#wipe stim

[the-leech-lord]

🦎Willie Stimboard🦎

👽👽👽|👽👽👽|👽👽👽

[yearning-gay]

also i should like just grind against my dildo even if im not wild abt penetration it has a nice texture for that and for all i care that counts as using it

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

LET THE MADNESS CONSUME ME!!!

spader: they did a big spell earlier larry: are they just excited cuz it went well, or-- spader: It Unlocked The Madness

blaine: yeah like when spader does a big spell and has to go sob in his room for an hour

[hazeltailofficial]

VALENTINE'S DAY FLASHBACK

Global Beauty Care Sensitive Skin Makeup Remover Towelettes

hazeltail on youtube / hazeltailofficial on tiktok / hazeltailofficial on ig / @hazeltailofficial

[jakeabel]

girl i think i really do have adhd

[adi06lena]

Y’all the way I’m fantasizing about baking with my crush 😭

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed’s sensory-seeking here

I'm thinking this morning about how at the start of the show, Ed hasn't just barred himself emotionally from the "fine things" he thinks he's not allowed to have, he's also barred himself from them physically.

Ed is so convinced when we first meet him that some things he wants just aren't meant for him. He's got more treasure than he knows what to do with, and he's never used it to indulge in things we know he enjoys, even such simple things as good food. He's delighted by books and soft fabrics and nail polish, but he never actually indulges in them until it feels like Stede has given him permission.

And it's so heartbreaking that, in the process of cutivating an image of hyper-masculinity for himself that will keep him safe, he's also made it hader for him to enjoy these things on a purely physical level. Ed's a very touchy person, but he's always wearing gloves in s1 so the most physical touch he ever really gets is his fingertips.

The moment that always gets me is when he lifts Stede's cashmere scarf to his cheek to feel it against his skin. It's such a genuine, earnest little moment of pleasure, and he keeps himself so covered up and removed form the things he likes that it's no doubt the first time he's felt a gentle touch on his face in forever.

And the way his beard cuts him off from emotion, too - With his big beard taking up most of his face, Ed's emotions would be harder to read if it weren't for his massive baby cow eyes. We know in s2 that he's really a very expressive person and shows a lot on his face pretty much all the time, so it's not hard to connect the dots between this young pirate who knew he'd get made fun of for his pretty face and his big emotions, so he grew the beard to cover it up.

It's like he's been denying himself his simple humanity for so, so long.

[space-station-nursery]

◜ 🎒𓂃 Regression backpack ideas! ‧ ◞

⁺　　◍ 　 . 　 ⁺　　☆　　⁺ 　 . 　 ◍　　⁺

Regressing or staying small while in public can be hard, but consider some of these items to carry with you!

⁺　　◍ 　 . 　 ⁺　　☆　　⁺ 　 . 　 ◍　　⁺

⧼ 1 ⧽ Toys/Stim toys ⧼ 2 ⧽ A small or normal sized comfort stuffie [if it fits!] ⧼ 3 ⧽ Chew toys/Chew jewlery ⧼ 4 ⧽ Small bags of snacks like dry cereal, chips, crackers etc ⧼ 5 ⧽ A Water bottle! For regressors, I recommend bottles that have a sippy straw DO NOT RE-WRITE OR POST AS OWN ⧼ 6 ⧽ Baby/Hand wipes, Band-Aids, Kleenex and sanitizer! ⧼ 7 ⧽ A small coloring book and crayons/markers ⧼ 8 ⧽ A cozy sweater if you're going somewhere cold and its not winter ⧼ 9 ⧽ headphones! Whether they be ones for music or noise cancelling ones ⧼ 10 ⧽ Any medication you may need [if necessary!] but also things like Tylenol, Advil or allergy medicine

⁺　　◍ 　 . 　 ⁺　　☆　　⁺ 　 . 　 ◍　　⁺

18+ Blogs|| AB!DL|| DD!LG|| Over age 26 (27+) || Do not interact

Fact OTD: Rabbits cannot vomit! The smooth musculature of the esophagus allows movement only in one direction. Knowing this is very important, because it demonstrates the need for a balanced diet.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Dress Up || Alexia Putellas

warnings : smut (18+), vibrators, strap-ons, cunnilingus, e-stim, aftercare, bottom alexia.

summary : alexia bumps into you at a party and in exchange for ruining your shirt, you give her a night of multiple orgasms that she won't forget.

The smell of smoke and alcohol was sure to stick to your costume when the party was over. The team Halloween masquerade party was in full force and the girls didn’t disappoint with their costumes.

There were appetizers that filled the dining table as well as waiters walking around with champagne and small bites of food, most of which looked appetizing to the captain. A chocolate fountain that was quite occupied was on the end of the table; Alexia was sure that she caught someone that looked like Mapi sticking her tongue under the flow a few times.

Giggling at a tall Norwegian looking woman scolding the chocolate-covered Spaniard, Alexia stepped into the bar area to grab herself a drink. Patri was in a corner of the bar, snuggled up next to a girl that Alexia didn’t recognize. Smiling, she pointed to the bottle of Pinot Noir, examining the brand and year before nodding satisfactorily and watching the bartender pour her a glass. Alexia sauntered back into the party with her little glass of liquid courage, looking around for a frame that she hoped would fulfil her plans for the night.

Turning the corner into the bathrooms for a quick little touchup, Alexia accidentally bumps into a broad chest that gets red wine spilt all over their costume. The tight white shirt that did nothing to hide the pierced nipples underneath a tight leather jacket lead Alexia’s eye down to the leather pants that were tighter than she’d seen you wear before. Alexia’s eyes widen in shock as she takes in the sight of you in front of her. 

“Hello to you too babygirl,” you greet, pulling Alexia into the bathroom. She grabs a handful of tissues and begins to wipe you down, lips muttering her apologies a mile a minute.

“I’m sorry Amor, I was being stupid, I didn’t see you!” Alexia whines, grabbing more tissues to wipe your shirt with. You lean in and peck her lips, watching her calm down. You pull your jacket off and watch your girlfriend’s eyes light up.

The sleeveless see-through top did nothing to hide the fact you didn’t have a bra on. The ripple in your muscles as the leather slipped off your shoulders sent shivers down Alexia’s spine. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off, toned stomach giving Alexia nothing and everything at the same time.

Her hand trails down your chest bone slowly, eyes slowly getting darker and darker. You pull your jacket back on and the black on your skin makes you almost glow. The jacket gives just enough coverage but anyone with eyes could see that you were certainly making a statement.

Your fingers hook on the belt loops of Alexia’s mini skirt, pulling her into your arms. She smiles shyly, wrapping her arms around your neck. You kiss her and she giggles into the kiss, hand softly cradling your head as you deepen the kiss.

She pulls away when you sigh into the kiss, smiling to herself as a little blush comes across her cheeks.

“You look stunning,” she compliments, adjusting your jacket. You grab your wine-stained shirt and turn her around, slipping the end into her skirt in the back.  

“Thank you baby,” you tell her, pecking her cheek. “Meet me on the dancefloor in five? I’ll get you another glass of Pinot.”

She nods and is about to turn the handle of the door when you speak up.

“Wait,” you growl, reaching into your back pocket. You hand Alexia a box.

“Have fun. See you soon, beautiful.”

You turn the knob and disappear in a flash, leaving Alexia to her own devices. She locks the door before looking at what you left for her. She pulls a face of shame and pure delight, eyes scanning the Bluetooth vibrator that you gave her.

“Enjoy,” was what was written on a note in the box. Alexia threw her head back and cursed you just a little, feeling the weight of the toy in her hands. She hiked her skirt up and dropped her panties (your favorite red lacy ones) and gave her clit a few soft rubs. She sighed and threw her head back, feeling her arousal soak her folds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she whispers underneath her breath, gently pushing the toy inside herself. She huffs, feeling the silicone settle inside her as she stands to her feet. One quick once-over in the mirror before stepping out into the party again. She saunters over to the dancefloor where she sees Mapi and Ingrid having the time of their life, Jana and Jill hunkered down in the quiet corner dancing slowly by themselves, and you holding her fresh glass of wine and a crystal half full of whiskey.

She reaches out for the glass of wine, taking a little sip before turning around to press her back against your chest. The mood in the room shifts and the music slows down, a tonal jazz beat fills the room and most couples leave no room between them.

Your free hand comes around Alexia’s middle, pulling her closer to you. She rests her palm on top of yours and sways with you, tuning out everyone else in the room as she becomes hyper-focused on you.

For a moment, she forgets about the toy inside her.

You down your whiskey in one shot, placing the glass on a table near you. Your hand now joins the other around her waist, gently guiding the captain in a little dance of your own. She melts into your arms, eyes closed as your cold fingers leave a lasting sting on her sliver of exposed skin.

Her glass was empty by the end of the song, now left beside yours on the same table.

One hand disappears from on top of hers and she thinks you’re pulling away before there’s a jolt and she does not expect it.

You turned the toy on for just a second to see her reaction and it did not disappoint. Alexia yelps and you manage to play it off as if you step on her toes. No one seems to pay much attention and the party goes on without you two, before Alexia is abruptly turned into your arms to face you. Your arm rests on the small of her back and you press yourself closer to her. The remote in your pocket you hold with the other, gently going through the stages. 

Alexia has her hands around your neck for stability, trying her best to keep her legs from giving out. You turn it to medium and hold her waist, dancing slowly along to the music. Alexia kisses you to keep her moans in, the toy vibrating intensely inside her. You groan when she slips her tongue into your mouth, pulling her closer against you. She feels her orgasm begin to sneak up on her and somehow you do too, reaching into your pocket to turn it up.

Alexia whines in your neck, catching herself before she fell to the ground in pleasure. Thankfully the dance floor was packing up and the lights were lower, no one saw the captain’s eyes roll into her head as her orgasm ripped through her. She kissed you hotly and you moan into her mouth, pulling away to see the feral look in her eyes.

“Fuck me right now or we’re going to have problems.”

You grin and nod, taking her hand and heading to the elevators. Once inside, Alexia can’t keep her hands to herself, reaching out to pull you into her arms. She kisses you hard, pressing you tight against the wall. Her hands are cold as they slither around your middle, the coldness of her hands sends shivers down your spine as the warmth of your skin prickles underneath her touch.

Alexia fumbles with your tight pants, unbuttoning it in a hurry to get to you. You stabilize yourself by holding the handles along the wall, watching as the number on the screen of the elevator gets closer and closer to your designated floor. She dips her head down to suck on your perked nipples, the metal bars on them allow her to tug them with her teeth. You moan, gripping the handrails tightly as her tongue slowly begins to swirl around your nipple.

The elevator dings and you rush out of there fast. Alexia pulls your jacket off your shoulders from behind as you fumble with the keycard. You drag her inside and are all over her, after slipping the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob.

Alexia whimpers when you push her onto the plush bed. Her eyes sparkle as, for the first time tonight, you notice the glittery eyeshadow she had on. You stand tall and admire her, watching as she slowly takes her tank top off to reveal your favorite lingerie set.

Suddenly remembering the toy that she had inside her (admittedly you caught a glimpse of it as she opened her legs a little in an attempt to tease you), you reach into your back pocket and pull the remote out. Pressing the number two on it, you watched as your girlfriend went from smug to a mess in mere seconds. Alexia moaned as her legs closed on themselves, feeling the intense vibrations in her core.

“Amor…” she moaned, laying back on the bed in an attempt to calm herself down. You turned the vibrations down to one and get on top of her, slowly taking her mini skirt off. Kissing down her middle, she squirms underneath you as the sensations start to build up.

“Sí princesa?” you coo, rough hands caressing her smooth thighs.

“Need you…” she whimpers, fingers playing with her clothed core. The smooth silk of her lingerie was soaked as you watched her play with herself. Alexia momentarily forgot you were there, bending her legs wide open as she gently pushed her panties off to the side to touch herself properly.

“Looks like you’re all settled in with yourself, don’t think you need me darling.”

“No!” she yelps, “no, need you amor, can’t do it myself.”

“What do you need, mi reina?”

“Need your cock inside me,” she whines, pouting softly. In a stroke of genius, she lifts her pruning fingers to her mouth for a little taste. She watches as your eyes follow her hand in her mouth and you sigh, blinking softly with a smirk on your face. You turn the vibrator back up to two and lean in, grabbing her chin softly.

“I want you bent over with your ass up by the time a get back, understood?”

She nods, eyes fluttering as your thumb pushes gently into her mouth. She sucks for a second and whines when you pull away, watching as you disappear into the en suite closet and bathroom.

Alexia touches herself a little more as she hears you fiddling in the bathroom. Her pussy is soaked and she’s on edge, the vibrator inside was not enough but overwhelming at the same time. She slowly turned onto her stomach, pushing her knees up to arch her back on the bed. She made sure to give you a nice deep arch, settling herself comfortably before hearing you come back into the room again.

“Fuck, you look so gorgeous like that princesa,” you praise, hands caressing her ass as you come up behind her. Your fingers graze over her clothed pussy, all four fingers rubbing at her cold, soaked cunt.

Alexia moaned as you touched her, fingers pressing just right to move the vibrator that was inside her to press on her sweet spot. You leaned down and bit her ass, gently pulling her underwear to the side to retrieve your toy. Alexia gasped as it was pulled out of her, relief washing over her that did not last long.

You reached for the remote and turned it all the way up to five, pressing it right on her throbbing clit. Alexia cried out and couldn’t hold back her brewing orgasm, trembling violently as her second but not last orgasm ripped through her lean frame.

Alexia whimpered into the mattress for you to stop, thighs shaking uncontrollably until you pulled away. Turning the toy off and giving it a rest, you crawled onto the bed facing Alexia. Your cock hung right in front of her face, the semi-hard silicone was tantalizing to say the least. Alexia reached for you, lips wrapping around your cock slowly as she maintained eye contact. You watched as she sucked earnestly, eyes rolling into the back of her head when you thrusted forwards into her mouth.

You gathered her hair into a ponytail, thrusting your hips forward as she gently grasped your thighs for support. She gagged and sputtered all over your cock, gasping for air as you pulled away from her gently. You cupped her face and kissed her passionately, feeling her hand wrap around your cock to lather her spit all over.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” you ask, watching carefully as Alexia turned around to push herself back onto her knees. Her back arched deep, ass pushed out just how you liked.

“Only the best for you,” she says sexily, looking over her shoulder. You grin and nod, reaching for her hips. You press yourself into her, filling her glistening core. Alexia moans, gripping the sheets tight as you fuck into her hard.

Your nails dig into her hips, pulling her back onto your cock. Alexia does nothing to hide her pleasure, moaning loudly in pleasure. You spank her ass, fucking into her deeper. You hike a leg up, giving yourself a little more leverage to fuck into her with purpose.

She wet and sensitive, feeling her third orgasm of the night creep up on her. Suddenly, she hears the vibrator turn back on and feels it press right up against her clit again.

Her mind goes numb with pleasure, orgasm rippling through her hard and fast. She whines and whimpers, lips chattering as she tries her hardest to moan your name.

You pull her up against your chest, hips unwavering as you pound into her way past her orgasm. Tears run down her face as the sensitivity fades and pleasure takes over once more.

“Feels good amor? Is this how you planned to spend your Halloween?”

“Sí! Sí, por favor!” Alexia moaned, reaching back to hold onto you. She could feel that familiar tug behind her navel as you fucked her fourth orgasm out of her. At this point, Alexia was past being coherent in her awareness. She wanted to come, and there was nothing that was going to stop her.

You suddenly stopped thrusting into her, much to her annoyance. You pulled away, slipping out of her dripping hole swiftly. Alexia turned onto her back, ready to rip you another on but you rummaged in your duffel bag, grabbing a long baton-like device. Alexia stared at it curiously, wondering what you had up your sleeve.

Alexia sat up in bed, watching curiously as you sat in front of her. You gave her a glass of water that she was grateful for, making sure that she finished half the glass. She handed it back to you and you finished the rest and put the glass back on the side table.

“What’s that?” she asked, rubbing your thighs gently.

“E-Stim,” you tell her, demonstrating what the baton did on your own skin. She heard the little crack of electricity and it certainly did pique her interest.

“You wanna try it?” you ask, turning the dial down to the lowest setting. “You tell me if you don’t like it and we’ll not use it okay? I’ve got the receipt to return it!”

Alexia laughs at you, nodding gently as you press it gently on her skin. She jolts and you pull away but she looks up at you with a smile.

“¿Estuvo bien?”

She nods.

“Words, princesa.”

“Sí, it was okay,” she mutters. “More than okay.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss her. Alexia smiles into the kiss, laying back gently. You kiss down her chest to her dripping core. You moan as your tongue licks over her folds. Your tongue circles over her clit and she’s got her hands in your hair, grinding her hips into your mouth. Your teeth nibble her clit gently as you push your fingers into her to scissor her open. Three fingers thrust in and out of her with ease, soaking them thoroughly.

You get on top of her and lather some of her never-ending slick on your cock to wet it again. It slips in smoothly, allowing you to get back into fucking her with ease.

You speed your hips up considerably, pounding into her harder and faster. Alexia is back to moaning loudly without a care in the world, holding her legs open as you turn the e-stim stick up a notch. You sting her thigh and the electricity sends a shock straight to her core, thrusting her closer to her fourth orgasm of the night. Alexia looks you in the eye, jaw wide open as she moans her approval.

“Want a little stronger, ¿Cariño?”  

“Please!”

You turn the dial up to three, leaning back to pound into her faster. You sting her stomach this time, just under her belly button. Alexia jolts, abs tightening as her orgasm begins to bubble.

“You wanna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes!”

“Come,” you growl in her ear, sending one last sting just above Alexia’s clit. She comes so hard she passes out for a few seconds before regaining consciousness, still impaled on your cock. You fuck her awake and she comes for a solid 30 seconds before you stop.

You lean down and kiss her passionately, pulling out slowly. She’s sensitive and sore, so you grab another bottle of cold water from the mini fridge and gently help her drink it. She gratefully kisses your cheek as you leave her to grab a warm washcloth, wiping her clean.

She starts to whine for you when you leave to rinse the cloth, crawling back into bed to cuddle with the captain.

“Was that good?” you ask, cradling your girlfriend close to you as she scrolls through Netflix.

Alexia nods and turns her head to kiss you, giving you a long and slow kiss that rounded off your night perfectly.

"I'd spill wine all over your outfit one more time if it meant you fucked me like that again."

"Don't tempt me, princesa."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Make Friends 1/4 (Word count 5.4 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: AU where König (sadly) isn't a colonel and doesn't have a t-shirt as a hood but an... actual hood. Please heed the tags lovelies ����

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

No one sees a cleaning lady.

Cleaners are invisible. People remember them only when their desks start to gather dust, when their floors are full of mud. No one sees her except the tallest guy in the building: the guy who everybody seems to ignore, just like they ignore her.

It doesn't take long to see why. He's different, and not just because of the mask he's wearing.

She sees him playing with knives. He throws them in the air leisurely, catches them by the handle, and never misses the catch. He flicks them from side to side, spins and whirls the blades in motions she can't even see because they're so swift.

It's pure magic. And they're not dull training knives; they're sharp as a razor, vicious, tactical – but that doesn't make them ugly. They're quite stunning, and she's caught staring more than once.

His movements are not what she'd exactly call precise and fluid. They're urgent, antsy, made to relieve stress of some sort. He's stimming with the knives. Alleviating pain or frustration. The rest of his body is still; only the ice-blue eyes flicker on the blade as he focuses all his attention on the dance. Sometimes he just stares at them, turns them around as if checking the edge, as if it wasn't evident that they're deadly and sharp. That's how she knows he takes good care of the things he loves.

He's fascinated by them, just like she is. And it's not just the knives; she's fascinated by him.

Others cast side eyes, nervous looks at him. Even some of his fellow operators look at the man like he's a lunatic. And perhaps he is, but she can't help it.

She's mesmerized.

It all changes when she accidentally walks into a meeting room while there is a briefing going on. Apparently, no one considers her a threat or a potential spy because she is summoned in before she rushes to close the door, and so she goes on about her day while the soldiers are already wrapping things up.

The hooded giant is there too, leaning back in a chair too small for him, this time playing with a butterfly knife. It's the smallest, daintiest thing she has yet seen in those hands. He always has gloves on, but that doesn't make the flashy flipping look any less dangerous.

She starts by dusting the side tables so she is not in the way. This time, she vehemently does not want to be seen. Save perhaps by the knife maniac.

The man even helps her with cleaning: he picks up some of the objects he can reach so she can wipe the surface more easily. It makes her cheeks grow hot, but she cannot bring herself to thank him. She doesn't dare to make a single sound while there is a meeting going on and their captain is still speaking, but she gives her thanks through her eyes and her smile, and the man looks at her like she's some kind of saintly sight.

The look in those blue eyes is starstruck. Almost… obsessive.

It should send ice to her stomach. But it doesn't.

He continues showing off with the knife as she moves to the other side of the room. He does it to mess with her head or entertain her, delight her, perhaps - the man already knows she’s intrigued by his vast collection of blades.

It's a bit creepy. The man as a whole is a bit creepy, but she only feels a rush, a high that turns her monotonous work day into a thrill.

"König. Would you mind?"

The sound of the flicking blade stops, and she is possibly the only one in this room who misses the noise.

"Entschuldigung."

He speaks, and the voice sends ripples across her scalp. It's twisted and amused, as if the man gets off on annoying the shit out of his workmates.

"English, please..."

"My apologies."

The blade is tucked somewhere in his pocket and the man named König leans forward on the table. Slightly hunched over like that, he looks even more intimidating than before. The playfulness is gone, and he looks fiercely professional. More shivers are sent down her spine.

König…

König is the reason she still keeps working in this odd little compound, the base of some special operations unit that requires an insane amount of security checks and secret contracts and confidentiality agreements just so she can clean the floors from their soddy footprints.

König is the reason she starts to put on some mascara in the morning, tie her hair in a high ponytail, or braid it in two little braids so she would appear cuter if she happens to pass him by in the hallway. He's the reason she opens not one but two buttons of her blouse before she starts the day. He's also the reason her underwear is soaked in the middle of a boring shift.

He appears in her break room to borrow coffee. And not once, but twice during the same week.

"You're running low again?"

"Eh… Ja."

He's shit at lying, though. She is relatively sure by now that he's here only because he wants to see her.

"I'll bring it back. I mean–I'll buy you some."

He seems a bit shy, like her, and combined with the fact that he still chooses to seek her out already gives her sleepless nights. It makes her far more confident than she has ever been with people.

His accent, his voice, are pure fire. She feels sinful for thinking about how he would behave in the bedroom, how he would talk – after all, it already sounds like he's breathless and strained, already sounds like he's working her open with whatever monster is hidden in those pants a bit too small for him. He walks with a wide lounge, and she just knows it's because he is so big down there.

"You do that," she gives him a particularly flirty smile and revels in how it makes him even more distraught. It's quite fascinating how the same man can exude barely repressed bloodlust one moment and stupefied silence the next.

He returns the very next day to bring her a package of coffee. The same brand he borrowed twice already is set on the table in front of her with tense shoulders. She has seen the man relaxed only when he’s achieved that alluring flow state with his knives.

"Hier."

"Why thank you."

He simply stands there, switches weight from one foot to the other, and shrugs.

"I'll be going then."

But he doesn’t leave. Not right away. He watches her with that icy, burning stare, and she cocks her head.

“Bye,” she chimes with a soft smile – the guy is simply too cute. His restless twitching stops; he freezes where he stands, blinks – and then turns and walks out the door like a robot.

. . . . .

She's not supposed to be here. Or, she is, but he's not.

No one’s supposed to be here when there's the sign on the door. The men's showers are supposed to be cleared once a week for good scrubbing, and she only has 30 minutes to do that. It's once a week, less than an hour, there's a sign, and still, some jerk has to walk right through it.

No one sees a cleaning lady.

No one appears to even care about the fucking sign.

But then she sees who exactly has disrespected her humble position. It's a shock to see that familiar black hood with two eye holes on it thrown on the bench. Next to that, the khaki-colored cargo pants, a black shirt, and those gloves, all in a heap – this guy is not the most orderly, perhaps.

And she takes a fucking peek inside the showers because the door is, for some unfathomable reason, transparent, see-through glass.

The first thing she sees is muscle. Just wet, powerful cords of muscle slapped on the tallest man she has ever seen or would probably ever see.

He's a vision: godly, almost. Then she notices what he's doing.

Of course he has to be fucking fapping on top of everything.

Her throat is dry and her hands are numb as she watches how he leans on the tiles with one hand and works himself with the other. The body hair on the guy is so pale that he basically looks neatly shaved, save for the short hair on the top of his head – the man's nothing but sleek, dripping muscle through and through.

He sounds weak when he's masturbating; the noise that echoes in the showers consists mainly of frail, high-pitched grunts.

She's wet in no time, and it doesn't help that he looks frantic, almost violent, while jerking off. It's a sloppy frenzy, and the sounds of wet, angry slapping make her heart beat so fast that the rush of blood in her ears nearly drowns the noise.

The man has big hands, but his cock still looks massive inside one. She knows she will copy-paste the image of that long cock, slick with water and soap, in her mind over and over again while releasing some tension herself. Of course it's big because he's big, but the length of it is simply outrageous – she cannot comprehend how he can fit himself in his pants, even when soft.

His whole upper body tenses abruptly, like a huge cord of cable; he throws his head back, his hips jerk forward and he goes catatonic – the cum shot that follows would shoot a meter away if it wasn't stopped by the wall. The spurts of his load are equally as fierce as the fap, and she feels faint.

And why the fuck is she even standing here in the first place?

And then he…

He drops his head, turns a little to the side, like he’s known she has been here the whole time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

She can only see his eyes from behind the arm still leaning on the wall. That heated glare is not furious, but nor is it benevolent: it's simply pure, manic lust.

She turns and rushes from the locker room like she has just seen a monster.

. . . . .

"Hey."

If he's here for coffee or for her, she doesn't know. Or, perhaps she does, but she's also so unbelievably ashamed and embarrassed that perhaps it's no surprise that he seeks her out in the break room since she has avoided him everywhere else for two days.

"Hi."

Her weak voice is followed by silence, and she doesn't turn, even when she knows he's still behind her. Something in the air, some part of atavistic instinct tells her he's standing right behind her.

"You here for more coffee?"

He still doesn't say anything, and she begins to freak out.

"König… I'm–God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have–"

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her heart shoots up her throat, and her stomach churns, almost starts to eat itself from the pure terror. But it's nothing compared to what he says next.

"I was thinking of you," the calm voice reaches her ears like a tall wave, making her even more woozy than she was in the men's showers.

"I'm– sorry, what?"

"Your mouth… Breasts. If you're tight."

She finally turns, doesn't even try to conceal her horror tinged with incomprehensible, strange lust.

"Jesus…"

The ice between them is broken, but at what cost – and the anxiety she had mistaken for cuteness reveals something psychotic underneath. He still looks at her with the same stare, even when she tries to make it clear that this approach makes her want to vomit. He doesn't move, only towers over her like a hulking shade, and she darts from the break room, completely soaked and on the verge of tears.

. . . . .

There's a knock on her door the next morning, so early that she wonders who the hell could be up at this hour other than staff. It's like… five-thirty. She's so sleepy that she doesn't quite think it through as she throws only a t-shirt on before strolling to the door.

What the f-

König shoves the flowers almost in her face as she opens the door, and she has to yank her head back. All the sleep is gone in an instant, and she curses in her mind that she's standing here in only a tight t-shirt and a black pair of panties.

"I'm sorry. Please, accept my apology," he says like a poorly rehearsed actor while watching her thighs and what's between them. Her nipples shoot up, and not from cold.

"Uh… sure," she tries to sound neutral while accepting the flowers, if not his apology. He takes a step back after making sure she has truly taken the gift, and she instinctively lowers the bouquet down to shield herself from his searing gaze. She knows she's a hypocrite, having masturbated at the memory of him last night. Twice.

He has his hood on, and wears the eternal black shirt, padded gloves and some cargo pants, but there’s also an overload of gear on him. Pouches and pads and wires and ammo - she even catches a grenade or two. There’s a gun strapped to his thigh, and the shoulder pads make his already broad shoulders look even more wide. He looks so… tactical, so in his element that her instincts tell her it wouldn’t do shit to slam the door in his face and retreat back to the safety of her room. This soldier would just barge through the plywood.

And where did this guy get flowers at this hour of the day? No florist can possibly be open. Then she notices they're not exactly the kind of flowers she has seen at a shop.

Has he picked them from outside…?

"I thought you liked me."

His explanation makes her heart melt a little. He's so straightforward, so utterly without any charades or roles, that it makes her feel like she's the one who has disrespected him with her games. After all, she has done nothing but flirted 24/7 with the poor man for the last week. Of course he only thought she was interested.

"I do. I do like you."

His eyes light up with uncontained hunger. "Can I come in?"

Nope. Big mistake.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ok. I'll be going then."

He turns on his heels and is ready to go like nothing ever happened.

“Wha-… König, please, wait.”

He halts on command, turns back, looks at her solemnly. The only thing that gives his confusion away are his eyes, which flicker from her puzzled stare to her mouth, occasionally to the bouquet covering her nether areas.

"Could we just be friends?" She offers him rather desperately.

He merely shrugs.

"Never had any friends."

For some reason, this guy has already started to live rent-free inside her head. She simply can't get him out. And she's intrigued, even when the sanest option would be to stay away from a creepy lunatic like him.

"I can be your friend."

Fuck, what did I just say, what the fuck did I just–

"Sure. Why not," he says immediately. "You just want to be friends?"

She resists the urge to facepalm right then and there in front of him. The guy is not only socially awkward: he's in a state of denial.

Some of his friends – or at least, teammates – pass them by. Kyle, if she remembers correctly, and a Scottish man they call Soap. They both smile at her kindly. It's the first time these men have ever paid her any attention; actually, this is probably the only occasion anyone pays attention to König either. They are both suddenly visible.

"Hey König, don't go harassing our cleaning lady. We got a plane to catch."

König stares somewhere behind her as Soap speaks. His eyes are covered with glass, and she knows that look all too well. The tallest man in the building is dissociating while the two soldiers march by behind him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips: a mocking gesture only she can see.

She watches the scene with an odd pity. It appears they step into existence only when they're together – an unfamiliar setting and an odd couple, the object of ridicule for people who probably claim themselves to be normal.

"I think it would be best, yes," she whispers when the hall is quiet again. She has to start her day soon, and he has a plane to catch - no one else is awake except one hard-working woman and a few operators about to leave on an early mission. She feels the strangest sorrow as she realizes that he wanted to drop by with some flowers and his apology before leaving some place he might never return.

The man gives her a last once-over before taking his leave. He nods slowly, never breaking their gaze: an odd, gentlemanly move.

"Just friends, then."

. . . . .

It is the hottest day yet, and the guy walks around with his black hood even then.

Her new friend.

She's outside, trying to catch some fresh air and sunlight after spending another 8 hours inside a buzzing facility, and somehow, some way, the tall enigma of a man always finds her.

He angles his walk towards her as if he only happened to pass by at the same time she was lounging against the wall and looking at clouds drifting in the sky. In truth, she has an odd, yawning suspicion that she is being stalked nowadays. One of her underwear has gone missing, and she's wretched because her first thought upon finding it gone was the solid assumption that he had stolen them. Which further meant that the man had broken into her room.

But there's also flowers. Every morning when she opens her door, there's a single flower awaiting her. Sometimes, two or three, and not from a store, but from outside, from nature.

He's courting her, and she feels stupidly like a little princess because of those homely yet thoughtful gifts. She doesn't throw them away: they gather on her table, on her window sill, in a little water glass on her bedside table.

She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

"How are you?"

His accent lingers in the air between them, and she can't help it: it always brings a rush of heat on her cheeks and a rush of wetness down below when she hears him speak.

"I'm good. Just… good. How about you?"

"Sehr gut."

Perhaps the underwear has simply gone missing while washing laundry: it's not unusual when at least 20 people share one washing machine.

And they're only friends. Friends don't steal each other's underwear. Friends ask how they have been, how their day's gone.

"You look nice."

But the summer sun pales in comparison with the heat of that stare. Friends might compliment each other, but they don't look at each other like that.

She feels grungy enough while cleaning, not to mention in the bland, saggy clothes she has to wear every morning, so it can't be a surprise that she likes to put on an effort after the day is done. The citrus-yellow dress she has this afternoon catches his attention like she's a whole circus in town.

"You always look like an angel," he elaborates further, and she has to prevent herself from taking support from the wall upon hearing his compliment.

"Oh.. Thanks," she smiles, and he answers it: the faint creases around narrowing eyes are enough proof of that. "It's so hot… Do you ever take the hood off?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you take it off before bed?"

Oh god.

That sounded weird. She meant to ask if he took it off before sleeping.

Well, 'before bed', 'before sleeping'… What's the difference, really?

Still, he reads into it like a hawk for a seemingly socially graceless case.

"Depends if I'm alone or not," he says. Definitely thinks she's flirting with him again. Talk about sending mixed messages…

Friends, friends. We're just friends.

"Where are you from, by the way? Are you German?"

"No. Austrian."

"Oh. It must be beautiful there at this time of year."

"It is. I would still trade all of Austria for you," he says without any clumsiness, even though the pickup line is awful, one of the worst she has heard – and god, still, those big hands, that fire and ice stare makes her feel high as a kite. The image of him plowing her with the same pace he fucked his hand won't leave her alone.

"König… Just friends," she warns while feeling how another pair of panties is already ruined. She's so wet it's not even funny anymore; it makes her annoyed.

"Ok."

He says ok, but she knows he won't yield. She’s been far too kind for far too long and won't be losing this guy's interest anytime soon.

"How's work?" She tries to patiently show him how to be fricking friends, even if one party is constantly undressing the other with their eyes. As if she's not doing the same…

"You really want to know?"

"Sure."

"Had to scrub intestines from my shoes all night," he says casually. She can only blink and watch how completely distanced and indifferent he seems about something so sick.

"Everything's a mess when you use a knife," he explains further.

"Uh... I'm sure it is."

"Do you regret that you asked?"

"No. Well, perhaps a little."

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks proud; only seems pleased with himself for succeeding in scaring her even more.

"That's why I scrub guts and you scrub floors."

"I guess so," she agrees to his ever-authentic way of saying things how they are. He's a soldier: she can’t change that fact no matter how he or she puts it. Decent guys did the exact same things he did; they just didn't go around telling shy girls about the gory details of their work.

"Do you like knives?"

Nor did they ask things like this. They would ask if she wanted to go see a movie or have a lovely dinner that would end in a kiss and an exchange of phone numbers.

"Um. Yes, I think they're beautiful."

Her response causes a short, deafening silence, a few blinks. The wind catches his mask, but it never rises: she notices he's not only undressing her body, but also her soul with those eyes. Patient, like he knows all her secrets and loves them already.

"What would it take to be more than friends?"

His sudden change of subject is almost as shocking as the devil-may-care account of his work. She is feeling unusually wild; the warm weather and the yellow hues covering the distant horizons make her want to lie down on the grass and pull him on top of her. She thinks of him sliding up the fabric of her cutesy dress, thinks of him opening his pants to get that huge cock out and force it inside.

"Well… You could… Ask me out, for starters?"

"What if you come to my room and I'll show you something," he offers instantly.

As nice and naive as she may be, she's sure the only thing he wants to show her is his cock. Which she has already seen, technically speaking. Which she would like to see again, heaven forbid.

She is slightly breathless and wonders if the heat on her cheeks is visible, if her lips are a bit fuller than usual from her thoughts. Perhaps that's why she resorts to a counteroffer as if she's bargaining here. As if she can't say no.

"Uh.. How about you come and pick me up for dinner this eve–"

"Ok."

He nods with full-blown promise in his eyes and leaves right away, a little too content, and she realizes she has made the worst mistake of her entire life. She will never get a man of his size out of her room if she lets him in and things go awry.

In a hurried decision, she decides she will simply leave him blue-balled at the door. She simply won't go to dinner; she certainly won't let him in. She doesn't have to, even if and when she has to watch him mope for the rest of the year.

She will tell him they're not friends, they're nothing anymore, and that's just it.

She goes, determined and her mind set, to shower, only to notice that she's more soaked than the pool of soap water gathering at her feet. Her body simply betrays her at every turn. Perhaps she should masturbate, just in case, so she won't be weak-willed when he arrives at her door this evening. Yes, that's a brilliant idea, one of the rare good ones she’s had these past few days.

“Jesus–"

By the time she enters her room, wet and throbbing, he's already there.

"How did you get in?"

He shrugs his shoulders like he always does.

"You asked me to visit you."

He doesn't even answer her question about him breaking into her fucking room. He's standing right next to her dresser and a bra she had thrown on one of the open drawers, and she knows right then and there that he's the panty thief.

"Yeah, but… I thought you'd knock or something."

"Sorry."

If you shrug I swear I’m going to…

"Where do you wish to go?"

He's standing there like a contrapposto statue, narrow hips deliciously tilted and with an obvious erection in his pants. He doesn't seem to feel ashamed about it, and it makes her even more wet.

She has a murderous giant in her room, a killer who's visibly turned on by the sight of her underwear, perhaps the lingering scent of her perfume, too… and he's asking where she wishes to go eat tonight so he might have a chance to bang her afterward.

"Do you like Chinese?"

He shrugs as an answer, and she sighs.

"I need to change. Could you turn around?"

The eyes behind the hood regard her with curiosity, but the man does as he is bid. She takes out a floral dress and a more comfortable bra and walks further away to the bed to change. König faces the wall while she gets undressed with trembling hands. She’s sure the man will turn around, march to her, and simply have his way with her before she gets the dress on. Some sick part of her even yearns for it.

But he doesn't. Instead, his head tilts a little to the side, and his hand rises to gently brush the lace of her bra while she's in the most vulnerable position she's ever been with this man. It's an almost equal violation of her privacy as it would've been to turn, but her tongue is tied. And she only now notices he's not wearing gloves.

König is caressing her underwear with no fabric whatsoever between his skin and her chastity, and it makes her breath grow heavy like they're living in the 18th century.

"All set," she says, voice tight, and he lowers his hand and turns as if he has done nothing wrong.

The evening, however, goes far better than she had hoped. Or feared.

He buys them dinner, drinks one beer. They even have a perfectly healthy, civil conversation. She helps herself to a bit of wine to calm her nerves, and they discuss what their dreams used to be before they landed the jobs they currently have.

He reveals he wanted to be a sniper and that he prefers to work alone, but to her question on what went wrong with all that, he merely answers he was 'too clumsy.'

What the man is really trying to say is that he's simply too big. Detectable, loud, and tall.

He hints at being bullied at school and in the army, and she feels even more sorry for him, curses in her mind – if the guy's tactic is to get a girl by being a hot loner with a tragic tale of woe, it sure is working for him.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asks when there's still tension between them, tension that should have melted by now.

"A bit, yeah."

"Is it because of the hood?"

His voice is softer, and she realizes that he's really trying: trying to tone down whatever beast rages inside him, trying his all to be normal instead of some tormented madman.

"No, not exactly," she confesses and feels a sting in her heart when he looks defeated. She almost feels like a bully, too. She wants to take the guy in her arms and shush him to sleep so he would wake up less haunted. But that's not how this goes: she cannot fix him, and even if she could, she has no right to.

He takes her back to the base and stands at her door again. The halls have fallen silent, everyone's asleep at this hour, and her heart is still hammering in her chest.

"Are we still just friends?" He stares at her from the darkness of the hood, shoulders slightly hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller. Less intimidating.

"I…I guess so."

"You think I'm weird, don't you."

His next question is more of a statement. And all she wants to say is no, even if it's a lie. The guy is… not evil; it's just that he certainly isn't sane and sound, either.

"Um… I… Uh-"

"You're the one who watched me in the showers," he points out as if they're keeping score on who's more of a perv.

"Yeah. I guess I'm the weirdo here," she laughs nervously, then almost bites her tongue. He only cocks his head a little to the side and repeats his earlier question.

"Did you like what you saw?"

"Well… yes, ok? I did. Why else would I–"

"It's ok. I understand. I don't mind."

"Well, it was still rude of me to do that." She guides her gaze to the floor, then up at his polar stare that makes her want to swoon in the hopes that he will catch her. "Didn't you notice the sign on the door?"

"I did," he said, and the corners of his eyes slowly gather a few wrinkles. Smiling again.

She shakes her head slowly, scoldingly, and notices how that smile only deepens under the hood. Then his face – or what little can be seen of it – straightens.

"Am I harassing you?"

Wow. Well, at least the poor guy is trying to self-reflect. But something tells her there's more than some new-found awareness of his late behavior at work here.

There's bitterness... Exclusion.

Loneliness.

"No," she tries to comfort him. Another facepalm moment: she is basically telling a stalker she likes being stalked. That this sort of wacko shit was approved of. So this is what it has come to… Years of being invisible apparently did things like this to people.

"Or maybe a bit," she says as a spineless afterthought.

"Do you want me to stop?"

In all honesty, she is drunk on his attention. The obsessive behavior, the relentless wooing, romantic gestures accompanied by a stare that says he wants to plow her until she is a limp heap on a bed stained with tears and cum.

"König… Are you lonely?"

He shrugs, and she wants to grab him. Shake him.

"Are you?" He says with an unusually deep voice.

"...Yes."

Her voice is as fragile as can be, but the hall echoes her confession like it's a loud song. The eyes under the hood look at her softly, longingly: she hasn't even noticed how soft they can sometimes be.

"You don't have to be."

There's simply no use in denying it: she wants this guy to fuck her, no matter how creepy or weird he is.

She grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him inside.

[insert-name-heres-things]

Happy Disability Pride Month!!!

Remember Folks:

- SELF CARE IS NUMBER ONE

- Use your spoons sparingly! Here’s some spoons to go: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

- Clean your mobility aids! (Seriously dude when was the last time you wiped that shit down with an antibacterial?)

- Accommodate yourself, as others will follow.

- Make goals within your reach and abilities

- DO YOUR COPINGS SKILLS

- Remember to stay hydrated and take your meds!

- For my fellow heat sensitive homies, stay cool this summer! A cold rag draped behind your neck, airy clothing, a small portable hand fan, keeping ice packs ready, cold water and expecially cold electrolyte drinks, all do wonders!

- For my fellow autistic folks, don’t be afraid wear earmuffs, stim, use chew charms, whatever it is that helps you regulate. You don’t have to mask if it’s something that isn’t benefitting to your life.

- POTS havin mofos like me, salt the ever loving fuck out of your food. Try different foods with salt, such as fruits and vegetables! I’m currently eating a salty tomato. Drink lots of water, I’ve been aiding gateraid packets to my water and it’s made a HUGE difference, especially as someone who hates drinking water.

- Those with PTSD for whatever reason, I wish you safety and support as you learn to cope and hopefully heal.

- I don’t know exactly what to say to others with H-EDS, as I’m still understanding this disorder other then BE CAREFUL WITH YOURSELF THIS PRIDE MONTH. I swear to god we are the most accident prone mother fuckers lmfao-

- If your immune system is all fucky like mine, keep clean and be sanitary, communicate with others that if they’re sick you can’t be around them, and wear a mask if you feel like that’s the right option for you. In my hometown I’ve gotten yelled at more than once for wearing a mask post-covid, however you can’t let someone else’s ignorance result in your own suffering.

- Don’t forget to move around and stretch! A little movement can do a lot for your body.

- Check in with your disabled friends! Try and see if there’s any way you can help one another, see where both of your strengths and weaknesses lie, and swap some spoons!!

- Be aware of what triggers your disorders. Whether if it’s caffeine triggering bipolar episodes, the weather causing fibro flares, big changes causing meltdowns, overexerting your hypermobility, whatever it is, it matters. Listen to your body and mind.

- Don’t be afraid to call out that doctor who isn’t listening, dismissing your symptoms and medically gaslighting you.

- While it may not seem like a big difference for some, trust me when I say your appetite is so important! Remember if it comes down to it, that it’s better to eat something, ANYTHING, than nothing at all. 

- To that person who might be hesitant, ashamed or might be questioning wether or not they should use a mobility aid, if it’s the difference between you being stuck at home vs going out and living some life… USE THAT MOBILITY AID!!! Same goes for braces and any other tool that may help you live a better quality of life.

- Be accepting towards those with disabilities different then your own- remember this month isn’t a competition about who’s struggling the most, rather to understand that people of physical, psychological, sensory, neurodivergence, and even undiagnosed disabilities all share one thing in common.. WHICH IS BEING DISABLED!

- Doesn’t matter who you are, how young or old, black or white, thick or thin - the disabled minority is one you can end up becoming a part of at any time, and likely will if you live long enough. Disability doesn’t discriminate, so EVERYONE should be advocating for disabled people’s rights.

- And of course, have pride in being disabled. This shit is fucking hard, but if you’re reading this, you’re doing it. Just being here today and doing what you can handle or manage, is doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t have to push yourselves to impossible lengths to be proud of yourself.

Here, have the disability pride flag:

[kodaswrld]

◜ 𓂃 agere backpack ideas! ‧ ◞

regressing or staying small while in public can be hard, but consider some of these items to carry with you!

⧼ 1 ⧽ toys/stim toys

⧼ 2 ⧽ a small or normal sized comfort stuffie [if it fits!]

⧼ 3 ⧽ chew toys/chew jewlery

⧼ 4 ⧽ small bags of snacks like dry cereal, chips, crackers etc

⧼ 5 ⧽ a water bottle! for regressors, i recommend bottles that have a sippy straw

⧼ 6 ⧽ baby/hand wipes, band-Aids, kleenex and sanitizer!

⧼ 7 ⧽ a small coloring book and crayons/markers

⧼ 8 ⧽ a cozy sweater if you're going somewhere cold and its not winter

⧼ 9 ⧽ headphones! whether they be ones for music or noise cancelling ones

⧼ 10 ⧽ any medication you may need [if necessary!] but also things like tylenol, advil or allergy medicine

reposted blog ~ credits

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[guiltyidealist]

autism loading screen tips

Did you know: You can brush your teeth at any time of the day! Try brushing for 1 minute next time you're in the bathroom.

If showers are hard for you, try wiping your body down with baby wipes instead!

Dry hands every time you wash them? Apply extra lotion to your wrists and forearms. After washing, wet your wrists and rub the lotion down your hands! Pat dry.

In a pinch, a little Icy Hot can help ground you during an episode or meltdown. Apply a little to your arm and focus on the sensation

Dysmorphia, dysphoria, or self-esteem impairing your bodily hygiene? Try bathing in dim lighting (lights off might not be safe!) to impair your body issues back!

You're literally so cool (:

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[notjustjavierpena]

dark!joel miller dbf that comforts innocent!reader when she’s feeling lonely and sad but he can’t control himself and he coerces/manipulates her into him using her to relieve himself. pet names, condescending joel, breeding kink, the works 🫶🏼

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A/N: This might be my darkest filth to date. Thanks to anon for making me explore this side… it is definitely one of my favorite things to read, so let’s see if I’m good at writing it.

Summary: Joel, your dad’s best friend, finds you in your room crying and wants to comfort you.

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

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con, pet names, innocence kink, age gap, clit stim, dirty talk, piv sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, dad’s best friend 

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48393787

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When Joel enters your parents’ house, he is surprised to find the door unlocked, but with no one inside. He calls out for your father then, moments later, your mother, before realizing that no one is going to answer.

It’s only when he is about to leave again that he notices your annoyingly cute shoes by the front door. He smiles, unaware that you would be on a visit to your hometown this weekend. It also means that he can start his search for the keys to the car that he has agreed to lend over the next couple of days. 

… but they’re nowhere to be found, and the thought of you being somewhere in the house makes a manhunt seem more fun. He could ask you, he decides, yes, a very good idea. 

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand as you hear the first knock on your door. It is a frantic movement that serves no purpose except to make your face seem even redder with how much pressure you use to remove the tear streaks as well. 

“Come in,” you say nonchalantly, turning on your spinning chair to face the door with a brave face.

Joel presses down the handle and gently pushes the door open. He sticks his head inside, “Hey sweetheart, didn’t know you were home from college. I’m just tryna find the car keys. Your old man said they’d be—“

He notices your red face and his brows knit together in parental concern. He walks into your childhood bedroom and closes the door behind him, “How’s college treatin’ ya? Made any friends?”

Your bottom lip trembles a little. Joel thinks it might be the saddest and most precious thing he has ever seen, wanting to snap a picture of the pouty face you are making as you try to stop yourself from crying. 

“It’s horrible, Joel,” you confess and the tears start spilling uncontrollably, “I feel awkward. Out of place and boring—“

“Hey,” Joel immediately strides across the room, a pang in his stomach telling him to soothe you, “What’re you talking about?” 

“I feel less lonely alone in my childhood bedroom,” you let out a little laugh as you cry, but Joel just wipes a few tears from your eyes, and you help him by catching the ones threatening to drip down from your chin. It’s a nice little gesture to feel him soothe you, and you lean into the touch for just a moment to acknowledge what he is doing. 

“Kiddo,” he tuts, watches you rest your hands in your lap as he cups your face. It gives him the opportunity to slide his hand down your cheek to hold your chin with his thumb and index finger. He tips your head back to gain eye contact with you, “You’re a smart girl. Anyone would be lucky to have ya barging into their lives. Just gotta do it. No need to cry.”

“Easy for you to say. I never had to win you over,” you try to stifle the sob that’s going to spill from your throat, but it comes out in a croak anyway. 

Joel’s face softens even more. He wants to do whatever he can to make you stop crying, deciding to hold out his arms, “C’mere, kiddo.”

You get up from your seat at the desk and step into his arms, letting your forehead rest against his shoulder and your arms along your sides. He chuckles slightly, chest rumbling a little, and kisses the top of your head, “Attagirl. There, there.”

You don’t register the flip of a switch inside of him before it is too late, starting with the sniff of your hair that sets off something primal in Joel. It’s vanilla. Dumb, innocent, Girl Scout-esque vanilla. You smell like fucking vanilla, and the sweetness has him inhale deeply as he realizes that he has been holding his breath.

It makes the sweet scent fill his nostrils once again, and, unsurprisingly, has him hard within mere seconds. He pokes into your thigh, and you look down with a loud gasp and the redness in your cheeks isn’t caused by crying anymore.

“Joel,” you sound confused, unable to find a proper way to respond to the situation.

Joel makes a decision then. He lets his arms unwrap from you and reaches down to undo your jeans, fumbling only for a moment with the button until getting to the zipper. 

“What are you doing?” Your eyes widen. Even moreso when he sticks a hand in your pants. 

“Nothing, I’m just tryna make you feel better, sweetheart,” he replies, smiling softly at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as they’ve darkened with lust. When he swipes his fingers over your clit, your gasp turns into a moan and you grab onto him. Joel is in heaven, “There we go. Ain’t that better?”

“We shouldn’t—“ you argue, but Joel’s fingers grind harder against your clit, and heat starts to rise between your legs. 

“Shhh, shut up for a second and let yourself enjoy this. Betcha stupid college boys can’t make you come like I will in just a moment.”

You moan a little louder, shaking your head both to answer his postulate and to tell him to stop, “But Joel… Ah.”

Joel knows he shouldn’t, but you were waltzing around in a bikini this summer, and he hates you for growing up to be such a fine young woman. He cannot stop thinking about you in the red one with high legs, barely covering your ass and sending an old dog like himself to fuck his hand in his best friend’s bathroom. He deserves this after all this time.

His fingers move back and forth between your legs, expertly closing in on your climax with each swipe and you hold onto him for dear life. Your hips buck as you come, and he can feel a slight gush on his digits as your legs start to shake. 

“Good girl,” he praises, slowing down his touches until your high passes. Only then, he retracts his hand and watches the dazed look upon your face. 

It takes a few moments before you realize what has just taken place, drunk on being touched by a handsome man. Quickly, you reach to button your pants again, but Joel lays a hand on top of your wrist. Your doe eyes nearly have him toppling over.

“Joel, we cannot do shit like that,” you whisper despite no one being there but you and him. 

“Language,” he reprimands without hesitation, “Turn around.”

You make yourself a little taller, but cannot hide the blush on your face, indicating your heart rate, “I mean it.” 

“Turn around,” he reaches under your hand and curls his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, and you respond by looking down, “S’my turn.”

“Fuck, Joel— dad’s gonna murder you,” you continue your whisper. 

“Your daddy ain’t here right now,” Joel yanks at your jeans hard to turn your around. He kicks the spinning chair to the side, so he can push you down over your childhood desk and nearly make you knock over its pink lava lamp. 

The pulsing between your legs returns. You look at him over your shoulder, curling your toes in your socks as the anticipation of what is about to happen hits you. You know that you should fight it, and you make a last effort to stop him, but it isn’t very convincing. 

“It isn’t right.”

“You don’t want to leave me hard enough for your precious daddy to see, do ya? Or do ya wanna get me in trouble?” Joel reveals what he is doing behind you when you hear the buckle of his belt. The metal hits your carpet with a clink, “Answer me so I know if you’ll fuck me over.”

“N-no, of course not, never,” you stutter, already reaching to pull your jeans down now that Joel never allowed you to button them again. Joel wants to bite down on his fist, watching the blue and pink Superman panties reveal themselves. It’s all so perfectly innocent and he is going to ruin you by putting his cock in you.

Joel knows you’re not a virgin; has seen you getting picked up by some boy with a shitty car a few times. It’s fine. It makes this easier, to just be relentless, even if he wishes that he’d been the one to show you the ropes, wondering briefly if the stupid boy has ever made you come like he will. No matter what, he is sure that no one has ever made you come that fast. 

“Was it so hard to give in?” Joel eventually asks, pushing his own jeans and then briefs down over his hips, settling them around his knees. You shake your head, mirror him by tugging at your panties, showing off your wetness by slowly pulling to reveal the way they stick to your cunt. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans, cock twitching without even having touched you. He watches the light trickle of wetness seep from your pussy, glistening right before his eyes to invite him in. It takes all his willpower not to stuff you to the brim right then and there, “That all for me?”

You look back at him again, nodding slowly with your bottom lip between your teeth. You know this isn’t right but there’s nothing that could stop you from doing this when you’re this horny, this curious to know if he’ll even fit.

“Eyes front, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you real good,” he promises, watching you obey prettily and rest your tits on the Hello Kitty computer mat. 

“Please, put it in,” you whine, spreading your legs a little.

Joel lazily grabs his cock between his thumb and forefinger, takes a step closer toward you and nudges the thick head between your folds. He steadies his heartbeat with a slow breath, exhaling heavily as he starts to enter you. Fuck, he knows this will have the capability of ruining his life forever if anyone finds out but when you whimper at his size, he knows that he is done for; nothing will ever be enough again after feeling the tight grip of your young and inexperienced cunt.

“It’s not going to fit,” you tell him with slight panic to your voice, hands coming up to grab whatever you can but only the surface is safe. You are already panting from the pulsing of your walls, body resisting him just slightly. You want to tell him that you haven’t been fucked in months, and that you’ve never been with someone his size, girth stretching your aching cunt until your body feels feverish, “I’ve never been… Please, Joel, Mr. Miller. I—“

“Fuck you calling me Mr. Miller like your cunt didn’t just squeeze down on me when you said it,” Joel growls. He moves forward without warning, bottoming out inside of you and making you keen loudly as you feel him bump into your cervix. It hurts. Your nails dig into the wood, mouth opening in a silent shout.

“You never been what? With a man?” Joel continues, the real man is implied. A soothing hand comes to rest on top of the small of your back, acknowledging the pain that he has caused for just a moment before reaching to grab your hips with both hands. 

You suck in a sharp breath, screwing your eyes shut as you wait for the first thrust. Joel pulls back only slightly then settles inside of you again with a brutal force, thinking that you might as well get used to it quickly so that there’s no rush to finish the job if your father arrives home. He does realize that this is a possibility at any given moment. It makes him jerk inside you.

After that, he starts a pace that has little consideration for you. He will take what he has wanted since the beginning of summer, thrusting harshly into you and making the desk slam against the wall until you are a moaning mess underneath him. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, especially when his dick slides over that little spot inside of you that you’ve never felt anyone be able to do before. 

“Fuck,” you gasp loudly, clenching once as the nudge inside of you sends signals to your clit. It throbs like before, ready to be touched again but you don’t dare let go of the wooden desk in case you topple off onto the floor.

“You don’t fucking swear or I’ll tell on you to your daddy,” one of his hands slide up to hold onto the back of your neck. He leans over you, goes impossibly deeper. 

“Sorry, it-it’s just…” you whine, struggling a little against his grip but eventually managing to look back at him like earlier. It causes his fingers to dig into your cheek instead of your neck, “No one’s ever—“

He can see you struggling to stop yourself from cussing again, making him smirk as he breathes raggedly into the very pink room. He holds your gaze, ignoring the family photos on the wall in front of him, “Never what?”

“Fucked me like this, ah, made me want to co— Joel, made me want to come again,” you blurt out and squeeze your eyes shut again at a particularly hard thrust. You moan loudly, now also standing on your tippy toes because Joel’s hips are so strong that he is about to lift you off the ground a little. 

The hand on your neck and cheek slips around your head, covering your mouth to stop you from swearing once again. He wishes he had time to teach you a lesson. His fingers dig into the corners of your mouth, and you fight the urge to bite down to feel just a bit of relief from the tension building up in the pits of your stomach, tugging from inside towards your touch-starved clit whenever he thrusts against your g-spot.

“If you can’t use your words properly without spitting filth,” he says firmly despite his slowly crumbling facade, balls tightening as his climax builds just like yours, “Then you don’t get to talk at all, baby girl. Gotta save whatever pieces of your daddy’s girl I can now that I know you take cock like this. My cock. Bet you want me to come inside too, huh?”

You groan and nod, salivating into Joel’s palm. It shouldn’t turn you on, but the idea of him spilling inside of you and the fear of what could come next… it sends a thrill shooting up your spine. Testing the waters, you push back into him and the noise that it pulls from the back of his throat is worth a tacky porcelain dolphin shattering on the floor. 

With the splintering of the little figurine, Joel’s hand on your mouth pushes into you harder and he eventually has you upright. You still have both palms on your desk, arms stretched to help Joel keep you from falling over again. The front of your thighs burn as the edge of the table digs into them, creating a red line across them with each forceful move of Joel’s hips. 

You say something, but it’s muffled. Yet Joel guesses right without any explanation, hand on your hip coming around your front to find your clit and using two fingers to coax your orgasm closer. You feel a fire pool between your thighs, eyes rolling back into your skull as you near the edge. 

When you come, Joel groans along with you. He feels your pussy starting to pulse around his length, each drag of your walls sending him dangling on the brink of his own little death. He speeds up, lets go of your mouth to grip the edge of the desk and slam into you. 

“Gonna fill up that sweet cunt, watch you panic when you get bred like a slut,” he says through gritted teeth, and you wail as you try to get his hand away from your over sensitive nub that he has yet to let go off. He rubs you in earnest, has you screaming as he forces another high out of you that sucks him harder into you and makes him come inside of you. 

He will never admit how turned on the idea of you being late next month has you, but he makes sure that you milk every damn drop of his release with little care of the future horror it might bring. 

That’s when the sound of a door opening and closing sounds from downstairs. It sends you into an absolute panic, pushing back into him and Joel grunting, but then pulling out of you hurriedly. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swear despite what he has just told you, pulling up your underwear and jeans without any consideration for Joel’s come eventually making a mess of them. You should pee, wash yourself and splash cold water onto your face to cover up what you have just done but there’s no time.

Joel dresses as well beside you. He seems a little calmer, but he can feel his heart nearly beating out of his chest. This was a bad choice. A really, really bad decision from his side. He would apologize if he felt sorry though. 

Quickly, the both of you descend from the stairs and into the kitchen. Your father is there, a puzzled look on his face as he sees the two of you together. 

“Hey,” you try to sound cool and collected, “Mr. Miller just came over to borrow the car keys but we couldn’t find them.”

“Shit, was that today?” Your dad goes around the kitchen island and into the hallway. He fishes out the keys from a bowl on the side table in there, “Sorry, Joel. I coulda sworn it was tomorrow.”

“No problem,” he holds his hands up in surrender, showing no harm inflicted, “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Here ya go.”

“Thanks,” he catches them as your dad throws them across the kitchen, “See ya later.” 

He leaves without any more words, but he also leaves you with a shame that you never thought you could feel as you feel his come slide out of you and into your panties. You don’t even hear your dad asking you the first time about what you want for dinner. 

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