**!!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!!
Simon likes to joke about the age difference between you two. And by joke, we’re talking about jokes that are too real to be jokes.
He knows that the age difference makes people side eye or do a double take. He’s aware that he receives strange looks when he tells people that his partner is twenty years younger than him.
It wasn’t intentional; it wasn’t like he was specifically scoping out someone younger than him. He wasn’t a goddamn creep, cut him some slack.
The two of you connected over something entirely so dumb. He had caught you staring at a cereal box at a grocery store with the most disgusted look on your face. “Can you believe they changed the design on the box?” you had asked him.
And all he could do was stare down at you with the flattest expression imaginable. Here you were, a stranger, speaking to him like you came in the store with him. But he played along, “Wouldn’t be the first. You’re too young to know what the first design looked like.”
Since that one singular conversation, his life has changed; a complete switch. Instead of his usual “Leave-Me-Alone-It’s-Bourbon-Saturday,” his weekends now consist of date nights with you.
Or “Taco-Mondays” (because Taco Tuesday was so overused in his mind), had now become “Simon gets to spend Mondays trying out new restaurants with his new partner.”
He felt young again; remembering that life was more than gunshots and gun wounds. Or that summer wasn’t just a long mission in the middle of a country he’s never been to but rather, a long weekend getaway while the sun burns the fuck out of his back.
“You got daddy issues,” Simon randomly said as he laid ontop of your beach towel. His sunglasses covered his eyes, a blob of sunscreen was on his nose, and his arms rested by his sides like he was ready for the summer heat to wash him away.
The beach was full of people; all setting up their little spots and kids running away from the gentle waves. You stared down at Simon, whom looked too comfortable tanning. Since when the fuck do men like him tan? Apparently, since he started dating you. “That came out of nowhere,” you replied, glaring down at him.
“Just saying, love. Not everyone wants to date a man who looks like he could be your father’s friend,” Simon replies without a second thought. He didn’t move— you barely noticed his lips move. That’s how serious he took his tanning.
A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you glanced over at the water, the small waves bringing in sand before throwing it back. “Yeah, it’s really not my fault you’re like… fifty and past your prime,” you joked back. “You probably have to pop a viagra to get it up before we fuck,” you added with a shit-faced eating grin.
It’s become a running joke of who could make who feel more uncomfortable at this point.
“Hey,” Simon began and finally shifted. “First of all, I’m not fifty. And second of all—“ he propped himself up with his elbows before turning around to lay on his stomach, “my dick’s twenty years older than you and you take it well, so.”
The burning question of course is whether everyone is mice, or just the humans. Like are the salarians little frogs or is it Mice and Mice With Blue Tentacles???
and annotate them with who is in the photos and when and where the photos were taken!!! your extended family 50 years from now will be grateful, and so will you if you end up forgetting any details
simon always says you fit well in his arms. fit well when he's inside you, begging you to just stay still, so he can finally cum. you fit well in his arms when he holds you when watching a scary movie, you're terrified when watching saw. fit well in his arms when you hug him tight, soothing him after a bad dream.
fit perfectly well in his arms when he holds your lifeless body, in the hospital bed, a wailing baby in a crib - his wailing baby.
your wailing baby. if you had anything left to own. when your cooling body lays in his arms, like a pile of limbs, arms and legs never to move on their own again. fit well in his arms as he's dragged away, never to fit in his arms again.
they need to come up with more words like necrosis and miasma and mausoleum and cadaver and morose and decrepit and stuff like that just so metal bands can expand their vocabulary
tags | plug! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader, smoking, weed, smut, vaginal fingering, riding, creampie, not edited, brain worm I had
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The first time you ever bought from Ghost you were wearing a skirt way too short to be socially acceptable, stumbling to his beat-up car with a drunk smile plastered on your face. He remembers it all a little too clearly, the way you leaned into the passenger window, smelling like tequila and the minty mouthwash you used to try and cover the smell up.
“Hi.” You giggled.
“Hi.” He responded, raising his eyebrow at you.
“Um, my friends over there,” You pointed to a group of girls across the street, “Dared me to come buy some off you.”
He stared at you without responding, and there was a long pause of silence before your smile dropped into something smaller.
“Wait? Do you not sell?” You covered your mouth, “Oh my gosh that’s so embarrassing, they told me they bought from you before!”
“Relax, bird. I do.”
“Oh! Great, that’s great. Um, how much for an eighth?”
“On the house.” He smirked, digging through the back of his car.
“What?”
“First time buyer, gotta guarantee you like it.”
You caught the bag he tossed you with a shy smile on your face, humming. “Okay, thank you!”
Ghost watched you jog to your friends after that, holding the bag out to them with a proud smirk.
The next time you bought from him, you were all by yourself, jean shorts showing off your pretty legs.
“Hi.”
He chuckled, “You’re back.”
You leaned into the window, low-cut shirt clinging to the swell of your breasts.
“I am.” You smiled, “How much for an eighth this time, for real?’
“Already have some pre-rolls, you can just have ‘em.”
“Huh? No, I didn’t pay you last time!”
“No one ever wants the pre-rolls anyway,” He shrugs, he lies. “They’re cherry flavored.”
That sparks your interest, “Really? I didn’t know they did that.”
You hand him your phone then, “Put your number in, yeah? So, I don’t have to hope to randomly run into you to buy more.”
When he hands the phone back you laugh after reading the contact name, “Ghost? That’s your drug dealer name? Really?”
“Do you want free weed or not?”
You laugh louder this time, “Yes! Yes! I was just teasing. Thank you!”
You text him two weeks later, a stupid meme at that with beady eyes, ‘more, please sir?’
He hates the way it makes the corners of his lips twitch.
He’s mobile that day, and you send him your address with one too many exclamation marks tagged on the end. You run out in leggings and slippers, a giddy smile on your lips.
“Hi.”
He laughs, “Hi, bird.”
“I liked the pre-rolls!” You say excitedly, leaning into the window, “Never had those before.”
“Yeah? What you need today?”
“You have any more?”
He frowns a little, “Get in with me, I’ll roll you some.”
You open his passenger side door too willingly, “Oh good. I don’t know how to roll,” You confess, “My friends usually do it for me.”
His mouth dips into a smirk, “Yeah? ‘Ts not that hard, watch.”
You lean closer, eyes wide like he’s actually teaching you valuable information and not how to roll a joint.
“Gotta make sure to take out all the seeds and stems before you grind it.” You watch him grind it enraptured. “Gotta roll up the tip first, then, wrap the paper tight.”
You nod eagerly.
“Fill it with your flower, roll it upwards with your thumb to make your shape. Then,” He licks across the paper, “Seal it with the glued edge, and twist the tip.”
He holds it out to you, “There you go.”
You take it between your fingers with a soft smile, “Thank you.”
You text him three days later, a picture of a lopsided joint that he definitely didn’t sell you.
‘How’d I do?’
‘Looks like shit.’
‘That’s mean :(‘
‘Come over, let me help.’
‘On my way!’
You show up an hour later, the crooked joint in your hands. You sit on his couch with a frown.
“You know, I didn’t think it came out that bad.”
“Give it here.” He laughs, “You packed it up wayyy too much. Got too much at the end here too, didn’t tap it out.”
Still, he lights it, holding it out for you to smoke. You take it between your fingers, inhaling a small amount before coughing slightly. He smirks at your watery eyes, taking the joint from you to smoke it.
“Sorry,” You say, “I got my lip gloss on it.”
He chuckles, the tip glistening with the gloss, placing it in the corner of his lips, “Doesn’t matter.”
It tastes like your lip gloss. Strawberries and weed.
You take turns smoking it. Simon watches you the whole time, with lidded eyes, focused on the way your pretty lips curl around the joint. The way your chest rises with each inhale, your eyes becoming heavier and heavier, a lazy smile smeared across your lips as you lean closer to him on his old couch.
All he can think about is those lips wrapped around his cock and not the tip of the joint. And he’s definitely rock hard in his sweats, but he doesn’t care if you notice, not when you keep giggling at every bad joke he cracks.
He jerks himself off when you leave, promising you’ll be safe and text him when you get home. He finishes when your message pops at the top of his screen ‘made it safe :)’
He invites you over himself a week later because he’s got random inventory, he ordered them himself, of strawberry wraps and he’s certain you’ll like them.
You do like them. You’re melted into his couch, blinking lazily at him.
“How come you never charge me?” It’s a whisper.
He looks at you, the room dizzy with smoke and your pretty gaze.
“Never make pretty girls pay.”
“Oh?” You sound disappointed, “So, you give it free to other girls?”
He shakes his head, “Just you.”
You squint, “Are you only giving me free weed so you can get a lay?”
He smirks, “Is it working?”
You scoff, smacking him in the shoulder, “Unbelievable.”
He catches your wrist.
“You giving it to my friends for free too?”
“Careful,” He smirks, “You’re starting to sound jealous.”
You roll your eyes, trying to pull away from him. He keeps you close, tugging you into his lap so fast you have no choice but to slip onto his thighs. You don’t look at him, eyes focused to the side.
“Just you.”
You peer down at him then, “Huh?”
His fingers find your cheek, still burning from the embers of the joint, “You’re the only one I don’t charge.”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“C’mere already.” He murmurs, pulling you down to kiss him.
You make a noise of surprise, like you hadn’t expected your smoke sessions to lead to this, with his cock pressed between your thighs eagerly, grip on your chin and hip to keep you close to him.
You kiss him back earnestly, smaller hands finding his shoulders. He loves it, fuck he loves the way your hands shake against his skin, the vibrations that leave your chest and fill his. He’s been dreaming about this since the moment you walked over in your tiny skirt.
Your bottom lip pops away from his, glistening with his saliva and not the lip gloss you insist on wearing.
“Wanted you to do that for ages.”
He chuckles against your lips, “Yeah?”
Your hips grind against his then, “Only reason my friends made me go was because I wouldn’t shut up about how hot you were.”
He presses his teeth against your neck, fingers making quick work of your belt and pants. “Came over with your ass and tits out, been jerking off to the memory ever since.”
You inhale sharply, “Fuck.”
Your eyes flutter when his fingers find your cunt, squelching with the sound of your arousal. He dips one finger in, drawing a whimper from you, and god you’re so fucking warm. The weeds got you nice and lax, a small grin on your lips as he coaxes you with one thick finger and he's sure he's never wanted to fuck someone more.
Your grin turns into a broken cry when he adds another, lips quivering around the shape of his name. Ghost. Ghost?
His thumbs already on your lips, gaze strong on you, “Simon.”
You nod in quiet understanding, “Simon.”
There’s a sticky strip of arousal that clings to your panties when he slides them off your thighs and it takes everything in him not to bury his face below and smell.
You scramble to his sweats, tugging them down impatiently. He lifts his hips willingly, lets his strained cock smack against his abdomen angrily. You lick your lips when you see it, eyes wide at the sight.
He grips it by the base, thumb coming up to wipe at the precum spilling from the tip.
“Oh my god.” You groan, “Let me ride you, please.”
He slides lower on the couch, tapping your hips casually in agreement like he hadn’t been picturing you on top of him for weeks, “Go on.”
You rise to your knees above him, shaking hand grabbing his cock so lightly it makes his eyes flutter. You glide his tip along your seams until it snags at your entrance, and you make a soft noise when he pops through. You slide down eagerly as much as he holds your hips and grits through his teeth to take it slow.
Your head falls to his shoulder when you sink to the base, his head rolling to the back of the couch because you’re so fucking warm and tight, and the weed definitely isn’t helping because he’s feeling everything ten times worse.
And when you lift your hips, he swears he sees heaven between your thighs when you drop back down and your pussy makes an obscene squelch.
You bury your face in his neck, arms around his shoulders and just fucking go at it. Ass slamming against his so fast the room echoes with each slap. You whine high-pitched with each thrust like you aren’t the one setting the pace, like you aren’t the fucking yourself raw around his cock.
“Jesus, bird, slow down.” He grunts, fingers dimpling your skin.
He says it because your legs are shaking and there’s sweat beading on your chest, whimpers falling from your lips endlessly, but more so because he doesn’t want it to end this soon. When he hasn’t even laid you back properly to fuck you the way he had hoped.
You don’t listen well.
You just keep sloppily fucking yourself onto his cock because you’ve found the sweet spot, the one that has you on the brink of an orgasm.
His lips on your neck do it for you, your toes curling into his shitty ass couch when you break. You soak his balls then, pussy clenching so tight around him he has to bite down on his cheek so he doesn’t bust.
He’s already moving you to your back, finding a home between your thighs when you come back down. You don’t even argue, like the perfect thing you are, folding your own legs to his shoulders, and arching into the couch.
He slides in slow, and your pussy spreads for him so prettily.
“Fuck,” he drawls, “Listen to her, just fuckin dying for me to fuck her.”
You whine loud at that, hips bucking to get him to move. He doesn’t wait a second longer, thrusts so hard into you, you feel it in your toes and your legs straighten out in shock.
He fucks you slow and hard, pace languid from the weed pulsing in his veins. You like it, at least he thinks you do from the way you keep writhing under him, the beginning syllables of his name broken on your lips between every thrust.
When he leans forward, pressing your knees to your shoulders, you gasp in shock from the stretch, but then his tip snags against that spot in your cunt that melts your brain into mush, and your eyes just roll into the back of your head.
He smirks proudly, bullying his length against that spot until you’re pushing at hips, murmuring something along the lines that it’s too much.
He doesn’t stop.
You pulse around him when you cum a second time, sweet voice ripped from your throat, and turned into blinded pleasure when he stamps his thumb against your swollen clit. Your feet tense at his shoulders, fingers tight against the cushions.
He finishes inside of you then, head falling to your shoulder with a deep groan, hips fucking into you with each pump.
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 👀 (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 wouldn’t use/can’t stand?
Are they a “the socks stay on during sex” kind of person?
Quickies vs Planned sex—thoughts?
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 wouldn’t 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?
What’s 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 shouldn’t 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 sex—do 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.
What’s their go-to safe word?
Their favorite actions during sex—chin-grabbing, hair-pulling, wrists being pinned, etc.
When they “dress-up” for sex, what’s their go-to outfit? Lingerie, suit, gown, etc.?
What do they like seeing their partner in when they “dress-up?”
What scent of candle do they light after sex?
Favorite thing/part about sex—intimacy, role-playing, etc.
Least favorite thing/part about sex—cleanup, setup, etc.
In case anyone finds it helpful because mobility aids are horrifically expensive and inaccessible…
And for those people who have access to mobility devices but might benefit from a second chair they can abuse without risking expensive damage…
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.
