**!!NOT SPOILER-FREE!!** just your resident problematic she/her with a deep love for bad things. call me pancake or pan. i love to rolaplay :3 ANTI GEN-AI!!! i interact w my main @/evisnotok
Would anyone be interested in a Sleep Token (stage characters) x OC roleplay? I do double ups and pretty much any genre or AU and I love world-building, brainstorming and yapping endlessly about the characters :3
I have a fem OC I ship with Vessel and I love to play II and IV the most, but also can do III! I tend to mirror, but I usually do larger replies (about 1-2 standard discord messages)
If you're over the age of 18 and interested shoot me a message (or even an ask if you prefer?) on here!!
You and Simon are that one couple who, when asked what your plans are for the weekend, will give a vague answer that folks usually interpret as a shit ton of sex, but in reality you two are just knocked the fuck out in bed with your awesome blackout curtains. Simon is snoring the whole damn house down.
A bunch of random, obscure NSFW asks for your OCs that I really want to know the answers to đ (thank you to the Discord chat for like half of these)
Are there any names they like to be called in bed/names they call their partner? Any names they wouldnât use/canât stand?
Are they a âthe socks stay on during sexâ kind of person?
Quickies vs Planned sexâthoughts?
Are they more of a dom, sub, or switch? If applicable, are they a top, bottom, or vers?
Do they have any really out-of-left-field kinks/fantasies? Maybe even something that they wouldnât necessarily want to act on but have still thought about?
Any place they absolutely would not have sex?
Are they into (consensual) pain during sex? Either giving or receiving
How often do they have sex dreams?
Whatâs their favorite way to get in the mood? How do they set the mood?
Are they down for casual one-night stands?
Are they attracted to anyone (specific person or just negative qualities) they really shouldnât be?
Would they be more or less likely to send a risky/risque text to their partner in the middle of a crowded/public area?
Morning vs evening sexâdo they have a preference?
If they send nudes, are they tasteful or just quick pics?
Describe their favorite sexual encounter.
Describe their least favorite/most embarassing sexual encounter.
Whatâs their go-to safe word?
Their favorite actions during sexâchin-grabbing, hair-pulling, wrists being pinned, etc.
When they âdress-upâ for sex, whatâs their go-to outfit? Lingerie, suit, gown, etc.?
What do they like seeing their partner in when they âdress-up?â
What scent of candle do they light after sex?
Favorite thing/part about sexâintimacy, role-playing, etc.
Least favorite thing/part about sexâcleanup, setup, etc.
In case anyone finds it helpful because mobility aids are horrifically expensive and inaccessibleâŚ
And for those people who have access to mobility devices but might benefit from a second chair they can abuse without risking expensive damageâŚ
Erik Kondo has made a website, Open Source Innovations, that details plans for DIY wheelchairs. These wheelchairs can be made from common materials like wood, plastic, and pvc. They are lightweight and can be custom fit to the user allowing from the same degree of movement you would get from a custom chair. And they are durable and easily repairable. (he has been stress testing his latest design by dropping it down stairs, dropping it out of a car, launching it across a driveway, and throwing it off a deck). Its 12lbs and I think he said its was in the $200 ish range for parts.
He also is working on cheap, open source, accessible designs for beach chairs, off road chairs, motorized attachments (think smart drive), and so on. Plus he skateboards in his wheelchair. Cool dude, helpful info, pass it on.
It's incredibly sad people have to resort to this, but it's a damn good resource. Use it. Spread awareness. Maybe one day people with physical disabilities won't need DIYs like this. But until then, reblog and share.
Cinemas should sell DVDs of the movies they're playing as you're walking out. If you liked the movie you could buy a DVD right there on the spot. Wouldn't that be awesome
Painfully shy reader getting absolutely obliterated drunk at the pub, losing all sense of timidity, and telling Gaz and Soap "I bet the reason Ghost actually hides his face is 'cause he knows everybody'd wanna sit on it".
Ghost overhearing, leaning over your shoulder, and letting you know "I'm just keeping your seat clean until you're ready to sit on it, love".
Obviously Simon fucks the embarrassment out of you the next day, but only after making sure you get your reserved seat nice and wet.
Quite possibly the funniest memory of the taskforce happened on Ghostâs 32nd Birthday.
Ghost was adamant not to celebrate it, eager to spend the night in the baseâs gym, beating the punching bag to a pulp. His friends, however, had a much different plan.
One thing led to another, they were three bottles deep at the strip club, and Soap had insisted on spending an absurd amount of money to buy Simon a private dance with the clubâs most popular stripper.
Enter you, towering in 6 inch heels, bare skin painted with body glitter and spilt liquor, all but naked except for the tiny g-string hugging your covetable hips.
Simon had barely downed a single beer all night, too outraged at his friends to get into the birthday spirit.
Heâd been nearly at his witsâ end with Soapâs antics, but the second youâd strutted in, bare tits exposed and covered in hot pink glitter, his words had died on his tongue.
The boys had hooted and hollered as you hauled a silent (and completely stiff) Simon Riley from his chair and yanked him across the club by his shirt collar.
Their laughing had drowned in the music. Unbeknownst to him, theyâd huddled around the crack in the door, choking on their laughter as you cranked up the music.
Youâd rubbed your ass against his hips. Pulled his hands off the arm rests to grope at your tits. Toyed with the edge of that tiny pair of panties until he could see the neat little patch of hair hidden just underneath the scant fabric.
All the while, Simon had been ramrod straight in his chair. Unspeaking. Unmoving. Unblinking. Completely and utterly expressionless.
To the 141, it was downright hilarious, watching a pretty thing like you vigorously shake your ass up and down the human equivalent of a brick wall.
To SimonâŚwell, itâs a much different story.
His nails were dug into the chair so deep the leather threatened to break. His heart was beating 500 times a minute. Beneath the mask, he was soaked in sweat, trying valiantly not to huff down the scent of your sweet perfume.
He knew you could feel how hard he was. Knew you could feel the way he twitched at your every touch, too. And yetâŚyou just didnât care.
He could hear all three of them laughing too hard to breathe behind the scant cover of the door. But when you pulled his hands off of the chair and gave him a wicked smile, before slowly guiding his limp fist into the slick gusset of your pantiesâŚ
He couldnât stop himself from cumming in his jeans right then and there. Wide-eyed and breathless, heâd choked down a groan by clearing his throat. Agitated, heâd glanced at your face while the chemical bliss exploded behind his eyes.
Heâd expected you to be enraged, to go storming out the door, yelling for security.
But when he looked up at you, he was blinded by the sheer hunger in your eyeâby the way you couldnât stop grinding yourself up against him even then, long after the music had stopped.
Needless to say, the 141 barely remember a single flicker of that night beyond the hilarious image of their stock-still, skull-faced beanstalk with a lap full of overeager stripper.
Simon, on the other handâŚhe remembers it all.
Especially, he remembers the lipstick-stained napkin youâd tucked into the pocket of his cum stained jeans.
That, and the ten digits youâd scrawled thereon before biting your goodbyes into the crook of his reddened neck.
it is so funny when you realize that by drow standards, especially drow noble house and ESPECIALLY Baenre standards, Minthara is the woke liberal
She is willing to work with men in leadership positions even post-mind control and she will actually compliment and admire their tyrannical prowess
She will argue that the refugees in Baldurâs Gate should be enslaved because itâs practical and better for them that way, not because theyâre weak lesser races that deserve to be subjugated
Like she probably gets called a libtard at Spider Thanksgiving every year while all her relatives are trying to poison each other
Simon knows his girl struggles to get there sometimes. It has nothing to do with her state of mind, the stimulation, her arousalâor even his, for that matter. It has everything to do with position.
The first time they fucked and she didnât cum, Simon was adamant to know why. For nearly twenty minutes afterwards, heâd pestered her (none too kindly) to just fess up what heâd done wrong and get it over with. After a hissy, nude fight between the two of them, heâd finally crossed his arms and laid his hand bare.
âShow me, then,â heâd grunted, âIf youâre too scared to tell me.â
Sheâd stared at him with her best approximation of a ruthless (adorable) glare, before finally conceding. She was able to bring herself off in less than ten minutes, writhing amongst his bed sheets, voice edging with desperation from the need he hadnât been able to satisfy.
Itâs only when she goes stock still, legs clenched together with all her might, that she manages to cum.
And thus, the problem is presented. No matter how hard he fucks, how tenderly he strokes her clit, or how badly she begs him for it, she canât cumâat least not without squeezing her legs together so hard a single finger (let alone the width of his hips) could fit between her thighs.
After some much more mature (and eloquent) conversations than that first time together, Simon finally helps you gather the courage to try and solve the problem once and for all. Naturally, youâre quite nervous. Youâve tried a hundred times before and never managed it.
But Simon? Well, heâs not backing down without a fight.
He helps you into his bed, settles you down amongst the pillows, before arming himself with your very extensive (and very pricey) collection of vibrators.
âBend your legs ân let âem fall to the bed, love,â he watches, âKeep your feet togetherâGood girl.â
You flush as his fingers pet over your thigh, eyes fully focused on the task at hand. Already, thereâs a proud tent in his sweatpants, but he doesnât make to touch himself.
âSimon, justâjust donât get your hopes up,â you plead.
âMy hopes are just fine right where they are, love,â he tuts as he flips the fibrator on, âBut thanks for the concern.â
Before you can say another word, he pins the vibrator against your pussy with his palm, swallowing you in a wash of vibration. You yelp at the sensation and slap a hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
âNuh-uh, pretty girl. None oâ that,â he yanks your hand away and pins it at your side, âWeâre gonna be here quite awhile. Might as well get comfortable.â
You look up at his steely blue eyes, already panting, struggling against his ruthless hold on your wrists. It takes every ounce of concentration not to close your legs around the vibrator.
For what feels like nearly an hour, Simon kneels over you, fully clothed, watching you moan and tear up while he holds the vibrator to your cunt.
He massages your tits, bites hickeys into your neck, and keeps your hands resolutely pinned to the mattress no matter how wildly you buck and writhe in his hold.
After nearly forty-five minutes of torture, something pulls in your stomach.
âSimonâSimon, Iââ you absolutely mewl, âI think thatâsomethingâs gonna come outââ
You donât manage to finish the sentence. By now, youâre drenched in sweat, frustrated beyond all belief, with a pussy so wet Simonâs got black slick stains all over the front of his grey sweatpants.
The fear in your voice is palpable, and Simon releases a hand to grab onto your chin, forcing you look him in the eye.
âThatâs it, baby, câmon,â he whispers, adding more pressure, âSâjust you ân me here. You can do it. Youâll be fine.â
âSiâSimonâŚâ you moan, tears cascading down your cheeks when the threatening sensation creeps up once again.
Your legs jump on the mattress, threatening to close, but Simon pins your thigh to the bed using his knee before you can get there.
âThaaatâs it, thatâs a good girl,â he croons, watching as you careen over the edge, âCâmon, pretty girl. Come for me.â
You fall over the edge with a loud, adrenaline-fueled moan, legs jumping beneath Simonâs weight as you struggle through the aftershocks.
All the while, Simon kisses down the front of your body, cooing over how cute you look with tears running down your face. Itâs only after the sheer pleasure falls away that you can finally think clearly.
Needless to say, youâll be doing it again soon. And, if you make enough progressâŚwell, Simonâs already got extravagant plans for just how, exactly, heâll go about rewarding you.
Simon knows his girl struggles to get there sometimes. It has nothing to do with her state of mind, the stimulation, her arousalâor even his, for that matter. It has everything to do with position.
The first time they fucked and she didnât cum, Simon was adamant to know why. For nearly twenty minutes afterwards, heâd pestered her (none too kindly) to just fess up what heâd done wrong and get it over with. After a hissy, nude fight between the two of them, heâd finally crossed his arms and laid his hand bare.
âShow me, then,â heâd grunted, âIf youâre too scared to tell me.â
Sheâd stared at him with her best approximation of a ruthless (adorable) glare, before finally conceding. She was able to bring herself off in less than ten minutes, writhing amongst his bed sheets, voice edging with desperation from the need he hadnât been able to satisfy.
Itâs only when she goes stock still, legs clenched together with all her might, that she manages to cum.
And thus, the problem is presented. No matter how hard he fucks, how tenderly he strokes her clit, or how badly she begs him for it, she canât cumâat least not without squeezing her legs together so hard a single finger (let alone the width of his hips) could fit between her thighs.
After some much more mature (and eloquent) conversations than that first time together, Simon finally helps you gather the courage to try and solve the problem once and for all. Naturally, youâre quite nervous. Youâve tried a hundred times before and never managed it.
But Simon? Well, heâs not backing down without a fight.
He helps you into his bed, settles you down amongst the pillows, before arming himself with your very extensive (and very pricey) collection of vibrators.
âBend your legs ân let âem fall to the bed, love,â he watches, âKeep your feet togetherâGood girl.â
You flush as his fingers pet over your thigh, eyes fully focused on the task at hand. Already, thereâs a proud tent in his sweatpants, but he doesnât make to touch himself.
âSimon, justâjust donât get your hopes up,â you plead.
âMy hopes are just fine right where they are, love,â he tuts as he flips the fibrator on, âBut thanks for the concern.â
Before you can say another word, he pins the vibrator against your pussy with his palm, swallowing you in a wash of vibration. You yelp at the sensation and slap a hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
âNuh-uh, pretty girl. None oâ that,â he yanks your hand away and pins it at your side, âWeâre gonna be here quite awhile. Might as well get comfortable.â
You look up at his steely blue eyes, already panting, struggling against his ruthless hold on your wrists. It takes every ounce of concentration not to close your legs around the vibrator.
For what feels like nearly an hour, Simon kneels over you, fully clothed, watching you moan and tear up while he holds the vibrator to your cunt.
He massages your tits, bites hickeys into your neck, and keeps your hands resolutely pinned to the mattress no matter how wildly you buck and writhe in his hold.
After nearly forty-five minutes of torture, something pulls in your stomach.
âSimonâSimon, Iââ you absolutely mewl, âI think thatâsomethingâs gonna come outââ
You donât manage to finish the sentence. By now, youâre drenched in sweat, frustrated beyond all belief, with a pussy so wet Simonâs got black slick stains all over the front of his grey sweatpants.
The fear in your voice is palpable, and Simon releases a hand to grab onto your chin, forcing you look him in the eye.
âThatâs it, baby, câmon,â he whispers, adding more pressure, âSâjust you ân me here. You can do it. Youâll be fine.â
âSiâSimonâŚâ you moan, tears cascading down your cheeks when the threatening sensation creeps up once again.
Your legs jump on the mattress, threatening to close, but Simon pins your thigh to the bed using his knee before you can get there.
âThaaatâs it, thatâs a good girl,â he croons, watching as you careen over the edge, âCâmon, pretty girl. Come for me.â
You fall over the edge with a loud, adrenaline-fueled moan, legs jumping beneath Simonâs weight as you struggle through the aftershocks.
All the while, Simon kisses down the front of your body, cooing over how cute you look with tears running down your face. Itâs only after the sheer pleasure falls away that you can finally think clearly.
Needless to say, youâll be doing it again soon. And, if you make enough progressâŚwell, Simonâs already got extravagant plans for just how, exactly, heâll go about rewarding you.
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