#I'm a ghost

[cosmicanemoia]

Lana Parilla promoting Regal will be the death of me.

[multifacetedjem]

[escapedaudios]

One if the few times anyone has recognized my voice IRL was when I only had like 1,500 subscribers and my girlfriend was listening to one of my audios (I think it was Misery) with no headphones and someone was like "Oh hey, you like Escaped Audios too?". She was almost going to say "yeah actually he's my boyfriend" but she was afraid it would make her look like a delulu fangirl, because what are the odds that she was actually my girlfriend.

Anyway, if the girl from the break room at the Orange Village Mall back in 2022 is reading this, hi! That was my girlfriend! Wasn't she beautiful? I'm so lucky to have her 🥰🥰🥰

[lynns-art-blog]

I need all the people and scammers that keep following me and sending asks to understand something I thought was fairly obvious: My blog is practically dead. I have 200-some odd followers, and none of them know I exist. I rarely ever post anything on here, and people rarely notice it. This blog does nothing, and I'm sorry to say that none of your asks for both money from me or to boost awareness of your blog are going to do anything but fall on deaf ears. This blog essentially does not exist. You'd have better luck going somewhere else

[myteavsricochet]

-

[ihatemakingusernames]

what's the best way to approach you in your dms as said potential feedee ? 👀

Uhhhmmmm treat me like a person? Don't be demanding. Maybe start a conversation first?

Oh and please for the love of love, write full sentences. I don't have time to decode things 😘

[sugar-spice-and-everything-dice]

I've reached the point where having a henchman following me around has become detrimental to my ability to walk through an entire dungeon completely unseen. They just blow my cover and destroy my strategy of sequestering monsters in rooms with doors they can't open.

[mimipunk]

The good thing about me being a ghost is that nobody gets to listen to my depressing views 👻

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

annual reminder not to feed the ghosts! yes I know it seems like a cute tradition, but these are wild spirits with specialized diets, and humans unintentionally cause serious havoc by interfering with their ectosystem

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[redkoi1]

Ask God personally:

I asked God: "Am I evil?" "Not very" and Biblically, 'Not very' is angelic at this point

[hansoeii]

Ghosts! 👻

[multifacetedjem]

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[ijltln]

hm. dont belong

[ave661]