#i love him your honor !!!!!

[navybrat817]

I need this man to fuck me disrespectfully, please and thank you. ❤️‍🔥

[zeropro]

[tempfrangit]

He’s perfect, Bwuh

Seal Soap chibi, is that a thing? Please?

seal delivery!!!!!

it is a thing indeed!!! one of my first drawings of soap actually hehe

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Boris Karloff cracking up behind the scenes of The Raven (1963)

[vaultedoverthehorse]

Quiet Johnny Cade is so special to me. He’s got his close friends, so he doesn’t feel the need to talk to many other people (especially when he’s younger). He’s insanely good at reading people, so he doesn’t need to talk to them to understand how they’re feeling. He’s the best listener. He knows exactly when to interject. He knows so much dirt because people at school forget he’s there. He can tell when people are getting angry because their voice changes. He likes Pony so much because they can be quiet together. He looks up to Dally because he wishes he could be that brave in public. Quiet Johnny Cade!!!

[berilynzoe]

Geta looks that altered the chemicals in my brain permanently:

Gifs by @freckledjoes

[fantasy-based-reality]

My baby boi!

makin' a list.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 DAY 10: Wish List, Ken 'Okarun' Takakura

Ken 'Okarun' Takakura Summary: It had been a long time since Takakura had made anything akin to a wishlist. You sit down with him, however, to make one together.

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A/n: I have NEVER written for Okarun before so this will be the first time I ever write for him. I hope that you guys enjoy!

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Genre: Romance, Friendship, Humor Rated: Everyone Warning: Fluff, Ken is precious :3, nerding out

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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Ken Takakura hadn't made a wishlist since he was 9. When he had discovered that Santa Claus wasn't actually real, and it was just his parents putting the presents under his tree, Takakura had been devastated. It had made him become slightly jaded by the holiday, and so every year since then, Takakura made it a point to avoid doing anything Christmas-like.

Call him petty, but Takakura was truly betrayed.

That's how he began to become obsessed with the supernatural; researching anything about aliens and UFO's and things that go bump in the night. Coincidently, it was also how he met you.

You were just as obsessed about aliens and UFO's like he was; and when you had sat with him in the library, gushing about his alien book that he was reading; it was the start of something great, at least to him.

It wasn't easy for Ken to make friends, and you were his very first one he'd ever had. To say that Ken Takakura adored you would be an understatement.

Then, he met Momo Ayase, and everything changed. He got his penis and balls stolen, got cursed, got his penis back, then one of his balls back, and it was a whole ordeal that he tried desperately to keep you away from.

But you were always such a caring person, and though Takakura tried to protect you, you still got involved when Takakura suddenly wasn't around as much. Strangely enough, you had taken the news of his newfound power very well.

Nothing had changed despite this new development, but Takakura was thankful for that. In a way, you made him feel normal again. That was why on a Saturday afternoon, the two of you were huddled up in your room; Christmas-themed arts and crafts strewn around the room.

Glitter and marker ink stained your fingers, and Takakura was sitting at the desk, watching you as you made a popsicle-stick version of a gingerbread house. A pen was between his fingers, an empty sheet of paper in front of him; decorated with little reindeer and presents but otherwise blank besides the title you had made for him.

"You haven't made a christmas wishlist since you were 9?"

You didn't look at him, your face morphing into an expression of concentration as you carefully glued the popsicle sticks together; precise with your movements and placements.

"No. Ever since I found out Santa Claus wasn't real, I just never really had a good feeling about Christmas."

You pouted, glancing over at him and making his back tense slightly as you sighed.

"Aw, that's so sad though. You should still do one, you know? Even if Santa Claus isn't real, it'll still be a good way to figure out what you truly want for Christmas."

You did have a good point there, he supposed. Glancing back down at the paper, Ken Takakura was then stuck with a dilemma that he hadn't had to deal with for years.

What was it that he actually wanted for Christmas?

Sparing a glance at you, you had gone back to making your gingerbread house, the room filled with christmas music and the subtle sound of the two of you breathing, and Takakura could feel a blush begin to crawl up his neck as an idea struck him.

Carefully, his pen moved across the paper, and he began to write.

Kenny's Wishlist!

New Binoculars

Cryptology: A to Z

New pair of shoes

A kiss from (Y/n) (L/n)

Takakura swallowed thickly before he carefully, but quickly, but his list into the red envelope you had put onto the desk for him once he was done and sat back in his chair. You glanced up at him, raising a brow.

"Are you already done?"

"Yep."

You made a face at him, rolling your eyes and huffing.

"You better not have just left it blank."

"I didn't, I swear!"

He couldn't keep himself from blushing, clutching the wishlist close, and you shook your head at him, sighing and raising your hands in mock-surrender with a smile.

"Alright, alright, I'm just teasing you is all. Let's go put the envelope into the mailbox."

Takakura nodded, and the two of you stood up, brushing your clothes off, and you grabbed another red envelope from your bag. Takakura looked intrigued, asking as he adjusted his glasses and leaned down a bit.

"Is that your wishlist too?"

You smiled brightly, nodding to him and brushing it clean of any glitter, dust, or debris that had gotten onto it since the time of you making it until now.

"Yep. I got it done right around the beginning of December!"

Takakura hummed, asking you.

"What did you wish for?"

Your smile became soft and gentle, and you looked down at the envelope when the two of you made it to the mailbox.

(Y/n)'s Wishlist!

(first item)

(second item)

(third item)

A kiss from Ken Takakura

...

"Oh, you know...the usual Christmas list stuff."

Takakura didn't exactly know what that meant, but he didn't care. As long as you were happy and kept smiling like that, Takakura could live blissfully ignorant for the rest of his life. Placing his envelope into the mailbox alongside yours, he became shy, adjusting his glasses and voice shaky.

"Hey, would you...maybe...um, want to...get some hot chocolate and watch the new Cryptid show that came out? They're airing the first episode in a little bit."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you nodded, grabbing his hand and making the man damn-near combust as you dragged him inside the house again.

"Yes! Yes! I'm so excited for it, I hear the pilot is gonna be on vampires and the Chupacabra!"

Takakura gasped, momentarily forgetting that your hands were still conjoined by the time you two made it into the kitchen where the hot chocolate Christmas kits were waiting.

"No way, really?! I thought it was supposed to be on werewolves?"

"Nah, werewolves are lame!"

"Hey, that's not true!"

END DAY 10

i didn't know how to end this so forgive me ;askdjf;alsdjf

[bucky-obsessed]

This will never not hurt

[aves-rook-laidir]

Slowly making my way through Ise Aldwir’s play through. It’s slow because I keep stopping to take pics like some tourist

[hannahxinterrupted]

End.

She appreciated his attempt at levity and nods at the notion. Hockey sticks and volley ball poles could have formed formidable weapons, allowing some degree of survival in this manufactured metaphor.

Speaking about Aggie's elegance and marvel felt like the only way to support her right now. As if, these beautiful memories could knock something loose inside of her and bring beak pieces of the Aggie they all knew before. Hannah said nothing about her muteness or devolved social skills. She was very good at ignoring the elephant in the room if she felt that was the better outcome for herself; others were so rarely spared her scrutinizing gaze.

"You've got a gentle soul." Hannah declared with no lead up. It summed up her thoughts in a way that few other words could. It was not a statement of his character--it wasn't for Hannah to determine if this made him good or bad, selfish or selfless, weak or strong.

Because these things were not mutually exclusive. A good man can have a hardened soul for selfish reasons. Roman, for example.

"You're always welcome at our table, Ashton." Her words switched to Yiddish with no hesitation offering him a proverb she knew he wouldn't grasp. "Al shlosha de'varim ha'olâm omed: al ha'tora, ve'al ha'avodâ, ve'al ge'milût chasadim."

The world stands on three things: on Torah study, on the service (of G-d), and on kind deeds. Ashton had done many kind deeds and therefore in her eyes was someone worthy of commendation. She nodded and took her leave, wondering if Ashton would ever take up the offer and come to her in a time of need. Her door would be open to him.

[rosslovesspn]

someone sedate this man.

[lucdoodle]

drew my boi !!

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

This never gets old. 😂

Vincent Price - Bloodbath at the House of Death (1984)

[dekariosclan]

Reactions to Astarion’s siblings attacking the camp

— — —

Everyone: Thank goodness we’re okay and that’s over with

Gale: This should’ve been sex :(

[shenyuuha]

my beloved crowe and mr skrunkly (aka regulus)!!! im very much love with him your honor id die for him