve healthy, good sex if you are adult. support needs =/= being unworthy/not well enough/not functional enough for relationship. possible to have relationships that work for you, allow for the kind of support you need, from other person/medical team/support system. don't mask to get through relationship. hurts you, you should be loved for who you are.

[apocalypseofgoodandevil]

OMG OOHMFKFUDUFUSUDSUDUSYDU OHMVOXFKGNDOSIS AAAAAA

Im going to SQU3AL IRL OMGGG

I love this SOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA OP!!!

May i get some art of my 2ss?

yee :)

i got a little stuck on what pose/style to do and juggled them through a few of my art programs so some partly done stuff below

they seem like a little gremlin and i wanted to draw them with a star

[wi55iams]

Carlos definitely identifies as an introvert, he called himself one during the nude project podcast and said he much prefers small gatherings at home as opposed to going out to a club. Also mentioned in the past he doesn’t enjoy crowded places, so is unlikely to attend events like a music festival, etc. I think some people get thrown off because he can be loud and chatty, but even before the podcast, he’s always struck me as an introverted, reserved and private person.

I also saw your ask about him not enjoying busy partying and not being able to let his guard down at clubs and yeah, I agree. Especially that people don't think he's introverted because he's loud and chatty. I'm loud and chirpy af when i'm happy; I still need hours alone to recharge. A lot of what he's said really sent the autism alarm bells ringing in my head. ESPECIALLY about being perceived by other people. Most neurotypicals aren't always worrying about how they look to other people, and a lot of autistics 'mask' our traits, and him not liking 'letting his guard down' made me go from 'lol, Carlos seems kinda autistic sometimes' to realizing he displays a LOT of symptoms. Not diagnosing him OBVIOUSLY but like. Out of anyone of the gird, I would say he's the likeliest to be autistic. It's hard to spot individually but when you see him being clearly introverted and private, having only a few close friends, his various stims like with his jaw and repeating words, his VERY focused and intense work style. Yeah. That's just my opinion as a biased autistic tho. On another note, everyone should go and support a diagnosed autistic driver in F2 and WEC rn and that is Ritomo Miyata!

[beeloovedd]

"Everything"

Rite Here Rite Now Spoilers!!

Tw!: Crying, Flower language (like flower meanings), letting go, Phantom stimming

"You look amazing Pa-Frater! Just like Dracula!"

Phantom says happily as he looks at Copias new look, he flaps his hands in excitement despite the slight tears in his eyes

Copia smiles and nods, a bit flustered and nervous about everything

"thank you Amore Mío"

Copia is on the way to his new office and the Ghouls are lined up on the way to his new office

He steps to Aurora who is already teary eyed and it's clear a few have already fallen

She takes a shaky breath before speaking

"Frater, I may not have known you for that long but..you were the best Papa anyone could ask for"

She says, originally planning to have more of a speech but her tears and the breaking in her voice unable to let her continue

"Thank you, Princepessa" he says, wiping his eyes

He takes a step to Swiss who has a soft smile on his face

"Well, you've made it Papa"

Swiss says trying to hold back the tears since he doesn't like crying

He holds Copias hand and rubs his thumb over his hand as he stands straight

"I'm proud of you Copia" Swiss manages to get out with his voice only breaking a bit

"Thank you Swiss"

Copia says before taking a step to Cumulus

She wipes he eyes as the tears fall, Cirrus holding her hand she squeezes back before taking a deep breath and speaking

"I'm so proud of you Copia, I knew you could make it through"

She says with glossy eyes as she pulls out something small from her pocket

"Here"

She says as he holds out his hands and she gently places a small Crochet daffodil bloom flower in between his hands

He smiles and sniffles

"Thank you"

He takes a deep shaky breath before walking to Cirrus

Cirrus smiles

"Congratulations Copia"

She says softly

"But even as Frater Imperator you still can't get rid of us"

She says jokingly with a small laugh

Copia laughs and smiles, holding the crochet flower to his heart

"wouldn't have it any other way"

He smiles before walking to rain

"Wow" Rain says with a smile

"You made it. After working hard and staying up all those nights you FINNALY made it" He says with a smile

Copia closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and not cry

"take you break Papa, you deserve it" Rain says as he holds copias hand before gently letting go

"Will do" Copia says with a nod and smile

Copia takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes before walking to Mountain

"You did it Papa" Mountain says, cheeks wet from tears

"If you need anything, come to us but please relax on your time off. I've seen you work so hard from Cardinal to now"

Mountain takes a deep breath before speaking

"Frater Imperator"

He says as another tear falls

Copia sniffles as a tear falls, leaving a mark in the black face paint around his eyes

Copia smiles and looks down before standing up right and taking a deep breath and walking towards Dew

Dew smiles and takes a step forward

"Well Papa, you did it" Dew says as he holds out his hand and copia takes it

"We've seen you grow from Cardinal to Papa to now Frater Imperator. Been through all of your struggles with you and now look at you! Youve made it. Relax and take your time, you deserve it"

Dew takes a breath before speaking, his eyes watering

"We'll Miss You, But you'll always be here. And we'll always be here for you, if you need anything, anything just come to the den" Dew says before hugging copia tightly, tears now running down his face

"I'm so proud of you Copia, you deserve this" Dew says af they hug

After a few minutes of silence copia speaks loud enough for everyone to hear

"thank you"

"For what Papa?" Some of the ghouls say, all of them listening non the less

"Everything"

[elslittlestories]

The Bad Autistic Batch

I've had this in the back of my head for a while and finaly took the time to write it down. It's a mix of observtions and headcanons I guess? On how I feel like the 4 original members of the Bad Batch are all autistic af!

Tech

The obvious one. He said it himself, his brain doesn’t process thoughts and moments the way most people do.

He has a hard time identifying his feelings and therefore tends to push them away and rely on logic and rational thoughts, which always come easy and loud in his mind.

Very gifted, he’s too smart to care about social rules and never bothered to learn cues and small talk. He was created to solve problems, people shouldn’t expect anything else from him. He comes off as cold and obnoxious to most people, always speaks bluntly without thinking of the effect of his words on the person opposite him. Simply because it doesn’t occur naturally to him that some truth might need sugarcoating.

He’s a self-taught everything, with infinite curiosity and thirst for knowledge. He gets bored fast though and will skip from one subject to another as soon as he feels like he’s mastered it. He’ll get REALLY excited if you ask him questions about anything.

He doesn’t care about his looks, as long as it’s practical, he’s good with any outfits. Although, he’ll wear comfy clothes whenever he can. His hair is kept just long enough so that he can slick them back with gel and get them stuck with his goggles’ headband.

To self-sooth, he relies on his sound databank—he can listen to a record on a loop for hours—and mental games such as counting backward from 1 million with only prime numbers. Tapping on his datapad is probably also a sort of stimming.

Outside of his brothers, he has a hard time maintaining a relationship, may they be platonic or not. To start, he doesn’t really understand the concept of different types of relationships. He’s oblivious to most hints of interest and needs someone—Wrecker—to point it out. He’ll panic, be really awkward about it, overshare to hide his fluster…until he figures out what makes you tick and weaponizes it!

Crosshair

In case there were any doubt, he’s a neat freak. He NEEDS his stuff to be in the right place, as much as he needs routine and discipline to control his stress level. Even though his military training has taught him how to deal with the unexpected, he has a hard time dealing with change.

If given the choice, he’d only wear his blacks. The tightness of the fabric is comforting and he doesn’t have to think about assembling an outfit or whatever. He cuts his hair every week, the same exact way, from left to right, then the backside of his head.

He won’t eat new food unless his hunger is life threatening, not because of sensory issues but because his transit is a bigger drama queen than he is!

He’s the most emotionally immature of the squad and used to have the wildest mood swings. He became good at keeping a stern straight face once he realized people would use it as a way to arm him. He’s also the most stubborn: good luck trying to change his mind on anything.

On a general basis, he hates people. Especially the one that wants to touch him! The only person allowed to hug him is Wrecker, because there’s no stopping him anyway. He may go mute when overwhelmed, hence the number of fights he got himself into rather than have a talk. With time and around the right people, he might get better at dealing with his feelings, but for now it’s easier to just avoid people, since they’re the one causing said feelings.

Maintaining any sort of relationship is close to impossible outside of his brothers. It takes a very special person—like Echo—to get his affection and respect. Romantic feeling are out of his bucket list, he finds the concept of flirting ridiculous anyway. If you want to be with him, just say it! He’ll probably reject you, the man has some heavy attachment/abandonment issues to sort out first. Trust Omega to help with that, so maybe one day…

Wrecker

THE emotionally mature one of the squad! Feelings are always intense for him and he wears them on his face. He’ll cry for anything, but since he can break your spine with his bare hands, people usually don’t make fun of him out loud.

He has huge difficulties in learning practical stuff—he was the last to speak clearly and read—and won’t do anything good with verbal instructions if they go longer than 5 to 10 words. He’s good with his hands, though, and once Tech got him into the marvelous world of explosives, he became unstoppable. Even Tech will admit Wrecker is the expert in the matter.

Another thing he was quick to learn, thanks to his emotional awareness and Hunter’s help, was how to read people. If only to stop being played! It might also be the secret to their squad sticking together despite their differences and hot temper.

He’s very open about needing "autistic joy", such as eating his favorite snack, listening to a song on a loop and watching things blow up. It tends to make him look childish. His brothers are very protective over this and make sure nothing prevents Wrecker to enjoying his sweet nothings.

He loves to isolates for an hour or two, to watch his favorite holovids, but is otherwise very touchy feely. Hugs sooth him a lot when he’s stressed out. If he can’t get one, he’ll rely on singing his favorite tune or repeating a word in his head. He used to do it out loud when he was a kid but it drove his brothers mad so he internalized it.

He can handle a flirt, although he has a hard time catching a hint. It’s easier to notice someone’s interest on others than himself, probably because of his lack of self-esteem. He’d most likely be a very clingy partner.

Hunter

AKA the king of masking. He may look as close to normal as a defective clone can be, in control of himself, but take a step into his mind and you’ll be surprised.

First of all, he has HUGE sensory issues, no doubt worsened by his genetic enhancement. He has learned to tough it out and ignore the strong reaction some textures or smell or sounds causes him to experience. But they tend to turn into stress. He’s constantly devoured by anxiety and fear—of anything from touching that one thing that will overstimulate him so much he won’t be able to function, to making a bad call that cause one of his brother’s death—and there’s no amount of spinning his knife that can sooth it.

He relies on rules and discipline to get a sense of control, even though one might argue his sense of both those concepts is not exactly by the book. It tends to help with tuning down his emotions as well. Just like every sensory input is loud to him, his feeling can be deafening and mastering them was mandatory to become the squad leader.

It was with that in mind that he became an expert in social behaviors. Mostly unconsciously, he studied everyone around him to learn how to hold himself and how to read the room. Despite him being naturally introverted, you’ll often find him chatting with the various captains his squad was assigned to work with. Told you, he’s a king of masking.

On the rare occasions he failed to contain his emotions—bursts of anger on the battlefield aside—it came out loud and violent. Took Wrecker to squeeze him in his arms for Hunter to calm down.

One thing he couldn’t learn this way is flirting. He can’t do it for his life, despite being the receiver of numerous attempts from various species. Maybe it’s because of his sensory issues, but the idea of sex is of no appeal to him and he has never felt something strong enough to be called romantic love. That stuff is just not for him, he feels contempt with his brothers and Omega.

Oh, and the bandana is just an excuse for no easy hair routine. Give him one reason to get out of his armor and blacks, and he’ll slip into floppy clothes in a heartbeat.

Last but not least, all four of them have a STRONG sens of justice—although sometime missplaced—and prefers staying home rather than being anywhere else, wherever home may be.

[cannibal-nightmares]

stein headcanons that no one asked for

- ambidextrous

- schizospec and/or autistic

- on this note, he has a limited selection of comfort clothes and refuses to replace things he's used (hence the patchwork motif...)

- cuts his own hair (and is at least ok-ish at it) and eventually let's Marie cut it for him (he has let Spirit do it before, but he's not good at it in any capacity).

- in tandem to that, he doesn't like strangers touching him because his soul shifting gets exhausting really fast

- furthermore, he is at least gray-panromantic. Probably ace. Maybe aromantic.

- has a wacky pain tolerance

- this being said, he has arthritis and/or limited feeling in his hands

- has a lot of joint pain on account of being so tall, possibly scoliosis

- always has short nails; I can't decide if it's because he chews them, if they're short for the practicality of his work/interests, or if it's because he's...

- ...lowkey a hypochondriac, but tries to hide the fact

- if Stein happens to be trans, I'd like to think he had a lot of joy in people commenting on his height in high school

- is really hyper-aware of how many spoons he has at any given time, but can sometimes have a hard time verbally making it known it to the people around him

- sews his own clothes, also due to his height, and is good at it. He has even tailored and sewn custom clothes for Spirit

- has given some of his own clothes to Spirit because he always goes back to his usual rotation and doesn't like to have an excess of things

- chapped lips king

- his laboratory is cold af

- may or may not eat well on his own, but appreciates a quality meal more than some might

- can struggle with food contamination phobias when his head is fuzzy

- is diligent towards his neurodivergent students and gently offers a kind ear to those who need it

- prone to sleepwalking after a string of high-stress days

- his night terrors are no joke

HCs I've noted explicity from other people:

- Stein's screw was intentionally designed to rehone, reshape, and self-regulate his soul wavelength since Spirit left him as his weapon partner. This, and extreme emotions tend to knock it out of alignment. (@/wispforever)

- has disassociative amnesia, particularly from when he was a child and when he has episodes (@/wispforever)

- loved spinning around as a kid and replaced the stim as an adult with his desk chair (@/wispforever)

[helpiamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

*Child y/n stimming with Tim*

Rude person: Look at those weirdos....

Dick: *Starts blinking at inhuman speed while smiling hard af*

[optical-vagueness]

that was... weird? unexpected for sure, in the sense that I expected some things that were different from this. those things weren't better and this wasn't worse.

I would love this to be the end for Kevin's development, because as they put it, it's a kind of loop. We know how it will develop later for younger Kevin. We know it will end with him adopting himself and restarting the cycle. It's a nice way of wrapping it up. There's a post someone else made with this point.

I would have liked to have Charles in this episode, if not something from Carlos. I hoped we could see more of his struggle, because seeing Night Vale being affected yet again by his research on the DOW surely brought back Trauma from It Devours!. But we didn't. And, as Charles is a theologist, this would have been the perfect moment for him to get development. But he didn't.

The thing that impressed me the most was the sound design for Cecil's distraction. That was crazy and actually made me wake up. Because I was lying on my bed with my pillow nearby in case I needed to hug it. I yelled "WHAT" at the revelation of Kevin as his own father. I was happy that Carlos stopped his research yet again. I hoped I would hug my pillow and feel nervous and wake up and start pacing my room.

But, well, I guess I need to relisten to the episode some other day, with good sleep (because I haven't slept for two days. Making a paper on Carlos is hard af) and then I will maybe get some stuff I probably didn't in this first listen.

But, please, I don't think it was necessarily bad. I would advise against making your conclusions this quickly. Many people disliked the UOWII arc and ending, but if you see it from another perspective, it's actually good (I did hug my pillow and pace the room and stim with my hands in a crazy way while listening to it. And I still do in each relisten). But idk, you do what you want I guess.

[dracolizardlars]

Non comprehensive list of all the shit I used to do as a kid that I can't tell whether they're red flags for being neurodivergent or just normal weird kid stuff:

obsessed with eating paper, specifically the corners of book pages, to the point it was almost a compulsion (ages ~5-7)

also gnawed on my wooden bedframe like a beaver (ages 6-10)

godawful handwriting including a tendency to write a lot of letters and numbers backwards, despite high reading level (ages 4-9)

would often outright tell my best friend I wanted to play alone at lunch break and then just wander around daydreaming (ages 6-8 but similar behaviour continued til I was about 14)

had something akin to a vocal stim; a tongue-clicking sound I would do compulsively for a while despite my parents trying to break me of it, I think around age 7, but a bit later it graduated into a whistling stim for a while

**major red flag**: had a lot of Things around using the toilet I don't wanna get fully into here, actively resisted going to the toilet at home for no reason until at least 10 and refused to use public toilets until about 13-14, again for absolutely no reason

There's definitely more I can't think of rn, I was a weird af kid and I've been thinking about it from time to time over the last few months.

Also on the "coordination issues" front, as an adult I'm still slow at swimming and writing by hand, and completely incapable of using chopsticks no matter how hard I try.

[jellyfishvibes]

hi jelly! what's your favourite headcanon about flora?

Oh god i have so many, you will be getting a Flora rant

Ok so love me a classic super nerd Flora, absolute grease monkey that girl, would casually rip off the back of the slate and fix something in there without pausing her sentence, I'd also pin her down as a sewing nerd, not just cause she was the one who made all the champions clothes but cause i think she has like a 3d puzzle brain, and both mechanical problems and clothing construction slot right into that perfectly (i have ideas about all the zelda's being some flavor of fiber art girlys but that's an aside thing)

I also!! love dragon traits!! on Flora!!! which is why i've be hesitating with her redesign cause my brain is struggling to figure out the engineer-draconic design marrying without it getting way too busy

Shes totally got autism, her and Wild got that opposite autism disease, he's strong silent very non verbal and shes a massive chatterbox that cant help herself but explain everything, he's super hands on with everything, can't help himself but touch to figure out what stuff is and shes super squiked out by texture and wears her gloves so she doesn't feel any bad sensations, i imagine she whacked off her hair cause she couldn't stand the feeling of it long but like put up with it because of her father/for the princess image? (also maybe inspired Riju to cut her own hair shorter, i love Riju and Flora being besties) Wild loved braiding her hair as a fidget thing and grew his own out cause he liked hers so much, I think she began to understand why he liked that so much when she cut her own and used her hairstyling knowledge on him, it's way more fun to do it to someone else then to wear those styles all day you know?

If she keeps some form of scales after totk i think she picks at them as a nervous habit (and probably gets multiple slaps on the wrist from Wild to not pull them for research Zelda please-) i also really like the idea of her like, back spike guys? being like fingernails, it that she still has the crystalline spikes back there and so she can still lie down on her back Wild helps her chip them down to like flat crystal discs on her back, they still probably grow and they need to be cut off regularly but she probably has a tonne of the crystal lying around and makes stuff out of it, also the antler horns! (this is not from my love of scott empires rivendell shut up) she keeps the antlers! and they have actual deer antler stuff! like they will just randomly fall off! and they will be super velvety when they regrow! the image of the soft velvet falling away to reveal like glowing holy crystal underneath is a sick af image and also its horrifically gorey looking cause the velvet has alot of blood vessels in it, i dont think its painful? it just looks like a horror movie lmao

I have some stupid ideas around both Wild and Flora having adhd, in the sense that Wild had the inattentive type and Flora the hyperactive type before everything, Wild being a knight spaces out very easily, is terrible with organizing his personal quarters, boredom is a mind killer and find focus on instructions and tasks near impossible, Flora as the princess with the weight of the world on her shoulders struggles with fidgeting and standing still, being impatient and acting out of turn, by 17 she had social rules all but beaten into her and is kind of living in a personally design hell, but after Wild comes out of the Shrine of Resurrection and after Flora wakes up from the 100 years of sealing Ganon and the millennia being a Dragon, they both now have the combined type lmao, being trapped for so long outside of time has made focus for Flora hard and fucked with her attention span, she also now spaces out alot, i think it would also have the exact opposite effect, and she would seek out excitement and desperately avoid boredom and quiet

I also think shes got echolalia! her stims are mainly vocal and she will absently repeat fun phrases she hears, Purah is a terrible person for her to hang out with because of it, she has called Wild 'Linky' without realising multiple times and he doesn't have the heart to tell her About Purah, her and Flora get on like a house on fire and its terrible for everyone around them

I personally love some exploration of botw/totk and the power/wisdom/courage goops, i'd think flora would put alot of research into the blue shiekah energy and canonically she was looking into the malice/gloom, i'd love her looking into the green Zonai energy and the purification chamber that mummydorf was being used as a battery in and the conversion between the 3 goops (i need to stop or i will start ranting about gods and divinity speculation again) all this to bring up the fun images in my head of her using the glowy blue water in like attacks and animations an stuff like Wilds ascend, if you've seen the kda more music video the little glowy finger trails would be cool for her or even like full steam punk mechanical stuff with tubes full of the stuff, considering that the blue stuff stores information and how she uses her own tears as a dragon to store her memories a collaboration with the Zora and Sidon specifically who can control water to make a more robust storage system that cant be destroyed in a calamity style cataclysm would be cool, like Monomon's archives in Hollow Knight if you know of that, you could even crystalize it to be like the Zora history tables?

I really like the idea of Zelda needing like reading glasses? maybe some lingering weirdness from the dragon eyes or she just reads too much, she has a pair of glasses she doesn't wear very often for reading and for looking at small machinery components, maybe some form of prescription goggles made by Purah? I think she probably has needed them for a long time but only actually started using them recently, i think shes a thin wire frame with smaller rectangular ish lenses kinda gal, very perched low on her nose while sitting reading in bed

I'm going to force myself to stop here cause if i don't this will forever sit in my drafts as i think of new things to add to it

[emeritus-fuckers]

What's my role in the Ministry? - Jez

(Guess Nyx and I are gonna do all the events for lols)

1. Would you say you're more likely to be a Sibling of Sin or a Ghoul? Why?

Ghoul, probably. I can't focus for shit. I get distracted all the time. ADHD really do be hitting hard.

2. Which Papa would you prefer to work with? Why? (Sister Imperator is included)

I feel like Primo is the only one who could actually keep me focused somehow. Secondo would probably leave me to do my thing, Terzo would join in on the chaos, Nihil would shit himself and Seestor just seems like a very scary person to work under (her expectations would be high af). And if I worked for Copia, I'd just pine for him all day. Also, working with Primo would probably help with my daddy issues because that man's existence just screams out father figure.

3. Are you an introvert, ambivert or an extrovert? Tell us a bit more about it.

I'm an introvert, but I've trained myself to act extroverted enough to fool most people. It does, however, result in a need of a day where I just lay there and exist, not interacting with anyone.

4. What chore do you like the most/hate the least?

Thanks to my summer job, I've actually started doing some gardening and it's honestly pretty fun! I also really like doing paper work and stuff like that.

5. Do you like to travel, or maybe you prefer to stay at home?

Unless it's somewhere I really wanna go, I'm staying home. While I enjoy the process of travelling (I like taking trains), I hate everything that comes with it (packing, unpacking, the general hurry) because I suck at organizing stuff like that. I always end up packing too much. Also I'm very anxious about travelling alone.

6. Freebie. You've got five sentences to tell us anything you want about you.

I know way too much about butterflies compared to a regular person. Apparently I've got a thing for Satanist musicians since before Ghost I used to have a thing for Murdoc Niccals (I wouldn't hesitate to beat his ass, though). I work way better when there's music in the background, it helps me focus, especially if there are certain songs/artists I associate with a certain task. I literally squeal when I see fanart of soft tummies (usually Copia's, but recently I was sent one of König and I almost screamed). I stim vocally whenever I do one thing for too long, I need to be kept occupied.

[forgotmyzoloft]

Stimming hard af in this aisle