#c/o tiktok | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. is using 66 technologies for its website.

h0n3ydr0p · 2 months

Text

WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND A GOOD CLEAR PHOTO OF THE CRYBABY MASK ٩(๑꒦ິȏ꒦ິ๑)۶

ಥ_ಥ DOG– I JUST NEED A GOOD PORTRAIT PHOTO SO I CAN MAKE THE SKIN FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

#text post #Probably will delete later #gif warning #I know the make up artist posts frequent videos of the looks done for the concerts/music videos etcetera #B U T I D O N ' T H A V E A C L O C K A P P A C C O U N T #And I don't know how good I can get a screenshot of a TikTok video of it ┌(˵༎ຶ ل͟ ༎ຶ˵)┐#Sick n tired

3 notes · View notes

hclluvasinners · 3 months

Text

ignore this post if you don't want a minor, M I N O R spoiler for the Hazbin episodes, buuuuuuuuut--

this is entirely out of context when i keep seeing this specific clip, but apparently, the clip starts off w/ a headless angel being found and another angel, or Lute, reporting to Adam about the body and that an angel's never been killed while in Hell. it's just an impossibility, apparently, that an angel could even get killed but that seems wrong to me? you mean, in this Hell filled w/ Overlords and higher-ranking demons, not a single angel has ever been killed? of course, my great king Alastor was the one to do it ( at least that's what all the clips and edits i've been seeing are implying ).

#( radio signals from beyond ;; o o c ).#honestly it doesn't sound right to me.#anyways i'm not even out searching for the hazbin leaks but they keep finding me on tiktok as edits or small clips lmfao

2 notes · View notes

preciouspatriots · 10 months

Text

someone said castles crumbling by taylor swift is roman reigns coded and i’m gonna be S I C K

#O U C H #i saw a tiktok edit of it i can’t lie #and it was nothing be pain #wwe #roman reigns

5 notes · View notes

brian-in-finance · 1 year

Text

Video 📹 TikTok

Remember… growing up with Caitríona spelled the way it is, I’m kind of used to it at this point. — Caitríona Balfe to Xposé at the T2 Trainspotting world premiere in Edinburgh, 22 January 2017

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #C a i t r í o n a #TikTok #My screenrecording

8 notes · View notes

taviokapudding · 1 year

Text

This year my dad found & gave me the Montblac my mom misplaced in 2016 that was supposed to be my deceased grandpa’s uni graduation gift; yesterday I got to draw for the first time in 3yrs without pain & inked a Diluc with the $500 pen

I ordered normal pens right after, it’s okay to laugh and cry

I know my old man is upstairs probably cackling because he used to doodle with his fountain pens. And also I’m relieved I can still draw & didn’t lose all my skills but the numbing in my shoulder has now evolved to soreness so I’ll try to draw once a week to build those muscles up again. Tldr my dominant arm is low key fighting the urge to slide outta my arm socket because in 2019 I fell and tore my trapezius muscle next to my spine with the hold the size of my hand. Tbh I only have a functioning right arm purely out of spite & self recovery since then & only until recently don’t suffer from the debilitating pain anymore but anyways.

The way I just 💀 upon realizing the ink refills are $20 & I bought 30 pens for the same price. And like y’all don’t understand, I re-inked the drawing 3 times to build up the depth between the Five & Below $5 color pencil layers. That’s like $4-$8 in total

I knew it was expensive but I never looked into it until my dad saw what I was doing and busted out laughing because apparently he did the same mistake when he graduated law school.

My first drawing in 3 yrs accidentally turned my sketchbook into an physical asset because of the fucking pen and I gotta save up to buy the refills down the road because THE INK WAS SO NICE TO DRAW WITH *punches air* I HATE THAT IT WAS A GOOD EXPERIENCE OH FUCK ME

#mun post #When I wake up I’ll take pictures because it’s 4:30am right now #you guys can see the moment I realized on tiktok #there’s no jokes here #it’s the Meisterstück Platinum-Coated LeGrand Ballpoint Pen either in midsize or le grand I need to measure it tomorrow because it’s a full #sized pen and the difference between the 2 sizes is $25 which isn’t much but with taxes is CRAZY #OF COUSE IT WAS FUCKING #diluc ragnvindr #THAT I DREW OF C O U R S E SHIT That’s really funny #also I don’t have red color pencils apparently so I used pink and orange to mix in the red #and yes I used a glitter gel pen with the fucking $20 black ink I am SO STUPID #capitalism wins this round fellas because goddamn it’s a good fucking pen and it didn’t smear or bleed through at all and is a comfy weight #but fuuuuuuuck #also my mom misplaced the pen because she had been masking her dementia and schizophrenia since probably 2010 when I think it #so yeah shout out to my dad for never stoping to search for the pen #also it has this little case with a fancy black fabric #also fun fact if my dad never came to the us he would be a lawyer in Costa Rica #artists of tumblr

4 notes · View notes

flayedboy · 2 years

Text

i got through the first two eps last night and so far?? it's so good! i'm gonna try to finish today and i'll work on drafts too!

#. O O C #but like i can't go into billys tag yet #and i'm even scared to go on like tiktok and stuff!#i hate spoilers!

3 notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 6 months

Text

svt masterlist

main masterlist

m - mature

f - fluff

a - angst

c - crack

all full fics

by member:

seungcheol

jeonghan

joshua

jun

soonyoung

wonwoo

jihoon

seokmin

mingyu

minghao

seungkwan

vernon

chan

reactions:

catching you masturbating w/ a teddy bear (m)

a member finding your nudes - 95 line (m)

a member finding your nudes - 96 line (m)

a member finding your nudes - 97 line (m)

a member finding your nudes - maknae line (m)

making them blush/flustered (f)

trying to dom them (m)

saying another member's name in your sleep (f)

accidentally wacking you while opening a jar (f, c)

you being scary when you're mad (f)

teasing you over your crush on them - hhu (f)

teasing you over your crush on them - vu (f)

teasing you over your crush on them - pu (f)

what they'd be like if they had a crush on you (f)

reaction to 'envolver' tiktok challenge (m)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - hhu (a)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - hhu pt. 2 (a, f)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - vu (a)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - vu pt. 2 (a, f)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - pu (a)

accidentally ditching you on your bday - pu pt. 2 (a, f)

foreign celebrity crush interviews them (f)

a sasaeng attacking their idol!gf (a, f)

you getting hurt after an argument (a, f)

accidentally falling on your chest (c)

reaction to you being pregnant - hhu (a, f)

reaction to you being pregnant - vu (a, f)

waking up from a wet dream about you (m)

s/o wearing a backless dress (f)

defending them from a sasaeng (a, f)

another member liking their gf - hhu (f)

another member liking their gf - vu (f)

another member liking their gf - pu (f)

you cockwarming them (m)

reaction to your pornographic moans (m)

seventeen as tropes (f)

boobs or ass (m)

accidentally making fun of you in front of the members (a, c)

orange peel theory (f)

you being really loud in bed (m)

their preferences in a partner (f)

svt and backshots (m)

another member jacking off to you (m)

you receiving lots of love confessions (f)

another member walking in on you having sex (m)

moaning another member's name (m)

them making food from your country (f)

you being anxious breaking rules - hhu (f)

backshots (m)

their partner doing the dpr ian tiktok challenge (m)

fighting bc of a misunderstanding (a, f)

having an older s/o (f)

having a feminine s/o (f)

sasaeng hurting their s/o (a, f)

having a younger s/o (f)

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen masterlist #hannieehaee masterlist #hannieehaee

2K notes · View notes

apparentlytheproblem · 8 months

Note

Hi! I hope you’re having a great day! I had an idea for a fic and I thought I’d send it to you!

Theodore Nott or Mattheo Riddle x fem! Reader

The readers on her phone relaxing after spending all Saturday on homework, and she opens tiktok and watches edits edits of her boyfriend and watches some for like hours and then he walks in- (stay with me bestie-) and she dosent notice, and she’s gotten really horny, needy and turned on *cough* maybe she goes on character ai to try to make her miss him less and she’s just super horny- he sees her watching edits of him and it’s just super smutty?

A/n: Also this is my first time requesting! I sent this to a couple of my favorite fanfic authors bc I didn’t know who would respond, I love your work pls keep it up!!

p e r f e c t i o n

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- theodore nott

a/n: thelloo my darling, i am so sorry it took so long. i couldn't choose which character to do, so both are uploaded, one is the copy paste of the other except their names [ofcourse] so there isn't much difference, tysmm for requesting and i hope you're happy with how this turned out :)

p.s i love you and this literally has me giggling and smiling

requested- yes

currently playing- forever favourite

warnings- this is set in a modern au, here he's a famous actor

you placed your pen down, a clicking sound was heard as the cap enclosed the nib. you uncross your legs and make way to the couch with your phone on one hand, ready to take a well deserved break.

you opened TikTok, the symbol animatedly popping up as her for you page loaded. there was something so addictive about it, not that of the app, but how the edits and controversies of your boyfriend pulled you in for hours.

the thing was, the both of you had an argument and you're missing him more than usual. you long for him to grab your thighs, the neck kisses, his fingers running down you as if to sculpt you.

from POVs to edits to just scenes of him had you captivated. just the thoughts of him doing what they claimed. you found yourself rewatching an edit of his thighs. for some reason they turned you on so much. his walk, his arms, the way he moved, how could he do it all so seductively.

was it getting hot in here?

you instinctively started unbuttoning your shirt and removed your shorts, leaving you in a pretty set. you were home alone anyway, who would be bothered? but god didn't he love that set. you rested on your stomach as you encountered an audio, a one with Theodore Nott fucking you. you could feel yourself practically melt with his voice draining all thought and reason on your mind.

his slow footsteps took him to the bedroom which's door was slightly ajar his hand preoccupied with takeout.

fuckfuckfuck

you eyes look up to see the the biggest grin. he though he'd won. he knew you wouldn't go too long without him. it made you upset. but at the same time, his barely buttoned up shirt was loosely hung and his trousers outlined his visibly growing bulge.

leaving the food gently on the desk facing the door, he lifted you up from the bed with his hand under your thighs, placing you on top of his study.

his eyes ran through the pretty blue lace, he always said it looked lovley on her skin. he closed the gap between her, your breats pressed against him.

"I'm sorry my love, but i don't mind fucking you while you're still angry at me. it quite turns me on."

Theo backed you up against the wall, his mouth warm and heavy on yours as your fingers hooked his belt buckle. you were far from angry, you were ready to end him, oh and he knew. he would be dying today, but atleast it would end with his face berried in your pussy.

“sweetheart..” he held his palm out to you, pressing you against the cold wall as his chocolate eyes gazed you in absolute awe.

you pulled Theo by the tie, his hands swiftly picked you up and dropped you ever so gently on the centre of your bed. you push his standing figure on his back roughly as he just has the most blissful expression on his face.

you leaned over Theo and gently placed a feather like kiss on his abdomen, your fingernails gently paving a path down him, reaching towards his abs, the hard muscle were as if god himself had taken the time to sculpt it for you.

you slowly mount him, ghosting above him slightly.

"you have such an annoying face Nott."

that was absolutley untrue. is face was perfection. it was gorgeous and defined and just perfect.

"sit on my annoying face then baby" he murmured. it was soft and kind.

you crawled to the head of the bed, "you’re fuckin perfection." you muttered, pressing a gentle kiss on his jaw as he positioned his hands round your hips, pulling you on top of his face. you settled in, your legs locked on either side of his pretty head. one arm was resting on his chest lightly as the other played with his soft curls.

"fuck" you moaned, his lips spread under you only sucking harder, the sensation making you shudder. you were already dripping and he's just gotten started.

"darling-" he shushed himself off as you moaned, your fingers entangled in his brown hair as he lapped up your juices, quickening his pace.

his tongue lightly ball room danced around your clit as you came and your hands switched to the bedsheet so you don't nearly pulled his hair from his roots. he was memorized with the feeling of your thighs tightening

he continued his pace and as if muscle memory you gripped his hair again,

"fuck-"

you moaned out as he gripped your thighs, acting as if he could swallow you whole.

another orgasm.

and another.

one by one, they all fell into order.

2K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

imagining a scenario where Mrs. König packs her husband’s lunch so he can take it to work (or like, he can take it with him on the day he’s deployed, if that makes sense)

and like, she spoils him for lunch. literally

cuts the crusts off his sandwiches

peels his orange

little fancy shapes for his fruit??? you bet

those gummy snacks and cookies??? absolutely

and can’t forget, a lovely note (maybe even a very explicit photo >wink wink<)

and keep it up, now König expects his lunch made by Mrs. König!!!!

which is her evil plan all along because i bet one day when she’s incredibly angry when she makes his lunch…

and he opens to find:

sandwich crusts ON.

n o c o o k i e

orange is orange. unpeeled

no notes of love

fruit is fruit shaped. not dino shaped :(

now König can spend three months of deployment thinking about his actions.

I recently got addicted to those lunch box videos on TikTok, anon, I AM INVESTED!! Just being Konig's housewife, having the prettiest apron with some cute frills all around, with laces and little ribbons everywhere - it's not really practical, but you have a huge collection of those and you can afford to make them a bit messy, and dirty. You don't have a lot of things to do at home, watching TV and sitting on your laptop gets boring after the first few weeks, especially when Konig has desk duty and leaves the house for the whole day instead of spending time with you or getting on facetime while on his mission. You're cooking for him, take out so so many lunchbox ideas!! Spend too much money on various lunchboxes, on different designs, and all of those cute things you can use to cut bread and fruits, to make some elaborate shapes and slowly engage your husband to eat cute stuff instead of just sliding his card to get some slop on the base( Everyone is so so so jealous of him, he is getting rice balls with nice seasonings and little seaweed cutouts that make it look like pandas, he is having all of those cute shapes for his apples and carrots!! That giant three-story boxed with ice and metal sections...and then it all suddenly stops.

He is not just getting a dry and cold sandwich - they are literally just covered in their shop packaging, you don't even bother to cook for him anymore. sometimes you miss the days entirely, leaving him to return to the base kitchen and find out that he is unable to eat here anymore because he just knows he messed up and you're mad at him( this is the only way you can get to him - Konig isn't a cruel husband, even though he keeps you locked in the house, but he is a pretty dense one, ignoring your wishes and often making you beg for even the slightest of privileges, like getting out of the house to do your garden, or go to some nice cafes and actually see people. He will apologize profusely, knowing how much he hurt you( his heart still in the wrong place, he don't understand why would you want to join some dumb book club when you can spend time at home, but he is forced to allow you to go out, just so he could see his pretty housewife smiling again, caring for him like a proper girl should

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig

880 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 6 months

Text

Hello, hello! Per ceilidh's request - a Soap x Reader ficlet from the prompt thingy.

#11 "You tricked me."

I was heavily inspired by that tiktok sound (iykyk)

Rating: M CW/TW: brief/vague torture, threat of SA (doesn't happen), manipulation, dark!Soap

Being a medium in the military isn’t that much different from being a medium anywhere else.

The rules are roughly the same. Don’t talk to ghosts in living company. Don’t join idiotic 2am summoning circles. Try to help the ones you can; try not to lose sleep over the ones you can’t.

Oddly, there aren’t as many ghosts on a base as any given suburban house. Depends on the base, of course, but a reassuring number of former-military souls continue to their final rest. Even if their bodies (or parts of it) don’t make it back, tags and a symbolic burial usually suffice.

The 141’s main base only has a handful. A few you’ve already gotten closure for, sent off into the beyond. The others you’re working on, or already know they’re a lost cause. Most of them are even friendly!

There’s a corporal that haunts the mess and laments mashed potatoes. A captain appears in Price’s office occasionally, his residual energy glaring down at reports and rustling at phantom papers. On the range, you sometimes speak to the ghost of a prostitute murdered by some piece of shite back in ye olde times. She doesn’t talk back – can’t with a crushed windpipe – but she smiles when you have the privacy to acknowledge her.

Your favorite, though, is Johnny. He’s a comparatively new spirit, by your estimate. Lots of energy, still coherent. You can’t tell how he died by looking at him, but that’s not unusual. It could have been internal bleeding, or a stroke despite his youth. He won’t tell you his last name despite all your asking, always just laughs.

“Yer no’ gettin’ rid o’ me tha easily!”

He always lays the Scottish accent on in a thick velvet blanket. You want to wrap yourself up in it.

Yes, the rules for being a medium are the same, even on a military base. The main one: don’t get haunted by feelings.

That was never a concern, never even a thought, until Johnny. Until you caught his eye around Price’s shoulder during your introductory tour. He followed you for hours, interjecting little asides that put your selective hearing to the test. Always orbited just close enough to send chills down your spine and goosebumps up your arm.

You confronted him when you’d finally been dismissed back to your barrack, whirling around as he popped his mohawked head through the door. Despite yourself, you made quick friends with him.

He’s an unusual ghost. Doesn’t seem tied to a particular place or thing on base. Isn’t trapped along the same paths he walked in life. He’s always solid or near solid, doesn’t waver at certain times of day. You’re utterly charmed by his unorthodoxy, by his miraculous non-existence. And by the fact that, while he knows your secret – as all spirits do – he seems more intrigued than solicitous.

It's not that you blame other ghosts – the coherent ones – for wanting help. It’s torturous to toe that line, not alive but not at peace. Stuck and dwindling little by little. You can’t imagine what it feels like, but you can sense from some that it’s frightening, and cold. No, you’re not bothered that they ask for help. Or with the ones that are just angry; they have every reason to be.

Johnny, though… he’s special. You don’t feel so alone with him, even if the room looks like it to an outsider.

“Oh, aye, that’s pure dead brilliant. You know they’re sending you to Russia?”

You flick Johnny a glance. He’s leaning over Price’s shoulder, peering at the briefing docket that’s actively being explained. You don’t mind the extra or early info. Saved your ass a couple times before.

Your lack of response ruffles his feathers though. He stalks through the table to Gaz, flicks his pen right off the surface. You snort softly as he curses under his breath and ducks to retrieve it, trying not to interrupt Price. You make eye contact with Johnny, blink and minutely shake your head. He can see the twitching at the corners of your mouth anyway.

He smirks and wades through solid objects back to you. His presence looms behind your shoulder, an uneasy flicker at the edge of your consciousness. Like this he seems bigger, inhuman beyond ghostliness. Rougher and darker in the corner of your vision. You’ve done a double-take and gotten teased for skittishness enough times by now to quell the urge to check. It’s always just Johnny.

You’re paired with your lieutenant, Ghost. He’ll be watching with his sniper while you’re on infil. Usually, you’re paired with Gaz, but he and Roach will be at the other end of the compound taking out a target.

When the team is dismissed, Ghost only pauses long enough to give you a nod before skulking off. Not unusual for him; you take no offense. Johnny, however, is scowling something fierce after him.

For whatever reason, he’s never been a fan of your LT. The one time you asked, the lights started flickering and Johnny dismissed the question with a sharp “just don’t like him.”

You suspect that it’s because Ghost was your mentor when you joined the 141. The two of you spent the majority of your time together, training you up to run with the rest of the squad. Due to his constant proximity, your ability to respond to Johnny was greatly hindered.

Still is with how observant Ghost is. Have almost blown your cover several times and had to really watch yourself, and your reactions. You think Johnny might resent him for that.

Back in your barrack, though, Johnny happily chatters while you gear up for the mission. Base gossip and bits of intel he shouldn’t know and shouldn’t tell you. It’s standard ritual for you two; he likes to talk, and you’re accustomed to listening. You hum in the right places, storing tidbits away for your own amusement later.

A playful tug to your bitch-strap makes you yelp, then laugh when you catch Johnny’s grin. He does it again, loosening one of the buckles on your thigh. You swat him uselessly, retightening it only for him to pluck at your bootlaces while you’re occupied. He’s got so much energy, for a ghost. So adept at interacting with the physical world.

“Quit it!” you giggle, trying to dodge his darting hands.

“Why should I?” he chuckles. You curse as he gets a finger in your harness and jerks, misaligning it with the rest of your gear.

“I’ll banish you,” you lie, wriggling various straps back into place.

“Oh, sweet girl, it would take a lot more than you’ve got to get rid of me now.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase for him, but it’s the tone that draws your gaze. There’s an unfamiliar, inky darkness in his voice that pools in the pit of your stomach. You frown, open your mouth to ask what he means. But just like that, his electric smile is back, eyebrows arching as he nods to your bedside clock.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Shit!” You snatch up your backpack and fling it across your shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you, Johnny!”

“Can’t kill something that isn’t alive,” he cackles as you sweep out the door.

You make it the transport just short of reprimand, though that doesn’t stop Ghost from narrowing his eyes as you duck into your seat. Gaz has already started a lively conversation with Roach, and Price is staying back this time.

You miss Johnny already. He may not be trapped in any particular part of the base, but he can’t come with you on missions or leave. The spaces where he’s absent feel colder and quieter. Everything seems just a bit… off. A song missing an instrument, a rainbow lacking one color.

You’re not sure when that started happening, when Johnny became such a vital part of how you perceive the rest of the world. When did longing for him become a chronic illness?

“Focus up!” Ghost barks in your ear.

You blink, shake your head, and take stock bewildered. Gone is the transport and the rest of your team. It’s just you now, hidden behind a generator, presumably about to infiltrate the target.

How?

When you try to recall, you have vague recollections of exiting the transport. Hiking to the compound. Splitting off with a few parting words amongst the lot of you. It feels watery at the edges, more of a vivid dream than a waking memory.

“Yessir.” It jumps instinctively from your tongue while you flex your cold fingers, trying to coax the nerves back to life.

You take a deep breath – lungs aching like you’ve held your breath too long – and continue with the mission. There’s no room for error now, or idle daydreams of noncorporeal men with wicked smiles.

The building is only three stories and you’re not meant to clear it. Just get to the server room, collect the information, and slip away with minimal enemy contact.

Maybe that’s why you don’t realize that something is wrong at first. You’re supposed to be avoiding guards, so you don’t notice the lack of them. Things do go right, sometimes, the intel can be good.

But it’s the quiet the finally prickles at your awareness. You may be more attuned to the dead, but you have a sense for the living as well. Always made you the worst to play hide and seek with. Now, you can feel that this building is vacant, deprived of any souls.

“LT, something is wrong,” you whisper, frozen mid-step.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s too quiet.”

To his credit, he doesn’t dismiss you immediately. “How?”

“I think the building is empty. Have you seen anyone?”

“Negative.” A pause as he considers, maybe scans the other windows for signs of occupation. “Sit tight, I’ll update Price.”

There’s barely a heartbeat before you hear distant gunfire. Too much and too soon for the plan. Roach and Gaz weren’t supposed to neutralize the target until you were collecting intel.

“Fuck,” Ghost snarls. “Get out of there!”

You’re already sprinting for the stairwell. Nearly pop your ankles leaping down, boot treads catching on the edge of steps. No one is chasing you, but your team needs help. Gaz is shouting in your ear, the channels reconnected for ease of communication. The situation is devolving quickly and violently.

“Almost there,” you report.

Your foot hits the last landing before the ground floor when the building explodes.

---

It takes three tries to get your vision focused. There’s not much to see once you do. A concrete room tinted by bare yellow halogen. There’s a drain in the floor just in front of you and old blood dried in the corners. It smells like rust, infection, and despair. Your head pounds; your entire body aches. Being tied to a metal chair doesn’t help the post-explosion soreness.

You’ve been stripped down to your fatigues, no boots. There isn’t a door in any of the three walls you can see, so it must be positioned behind you.

Confirmation comes about a minute later. Three sets of boots entering your little box. Only one of them walks into your line of sight; a mean-looking man with face tattoos and a gold tooth. He asks if you speak Russian, and though you do, you spew a string of English profanities and threats at him. The backhand you get in return says he understood you.

The questions start as soon as he switches to English. They want information; they always do. What you had been sent to collect and why. Who Roach and Gaz were sent for and why. You don’t speak a word. Even when the pain starts, and then doesn’t stop. You lose track of time, the head injury floating you on the edge of consciousness within the first thirty minutes.

Hours – days? – later, the man takes a step back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, “I like taking my time, and we have plenty. Your friends think you are dead.”

That, you think through the haze, is probably true. You thought you were dead too.

“Perhaps next time we try something… else,” he muses, running a finger down your neck. “You are not as pretty now, but… prettier than you will be later, da?”

Ice forms in the pit of your stomach and climbs up your spine. It was always on the table, you know that, but facing it is something else.

Whatever expression you’re making seems to satisfy him, because he laughs heartily and finally leaves you alone.

Alone, with the promise of his next visit looming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a dripping sound nearby that you realize, vaguely, is your own blood. Maybe you’ll bleed out before he comes back. You time your breaths with it, using it as a count to get your wild and unsteady heart under control.

Reality washes over you in waves. There is no escape. Your team thinks you’re dead. Eventually, you will break and/or die. You might even become a ghost, join the collective that darkens the edges of this very room, a thing of pain and fear and rage without any coherency or singular will.

You didn’t even give Johnny a proper goodbye.

That somehow hurts the worst. Johnny, hearing second-hand that you’ll never make it back. No one to mourn with him, to offer any comfort. He’ll be alone with grief and then beyond, no one to tell his jokes or stories to.

You miss him more fiercely than you ever have. Part of you is glad he isn’t here. You know him, know he’d be too stubborn to leave you. He’d stay and watch, helpless, as you were tortured and killed. It would tear you apart to do that to him even though it wouldn’t be your own choice.

But… an awful, selfish part of you longs for him. Even just being able to see or hear him would soften the pain and fear. Would make this hell on earth almost bearable. You want to leave this world with Johnny whispering in your ear, maybe even join him when your body finally goes cold.

Given the choice, you would want him here.

You want Johnny. No, you need him. Regret ever leaving him behind, even though he couldn’t come with you. You’d do anything to change that now; anything to be with him again.

Anything?

It’s an unbidden thought, almost intrusive. Doesn’t even feel like yourself asking.

“Anything,” you whisper aloud, just to hear something other than your own despair. “Johnny…”

“You called?”

You jolt, head snapping up so fast it makes you dizzy. The world spins but he’s there, right there, crouching in front of you, arms balanced on his knees.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

Were you closer to the brink than you thought? Is this some sort of final hallucination as you slip into death?

“In the flesh.” He tilts his head, snorts. “Well, in a manner.”

“How…?” you ask, eyes already stinging.

“Told ya, you called. I’d never – hey, now, hey. No need for all that,” he soothes. He wipes the tears from your face. You can feel the warmth in his fingers. “This is a happy occasion.”

You huff in watery amusement, shaking your head. “Did you lose your glasses when you died? I wouldn’t call this celebration-worthy.”

His eyes scan over you, flicker dark. “It will be, don’t you worry.”

You blink, try to focus. Exhaustion and injury and chemical rush are making it difficult, but you know things are off. He shouldn’t be here, least of all because you called. And… something else too. Something in the way he’s holding his shoulders and the twitching around his expression.

“Johnny, really,” you say, “why are you here?”

“You offered me anything, and I’m here to collect.”

Between one blink and the next, his eyes are black. Pitch black, from corner to corner. You suck in a breath, try to jerk back but there’s nowhere to go.

His grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he sighs.

He leans in, lips parting. His tongue rolls out, long and split at the tip. Licks a luxurious, burning trail from your chin to your temple. You make a sound borne of confused pleasure and fear, high in the back of your throat.

He shushes you, plants a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth. “My brave little lass, finally offering herself to the demon she’s been courting.”

The word bounces against the walls of your cell and burrows into your brain. Demon, demon, demon.

Johnny is…

“You tricked me,” you sob.

He cocks his head, onyx eyes soft with avarice. “Tricked you? No, angel, I’m saving you.”

His hands pet over the cruel ties around your ankles. The itch of them digging into your skin falls away. Gentle thumbs rub circles over the imprints the left behind. Hope and relief pounds hard in your chest.

“I’m only taking what you so willingly and enthusiastically offered,” he explains in hushed awe. Like you’ve given him such a wonderful gift, the greatest gift. Suppose you have.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he croons. His arms wrap around you, almost like a hug. His fingertips trace down your bruised arms to the cuffs biting your wrists. Those too fall away, and you find yourself reaching for him so quickly, folding into his chest, free of that wretched chair.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, a hand curling into blood and sweat soaked tangles.

“It… it is you, right?” you ask. “You’re my Johnny?”

“Always, angel,” he replies, “it’s always been me. I will always be yours. All you have to do is say yes.”

You tilt your head back, catch the wicked curve of fangs as he speaks. He smells like heat and woodsmoke.

“Yes to what?” you ask.

“To everything,” he answers, deep and rough. “You offered anything, and I want all of you.”

You should say no, you should throw yourself away from him.

There is not an inch of your mind or body that wants to leave the safety of his arms. This is Johnny, your Johnny, hellfire and all.

“And… in return,” you venture, “I get… you?”

“Eternally.”

Then it really doesn’t need much more thought.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.”

#my writing #fanfiction #john soap mactavish #reader fic #cod #writing prompts #demon!soap #soap x reader

814 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

mig-el

odin

jimmieprintstees

Untitled

siennajoyh

Untitled

unlikefred

𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃

infinitycords2

InfinityCords.v2