gwen

…

Johnny wasn’t an easy man to love but fuck did he know how to make you want him.

The way he carried himself—deliberate, confident, like he was always five steps ahead of everyone else—made him impossible to ignore. He had this charm, the kind that made you lean in closer when he spoke, the kind that made you forget the way his eyes lingered too long on people when he thought no one was watching.

And with you? He was different.

He was soft.

He’d sneak up behind you, hands sliding slow over your waist, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “Damn, you smell good.” He’d press his forehead against yours when he was tired, exhaling slow, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d call you things no one ever had before—sweetheart, baby, mine—like the words belonged to you alone.

So when the small details were starting to show you were observant.

Johnny had a knack for deflecting questions about his past, often dodging your questions. Whenever you pressed him about where he grew up or what he had done before you met, he would flash that charming grin and casually change the subject, as if it was no big deal. One moment, he mentioned his mother but there were two?

Your questions were left with more.

_______________________________________________

One afternoon, as you sat together on the couch, the flickering light from the television illuminated the room in a soft glow. Curiosity nagged at you, and you found yourself wanting to know more about Johnny’s past. You had always sensed there was more to him than the charming persona he presented. With a gentle nudge, you asked, “What was your childhood like? Did you have a good relationship with your family?”

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air. His expression darkened, and the playful glint in his eyes was replaced by a cold stare. “Why do ya wan’ ta’ know about that so much?” he snapped, his southern accent drawling harsher and sharper, making you flinch. You hadn’t meant to touch a nerve; it was just a question, after all.

Johnny leaned forward, the tension radiating from his face. “Chu’ think ya’ can just dig into my past like it’s some kind a game? It’s not pretty, okay? Just drop it.” His tone was laced with aggression, the way he clenched his jaw and fists showing his frustration.

You could feel the heat of his anger washing over you, a wave of intimidation that made your stomach twist. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said softly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Upset me?” he echoed, his voice rising. “You have no idea what it’s like ta’ be me! You think you’re entitled to know every lil’ thing? I’m not some open book for ya’ to read.”

As he spoke, you noticed the way his body was coiled with tension, his energy shifting from defensive to aggressive in a heartbeat. It was a stark reminder of the very things you’d been trying to ignore—the moments when his charming demeanor could so easily turn into something completely different.

Realizing you had ventured too far into territory he wasn’t ready to share, you held up your hands in a gesture of peace, feeling the urge to retreat from the sudden confrontation. “I just wanted to understand you better,” you said softly, wishing to calm the storm that had erupted between you.

But Johnny remained unyielding, the anger in his eyes dimming slightly, yet still lingering like a dark cloud overhead. “Well, maybe some things are better left in the past. You should respect that.” His voice softened, but the warning in it was unmistakable. The tension lingered, leaving you wondering just how deep his scars ran and how much of his past he was truly willing to share—or hide. To relive the tension in the air you look back at the TV, seeing missing people on the news, and you let you a sigh, “All these missing people are making me feel sick…” He let out a chuckle grabbing his beer on the near by coffee table, “People die everyday, babe. That’s just how it goes.”

_______________________________________________

The inconsistencies in his timelines nagged at you, but you had wrapped it up to the conclusion that he didn’t like his childhood…

Hell, maybe that’s why he’s always had a knife on him, its cold metal glinting ominously whenever he moved in the light. At first, you thought it was just a quirky habit, something that made him seem rugged and stoic.

“What, are you expecting someone to attack us in our own kitchen in the middle of the day?” You asked. He would often joke about it, saying, “Chu’ never know when trouble might come knockin’.” But as time went on, the constant presence of the knife began to unsettle you. It was tucked into his belt when he went out, resting on the kitchen counter when he cooked, and even slid under his pillow at night sometimes. The way he handled it sent shivers down your spine.

But the biggest problem you had with Johnny is that he would disappear some nights, returning hours later, smelling faintly of something metallic… oil?

Once, you saw dirt caked under his nails, trailing up his forearms. You asked him where he’d been. “Just out,” he said, flashing that lazy grin. “Got into a little trouble at work, is all.” The smell of perfume filled the air but an scent of unfamiliar cologne joined the air too that was definitely not his— could be all the people he was around at his job.

So you let it go.

One night, you woke up to find him sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at you. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, his jaw tight, his hands flexing against his knees. You blinked, your voice thick with sleep. “Johnny?” His lips twitched into a smirk, but something in his eyes was unreadable.

“Just watchin’ ya dream, baby,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers along your cheek. A chill skated down your spine. But you smiled anyway. Regardless of what you felt, you knew he meant good… but deep down, you already knew something wasn’t right.

The next night you learned the truth, the air is thick with the scent of rain, heavy and humid, clinging to your skin as you lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. The house is silent except for the occasional groan of wood settling, the distant sound of wind pressing against the windows. Johnny was gone and it was late— a little too late.

But that, in itself, isn’t unusual. It doesn’t shock you when he decides to stay at the mechanic shop in town late at night trying to fix the dozens of vehicles in line to get fixed. But tonight, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the wood creaked through the cracks in the house, or maybe it’s the strange heaviness in your chest, a weight that has been pressing against you for months now, slowly growing stronger, harder to ignore.

Was he cheating? No, he couldn’t be…

You sit up, rubbing your arms as if to shake off the unease curling around your spine, but the feeling doesn’t go away.

You don’t want to be the kind of person who snoops, don’t want to be the kind of person who questions Johnny when he’s never given you a reason to doubt him—not really—but the thought plants itself in your mind, firm and unrelenting. You hesitate for only a moment before slipping out of bed, stepping carefully across the creaky wooden floorboards.

Maybe getting a little bit of air outside would help.

The house is dark as you make your way to the back door, barely illuminated by the dim glow of the moon filtering through the windows. The smell of the soup you had saved for Johnny you made for dinner lingering in the kitchen drifts past you, making you sigh. Outside, the yard stretches out into endless black, the distant tree line swaying in the wind, casting long, skeletal shadows across the damp grass.

And that’s when you see it—Johnny’s truck, parked farther away than usual, close to the old shed at the edge of y’all’s property, the driver’s side door hanging slightly open.

Johnny never parks his truck like that. Never far away and open…

Your heartbeat picks up as you step onto the porch, the cold texan air nipped at your face. The wooden planks cold beneath your bare feet. You hesitate, half tempted to turn back, to crawl under the blankets and pretend you never got up in the first place. But your feet keep moving down the steps, down the path of your garden, slow and hesitant, carrying you across the yard and across the property. The damp grass soaking through the thin fabric your pajamas was unpleasant but you weren’t stopping over some wet cloth.

Walking down the long path of the dirt road, all the way to the edge of the property to the old shed, you couldn’t help but tell yourself that maybe this was a bad idea. You could still go back inside to the warm soup you had prepared, rid yourself of cold needles poking your bare feet and cuddle with your blankets but… when you did reach the truck, you see it immediately—a large, worn duffel bag slung across the passenger seat, the zipper barely closed, something dark spilling out over the edge.

Your breath catches, fingers twitching at your sides as you stare at it, mind racing with possibilities you don’t want to entertain.

But you have to look.

With trembling hands, you reach out and pull the zipper down, just enough to push aside the fabric.

The first thing you see is a small delicate locket, could it be a gift he was going to give you? It was the kind a woman would wear, its chain snapped as if it had been ripped from someone’s neck. Opening up the locket, you don’t see you… you see a random women, blonde and happy.

Was he actually cheating?

Turning the locket around, the surface is smeared with something dark, something rust-colored, something that your mind refuses to name. You swallow hard, your pulse hammering against your ribs, and dig a little deeper.

“No…” You whispered.

A scarf, torn at the edges. A sliver bracelet, more fit for a man, the kind that wouldn’t fit around your wrist but definitely not Johnnys style.

IDs. A small, zippered pouch filled with driver’s licenses, seven in total. Different names. Different faces. Four of them, men. Three of them, women. You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest tightening, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs.

And then something slipped from inside the pouch—a polaroid.

The breath left your lungs.

It was a man and woman tied up, their faces tear stained and unmoving. Their eyes stared into oblivion, their souls gave up. If that wasn’t worse, a visible wound was peaking at the camera spilling out of the man’s side.

Your hands begin to shake.

The realization comes slow, creeping in at the edges of your mind, twisting into something suffocating. You stare down at the collection of trinkets, at the evidence of people, at the undeniable proof of something that cannot be explained away.

Johnny wasn’t cheating.

He was hurting people.

Your stomach lurches violently as you try and properly shove everything back into the bag as quick as possible, and you stumble back from the truck, hands trembling, breath coming too fast, too shallow. You try to tell yourself there’s another explanation, that this isn’t what it looks like, that there’s some kind of reasonable, logical reason for why Johnny would have these things—but you already know there isn’t.

Because deep down, you always knew something was wrong.

And now you have proof.

Before you can think about what to do next, the air shifts behind you, and you feel it before you hear it—the presence of someone watching.

Footsteps crunch against the wet grass, slow and deliberate, and every muscle in your body locks up as a shadow stretches over you, long and familiar, swallowing you whole.

You don’t want to turn around, don’t want to confirm what you already know, but your body moves on instinct, reacting before your mind can catch up. You step towards the truck again, grabbing the near by beer bottles on scattered on the truck floor. One, two, three bottles. You turn and there he is.

Oh my god… was he watching the whole time?

Johnny stands a few feet away, his boots caked with mud, his damp shirt clinging to his skin, darkened in places you don’t want to look too closely at. His dark brown hair is messy, strands sticking to his forehead, but his expression is what sends a chill down your spine. He isn’t angry. He isn’t shocked. If anything, he looks amused.

Like he was waiting for this moment.

Like he knew you’d find out eventually.

His head tilts slightly, lips curling into a slow, easy smirk as he watches you, his sharp eyes flicking from your face to the open duffel bag, then back to you. His hands are relaxed at his sides, fingers flexing slightly, and something about the movement makes your stomach twist in knots.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until he takes a slow step forward, and your body reacts on instinct, feet stumbling backward, hands curling into fists around one of the bottle.

Johnny’s smirk widens slightly as he closes the distance between you, his voice low, smooth, the drawl as thick as honey.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

The words are casual, almost teasing, as if this is just another late-night conversation, as if he doesn’t already know exactly what you saw.

You try to speak, but your throat is too tight, your mind racing through a thousand different responses, a thousand different ways to react, but none of them feel right.

You look at the beer bottles in your hand.

Because what the hell are you supposed to say to the man you love when you realize he’s a monster?

Johnny watches you for a long moment, and then he does something that makes your blood run cold— He laughs. When he looks at you again, there’s something almost fond in his expression, something that makes your stomach twist into an even tighter knot.

“You really shouldn’t be out here this late,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice taking on that familiar, lazy warmth, the kind that usually makes you melt. “It’s too cold out here, you’re shakin’.” His hand sits on his hip, on his knife… with his head tilting in curiosity.

You don’t move. Can’t move. Because you can’t stop yourself from thinking of every possibly— if you run, he might chase you. If you fight, he’ll win. And if you scream, no one will hear you. So you do the only thing you can.

You raise your bottle handling wrist in the air and force yourself to breathe. You force your body to relax, even as your heart slams against your ribs, even as every instinct tells you to run. You lift your chin, swallowing hard, meeting Johnny’s gaze with as much steadiness as you can manage.

You smile, “No Johnny, I was looking for you and figured I’d help clean your truck.”

Barely there, barely audible, but just enough to make his smirk soften, just enough to make his hazel gleam with something like approval.

Just enough to keep yourself innocent in his eyes.

The drive back down the gravel weaving path you two had spent weeks making to the house is quiet. Johnny hums softly under his breath, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, the other draped over his knee, fingers tapping against the denim of his jeans. His posture is relaxed, completely at ease, like nothing is wrong. Like you didn’t just find proof of something horrible.

The truck bumps along the uneven dirt road, the tires crunching against gravel, but the only sound in the truck is the low crackle of the radio, playing some country song you can’t focus on. Your hands are clenched together in your lap, knuckles white, nails digging into your skin, trying to anchor yourself to something like there wasn’t a spiral of thoughts screaming inside your head. It didn’t help much when the duffel bag is touching your feet on the truck floor.

You should say something. You should confront him but you don’t. You can’t bring yourself to it. What would that change?

You glance at Johnny from the corner of your eye, at the way the dim glow of the dashboard casts shadows across his sharp features. His dark brown hair falls messily over his forehead, his lips still curled at the edges in that easy, knowing smirk, like he’s waiting for you to break the silence first. Like he’s curious about what you’ll do next.

Grease stains decorated his worn out jeans— could it really be grease? The scar on his face, he might be lying to you about how he got that, too. Your stomach twists painfully thinking about it, you lean away for a moment trying not to lose yourself in your head.

Johnny isn’t stupid, no matter how much he plays up the carefree charm. He’s watching you, even if he doesn’t make it obvious, gauging your reaction, measuring every little shift in your expression, every nervous flicker of your fingers.

And you don’t know what he’ll do if you give him the wrong reaction. So you keep your mouth shut because you don’t know what happens if you don’t.

The truck goes around to the front of the house, rolls to a stop, and for a long moment… neither of you move.

You feel his gaze on you, sharp and heavy, waiting for something. Instead, you swallow hard, forcing your voice, “Well? Let’s get inside.” You open the door as swiftly and calmly as you could and step out with a slight pep in your fake step. You lightly hum as you listened to his turn off the truck and do the same.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Johnny lays beside you, one arm slung over your waist, his body radiating warmth. His breathing was slow, steady—completely at ease. Like he hadn’t maybe spent this night taking someone’s life. Like he hadn’t kissed and held your face with blood still under his nails.

Your mind messed with itself, rethinking every moment you two shared, every laugh, every touch. Could someone like him really be capable of this?

Yes.

But then—

He loves you.

Then the next few weeks were torturous.

You played your part well. Smiling when Johnny expected it, keeping your voice light, pretending that everything was the same. But it wasn’t.

How could it be?

Every touch made your skin crawl. Every whisper of sweetheart or mine felt like a chain tightening around your throat now. You knew too much. But the worst part wasn’t just knowing— it was not knowing what to do.

For two years, Johnny had been everything to you. He made you laugh with his charming antics. You remembered the way he used to tuck you into his side after a long day, ignoring the label of him being ‘just a friend’ hiding in his farm house back at his home. His warmth seeping into your skin, his hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. You remembered his voice, that teasing, cocky lilt that could make your heart race in a way you once found exciting.

Could someone like Johnny really love? Had it all been a lie? The thought made you sick. But then there were moments—small ones—that made you wonder.

“You’ve been different lately,” he murmured, his voice slow and measured.

Your pulse stuttered. “What do you mean?” You put down the knife, swiping the cut strawberries into a bowl and turn around… only to see he’s already standing behind you.

He hummed, dragging his fingertips to your wrist. His grip tightened just slightly. “Quieter. Distracted.” His hazel eyes searched yours, narrowing as his hand gripped your wrist in a tight squeeze. “Is there somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?”

Your breath caught.

Did he know?

You forced a laugh, leaning up to kiss him, swallowing your fear between your lips.

“No,” you whispered and peck his lips, but his body didn’t budge. His hand let go of your wrist as you turned around hoping he’d give you any sign that he’s let it go. His head rests on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist, “M’kay.” Is all he said before kissing the back of your head and leaving the room. For now, he seemed to believe you.

But things did change after that.

Johnny watched you more closely. His touches lingered too long, his words held unspoken weight. One evening, he brushed your hair back, tilting your chin up. His grip was just a little too firm, his fingers warm against your skin. “You ain’t ever leavin’ right, darlin’?” He asked under his breath.

And you knew, then, that you could never leave. Johnny wasn’t just dangerous, he was watching too.

You stood at the sink that night, gripping the edges so tightly my knuckles turned white. Just a few moments ago you were leaning into his touch promising that you weren’t going to leave him and now you’re rethinking your life choices.

You still could walk away. You could turn him in. But the thought of it—the thought of Johnny knowing, of him coming for you in the dark—chilled you to the bone. More than that, the thought of losing him did something worse.

Just months before your third year anniversary it became more obvious to Johnny that you knew everything, and he was never going to bring it up and neither were you.

It was a silent game, one where the rules were unwritten but deeply understood. You carried on like nothing had changed, like the world hadn’t shifted under your feet the moment you unzipped that duffel bag. You laughed when Johnny cracked a joke, kissed him when he pulled you in, played the part of the woman who loved him.

Because, in a way, you still did.

How could you not, after all these years? After all the whispered affections, the late-night drives with his hand resting warm on your thigh, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered?

So you ignored it. Blissfully. Desperately.

And Johnny?

Johnny accepted it with quiet amusement, as if this was the outcome he had expected all along.

There was something almost fond in the way he looked at you now, like he was proud—pleased that you had seen the truth and stayed anyway. He had no reason to coax you into compliance, no reason to explain himself or offer any sort of justification. You hadn’t run and that told him everything he needed to know.

So he didn’t press. Didn’t ask. Didn’t so much as mention what had happened that night by the truck.

Instead, he kissed your temple when he came home late, murmured a soft, “Missed you, sweetheart.” He held you tighter when you stirred in your sleep, warm and possessive, like you were something worth keeping safe.

Despite everything— despite the horror, despite the blood on his hands—part of you still loved him.

And that part? It was winning.

He pulled you into his lap, his hands warm and steady on your waist, Johnny tilted his head, studying you with something close to admiration.

“You’re real good at pretendin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing your temple.

You explain your memory on the situation, looking out your window. Your garden is covered in droplets and mildew, but your parents never let some rain pour bother their vacation plans but wouldn’t have left in the first place if they knew how bad it really was last night, however. Raindrops gently tap against the glass and you finally look at Johnny for his reaction.

“Wow, darlin’, he really said of that? Sheesh,” Johnny let out a chuckle, it clears the silence.

You sit on your bed. Your fingers fidget with your blanket. Johnny sat in your desk chair, his feet planted on your dest, an apple in hand. The sun captures a particular twinkle on his body…

… Was there always a knife attached to his hip?

“J-Johnny, I don’t know.” You clearly weren’t fancying his answer, not sure how to feel.

“What chu’ mean?”

“I mean— Leland said you threaten him.”

“It’s true,” He quickly comments, “But! He threatened me first, bet chu’ he didn’t tell ya that.” He got up to lean against your desk now, his eyes not leaving your figure.

The room seemed to have gotten smaller. The only background noise was the slow drip of the raindrops.

“Johnny,” you break the silent cautiously, “What’s up about the rumors— the disappearances?”

His gaze held yours, lingering. “Leland’s got it all wrong. My family— they’re just older folk and my siblings tend to show their crazier side. And those women he talks about? He’s lyin’, he’s jealous.” He plead quietly.

Yet, you remembered yesterday night— Johnny vanished. You two were stuck in his truck in the middle of the rough thunderstorm the night before. The truck held a type of tension that could cut through the air. You had gotten… too close. After that, he took you home. You both had seemingly decided to not mention it today…

“But Leland said he thinks that you’re dangerous,” you said, your voice harshened. “He thinks you’re hiding something.” Trying to get him to even fathom what you were trying to say.

Johnny puts his apple down on your desk and slowly looks up at you again. He now comes forward and walks up front of you, his boots stomping on the floor softly, “And what do you think, darlin’? Ya think any of that’s true?” His demeanor switched. You pause and look around the room, for any sign of it being ‘anything’, because in this moment you weren’t sure of anything.

He tilts his head looking down at your stiff figure, “Come on, I’m your best friend, ya know I’m telling the truth…”

Your face twisted into concern… You couldn’t tell who was right and who was wrong. The room felt suffocating, like the world was on pause unless you say something.

His hands lay alone on the bed, trapping you and his head leaned closer to your face, trying to make you look at him. “Just believe me, (Y/N).” His voice held venom to it, but you couldn’t help but notice how hard he was gripping your shoulders.

This wasn’t just Leland anymore, if the whole town has talked about it like Leland said— then was it true?

The room held its breath, waiting for your answer.

“Johnny.” You whispered, your voice swaying against the closed space between you and him, “If we’re best friend— like you say we are— then why am I just finding out about these rumors now? You’d think it would be very important for me to know all of this.” You turn away, shifting your position sitting onto the other side of the bed, facing away.

He walked up around the bed frame and bent down to his knees looking up at you this time now, silently pleaing for understanding through his eyes. “Darlin’, ya know me. Ya know my family. We’re not what they say. Those women were just mad I regretted them—”

“But the disappearances,” you interrupted. “The rumors. They can’t all be lies...“ Your eyes tighten in confusion and anger.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw vulnerability in his eyes. “That Leland guy?— or whatever— he’s twisted it all wrong. He’s jealous, he’s bitchin’ for a reason. He wants us to stop talking to each other.” He grabs your shoulders and shakes you slightly.

“And you?” The question hung between you, heavy as the dry Texas air. “What are you hiding then, Johnny?”

“(Y/N), we’ve been friends for how long?… I have done things, things I can’t undo. But I’d never hurt ya.”

Leaning away from him again he hesitated to release your shoulders and your figure holds yourself up on your elbows on your bed. Though your eyes notice the knife again, you couldn’t help but keep ushering him to tell a truth. “How can I trust you? Hell, you’ve never even told me about how you have that damn scar on your face…”

“Because i knew ya poor heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He says turning around looking at the wall, “Ya know i’d protect you. This scar on my face? That is a long story that i’m not even wantin’ to talk about, okay?” It felt as if he couldn’t even bare to look at you, you sit back up and stand up behind him.

“Tell me the truth, John, please.” You asked one more time.

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Don’t mind it, sugar. I promise non of it is true…” He turned around looking for any sense of acceptance in your face, “Okay?” He asked.

You nod your head, “Okay Johnny,” You said, “As long as you’re telling me the truth.”

________________________________________

The next day the rain had finally cleared and the sun was shining hella bright, you two end up going into town for a sweet treat. Though, you finally noticed that people far away are giving you wide eyes. ‘Is my hair a mess? Oh my god— is my makeup running?… Was it Johnny?’ Your thoughts raced, ‘But Johnny was a sweetheart, right?’

Johnny and you had figured that getting ice cream in this texan environment would be a delight, in fact he was already pushing you into an ice cream parlor. An older women waited for you two at the cashier watching you come through the door. As you two walked past all of the tables lined up against the walls a man whispered into the waiting women’s ear and she immediately walked away. The man now awaited instead.

Johnny immediately tried to pull you back and away from the man but you had already made eye contact with the cashier. He greets with a gesture, “Hey there, what can I get for you, princess?”

You let out a hesitate chuckle, “Heh, I’ll get…”

You trailed off on your order. Johnny couldn’t help but stare at the man. His hand rested on his knife as his eyes looked over at the way his hand grazed yours, the way he smiled at you, the way his eyes tried to look down your shirt—

"Johnny, can you grab me a spoon?” You ask Johnny. Johnnys trance is broken and his hand leaves his knife. All he simply does is nod, hand you a few dollars for the cups of ice cream and walk away.

But before Johnny could walk away the cashier whispers to you, "No, I'll pay for it, on the house— only if you give me a kiss.” He winks and you finally recognized why he came to the cashier instead of the women.

"U-Um… no thanks." You immediately said uncomfortablely, “Here.” You hand him the amount of needed money and shove it closer to him while leaning back. His face creases into a grimace as he looks at Johnny.

He glances at you, then back to Johnny, then back to you. You knew Johnny was looking right at the man regardless if you looked back or not— you could tell. There's a source of tension in the air around you as you noticed how the strangers brows furrowed, and you can't help but feel a lump in your throat.

“Well?” You forced yourself to said, “M-My ice cream?”

The man shakes his head and hands you the two cups ice cream while scoffing, “Do you know who the hell he is? I can’t believe this shit.” And with that he left into another room behind him. Your face couldn’t hide the utter confusion the situation that just happened. All you could do is hand Johnny his ice cream and walk out the door, not bothering to stay.

"That guy was something, wasn't he?" You hand the cup of ice cream to him and thank him for paying giving him his spoon.

"Maybe," Johnny quietly replies. “But you see how he looked at me? He looked at me like I was some sort a monster or somethin'."

Johnny now leans against the wall and doesn’t seem to be interested in the ice cream anymore.

You think back to Leland... the town really did believe the rumors... should you?

"Yeah. It'll be fine, right?..." You take a lightly bite of the ice cream.

Johnnys eyes perk open, his body slugs against the brick wall, "Maybe." Johnny replies with a large smile. You take another bite watching him closely, recognizing that his ‘maybe’ might have not been a statement to yours a moment ago.

“I have an idea…” He sang to himself, smirking looking out into the street. Your mind was racing, and you couldn't help but feel a slight tingle of unease.

However, as Johnny leans his body against yours, the muscles on his arms grazing yours and his head leaning onto yours and the tension seemed to melt away like ice cream.

It was almost as if Johnny was trying to rid you of any sort of doubt you once had. His tender touch, his gentle demeanor, it was all... comforting.

"Hey, how bout' ya come to my place. Show ya how pretty is." He says. You've never really been over to his property but from what you heard it's a little 'too pretty'.

You nod my head, "Yes, let's do that."

"Darlin'," He gestures you to walk first and he throws the ice cream in the trash. ‘Darlin’ Its the way his accent rolls off his tongue when he says it and your cheeks turn pink every time— the sweetest thing you hear from him.

Like a switch went off, his walk has a pep in his step, but you giggle as you finish your treat. He seems awfully happy all of a sudden, but you don't mind it, you liked when he was giddy.

As you walk alongside Johnny, the sun casts long shadows across the dusty road. The townspeople’s wary glances follow you both, like crows watching a pair of unsuspecting travelers. Throwing the cup into an upcoming trash can, you suddenly felt Johnny’s hand brushes against yours and you couldn’t help but realize that you definitely had a crush on Johnny.

Johnnys words suddenly echo in your mind: “He looked at me like I was some sort of monster.”

They see Johnny’s family as a ‘horror’, their eyes wide with suspicion. But you? You’ve felt the softness of his touch, the warmth of his gaze. You didn’t see any monsters in him.

As you climb into his truck and shut the door, its engine roars to life. The tires kick up dirt, and you yelp as he hit the curb side. The wind tousles your hair, and you hold on tight, heart racing as you rush to put on your seatbelt.

“Sorry ‘bout dat, princess!” His words coat his lips like sugar, smooth and effortless. His voice—a blend of charm and raw honey—wraps around you like a well-worn quilt. It’s a voice that could soothe storms and ignite fires.

You steal a glance at him—the way his fingers grip the steering wheel, the sun-kissed lines etched around his eyes. There’s a wildness there, a hint of something untamed but it only adds to his sometimes stoic personality.

You wondered back to that night you two were stuck in that thunderstorm… you nearly forgot about that. ________________________________________

Flash back:

“Johnny… I’m nervous.” You said looking out the window.

Johnny shifts back in his seat, leaning against the door trying to get comfortable with the uncomfortable wet clothing sticking to his body. The rain seemed to beat harder on the roof of his truck. Breaking your parents rule with going out, You two had just ran a marathon through the park trail to get back to the truck.

“What chu’ mean? The rain scaring you?” He asked.

“I-I mean, the rain is kind of freaking me out, where the hell did it even come from? It was sunny an hour ago… but—“ You paused.

His brows furrowed, turning towards you, waiting for what will come after, “But?”

Looking at him, you hold your legs together in the truck seat, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s so weird,” You start, looking at your drenched clothing, “how can I be freezing from the rain,” You explained at first, grabbing the ends of your hair squeezing it onto the truck floor, “but my body feels hot right now?” You look down, embarrassed by your own confession. Wet dropplets from his hair dripped onto his lap, his legs spread, thinking of what to say.

Johnny smirks, that damn smirk that always has you blushing. “Oh really? What kind of hot?”

“I’m not sure. I remember when we always snuck out when we were a bit younger. I always had to climb out my window before my parents found out that there was a ‘random’ truck parked outside.” You chuckle at the memory. “It was a crazy feeling, and I’ve noticed it still hasn’t gone away… It feels different now too.”

He leans in closer, “Yeah? I think I feel the same way.”

The confession hangs in the air, a shared secret between you two. It’s as if you both of you knew the truth about each other already. The truck feels smaller now. His back leaned off from the door and towards you and your body couldn’t stop itself from leaning into him. Suddenly you two we’re so close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off each others body.

“You do?”

…

Loud thunder cracked through the sky. Loud. You gasped as the truck vibrated under the sound, thunder was scary at a point but now you were getting unnerved about the rain.

You suggested, “I think you should take me home… m’kay?”

Johnny leans away and lets out a sigh, “Okay.”

_______________________________________

The drive home from that night was so awkward after…

You guys finally pull up to his property; his step dad’s property. He hates his step dad. He never really mentioned his mom as often as his step dad now that you thought about it… Every moment you ever did bring her up he’d change the topic.

Though, the house was beautiful, too beautiful— like everyone said it would be. In fact, flowers in an array of colors almost covered the entire property.

Sunflowers, they beautifully bloom, peeking out from the backyard. Their vibrant yellow petals contrasted with the dark secrets that lay hidden within the walls of that house.

“Oh, so this is the house you take all your women, huh?” You broke the silence.

“No, no. Just a few flings.”

Your heart kinda broke at that comment. You made a joke and Johnny’s casual remark about at your joke hit you harder than you expected. It was a joke, sure, but it sliced through your heart like a shard of glass.

You had laughed it off, but the truth lingered—a string of flings, a trail of memories left behind. You wondered if they whispered to each other, sharing memories, just like you and Johnny did.

Johnny’s voice cut your thoughts off. “Don’t worry,” He said, his eyes searching yours. “The girls or I didn’t like each other enough anyway. Part of the reason why I won’t see them again.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken regret. You wanted to ask more about these past flings, the women who had came and gone but instead, you forced a smile. “Funny,” you replied, your attempt at nonchalance falling flat. “They’re called flings for a reason.”

Johnny’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand. “They aren’t important,” he said, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, “But you are.”

You smile and look away, trying to hide the obvious heat rising on your face. As you two walk along the side road, he continued, “Come on, I wanted you to show you the back, mostly. When my mother got together with my stepdad, this place was a mess. But with her touch…” He gestured toward the backyard, and your breath caught.

The sun, now a warm golden orb, dipped toward the horizon, casting a gentle glow over the landscape. The flowers—oh, the flowers!—seemed to dance in the light. Petals flowed like delicate skirts in the wind, their colors intensified by the sun. Roses blushed crimson, hundreds of sunflowers stood tall in rows, and lavender flowed through the cool breeze.

“John!” You stammered, your eyes not leaving the landscape, “I-I can’t believe this. It’s…” Your words trailed off, pausing to capture the beauty of the moment. The backyard, is of a beauty.

As the sun dipped slowly lower with each minute, but you imagined his mom hands tending to each petal, creating life from the soil. She had turned the so called mess into bouncing colors, and in that quiet backyard, you felt her presence.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “it’s our little piece of art. I remember her forcing me to do garden work but lookin’ at it now. I don’t regret doing it.”

His hand pushes against the small of your back, hurrying further into the garden. Behind the garden hid a good amount of broken down cars. Johnny was a mechanic of course, so it made sense. The art unfortunately was covering Johnnys hobby.

“All these cars but not one of em are finished?” You teased.

“Aye— I try. I’m too busy dealing with your ass.” He teased back.

You laugh and look down at the ground, shyly.

He motions you towards him when he walks a bit further down.

“Come on, short stack.”

He opens the car door closest to ya’ll, to the back seat. The car seemed so pristine. It must have been freshly broken down. But… it looked a little too cleaned. Climbing in, you settled in. The leathers of the seat were warm due to the hot sun beating onto the roof, but you didn’t mind. Johnny piles into the back too through the other side. Leaving the doors open he looks at you, “So, what did ya’ think? Pretty?” He asked, taking off his yellow working gloves.

“Beautiful. It’s so beautiful out here, why wouldn’t you ever bring me here?”

His features dropped, looking at the drivers seat in front of him, “You ask too many questions,” He lets out a small chuckle, “My ma, she left for the weekend. I figured today would be okay to sneak ya onto the property. She isn’t too fond of new visitors… And the rest of my family don’t and won’t know you’re here.”

He trails off and looks down at the ground but regardless you nod along at his explanation. His mother really seemed off. If you’ve known him this long his mother must know me even a little? “Well, you think she and maybe your family would be okay with me? Maybe she—“

“Nope. she’s… different, that’s why i snuck you here.” He harshly interrupted, and it seemed intentional.

“By this point you’re leaving me with more questions than answers. What is it with your mom anyway? This place was made pretty by her but with how you describe her she sounds like… like— like a evil person?”

It was as if a switch was just flipped, “Would ya stop your bitchin’ and askin’ about Nancy? I don’t want to talk about her, end of story. I don’t want chu’ meetin’ her because she’s a crazed’ ass women.”

He shifts away into his seat, not baring to face you. His leg hooks over the edge and steps out of the car. Your eyes flicker every where else but him. ‘Did I take it too far?’ You thought. You grab at your own arms in a comfort waiting for him to do the talking— you were too scared to speak.

He leans back into the door way, his head poking in with his arms leaning onto the car door frame, “I’m— I didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart. The only thing chu’ need to know is that I despise my mother… That’s all. Would you let me see that pretty face again, angel?”

Looking away even more, you decided to speak up again, “Everything about you is always so confusin’. What are we?” You shift in your seat, moving your body away from him more, leaning out your door, “You can call me all these sweet nicknames, act like i’m something more to you but treat me as if i’m not important enough to not know your personal life or that damn scar on your face! I think you’re playing with my feelings.” You spit out.

“Hey… I didn’t mean it like that.” He says trying to reason.

“Yeah, just—“

He crawls back into the cars back seat. Getting closer he reaches behind you and shuts the door you came in through. His hand leans onto the door behind you holding himself up, his other hand trapping you in his frame. The way he stared at you reminded you of that night in the truck, the rain the tension—

“Johnny— about that night...” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

Johnny looks away, trying to look at anything else as if he was a lil’ embarrassed, “I was just about to mention that… I thought you weren’t gonna bring that up again.”

“I wish I didn’t tell you to take me home.”

The air inside the car feels charged, thick with anticipation. His body still leaned over yours, not moving. Johnny’s eyes search yours again, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head. His fingers brush against your cheek, tracing the curve of your jawline. The weight of his gaze is both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Sweetheart, you sweet, sweet thing.” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

His lips hover just inches from yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m assuming we both knew what was about to happen in my truck that night, huh?” He chuckled out.

“It’s not exactly the stuff of romance novels,” you say, your voice barely audible. You hand slowly reached up and touched his scar on his face, tracing the edges and trialing off to put your hand on his chest softly, “But it was romanic to me. The rain, the tension, your wet hair, there was so much tension. I should’ve done something about it.”

He paused.

Without any word being said he lugged forward.

His lips meet yours, and the world outside fades away. There’s no soundtrack in the background, no grand gestures—just the taste of vanilla ice cream, and the desperation of his mouth against yours. It’s not shy or hesitant; it’s hungry. Your body was cramped against the car door but you didn’t care in the moment.

His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, “I thought you weren’t ever gonna cue me into this, darlin’…” The leather seat creaks beneath you as he shifts, deepening the kiss. And suddenly, the cars cramped interior feels like the most intimate place in the world. “I wish I would have done something sooner.”

His touch was impatient, urgent-a starving ache that consumed them both. Fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as if he could meld your souls through the kiss.

You slid down the seat— it being more comfortable than the uneven surface of the door— your heart racing, and lay back, your hands resting on his hips. He hovered above you, “God damn it, it is gettin’ way too hot in here f’me…” He takes his shirt off and throws it in the front seat. And there he was, shirtless. The dips of his defined chest are definded by the fading light. Scars littered his skin. His gaze bore into yours, hungry and unyielding.

His voice, a teasing whisper, sent shivers down your spine. "See sum' you like?" he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. It wasn't just any desire— it felt elevated. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

You nodded, unable to form words. His mouth found yours once more, claiming you without a doubt.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his mouth strikes yours, inviting you into a rough embrace. A low, mumbled moan vibrates from your lips onto his, causing him to chuckle. Immediately, his arms around you press you against his body, bringing your small frame into a cradle as he leans back up. Your legs wrap around his hips, his hands gripping your your lower back and the back of your neck.

How effortlessly he handled your body made your head spin. His broad shoulders covered the open door behind him, and he props himself with his hands on the seats beside him. He leans to one side, letting his free hand fidget with your shorts, his lips never leaving for breath. He tugs them off, chuckling as they fumble over your thighs.

You could feel his hard cock press against your crotch through his rough pants and you whimpered, his lips felt so good against your skin. His experienced touch began to get more firmly with every moan and sigh you let out.

Johnny trails his kisses down to your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His hands caught onto your breasts through your shirt, massaging into their warmth. You take off your shirt and with bright eyes as he leans in. His nose is buried into your cleavage, and you take the time to undo the back of your bra, and sliding the straps down your arms. His hands yank the rest of the fabric off your arms, his mouth latched onto your nipple, a low drawn-out moan escaping your lips.

You wondered how loud is too loud. Will his family hear y’all from the back yard. Can they see you two rocking the car trying to grab at each other?

It was as if he could hear your overthinking thoughts, “It’s okay, darlin’, i’ll take care of everything, all chu’ need to do is be quiet.” His lips finally detached from your chest with a pop and put his forehead against yours. He gave a smile— with teeth. A genuine smile. His eyes created wrinkles due to the smile, it was cute. You rarely see it.

You smile back and lean up to capture his lips again. My hands go down his bare back, feeling the scars down his spine. His head dipped slowly down your body, and your breath hitched. His lips, warm and insistent, left a trail of fire along your skin.

“What are you doing to me?” You gasp out. His hand reaches up and and puts a finger on your lips, as if to shut you up. He didn’t even bother to look up, he was staring at your panties.

The feeling of his hand tightening made your pussy pulse and seems to have notice your panties shift ever so slightly. “Ooo, baby girl, you like that, don’t you? You’re gonna be leakin’… after i’m done with you that is.” A breathy laugh left his throat. Realizing he could see everything you try and close your legs but his other arm holds one thigh down and he lays his head on the other. His hand on your mouth let go and his fingers trail along the hem of your panties.

“Not so fast, i’m taking my time with you. Been wantin’ this forever now.”

You blush, “Forever?” He nods his head, “Honey, with a body and spunk like yours ya think I wouldn’t wanna explore more?” He remarks and blows against your panties. You let out a whine, it pushes him further. He licks a long stripe along the cloth. Your eyes widen as you watched him.

His thick fingers pulled your panties to the side. He takes a breath in, “You smell so sweet, darlin’,” he kisses right above your pussy. Your clit twitches. “Now, my family can’t see us but keep it down for me.” You nod your head eagerly.

Without another word he dove in. Your legs try to clench together but his hand didn’t budge to let them do so. His tongue worked on your clit, it was clear that he had experience but it felt like he was starving for years. He shakes his head against your pussy and groans, “Mmh, this pussy was made for me.”

You let out a long strangled sigh, “Johnny— Ngh.” Your elbows shifted behind you to hold yourself up to watch his tongue work wonders on you.

“— Leakin’ all over.” He groans into your folds, the vibrations were enough to make your back arch. His tongue was relentless, trying to get into every crevice for your sweet nectar. Johnny couldn’t get enough, he resorts to pushing your upper body back down on the seat. Your trance was broken, “Johnny?”

He gets out the car, determinations behind his eyes, “I’m just trying to get a better angle on you, angel.” When he leans out from the car door, it looked as if he was looking around first, making sure the sunflowers and other cars blocked the view if his family looked outside. His hands grasp your waist pulling your body down the sweaty leather seat, he held your calf’s and he looks at you like he was giving you a warning. All of a sudden he folds your body. You gasp as your thighs met your waist and your feet dangle in the air. Your pussy was on full display in the glowing sun. It was embarrassing, he could see everything…

“Aw, princess, ya look even more beautiful in the sun…” He was in awe, “I ain’t never seen a prettier thing in my life.”

Your head spinned at the embarrassment, your face red and hot. The angle was better, the way he was able to fold your body and you were squirming under his hold was way too much. His tongue began his assault again. Your hand slaps over your mouth again, muffling your moans, your other hand shoots down to his hair. The gel in his hair was noticeable but your fingers run through the strains, breaking the seal. His hair was wild, cowlicks hovering over his forehead, you didn’t care though— the look of it was… fuck.

Using his thumbs, he spreads apart your throbbing folds, slick with his own spit and your arosoul. You let out a small whine, trying to close your legs again.

He smirks, “Gettin’ all shy now?”

You shake your head, “U-Um, no, just… never had someone look at my—… so close, y’know?”

He sticks out his tongue, it prods against your hole, and it’s gonna go into your pussy… His eyes watch your reaction and yours widen as you felt it go inside your pussy, he was practically tongue fucking you—

“A-ah, oh my god.” You breathe out. He huffed in amusement against your folds, his thumbs continue to hold your them apart. You tremble uncontrollably in pure arousal and excitement as he rubs the flat of his drooling tongue against your slick. He watched as you writhed on the leather seats, eyes closed, and your mouth in an ‘o’ shape. Seeing you spread out for him like this really stirs something in him– your chest heaving and your breathing hitching and slow, but your face still looks peaceful, in bliss. Your hands retreats back to his hair, you’re grinding on his mouth now and his eyes flutter close, he smirking against your pussy.

Just as it was getting good, “Holy s-shit!~ Mmh—“ You moaned out on accident and he immediately bit your thigh. His teeth were enough to feel as if a dog did it instead, you’re about to let out a strangled yell but his hand latches onto your mouth and the other on the back of your neck. His harsh grip pulled your upper body up and he makes you stare up at him. He grabbed his shirt to wipe the slick off his mouth and he turned back to you.

His body was towering over yours, with you laying on your back and his large frame he blocked the sunset— it was making it darker in the car. “What’d i say? I said to keep quiet.” The hand that was latched to your mouth drifted to your cheeks, squeezing them together like you were a toy. His eyes were upset, angered, “You were doing so well— what would we do if my family hears us?” He squeezed your cheeks harder to motion your face to get closer to him. “Now keep quiet.” The look in his eyes were different, he was genuinely scared of them hearing you two? His words hung heavy in the dim space, and you could feel the weight of his desperation.

The car's interior felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. His body loomed over yours, casting a shadow that swallowed the last rays of the setting sun. His grip on your cheeks was harsh, but he soon let go but not without a look of warning.

You began to really wonder about the rumors—about his family. What about Leland? Was he telling the truth? Johnny was a grown man, why would he be this scared to be caught? This felt off.

When his touch shifted, and you couldn’t help but wince. His breath was hot against your skin, and you could see the anger etched into the lines of his face.

“Now be a good girl for me and we’ll be okay, got tha’?”

You nod slowly, still taken back by his roughness from only moments before. He smirks and drags his fingers along your folds. He prods the tip of his pointer finger and middle finger at your entrance. “Wait—“

He shoves them in, your hand slammed onto your mouth and you held your breath. He grins, wasting no time, pushing them in to his knuckle. You’ve fingered yourself plenty of times but it was nothing compared to how thick his fingers were, they filled you up. He growled at the tightness, “Ooo, baby girl, you are milkin’ my fingers.”

He slides them back out, “Lemme’ see,” he groans. He shifts his hand, adding a third finger in your pussy. The burning stretch made your breathing become faster and he couldn’t help but laugh lowly, “Maybe Leland wanted to get rid of me because he wanted a chance with this pussy—“

You close your legs automatically at the name drop, “That wasn’t called for. Don’t bring Leland into this.” His eyes sharpen, and he pulls his fingers out, you continue, “He’s only lookin’ out me for me… that’s it.”

A switch went off again, is expression was no longer cocky, it was more than cocky. “Heh.” He chuckled darkly, “Leland. What a fuckin’ joke.” He gets up and starts tugging at his belt, the tent in his pants clearly straining against the denim. You notice how rough he was loosing his belt, his wet finger smearing across the leather. “You,” He spoke up, “You better know what hole you’re diggin’ for yourself darlin’.”

You try and deescalate his visible anger, “J-Johnny, I didn’t mean it like that.”

His available hand ran through his hair, frustratingly, “I knew I had to get rid of him soon enough, I didn’t do it quick enough.” He whispered under his breath.

Your eyes shoot wide hearing this, “I’ll… I’ll get rid of him,” You say, your hand resting on his hand on his belt, trying to comfort him, “I promise. He’s been a pain in my ass anyway.” You lie through your teeth.

Johnnys teeth grit in a silent huff, “Yeah,” He smiles, “Real pain in my ass.” He repeats. His fingers, now free from the belt, traced a path up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He dips down closer to your face, his hands grasping yours, pinning them above your head onto the doors window with one hand and the other grabbing your chin to look at him. “You think you can handle it?” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Getting rid of him?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing heart and your hands struggling against his grip, “I can handle it,” you whispered, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. “For you, Johnny, I can handle anything.”

The wind picked up outside, the breeze grazing against your exposed pussy. Your legs shake when you felt his hand graze against your cold skin. As you looked up his body you notice something, his knife. It glinted in the sunlight as he repositioned himself noticing your shivering body. He bent backwards and proceeded to shut the door— letting you warm up… and in the process trapping you inside.

Settling in, he smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Good,” he said to your confession, his hand moving to cup your chin, tilting your face up to his. “But if you can’t— you leave now.”

Your face lit up in confusion, “I-I… leave?” Your eyes search around the car for any answer, “W-What do you mean?”

Johnny’s grip tightened slightly on your pinned hands, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction. “Yeah, leave,” he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “If you can’t handle it— if you feel like me asking to get rid of Leland is too much, then there’s no place for you. You open the door yourself and let yourself out.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, the weight of his words sinking in. “I can handle it,” you insisted, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, Johnny, I promise.” You didn’t even try to lift your pinned hands from his grip.

Johnny’s expression softened just a fraction, but the threating tension lingered in the air. “You’ve got one chance,” he warned. “Don’t mess it up.”

Though you do care about Leland, he was so determined to warn you about Johnny— but now, the fear of losing Johnny was overwhelming, leaving you no choice but to comply. Leland will be okay…

The moment he recognized that you were being serious about his wishes, Johnny’s demeanor shifted slightly. His grip on your hands loosened, and a flicker of something softer passed through his eyes. “Alright, darlin’.”

He released your chin, but his gaze remained intense, analyzing every change of your expression. His fingers trail onto your thigh, the same area where he had bit you earlier, the teeth marks being every evident. “I’m sorry if I scared ya’… I really care about us,” he apologized, his voice still carrying an edge of danger. “But I’m trusting you with this.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling his hand drift down your body. His grip was soft again as he hails your leg over his shoulder, your heart pounded in your chest—the mixture of fear and longing almost overwhelming. Your chest slightly recoiled as he readjusted himself, and your breath fastened when you saw his face contort into Johnny’s face contorted into a mix of desire and desperation, his breath hot against the side of your calf. The car seemed to shrink around you. His hands, now gentle, traced a path down your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I need you to understand how much this means to me.”

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. The fear of losing him was a constant ache, but so was the longing to be close to him, to feel his touch and hear his voice.

“I do understand,” you whispered back, your voice shaken. “I-I… I just don’t want to lose you.”

Just yesterday you two were in your room trying to compromise each others worlds of rumors and whispers and now you were in a random car with Johnny on top of you…

His eyes softened further, and for a moment, you saw that vulnerability— the same vulnerability he’s always gave you beneath his tough exterior. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that spoke of so much possession and promise.

“Good,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Because I don’t wanna lose you either.”

His fingers trail back to your pussy, barely pushing the tip of his finger inside, and before you could ask why he was hesitant he asks, “I was gettin’ a lil’ ahead of myself back there, i’m sorry. C-Can I?” He stuttered. He stuttered? Like a mirror you hesitate too, but you nod again. As he put his fingers back in he immediately hooks them upward, pushing against your sweet spot. Your hands went to his arm, keeping the pace for him as your mouth panted trying to keep up. He noticed and leaned into your neck as he slowly added another finger, “Breathe,” He whispered, “Breathe for me, girl. It’s okay.”

His other hand fidgeted with his knife. Your eyes darted down towards the shiny reflective steel wondering what he was going to do with it… But he only threw it into the front seat and it landed beside his discarded shirt. Your eyes slowly close, relaxing on his fingers, you plusing subconsciously around his thick fingers.

He takes them out spreading them apart, seeing familiar slick cover the scars littered over his fingers. As you watched him observe the sticky ooze connect and hang through his fingers you assumed that he was going to wipe them onto his pants or lick them but instead he lends them towards your face. With confusion, you instinctively open your mouth and without another moment he drags his slick fingers along your tongue. Tasting yourself wasn’t the most surprising thing that has happened but you’ve never thought to try this yourself. You suck on them with your eyes slightly open, but you watch his face curl into a pleased expression, “Good girl~” He whispered with a growl.

With no more hesitation you began to hold onto his wrist keeping them still as you opened your mouth twirling your tongue throughout his thick fingers. When your lips fully wrap around he couldn’t stand it anymore— he couldn’t stand another moment being in his pants. His cock was too tight against the demium, he wanted to be inside you. He pulls his fingers out with a pop, and rushes to fully pull off his pants.

“Girl, You have no idea what the hell you’re doin’ to me.” He gasped. When he took off his pants and threw them into the floor of the car he couldn’t quite wait to take off his underwear, “Fuck this shit.” His hand reaches into his underwear and he takes out of his cock. It looked heavy, and you really thought the bulge in his pants was big… more you had thought about it the more you realized he walked like it was heavy too.

His hand stroked his cock trying to relieve the pressure. You wanted to help him, your hand reaching over placing it on top of his on his dick, “Woah,” He stopped, “Wha’ chu’ doin’?” He said. “Oh darlin’— you don’t need ta’…” Johnnys words fanned across your face as his eyes closed shut tight as you smeared the leaking pre-cum around his tip with your thumb. Your index finger traced the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. The action had Johnny let out a long sigh towering above you.

Johnny shoves your hand softy, “As much as I want ta’ fuck your hand— I wan’ to fuck you more.” He opens your legs, displaying your pussy to him again. He finally takes his underwear off fully in a hurry, letting out a loud sigh as he threw them into the front seat. He leans down licking small stripes up between your folds for a moment and your body couldn’t hold back the shiver that went through you body when his lips sucked on your clit softly. He detached himself as he moved his body against yours, you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement all over again. You finally knew he was capable of, and yet you couldn't resist the pull of his presence. You fully relaxed your body as much as you could and he pulled your leg up, your body instinctively arching up to meet his.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear again. "Ya' ready, or nah?" he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly. You could feel his breath on your neck, his muscles flexing as he held himself up waiting for your response. You felt like a virgin again, like this was the scariest thing you’ve had to do but you were excited and for proof: you shake your head but quickly began to nod, “Yea— Yes, I’m ready.”

You gasped as you felt his shaft rubbing between your folds, "I'm ready," you repeated, your voice a little shaky.

This was all a sweet honey trap; an illusion to lure you in. He's managed to keep your eyes closed, your mind empty, and your attention on him. He's got you right where he wants you...

He watched you carefully, his sharpened gaze never leaving your face as his hard cock finally pushed into you slowly, quickly adapting to your plush walls. The way your breath hitched, the way your body arched beneath his touch made his eyes roll back and close. You were tight, he wasn’t used to it. His hands roamed across your skin, finger nails on your hips digging into your flesh just enough to leave a mark.

He pressed his hips harder against yours and a harsh gasp came out of your mouth, it hurt, “W-Wait,” You whispered, “F-Fuck, it hurts.” He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest as he dipped his head down to bite gently at your neck when your pussy started twitching and pulsing around his dick. “Relax, darlin’. I thought chu’ told me you weren’t a virgin.” He chuckle recalling you telling him you were during a innocent game of 20 questions. He knew why it was painful, he may be cocky but he wasn’t dumb. “Am I too big for ya’, princess?”

You chuckle out a laugh even if it was shaky, “Shut up.” You nod your head, “I think it’s feeling a little better.” You said. He couldn’t stop himself with the biggest grin on his face from reaching between you two to your clit, gently rubbing it. Your legs wrap around his waist in reflex, instinctively locking them while your head leaned back in a pleasant sigh.

“G-Go.” Is all you could say.

Without another question he grabbed your waist and leaned over you, “Just relax your body.” He pushed his hips out and then back in slowly, thrusting into you with the combination of half and full strokes to draw every small noise from you. The slow bounce of your tits are hypnotizing to him, more so he decided to speed up the pace. Your hands hold on to his shoulders, sealing your lips together in a thin line as much as you could to keep quiet but it was becoming really hard to.

One of his hands on your waist drifted up to your chest, squeezing your nipple teasingly only to leaning down the lick it and wrap his mouth around it. Your body still jerked along with his thrust but your hands let go of his shoulders and instead held onto the back of his neck and the other in his hair again.

“Don’t stop.” You whispered in a quiet strained voice. He moaned against your nipple and began to speed up. He unlatched from your chest and grabbed your legs instead, hauling them over his shoulder. “J-Johnny?” Before he said anything he held the meat of your calves and said “Try and be quiet.” With that it was he started pounding into your pussy, practically holding you in half.

Your hands struggled to reach for any of him so you resorted to holding onto the back of the front seat next to you, while your other held your mouth shut. Your eyes closed themselves as he thrusted in and out of you vigorously. The sounds of his hips slamming into the back of your thighs was undeniably quite loud but you were sure the sounds of just straight moans would be more concerning for anyone that could hear.

He smirked and laughed again, “I bet Leland couldn’t fold you over and fuck the livin’ hell out of ya like I do. Fuckin’ bastard tryin’ to take ya away from me— I’ll kill the motherfucker.” Your mind was too fucked to even recognize what he had just said, “L-Leland?” You asked trying to make out what he did say. He shook his head, “I don’t want his fucking name in your mouth again.” He slowed down for a moment, spreading your legs apart and trying to pump himself as deep as possible into you. “I don’t want Leland around ever again.” He said, his hand cupping your face and kissing you. A thin layer of sweat formed on your chest, pieces of your baby hairs stuck to the sides of your forehead and so did his.

“Babygirl,” He panted out, letting go of your lips, “I-I…” He paused putting his head into your neck, still doing deep thrust. Your legs began to try and close themselves on him but he immediately harshly grabbed them again, “Try and close your legs one more fuckin’ time and you wont be able to close em’ again.” He said panting, speeding up again, “Wan’ ta’ close your legs, eh?”

“J-Johnny.” You whispered, your eyes tearing up from the overstimulation. Your head rolling back again and your body tensing. Your throat couldn’t hold back anymore, you let out a strangled moan but started apologizing in a panic. He thrusted harshly, “The [thrust] door [thrust] is [thrust] closed, baby.” He groaned, and this was your cue that you could be almost as loud as you wanted to be now.

You nod your head and sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and shifting your weight onto his lap. You look out the window trying to gather up your thoughts, and you see outside that it’s night already. ‘How long have we been in this car?’ you thought. Your thoughts were cut off when his hands held onto his waist helping you grind your pussy down onto his cock but one of his hands began to explore. He dragged his hand from your waist, to your chest, collarbone, the side of your neck and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing. Your body jerked slightly and you shuttered under his grasp, he could feel your walls pulsing around him tightly.

“Yeah? Yeah— you like that, don’t chu’?” He said laughing lowly to himself, “You like it when I’m rough with ya’?” He thrusted up slightly into as much as he could and he watched your mouth open in pleasure.

“Please. Please— I…” You trail off letting out a strained moan when he tightened his grip slightly on your neck. He didn’t need to know what you were saying, all he had to know was that you were enjoying every moment of this.

“Hold on, darlin’.” He said letting go of your poor pleading body and shifts himself to lay down and you on top. He bends his knees and plants his feet down on the leather seat and the other on the car floor, he gripped your hips and helped you gain a pace. You quickly try and gain any grip you had left to hold yourself up, you end up putting your hands on the car door to do so.

You begin to move up and down his dick, feeling his large hand hold your ass cheek whilst the other plays with your nipple, pinching and rolling it. You let out a loud moan, feeling waves of pleasure crash inside of you. "Look at chu’, princess, you are doin’ so well f’me.” He praises, slapping your ass cheek and jigglying the fat. You clench around him, letting out a guttural moan, closing your eyes enjoying the feeling of bouncing on his cock. He thrust his hips upwards, matching your pace but you weren’t match though, and it was frustrating him, “God fuckin’ damn, baby.” He growled. He grabbed both of your hips and roughly started pounding up into you. You gasp loudly trying to hold yourself up but it was becoming increasingly harder. The sound of his thighs clapping against your ass cheeks sounded erotic and unfamiliar but you were living for it. Your hand reaches up trying to hold yourself up with the window, barely realizing it was steamed up and foggy. You went back to gripping the door instead. He continued to pound into you but it started to falter, “F-Fuck… I’m about to fuckin’ cum, doll…” He stopped entirely and looked up at you.

“Y-You doin’ okay?” He asked laughing when you were grinding down onto him still. He smiled finally connecting that you were close. “Keep goin’, keep it goin’ f’me.” His hand drifted again to your throat and squeezed while his other hand went to your clit, rubbing quick circles. Your mouth opened again in a silent scream and your head tossed itself back. Your body began to shake. “Agh!” You yelled suddenly. Your hands land on his chest as your body started twitching and he could feel your pussy violently pulsing around him. It was too much for Johnny.

He started fucking up into again, relentlessly and your eyes widen because of the overwhelming amount of stimulation, “J-Johnny!” You said, your hands balling themselves into fists and your head dipping into his neck, “Ahh!” You moan when his hand slapped your ass harshly once again.

“Darlin~” He said, moaning low under his breath, his hips shuttering and grabbing your hips to slowly grind yourself onto him. You couldn’t move anymore and he was holding you like a ragdoll. He lifted your hips again, and pulled out. Cum dripped down his cock and out of your pussy, flowing down his inner thigh. He softly let go of your body and your sweaty chest laid against his. The sounds of pants was the only sound in the car now. Your body raised up and down in combination between you and him trying to catch your breaths.

His arms wrapped around you waist and kissed the side of your forehead. “So,” He started off, “Do you love me?”

The question caught you so off guard but with everything that just happened, the answer was clear as day, “Y-Yes.” You stuttered, shaking to try and look at him. He gave you a soft smile and kissed your jawline.

He said. He chuckled to himself, “At this point, I love you too.” He said quietly, looking up at your fragile figure. “Just don’t break my trust.” He said seriously, “I mean it.” He repeated.

You nod your head, “I won’t.” You lay back down against him and really began to think. His sudden outburst on you over getting a little too loud. What would he have done if you didn’t back petal your lil’ rebellion to him saying horrible things about your dear friend? Then you remembered what he said while literally pounding you, that he would kill Leland if he got in the way…You were starting to remember.

“Is that about Leland?” You asked, regrettably, hoping he didn’t hear you— but he did.

He gripped your hair and pulled your head to look at him, “What the hell did I tell you about saying his name? I don’t wan’ his name in your god damn mouth— only mine.” He said, his eyes glaring. He let go and kissed the side of your forehead again.

Your heart began pounding. You’ll have to be his ride or die to protect Leland but… you love Johnny too. Maybe being with the rumored bad man is going to be harder than you thought. Maybe you should have listened to Leland, ‘but Johnny would never hurt me, right?’

_______________________________________________

He loved your hipdips. He loved rubbing them with his dirty hands under your sundress as you made sandwiches and lemonade for him after a hard day of working on your car. His rough large hand were able to grip them as your body slammed down onto his cock, giving you leverage and aid in pleasing him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s not enough to cum in you—it’s about keeping it there. He likes filling you up until it’s dripping out of you and then shoving it right back in with his fingers. His head tilts, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth as he watches you squirm.

“Look at that, sugar. Leakin’ all over the fuckin’ floor. You’re gonna keep every drop for me, yeah?”

And if you can’t? He’ll press his palm flat against your pussy, his rough fingers curling up to make sure you’re stuffed full and crying his name all over again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s been in your house. Before you ever knew his name. Before he ever touched you, he knew where you kept your panties, what lotion you wore, and how you bit your lip when you read those filthy little romance novels at night. That diary? He didn’t just read it—he memorized it. That first night he had you crying under him, moaning about being choked and ruined? He wasn’t guessing. He knew every dirty fantasy you’d written down. And he plays them out exactly how you wanted—just to watch you realize you never stood a chance against him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is very experienced. He was… experimental in his younger age. As he got more handsome there was more girls on him like fleas. You’d assume he took advantage of this, of course.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He loved the idea of knowing that even if you were on top he could still have more power over the whole situation. However, if you decided to do something you’ll regret— trying to slap that beautiful ass of his— you will have your face in a pillow and your ass being pounded. And his most favorite, doogystyle, he loves watching the way your ass and tits recoiled with the snap of his hips, the control he has over your body. the memory of his dick sliding in and out of your pussy lives in his head. he loves it even more when you push back into him— do it, you womt regret it~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Expect no funny moments when you get Johnny in the mood. When he’s horny, everything else in the world is radio silent in his head. Even if you tried cracking a joke he’d probably wipe that smile right off your face by slapping your ass and slamming his lips onto yours. But I know you’d gladly kiss him back, won’t chu’?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s fairly well kept. He cares about his looks! He doesn’t let anything get too out of hand, but he will make sure that it isn’t bare either. The bare skin freaks him out…

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Everything else seems nonexistent. His energy is so dominating and rough that your body just gives yourself to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He rarely masturbates, but there’s been a few times he has. Once, he sat in the corner of your bedroom at night when you didn’t even know he was there, stroking himself while you slept. He was watching you, whispering under his breath how good you’d look on your knees for him, even in those moments.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Possession. Fear. He loves that wide-eyed look you give him when you realize you’re too deep and there’s no way out. His biggest thrill is knowing you’re scared of what he’s capable of—and still, you stay. That’s real loyalty. Or maybe it’s just survival.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He will do it anywhere. He doesn’t care if his family walks in, he doesn’t care if he fucked you in front of a dead body. As long as he can have his hands on you? He does not care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Killing. That’s what drives him—what keeps the blood in his veins hot and his cock even harder. And when it’s over? When his hands are slick with blood, splattered up his arms, drying in streaks across his chest?

That’s when he finds you. He doesn’t even bother cleaning up. Doesn’t waste time with words. He drags you down to your knees, one blood-slicked hand tangled in your hair, the other fisting his cock already hard and throbbing.

This is his release. Your lips stretched around him, blood smearing against your cheeks where his fingers grip too tight. He killed for it. He earned it. And you? You take him down your throat like you know exactly what he’s done… and exactly why you’ll never tell him no.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There’s bold… and then there’s stupid.

And the stranger in the diner? He was both. Eyes raking over you like he didn’t care that Johnny was sitting right there, an arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as a silent warning. But that bastard had the nerve to ignore it—leaned right over the counter with that cocky grin and said, “Hey sweetheart, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sittin’ with a guy like him.”

Johnny didn’t say a word. Just smiled slow and easy like a loaded gun being cocked. Later that night, the man found out exactly what that smile meant.

He was tied to a chair in Johnny’s basement, wrists bound tight, chest heaving with panic. And right there—right in front of him—Johnny had you. Bent over the workbench, dress shoved up to your waist, panties torn clean off.

“You wanted a show, didn’t ya?” Johnny growled low against your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. “Wanted to see what it’s like to really have her? You’re gonna watch, ‘cause that’s the only way you’ll ever get close.”

And the next day? That man was gone. No questions asked. No trace left. Just a sick, twisted memory burned into your mind every time Johnny pulls you close…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

While he loves eating you out and watching you squirm beneath his tongue and feeling your thighs squeeze around his head, he enjoys getting blowjobs unshamfully more. He loves the way you would take all of him at once, and the feeling of your warm mouth all around his hard cock. He likes how your eyes teared up when placed his hand on the back of your head and slowly guiding you deeper and deeper onto his dick. The way your hair got messy while doing it made you seem like something out of the porn magazine he used to look at. Don’t even get him started on when you licked the underside of his dick while staring up at him with those pretty little eyes, he will make sure his tip kisses your cervic when he fucks you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This man loves it fast and rough. He just really fucking enjoys pounding into you more than anything. But, if you really impressed him and made him proud— like killing someone for the first time— his touch is as gentle as a butterfly. His lips slightly graze your skin as his rough fingers rubbed your clit in slow circles.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. He lives for way your tits looks in that milk maid dress, lives for the way you gasp and whine when his fingers go under your dress, lives for the sheer joy of how your fingers frantically grasp at his belt to fuck in the bathroom of his mothers place. God forbid if Nancy heard you too… You’d be out of the bathroom in the nick of time before Nancy notices anything.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Abso-fuckin’-lutely. He loves taking risks, it gets him going. He constantly almost gets caught killing people— he loves the thrill. Johnny will definitely take risks. The thought of being caught almost exhilarates him. Almost. But the idea of the man that tried to swipe you off your feet was the same man hearing Johnny slam his hips on your ass in bathroom? Oh~ He loves that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for a couple rounds until he finally gets tired out, and he can definitely last a while too. That’s actually very surprising because of how much he smokes. But the last round will always be him pumping him warm thick cum into your aching pussy. It gives him a strong sense of pride knowing you’re walking around with his cum in you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Collars. He would love to put a collar around your pretty lil’ neck. Some of the leather collars hes collected has engravements of ‘Johnnys’ Property’, and ‘Johnnys’ lil’ Slut’. He loved pulling the metal chain, forcing you to sit in his lap. Tugging on the chain he manipulated your body into bouncing on his cock, when you’d cum he’d tighten the collar to overstimulate you, of course. He loved when you bounched your ass onto his length as he tugged on the chain too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Your whole relationship is unfair, what did you expect? You don’t get to tease Johnny, if you somehow did… Sometimes he’ll go along with your teasing. He thought it was cute how you thought you were the one in control. You better hope you’ll be able to sit down due to the hand prints on your ass cheek later.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and growls echo in the shack. He loves dirty talking to you, “Like that? Like that you dirty whore? Who knew you’d be so… fuckin’— Mmh— slutty?” With how much he smokes his mental pain away, he huffs and pants more than he’d like, his lungs are slightly given out… it sounds really hot when he’s out of breath at least.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When you drink with him? Oh, he will make out with you. He loves the taste of your tongue when you’ve drunken his favorite alcohol. He loves the way you in your drunkened state sloppy grabs at his shirt and how your tongue rolls out only for him to lick yours back up. By the time y’all jaws are weak from making out you’ve both passed out on his couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is fat, around 5 1/2 inches and even though he isn't abnormally big, the way he's gets balls deep into you makes it feel like he's fucking huge, pushing against your cervix at all times. The girth though, fuck, it stretches out your pussy so much, it hurts every time but when the pain subsides? You’re gripping his hair as your calves rest on the back of his ass pushing his hips closer to yours.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is through the roof, by the time you were pulling your panties back up after a quickie his cock was already standing tall once again. The amount of times he’s grabbed your shoulders pushing you down to your knees to fix his raging boner has been… way too many times. “What can I say? It’s your fault. Won’t chu’ fix it for me, sugar?”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)