HOLY GUACAMOLE - Tumblr Posts
Eating Star Fruit because my stomach is a black hole. The taste is absolutely cosmic ⭐🌟✨
SHUT UP EVERYONE .j is even more dogcoded than n in my beautiful world. she's a service dog . she's been taught to perform nothing but perfection, and perfection she will perform. she's a hurt dog. she lashes out and bites because she remembers the hand that feeds, and remembers how much it hurt her. she's dogcoded… because she gives out her loyalty like an open wound… loyal in the same way a shepherd dog is to its sheep… her very being is circled by those she remained loyal to, without them she's not whole. she's a leashed dog. she allows people to pull on the leash despite being able to bite because she has never known anything outside of it .do we agree
PAIRING: Office! Ghost/Co-Worker! Ghost x F! Reader
WARNINGS: smut || this is the fluffiest this blog is going to get and is not indicative of the vibe around these here parts (im on my period and need softness okay???) || 18+ only ||
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 of 4
***
You don’t play games with men.
You swear you don’t — that’s not really you, you just want to fuck them—but there is something about Simon, no, Ghost, no, Simon that makes you want to.
There’s something he’s done to the chemistry in your brain—him and his “mate” Ghost—that makes you feel like there’s fun to be had here, you just have to reach out and take it. You don’t find his deception funny (far from it), but what would be funny is if you were to play along a bit. Let him think he’s got you.
But he had gotten you. He’d gotten you good.
After you’d left his office, his real office, you’d laid awake all night thinking about all the signs you’d missed. The standoffish attitude, how none of your other coworkers engaged with him, how your boss barely engaged with him. You weren’t sure if they knew he was Ghost, but everyone had enough self-preservation to stay away from the big, mean, tank of a man who didn’t care to participate in office small-talk. Everyone but you, that is. Sure, you’d guessed he was some big-shot but fuck.
You’re still contemplating on how to get him back the next morning before work, when you see him walk towards you. Shit . With nowhere to run without him seeing, you quickly decide on your strategy—calm and collected. You’re quite impressed by yourself, you even almost convince yourself that you can do it.
“Alright?” he murmurs, when he reaches you. He’s tapping his pockets looking for a lighter when you open your mouth and “calm and collected” tumbles out of your mouth with all the grace of a lanky baby giraffe.
“Ghost couldn’t make me come.” Like an aberrant whore, you almost shout the words at him. Embarrassment unfurls inside you, deep in the pit of your stomach, and you have to bite your lip to prevent more words tumbling out and exposing you.
“Ghost couldn’t…make you come.” He repeats in a monotone. When you look up into his eyes, they’re wider and darker than you’ve ever seen them, before he schools his expression back to normal. "You tell him that?”
“Did I tell him?” Shit. “Well…no, of course I didn’t ‘ tell him,’ Simon, he’s…scary!”
“Scary.” Simon repeats the word to you in a monotone again, and you’re left wondering if you’ve broken him.
“Can you speak with your own words?” you ask with a nervous laugh, and his eyes snap to you and narrow slightly. You know what’s happening, at that moment. You both know what’s happening.
He knows you saw the file on his desk the previous night—he’d seen you gape at it and then (poorly) rearrange your face into neutrality before you’d practically sprinted out of the room. He knows you’ve figured out that he’s “Ghost.”
He knows that you know, he’s just trying to figure out if he should call your bluff.
“Alright. Alright, tell you what.” Simon crosses his arms over his chest and you’ve never seen so animated about anything . “Give it another go, yeah? Let ‘im…let ‘im try again.”
“And you care because…?” Your own eyes narrow as you try to figure out what he’s playing at. If you’re being bested at your own game, again.
“Well, if gets you to shu’up about him, I’m willin’ to play.”
“You’re willing to play,” you whisper, and holy shit. You watch as his eyes darken at your words. There are no illusions between the two of you now. What had started as you wanting to murder him was easily being turned around on you, and you weren’t sure who was punishing whom anymore. “Fine,” you say, shrugging casually. Though, with how decidedly not casual you feel, it probably looks like you’re having a muscle cramp.
“Fine. Here. Tonight.”
“Here?” you screech, then look around to make sure no one’s heard you. “Simon, we can’t— Ghost can’t be here, if we got caught I could lose my job—”
“Shut up,” he murmurs. “Go to work. Be back here tonight.”
If you were more than a human puddle in that moment, you would have kicked him for his audacity.
***
You used to find it comforting how little Simon spoke, one of the most non-verbal people you’d ever met, communicating with you mostly through eye contact with you from across the room. If you had to wager, about eighty percent of his communication with you was eye rolls and grunting at you in irritation. The rest of the twenty, you’re sure, spent laughing at and/or making fun of you.
But horny Simon is different. Horny Simon is verbose as fuck . “Mmpf, you taste so good , sweet girl.” His voice is muffled, and a very satisfied smile makes its way to your face.
“Mutton chops would kill you if he found out,” you breathe. But you choke and almost squeal when his teeth graze you in warning.
“Shh.”
“Fuck ,” you whimper. The sound echoes in the dark room and you curse again. “I swear to God, we’re gonna get caught.”
“Keep that pretty mouth shut for me, then, love. Don’t want to get in trouble, do ya?”
He’s spread you out on your own desk. It is absurd beyond belief, and if the two of you get caught, the punishment’s going to be much worse for you than for Simon, who would just suffer death at the hands of his CO. But even you can’t help but admit that the fact that he’s spread you out the way he has has got you thinking (already!) on when you can get him to do it next.
Your hand makes its way into lush blond strands, and you tug at him, whining quietly, and he gets the message. He pushes himself up, and brings his face level with yours, looking deeply into your eyes, the scar on his lip pulling slightly with his smirk. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you whisper back. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
His smile is small—barely a twist of his lips—but you know that if you let it out into the world, it would move mountains. “D’y’know why I was on desk duty, love?”
You would answer him with a degree of coherence if he wasn’t kissing your neck wetly, fingers continuing to move in and out of you in a way that was going to drive you insane. “Mm, no, lieutenant,” you moan. “Why… oh! Why were you on desk duty?”
He gets back on his knees again, lips never leaving your skin, just slowly making the journey down, hovering around your inner thigh. His eyes stay fixed on his fingers moving inside you. “Davis. Heard him speakin’ about ya. Prick needed a reminder of his manners.”
You gasp and push him away from you in shock. “What?”
“Wanted to fuckin’ kill him for speaking about you like that, y’know that?”
“You—Davis ?”
“Don’t want to hear you say ‘nother man’s name right now, love,” he warns.
You’re still processing what you’ve heard, when his expression changes slightly—fuck why is he so wickedly handsome?—and he brings his wet fingers up to you, rubbing them on your lips. Your mind blanks before you lie back and your head thuds slightly against the desk. “All this time, you wanted...”
“All this time,” he confirms, and it seems he’s reached the end of his patience with the chatting. “Asked Price to send me ‘ere if he was gonna punish me, so I could have a chance to ‘ave ya.” You see him undo his belt and his hands move over your body gently before they settle on your hips. “Do I have ya then, pet?”
You push up on your elbows, and extend a hand towards him, fingers outstretched. He pauses—looking nothing short of the god of corruption with his jeans undone and his hair dishevelled and his eyes wild with lust. He holds your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. When he bends forward to kiss you, you find yourself smiling into the kiss.
“Depends. Will you let me come tonight?”
His answering smile against your lips feels like he’s lit something inside—light and warm and alive inside you, little sparks crackling with energy—and you’re briefly rendered breathless at the depth of your attraction to him. “Let ya? Thought you said I couldn’t make you?”
Oh . Oh, he’s so fucking sweet, this gorgeous, weird, weird man with his balaclava and his forearms and his teasing and his fucking tattoos, you briefly (in a moment of insanity) want to hold him close to you. Just for a second, get him to put his head on your chest.
“Wanted y’to know who you were coming for, love. Wanted t’hear you say my name. Couldn’t let y’come if you didn’t, could I?”
And then he’s pulling his cock out of his jeans, stroking himself once, then twice, and your mouth waters at the sight. You want to keep watching him do it, reckon you could get off just watching him like that, but then he speaks.
“Y’want this?” The words take you back to last night, he even says it in that stern baritone he reserves for when he’s under the mask, and your mouth becomes unreasonably dry.
“Yeah…yeah, I want this,” you whisper. Before you’re overthinking or swooning at the sight of his cock, he’s pushing into you, stretching you out for him, bullying his cock into you. You feel every single inch of him and the deliciousness of it—how you can feel yourself stretch to accommodate him—makes you groan.
“Don’t you close your eyes, don’t you fuckin’ dare! You fuckin stay with me, you hear me?” The words are a desperate growl and your eyes snap open. He’s looking at you intensely, eyes searching yours for something, you’re not sure what, and you stare right back at him. You try to convey through your gaze how much you want this, how much you’ve ached for it.
You’re convinced the message is received when he lets out a gorgeous sound, the most filthy moan to ever leave a man, and flips you over with ease. It doesn’t leave you with a single thought in your mind, the overstimulation of your environment—the ego boost of finally getting what you want, the way he’s making you feel right now, the movement of his hips against yours—and you feel like you’ll go insane if you don’t do something with the excess energy.
And oh , he makes it so much better, like he hears your thoughts, knows your body, because he puts two fingers in your mouth while he continues to pound into you from behind. The same two fingers that were inside you, so you can taste yourself on your tongue.
He pauses for a moment to adjust and it makes you whine at the fact that he’s stopped, even for that one second, so much so that you take charge, fuck back into him and keep that momentum going, allowing his cock to hit that spot inside you. Simon freezes for a second, body tense and you think you’ve done something wrong or worse, hurt him, but his hands tighten on your hips and he pulls you up to your knees using just fingers in your mouth, making you gasp.
“I fuckin’ love how you give it t’me. Been gagging for it, aren’t ya, love.”
Yeah, horny Simon is verbose.
“Fuck, Simon, fuck, you feel so good,” you whine and your eyes are blurry, you realise. Every plunge of his cock feels like it hits deeper and deeper into you. You collapse like a house of cards, your cheek hitting the blessed cold of the desk, and allow a shaky hand to find your clit.
But Simon has very particular plans for you. He bats your hand away with a huff-laugh in your ear, taking over the task himself. “Gonna say my name when I make you come?” You moan as he rubs your clit in exactly the way you need and he laughs again. “Yeah , you will.”
When you come, it’s sudden and it takes you by surprise, making every muscle in your body seize up and contract. It’s almost painful, a cramp that starts in your lower abdomen and spreads upwards, leaving you clamping on him, panting and breathless and absolutely spent, his name on your lips like you're chanting it. Through it all, he continues to speak to you in your ear. “That’s it, love, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl, you’re such a good fuckin’ girl for me.”
But the way Simon groans when he comes? You want it burned in your memory, the sound bouncing around your brain long after he’s gone. You want to hear it in your mind every time you touch yourself. Better yet, you want to hear it from his mouth when he comes for you, in you. The thought elevates you to a type of rapturous giddiness, an indescribably light feeling in your chest when you think about doing this with him again.
For the moment, though, you’re completely boneless, a fact he perceives clearly because he smacks your ass as he pulls out of you, and chuckles at your greedy whine.
“Now what?” you whisper a few moments later, whilst he’s in the middle of cleaning you both up and he freezes for millisecond.
“What do y’want to happen?”
“Erm. I haven’t…it’s not something I’ve thought about.” You laugh at the absurdity for a second. “I didn’t expect any of this.”
He sits on your chair (the same chair you’re going to have to sit on the next day while you work, pretending that he hadn’t just fucked you here) and he pulls you on to him so you’re straddling him. It takes a second, what with him manspreading, and you having to find some space to jam your legs between his thighs and the arms of the chair. He watches in amusement as you wriggle and get comfortable, and then uses a single finger to tip your chin up so he can look at you. “Hello, love,” he whispers.
“Hi.”
“Stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Simon, I don’t—”
“Shut the fuck up. Look at me. Give us a kiss.” You glare at him and he barks out a rare laugh, squeezing your cheeks together. “Stop thinking so much.”
“We could get in trouble,” you try to say, but he still doesn’t move his hands away.
“Don’t care, pet. I’ll tell the world myself.”
That shuts you up. You touch his lips, elated and in awe at the intimacy of doing this with him, being with him like this.
“Wish you’d just told me,” you say quietly. “We’d have had so much more time together. You’ve only got a week of your punishment left.” You roll your eyes. “You’re a fool, Simon.”
“Maybe,” he concedes. “Still got time though, love. Night’s still young.”
His eyes glow wickedly, gorgeously, when you ask if he wants to do it on Davis’ desk.
(You do end up doing it on Davis’ desk. As a bonus, you even end up blowing him while he leans against your boss’ desk.)
***
You wish you could say your life changes entirely and absolutely after that night, but it’s not quite like that. You’re still a data analyst for the government. You still work on a military base, surrounded by the fittest men and women you’ve ever seen. You still see Ghost around the base with MacTavish, arms crossed around his chest, legs planted apart, looking like his only cares in the world are to a) stand behind the Scot like a beefy bodyguard and b) look deliciously sexy while he does it.
There are some changes though. Davis puts in for a transfer after lunch on his first day back. You suspect that that cutie MacTavish has something to do with it (you made Simon promise not to interfere) but all parties deny involvement. Simon still tries to meet you for your smoke breaks sometimes, and you update him on the office gossip. He informs you that no one at your workplace drew the connection between Simon and Ghost, it was just his demeanour that kept them away. You find this hilarious for about two seconds before you realise that you probably lack crucial self-preservation skills if his demeanour made you horny instead of scared.
People in the office ask you about him sometimes, but you shrug it off good-naturedly, telling them that Simon’s a good friend, but it’s someone else you’re seeing. And when they see you walking funny and also hand in hand with the masked freak on base? Well. They’re too scared to ask any more questions.
***
A/N: Thank you so much for reading ♡ ♡
Taglist: @devcica || @kneelingshadowsalome || @tiredmetalenthusiast || @miyabilicious || @xintothewoodswegox || @almightywdm || @nrthple || @cassiecasluciluce || @glitterypirateduck || @ho3forghost || @ivymarquis
it's my birthday
I was gonna draw something but I got busy lol, might post it later, today or tomorrow
I literally only realized it was my birthday when someone told me and now I'm like "holy guacamole I really am older this is so strange"
boy why you so ○ ○
FANFIC ART YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY
⟟ love this fic sm seeing the fanart makes me so happy (⟟ did not write this fic or make the art)
ARTTTTTTT!!!!!
"[System Rebooting: Please stand by.]" @manofthepipis
Omg I had to make fannart for this. Aaah love the relationship between these two. It's nice to see the boys actually get along so have some of my favorite moments.
!["[System Rebooting: Please Stand By.]" @manofthepipis](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5f80c8abb7b3d82594aedbc3f7c437c4/d77af8349dc74682-cc/s500x750/515cb42c9db9cd0c4a564a1356962c3b7d7223ba.png)
I might've added the BG3 Art Book to my dnd assets stash
It's got stuff like the 5e players' handbook + 5e’s character sheet, several gm guides, critical role's explorer's guide to wildmount and candela obscura, baldur's gate and waterdeep city encounters, 101 potions and their effects, volo's guide to monsters, both of Xanathar's guides, a bunch of other encounters, one shots, class builds, and other fun stuff!!
Nov 11th edit! A big thank you to @rmbmedia and @feragon-dingbat for letting me add their collection's to mine, taking the stash from 100 to over 200 assets! There's now things like city of cats, guilds and orders, empire of the ghouls, and the deck of many things!!
If there's something you're looking for that I don't have, feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do! (if it's something from a small company I wait till it's been out for a bit before snagging it)
Mini Bugbo animation
Bugbo belongs to Bensilly on YouTube!