scaredyspooks

[scaredyspooks]

My six for my actual name

Plus the first 4 that come up for Spooks 👻

@lilbardrhi @lostintransist @fishyvamp @awkward-fink

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

thanks @ghosts-and-blue-sweaters and @cbuttonduo for the tag!! <3

wow i’m obsessed with this and i feel it’s fairly accurate!!

tags (no pressure): @thewildballyntynesgrow @bronzetomatoes @cloverstellar @clingyduoapologist @seeking-elsewhither @thoughts-of-caly

[scaredyspooks]

[emerges from the dead]

ghoap angst? Ghost holds a lot of misplaced anger after mwiii - after Soap’s death.

He partially blames Price for ordering Johnny to step down when he had the shot. Hell, he even blames himself somehow for assuming his captain placed the same amount of confidence in Johnny than he did him.

If Price had just let him pull the fucking trigger, maybe he would still be here, alive, with him - in his arms.

But he’s not and they feel most empty. Simon tries to fill the gap with bourbon or throwing himself in whatever op he could get his hands on, even the riskier ones.

A part of him wishes it’d been him that day, muttering ‘why is it always the good ones’ to himself where no one can hear him spiral.

Simon is not suicidal in the way that most people think but he doesn’t see himself resisting the current if things were to go south on a mission.

Demi! 😘 remember you asked for this. @cafekitsune thanks for the dividers!

CW: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT Canon Johnny death, suicidal ideation (If you wonder about letting go and something bad ending it all for you or a car accident just taking you out? that does out as ideation I was shook when my therapist pointed out that I was suicidal as a teen because of that), canon style violance, Simon dies in the end.

AO3 | Masterlist

Minors beware, no sexual context but emotional violence abounds.

Trains screeched by on the metal tracks, brakes fighting for friction. They had made it down to the platform; now Johnny and his captain would need to disable the bomb before it took out the city above it.

“Red wire, got it.”

His captain’s gaze flicked. That was the only warning he got. That platform beneath the city would become his tomb. Johnny stood, hand already moving for his gun at Makarov’s appearance. He wasn’t fast enough.

Johnny watched, the flash of the muzzle pulling his eyes to the light. His soul screamed to look for Ghost, Simon, before his synapses could pass the message hand over hand that his time had come. No part of him wanted his last memory to be of anything but the man he loved so desperately and had never found the nerve to tell.

“Soap!” Captain Price called him, voice rough.

No part of him remembered the past or yearned for the future. The smell of the dank dust permeated his nose, throat. He wondered if they couldn’t get his body out, would the archaeologists of millennia to come be able to pinpoint his last breath based on the atoms in his lungs?

Eyes flicking open he rose, pulling his blade from its sheath on his thigh. Makarov stood over his captain, saying something the ringing in Johnny’s ears prevented him from hearing. Makarov took Johnny’s blade through the shoulder. The trauma from the previous shot slowed him. He was too slow. God dammit why was he always too slow? Makarov got him in an armbar, planted a boot in Price’s face, and fired his gun again.

Training from his youth, the chapel humming with the vibration of the organ, told him to call on a god he didn’t believe in. Maybe his mother would greet him at the gates before the angels escorted him to hell for his disbelief. No. It would pain her to see him dragged away from her peace.

The bullet whistled as it reached him, breaking the skin. It burned…until it didn’t.

There is a different sound to dead weight falling.

Babies losing balance and thumping into the floor had a certain lightness, expectant reverb in it. A drunk bumping into a wall as they stumbled home from the bar? The energy seemed to transfer back from the brick to propel them forward. But dead weight, life disconnected from flesh? It hits the ears like stone on stone, harsh and painful. Another train screeched by.

Johnny stood, chest heaving. With a slow twist, he saw his body, a discarded shell strewn on the unforgiving ground. He knew two things then; he was dead and there was an afterlife.

“Boy!”

His shoulders whipped him around to look at an older man he had never seen before. With thick tight curls and a hint of gray above the temples and glasses stood near Gaz who knelt. The shade of his brown skin was lost among the darkness but his firm glare could be seen clearly.

“Aye?” Johnny replied, hesitant and scared.

Funny how he didn’t feel scared before his body hit the ground without him.

“You know how to stop this thing?” The older man pointed down at the bomb, time ticking away relentlessly.

“Aye,” he said once more.

“Then get’cha ass over here and help him! I know less than jack about bombs.”

Moving is easier than it had been in life, almost as if gravity had less hold on him as a memory.

Johnny knelt next to his best friend, the abject horror staining Gaz’s face leaving trace marks on Johnny anywhere his eyes touched.

“What do I do?” he asked, glancing up at the man who still hovered.

“Talk to him, slap his hands if he tries to touch the wrong wire. Lord knows despite my efforts he sometimes only responds to a smack,” the last line being muttered told Johnny it was more self-commentary than a command for him. “Should have never let him leave being a cop, even if he did it for me.”

Johnny rested his head on Gaz’s shoulder. Later he would sit with the memory, puzzled how he didn’t sink right through his best friend.

“You got this Kyle. We’ve gone over this enough times in training and a way to win bets, you know what to do.” Johnny spoke to him, voice never ceasing switching from English to Gaelic and back. When he ran out of words for encouragement he began to hum, nursery songs from his mother, his sisters, and his gran all drifting back in snippets and memories. Every so often when he glanced up from Gaz’s shoulder he would see a woman, soft smile with crinkles around her eyes speaking softly in Price’s ear.

The seconds stretched until finally, finally, the device had been deactivated safely. Johnny lifted his head from Gaz’s shoulder. The older man stood watch, eyes settled back near where Johnny’s body lay.

Following the old man’s gaze he found Simon. Johnny stared at the man who weakly shook the empty husk. Simon knelt; knees one up one down as if he were proposing to a corpse. Johnny stood, compelled to his would-be lover by the ache in his chest.

The distance between them disappeared and Johnny lowered himself down next to one of Simon’s thick thighs. He wept. The darker spots flooding the mask told the story.

Johnny. Johnny, wake up. Johnny, you can’t stay there we need to go.

Simon’s mouth hadn’t moved but still, Johnny could hear the weak whimpering of a broken man. Rubbing his thumb across the eye black below Simon’s eyes did nothing to disturb the darkness or the tears. Johnny felt better for it anyway.

“He’s yours to care for now.” The old man stood closer now.

“What do you mean?” Johnny didn’t move his gaze.

“His mum left when you arrived, said to take care of him. You’ve been assigned to him. Tough task for these folks. But you know that since you were one till a few minutes ago as you were one.” The older man shambled over.

“What does that make me then, his guardian angel?” Johnny shot a disbelieving look up as the old-timer stopped next to him.

“If you like,” he inclined his head. “Name’s Cedric. Your gran said to be good. You prefer Soap, John, or Johnny?”

The brown of Simon’s eyes were the deepest pool of sadness Johnny had ever seen. That despondence is what chose his answer.

The three of them who had taken such care to get his body out of the underground had brought him home. The plot had been full, no room for even a small urn. They planned to set his ashes free into the sunset instead. Seemed a fitting end for someone who died meters below the earth.

“He was the best of us.” Price started. He, Ghost, and Gaz had stared at the horizon for nearing on twenty minutes.

Corrine snorted, “You weren’t the best. No one is in this field.”

Johnny whacked her with the back of his fingers. He had met Corrine after the men had made it to safety, she had been John Price’s little sister before she died in childhood. She stuck around, keeping her big brother from harm.

“Are funerals always this hokey from this side?” Johnny pulled his top lip between his teeth as he watched. Simon didn’t say a word, grief screaming in silence. He lifted the urn from the backpack at his feet, Gaz and Price each setting a hand on it.

“Always,” Cedric retorted.

Johnny stood between them, wind rushing off the water rustling his hair but not nipping him with its chill, as they watched what was as close to a funeral as he would get.

“Who dares wins,” Price pushed out a hard breath, “Sleep easy soldier.”

“See you down range brother,” Gaz offered his piece. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Rest in peace, Johnny.” Simon’s words continued on for Johnny’s knowing only as he upended the ashes into the wind. With enough luck, I’ll see you soon.

Johnny’s eyes didn’t leave Simon’s back as he voiced his next question. The lump in his throat had him coughing before he could speak.

“Do you ever get used to their thoughts seeping into your brain?”

“Not really,” Corrine shrugged, the motion in his side vision.

Cedric guffawed, “Wait till he runs into life-threatening trouble while trying to get laid, those are the worst.”

Corrine’s face lights up as she turns to Cedric, “Did I ever tell you about the time John nearly got caught as a teen?”

“The hell was he doing that nearly got him killed for getting it wet as a teen?” Cedric fired off, face full of frustrated confusion.

“Jesus Ghost, your guardian angel must be working overtime to get you out of those hairy situations time and again with only scratches,” Farah patted him on the shoulder as she passed him walking down the ramp of the plane.

I wish they wouldn’t.

The thought lifted off Simon and into Johnny’s ears like a shimmer of heat rising from the blacktop.

“Fooker if you don’t shape up soon, I’ll keel ye meself.”

“No one can understand your angry accent, Johnny,” Corrine chided him.

“He doesn’t need to understand to start acting right,” Johnny punched Simon’s head, angrier still when his fist passed through with nary a ruffle of fabric.

It had been a nasty surprise when Johnny found he could only touch the living in love and care. He cared about Simon, would beg for reincarnation for the chance to love him again. The bastard couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t suicidal. Na, Simon didn’t call it that. Hoping that a bullet would shift by degrees and end his constant pain was still ideation—calling into the void and pleading for a response.

This was the sixth mission he had taken since Johnny left his body where he hadn’t tried to keep himself safe. Fucker threw himself into the line of fire and walked away only because Johnny would fistfight the powers of the universe at large if it meant keeping Simon breathing.

Cedric had stayed back with Gaz wherever he would be right now. Corrine found Johnny glaring at ‘his Simon’ as she called him when John had come to check on his lieutenant. She rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, touch familiar. They watched as Simon snapped at John, stepping back from John’s attempt at comfort and guidance.

“He’ll get better soon,” she soothed at him with her words.

“And what if he doesn’t Corrine? What am I supposed to do then? He is killing himself!” Johnny flung a hand out to the man who limped into the hanger, waving off concern from every person he passed. “He won’t go to medical to get that wound in his leg checked out. What am I supposed to do the next time he acts like a…a..”

Instead of searching for a word, Johnny shouted his frustrations into the sky. He had to watch Simon devolve, each day taking a piece more of his love and casting it into the fire of grief. He fell to his knees, the gravel he landed on biting at him despite the incorporeal body.

“I would have given him my beating heart Corrine. I would have done anything for him, but he can’t find the will to keep living for me.”

His whisper escaped, broken and raw in the face of seeing Simon again too soon. Too damn soon.

“When I died John tried to follow.” The even tone belies the words.

“What happened?” Johnny’s eyes stare at the ground while he listens to her story.

“We had been playing at the creek. We had been told not to,” she chuckled lightly, “But what six-year-old wants to miss the waters being close enough to touch without getting dirty? The bank couldn’t support my weight and I ended up in fast-moving water. I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to get out. John went in after me, our dad saved him but my body made it to the next town before it was found.”

Johnny looked up at her, the wrinkles on her face and the womanly body she moved in did not match her death. He looked exactly like he did when Makarov’s bullet had ended him.

“Someone came and gave me a choice, to stay with my big brother and grow as he did or move on to paradise.” She glanced to the side as if called.

Turning to look with her Johnny found Price, a hand on Ghost’s shoulder firmly leading him away from the barracks and to medical.

“What about when he tried to follow?” Johnny’s voice escaped small, and ringed with tears.

Cedric stared at Simon, his nose scrunching the same way Gaz’s would.

“Tough bastard that one. He is so strong-willed that he won’t accept any of your gentle nudging. Have you hit him yet?”

Johnny stared at Simon, sucking back his fourth bourbon at the bar.

“Too mad every time I try, nothing sticks,” John admitted, love and rage twining like vines in his chest, constricting.

“Grab him when he’s asleep but not drunk. He’ll take the message as a dream but it’s better than letting him kill himself without trying everything you can,” Cedric patted Johnny on the shoulder before drifting across the bar to chat with another guardian angel. Seems everyone had one and while not everyone would be assigned to be one everyone who accepted the role had a strong tie to the living, and a desire to keep them safe.

Johnny had never experienced impotence like that of keeping the love of his life from trying to follow him into the grave.

Time moved differently being dead. It moved strangely in dreams though. Johnny knelt at Simon’s head as he lay in the bed, fingers interlaced and ankles crossed. A shirt that had to have lost all scent of Johnny covered the pillow in lieu of a case.

Letting his fingertips explore like he never had a chance in life Johnny memorized the scars that added to the story of his love. Johnny would walk through hell, to the edges of the universe and back, further even if that would take the weight of pain from Simon’s shoulders. He already resembled Atlas, the sky teetering across his broad shoulders. Laying a gentle kiss to Simon’s forehead Johnny slid into his dreams.

“Why is it always the good ones?” Simon asked to the nothing that surrounded him.

“Funny you assume I was good enough to save,” Johnny remarks as he steps next to Simon.

No mask prevents Johnny from seeing every twitch of emotion across Simon’s face.

“You were. Always.”

Walking with Simon, hands tucked together, eons passed.

A gentle tug, a chirp of a morning bird informed Johnny his time here neared an end.

“Simon,” he stopped, using the hand in his to pull the other man to a stop. “You need to live. Giving in to grief? If you die Si, who will save the world?”

“There isn’t a world worth saving without you in it.”

Ghosts must feel pain more acutely without bodies. Ten words and Simon had cracked his rib cage open and poured arctic waters over his heart.

Pulling his hand free from Simon’s Johnny took his face in both hands, pressing their lips together in a way not even his vicious masturbation fantasies could conjure up. Whispers of touch, as if he were kissing moonlight, Johnny infused each atom that passed his with love.

“Live a long life for me, Simon. Keep me waiting until white has stolen all the color from your hair. Let me take your hand in the old folks’ home and walk you to peace,” Johnny laid the words like flowers over a casket, drawing focus away from the dead below it.

Johnny thought Simon had finally found a ledge to cling to, something to grow against as he reached for the sun again.

Fucker always had to prove him wrong.

Simon stopped being so overtly careless with his life on missions. He even began talking to Price again, letting the older man draw him into laughing once or twice.

Death found Simon unprepared, his own knife slid between his ribs high in the mountains closer to the moon than the sea. Johnny took the blade in the heart with him, trying despite the lack of flesh, to stop the end from arriving.

The snow stole away Simon’s gasps.

“You were supposed to live!” Johnny reached down and grabbed Simon by the back of his shirt, hauling him out of his body before throwing him back to the trees that lined the path. “How could you not check that he was dead?!”

He didn’t care that he was shouting. He kept going.

“I needed you to live Simon! If you lived then my death wasn’t the reason you got careless.” Johnny swung on him.

Simon didn’t try and stop it, move, block, nothing. The wide hook caught him in the chin, sending him tumbling into the undisturbed snow. He held a hand to his jaw, staring at Johnny.

The love-twinned rage shook in Johnny’s chest. He sunk his boot into Simon’s chest until his legs shook and he fell. Knees bracketing Simon’s waist the tears started.

“Why Simon? Why?”

The raw, gasping wound of love painted the scene between them. Johnny couldn’t see past the tears and the heaving sobs that racked him.

“I missed you, Johnny,” Simon’s voice, tender and raw, preceded the hand that reached.

Fingertips brushing against the permanent stubble on Johnny’s cheek sent him crashing down. The dead men wept, for each other, themselves, and everyone they left behind.

If the dead find peace, it is not while the living roam.

[scaredyspooks]

Found several packs' worth of pokemon cards strewn across a target parking lot and took a pic to show my friends without realizing how much my outfit elevated the scene to "aftermath of a wizard duel"

[scaredyspooks]

Barry Sloane as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017).

[scaredyspooks]

CoD Discord Community Server

Hi there! Are you a CoD content creator, fan, or roleplayer that wants to go to one place to interact with creators, fans, and roleplayers alike? Well, dang, do I have something for you!

Who is this server for? Anyone in the Call of Duty fandom! Whether you're creating content (fics or art), a fan of the content creators, or a Call of Duty character or original character roleplayer, we welcome you with open arms!

I will note now that this is an 18+ server! Minors will not be allowed past the verification process. If you are found to be a minor who lied to get through verification, you will be banned indefinitely.

The CoD Chokehold Discord community server was created by a group of friends and I. It started as the growth of our group chat, but quickly progressed into a community server.

Tumblr, while I love it, doesn't have group chat options and sometimes following roleplaying reblogs gives me a headache. My solution? This server!

The purpose of this server is not only to connect content creators and their followers in a more simplified social space, but also to support each other! We have people willing to beta read, people willing to "hype" when you're feeling down, and a section for casual roleplaying.

As the title of this post suggests, this is a Discord server - specifically a "community" Discord server. It does require a Discord account to use.

Shoot me or Spooks ( @scaredyspooks ) a private message and we'll get you an invite link! For now, we're keeping it as invite only as it is a smaller community.

You're welcome to message me or Spooks (mentioned above) any time about the server and we'll get with you as soon as possible! As for when you have access to the server (almost the entire server is private at first), all we need is to verify that you are not a minor and get you a small introduction to your first steps in the server then you'll be in!

[scaredyspooks]

IMPORTANT INFO

hi everyone.

still on hiatus from posting but i wanted to make a post here clarifying some information.

1. i wanted to thank everyone who reached out to me via ask or dm over the past few days. it has been a huge influx of support not only in agreement to my opinion, but in support of my blog. i see each of you and i thank you.

2. i am still getting influxes of hate in my ask box. i do not want to close my ask box or turn off anon. i respect the anonymity of those sending lovely messages. the hate in my ask box is being deleted as soon as it comes in.

3. after some research and time to really look at the situation. i have come to my personal conclusion on who i think was sending me hate. i sent them a message this morning. HOWEVER. they are STILL talking about me on their side blog AND made an extremely untasteful 1500 word post about me in her main blog that she very quickly took down. i still saw it. and it’s funny how your writing style matched the majority of hateful comments i was receiving. that person is @ask-philgraves or @niresenrab . the rp community and especially @franabz needs to check their own IMMEDIATELY. as this person is going around acting like they are a savior to the rp community, when in reality they are the ones perpetuating the hate. she will claim it’s not true, but i wholeheartedly believe it is cassie.

4. i am unsure about returning officially. i am unsure when. i am unsure of how often i will post. i am still juggling with deactivating since i am still getting hate, the most recent being from last night.

5. i have blocked all of the rp accounts, as well as the majority of their main accounts. since i seem to be a hot topic in their community still, i am not allowing them to have access to me at all.

6. to those who shared the same opinion i did, and WOW it’s the majority of ppl in this fandom it seems, my best advice is to block the rp accounts you come across. any criticism you have towards them, they take as a personal attack towards them. to me if screams immature and childish, and so does sending hate to ppl who differ in opinion. it’s best to steer clear of any accounts who share the sentiment that they are the victims while they are actually the ones spreading hate.

7. this account is a space of love and happiness. i am allowed to share my opinions. some of you, rp blogs specifically, need to learn media literacy and also go touch grass. i fear you scream unemployed loser. this is a hate-free zone, as long as you don’t fuck with me. that’s being said, if ANYONE shares their opinion and rp blogs take offense to it, come speak to me. the rp community is toxic and can stay on their side of the fandom.

[scaredyspooks]

johnny who doesn't forget about you after he's brought back, but simply remembers things just a little bit wrong.

it's the middle of the night when simon comes to get you. he doesn't apologize for waking you when you crack open the door to your room because he knows you've been having trouble sleeping since johnny was shot. just blurts out that johnny is awake. alive. "he's askin' for you."

before you know it you're speed walking behind simon towards the medbay, cursing his long legs for carrying him so fast. he rounds corner after corner with you on his heels before stopping in front of a door. there's no name on the nametag. you assume he's going to reach for the door handle, but he lets out a deep breath and turns back towards you. "y'should really speak to price before you see him. wait here."

frustration bubbles up in your chest as simon vanishes around the corner. it's been almost a week since johnny was rushed off the helipad by the largest group of medics you'd ever seen for just one person. almost a week of no news, no information on his status, no way of knowing if he was beyond saving or just a step away from recovery. it was truly maddening.

price had been no help, although by the look on his face the many times you had questioned him he didn't know much more than you did. he looked just as tired, just as haunted. he's alive, price had grumbled while staring out his office window, cigar gripped a bit too tightly to be casual. that's all that matters.

it is all that matters, you think to yourself as you bounce on your heels outside johnny's room. its only been three minutes since simon went to fetch price, but as every moment passes your resolve starts to splinter. johnny is right behind that door. asking for you.

you've been desperate to see him. to simply watch him breathe, if anything. since the day you stepped foot on base, he'd bonded to your side like cement - much to your annoyance at first - and had stayed there ever since. within a few months you had to admit that he had officially earned his title as your best friend, again, much to your annoyance. johnny seemed to have a way of worming into people's lives with his charming smiles and thoughtful actions even if they didn't exactly want him to, simon was proof of that. it had been too long without him.

fuck waiting.

you had half expected some kind of code to get in considering the way they'd been keeping his condition under wraps, but the door swings open easily. the room is quiet except for the monotonous beeping of a heart monitor. a single light next to the bed casts a soft glow across the room, illuminating iv poles that almost look as if they're standing guard over their patient - the patient who cracks his eyes open and offers a sleepy yet devastating smile.

"there she is."

a sob threatens to spill out as you stride across the room to the side of the bed, johnny's eyes locked onto you as you move toward him. his smile is one of relief, as if he's the one leaning over your hospital bed to babble about how happy he is you're alive. he looks paler than usual, but you chalk that up to having been stuck in his little fluorescent corner for the past week. there's a bandage on the left side of his head, obscuring the wound that had nearly taken his life. you'd expected him to look different, delicate, perhaps even weak, but the man in front of you looked no worse off than having had a bad case of the common cold. of course johnny would cheat death and still come out looking no worse for wear.

"johnny," you whisper, his name coming out broken and weak. he grins - of course he would, mischief dancing in his eyes even while sitting in a hospital bed - and reaches his hand out to you. there's a slight shake to it as it lingers in the air before your fingers lace with his, pulling johnny's hand to your chest. there's an all too familiar burn behind your eyes, one you don't even notice until johnny tuts, raising his other hand to wipe the hot tears from under your lashes. his touch is calloused yet so familiar.

"stop your cryin' bonnie. m'here." johnny's hand cups the back of your head, pulling you towards his chest. it's all so much, his voice, his touch, the ever comforting smell of johnny on his hospital gown. his arms wrap around you, tugging you up to climb into the bed beside him. he presses your face into his chest, kissing the top of your head. well. that's new.

"you're alive."

"what gave it away?" johnny laughs as you lightly punch his side and the sound makes you feel dizzy. there had been a few days where you had doubted you'd ever hear it again. "don't be pulling your punches on me now, love. if i wasn't bulletproof before i sure am now."

"oh, shut up." johnny's arm releases from around your waist and you take the opportunity to sit up, examining his face. the crinkles around his eyes, the faded scar jutting across his chin. the sight of him feels so safe and familiar, and for the first time in almost a week you feel the icy tendrils of fear start to melt from your bones. a warm and calloused hand rests on your arm, his thumb rubbing light circles across your skin. "i don't know how they did what they did," you sniffle, fidgeting with the edge of his blanket, "but i'm so fucking happy you're alive. i didn't know what to do, they wouldn't tell me a thing, and when i saw you on that gurney - "

"hey." johnny's voice is softer than you've ever heard. his hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you blink back at him in surprise. he touches your face gently, seemingly mapping it out with his eyes and fingers as if he's trying to burn the sight into his brain. you've been up close and personal with johnny more times than you could count, squeezed into the backs of trucks and squished impossibly close in pub booths, but he's never looked at you like this. like he was worried he'd never see you again, like it had been all he was waiting for.

something has definitely changed.

"i'm here now, and i've no plans of goin' anywhere anytime soon." johnny's eyes fall to where his other hand clasps yours, twisting his wrist so that the back of your hand faces upwards. a hum rumbles in his throat and he smiles, an almost lovesick smile that makes your stomach drop. "been thinking since i woke up," he says quietly. "and i don't want to wait anymore. it's time."

unease curls in your stomach, simon's earlier warning suddenly echoing like a siren in your mind. you should really speak to price before you see him. johnny doesn't seem to notice the gears turning in your mind as he continues trailing his fingers over your skin, watching the goosebumps raise along your arm intently. he moves down to your hand, your wrist still gripped in his, and pauses ever so slightly as his touch passes over the top of your empty ring finger. "time for what, johnny?" you ask slowly, carefully, gaze fixed on his dreamy expression.

cobalt eyes rise to meet yours. the corners of his mouth lift into a tender smile. "to get married, love."

your mouth goes dry. it feels as though he's knocked the wind out of you, the words slowly sinking into your bones like heat from a fireplace. to get married. to get married. to get married. the shock must be evident on your face, because johnny coos and cups the back of your head, tugging you face first into his chest once more. you're frozen, disbelief and confusion clouding your thoughts like smoke, and you shiver as johnny begins to stroke your hair and mumble quietly about making good on all his promises. "johnny," you stammer out, your voice muffled slightly by his hospital gown. "you know who i am, right? we're not - "

he scoffs, chuckling at you as if you're the one being silly. "of course i know who you are, love. could never forget you, no matter what happens to me." he ignores the way you shake your head at him, concern etching your brow as you sit up. "and i know, i know, we're not even living together yet, but don't worry. price was here earlier and i've already started working on charming him into giving us private quarters. might have to bend a few rules, but you know how good i am at that, don't you love?"

the sound of the door swinging open makes you jump in your seat. price strides purposefully into the room, simon in close step behind him. he stops abruptly when he spots you seated next to johnny, his mouth flattening into a straight line. "i see you got your visitor," he says lowly. he's speaking to johnny, but his eyes don't leave yours. something flashes behind them - concern?

no. a warning.

johnny doesn't acknowledge the unspoken conversation currently taking place in front of him. he continues absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin, grinning at the two men as if he's won the lottery. "and she was worth every second of the wait, sir."

"she couldn't stand to wait either, it seems." price's voice carries no malice, only what sounds like resignation. a chill slithers its way into your bones as your eyes bounce back and forth between your captain and lieutenant. simon stands wordlessly behind price wearing his usual indifferent glare, but his body language is indescribably off. there's tension in his shoulders, a guardedness you've never seen from him, at least not in the company you're currently in. price has never looked so utterly uneasy, his weight shifting from his left foot to his right. he drags a calloused hand over his face before taking a few steps forward, his hands resting on his hips. you barely register the feeling of johnny's lips pressing against your hand, too focused on the look of pure pity price is sending you.

what now? help me, your eyes plead.

the only response you get is an ill-boding sigh. "i really wish you'd listened to simon."

a/n: this is me hitting the post button and then flinging my laptop across the room and running away bc im nervous - hello hello! this has been in my drafts for 74 years and i'm not sure if i hate the way i ended this, i'm sorry if it feels a bit rushed. the concept of johnny coming back wrong makes my brain go brrrrr i'd like to do a part two if anyone is interested! i hope everyone is having a lovely day (despite, yknow...everything)

[scaredyspooks]

I feel like a lot of people have forgotten internet etiquette lately, so here's just a list of things to keep in mind.

If you don't like someone's content, block them.

If you don't like a specific genre of content, do not interact with it.

If you do not like a person, scroll past their account.

You do not have the right to dictate what other people do on their own tumblr accounts.

You do not get to tell people that their content is not wanted.

You do not get to tell someone not to do something because said thing already exists.

If you are being harassed by anonymous ask bots, then turn off the option to be anonymous or turn off asks completely.

Posting anonymous hate is for cowards.

Fat shaming is for cowards

Trans/Homophobia is for cowards.

Someone doesn't have to hide their content in a community just because you don't like it.

Sometimes it's best to keep your opinions to yourselves.

[scaredyspooks]

thank you SO much for sending your calvary after me! woke up this morning to multiple death threats, degrading language, and good ole fatphobia! i understand that you may be upset that i had a critique of something y’all do. however, i never once said to pack up your shit and leave. i said to to take it to a community. i may as well have said to pack your shit and leave bc that is how every single one of you took that. all thanks to y’all, i don’t even have any interest writing for this fandom anymore. thank you SOOOOOO much for taking one of the small piece of space i had in this fandom and squashing it. and thank you SOOOO much for actually tanking my mental health. i was doing so well this year. i’m halting my page indefinitely so y’all win!!!! i hope your so proud and happy for yourselves.

(i never once asked my own people to be attacking you like this. all i've done was spread awareness about what has been going on and the fact it has gotten this out of hand is making me so unimaginably upset. i've listened to your wishes for a community tab and i made it because i understood and realized just how out of hand this has been getting.)

(i never ment for this to happen, and i never sent anybody against you.)

(i'm so sorry.)

[scaredyspooks]

Dreams.

Neighbours Chapter 9 (Stalker!König x Reader).

AO3 (Chapter also below cut-off ♡)

Tags: @backseatsoldier

‘Due to recent complaints of suspicious individuals in the building, we have decided to no longer allow overnight guests who do not have a residence at Maple Views. - Building Manager’

That was the note you found slid under your door this morning. It seemed a bit… random. You hadn’t noticed anyone strange hanging about the building, but then again there were a good few floors. Maybe there had been some weirdos knocking about. You lift the note, and stash it on the shelves beside your front door, before flopping down on your sofa and starting to work. As per usual, meaningless meetings.

——————————————————————————————————

It was a boring day for you, but not for König. He got to watch you again, going about your cute little life. Working, drinking your tea, making your snacks… God, you were adorable.

In his dreams tonight though… You’re far from cute.

You’re a temptress. A nymph. Scampering down the corridors of his old base, in your lacy little night dress, giggling and grinning impishly as you look over your shoulder at him, beckoning him closer and closer, while somehow moving further and further away. He reaches out, and he feels the tickle of the breeze from your skirt, and you’re out of his grasp.

He reaches out again, his calloused fingers graze along the lace on your waist.

Again. Again. Again. Every damn time he misses, you slip just out of reach, he can feel the thick ball of frustration growing in his throat, his heart racing, his blood pumping, his breaths heaving and finally he catches you.

His fist tangles in your hair, ripping you back into his arms as you scream out in agony, and when you look at him he’s all teeth, all grin. He wraps his arms around you, one large paw spread across the small of your back, the other still desperately buried in your hair, as if letting go would make you vanish from his hold again. You’re twisting, giggling, squirming in his arms as if his every touch is tickling you. Finally, he grips you just right to hold you still, your hair wrenched in his hand so you can’t turn away, and he leans in, slower and slower, the treacle air of his dream sealing him as his heart beats faster, his breaths get shallower, and as he feels the heat of your breath on his lips, he’s so, so close.

His eyes open. Gods, he could break something. He was so close. He nearly felt your lips, even if it wasn’t real, and something stole that from him- Oh no. That’s what stole it from him… He shifts slightly, letting out a frustrated groan as he feels the cold stickiness in his boxers. Jesus Christ, you’ve turned him into a horny teenager… A wet dream? A wet fucking dream?! He’s a retired soldier, not some pubescent virgin! You need to be put in your place. You need to be shown that you can’t do this to him. This can’t happen again.

But even as he squirms in the embarrassment of it, there’s something… Thrilling about it. Even in his sleep, you find your way into his soul to nestle in and bring him pleasure. So eine gute kleine Feldmaus.

[scaredyspooks]

Look at this goddamn sweetheart

CoD Chokehold Discord Call of Duty fans discord +18 Fanfic - fanart - roleplaying - chitchat and more! To join please contact @backseatsoldier

[scaredyspooks]

[scaredyspooks]

Love, and it’s teeth {prologue}

Dark au -> gourmand cannibal!Price x reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism, stalking {will update as I go}

not edited - 1000 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Price, for all intents and purposes had not meant to engage in Internet forums on the topic of cannibalism. He would sooner paint a bright red target on his back accompanied by the words ‘I eat people’- and yet, something about the way you defended ‘cannibalism as a metaphor for love’ with your whole chest had piqued his interest.

‘It’s a load of shite, love.’ he typed out simply in response to your post, blunt thumb jamming the send button on his touch screen. His phone buzzed almost instantly with your response.

‘lol, don’t call me love. Just say you lack whimsy and move on 😭 anyways I’m not arguing with an old British man, ‘JohnP1977’’

He scoffed, shoulder bulk shaking as he pawed at his jaw incredulously. He spent the next few minutes typing and deleting as he puffed on one of his cigars; every response coming off far too incriminating. He finally settled for tapping your icon to snoop around your profile, there was no discernible personal information at a glance aside from the fact that you were an adult, but digging into your media tab rewarded his diligence well. There you sat on your bed, oot’d? ooted? Whatever that meant. He grinned, double tapping on the photo.

Like clockwork, his phone buzzed in his hand- a direct message popping up. He smiled, languid and knowing. ‘creep 👎’ was all the message said. ‘Just showing you how whimsical I can get x.’ He responded.

Your typing bubble popped up and subsequently disappeared in a seemingly infinite loop. ‘fine’ you finally sent. ‘what do you have against cannibalism being used as a metaphor for love?’

You- all too cozy in your bed, watched your screen with your lip drawn up past your teeth. ‘Nothing, love.’ He acquiesced ‘Just not realistic, that’s all.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘ok? not exactly going for realism here, buddy’

‘Buddy? We’re friends now? What’s your name, love? Since we’re buddies and all.’

You bit out a weak laugh at his gall. ‘you sound like a serial killer’

‘Would that be okay if I was doing it as a metaphor for love? x’

-

You hadn’t thought much about that man with the blank profile since blocking him after he had spammed you with likes, notably on pictures with places you frequented as the subject. It had freaked you out enough to make you deep clean your little personal account and set to private. The right choice, evidently, seeing as a few blank profiles had requested to follow you before he had finally given up. Soon, over a month had passed since you had resolved not to visit your favourite- that fact well-documented, local bar due to the aforementioned string of incidents.

As luck would have it, this seemed to be a good choice, burnt toast theory or whatever you wanted to sum it up to. It was all over news and radio in your town, two patrons, a man and a woman, had gone missing right after leaving in an unmarked ride share. Reports had suggested that they had gotten into the wrong car and local officials spoke about the possibility of a curfew and urged towards the use of established taxi services and public transportation for those getting around.

You currently sat back at that same bar, a bleeding heart for the poor owners that had lamented in a local social media group about the winter business they relied on to pay the ever-increasing bills all but dying out, putting them out a good chunk of money since investing in higher quality security measures in hopes of instilling greater public trust. You watched the blurry, soundless released cctv footage play on the news between sports game coverage as you sipped on your drink, eyes flitting between the yellowed flatscreen and a group running a trivia night. You sighed, taking another sip as you overheard someone beside you talking about how this whole disaster had been great for his cab business, likening it to a boon.

“Christ, have some respect.” A deep voice grumbled from your other side, causing your head to rip to the new stranger being dismissively jeered at by the offending party. A bearded man had somehow silently slotted himself into the seat to your right without alerting you. Catching his gaze, his eyes appraised you for a moment before he tutted and shook his head. “Distasteful lot they are.” He hissed, “Don’t even know if they’re gone yet.” You huffed out a quiet breath and nodded in response, not too keen on being cordial. His voice carried a proper British lilt, the accent a reminder of your short-lived cyber stalker. “This town always so crass?”

You sniffed and looked back, shrugging. “Maybe, dunno.” You mumbled. Something about this guy gave you the creeps. He was handsome enough, older, well kept, and filling out his wool-lined Levi’s jacket like it had been tailored around his body specifically, but there was something in the way you caught him licking at his teeth and gums out of the corner of your vision- the smile you could make out as he watched the news pop up once more, it twisted your gut- made you feel like it was a mistake coming here.

“Can I grab my tab?” You spoke, flagging down the bartender that you had caught making eyes at the patron beside you. She smiled and nodded, and you desperately wished her face would have hinted that she had caught the same vibes from him that you had, something to make you feel like you weren’t reading into it or making things up. “Leaving?” The man asked as you grabbed your winter coat. You nodded, causing him to dive into his pocket for a well worn wallet, treated hide of some sort. “Let me, love.”

You nodded, the less you’d have to talk to him the better and something told you that he wouldn’t drop it if you had refused, anyway. “Thanks.” You breathed. “Have a nice night.” See you never, hopefully.

“Get home safe.” He replied, grinning with teeth.

[scaredyspooks]

He Knows What You Need (Pt 2)

Alejandro x reader again bc I couldn't help myself (18+, PinV, in your quarters now oooo.)

Before you knew what was happening, he was in your quarters, your blouse, skirt and stockings scattered across the floor joined by his shirt and tactical pants, an utter mess strewn through your room. On your back, his large hands wrapped around your thighs, hooked under your knees, folding you in half and spreading you open. You wondered how the hell he was breathing down there, you hadn’t felt him come up for breath once, just relentlessly feasting on you. The evidence of every edge he’d pushed you over soaking his chin.

Each he got you there, with you panting beneath him, his rough palms run over your muscles, flipping you onto your front to feel over your shoulders, a soft tut escaping him.

“Still so tense, cariño…” His tone was almost mocking, and you knew he was more than happy that you weren’t fully unwound yet, that he got to keep working you.

This all happened so quickly, but deep down you knew it was bound to happen. Every time your eyes met throughout the day, you felt it. That nervous twist in your stomach, that hot tickle at the back of your neck, the way your breathing suddenly felt a lot more obvious. You couldn’t deny it, you wanted this man the moment you saw him at the coffee machine. And Christ, when he looked up and grinned like the Cheshire Cat when he caught you staring, you nearly melted into a damn puddle. It was no wonder he got you here, sobbing out needy moans of his name into your bedding.

Finally, after hours of overstimulation, he had you exactly how he wanted you. Limp, utterly spent, drooling into your pillow and laying prone beneath him, your spare pillow tucked under your hips, his nails trailing down your back until they reached the soft, plump cheeks of your arse, his fingers and thumbs digging in, kneading, spreading for his own greedy gaze. Gods, you were a mess down there by that point… Thighs glistening and trembling, skin covered in goosebumps, and without warning he thrust in to the hilt, a loud groan falling from his lips as his head fell forwards.

One hand on the small of your back, the other’s fingers tangled in your hair as he held your head down, and he took you at his own pace. Rough, hard, fast - the anticipation he’d built himself brick by brick welcoming him like a chapel to the deity he’d made of you in his mind. All you could do was whimper, too exhausted for anything louder, until his swollen tip started to kiss at your cervix with every thrust, guttural moans you didn’t think yourself capable of soaking into the downy plush beneath your head.

“Muy bien por mí, cariño… T-tan jodidamente bueno- Mierda- A-ah…” You could feel his hips stuttering, his thick cock twitching more and more in your depths, as your walls tightened and clenched, almost in a battle to keep him still. His fingers dug in, a bruising pain in your back and a sharp sting as he tugged on your hair, unable to control his grip as he buried himself in you one final time, letting out a desperate groan that broke away into breathless laughter once you’d felt him, finally felt him, let go and fill you, the warmth of his spend leaving you sated and comfortable, thankful for him staying entangled with you as he collapsed against your back, pressing wet, hot kisses to your neck and shoulders, his own body just as limp as yours.

[scaredyspooks]

Too Sweet (CoD HC) - NSFW Version

Inspired by Hozier's Too Sweet (Spotify link)

Why does Simon "Ghost" Riley think you're too sweet for him?

Content Warnings: NSFW; MDNI 18+; definitely Smut Lite; also a bit of fluffy cuteness (I wouldn't be me without it)

What about you isn't the sweetest he's ever tasted? Sweetest he's ever felt? You fill this man's sense with the sweetest things he's ever had.

Touch

The way your gentle hands slide over his various scars like he's the most precious thing you've ever held. How you hold him and cling to him when he's giving you all he's worth, fucking you into the mattress.

If it were up to him, he'd never be out of your arms. Or your delicious and soaked pussy.

Smell

Bloody hell...

The first time he used your thighs as ear muffs that was all he could think of. That and how badly he could happily die there, surrounded by your smell.

For a bit, he didn't even really touch you - besides his hands clutching your thighs to hold you in place. When you squrimed nervously? That is when he allowed himself a taste.

Taste

Like warm honey or the sweetest candy he'd ever had. He tried to focus on the task at hand (preparing you for his thick cock), he promises, luv. But fuck, if it didn't take all of his effort to not just run his tongue over you repeatedly for a while, dipping in every once in a while just to taste your honey straight from the source.

Simon's not one to get so lost in tasting a woman's sweet pussy. But you? You're nothing like he's ever had before...

Sight

What about the way you look isn't sweet? From the way you look up at him adoringly to when your eyes are locked on his, mouth open just a bit, as he pushes into you for the first (of many) time that night. He can't get enough, he'll never get enough, and he never wants to "get enough". He wants to drown in all of your sweet expressions, always.

Sound

"Honeyed words" doesn't even come close to how he would describe your voice and the way you talk to him. You moaning? Man's lost, he's gone.

Crying out for him while he's pounding into you, arms drapped over his shoulders? Simon's gotta focus on not coming right then and there. There's no better sound in the world to him (not until you tell him you love him, at least).

"Pussy so good, you're in love?" - That's not even the half of it. Every part of you is so sweet that he's addicted and will never get enough. Yeah, maybe he's ready to put a ring on your finger. So what if he's never thought of himself as the marrying kind?

Masterlist

[scaredyspooks]

Oh my god I'm not okay Also everyone say thank you to the person who's started my Ale obsession

carlos x alejandro: carlos tying up alejandro and edging him up until he begs to be fucked.

The hideout was unbearably tense. Alejandro’s sharp commands echoed like bullets in the silence, and Carlos had reached his breaking point. “You need to reinforce that damn door!” Alejandro barked, pacing with deliberate intensity. “If something heavy hits it we’re dead!”

Carlos leaned casually against the table, his smirk tight. “The door’s fine, capitán. Maybe you should try relaxing for once instead of riding my ass.”

Alejandro spun, his glare cutting. “Worrying keeps us alive, Oliveira. If you stopped acting like this was a damn joke—”

Carlos laughed, low and sharp, as he stepped closer. “I’ve been covering your ass all day while you act like you’re running a boot camp. Maybe you’re the joke.”

Alejandro moved closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “Someone has to keep you in check. You’re reckless.”

Carlos’s grin his voice thick with amusement. “You just love giving orders, don’t you? Acting like you’re in control.”

Before Alejandro could respond, Carlos grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. Alejandro grunted, caught off guard, as Carlos shoved him against the table and snapped handcuffs into place.

“What the fuck, Oliveira?!” Alejandro barked, struggling in the cuffs.

Carlos spun him around, pulling him down onto his lap in one swift motion. Alejandro stiffened, his thighs straddling Carlos’s, their bodies flush. “You’ve been pissing me off all day!” Carlos muttered, gripping Alejandro’s hips tightly. “Now it’s my turn to take control!!”

Alejandro’s breath hitched as he squirmed, trying to pull away, but the motion only ground him harder against Carlos’s hard length. His face flushed as he froze, realizing the effect he’d had.

“Feel that?” Carlos whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed Alejandro’s ear. “That’s all you, capitán. You’ve been driving me crazy all day.”

“Let me go!” Alejandro snapped, his voice sharp but trembling slightly.

Carlos chuckled, rocking his hips up just enough to press against him. “You can fight all you want. I could do this all night.”

“You’ll get nothing from me!” Alejandro snapped, his jaw clenching as he fought against the growing tension in his body.

Carlos grinned, dragging his lips along Alejandro’s neck. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below Alejandro’s ear, and the reaction was instant—a sharp inhale, a shudder that Alejandro couldn’t hide. “There it is..” Carlos muttered, his grin widening. “Your neck’s sensitive, huh? Let’s see how much more I can pull out of you.”

Alejandro bit back a noise, twisting in the cuffs, but his body betrayed him with another faint shiver when Carlos pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck. “Carlos…” Alejandro’s warning came out shaky.

Carlos smirked, dragging his hand between them to press against the bulge in Alejandro’s pants. The heat and hardness under his palm made Carlos groan. “You’re already this hard, capitán..” Carlos whispered, his voice rough with arousal. “And you still think you’re in control?”

Alejandro dropped his head forward, burying it in the crook of Carlos’s neck. His warm breath fanned across Carlos’s skin, shaky and uneven.

“Hiding now?” Carlos murmured, his cock twitching at the soft, desperate sound that slipped from Alejandro’s lips. “God, you’re killing me.” He slipped his hand into Alejandro’s waistband, tugging his pants down. Alejandro gasped sharply as his flushed, leaking cock was exposed to the cool air. Carlos groaned at the sight, wrapping his hand around him and stroking slowly. “You’re perfect like this..” he muttered, his other hand sliding lower to tease Alejandro’s entrance.

Alejandro stiffened, his breath hitching as Carlos’s fingers pressed gently.

“Relax..” Carlos whispered, his voice softer but teasing. “give in to me.”

Alejandro whimpered as the first finger slid in, the stretch making him tremble.

“You’re so damn tight..” Carlos groaned, his breath hot against Alejandro’s ear. “I can feel you clenching around me.”

Alejandro whimpered again, his hips jerking forward into Carlos’s hand as he struggled to hold back.

Carlos chuckled, sliding in a second finger, scissoring him open with deliberate slowness. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and smug. “I can feel you shaking. You’re desperate for it.”

Alejandro growled softly, his pride warring with the pleasure wracking his body. “Carlos… stop playing.”

Carlos withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the head of his cock, pressing just enough to stretch Alejandro further. “Beg for it..” Carlos commanded, his voice rough. “I want to hear you.”

Alejandro’s breath hitched, his pride flaring despite the overwhelming heat pooling in his stomach. “Never...” he bit out, but his voice trembled.

Carlos smirked, rocking his hips slightly, teasing the sensitive ring. “Oh, I’ve got time, capitán. I told you I could do this all night.”

Alejandro shuddered, his head still buried in Carlos’s neck. Each slow, deliberate press of Carlos’s cock pushed him closer to the edge, and the tension in his body finally cracked. “Carlos…” Alejandro’s voice broke, soft and muffled against Carlos’s shoulder. “Por favor…”

Carlos groaned, gripping Alejandro’s hips tightly. “Say it again..” he growled, pushing in just a little deeper. "louder!"

Alejandro gasped, his voice raw and desperate. “Por favor… Carlos… porfavor, I can’t…”

Carlos grinned, finally pushing in fully, stretching Alejandro inch by inch. “That’s it Ale” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. “Keep going I hear you..” He said as he thrusted his cock balls deep making the colonel break into moans and pleas.

[scaredyspooks]

He Knows What You Need.

Alejandro x Reader hehehe (18+, PinV, doin' it in your office.)

As an intelligence operative for the 141, you were used to working closely with Price and his men. They were all nice enough to you, of course Soap occasionally teasing you, Price treating you like a child unless he was drunk, Gaz being generally friendly, and Ghost greeting and bidding you goodbye with a grunt. You were pretty sure that was a good sign, but honestly who knows.

It didn’t matter how used to them you were, though, as when they started working closely Los Vaqueros, you were introduced to whole new… Issue. Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

An easy smile, a quirked brow, a knowing glint in his eyes. It was like he could see into your soul - or maybe the bastard’s ego was just that big that he assumed everyone wanted him the second he smirked at them. You could see that being accurate.

The first briefing you lead, talking through the intel you’d gathered, the connections it held, and how it could prove vital to the current mission - you noticed it. His eyes were constantly on you. Not in a focused, listening intently way - it was like any time you moved, his gaze glued to whatever gave the most motion. Your lips as you spoke, your legs as you walked, your hands as you gestured, your arse when you bent down to pick up the next file.

It didn’t take long until he had you in your office, desperately clawing at the edge of your desk, two of his fingers thrusting into your mouth, keeping you muffled as he leaned over you, his hips pistoning brutally as his other hand held you still, thumb digging into the fat of your waist. You’d never been with someone so vocal, his lips in constant contact with that sweet spot he’d found at the side of your neck and refused to leave alone since. His heavy breaths, fanning against your sweltering skin, grunts, growls, sweet, filthy words, and the occasional heavenly groan. God, every time he let a moan slip past those lips you felt your whole body shiver, your walls fluttering around him, and without fail every time it made him chuckle like the smug idiot he was.

It really didn’t help that he was just constantly praising you, how good you were taking him, how tight you were, how fucking wet you were for him, so needy, he’d known you needed this from the moment he saw you. All wound up, overworked, under-fucked, he saw right through you. Knew the exact treatment you needed. And this was only a taste. He vowed to get all that tension out of your pent up body, promised he’d leave you soft, pliant, so fucked out that you wouldn’t be able to think about anything at all, never mind work. Just him. And you believed him, because god he’d already turned off your thoughts. The moment he’d backed you against your desk and confidently trailed his hand under your waistband, teasing with that low purr of a voice, your brain had switched off.

And now look at you, just a drooling, thoughtless, mewling mess. Spread so nicely for him, arching and keening for him, and when he finally felt your body pull taut, felt you starting to spasm and grip him like a vice - the fucker sped up. Harder, faster, two rough fingers finding your clit, pulling, tugging, circling until that coil in your gut snapped and the paperwork on your desk was ruined.

But just as you were relaxing into your blissful haze, waiting to feel him reach his own end, utterly ecstatic to hear the sounds he’d make as he filled you but-

He pulled out. You were left wanting, aching despite him giving you what really should’ve been all you needed, but it wasn’t. You needed to feel him as well. Then you realised, as you heard him zipping his tactical pants back up and re-buckling his belt - he was nowhere near done with you, and you weren’t getting a reward like that until you’d earned it.