#johnnyxreader

[small-sinclair]

“Bunny?”

“I’m okay, Johnny.”

“Bullshit,” his blood stained hands wrap around your waist and pulls you close until your back is against his chest. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “Hate seeing you sad. Ain’t your fault.”

His words are gentler than normal. “Bunny, need t’see ya smile,” he encourages. “Gotta see it.”

Your head goes under his chin. “What if I can’t anymore? What this doesn’t go away, Johnny? Johnny?” You spun around but stayed in his arms. He held you close as if he were to lose you the moment he let go. “What if it stays?”

Johnny lifted your head and placed a kiss on your forehead. He lips lingered over your skin, marveling at its softness. “Reckon I’ll hav’ta love ya through it. Hold you tighter but give room to grow.” Then a deep, tender kiss captured your lips and stole air from your lungs. “Don’t have very much to do yet,” he promises between breaths, “lemme finish up before I kiss ya stupid.”

Your giggles filled the air as he kisses everywhere he could. “Johnny!” You laugh out until your smile fades. “Oh, Johnny. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Yeah? Well, lemme clean. I’ll come right back loving you, bunny until that smile stays.”

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Johnny Slaughter x Reader housewife request

Cut this down to just the smut, you heathens

Contains: blood, knifeplay, cutting, marking, and smut

You were in the middle of stirring scrambled eggs when you felt a hand slip down the waistband of your shorts, sending a shock shooting down your spine.

"Johnny, I don't get how you're always so quiet," you said, giggling as you felt him press his toned body against yours from behind, his fingers toying with the lace of your black panties.

"Huntin' works better when your prey don't know you're comin'," he whispered against your ear before nipping your earlobe.

"You don't have to hunt me, baby. I'd be as easy to hunt as roadkill," you joked. Johnny smirked against your ear, your statement all too true.

"You're too pretty to be roadkill, babydoll," he rumbled. "I'd make you into a trophy. Hang you in my bedroom so I could look at your beautiful face every night 'fore I fell asleep."

It took some time before you'd gotten used to his fascination with keeping trophies, but the numerous animal heads hanging on your walls showed he wasn't slowing down any time soon. You leaned your weight back against him, enjoying the feel of his bare torso, and smiled as his lips trailed down your neck.

Still, the hardness you felt pressing against your backside proved that the outfit you'd worn to entice him had worked, and your mind was already becoming hazy with lust.

"I been thinkin'," Johnny said, kissing the nape of your neck, "you'd make the most fuckable little housewife."

Your pulse fluttered against his lips. You'd never pushed him for anything; you'd been happy just being his girl. But the word "housewife" made your heart race. He hooked a thumb in your waistband and pulled your shorts and panties down, and his fingers quickly found your already soaked slit.

"Oh yeah?" You gasped as he dipped his fingers inside you. "You think so?"

He murmured an affirmative against your skin while he rocked his hips against your butt. "I know it. What do you think, babydoll? You wanna get married?"

Your lips curled, one of your hands flipping the burners off on the stove before you turned around to face him. His head was cocked to the side, a handsome smile on his face. Your eyes trailed down his bare chest, pausing at each scar, each one telling a different story before looking up into his deep brown eyes. "It's a tempting proposal, but I could use some convincing. Why don't you make me?"

He smiled, but it wasn't friendly. No, it was more like a predator, the type to make your blood run cold.

"Alright, I'll make you, darlin'. If you really want me to, I will."

You felt like a rabbit in a snare, squeezed between his muscular body and the stove, completely at his mercy.

"What'll it be, sugar?" He asked, his hands on your hips, and his eyes trailing down to your cleavage before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

You leaned forward and cupped the bulge in his jeans with one hand.

"Make me."

That was all it took. Johnny's fingers sank into your hips almost painfully as he yanked you against him. "You'll eat those words, darlin'," he growled.

Then he dropped to his knees and pulled your hips against his lips like a man starved. You gripped his wrists while his broad hands cupped your ass, forcing your hips toward him as he burrowed into you.

He always loved eating you out, but this time there was a primal aspect to the way he licked and nipped at your folds. Your fingers entwined in his dark locks as you moaned his name while he traced your entrance, gathering every last drop of your sticky wetness.

Johnny twirled his tongue around your clit and dove in so hard you could feel his teeth against your lips, his tongue curling upward, lifting your hips into his hungry mouth.

Desire dripped down your thighs, mingling with his saliva, while your muscles clenched and shivered. They remained taut, each nerve pulsating with sensation. It felt like an exhilarating marathon, beautiful agony traveling from your thighs to your hips. Moans spilled from your lips, and you tried to draw him closer, but he withdrew.

"This pretty little pussy is mine," he said, his voice low and possessive, before thrusting two fingers into you, making you whimper and tug at his hair. His lips descended upon your clit, nibbling it, sending sparks of both torment and ecstasy throughout your body.

"You're such a slut for me, baby girl." His fingers moved to tease your sweet spot, making your toes curl. "So fucking wet."

He stood, and you whined at the loss of his tormenting touch. His eyes were hungry and dangerous. "You're going to be my pretty little housewife, aren't you, baby?"

You gasped as he pressed against you, his hands on either side of the stove, trapping you.

"I could be," you purred, "but… I'm not entirely convinced."

His gaze darkened. "You're mine," he hissed, a predatory snarl forming at the corner of his lips.

"Prove it," you whispered breathlessly. His pupils dilated, and suddenly, you felt the tip of a blade pressing against the soft skin of your stomach.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked up at him. Fear mingled with a strange sense of excitement, sending tingles shooting through you.

"Johnny?" You whispered as your mouth ran dry.

"You ever watch someone die?" He said, more to himself than to you.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. Johnny had always had a fascination with his Bowie knife, and sometimes you'd glimpse it stained with fresh blood, but he had never wielded it against you—until now.

"You ain't never quite the same after that, lemme tell ya."

Both of your eyes fixed on the blade as he subtly twisted it, drawing a single droplet of blood from your delicate skin. You winced, but you didn't concentrate on the pain as you were enraptured by the intense look on Johnny's face.

With the pad of his thumb, he traced the droplet and brought it to his lips. You were immobilized, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring your essence. A low growl rumbled in his throat, as if your blood were an exquisite ambrosia.

Johnny had given you love bites, sure, but this was the first time he'd purposefully tasted your blood. You could tell he reveled in it, and part of you wondered why he never asked to try it before.

You would have let him, after all. He could've had any and all of you that he desired.

As the unfamiliar tingle of blood leaving your body coursed through you, he picked you up roughly, and your legs wrapped around his hips reflexively. Your blood smeared against his abs, but he didn't seem to mind; in fact, it seemed to arouse him even more as he carried you to your shared bedroom and laid you down like an offering.

Your eyes remained wide, adrenaline surging through you as he unzipped his pants and revealed his gorgeous erection, stroking it hungrily while his eyes devoured your body. He looked at you like a man might admire an ice sculpture, as if he expected that he wouldn't get to admire your beauty much longer.

"Baby?" You asked hesitantly as you tried to sit up in bed.

Something sinister sparked behind his eyes, and he left the room briefly, returning with a handful of rope. "Oh, you ain't getting away. I'm keeping you," he snarled, then knelt on the bed beside you, tying your wrists together and then to the bedpost with ease.

A rush surged behind your ears as he immobilized you, leaving only your legs free, trembling with both arousal and fear.

How did he know how to handle the rope like that? He'd never tied you up before, but the way he did it so effortlessly spoke of practiced experience. You'd always felt that Johnny was hiding something from you, and you had a suspicion it was directly related to his ability to make you feel absolutely helpless.

But what Johnny didn't know was, some part of you had been waiting for this. You were more soaked than you could ever remember being before, and the unadulterated bloodlust he exuded was intensely alluring.

"You ain't going anywhere," he growled, his eyes ablaze with an intensity you had never witnessed before. Your blood gleamed on his torso, and every sinew of his body appeared tightly wound, poised for imminent action. "Ready to meet the Bad Man?"

"The Bad Man from your dreams?" You let out a trembling whimper. Now, this was the figure you'd only encountered in Johnny's waking nightmares. Those harrowing nights when he'd awaken in terror, locked in a life-and-death struggle with an invisible foe. Those nights when he shielded you with his body even in slumber, and upon waking, he remained unconvinced of your safety for days upon days.

"Darlin', he's all too real," he murmured, his words dripping with a chilling anticipation. With deliberate slowness, he drew nearer, his eyes locked onto yours. When his face finally met yours, he seized your head and tilted it to the side, trailing his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, where he clamped down with savage intensity. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he pressed his body flush against yours, the taste of fresh blood flooding his ravenous mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned as he ground his hips against your stomach, his length squeezed between you both. Tears welled in your eyes, but you felt more alive than you'd ever felt before.

"Johnny," you whimpered as he continued to suck your earlobe.

"You wanted this, darlin'," he said with a chilling laugh.

You bit your lip. "I-I'm not asking you to stop."

And, for some reason, that gave him pause.

"Really?" He asked, pulling back. His lips were bloodstained, but that wildfire that had consumed him was simmering behind his gaze as he regarded you with equal parts possession and hunger.

You nodded. "Yes, really. I always knew there was something you were hiding. I want you to know I love you. All of you, Johnny," you said, even as your body shook. "And," you let your wrists go slack, "I like being claimed by you like this."

Something in Johnny shifted then. It was almost too much, the flood of emotions that swept over him, and he didn't realize it, but you felt his tears splatter against your skin.

"I love you more," he said, his voice barely a whisper. You'd heard him say it before, especially during sex, but this was different. It sent chills rippling through you. And when his aching cock slid into your wetness, you both gasped in pure ecstasy.

He gripped your thighs, pulling you against him, and groaned deeply. You felt so good that he couldn't help but pick up the pace, driving into you with a fervor. All your nerve endings coiled and tensed, already hypersensitive, and you wrapped your legs around his powerful hips in euphoria.

"I'm gonna make sure you ain't never forget who owns you," he said, and you mewled in response as he withdrew from you and reached to the bedside table, taking his knife in hand. You caught your reflection in the silver blade, your skin flushed, your lips parted and panting. You couldn't wait to see what he'd do.

Johnny used two fingers to gently circle your clit, keeping you on edge as he traced the tip of the knife between your breasts, down your belly, and to your hip where he'd marked you earlier. His motions slowed to allow him better control, and he pressed the tip of the blade into your skin again, a little deeper than before.

You winced but didn't move as he etched into your skin. Your body was screaming to have him back inside you, and his slow circles on your clit were driving you mad with desire. Pain was indistinguishable from pleasure as he carved your skin like an artist working on a masterpiece. When he finished, he dipped his head and ran his tongue along the marks he'd made. When he withdrew his tongue, you caught the small JS he'd carved just above your hip before blood obscured it.

"Mine," he said once more, and this time, you didn't argue. After all, no one else had their initials etched into your flesh.

Johnny continued to play with your clit as he positioned himself at your entrance before pushing into you again. You'd submitted to him before, but this time was different. This time, you felt nothing but pure bliss. You were his, it could no longer be denied, nor would you ever want to deny it.

The resounding slap of his balls colliding with your sopping wetness was lewd enough to make your mind spin, or perhaps it was the blood loss, but either way, you felt light-headed and airy under his command. One hand moved to cup your breast while the other continued to assist his cock in driving you to the brink.

"Are you going to be my perfect little housewife?" He asked, pressing his forehead against yours as he thrust deeply into you. You could see two sides to him, the vicious and the docile, in harmony in his rapturous gaze.

"I will," you conceded, your breaths coming in sharp pants while he pistoned into your exquisitely viscous core.

"Cum for me, babydoll," he commanded. The tension that had been building since the moment he approached you sprung loose, and you climaxed hard around his throbbing length. With a guttural groan and a final, deep thrust, you felt his climax paint your inner walls before he collapsed on top of you, completely spent.

You wanted to wrap your arms around him, but they were still tied to the bedposts, so instead, you kept your legs locked around his hips and nuzzled your cheek against the top of his head. He looked up at you with the same smile that had melted your heart the first day you met him.

"Thank you, babydoll. Thank you."

[nctinkverse]

Let me blab...

Since it's probably too late for EU timezones, and still not late enough for US/latam timezones... I'll blab...

And by blab I mean give fic recs? Ish.

I have so many fav fics maybe the next few days you'll see me reblog a few of them with a review, coz they are supper important to my nightly delusional sessions...

So this is in no particular order: Pussy Fiend, oh this fic, is AMAZING, like Haechan is a bias, but after this fic? MAN BECAME A WRECKER.

He eats like no other and I think this author is by far the one that gets right mix between his annoying-ish, attention seeker, loud moaning mess that he is, and fuck is SEXY.

Never thought I would like a little dom side from the MC and a sub-turns-dom pleasure hunter L.D.H. Also if you're on the web version, the author's tumblr is PERFECTION. Watch out for the delicious content warning:

NEXT NEXT NEXT NEXT

you’re so golden: the olympic collection

This collection it's by my favourite author, specially bc she writes the BEST JOHNNY SUH ON EARTH.

I thought I didn't needed more than his voice, laugh, communication skills and smile to have Johnny as my ultimate bias, but then... SHE WROTE A DAMN FIC ABOUT HIM BEING A SWIMMER

AND I'M A TERRIBLE SWIMMER

BUT BOY

DID I SWIM IN THAT FICTION!!! Just thinking about THAT version of Johnny out there in the delusional world I got inspired for WEEEKS...

The amount of details author gives is just *chefs kiss* and even me, a self proclaimed gripper of the pool edge, felt like a pro.

LAST ONE FOR THIS POST: I was okay in life minding my own business, living a quiet life with Johnny, Jaehyun and Jisung in neocity, until the biggest markzen the world has ever seen dropped this fic: 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗘𝗦

AFTER THIS DROPED MY LIFE WAS NEVER THE SAME.

jAEMIN, got added to my neobong just before the concert for TDS bc of this story.

It's a agnst, smut, toe curling six part series, and it's a complete one, there's mood boards, playlists, behind the writing, and bonus parts written with Jaemin's POV...

that's for today guys...

And JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED, I dropped my fic's first Chapter last week and will be posting the Chapter 2 on friday! For the Promissa Redux > Preview < For > Chapter 1 <

[linnitheo]

A night to remember

The energy in the venue was electric. My heart pounded in rhythm with the bass that shook the walls, the crowd's excitement a palpable force that made every hair on my arms stand up. The lights dimmed, and the entire arena erupted into a roar as NCT 127 took the stage, each member shining like a constellation against the sea of green lightsticks. My eyes were glued to Johnny, his confident smile and effortless charisma making it hard to look away.

I had been waiting for this moment for months. The tickets had been a splurge, but worth every penny the moment I stepped inside the venue. The setlist was perfect; every song felt like it was played just for me. As they performed, I sang along, lost in the music and the surreal experience of seeing them live. But it was Johnny—his smooth moves, his voice, and the way he connected with the fans—that drew me in the most. He had a way of making you feel seen, even in a crowd of thousands.

The concert was over all too soon, but my excitement hadn’t waned. I had managed to snag a spot for the after-show fan meet, my hands trembling slightly as I clutched the ticket. This was my chance, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to actually meet Johnny. I rehearsed what I might say, but every time, the words seemed to slip away, leaving me nervous and giddy.

The line moved slowly, giving me just enough time to second-guess everything. What if I said something awkward? What if I froze up entirely? My thoughts were interrupted when I finally reached the front, and there he was—Johnny, sitting at a small table with a warm smile that made the world feel a little bit smaller.

“Hi!” he greeted me with that familiar, deep voice, his smile lighting up his face. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

I blinked, momentarily forgetting how to speak. “Hi, Johnny,” I managed, my voice wavering slightly. “You guys were amazing. Seriously, the best concert I’ve ever been to.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, that means a lot. Did you have a favorite song?”

I hesitated for a split second before blurting out, “Kick It! But, honestly, all of them were great. You all have so much energy on stage, it’s contagious.”

Johnny nodded, leaning in a little closer as if we were sharing a secret. “Kick It’s a fun one for sure. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He paused, and for a moment, it felt like he was really looking at me, not just another fan, but me. “I could see you dancing in the crowd. You had some moves!”

I laughed, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “You noticed that?”

“Of course,” he said, his smile widening. “You stood out. It’s always awesome to see fans having a good time.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to him, like we were old friends catching up rather than idol and fan meeting for the first time. I wanted to hold onto this feeling, to stretch the moment out just a little longer.

Before I knew it, the staff signaled that it was time for me to move on. I didn’t want to say goodbye, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome either. Johnny noticed, and with a quick glance at the staff, he scribbled something on the back of a photo card before handing it to me.

“Here, take this,” he said, his expression playful yet sincere. “And thank you for being an amazing fan. I hope to see you at another concert soon.”

I took the card, my fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. As I stepped aside, I glanced down and saw a short message: “Keep dancing, and stay amazing. - Johnny.”

It was such a simple gesture, but it meant the world to me. As I walked out of the venue, my heart felt lighter, my steps a little bouncier. Meeting Johnny had been everything I hoped for and more—genuine, fun, and unforgettable. It was a night I’d replay in my mind a thousand times over, each time feeling just as magical as the first.

[pjmsneverland]

REBLOGGING MY JOHNNY FIC CUZ ITS 127 DAY!!!

Won’t You Set Yourself Free?

Warnings: incubus!Johnny, smut, femreader, insecure!reader,

WC: 1.4k

-

You slam the car door shut before you stroll through the store in search of all the items your mother told you to gather. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest as you try your best to keep your emotions together with her words ringing in your ear about how much you lacked as a daughter despite doing your best to listen to everything she asked of you but of course it grew too much for you and of course boundaries were not allowed to be wedged in between the becks and calls. Letting out a heavy sigh you grab the produce, moving on to the next aisle. The atmosphere grew silent, nothing but incoherent murmurs to be heard.

Red walls emerged as you walked deeper into something you knew nothing of. You figured they must have built a new section in the store that you never discovered up until now. The inventory consists of adult toys to your surprise but you still let your eyes look at them in wonder. Time is ticking as your mother waits for you in the car, probably talking about how much you were disappointing her in all of your decisions and sucky attitude so you grab the first thing that interests you and stride over to the clerk whose stance is hard to not be intimidated by with his black clothing and silver rings adorning his ears. He grins at the sight of you, chin in the palm of his hand, leaning on the counter behind the register. His arms flex as he stands to his full height, ring clad digits sliding across the machine.

Keep reading

[tokusho]

Fluff!✨• JohnnyxReader •❤️🧼

It was a long hard mission, everyone was beaten down and exhausted. There is a constant ring in everyones ears as they feel the cold wind chill their bones.

There was no conversation or banter tonight everyone ready to drop dead when they got back to base. Prices cigar smoke wafts through the air making it smell warm like his office.

Your body feels like it was pushed to its very limit, the muscles relax despite the hard metal. The helicopter blades are deafening even with the headphones on. Despite that your eyes start to flutter shut, you try and fight it but its been a long day.

With a small bump your head lands on Johnnys shoulder and you are out like a light. Johnny jumps a little surprised but he immediately stills. A small smile creeps onto his face as he wraps his arm around your waist.

He rests his head against yours yawning, feeling the same pull to slumber as you did.

“Have a good sleep bonnie, I’ll see ya when ah wake up”

He pulls you just a tad bit closer feeling comfort with you by your side. With one more yawn he succumbs to sleep letting himself dream.

[3amfanfiction]

A little johnnyxreader interaction to enjoy.

You’re bent over the sink, face close to the mirror when the front door opens unexpectedly. You immediately know who it is even though he’s not supposed to be home until next week.

You scrub your palms across your face roughly before you dart out of the bathroom. Making horrified eye contact with Johnny.

Ohh Bonnie, you didn’t. If the disappointment in his voice didn’t have you second guessing all of your life choices then the sadness in his eyes would surely do you in.

I-I didn’t realize you’d be home today, baby!this isn’t what it looks like, I promise. Let me explain A shaky hand was held up towards him as if to hold him at bay. One foot began inching backwards, ready to escape the situation at the first chance.

Johnny gets a steely glint in his eyes, brain coming to a lightning quick decision on what his next steps would be. What could be done, how to make sure it never happened again. You told me, sweet girl. You told me that if I caught you doing this again then your punishment would be mine to decide. He steps closer as you begin to take small steps back, inching towards the open space of the living room behind you.

I know, but I promise it’s not that bad!

Not that bad? Look at your face! You’ve done gone and bloody picked at it to hell and back! How long have you been standing at that mirror for?

Your hand self consciously raises to your face, covering the redness from your most recent batch of face picking. You weren’t supposed to be home until next week! These would’ve healed by then! You scream as he finally puts on speed and reaches for you, trying to get away from his grasp before he can reel you in.

Doesn’t matter Lass. You told me to keep you from picking at your face. You always regret it the next day. You said to me, ‘Johnny, love of my life, don’t let me touch my face anymore. You have full authority to do whatever you feel is necessary in the moment or as punishment to keep me from doing so again.’ Do you remember that Bonnie? I think you do otherwise you wouldn’t look so nervous. Now come here. I’ve been planning tonight for weeks and Im ready to get started. I just need to grab a few supplies from the bedroom first.

Cue bedroom funishments

Next || Story Repository

[goatgoesmbe]

Im the opposite of those comments saying "if this happened to me irl ill kill him" on ficcie

By which i mean, i experienced disturbing stuff irl myself and thought "this is horrible, but would make a good plot for a fic" then make a mental note

Like how my cousins flirted w me at family reunion. Ew, but this could be JohnnyxReader fic.. i thought as i write that exact scenario on the way home

Or one time this guy from college stalked me? GhostxReader

I have a problem.. ik

[ghostwhippet]

How does she keep doing this

In your eyes I saw a longing, while I longed to lift you up

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

Again, crossposting this from AO3.

Summary: Johnny survives what should have been a deadly injury. During his recovery, you bond with his family while he refuses to accept his weakened state, only wishing for you to let him wither. However, as you help him through it all, Johnny is reminded why he fought to stay.

18+

CW: smut, tiny angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, deals with medical topics, recovery from injury, mention of depression and struggles related to recovery, cuddles. LOTS OF CUDDLES.

Masterlist 🦊 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Not Johnny.

One hundred and eighty-four days.

One hundred and eighty-four days since Johnny got a bullet in his head. Six months since you saw him flatten against concrete. No lights if not those of the torch tucked in your tac vest.

One hundred and eighty-four days since your own heart stopped beating. More than four thousand hours since the moment you snarled – bellowed. Voice raucous and loud echoing in the tunnel. Raw fire burning your tongue all the way to your fingertips; those that curled around the trigger of your gun.

Makarov on the floor with a hole in his forehead. Mouth-gaped, exhaling his last breaths, mouthing like a fish out of water. Cross-eyed. His lids fluttered, shaking. Pathetic.

Not Johnny.

One hundred and eighty-four days since you pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again. To his chest. To his face. To his legs, groin, shoulder.

Since Price hastily got up from where he’d been thrown and grabbed you from behind. Burly arms around your waist lifting you off the ground. Your gun still shooting, bullets now hitting the cinderblock of the walls. The trigger clicked empty, but you still pressed it – autopilot.

The roar that echoed scratched your throat, made you choke. You spluttered and coughed. Tears and spit, foaming at the mouth. A rabid dog. 

Not Johnny.

More gunshots echoed, but they didn’t come from your weapon. Price dropped you, your knees knocked against the floor. Helpless, you folded. You draped your body over Johnny’s. Forehead to his chest, arms limp next to his face – fingers grabbing at his cheeks, enough to indent the skin. Blindly skimming through his features, feeling the slick blood carve its path through the tiny folds in your fingerprints.

Senses dull. Not Johnny.

Cotton in your ears. Each explosion from the guns was nothing more than a muffled thud. Bullets flew past you. Bullets hit you. You felt the familiar blinding pain of mangled flesh in your left arm. It caused your body to flop further – a ragdoll. It burned, yet it was nothing compared to the agony currently disemboweling you.

You were gutted. Much like a knife piercing flesh. Cutting its way through layers of skin, muscle, and fat. Intestines pouring out, blood and water and bile mixing on the floor – cocktail of death. Not yours. Johnny's.

Not Johnny.

He heard. His chest rose under the weight of your head, and life was breathed into you again.

───────────

It was absolutely mind-boggling to you how he’d survived. You saw it; you saw Makarov pull the trigger. You saw the bullet pierce his skull. You saw him crumple on the cement in that underground tunnel. You felt the blood on your hands. You felt how slick it made his skin.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to snatch the life out of him. 

And as you spent the following days sleeping uncomfortably, curled on one of the chairs in the waiting room of the army hospital, doctors came and went to talk to Price. 

Or to Johnny’s ma.  

She’d flown all the way from Glasgow to Hereford in the blink of an eye, bringing with her a goddamn squadronof MacTavishes. Four sisters with his blue eyes, and his dark hair. All of varying ages. Even a little one, half of yours. Her long hair was in a plait that swung behind her back. You watched it – transfixed. Too catatonic and dazed to care that you might have looked like a right weirdo – staring at a kid like that.

But she was the one who looked like him the most. Maybe it was in the tilt of her chin. In the shape of her eyes. In the slight fold of the tips of her ears – God, you weren’t looking like one, you were a proper weirdo. 

Her braid swung like a pendulum, marking the time you spent apart from him.

A guarded prognosis meant that no one aside from close relatives could enter the room. Family only - and the leader of Johnny’s unit. So, you spent your days of medical leave with your ass on those plastic chairs that were made for short sitting sessions, looking at a platoon of women going in with flowers and chocolates and leaving with tears and bloodied gauzes.

Your arm was wrapped in a bandage of its own, the muscle torn at the bicep. The pain was dull, much like the goddamn sight of you. Or the smell, which you reckoned mustn’t have been the most pleasant whiff to catch with one’s nostrils.

Price took pity on you because he knew. He acted like he didn’t for the sake of his team, but he knew. And he conveyed his awareness with lingering, judgmental glances he gave you and Johnny when the Scot let his hand travel a little too low on your back.

You watched them all from afar, perking your ears to catch any news the doctors told Johnny’s family or your Captain. Clawing at the walls for some information. You’d give your right kidney to know something more aside from the sparse words Price told you out of sympathy.

And then, out of nowhere, after tortuously long days spent with stomach and heart utterly empty, a nurse came to you.

She tapped your shoulder and you flinched. Bloodshot eyes swiveled to land on her face. She looked down at you apprehensively, knowing she’d have to tread lightly. A cornered animal, you were. Pitiful thing.

She called your name, and you blinked.

“The lady there said you’ve been here a while,” she spoke oddly soft and yet respectful. Must’ve spotted the pips on the epaulets of your uniform jacket, the one currently draped over you like a blanket.

Your eyes were unfocused and blinky. Lashes fluttering to swipe away the fatigue – a broom against dust. Looking around made your neck tingle, muscles corded, but you did. Your pupils locked with bright blue ones at the other end of the hallway.

Johnny’s ma waved.

Your brain rewired itself from its slumber and you sat upright. Your shoulders popped as you pulled them back at attention. Legs uncurled from where they were tucked underneath your weight, finally stretching out. Palms to your knees. Your jacket fell to the floor, you didn’t mind it.

“She wants to know if she can talk to you,” the nurse prompted.

You nodded eagerly, probably looking a little too desperate. Your leg bounced in anticipation and anxiety, tiny needles piercing the muscle as it awakened.

Gingerly, his mum walked to you. She sat right in the chair at your side. It took nothing but a look for her to understand: the crust in your lashes from the tears you’ve shed, the bandage around your arm gone from white to yellow with a splotch of brown in the middle. Dried blood and pus. The wound festering beneath it.

She hugged you. She didn’t care if you hadn’t washed in days. If your injury was probably infected, or at least smelled as such. You curled your fingers into fists against her back, and you cried.

She did, too.

𓇬

You understood that Johnny took his fire straight from his ma because she was currently bullying the doctor who had been preventing your entrance into her son’s room.

You stood almost embarrassed next to her, feeling like her child yourself.

She had forced you to wash, after all. Took you to one of the washrooms and helped you out of your clothes. Stroked your skin with a sponge when she noticed the weakness of your movements. Washed away the suds with the showerhead. Dried your hair and braided it.

You’d have felt pathetic if she weren’t there, constantly telling you it was alright. You'd have felt guilty that you became an additional burden to her if she weren't continuously whispering that “whoever loves my Johnny like you do, ‘s mine to care for.”

You took a few steps back the more she argued with the doctor, trying to flee from that predicament. Maybe you’d be lucky enough to peer through the cracked door and spot Johnny’s face now that both surgeon and nurse were busy trying to tame (fruitlessly, they’d learn) Mrs. MacTavish.

However, your back hit something. You lifted your arms, elbows out to create more space around you.

You looked behind and clocked a girl, and her braid. She was slightly shorter than you, about fifteen. The resemblance with her brother was so striking it caused your breath to hitch.

She looked at you with caution. Assessed you like antiques at an auction. Whether you were worthy of her brother’s affection, or not. And you found yourself thinking you’ve never wanted someone’s approval more than you did at that moment.

It was a game of stares that she was clearly winning.

Comical, really. How your skin had bled because of bullets tearing it apart. Knives had ripped crimson gashes on your flesh. Bombs had gone off in your vicinity. You’ve killed. You’ve seen death and brought it, too – a harbinger.

Yet now you stood stock still in front of a teenager. Eyes locked with the depth of the azure sea hers bore. Frozen in place with your elbows still out and your hands hovering between you two.

It was silent for what felt like hours when in truth only mere, tense minutes had passed. The only sound that of Johnny’s ma giving an earful to the doctor and a very tired nurse.

Your lips parted on their own accord then, and your voice came out wet and strained. “You’re so much like him.”

That girl had tried to crack open your skull with the sheer force of her eyes and somehow managed. Then snuck her fingers in the hollow of your stomach and curled them around the handles of your ribs only to rip them open and take a gander at the battered thing that was your heart.

What she said next made your chest clench to the point of pain. Your heart stomped against the hard bone of your rib cage. Her voice was heavily accented yet softer than her brother's. The meaning behind her words was different from the ones you uttered. They went deeper than mere physical appearance.

The thought that she might have seen something in you that even remotely reminded her of him made your heart ache - feeling undeserving of it.

“You are, too.”

───────────

One hundred and eighty-four days since the incident, you could’ve gotten a goddamn medical degree. You took a long compassionate leave to stay by his side, hastily apologizing to doctors and PTs alike for his behavior because during that time, when they’d show up at your doorstep, he’d bark like a dog for them to leave.

For one-hundred and eighty-four days, the moment he fell asleep, you’d bury your head in medical manuals and books. You had his physical therapist explain to you step by step all the exercises he’d have to do for his limbs, so he’d regain strength and mobility.

The massages. The oils. The meds. How to put an IV in. How to change the bandages of his bedsores. You helped him shower. You helped him dress. You did his beard or his hair, and while he pushed for it to be a bland buzzcut or just let it grow, you always let the airstrip at the center stay – gelling it up sometimes, for good fun.

When you’d place a kiss against his buzzed side, next to the healing scar, he’d find himself giving in more and more. His back would soften against your chest, fingers curling at your forearms wrapped around his front.

By the one hundred and eighty-fourth day since the incident, Johnny still barked like a dog at whoever dared to walk in his flat that wasn’t you or a member of his family. But at least now the rest of the lads had their privileges.

At least now he let you sleep on your side of the bed – sometimes daring to curl his arm around your waist so you’d scoot over to his.

At least now he kissed you again and brushed his fingers along your cheek, or through your hair.

His strength came back at a languid pace, but his hands didn’t tremble anymore when he held a fork, so now he could eat by himself. He could lift small weights, but still couldn’t sit up on his own. That was the next achievement you both were aiming at.

His personality now shone through the fractures of the shell he'd locked himself into. The cheeky grin slowly came back like molten gold mending the fissures. That glint in his eyes - a reminder that he was alive.

You already knew it, but he didn’t – and now, he was on his way to finally realize it.

On the morning of that day, Johnny was lying in bed as you’d just finished helping him wear a pair of grey sweatpants. Your back was to him while you folded clean laundry.

He watched like a hawk each movement you made, no matter how mundane and trivial. Shame and resentment still had a tight grip on his heart, withered his soul, but the sight of you – simply there – was enough to make those feelings hush.

“Can’t believe you bloody stayed.”

You stilled in your motions, and only resumed a moment later, setting down the laundry back in the basket. Then, in your sweats and one of his t-shirts, you moved towards the bed. Sat at the edge. Lingered there for a moment as you took him in.

He was thinner. However, against all medical logic, his muscles were still there. Definitely less bulging, definitely much less defined, but there. Apparently, it takes a lot more to wear down John fucking MacTavish. However, you’d have to give credit where credit is due, and your relentless insistence in forcing him to do all the exercises as the PT instructed you, even when Johnny all but cursed at you, might have helped his muscles keep their tone.

You lay down in bed next to him, propped on your elbow with your cheek in your palm. You placed your free hand over his chest, his strong heartbeat at your fingertips.

"'cause you're too hot to drop, eh?" You quipped.

He tried to keep up with your joking mood, his lips curving into that trademark smirk he used to don so effortlessly. Differently from before, when life seemed to flow smoothly, it was short-lived. And while his heart felt like it was being torn apart, he lifted his arm and slung it around your waist, bringing you close.

You snuggled in his side for good measure. One leg of yours was draped over his two, palm still flat on his chest, and now your head lay there as well. While he’d almost returned to his usual self, these moments in which he allowed you to touch him were always sparse and rare. You’d take your fix whenever you could.

His chest still felt tight at the sight of you huddling against him. “Why do ye love me?”

His voice rumbled in his ribcage, echoing in your ear pressed against his pectorals. It perfectly scratched an itch in the back of your brain, almost giving you gooseflesh.

"Because you're pure dead brilliant.” You replied quietly, drawing shapes over the fabric of his tee, "You make me laugh, you make me happy."

Absently, you smiled – memories of your relationship even before it bloomed into love came running in front of your eyes. He could only see the top of your head, but he felt the way your cheek lifted against the cotton, somewhat scrunching the fabric.

"Can't imagine a life without you, honestly.” You lifted your head from his chest and placed a chaste kiss over it. Your shoulders shrugged, the answer being simple. "You're my Johnny."

As much as your words served as a balm to his wounds, he felt as if you were describing someone else. Attributes he was undeserving of – ones that described the man he might have been once but didn’t feel like anymore.

His hand lightly gripped your hip. All he could do was tilt his head down and plant a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger a tad longer. Savoring your skin and the salt of it.

“’m the luckiest man alive,” he mumbled. The press of his mouth against your flesh slurred his words, but you caught them anyway.

Luckiest for real, you mused but didn't voice it. He didn't need a daily reminder of the sheer miracle his survival had been.

Instead, you only relished the touch of the chapped skin of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed to block out anything else that didn’t involve that tiny, warm feeling.

"My lucky charm,” was all you could muster up to say.

He huffed. The air escaping his nose was warm as it hit the crown of your head. You could tell by the way he tensed that he was hesitant, still mindful when it came to having you close. Insecure, ashamed. But you'd linger there unless he pushed you away – hoping, deep down, he never would again.

In very Johnny’s fashion, he masked his insecurity with a lighthearted joke. “C’mon, inflate my ego a bit more.”

And you did, despite knowing it was all a façade to hide the inner turmoil he’d been brewing constantly ever since. Despite knowing he silently craved your words of reassurance, because maybe, if you repeated them enough, he’d eventually believe them, too.

A chuckle bubbled up your throat. Johnny felt its gentle rumble in his bones, and it stole a smile from him.

“You’re absolutely hilarious – you crack me up,” you continued like he asked, “Sharper wit than mine – which I thoroughly appreciate.”

You leaned your head back, reluctantly pulling your forehead away from his lips, only to be awarded with the blue of his eyes.

“You’re kind and compassionate," you sighed, "You care ‘bout others even when you shouldn’t. That’s noble.”

But then your mouth pursed, because its corners struggled to keep a smile, "You're also absurdly hot, love.”

He scoffed, giving you a look – shallow. But he couldn't deny the way the last comment made his chest puff a little.

It was unbearably hard not to burst out laughing. Difficult to keep the warmth inside, in the face of the familiarity of it all. You cleared your throat, mustering up the most serious expression you could pull at that moment.

“You’re the strongest man I know.”

And just like that, his smile was gone. The dancing flame he lit in your heart, smothered by ice. Johnny, who’d always been the gasoline to your fire, now felt like freezing water.

He shook his head, trying to hide the unease. “My strength is long gone, love.”

And even if your blood was struggling to boil against the ice he instilled, you decide you wouldn’t have that. Not in a thousand years.

Your eyes welled up with tears, as much as you tried to fight it. He sounded so tormented - you craved to take it away from him. Your fingers curled at his jaw, gently. Tilting his head, you forced his eyes to lock with yours – making sure to keep him there, focused on you.

"You, my love," you repeated, voice wavering but filled with resolve, "are the strongest man I've ever met."

Yet your words only fueled the self-hatred. He failed to see the determination in your eyes because the wounds in his brain, both emotional and whatnot, only made him perceive pity.

“I hate this,” he growled. While your fire had been smothered, his only grew. His eyes held defiance and fight, unfortunately against all the wrong things. “I hate this so damn much. I – I struggle to live, darling. I can’t even fucking stand. I’m like a useless sack of sh-”

"None of tha'." You interrupted him. This time, you sounded angry.

Hell, you understood. You were a special forces operator, too. You were in his same team. You fucking got it. The pain, the worthlessness after having been fully independent and, at least on his part, generously strong for most of his adult life.

But you weren't having it.

Your fingers held his face in place, curled at his cheeks. Not too tight, always gentle and mindful of his head injury, but firm enough to indent in the plush of his skin.

"You are Sergeant John – fucking Soap - MacTavish." You stated firmly, and while your eyes were glossy, your voice didn't hesitate this time. "You are a sniper and demolitions specialist. The best out there."

Your pupils sailed the storm in his eyes with unparalleled skill. "You've survived a gunshot to the head. You fought to live, and I swear 'ere and now, John, I'll make fucking sure you will."

Johnny found himself fighting a war he couldn’t win. And while he wasn’t used to it, he realized he didn't mind losing. He had been biting each hand that tried to feed him, to nurse him back to health.

Even yours.

He failed to see, however, that you came back each time – mangled fingers, bite marks and all.

He hated being the reason you cried, even if it was for the sheer amount of feelings that had been brewing all at once, threatening to spill over.

Without warning, he put his hands against the mattress and sat up. And because it wasn’t enough for him apparently, he grabbed awestruck-you by the hips, pulling you on top of him –  with no little effort – to straddle his lap. That was the achievement of the week, he thought, and with an exhausted sigh, he flopped with his back against the headboard.

He used to be able to absolutely manhandle you and place you wherever he wanted, once. Now, his chest heaved as a result of barely lifting you an inch. The concept was still hard to grasp for him, but he realized how proud he felt when his eyes landed on yours, when your gasp reached his eardrums.

And he understood, then. He might have thought that he was a useless sack of shit, but you weren’t, and steaming Jesus, he’d do it. For you, he’d take the fucking praise of having lifted a spoon without dropping the stupid golf ball you placed on it. He’d take the kisses you’d pepper his face with each time he’d bend his knee to his chest without your hands helping him fold it.

He’d take that look you were donning right there on his lap, your eyes going from heated to watery. Brows pinched. Mouth-gaped.

He’d take it like a fucking champ, and he’d be proud of it.

"Johnny,” you breathed, steadying yourself with your palms on his shoulder.

The bastard smirked; lips parted as he caught his breath.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheek. His thumb rubbed at your jawline and his fingers threaded through your hair. “How are ye so bloody beautiful, eh?”

You almost melted right then and there.

You huffed. Breathless and shaky. You leaned your cheek against his palm – perfect fit. One could hear the clicking sound it would’ve made as it fell into place.

“Gonna have to cross tha' from our achievements list." You slurred, your words as wobbly as your lips.

He hated your bloody achievements list, but he’d take that one, too.

His voice was raspy. Scratched you in all the right places. “We should put a reward for each one you tick off, mh?”

You blushed.

You did, and you weren't even ashamed of it. How many people could say that their significant other made them flush even after years together? You bet very fucking few.

Because Johnny made your heart stutter like the first time although it had been years you two shared the same bed. Johnny made your chest swell, your cheeks pink, and your panties wet even after he'd seen you naked and bent however he pleased – and he could do that with a very visible craniotomy scar on the side of his head.

You gave him a knowing look, though.

"Just a kiss," you replied, sounding a little too patronizing. Almost as if you were scolding him. "The doc said no sex, Johnny."

Indeed, now he almost looked like a child who just had his favorite new toy snatched away. A feigned pout, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. “Not even a tiny bit?”

He looked utterly gorgeous, even when he acted like this – normally, it would’ve driven you up a wall.

The blue of his irises was now a mere halo around widened, dark pupils. He took a greedy handful of the meaty part of your hip. His other hand journeyed from your jawline to your bum, and he wasn’t parsimonious there either, as he curled his fingers around the plush skin.

"What even is a tiny bit of sex, Johnny?” You huffed. Before he could reply, because you saw that cheek in his eyes, “And for the love of Christ – Don't say just the tip.”

He grinned, caught red-handed.

You fixed him with a blank stare.

And then, you spouted all the knowledge you had acquired during these months while he slept away. You went full medical encyclopedia on him. "Sex increases blood pressure, which might cause weakened blood vessels in your brain to burst, potentially leading to a hemorrhagic stroke. You could -”

Johnny barked a laugh. You ended your lecture by pursing your mouth in a tight line; rolled your lips between your teeth to hide how much the sound of his genuine chuckle had affected your heart.

He absolutely demolished you with a sentence only.

“But I sat up today, sweetheart.”

Your shoulders deflated. Utterly powerless.

He pinched the air between thumb and forefinger in the space between your faces, “Just a glimpse, yeah?”

You scoffed and briefly looked down at the spot where he’d placed you in. All by himself, no help from you whatsoever. You were so fucking proud it made you arrhythmic.

You settled on a glimpse.

Gingerly, you grasped the hem of your (his) tee and pulled it off your head. You tossed it in a vague direction behind you, eyes focused on his. Deft fingers went to unhook your own bra, and you let it fall.

Sitting up on your knees, which gave him a very nice close-up of your breasts (the lad went cross-eyed at the sight), you hooked your fingers at the waistband of your sweatpants. With one motion, you took down both pants and underwear, which pooled at your knees.

You leaned back, sitting on your rear, and pulled them both off your ankles. Much like your sorry t-shirt, they landed somewhere on the bedroom floor.

Planting your feet on each side of his thighs, you kept your knees spread and leaned back on your palms, as if to say There, enjoy.

"Better?"

Johnny’s eyes darkened instantly at the sight before him. You looked wet already for reasons unknown to him. Poor man couldn't grasp the idea that no matter how he looked, he'd always make your heart race and your cunt glisten.

Johnny slowly rubbed the back of his fingers against his lips.

“Better,” you heard him rasp.

You nodded imperceptibly, eyes never leaving his. You raised a hand and drew a map of your body with your finger, tracing a path he’d hopefully follow again, one day.

It started from your mouth, fingertip tugging at your lower lip until it bounced back into place. Then down your chin, down the curve of your throat, traveling in the valley of your breasts.

"You behave, Johnny," you breathed, letting your own hand grab a handful of your breast and squeeze. The fat bulged between the grooves of your fingers.

"Follow PT.” You pulled at your nipple, "Take your meds, do as the doctors say."

Your palm snaked down your belly until it reached your core. You spread your lips for him with your fingers, "And I'll be your first meal after recovery."

Johnny’s eyes followed your hand, hypnotized. He swore his mouth watered and he thought this wasn’t much of a reward as it was torture.

His heart throbbed against his ribs, and his eyes clocked yours once more.

“I’ll behave,” he promised, his voice thick with an unspoken need – and he would.

Johnny decided that he’d take this, too. Fucking hell he would.

Your lips quirked to the side, trying to hide the small smile of delight. The only thing you wanted was for him to get better. Small steps: he had already managed to sit up in bed by himself, so maybe the next step would be to stand up on his own, one day.

Then walk. Then run. Then train at the gym, or take you out for dinner. Fuck you senseless into the mattress. Get on his knees to make a meal out of you. Or get on one knee, holding out a ring.

And by God, if what he needed was a reward – he'd get it. Honestly, if it would help him improve, you'd give it to him every bloody day. You’d bend, break, turn, and fucking dance if he asked. As long as he stayed here, alive.

You were unabashedly wet, so there was barely any friction as you plunged middle and forefinger inside your core. You hissed at the sensation – pleasure and pain. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes closing just briefly.

You should've been embarrassed about the sound your own cunt made when you slid them out, but the way Johnny's eyes widened made you anything but. His hand dropped from his mouth onto his thigh, limp.

Utterly disarmed himself.

Sticky and wet with arousal, you placed your fingers on his lips, gently pushing them inside to rest on his tongue.

"Good man, Johnny," you breathed, your own heart thrumming, "So fucking proud of you.”

Johnny’s chest warmed and his eyes flickered between your own, his tongue automatically coming forward to taste you on your fingers. His cheek hollowed as he sucked, which did absolutely nothing to the already dripping state of you.

You scissored your fingers against his tongue, “Take it.”

His eyes fluttered closed. Sweet and salty, ambrosia on his tastebuds. The tang of you, forever impressed in his mind – a man parched of what he used to drink almost daily and had been denied for months. He thought it had been criminal of you to take it away from him for so long.

And while this totally wasn’t the most appropriate moment to think about it, he realized that you never denied him anything that wasn’t for his own good.

He did it to himself.

Which made him angry. Which prompted his hand to flit up and wrap around your wrist to keep your fingers there, snug in the cavity of his mouth – wishing he could never part from them.

The humming sound of pleasure vibrated through your hand, and you shivered in response. He grunted in a low, husky murmur – words barely muffled by your fingers, “I want my reward, pet.”

Your own eyes were hooded and heavy. He looked perfect, despite that thick scar on the side of his head. Actually, the fact that he was still here, in this plane of existence, with his brain injury - somehow alive, by sheer miracle - made him even more perfect.

You took your fingers out of his mouth. Johnny begrudgingly released them with a pop. He looked flushed and ravenous. It would’ve scared you, the voracity in his eyes, if you weren’t already accustomed to it – known it like your own, same hunger that’d been festering in your lower stomach for months.

You helped him lay back down again, making sure his head would fall softly against the pillow, back flat on the mattress. You stretched out like a cat, settling yourself on your knees between his legs.

Resting your palms against his thighs, feeling the taut muscle underneath, your fingers gently scraped over the fabric of his sweatpants. The obvious tent he sported imperceptibly twitched in reflex.

You grazed the bulge with your nails. Johnny shuddered.

Only then, you curled your fingers at the waistband of his sweats and slowly pulled down, exposing him. His cock bounced back against his abdomen once it unhooked from the elastic of his boxers.

It was your mouth’s turn to water. You’d seen him naked several times in the past one hundred and eighty-four days, but the purposes were very much different. Of course, it wasn’t only him that had to refrain from intimacy. While you could, well, DIY your way to bliss, it clearly wasn’t enough, because your body was reacting dramatically at the mere sight.

Your hand almost darted at the base. Johnny’s hips gave a tiny jerk, and you could hear the lack of sounds coming from him. He was holding his breath, almost in anticipation of what he knew would happen.

Thankfully he’d always been vocal, and when you gave the first stroke, Johnny absolutely melted. Quite literally, you saw him deflate against the pillows as if he were made of wax and your hand was fire. His lips parted in a whine you hadn’t heard in ages. Or maybe never. At all.

You decided you wanted to hear that again. Fucking pronto.

You started slowly, stroking up and down the way you knew he liked. Dragging the skin over the tip, using the honestly baffling amount of precum as lube.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Johnny always looked gorgeous, and during sex, he looked like a god.Made to worship and praise. Now, his eyes were half closed. The narrow space visible was white – he had rolled back his eyes. Lips parted by heavy pants. Brows tight, as if he was concentrating.

Because he was.

“Slow down,” he drawled, seemingly unable to have his mouth follow along with his thoughts. “Fuck, plea-“, he whined, again. That sound you were looking for. Goddamn music that could feel like silk to the touch.

Your thighs squeezed together for some needed friction, and you did as he asked. He exhaled shakily, fully closing his eyes to get a grip. Johnny’s jaw clenched. He gritted his teeth, releasing a sharp breath from his nose.

Slowly, you bent at the waist, shifting a little on your knees. Your face was right next to his length as you held it up by the base, stroking languidly.

Johnny felt your breath hit his shaft and his eyes snapped open. You saw how his chest stuttered, eyelid twitching at the sight. How the indent of your spine drew a curve that tipped at your ass, tilted up. The lashes framing your doe eyes fluttering right next to his cock. Your lips pink, as if they might have caught teeth. The sheen of his precum around your fingers.

Johnny could’ve come right then and there.

To prevent it, he slid his eyes shut again. It was useless, because he felt that plush mouth he loved oh, so dearly, leave a trail of slow kisses from his base up to his angry-red tip. Johnny hissed a string of curses, wringing his eyes closed until his lids wrinkled.

You lingered a little more on his tip with your lips barely grazing it, tasting the salt of him and reveling in the desperation he was showing. Not a bad thing – this wasn’t that kind of torment you hated to see. Indeed, you liked it.

Very much so.

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Look at me, baby.”

Johnny could only oblige; however, he did beg whatever deity up there to give him enough resolve not to cum on your hand. His eyes drifted open and the sight of you, once again, threatened to have him end the moment way too soon.

He gulped. A fruitless endeavor, because his mouth was dry and his throat stuck. He parted his lips to mumble something. Something incoherent and jumbled because his brain was haywire.

Whatever he had to say, however, came out as a choked sound. Your lips parted further and wrapped around his head. Your heavy-lidded gaze locked with his much too wide eyes, and Johnny crumbled once and for all.

“Christ,” was the first sensed word he growled. His head fell back against the pillow, but that made you still.

He moaned again. Not that sound you liked, but more like a lament – why did you stop. Your mouth left his shaft with a sonorous pop. His head lifted and he glowered – how dare you.

“Eyes on me, Johnny.”

His breath hitched, and he thought you couldn’t have looked more beautiful. His eyes softened at the order, and he gave a simple nod, trying not to look as desperate as he felt and failing spectacularly.

You grinned, and he corrected himself: you could look more beautiful.

Whatever devoted thought was about to cross his mind was stopped in its tracks when you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. Tortuously slow.

You used your hand at the base to slap the head against the flat of your tongue while your other palm rested on his thigh, feeling how he tensed beneath you. Only then, your lips returned around his cock. The muscles in his neck bulged and the tendons tightened, resisting the urge to just flop back once again.

His hips gave yet another tiny jerk, and he bit his bottom lip. "Careful, pet," he warned you, his voice strained against the rock lodged in the back of his throat.

He reached down and grasped at your hair but did not pull, simply just holding on to give you a sense of where his hands were. He wished he could sit up and ram his cock down the back of your throat. He knew you’d take it – fuck, he knew. 

But he’d used enough strength to gain the current reward, which was also the other reason why his muscles felt too syrupy to hold him up.

The tight grip on your hair almost made your eyes roll back at the promise of what it could’ve meant. The memories of how good he’d guide your head down his length made your cunt flutter around nothing.

You dived down until his tip reached the back of your throat. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to breathe from your nose.

“God, sweetheart,” he moaned. Didn’t growl, or groan. John fucking MacTavish moaned, and you were unsure whether you liked this more than the gruff sounds you were used to.

You rose up again and then rammed down. Up, and down. Again, and again. And Johnny thought he could’ve cried. His chest heaved and his lungs burned – struggling to keep up with his rapid intake of air. His thighs tensed.

“Just like tha’.” He stuttered, voice cracking at the edges, “Yes, love. Yes.”

It took a lot of him not to collapse right back against the pillow and just enjoy the feeling and the obscene sounds you were making. And while his eyes stayed focused on you because you had commanded so, he also didn’t want to deprive them of the sight that you were.

You knew his tells: breathy voice, taut quadriceps, those tiny jerks of his hips to meet your mouth. Your hand curled at the base to help you out in your endeavor, stroking lightly and twisting as your mouth still worked. Your eyes locked on him, lidded and watery. Tears down your flushed cheeks.

A fucking sight alright, Johnny thought.

With the last spurs of strength left in his body, he selfishly pushed your head down, burying your nose in his curls. He groaned a desperate “Oh, fuck”, lifted his hips to meet you halfway. With a shudder, you felt him empty himself down your throat.

The grip he had on your hair tightened to the point of delicious pain, stinging your scalp. Johnny's legs went stiff under your touch. His cock twitched, buried deep down your throat, as spit and cum bubbled at the corners of your stuffed mouth.

You didn’t fight how your eyes rolled back this time. Struggling to breathe through your nose as you obediently swallowed.

Johnny allowed himself to collapse back against the pillow. Unfocused and dazed. The way his orgasm hit, like a needle puncturing his brain, made him think that maybe you were right and he’d gone and done it – the hemorrhagic stroke, or whatever it was you said.

When you finally pulled back, Johnny looked down at you with hooded eyes. His chest was still rising and falling at an alarming pace. And just when he thought it was over, that the bliss had regrettably ended, you locked eyes with him. His mouth went dry again.

He slowly let the grip on your hair go to allow you some freedom to move. He reached out to touch the side of your face. His thumb skimmed your lower lip, smearing the spit and what was left of him on your cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly – more than just a compliment.

You blushed. As if your cheeks could get any redder.

After tucking him back into his pants and sweats, Johnny beckoned your face closer to his. You followed his guidance, only to have him curl his fingers at the nape of your neck to tilt your head, and let his lips meet yours.

He didn’t kiss your hungrily. He savored you, allowing your lips to slot, and your tongues to mold. He tasted himself on you, and you tasted yourself on him.

Johnny tucked you under his arm, guiding you to rest your head on his chest like before.

You looked up at him, a cheeky smile on your lips. Tapped your fingers over his heaving chest.

“Slow breaths,” you instructed, “Keep the blood pressure low, baby.”

He huffed, “Fuck off, darling.”

You laughed and nuzzled against him. Johnny could only chuckle with you – could only think you were a vision. And when your face lifted to prop your chin on his chest so your eyes could meet, when your smile beamed in his direction, he was sure you were one.

"Now will you," you tapped his nose with your finger, "Cooperate a little more?”

Johnny snorted.

His lips curled into a tiny smirk. His cheeks were flushed as well, a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His eyes were droopy and a little dreamy when he took you in. You looked so beautiful his heart could’ve stopped, and if that were to be the last thing he saw, he would've died a happy man.

You were proud of him, and for the first time, he was proud of himself, too.

He fell silent and only basked in your glow, reveling in the sunlight you brought. The arm that held you by your waist traveled upwards, and he curled it around your head. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tangling with some of your hair as well.

And Johnny thought he’d take it. He’d take it any day.

“Get that achievements list,” he whispered, “Wanna cross that shite myself.”

[ceilidho]

Dear mother,

will there (in your own time) ever be a follow up / part two of your infamously delicious superstore (johnnyxreader) story?

Sincerely, you long lost parasocial child

(can I claim 🦋 anon?)

probably not sorry 😭 I have way too many other projects ongoing rn or just things I desperately want to get to in the future. Once I finish a fic, I very rarely revisit it 🥲

I’m so glad you liked it though!! Eventually I will have more soap/reader of course!!! ❤️❤️

[total-killer-brainrot]

Writing Master List

Hey there, I'm Vi. I have just recently gotten into writing after years of loving filthy slasher smut. 

This is a masterlist of all of my fanfics so far. And hopefully there will be many more added in future!

All my fics are also on AO3!

Please enjoy <3

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Johnny Slaughter

Choose Fuck NSFW JohnnyxReader

Knock Knock NSFW JohnnyxReader

Bounce Back Better NSFW JohnnyxReader

Blood Runner NSFW JohnnyxReader

Siphon NSFW JohnnyxLelandxReader

Hurt Pride

Warmed Up NSFW JohnnyxReader

Unrelenting NSFW JohnnyxReader

Pack Animal NSFW JohnnyxReader

Scream

Ghostface

Under the Blade NSFW GhostfacexReader

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Two’s a Party, Three’s a Crowd NSFW BillyLoomisxStuMacherxReader

Bloody Aftermath NSFW BillyLoomisxStuMacherxReader

Joy Ride

Rusty Nail

Pit Stop NSFW RustyNailxReader

Hey There Stranger NSFW RustyNailxReader

House of Wax

Bo Sinclair

Father Please NSFW BoSinclairxReader

Hazbin Hotel

Alastor

Remote Broadcast NSFW AlastorxReader

[small-sinclair]

Hi, begging for a part 2 of the Johnny Slaughter a/b/o fic please

His Mate

The first part

A/b/o!Johnny Sawyer x humanfem!reader

Let me know if you want a part three!

Tw: blood, mention of death and gore, not proofread

Johnny looks at you up and down, his eyes wavering between anger, disbelief, and admiration. He was mad that you were human. He couldn’t believe you were human and fated to him! But your beauty and the way your body curved the way it did… Johnny wanted to bury his nose into your skin and drown in your blood and scent. He would see it as a blessing and a grateful death.

Then the thought of you being human came back and he hated himself more. He didn’t want you to be human and have his mate be weak and vulnerable! He’s the strongest one in his family and proved it to other packs around his home; you’ll only bring down his status. He could hate you for that and kill you—

“No,” he whispers, backing away as a vision came to his mind. He saw you writhing in pain as his claws ripped your stomach out. He could feel how warm your blood would be and how tangy it smelt. “No, I won’t,” he says more to himself under his breath.

Seeing you in the golden light as the sun set over the sunflowers only broke him even more. How could he hurt you?

Confused your hands reach out towards him before pulling them away after watching him physically flinch. He could hurt you in every way that matters but he couldn’t do it. He only gets one mate. He only gets one true love and it’s you. It had to be you.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you hugged your arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, don’t apologize. Not to me,” he sounded so sincere. He stood in front of you once more and rested his head on top of your hair, breathing in the sweet roses from your body. It sent chills down his spine and made his bones curled and crave for your name to be carved into them. “Don’t apologize to me, darlin’.”

He was warm against your body and held you as if you were an egg. You could hear his heartbeat and see how he was taking slow and deep breaths. “What’s your name?”

“Johnny,” he answers, his arms wrapping around your waist and the back of your head. “I’m Johnny.”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and protection as he shielded you from the killings outside. “I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful human.” He held you tighter as he heard Nubbins trap go off and the sound of Sissy’s laughter. He didn’t want to meet you like this. Not here.

“So, you’re a werewolf?” You asked as you felt his arms tense. Through his shirt, you could feel claw marks and slashes, faded bite marks and stab wounds.

He nodded as he kisses your head, his lips lingering for a moment. He closed his eyes as he felt his claws growing. Someone in his family was coming near his home, near you. His dark eyes glared at the entrance and a primal growl ripped through his body. He didn’t have to answer your question as you watched small patches of black and brown fur grow on his arms and hear his bones breaking.

“Johnny—?”

He held you tight as he began his transformation, his claws ripping the back of your jacket. His fur was thick and you could smell a mixture of soil and death on his skin. A large black tail wrapped around your back as his body swallowed you in his hold. He was looking at something, growling at someone, but you didn’t know what or who.

But he knew all too well.

Nancy stood in his little living with her knife as she looked both horrified and annoyed at him. Her eyes looked between him and the back of your head. She wasn’t a fool; she knew you were his mate and hated it. She didn’t want to lose Johnny to you or be seen with a human. Maybe it was the fear of losing him to you to hunters that made her want to kill you herself, but you ran and Johnny found you first. And, from where she was standing, he already worshipped your body and scent by the way he covered himself around you.

His black eyes narrowed at the knife in her hands and snapped his jaw at her, baring his teeth as a warning. The snarl the grew from the back of his throat only rumbled through your skin and core. It was as if he was claiming you as his own even before he could mark you.

Nancy shook her head and backed away, anger burning in her eyes like a wild fire. “You’re a damn fool, Johnny. Y’all bring down this pack with that she-devil.”

He held you even tighter as he snarled once more, growling deeper through his teeth, daring her to come closer. He wasn’t in his true form but he’ll change just to prove his point not to question him. He still had his human features, but his claws and bits of fur showed along with his tail. He felt his ears for and changing, and he felt his back breaking and building as if he was going to be a full wolf, to be a full beast. He’ll do that just to prove you’re his mate, his little omega human.

His thoughts bursted when he heard you gasp softly. As he looked down, he saw his claws digging into your back. He fell with you on your knees on the floor. Nancy smirked and let out a dry laugh. “You’ll kill her, boy. I’ll bet that.”

His eyes snapped back at her and said in a dark tone, “Get out.”

“Admit I’m right.”

“I said get out!” He roared, his fangs growing longer until he felt his face changing into a wolf’s, a beast. “Get!” He brought down his fist to the wooden floor, breaking the wood as if it was nothing, and earned a frightened flinch from Nancy.

Without another word, Nancy turns and leaves. She could feel how her own claws were growing and digging to into her own hand. One thing for certain is that she will have you dead before the next full moon, before he could even claim you as his own.

With her gone, Johnny had you sitting on his lap as she cradled you, rocking back and forth, and his face returning to normal. His black eyes locked into yours and he felt as if he was about to break. You had tears falling; he made you cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with regret in his words. He leaned down and kisses your tears away. “I didn’t mean to hurtcha.” He rested his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

Your hand rests on his cheek and he melts at the touch, nearly breaking at your fingertips. He shudders as he smelt the roses again and a hint of honey and lavender, but he loved how soft your skin was.

“Johnny?” You asked, your voice bringing him back. “Will you be alright?”

For the first time, he didn’t know the answer. But he takes a deep breath and kisses your palm. “Should be,” he answers lowly, kissing your wrist then knuckles. “Let me clean your wound, please? Let me make it up to ya.” His black eyes faded to a deep, rich brown as he looked down into yours. “Promise, little mate, I’ll take care of you.”

Something inside you trusted him even though you should be running from him. Everything felt a bit unorthodox and rushed like some fairy tale, but what other choose do you have? He could kill you like he did to your friends or that woman could do it for him. Main reason to stay was that he was a good kisser, so you have that going for you.

You nodded your head slightly as he leaned into your hand. He looked kind of cute and comfortable once more in your presence. Just having you there was enough to reassure him that he was a good man, a good alpha worthy of love even if you’re a human.

He’ll prove to you he’s worthy of your love. You are his mate, his love, his omega. Let him love you the way he never has.

[dc41896]

Prove It

✨Pairing✨: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: Johnny makes an already bad situation 10 times worse

⚠️: Angst, Mentions of drinking

“That’s it. The Thing!,” he smiled gesturing up towards the large screen in the arena displaying Ben’s face. “If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen him before.”

“Jesus Johnny, you really gotta learn to shut up,” you speak to yourself hearing his voice drift from the living room flat screen to the hall closet containing the washer and dryer. You’d think after all this time he’d have learned the simple skill, but then again this was Johnny Storm you were talking about. Infamous hot-headed playboy who always gave the cameras and press a good show.

“So Johnny, all these lovely ladies, and those watching, are dying to know if one of New York’s finest is looking for a Mrs. Torch?,” the interviewer smirks throwing a wink to the camera.

The trio of groupies around him with their hands gripping and rubbing his biceps and back didn’t bother you. You were used to the gawking and glances any time you were out together. Even his hesitation and signature smoldering grin didn’t make you falter, knowing he was probably trying to find some witty remark to get around the question. This wasn’t the first time he’d been asked, and each time he’d skate by leaving the public still wondering. The aftermath of their rescue on the bridge trying to get to Ben quickly showed how famous they’d become, and how noticeably more private he was when it came to you and not wanting to subject you to jealous and judgmental eyes. At least that’s what he told you.

What upset you was watching him place his arms around two of the women before kissing the third on the cheek and simply replying with “next question.”

“Excuse me?,” you ask to no one but yourself being home alone with just your new puppy, Sparks. At your change in attitude, the spotted Dalmatian was standing at your foot with front paws pressed to your calf seemingly saying “don’t be upset mom,” with his deep, cocoa eyes and wagging tail.

“I’ll be back bubs. That is unless I get arrested for murder,” you sweetly scratch behind his ears before collecting your keys and purse.

———

Shoes tapping against the concrete, the remaining three members of the team arrived at just the right time seeing Johnny proudly saunter out the arena with the same three women stuck to his sides.

“There he is,” Sue pointed, frustrated as she made her way to her little brother ready to give him a piece of her mind.

You were a bit quicker though.

“Johnny!,” you sternly called getting his, and seemingly everyone else outside’s attention. Halting in place, his boyish smile never leaves his face as he excuses himself before stepping closer to you.

“So this is what we do now?!”

“Hey relax, it’s nothing,” he smoothly replies in a hushed tone. “Just…catering to the fans you know?”

“Pretty sure you can do that without kissing someone. Then to say next question?!”

“It didn’t mean anything! It was innocent and on the cheek. Like kissing your grandma.”

“You know that’s not the point.”

“Listen, we can do this later alright-,”

“Oh I’m sorry, am I interrupting your time with your friends?,” you sarcastically ask feigning regret with hand over you chest. “Please go ahead, and totally disregard your girlfriend.”

“Why are you doing this? I told you it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me though Johnny!”

“God, at least let me actually cheat on you first before you treat me like I did!,” he angrily counters further stilling the crowd around you. As soon as the weight of his words really hit him, he knew he’d messed up. Plus seeing your watering eyes before you looked down, unable to stand the sight of his face, only solidified that thought.

“That didn’t come out right, you know I didn’t mean-,”

“No, I don’t Johnny,” you state meeting his eyes once more just as the first tear fell. “Not anymore.”

He tried grabbing your hand, quickly wishing he could take his words back and turn back time to completely redo the conversation, but you pulling your arms inward to cross over your chest as you turned away told how he’d be better off leaving you alone when your mouth found it hard to.

“Nice going Johnny,” Sue chides brushing past to comfort you.

“I kinda feel bad for balling up his Porsche now,” Ben whispers to Reed, but apparently not quiet enough as the human flame immediately turned to look at the two with annoyance.

———

It had been a month now since that very publicized day, and Johnny couldn’t get the hurt on your face out of his mind. Even if he wanted to, with the pictures and video from that day plastered all over every news and magazine outlet he had no choice but to confront your doe eyes for about two weeks.

He tried calling, texting, even stopping by your apartment some days knocking and pleading for you to open the door. Each time he heard nothing, having to retreat to the Baxter Building with head hung low as he rode the private elevator to the top floor. Everyone around him of course noticed his more melancholy mood and tried to get his mind off things, but he wouldn’t entertain them for long as he mostly stayed quiet. On his off days, or after missions, he’d stay in his room watching some random show on tv, not really paying attention as his mind was stuck wondering what you were doing. If you were missing, or thinking, of him the way he did you.

His best friend from his time at NASA wouldn’t have this new, solemn Johnny though, persistent in his efforts to get him out the now stale smelling room.

“You can’t stay in there all day man, let’s go out and get some air,” Bradley stated through the phone.

“I’m just not up for it right now B,” Johnny sighs fixing his second bowl of cereal for the day.

“Why don’t we just go to a bar, get something to eat, maybe watch a game or two, then come home? Cmon J, I hate to see you like this.”

Going against his better judgment, he decided to take his friend’s offer seeing nothing wrong with a couple beers and good food in the midst of company he probably needed.

Only if the night went that way though.

One beer led to a shot from the bartender hearing how he was recently heartbroken, which turned into a mix of shots and beers from other patrons who heard of his pain or wanted to show their appreciation for one fourth of the Fantastic Four. Now here he was under his crumpled sheets with a throbbing head and genuinely confused how he got back. He didn’t have too much time to think at the soft knocks at the door that sounded anything but.

“Hang on!,” he speaks immediately regretting his raised tone as his palm went to his forehead applying the slightest bit of pressure trying to offset the new pounding. He doesn’t even bother trying to cover himself figuring that it was more than likely Reed or Sue at the door trying to get him to eat something with more sustenance than Cheerios. However, opening the door to see you in your light blue summer dress that clung to all your curves and gave a slight tease of your legs from the split that climbed to mid-thigh, he wished he’d look more presentable than being in his boxer briefs.

“Bab- I mean, uh h-hey,” he stammers feeling his own eyes light up and nerves take over at the sight of you after all this time.

“Hey. Sorry to show up unannounced like this,” you nervously state with hands fidgeting behind your back. The rest of the team told you how he’d been awful since that day, staying inside and barely talking to anyone which definitely wasn’t like the Johnny you knew. Now standing in front of him you could see it for yourself, instantly noticing the dark circles around his eyes along with the growing hair and five o’clock shadow along his jaws. Although a bit sadder, those ocean eyes still had a vice grip on you reluctantly making your heart swoon.

Also, the view of his naked torso toned like the rest of his body didn’t help with trying to dissuade the swooning.

“No it’s okay, I understand. I hurt you and you needed time.”

“I should’ve said that though. It would’ve been more mature than-,”

“Torch, I’m using your shower really quick before I go,” you both hear a dainty voice announce from the bathroom after the flush of the toilet. An awkward silence overtakes the both of you as your stomach churns at this new girl and Johnny finally remembers last night, but only in glimpses.

“Not now,” he mentally groaned leaning his head against the edge of the door kicking himself at his dumb decisions. He practically had you in his grasp, but now he’d probably be lucky to ever see you again.

“Y/N I know this looks bad-,”

“I have to go,” you quickly reply, hurriedly making your way down the hall before any tears could fall or the acid coming up your throat would overflow. A bit dizzy, Johnny kept up with you. Feet padding along until he could reach out to gently grab your arm and turn you around to face him.

“Just let me explain-,”

“There’s nothing to explain. You went out and obviously had fun. I mean we’re basically on a break so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” you sniff trying to hold back your tears until you could at least get to the elevator.

“That’s the thing, I didn’t mean to. I-I got drunk and don’t remember-,” he tries to explain but stops as soon as a small envelope is removed from your purse and placed in his hand. “What’s this?”

At your hesitation to answer him, he pulls the flap back removing a black and white picture of what looked like a pea in a bubble with a red arrow pointing towards the pea. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, but the “four weeks” at the bottom has his heart rate beginning to increase.

“Congratulations, you’re gonna be a dad.”

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @ladydmalfoy @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[pjmsneverland]

And They Were Roommates

Previous part: 1

Warning: mention of emetophobia, angst (if you squint. Reader’s whole personality trait is hating Jaehyun), themes of infidelity, smut. I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything! Enjoy <3

“What do you mean she threw up on you?”

“Dude I was about to finish and next thing I know-”

You’re sat on the couch perched by the table completing a jigsaw puzzle while Johnny sits at the bar conversing with Jaehyun about one of his sex horror stories that you begin to zone in on for a moment but quickly regret it, putting your airpods back in. You had the day off today but you were out of the house for most of it, running errands and catching up with Mark before you two had to part due to his schedule. You couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that ignited whenever his lips met yours when you prepped to part ways because you felt like a cheater and he was the last person on earth that deserved to be backstabbed after everything he did for you. Looking up from your puzzle you spot Johnny peering over at you mouthing words you are unable to make out with your airpods in as your hand comes up to take one out he reiterates.

“We’re gonna catch a movie later.” He says, not asking you but instead informing you.

“What if I don’t wanna go?” You counter.

His expression shows he’s taken aback as he plants his hands on his chest and parts his lips letting out a gasp.

“Did you just say you hate me and that I should die?”

Rolling your eyes and letting out a chuckle you shake your head at his melodramatic attitude. You didn’t mind going to catch a movie with him; you’d done it before and the night ended in him having to restrain himself from uttering another word since every syllable he uttered had you clutching your stomach in laughter.

“I’ll be ready.” You assure him.

“Thank god, Jaehyun, how boring of a roommate are you to have her doing a puzzle on a Saturday night?” He exclaims, flailing his arms around. Your eyes fall on him who is already staring at you with that sharp gaze that makes you wanna run to your room and never come out.

“Not my fault she doesn’t know how to hold a conversation.”

“Why would I want to hold a conversation with you?”

Your tone is sharp, matching your eyes that shoot daggers at him from across the room. It’s not that you aren’t aware of the fact that talking back only fuels the fire between the two of you but you refused to let him have the last word especially after the crap he pulled last time he got you alone. Did he not feel even an ounce of the guilt you felt for what he caused? Him and Mark have been friends way before the two of you lived together. So much for bro code.

“Afraid you might fuck around and like me?” He teases, tongue in cheek with his words while you feel the hair on your skin stand up and your nostrils flare in annoyance so much you nearly forget about Johnny who’s eyes dart between the two of you incessantly.

“Fuck off.” Your jaw clenches as you look at him with the looming urge to punch him in his beautiful face.

“If you guys are gonna fight, at least let me pop some corn.” Johnny quips, laughing at his own joke while you raise a questioning brow at him.

“No? Tough crowd.”

Deciding it’s best to step away for a bit you excuse yourself to your room with the excuse that you’ve left to get ready for the movie. Taking your time to pick out clothes after doing your makeup which you figure is a slight waste since you would be in the dark for the majority of the night but you were desperate to pass the time in your room and you ruled out starting another series on Netflix. Looking over yourself in the mirror you take your phone to glance over your notifications and they hold no substance until a ding sounds and your finger taps on the text message from Mark.

Mark <3: Missing you :(

Your heart swells and deflates at the words on your screen. Even though you did not act on your sudden attraction for Jaehyun you did only an ounce of what you could have to stop him from touching you the way he did but it was still wrong of you to think of another person while you were in a happy and healthy relationship.

You: Miss you too, bub.

Your fingers press send as a knock sounds at your door, startling you.

“Yeah?” You answer, rubbing your glossy lips with another coat of product.

“We’re ready when you are.” Jaehyun’s voice sounds from behind the door causing you to stiffen at the sound of it, hating yourself for wanting to feel his breath on your lips while he utters filthy words to you.

“Be out in a sec!”

You utter a ‘fuck’ under your breath hastily searching for your bag and trailing over to your door to whip it open before your face nearly collides with a chest but your hand squeezes the door knob for leverage and peers up at the face that belongs to the body you nearly crashed into. Your eyes are wide like a deer in headlights before you clear your throat to compose yourself.

“S-sorry I didn’t know you were still behind the door-”

His eyes trail over your attire making you gulp at the way he feels no need to be subtle.

“Can you chill? Seriously, you don’t have to be a fucking cunt all the time.” You spit, before shoving him to the side and turning the corner where you meet Johnny's line of sight, falling into a conversation quickly. His head tilts in resignation at your attitude, he concludes he deserved that one after pushing your buttons in front of Johnny.

“I call front seat.” You chirp when you walk out of the apartment towards Johnny’s truck, hopping in with the help of the ledge that juts out when you open the door of the vehicle. You’re pressing buttons on the radio to occupy yourself while you tune out the men’s voices in the minimal space of the vehicle. The room always felt ten times smaller when Jaehyun is present, somehow sucking the energy out of you through gestures even though his comments did bother you most of the time his aura is what ticked you off.

“You remember Diana?” Johnny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you move your eyes from the radio to watch his smirking face.

“Yeah! We’ve only talked a few times but she baked me cookies for my birthday- why?”

You recall the timid girl that sat across from you in your English class occasionally asking you to get coffee and you were surprised to be approached since you were still coming out of your shell as well. She’s beautiful and you had some of the best conversations with her.

“I asked her out and she said yes.”

Your heart soars for your friend. It was easy for people to like him since he has the looks and personality everyone searches for but he never felt a deep connection with any girl he “dated”, meanwhile every girl he ever dated fell in love with him and he never stayed present long enough to catch them.

“She’s so sweet! You guys vibe?”

Jaehyun chimes in, poking at Johnny’s cheek from the backseat with a smirk.

“My boy’s in it for a good time.” He laughs, peering over at you with an indisputable look in his eye making you roll yours.

“Are you not emotionally drained making everything about sex? Where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but be bothered by his take on the subject. Sure you had your fair share of meaningless hook-ups but they all left you with that same feeling of emptiness and at your age now you only gave real relationships you feel would make you grow to be a better person with the whoever you ended up spending your life with.

“The fun is in the sex.” Answering like it is the most obvious thing in the world, his dimpled smile comes into view as he replies to your serious question and you are reminded why you despised him in the first place; no longer clouded by lust or the feeling to put all the energy you put into hating him into finding the good in him. You have seen all you needed to. The ride to the theater remains silent and you arrive, eyes looking up at the huge menu displayed on the wall behind the concession stand before your hand taps Johnny on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom.” He nods.

“Yeah, what do you want?” He gestures to the concessions.

Rummaging through your purse to hand him your credit card you scan your eyes over the menu.

“Uhh nachos and a medium pepsi.” You say while your hand is still held out waiting for his to take it. He grimaces at the sight of it.

“Take the card, Suh.” You go to grab his hand but he moves it from your vicinity, a frown forming upon your lips.

“I got it. Go.”

He flips you around, pushing you towards the restrooms before going to stand next to Jaehyun who’s waiting in line. You trail to the restroom and wash your hands hastily drying them before your eyes land on your face in the mirror. Right then your phone rings; the tone hits the walls of the restroom making it louder than you expect as your eyes read the name on the screen and your finger finds its path to the green button before you put it to your ear.

“Hey you.” You declare, adding a tinge of sultry to your voice nearly cringing when you depict it in your speech.

“Hey. How’s my favorite girl?” Mark’s voice fills your gut with butterflies and guilt all at once. The combination poisonous as it spreads to the top of your fucking skull.

“I’m alright. You done workin’?”

Your palm rubs against the counter to suppress the nerves his voice on the line induce.

“Yeah it got pretty slow so boss let me out early-”

His voice seems to fade out as the door of the restroom swings open and your neck looks up from your phone to the mirror to see who it is- expecting a stranger to walk in but Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours quickly as your lips form a thin line.

“What are you up to, baby?”

You hear the question and your senses feel like they have disconnected as he steps towards you, peering down at you while you look at the ceiling to maintain the loss of eye contact.

“Baby, you there?”

His neck cranes down, moving your hair out of the way purposely letting his fingertips graze the back of your neck.

“Y-yeah I’m actually at the theater.” You curse yourself for the way your neck automatically tilts at his touch, giving in while you struggle to remain aware of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Oh? You went alone?”

You nearly shake your head before you realize he can’t see you.

“No. I’m with Johnny and Jaehyun.” You exhale, nudging the man behind you with your elbow emitting a groan of agony from him.

“What are y’all gonna see?”

Jaehyun goes to lean on the tiled wall of the restroom, staring you down ambiguously.

“Johnny wanted me to come along so I just went along- I was actually working on a puzzle at home and now I’m in the restroom talking to you.” You ramble making your boyfriend chuckle.

“Cute. Tell the boys I say hello and let me know if you get home safe, alright?”

You hear the clicking of his car and come up with the conclusion he must be driving himself home from work now.

“Alright. Love you, bub.”

“Love you too, babe.”

The line cuts there as he hangs up and you let your hand fall from your ear, putting the phone away in your pocket. Jaehyun remains wordless with his arms crossed, jaw clenched for a reason you don’t know. Your brow raises as a way of saying ‘what was that?’

“The uh movie’s about to start.”

You nod, “I was just on my way out.”

The silence holds tension as you dry your damp palms on your jeans.

“Listen-I’m sorry, okay?-”

Your fingers fluff your hair out in the mirror idly while his eyes remain focused on you but you react in a way that shows you are not phased

“For what exactly? Making me feel guilty for feelings you have for me or being an asshole?” You spit shamelessly, recalling the way he spoke in the car.

“All of it. I shouldn’t intrude on what you and Mark have going on.” The look in his eyes shows sincerity, differing from the pompous attitude he held up in the car.

This is what you wanted so you nod; not adding or rejecting the words he says because it no longer matters. Not when you and his best friend are happily together and he cares for you much more than Jaehyun ever could because as he admitted in the car; lust is the only thing motivating him to feel anything for you. This condition was seamless, he’d leave you alone. This apology is now timelessly effective.

“Great. See ya out there.” Before he can say anything, you are out of his sight and he is left with the swinging sound of the door.

-

There’s a lot of things that come with being a girlfriend; a good one at that. There’s holding hands, gift-giving, and the occasional late-night phone conversations discussing what you would do the next time you met up with one another. Mark is one of the most affectionate people you’ve ever been with; attentive to your mood switches but never pestering you regarding the matter and when time permitted he’d fuck the absolute shit out of you. You were more than surprised with his performance given the way he usually came off gentle but you had come to find out that you judged so incorrectly.

You recall the first time it happened, laid on his bed and working on assignments since he insisted he felt most productive with you around and you obliged, taking your textbook over to his room, putting a good dent in your calculus homework until you heard him shuffling across the room to trail over to you with dark eyes, differing from the usual dark brown. His hand pushed your textbook closed, sliding it to the ground while your lips fell open in exasperation and his hand made its way to your thigh before you crane your neck up to look up from the book that was now splayed on the ground to peer up at him with a pout.

“What-”

Lips met yours and you immediately forgot about the textbook, letting your fingers tangle themselves in his bleached strands, moaning into his mouth giving the chance for his warm tongue to slide between your lips. You become aware of his hard-on rubbing your thigh, pulling away for a moment to look at him with curious eyes, a smirk decorating his slightly swollen lips.

“I don’t mean to be so straight forward but is it too early in our relationship for me to fuck you?”

Mark’s vulgar words ignite a heat in your tummy before it resides in between your legs as he presses himself between your legs.

“Nuh-uh.”

That’s all it takes for sounds of fabric tearing and you are trying to keep up with his rough kisses and quick hands that palm your breast through your shirt before he pulls it down to wrap his lips around your pert nipple and your lungs forget how to act while your back arches into his touch, forgetting how it felt to have someone pleasure you. His mouth meets yours in a searing kiss while his hands pull your white, lacey panties down before carelessly throwing them to the other side of the room and his lips trail kisses down to where you need the most attention, letting his warm breath meet your clit devoiding it of care as he sucks on the skin of your thighs surely leaving gifts for you to view later. Your whimpers are incessant as he continues his torture and his fingers brush down your slit making you shudder.

“Sensitive little thing aren’t you?”

“More please.” You plead.

His fingers rub against your entrance, coating your arousal evenly before slipping one inside of you emitting a sigh of relief from you while your back arches into his touch. It was too good that your hands found themselves going to grab at his wrist but his free hand caught them, smacking you away for you to seek shelter in the sheets around you. His lips press against your clit, softly kissing it while adding a finger to further the stretch, pumping them out at a quicker pace while the obscene sound of squelching meets the wall along with your mewls while you try not to moan too loudly. Your senses feel like they’re mushed as your vision blurs and your body vibrates as Mark hums against your pussy and before you can register it ecstasy thrums through you. Your teeth bite down on your index and you only realize when you open your eyes to peer down at your boyfriend who’s lip glistens with your release. He climbs up so his face is near yours again, your thumb gliding across his coated lips before you bring it to your mouth, giggling at nothing in particular while Mark’s gaze stays on your face. Your lips meet his for a moment before you move them down to his neck, licking and sucking at his tan skin while your hand goes to tug his length out of his shorts.  A sharp exhale from his lips encourages you to continue your movements as his skin heats up against yours and he pushes you away, pinning your wrists on either side of your head while you squeal at the swift motion but enjoy the firm grip he keeps on you.

“Tell me how bad you want me.” He whispers into your ear, letting the tip of his nose graze yours before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Your hips rise to grind your center against his length and his body presses against you to halt your advances, feeling his bare length brush against you.

“Want you so bad.” You plead shamelessly.

Flipped onto your stomach in a split second you feel his tip glide across your slit deliciously before he slips himself into you without any warning and you feel like the air is too thin to breathe in, your mind foggy with pleasure as his hips set a sensual pace while your shallow gasps sound. Your head is buried into the pillow, muffling your sounds until you feel his hand hold your neck firmly while his other hand has its fingertips pressing into your waist.

“Wanna hear you.”

You grunt in response as his pace quickens and the obscene sounds of skin against skin hits the walls and his dick brushes your g-spot repeatedly making your eyes roll to the back of your head, pushing your ass up to him automatically giving into the heat you feel unfurl through your core. His hands never stop wandering as he accommodates you by gripping your upper arms to pull you against him all while his hard thrusts never falter. You were insane for ever doubting him for even a second, mentally apologizing for your fault; for even thinking of Jaehyun the way you did when you had something so good and healthy with Mark.

“M’ gonna cum.” You declare breathlessly, laying your head on Mark’s chest while he wraps an arm around you to keep your incapable body against him while his other hand goes to play with your clit forming stars in your vision.

“T-too good.”

A chuckle rumbles through his firm chest. “You’re not gonna take what I give you baby?”

The motherfucker knows you can’t respond while his cock is literally brushing your cervix.

“Want me to stop fucking you, hm?”

In fear of him halting his movements you muster words through your shallow pants.

“No! Please make me cum!”

His hands palm your breasts, adding to the stimulation and you swear you are on cloud nine when your vision goes out for a moment but it has no importance when the most brain-wracking orgasm thrums through you while he fucks you through it holding you tighter against him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear in thin air. Peppering gentle kisses on your neck, differing to the sins he committed on your body.

“Shit.” He says when he notices the wetness on his sheets. You come to, looking down at the moisture dripping down your thighs and the wet spots on the sheets, clenching around him in embarrassment.

“Fuck, I didn’t-” You began declaring an apology before his lips meet yours, straying soon after.

“That was so fucking hot.” He smiles, pressing his lips to yours again while his hands glide all over your sweaty body.

This is good. Things are good. You just had to learn how to ignore the looming thoughts of someone you swore could beat the standard your boyfriend reached.

-

Back at the shared apartment you mostly stayed in your room working on assignments that were not due for several weeks with the hopes of avoiding Jaehyun who became strangely cordial towards you with the reciprocation of that attitude from you. This new energy between you ignited a pain within you because his apology was sincere and he backed up his words with the way he interacted with you daily. Shutting your laptop closed, you pad your way to the kitchen for a drink of water, grabbing one from the fridge hastily before chugging down half the bottle. Shuffling is heard from down the hall making you turn to see where the sound is coming from to spot a head of wet hair that leads down a bare torso to a white towel obstructing your view of the rest of your roommate’s body; not that you had any reason to want to see any of it. Jaehyun is quick to enter his room, oblivious of your stunned figure standing in the kitchen losing your breath over the sight of him. Averting your gaze back to your water bottle, you sigh out in an attempt to clear your head. All this time you put all the frustration you had pent up for him towards hating him and it made sense then but now you were simply classified as a bitch if you were mean to him when he was so nice to you now. The door of his bedroom opens again making your neck turn towards the sound of his footsteps meeting his friendly grin with a similar expression.

“You alright?” He says with a quirked brow. You nod quickly, picking up your water as a poor way to mask your fidgeting.

“Just dehydrated is all.”

He frowns, placing his hand on your forehead checking your temperature.

“What are you-”

“Feel sick at all? I know with school starting and all it’s anxiety inducing.”

The Med student in him rears its head as he takes his hand away from your forehead and glances at you intently waiting for a response while you stand with your mouth agape thinking of a coherent sentence because he’s so attractive and you are such a bad person and such a bad girlfriend.

“I-I’m alright, really. It’s very sweet of you to check.” You chuckle as a toothy smile spreads across his face and you swear you see his eyes glimmer in the kitchen's lighting. He spares you another smile before darting his eyes to a spot behind you before his gaze meets yours again.

“I’m making us dinner tonight-”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush at the way his words come out and he notices the look on your face at the way the words could be interpreted after he swore he was changing phases with you. No amount of him being a jerk would make you fall for him like an idiot-plus you are dating his best friend. Jaehyun shakes his head, scoffing at his words that he wishes he could erase from the air as he clears his throat to utter an apology to you a soft palm slaps his arm playfully.

“No way, what are you making?- Can I help?” You perk enthusiastically, looking up at him with wide eyes. He recalls that look in your eyes from New Years as you looked up at Mark with hazy eyes in your vulnerable intoxicated state but now you are fully sober and there is nothing to blame it on other than the sheer fact that you had no idea what effect you have on him. You had no clue what he was willing to put on the line for you- for just a taste-

“Jaehyun?” You repeated as he stood frozen, glaring at you with his dark eyes that blink incessantly as he snaps out of it.

“Sorry- brain’s lagging from all the studying- but why don’t you go wash up and I’ll handle dinner.”

Your lips form a frown as you become vigilant of his usual aura becoming invisible- usually he seemed so certain in all of his actions with all of the smart comments he’d shoot at you when the possibility of being cordial was never presented. The scolding water hitting your skin in the shower makes the thoughts in your head run wild. Was it a bit masochistic to say you prefer the way things were before? What was there to even talk about with him now? Climate change or the way the economy was ready to fail us all? A groan rattles through you as you slide your bare body down the tiled wall of the shower. Hating him was much more fun than this. Finally ending your pathetic excuse of a pity party you dress yourself in an oversized pullover that definitely belonged to Mark along with shorts before padding out of the steamy bathroom with your damp curls sticking to the nape of your neck. It seems Jaehyun had everything set up for dinner prior to informing you about it since the table is already set with two plates that consist of generous portions. Setting the last utensil down he looks up at you with raised brows.

“There you are. Feeling better?”

You forget what he is referring to and think you have been caught and that he somehow heard your thoughts in the shower causing you to stand rigid with wide eyes as he tilts his head awaiting an answer.

“Oh yeah. All good. Food looks great, by the way.” Your feet pad over to the chair pulling it out before sitting down feeling eyes burn a hole through your form. He takes that as his cue to take a seat across from you who struggles to meet his eyes, a visible wince evident when you finally do.

“I hope it’s not too spicy.”

You shake your head at his words, cutting a piece of the chicken on your plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes widening at how good the food is.

“No way this is actually good.”

An offended gasp comes from him. “You’re surprised I can conjure up a decent meal?”

A chuckle comes from you, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Honestly?”

His eyes form a squint along with the appearance of the craters in his cheeks. “That would be preferred.”

“Surprised is an understatement.” You jab playfully.

The tension seems to wither away as you fork away at the contents on your plate, finishing most of it before you lean back in your seat absentmindedly watching the way his jaw clenches when he chews before your eyes catch the veins in his larger hands and you don’t realize that he’s watching you gnaw on your index finger while you blatantly gawk at his hands-he swears he’s imagining the far away look on your face because although he is focusing on being better towards you that changes none of the desires he holds for you but he’s determined to stray away from the asshole you coined him as. It’s not until he goes to stand up that your eyes move up to look him in the eye.

“Let me help with the dishes.” You softly declare through your pouty lips and he swears his knees buckle at the sight of them. You’re quick on your feet when you rise from your chair, taking his plate from his hands to trail over to the sink with them, running warm water over the plates and you turn to find him bringing over the cups. You quietly thank him as you let the sponge scrub against the porcelain while his warmth radiates on to you as he stands near you. The only thing that can be heard is the water's movement while you rinse the silverware of the soapy substance before setting them on the rack to dry all while you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning into your skin. You turn your neck to meet his eyes. He sports a grin on his face as he just gazes at you in silence.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Your damp hands forget about ever washing the dishes as your eyes blink multiple times and you are struggling to generate a response.

“Of course. Thanks for dinner.”

A silent nod is all he returns before he wishes you a goodnight, leaving you breathless as you soon hear the click of his shutting bedroom door.

-

[kjmsupremacist]

(don’t stop for nothin’) you’re what I bleed (Johnny/Female Reader) PART TWO

part one   part three   |   masterlist

Genre: Fluff & Smut; Strangers to Lovers

Rating: E

Wordcount: 5.8k

Warnings: sub/dom themes, daddy kink, undernegotiated kinks (but it’s all consensual), mild degradation, alcohol use/drunk sex, semi-public sex kind of?

“Hey, um,” he begins. “So we should probably talk about last night.” You give him a nervous look, and he waves it off quickly. “No, no, I just—um. We did a lot of things that I didn’t really—ask if they were okay before I did them. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood and—well. It was a little irresponsible of me, so I apologize. I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Johnny,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “If I didn’t like it, I would’ve told you so. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t okay with any of it.”

“I figured, I just wanted to check,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I mean I did—I did call you a slut, which is a word my mother would beat my ass for saying if she knew. And she’s probably right.”

“You’re such an interesting person,” you comment, amused, and he blinks at you, at a loss. “Okay, so for the record—yes, I did like that, so stop worrying. But it’s just so funny to me, that you can be so—well, like that in the bedroom, but still manage to be so like this otherwise.”

“I try my best to be responsible,” he says, laughing a little. “I know I can get intense.”

“Well,” you say, resting your elbow on the counter and your cheek on your palm, “I like intense.”

You don’t remember Johnny drawing the blinds closed the night before, but he must have, because when you wake up, the room is completely dark. You’ll have to ask what brand of blackout curtains he has, because if someone told you it was still nighttime, you’d believe them.

Or, you would, if you didn’t smell the faintest hint of coffee.

Johnny’s side of the bed is empty, but still warm, so he can’t have been up for long. Groaning, you sit up and mentally assess your body. You’re sore all over, the sting on your ass especially prominent, but you relish in the ache. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything like that, so you can’t complain.

You slip out of bed and pad over to the windows, squinting against the dark so you don’t trip and die. You find the control pad on the wall and tap it to turn it on, and then press the button to raise the blinds. The machinery whirs to life, a low hum breaking the silence of the room, and immediately, bright sunlight spills across the floor, blinding you temporarily. You find the blanket Johnny had lent you last night, and wrap it around your shoulders before making your careful way downstairs.

Johnny is in the kitchen, cooking, when you enter. He turns, seeing you out of the corner of his eye, and gives you a bright smile. He’s wearing a cute t-shirt and pajama shorts, and a dumb little blue apron.

“Good morning,” he says. “Would you like some coffee? I washed out the French press.” He nods at it, sitting on the counter. “Coffee is in the cupboard, and cream is in the fridge.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, going to make yourself some. “What are you cooking? It smells nice.”

“Pancakes,” he says. “I hope that’s okay. You don’t have any allergies, do you?”

You laugh. “No, I don’t. Pancakes sound great.”

You slip into a seat, coffee percolating happily in the press, and watch him cook. You can see the lean muscles of his back even through his baby-pink t-shirt, and you watch the movement as he slides some finished pancakes onto a plate, stacking them high.

“Are you busy today?” he asks lightly as he pours more batter into the pan.

“Not terribly,” you say, pressing the coffee grounds down. “I mean, I should probably at least try to get some work done at some point, but there’s no rush. If you need me out of your hair, though, that’s fine.”

He flashes you a grin over his shoulder before turning back to his cooking. “No, please stay,” he says. “I don’t have anything that really needs doing. And I’d love the company.”

“Works for me,” you say, smiling back.

You chat a little as he finishes cooking, and fall into comfortable silence once he brings the food to the table and you start eating. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you take the first bite—the K-bbq from last night seems so far away.

“These are so good,” you tell him when you get your wits about you again. “You definitely downplayed your cooking skills.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says, grinning. “Family recipe. Big secret.” You laugh at him as he wiggles his eyebrows.

You insist on helping him wash up after you’re done eating, clearing the counter and putting things away. When you’re done, he beckons you over, sitting down on one of the stools, and patting the one next to him, where your blanket is still draped where you left it. You obey, a little confused.

“Hey, um,” he begins. “So we should probably talk about last night.” You give him a nervous look, and he waves it off quickly. “No, no, I just—um. We did a lot of things that I didn’t really—ask if they were okay before I did them. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood and—well. It was a little irresponsible of me, so I apologize. I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Johnny,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “If I didn’t like it, I would’ve told you so. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t okay with any of it.”

“I figured, I just wanted to check,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I mean I did—I did call you a slut, which is a word my mother would beat my ass for saying if she knew. And she’s probably right.”

“You’re such an interesting person,” you comment, amused, and he blinks at you, at a loss. “Okay, so for the record—yes, I did like that, so stop worrying. But it’s just so funny to me, that you can be so—well, like that in the bedroom, but still manage to be so like this otherwise.”

“I try my best to be responsible,” he says, laughing a little. “I know I can get intense.”

“Well,” you say, resting your elbow on the counter and your cheek on your palm, “I like intense.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you, mischief now lurking behind his eyes. “I think we should talk about it. I want to know what you’re down for. Because—there’re a lot of things I want to try with you.”

You grin. “Like what?”

“I mean, so obviously you like getting smacked around and choked,” he starts, ticking it off on his fingers. “You like it when I call you a slut, but you also like it when I call you ‘babygirl’, which is fun.” You just smile. “And you like calling me daddy.”

“Mm, yes,” you say, your smile growing. You lean forward a little, scooting your stool closer to his. “But we already knew all that.”

He gives you a warning glance. “I can be very strict,” he prefaces. “I like to get really rough. It’s a system; it’s almost like a game. We make rules, and then if you don’t follow them, there’s consequences.”

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?”

He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Well, spanking for attitude. Choking if you still don’t fall in line. Orgasm delay; I’ll tie you up if you touch yourself without my permission. Handcuff you if you touch me without permission.”

“What, like this?” You sneak your hands onto his thighs, gripping lightly, reveling in the feeling of his strong quads beneath your palms.

He’s lifting you up in an instant, hands on your waist. You gasp a little as your ass thuds against the counter. Once you’re settled, he takes your wrists and pins them behind your back. “Yeah, like that,” he hisses. You hum, struggling against his hold just to test it. You’re strong, but he’s stronger.

“Hm,” you say, nonchalant. “Guess you’ll have to punish me, then.”

Johnny gives you an almost exasperated look, and then sighs and lets you go, moving to shuck off his shirt. Curious, you don’t move, choosing to watch him instead. You’re surprised when he twists up the shirt and holds it out. “Okay,” he says. “Hands.” You smile a little and offer him your wrists. Luckily, there’s a lot of t-shirt, so it’s easy for him to double-knot it with plenty to spare. He tugs experimentally, then asks, “Does it feel okay?”

You nod, smile growing, leaning forward into his space. “Green,” you murmur.

“Good.” He gives you the kiss you’re looking for, but deepens it, coaxing you to lean back. You don’t have your hands to support you, but he catches you, big palm braced against your spine. You kiss back, hungry, keeping your bound hands in your lap even though all you want to do is reach out and touch. You’re still hurting from last night, and you have a feeling Johnny will do fine at roughing you up on his own without any antagonizing.

You’re right. A few moments later, he’s lowering you onto your back, and then he stands, pulling your hips forward so he can pull your panties down. His tongue presses to your clit, swiping back and forth and then circling around it before breaking away with a kiss. You reach for him weakly, hands flexing against the t-shirt, an almost involuntary response.

Johnny doesn’t miss it. He slaps your hands, and then points. “Above your head. Keep them there, or you don’t get to come.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, shivering at his tone. You do as you’re told; your arms hang off the other side of the counter just a bit, but you don’t mind. Johnny, much to your relief, goes back to eating you out, pushing a spit-slick finger into your pussy. You sigh, and focus on the monumental task of keeping your hips still.

Johnny adds a second finger, then a third, and then a fourth, barely coming up for breath, his tongue flicking over your clit, sending waves of arousal across your body. He curls his fingers up slightly, and you moan out loud, shaking when he does it again, and again, and again.

He finally gives your clit a break, standing and running his free hand down your side. Goosebumps follow his touch even though you’re still wearing your big t-shirt. He scrunches up the material and pushes it high to expose your chest. His hand comes up to your tits, and he rolls one of your nipples under his thumb, smiling when you gasp. “Feel good, babygirl?” he asks.

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “Would feel better if you’d fuck me.”

He releases your chest in favor of taking your jaw in his hand, squeezing against the bone just a little. “Is that how you talk to me?”

“Only if you let me,” you say. He tightens his grip, jostling you a little. “I mean,” you amend, “no.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, leaning in closer. “My little slut doesn’t ever talk like that to me, because she knows what happens if she does, isn’t that right? So that’s ‘no,’ what?”

“No, sir,” you correct, watching him wide-eyed.

“Good girl,” he says, releasing your jaw and standing back up. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy, licking them clean absently while he pulls his shorts down with the other hand. You find that you’re trembling, the ache in your pussy a pleasant reminder of last night, though it’s eclipsed by an overwhelming feeling of need when you realize it’s going to happen again.

Johnny fishes a small packet of lube and a condom out of the pocket of his shorts before casting them aside. You give him a scandalized look.

“Were you planning this?” you ask. Somehow, you can’t quite make your tone accusatory.

He just grins lazily. “I wouldn’t say planning,” he replies as he tears the condom open and rolls it on. “More just potentially anticipating. Hands, please. I’m going to redo them behind your back. I like to be prepared,” he continues. “You never know.”

“Indeed.” You offer up your wrists and he makes quick work of the knot, tugging you free and then helping you to your feet. He spins you around, fastening the twisted t-shirt back around your wrists where he has them pinned behind you. He’s fucking ridiculous, you think, staring down at the marble of the counter. The cartoon Robin Hood “spare coochie” meme pops into your head, and you stifle a laugh, feeling giddy. Spare marriage, sir? You make a mental note to send it to your best friend later—she’ll definitely clown you for it, but it’s kind of how you feel.

You feel Johnny’s hand on your waist, coaxing you to bend over, and the head of his cock against the entrance to your pussy. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, though it trails to a sigh when he pushes in.

It’s a little mind-numbing, though you’re of the opinion that good sex always should be. You rest your cheek on the cool marble, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your hips bump against the edge of the counter, but you can barely feel the pain, focused more on Johnny’s hands and Johnny’s cock, the way he fucks you open like he’s trying to take you apart.

“ God , you feel good,” he forces out, and you whine softly at the praise. “My little slut takes me so well.”

“Daddy,” you reply, a little slurred from your lightheadedness. You wonder vaguely if he’d be willing to fuck you elsewhere in his penthouse—maybe on the sofa, or the dining table, so that every time he has guests over, he’s forced to confront the memory of you, burning behind his eyes, your voice ringing in his ears. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be opposed. You have a feeling he’d find the idea of it just as hot as you do.

You don’t bring it up now, though; you wouldn’t, even if you could—which is beside the point anyway, because you’re too busy moaning at the way he feels inside you, cock dragging against the spot that makes your legs weak and your heart pound. Another thing you’re finding you love about Johnny is that he’s vocal—he groans softly with each thrust, whispering senseless praise every few strokes. It makes you sure he knows you’re here, and that it’s you that’s making him feel this way, that he’s not imagining someone else, or, probably worse, thinking of no one at all, not even you. You’re not against being objectified, but there’s a difference between feeling used and feeling useless. Johnny nails the former perfectly, and it’s enough to make you feel like you could sink all the way down the many, many stories beneath you, heavy with desire.

“I’m close, daddy,” you find yourself whimpering, and you don’t even really know how you got there. It’s the everything about it, you suppose—the way he holds your wrists behind you, securing you in place, the way he’s fucking you hard enough to leave bruises, the way he so clearly wants you, the way this is all happening in the middle of his insanely expensive and uncommonly gorgeous kitchen. “Touch me, please.”

Johnny does, letting go of your waist to snake his hand around front and massage over your clit with his index and middle fingers. “I’m close, too,” he tells you, breath hot on your back. “I dreamed about you last night, baby. Wanted you even in my sleep. What am I supposed to do with that, huh?”

“I think you—ah, fuck—I think you handled it just fine,” you reply through sharp inhales. You feel choked on your moans, even though there’s nothing blocking your airflow. In the back of your head, you wish there was, but it’s a bit too late for that now. “Lucky for you, I’m always on board.”

“Mm, good,” Johnny replies, voice low and strained. “We can make this a habit, if you want.”

You get an image of you, coming over to his place every week or so, only for him to fuck you into his mattress that night and then do it again in the morning. You shake, panting as you reply. “I’d like that,” you say, and he hums.

Your orgasm is fast approaching—your limbs feel like live wires, and the pressure in your pussy is building. You clench around Johnny’s cock without meaning to, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He settles for grinding against you, pressed so deep inside you wonder if you’ll be feeling it for the next month. His fingers are still circling your clit, fast and sweet, sparks of pleasure bursting across your skin with each movement.

You come with a cry, breath fogging the counter below your mouth. You hear Johnny moaning behind you as he fucks you shallowly through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he comes as well, hand never leaving your clit until you’re so overstimulated you have to push him away.

You both catch your breath for a second after he pulls out, and then you stand up gingerly, stretching your back as best you can. Johnny’s fingers find the t-shirt on your wrists, a little clumsy now in his post-orgasm haze. But nevertheless, you’re soon released, and you turn around so you can kiss him.

He smiles into the kiss, and then you’re both laughing, barefoot and (mostly) naked in his kitchen at eleven o’clock in the morning. It’s not the wildest thing you’ve ever done, even as a real adult, but there’s definitely something to be said for fucking twice in the span of less than twelve hours.

“You’re so much fun,” he says as his laughter subsides, grinning at you. “Finally, someone that matches my energy.”

“I think that’s just a nice way of saying, ‘why do you have the sex drive of a fifteen year old boy?’ but I’ll take it,” you reply, scooping your underwear up from the floor. “Good thing we cleaned up beforehand.”

“Yeah, I think… we may have broken something otherwise,” he agrees. “Okay.” He rolls the condom off and ties it before chucking it in the trash. “I have a few things to get done, but I can offer you a robe and a pair of shorts if you want them, and you can hang out by the pool while I finish up. Feel free to take a glass or two of wine, if you like. Or a bottle or two, I don’t mind. I’ll join you in an hour or so.”

“I don’t need the shorts,” you say, going over to the wine cooler and plucking up the least-expensive looking red you see. “Can I take this?” He nods, and you cradle it to your chest, following him out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. “If it’s alright with you. I’ll just skinny-dip. The robe would be nice, though.”

“You’re lucky we’re the tallest building in the area,” Johnny says. “I doubt anyone will see you, in any case.”

You shrug. “It’s not like they’d be able to make out my face anyway. I’ll be fine.”

He leads you into his bedroom, and disappears into his closet. You discard the t-shirt on his bed, and place your folded underwear on top of the stack of the rest of your clothes on the bookshelf.

“Here.” Johnny’s extending a fluffy black robe to you. “It’s a little cold out there, so I thought I’d go for function over style.”

“Thanks,” you say, giggling, and let him help you into it. You fasten the sash around your waist, following him out to the balcony.

“You can rinse off there,” he says, pointing at a shower stall in the back corner by the hot tub that you didn’t see the night before. “Hot tub controls are on the wall. There’s some wine glasses and a bottle opener in this cabinet here.” He opens one of the doors, and produces a silver wine opener. “I’ll be in my office, okay?”

“Okay.” You smile at him, accepting the wine opener. “Thank you.”

“No need.” He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, and then heads back inside.

You head over to the lounge chairs that are on the side of the pool protected by the weather shelter, next to the outer wall. You put the bottle of wine on the ground, taking off your robe and draping it over a chair, and then take the bottle and the bottle opener to the hot tub. You put them on the side, and start the heat and jets in the tub, then hop into the shower really quick to rinse off the layer of sweat before making your swift way to the hot tub, shivering against the slight wind.

You sigh in appreciation as you sink under the warm water, reaching up to open your wine. You didn’t bother with a glass—you know you’re probably going to drink the whole thing, anyway. You sit like that, water just barely up to your chest, sipping the wine and surveying the city with half-lidded eyes.

Really, you don’t know how you got so lucky. Maybe I should half-stalk more hot guys for fun, you think to yourself, smiling. You never know. The next one could be the son of an oil tycoon, or a prince. If you can’t eat the rich, then… at least fuck them, right? And steal their wine.

By the time Johnny comes out onto the balcony, you’re about three-quarters of the way through the bottle of wine. Though the pancakes from this morning did something to buffer the effects of the alcohol at first, you definitely have a solid buzz going, and you giggle through your greeting smile when Johnny comes into view.

“Do you want some?” you ask, offering up the bottle. “Before I finish it?”

He grins, shaking his head. “No, I think I’ll need to drive you home, so I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Mmkay.” You tilt your head back, taking him in. He’s changed into a pair of swim shorts and nothing else, and though it’s not very sunny, he has sunglasses perched on the top of his head, blonde hair pushed back and falling over the frames. “Well, at least join me.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” He slips into the water beside you, moving close to kiss your cheekbone, the corner of your lips, your jaw.

“Work go okay?” you ask.

“Mm-hmm,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hair tickles your ear, and you laugh. “I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, bringing your opposite hand around to cup his cheek. “Have anything in mind?”

“Well,” Johnny says, kissing your palm and peeling away to lean back against the tub. “I was thinking lunch would be in order sometime soon. Maybe we could nap, if you want. And then I’d drive you home before dinner. I don’t want to keep you too long; I know you have shit to do.”

It’s unfortunate, but he’s right. As much as you want to stay longer, you know you have to sober up and get home to finish at least part of your project. Besides, you don’t want to overstay your welcome. “Yeah,” you say. “I do have shit to do.”

“Make no mistake,” he adds quickly. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. I just don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Well, thank you.” You take another swig of wine, rolling the liquid around in your mouth. “I appreciate it.”

“So,” he continues. “We soak here for a little while longer, and then we eat and take a siesta, how’s that sound?”

“You’re a dork,” you inform him, but you nod. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

You sit together for a few minutes as you finish your bottle of wine, chatting and laughing.

“So,” you say when your wine bottle is empty. “Do you let all the pretty girls use your hot tub and drink your alcohol?”

Johnny laughs. “No,” he says, giving you his blinding smile. “Only the ones that surveil me for months at the gym.”

You swat him, but play along. “Ah, so I’m the first?” you ask. “Surely no one else is as crazy.”

“You never know,” he replies, still grinning. “You’d be surprised.”

“You have another stalker?” you ask, feigning shock and offense.

“You’re not a stalker,” he points out. “And no. You’re just not the first person to approach me at the gym.”

“I did no approaching. That was like, the main problem,” you say, and he laughs again.

“This is all to say, yes, I have had other girls over before, but not recently, and they usually left in the morning.” He spreads his hands. “So consider yourself special.”

“It’s considered.” He snorts and shoves you lightly, and you shove him back. He grabs your arm to stop you from doing it again, and somehow you end up nose to nose, wrestling in the water. You jut your chin forward so you can kiss him, but even kissing, you’re still grappling with each other. You break apart to giggle. Johnny’s sunglasses are askew on his head.

“All right,” he says once your mini fight has died down. He pushes himself out of the tub, getting to his feet. You watch, unabashed, as beads of water trickle down his perfect torso. “Let’s go see about some lunch.”

He offers you a hand, scooping up the empty wine bottle with the other, and you stand, now oddly self-conscious. It’s certainly not like he hasn’t seen you naked before—and quite recently, too—but still, you duck your head and hope Johnny isn’t looking too close.

The problem is, you’re a little drunk, and focusing super hard on how you look means you’re not focused on walking. You manage to trip over your own feet, and if Johnny wasn’t there to catch you, you’d probably have gone sprawling out across the concrete. Though the danger of you falling has passed, neither of you loosen your grip on the other’s arm.

“Sorry,” you say, hushed.

“Can’t blame you,” Johnny replies. “You’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”

You shrug one shoulder, giving him a coy look. “Maybe more than a little.”

He shakes his head and guides you backwards into a lounge chair. “D’you think lunch could wait just a few minutes?” He doesn’t really wait for an answer, though; he’s already covered your body with his, lips on your neck.

“What, was my clumsiness so enticing?” you ask, grinning. “You like it when girls trip themselves and almost fall to their deaths?”

“No, I like seeing you naked in my hot tub, drunk off my wine, swaying on my balcony,” he says, and that shuts you right up. “You know what I thought when I first walked out here and saw you? Giggling, beautiful tits—“ he squeezes one in his hand as if to punctuate his point, and you gasp. “—just barely visible, eyes not quite focused?”

“No, what?” you say, barely hearing your own words.

He looks up. “God, she’s beautiful,” he says, and smirks when you roll your eyes at him. “I thought we talked about rolling your eyes.”

“Okay, Christian Grey,” you say, and he smacks your thigh.

“I’m serious, any more attitude and I’ll be beating your ass black and blue, not eating you out.” His eyes are still dancing with laughter but his tone is firm. You quiet down, nodding. “That’s better.” He scoots down the lounge chair, spreading your legs and throwing one of them over his shoulder. By the time you’ve processed this change in position, he has his mouth on you. He sucks lightly on your clit, teeth barely grazing it, and you shudder involuntarily.

You watch the muscles in his back ripple as he bends deeper, and almost reach out to touch, but remember the rules. “Can I touch you, sir?” you ask, making your voice meek and small.

“Yes, baby,” he pulls away briefly to murmur.

You run a hand down his back, tracing lines up and down his spine, plucking his sunglasses off the crown of his head so they don’t get in the way, and holding his hair out of his eyes with your other hand. He hums his thanks around your clit, and the vibration makes you moan.

You’re a horny drunk as it is—an affliction that gets the better of you all the time—but something about the way Johnny was talking about it, how he liked that you were at his place, unsteady in your drunk-ness, how that turned him on... it just makes it worse. You’re so wet and so needy, and he’s barely done anything to you. Maybe it’s that he feels safe, even like this, or maybe it’s just that you like to be incapacitated and completely at the mercy of your partner, but all of it is making your head spin. Or maybe it’s just the pleasure mixing with the alcohol.

You’re glad he has a strong hand braced against your thigh, otherwise you’d be at risk of crushing his skull between your legs. Or maybe you’re just at risk of melting into a puddle of desire right here and now. Your limbs feel heavy, and all you can do is moan, Johnny’s tongue quickly pushing you close to the edge.

You can’t even warn him before you come, shaking your way through it, curled forward and praying you’re not suffocating him. He presses kisses to your clit, your pussy, movements almost lazy while you slowly come down from it, gasping in breaths.

As soon as you can speak again, you push him to his feet. “Okay, now you,” you demand.

He smiles, stepping around your legs. “Put your feet up on the chair and tilt your head back.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, keeping eye contact. You cross one ankle over the other, dropping your head back onto the headrest, and stretching your mouth open. You stick your tongue out and raise your eyebrows a little at him.

“What a good girl.” He presses his thumb into your mouth; you let him bully a few fingers against the back of your throat. “You’re so—pliant, I think is the word I’m looking for. You always get like this when you drink?”

“Not always,” you answer around his fingers. “Depends on who I’m with. With you, probably yes.”

Satisfaction settles across his face. “Maybe we can test that out sometime,” he says, nonchalant, withdrawing his fingers. “Okay, want my cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply.

He tugs down his shorts, just low enough that you have access, and shuffles forward a few more steps until the head is ghosting against the tip of your tongue. You hold very still, though all you want to do is stretch your tongue out and lick the precome beading at the tip. Gradually, he pushes his cock into your mouth until it’s all you can do not to gag. You hollow your cheeks as best you can, breathing harshly through your nose.

Johnny strokes your jaw with his thumb. “Good girl,” he repeats. “Gonna let me use your poor throat? Gonna let me fuck your face til I come?” You nod, trying to make little mm-hm noises around his cock. He gets the message. “Thank you, baby,” he all but coos, one hand going to grip your hair, tight and close to your scalp. You try to open your jaw a little wider. A tear leaks out of the corner of your eye, followed by another, and another, as Johnny pulls out fluidly and then shoves his cock right back down your throat.

You can’t help it after a minute or two—you’re gagging and your spit is thick and glistening on his cock when he slides it out of your mouth. It’s okay, though; you’re not really at risk of throwing up, You are still crying, though, more just a natural reaction from your body getting abused than anything else. Johnny doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t acknowledge it. He yanks your head forward and you let your torso loll over the seat, closing your eyes.

“God,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “I tell you you’re good, and you’ll just let me do anything, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you say, too drunk and too preoccupied to argue.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, and you moan around his cock. You feel like you’re floating in honey; though Johnny’s thrusts are sharp and fast, they feel slow, the wine numbing you to any pain. You know you’re messy—spit is dripping down your chin and mixing with your tears—but you can’t be bothered with it. Besides, Johnny thinks it’s hot, and that’s all that really matters.

Abruptly, he pulls out, leaving you heaving for breath. He keeps the one hand on your hair, so your face is tilted up towards him. He jacks himself off, groaning when he finally comes. You squeeze your eyes tight—come stings if you get it in your eyes, you know—and moan quietly when you feel it hit your brow bone, your cheek, your tongue.

Johnny cleans you off a bit with his fingers and you swipe at your face a little before looking up at him. He’s tucked himself back into his pants, and he’s flushed but smiling.

“Okay,” he says, breathless. “Now lunch.”

You laugh, taking his hand and getting to your feet. You sway, but it’s okay, because Johnny catches you.

* * *

After lunch, you both shower and curl up in Johnny’s bed for a much-needed nap. You fall asleep tucked closed to his chest and your nose full of the scent of his cologne.

You wake late to a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey.” You blink your eyes open and see Johnny sitting up beside you. “I’m not trying to kick you out, please take your time. I just figured you’d wanna be getting home.”

You squint at the clock; it’s a little before three. “Yeah,” you whisper back. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiles and stands, going to raise the blinds. You follow him, grabbing your clothes and pulling them on, adjusting your dress as the shades click in place at the top of the windows.

“Got everything?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” you reply, retrieving your phone from the bedside table. You’re still a little unsteady, but sobering by the minute, so you’re pretty sure you’re telling the truth.

“Well,” he says as he follows you down the stairs. “If you do happen to leave something behind, you have my number.”

“Yes.” You smile at him as you shrug your coat on, checking your pockets for your wallet and your keys.

You both pull on your shoes and head out into the hall, then back into the fancy elevator. You’re silent as you ride all the way down to the garage.

Johnny opens the passenger side door for you and shuts it once you’re settled. There’s almost a melancholy stillness in the car—the air seems a little tense. You watch your hands in your lap, not sure how to broach the subject. Will we see each other again?

Once you get into the city, you direct Johnny towards your building. It might not be wise to give him your address, but then again, he hasn’t done anything to give you pause, so you decide not to worry about it.

A few missed turns later, he pulls up along the curb, and turns his car off. There’s a beat of silence as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say softly. He nods. You open your door and stick your right leg out, and then turn back to him. “Will I see you again?”

“If you want,” Johnny says with a wide smile. He leans toward you and you take the opportunity to give him a goodbye kiss. “Text me anytime, baby,” he murmurs when you pull away, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Will do.” You get out of the car and shut the door, then bend down so you can wave goodbye through the window.

Johnny waves back, putting his car in drive. Right before he pulls away, he makes eye contact with you and gives you that same fucking wink.

You’re still laughing when you get into the lobby.

[seoflower]

Help

I really need to find this Johnny fic, please help me.

The plot is basically a girl (y/n - reader) likes a guy and Johnny suggests to fake date to make the guy interest in her. So like the cliche that it is they start date and develop feelings for eachother.

Is a long fic and thats is what I remember

I don't know how long, if has smut (probably yes) but I do konw that has a happy ending. Oh he probably is a frat boy too