casper you are so babygirl, i literally want to pinch your adorably red cheeks and spoil you with so much love and kiss those sly smirks and cuddle n snuggle with you. I literally cannot handle angst with this man and I have grown attached to him after getting ending 3 and 5 and I am this close 🤏 to getting the dlc just to get the 4th ending with this man.

excuse me i'll just leave this here while i go scream into my pillow

bubble bath with simon 🙏🏽😫

— ༉‧₊˚. simon 'GHOST' riley; rainy days.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, afab ! reader, choking, kinda pervy simon, heavily unedited.

.: masterlist.

when simon opens the door alarm bells run through his head. the first thing he sees is you; standing in front of him with mascara running down your blushed cheeks. you’ve been crying? he’s trying to think about what he could’ve done to make you this upset, normally you’d just call him and give him a piece of your mind — but never show up at his front door.

that’s when he takes in the rest of your appearance, damp hair, and a white top that’s clinging to your chest. he swallows and follows the curve of your breast, the material had turned translucent and he can see your hard nipples.

it takes every bone in his body to tear his eyes away and look back up to your face, and immediately he’s relived. although he’s been caught in his pervy stare, you’re not mad at him. a smirk grows on your puffy lips as you push past him, getting out of the rain that patters at his windows. you rub your hands up and down your arms hoping that it’d soothe the cold that’s washed over you — but you’re only squeezing your breast together, and simon kisses his teeth.

you had woken him up from a nap with your obnoxious knocks, so he was well aware of the ‘morning wood’ that you were glancing down at. simon’s brain was still all fuzzy, he couldn’t decipher if he was still dreaming or if you were actually standing in his living room. fully dressed but completely exposed to him.

he watched as you kick your shoes off, and dramatically flopping down onto his leather couch. panic surges through him again; did he forget about plans you made?

your outfit was anything but fancy, so nothing too important. his tight shoulders ease when he finally hears your voice. “i missed you.”

he’s not in trouble. simon rubs his eyes and almost sighs in relief. his gaze catches onto your cheeks, the smudged mascara making his brain go wild. he knows it was from the rain, but he wants to imagine that it was from his dick.

stuffing your mouth full of his cock, tears brimming your eyes as you gag on it. he has a fist full of your hair, watching the mascara run down your cheeks as he fucks your face.

his balls tighten and he can’t look at you anymore. not when you’re lying on his couch and leaving little to the imagination — your knees knocked apart, and your arms stretched above your head.

simon's been standing in the same spot since he opened the door. he hasn't said a word, you'd think he hasn't acknowledged you or your abrupt presence. but that is far from the opposite — simon's been admiring you from the moment he saw you standing in the rain. his mind clouded with lust and love; how effortlessly beautiful you are, how your eyes gleam in the dimly lit sky. with droplets of water running down your forehead, and makeup smudged on your skin, he can't believe you're his. and he wants you.

"simon?"

he blinks, and you're standing in front of him with your head tilted to the side. your cold fingers sliding under his wife beater, he shivers and rolls his shoulders back.

you can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you continue to trace along his defined muscles, your lips turn up when you feel him flex under your touch. he still hasn't said a word to you, just staring at you with his jaw clenched.

"you sore, baby?" you asks, removing your hands from under his tank and rubbing up and down his biceps. you squeeze his arms lightly and flutter your eyes up to meet his. a dazed glare.

you can only scoff light heartedly when he still doesn't open his mouth to reply. you know he knows what you're doing, you just can't tell if it's going in your favor or not.

technically you didn't lie. you did miss him, but you couldn't stop thinking about his throbbing cock and how much you missed being stuffed full of him. he'd been working so much recently, only meeting you at your place for dinner or a quick conversation. simon had been neglecting you, whether he knew it or not. so it'd be dumb of you to not come over on his only day off.

you pinch him lightly, with a pout. "earth to simon, are you even listening to me?"

simon only swallows when he looks down at you, your arms crossed over your chest. a cute little frown playing on your lips, he wants nothing more than to shove his fingers or his aching cock into that bratty mouth of yours.

"you're going to get a cold." he finally says. motioning towards your soaked clothes, and he bites the inside of his cheek when he sees your almost bare breast. they're teasing him in the worst way possible, he wants to rip that sheer shirt off and suck on your taut nipples. but he can't.

"take a bath with me, then?" you asks, chewing on your bottom lip. you're dragging him through the house by the hem of his shirt. and he before he knows it, you're stripping in front of him.

he must still be dreaming, he doesn't want to look away — afraid that if he even blinks he'll wake from what surely must be a dream.

you are bent over the tub and squeezing a bottle of one of your soaps into the running bath. you squeeze your thighs together, and look back at him from over your shoulder. "y'just gonna stand there?" you're teasing him, and normally he would do something about that, but he's confused. did you come over in the rain to fuck?

his question is answered when you tug his boxers down, your thumb brushing the precum that dribbles from his slit. simon hisses before grabbing your wrist, squeezing it lightly. you only roll your eyes and shake his grip off, pulling his wife beater off and nudging him towards the bubble filled tub.

simon sinks into the large bath, his arms hanging over the rim as he waits for you to join him. water spills over the edges as you sit in front of him, but he doesn't care. not when your ass is pressing into his throbbing cock.

you moan softly, leaning back into his chest. you rest your head on his shoulder and turn to kiss his collarbone. shifting in his lap, you nonchalantly grind against him.

"you're a naughty lil' thing," simon grunts. his hands sink under the water and squeeze your hips roughly, stilling your movement. he kisses the shell of your ear before letting one of his hands travel between your thighs.

you inch your hips forward, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your clenching cunt. "i don't know what you're talking about." you mumble, grunting when he squeezes your inner thigh.

"i don't like liars." simon tuts in your ear, and his other hand sneaks towards your front. wrapping his fingers around your throat, he squeezes lightly and taps your jugular with his index finger. "you missed me?"

a whimper slips from your parted lips, and you're suddenly very aware of his large erection that presses into the small of your back. "i missed you, needed you." you mutter, your words are raspy from his his hand around your neck.

"needed me," simon repeats. and as much as he wants to tease you —to break you, he needs you just as much.

under the water, he slips his fingers between your fold. at your sharp gasp, he continues; rubbing your clit with his thumb, he presses his middle finger against your hole.

"p-please." you plead, your back arching off of his chest causing water to splash around in the tub. bubbles cover your breasts and collarbone.

simon only hums, he slips two fingers into your clenching cunt. removing his hand from around your neck, he trails it down to your chest and rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

burying your face into the crook of simon's neck, you whine when he curls his fingers inside of you. squeezing your thighs together around his forearm, you babble incoherently into his damp skin. his pace is slow and controlled, just how you like it. his thumb is firm as he rubs slow circles and patterns along your puffy clit.

your orgasm comes much too quickly, and you're slouched against his chest. your breath is shaky and when he begins to move from behind you your eyes widen, "w-wait, give me a second." you say, and you can feel simon tugging you up from the warm water.

"enjoy your break, 'cause you're not gettin' any sleep t'night."

i’m fucking losing it

Sapkowski was insane for creating Geralt. The guy's name is Geralt of Rivia. He's not Rivian, has probably never been there but he still managed to get the accent right. People hate him as soon as he opens his mouth because they think he's Rivian (and also because of the atrocities but that's another story). He's knighted by the queen of Lyria and Rivia herself by accident, it goes to his head enough to distract him from his main quest then he deserts and makes himself a pariah, all in the span of a few days. Months later, he's killed by a mob in Rivia, a nameless victim in a crowd.

when geto said gojo was his best friend because he assumed gojo hated him now. and when gojo said geto is his best friend, even tho he killed him a few days before. and when the jjk0 novel called geto's erasure of himself for the sake of his goals a curse only gojo could bear. and when gojo said love is the most twisted curse of all because he knew he cursed geto by being unable to let him go, just like yuta did to rika. and when geto asked to be cursed in his last moments because he didnt find himself worthy of kindness from the man he hurt the most. and when gojo didnt answer, since there was no point in explaining to geto he already had cursed him, but through love. and when after 10 years spent coming to terms with the idea of letting geto go, gojo was still unable to do it completely, and that caused him to be sealed. and when the love of two men who were together for only three years was the cause of the collapse of a whole society-

Remember when tlou hbo said "what if this relationship started with Joel hurling Ellie into a wall at 15 miles per hour?" Iconic

This post made me analyze Rayla's and Callum's clothes for absolutely no reason.

In conclusion:

Rayla has a lot of layers for whatever reason

Callum doesn't have as many layers as it looks but it's confusing as hell

They have similar fashion taste :D

They look cool but somehow mortifyng, Rayla needs to get a normal outfit once the series is over or I will get an aneurysm (keep the purple tho)

Bonus: Rayla has the katolian diamond thing (?) and the spyral patterns from her former outfit, cute :)

I may be wrong about these but I love cool bullshit anime clothes with useless layers and I needed a reason to avoid doing job stuff

Sceleritas Fel: 'Fine day to storm a tower! Carry on! Don't mind a frail old Butler.'

So since Bhaal is perfectly fine with his Chosen-to-be just wrecking the plan and Myrkul's place in it, I do wonder what kind of conversations are going on back there considering that the two gods are known for their 'unbreakable symbiotic relationship.' The group texts must be interesting.

Myrkul: 'Bhaal your spawn has betrayed us and is killing my followers.'

Bhaal: 'Ah. Yes. That'

Myrkul: 'Bhaal they just killed my Chosen.'

Bhaal: ...

Myrkul: 'BHAAL.'

Bhaal: 'Look, there'll be loads of dead people at the end of the plan, you love it when I make dead people for you, right?'

Bane: :)

Myrkul: 'You shut the fuck up.'

scully always has her beautiful, colour-coordinated outfits while mulder owns frankly horrible ties. to solve this problem, she should have started getting him matching ties instead so they can be twinsies <3

mr. and mrs. spooky reporting for duty in complimentary clothes.

The thing about brocedes still living in the same building makes me wanna munch my walls because on one hand I am convinced they're basically playing gay chicken except the first one to move out of that condo is not gay but implicitly admits to be psychologically weaker so now the fight is not about who wins the championship but who can recover more swiftly from 2016 and pretend he's unbothered by losing one of the most meaningful relationships of his life, it's psychosexual and unbelievable and uselessly painful and nobody really wins so they're both fucking ridiculous, they really said after the most heartbreaking friendship breakup ever documented on live tv let's be a little silly let's prolong our rivalry to levels only reached by american sitcoms

On the other hand

On other hand it makes perfect sense. They're not gonna move out because moving out would mean letting the fight die which would mean getting out of eachothers lives forever. Because when the fight ends we can't go back to being friends so I'd be forced to simply leave you behind and I can't do that. Let's keep up the fight, let me keep us for a little more, out of spite if not out of love. Yes I hate you and I can't even say your name and I won't call you on your birthday but please let me pretend it's out of my hands if I see you in the hallway one morning and then I hide behind a door. Until we live in the same building I have an excuse to see you without admitting I want to. Without testing my pride to see if I had the courage to come to you when we had no chance to meet on the stairs anymore, because I don't think I would allow myself that and I know I would suffer tremendously for it. We can't be a part of eachothers lives anymore because I've hurt you too much and you've done the same, we can't go back, but please don't let me move forward. You won't speak to me anymore but let me at least see your face once in a while. Not on posters or tv or internet, your face, without filters and the perfect lighting, with eyebags and imperfect hair and anything other than the press-trained smile because that is- was my friend, the man on tv- I don't know who that is. And it's my home, my home, understood, you can't force me out of it like you forced me out of your life so you move first if you want to move but I don't want to. It's my home and you were my friend and I'll be damned if I let you take anything else away from me again. I can't bear you in my life and I can't bear you out of it. Let's keep things muddy and confused and ridiculous, let's not ever put an end to this. Remind me everyday why I hate you rather than go away and force me to think maybe I still care about you more than I have ever hated you. Do not let this heal, because who knows if one of us will ever have the courage to go back to this car crash to see if there's still something that can be saved. I will stay here, forcing you to look around before you leave your apartment and check the flight of the stairs to see if I'm coming up when you need to go down, like a monster always hidden in a dark corner, like a ghost I will haunt you. I will force my presence into your life, if not in your home, at your table, in your living room, then in the corner of your eye, in a set of steps you could never not recognise, in a shadow approaching the hallway. The hurt will persevere and so will the love, in this new wretched form. We swore we would always be at eachothers side, we never said how. No, I won't move out and I won't move on. Allow me to force you to do the same.

working on smth where I put gale in silly outfits based on wizard subclasses/schools of magic, since I already did necromancer.

daisy: i invited you here because i crave the deadliest game tim, nodding: knife monopoly. daisy: i was actually gonna hunt you down for sport, but now i'm really interested in whatever knife monopoly is.

Nicky bought one of those toy phones for kids and exchanged it for Kevin's phone one night at Eden's, he was to drunk to notice, but when he wanted to take a photo suddenly "AY AY AY AY, I'M YOUR LITTLE SAMURAI" started blasting.