#johnny x reader

It had already been an interesting evening, beginning with the dinner invitation sans Lt. or Cap. Then the lingering hug as you welcomed him in at the apartment door and the brush of your lips near his own as you kissed his cheek in gratitude for the bouquet of flowers (favorites recommended from Johnny) and neat white paper box tied with string and full of what he'd gleaned all by himself was your favorite dessert.

Drinks in the living room, sultry jazz low on the stereo and your sweet laughter ringing in his ear as you perched what might be considered too close on the couch while Johnny regaled you with the latest Ghost mishap. The way you clasped Kyle's arm as if you needed something to hold you up lest you double over in a fit of giggles.

Now he had confirmation of what he'd suspected since the welcome hug. No bra. The soft chub in pants hardening to at least half as you settled into your own seat and he wondered if you'd left the panties off under your flowy skirt, too.

Bit of a trap, it was. Nothing overt. He'd definitely seen you in riskier outfits on nights out at the club with Johnny. Though he'd snagged his own one night stand each time, if the memories of the sway of your hips in a tight, too-short mini or bounce of your chest against barely there fabric helped him climax with his conquest for the night, who would be the wiser?

You apparently, he thought, as he wrapped his lips around another forkful of your masterful cooking in an effort to stall joining the dinner conversation. His voice would betray him, he was sure of it. And he hadn't yet gleaned if tonight was what he thought, hoped, it was.

There'd be a signal from Johnny, he was sure of it. A knowing nod or maybe even an overt offer. Anything to confirm his guess that he'd been invited this evening to put his prowess on display. Maybe, hopefully more.

Johnny's bird had always known about them. Johnny made that clear. He wouldn't lie about it to anyone, and anyone who had a problem with it, never lasted long. But it'd been months with this one, seemingly ever understanding if Johnny asked for a night away during what was already a short supply of off-mission time.

Johnny cleared the table while you led Kyle back into the living room for after-dinner drinks and maybe a bite of that delicious dessert he'd brought.

Your hand reaches back blindly, fingers brushing his stubbled jaw. "I am real," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "And I'm not going anywhere, baby."

His movements are unhurried but heavy, laden with a terrifying hunger. It is the desperation of a man who knows any day could be his last, clinging to his only sanctuary. Each time he pulls back, you feel the empty ache of his absence; when he pushes back in, the powerful stroke fills you so completely it steals your breath.

"Steamin' Jesus, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck, inhaling you as if you are the only clean air he has left. "Always so warm. So soft. My girl. You save me, darlin'."

Your hands are trapped beneath you, useless against the mattress. You can't touch him now. You can only lie there and take this heavy, possessive worship, a man desperately begging for his life through your body. The thought that you are his peace, his only shield against the demons of the field, makes you tremble.

His hand slides down, rough fingers trailing through the slick heat between your thighs before finding your clit. He simply presses down with constant pressure, anchoring you as his cock ruthlessly claims your depth.

"Johnny," you whine, your hips twitching back against him. "Oh fuck, Johnny…"

"Shh, now, darlin'," he soothes, his voice a low, coaxing purr, though his breath is ragged. "Easy. Just feel me. Feel how deep I am, how I'm fillin' you up. I love hearin' my name on your lips when I'm buried in ye. Makes me feel like I actually made it home."

The pace remains relentless. His cock drags heavily against your inner walls, the head of it kissing that sweet, sensitive spot with every deliberate, bruising thrust. You are a slick, hot mess, creating wet, squelching noises that echo in the quiet room, dirty sounds of friction that make your pulse race with a dizzying heat because you are so desperately grateful for his weight.

"You're shakin', hen," Johnny murmurs, his lips brushing your temple, his grip tightening until his knuckles are white. "Am I hurtin' you?"

You shake your head, choking on a sob. It isn't pain; it is the sheer, terrifying volume of him.

Everything narrows down to this exact, suffocating space. You are intensely aware of the rough calluses on his palm anchoring your clit, the heavy, sweat-slicked drag of his chest hair against your bare back, and the faint scent of the field still clinging to his skin. You are being completely consumed by a man who lives on the edge of a blade.

Every heavy slide of his cock feels like a countdown, a desperate imprint of his existence into your very bones. You are memorizing him, the exact thickness stretching you, the dry heat of his throat against your collarbone, the ragged catch in his chest. If he doesn't make it back next time, this is the weight you will have to carry. The thought is sharp, dirty, and devastatingly beautiful. It coils in your lower belly, pulling so tight it aches.

"Good," he rumbles, his hand pressing firmer, driving you ruthlessly over that cliff. "I want you sensitive for me. Let me make you come, darlin'. Just let go."

And you do. Your body arches back against him as the orgasm finally breaks, a violent, sobbing wave of ecstasy that clamps your pussy desperately around his length, trying to lock him inside you forever. You gasp his name, your head thrashing against the mattress. Johnny groans, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching violently as your tight, pulsing heat milks him, holding him captive until you are a whimpering mess beneath him.

"Tha's my girl," he whispers, his voice thick with raw possessiveness. "Always so perfect."

The sleepy haze is entirely gone, replaced by a desperate, aching need to hold him. "Johnny," you gasp, trying to turn. "Please, I need to see you."

With a low grunt, he helps you roll over, keeping his thick length buried deep within your wet heat. Now you are face to face, legs tangled, your hands finally free. You scramble to grab his broad shoulders, your fingers sinking into the hard muscle of his back, before tangling desperately in his mohawk, the proof that he is here, alive, and yours.

His eyes are dark, intense, and shining with tears in the dim morning light. "Fuck, I love it when ye look at me like that," he groans, his hips resuming that deep, rolling grind. "Like I'm your whole world."

"You are," you whisper, pulling his head down.

The kiss is wet, messy. Your tongues slide together in a panting, frantic rhythm. The new angle shifts everything, his cock pressing ruthlessly against a devastatingly sensitive spot deep inside you. Your moans are no longer muffled; they are loud, uninhibited cries of pleasure.

"Johnny, oh my god, Johnny... don't stop, please don't stop."

"Never stoppin', my heart," he rasps, resting his forehead against yours, his gaze locked onto yours with a fierce, burning love. "I want to fill you up so completely. Tell me you want me. Tell me you're mine."

"Yes," you sob, the word torn from your throat as you cling to his neck. "I'm yours. Fill me up, Johnny. Please."

"My beautiful girl," he chokes out, his thrusts turning harder, more purposeful, the bed creaking loudly in time with your bodies. "Gonna leave my love so deep inside you that you'll feel me with every breath you take today. You'll never forget who you belong to."

The dirty, intensely romantic promise throws you over the edge. Another orgasm crashes through you, a blinding wave. You cry out his name as your pussy tightly milks his thick length, your hands scrabbling for purchase on his sweat-slicked back, desperately memorizing the feel of his skin.

"Fuck, that's it, that's it," Johnny growls, his rhythm faltering as your body convulsively clamps down on him. "Come on my cock, sweetheart. Take it all."

He buries his face in your neck, his own groans vibrating against your skin as he lets go. You feel the hot, thick pulses of his release deep inside you, an intimate, searing heat that seems to go on forever. He fills you completely, his body tensing and shuddering with each powerful spurt.

Johnny doesn't pull out. He collapses on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You can feel his cum, a warm, sticky pool inside you, and the sheer, fleeting safety of this moment brings tears to your eyes. You hold him tighter, your arms locked around him as if you could physically keep him from ever leaving.

You run your fingers through the short, soft hair at the sides of his mohawk, tracing lazy circles on his back. He is still inside you, softening but lingering, a constant, comforting presence.

"Bad dream, huh?" you murmur after a long silence, your voice trembling slightly.

He lifts his head to look at you, the tough sergeant completely stripped away, leaving only a vulnerable, raw affection in his eyes.

"Aye, well. Woke up in a cold sweat, thought I'd lost you," he admits quietly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a rough thumb. "Had to make sure you were real. That I was still allowed to love you like this."

You pull him down for another slow, sweet kiss, tasting the salt of your own tears. "I'm real, Johnny," you whisper against his lips. "And I'm yours. Always."

He sighs, a sound of pure, melting relief, and settles back down with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. "Best fuckin' dream I ever had, then," he mumbles, his eyes already drifting shut.

You smile, stroking his hair, feeling his warmth leak slowly inside you.

Usually, the club isn’t this packed.

That’s the entire reason why you signed up for this job. It’s one of the lesser known clubs in town, still finding its footing after a few failed marketing attempts to gain public interest.

As the bartender, you normally are only dealing with five customers maximum on one shift. It’s easy to lean back and play games on your phone to pass the time, practically being paid just to lounge around and mix a shitty martini once in a while.

Unfortunately for you, the manager’s latest marketing attempt has flourished significantly. He’s brought in one of the hottest DJs to the club, sending out social media blasts like crazy to promote his appearance.

You’ve never met Johnny Suh in your life, but you already hate him for forcing you to complete actual work.

You’re darting back and forth at the bar, struggling to remember people’s orders as they crowd the space. You start getting complaints about you mixing the wrong drinks, but you reply with a heated glare and a snarky comment to tell them to find a different bar.

Johnny’s set starts in thirty minutes and the wolves are descending on you.

You scream at your manager when he comes by to check on you.

“I’m drowning here! Did you seriously think one bartender could manage this type of crowd?”

People are packed into the club like sardines, but your manager is beaming with pride, happy that he’s increased the business of this place. He’s not even deterred by your sour attitude.

“Don’t worry, they’ll become far more manageable once Johnny’s up there!” He tells you, having the audacity to wink at you like you’re also experiencing the best night of your life. “Just keep chugging along!”

You’re so overwhelmed that you start handing people full bottles of vodka and tequila and telling them to dole it out as they please. Thankfully, the audience starts to flock away from the bar once they realize Johnny is about to begin his set.

The lights dim when he takes center stage. The entire club cheers as he wrangles his headphones on, wearing a sleeveless white tank top, exposing the myriad of tattoos on his shoulders and arms.

You pause midway through mixing up a vodka cranberry, mesmerized by him.

You didn’t expect for the DJ to be… attractive.

“Hello?” The customer in front of you says, waving their hand in your face. “Are you finished with my drink?”

You narrow your eyes and thrust the half-mixed drink into his face.

“Here you go, asshole.”

He scoffs and wrenches the cup from you, disappearing back into the crowd. You have to put up with quite a few assholes throughout the duration of the night, but you happily curse them out with no filter. Your boss is too wrapped up in how well his plan worked out to worry about you, allowing you to handle the bar as you see fit.

When the night slowly dwindles to a close, you’re exhausted, wanting nothing but to curl up in bed and sleep forever. Your boss skips over to you as the last people filter out of the club. The place is a mess, and you have no idea how he’s going to hire anyone to clean this up by your next shift.

“You did great tonight!” He exclaims as he clearly hasn’t heard you telling multiple people to shove their drinks up their asses. “Here’s a little bonus for you. I know I should’ve prepared you better for tonight’s turnout, but we’ll work out all of the kinks. You should expect a lot more nights like this.”

Your eyes widen as you snatch the crumpled bills from his fingertips. “I thought you said this was a one time thing!”

He grins from ear to ear. “That’s what I assumed, but Johnny surprisingly took me up on my offer to DJ here for another week! We’re going to become the most successful club in the city!”

You’re infuriated. You’re blinded by rage over your boss’s inability to manage his own club properly and some misdirected anger towards Johnny for unknowingly bringing chaos into your once peaceful life.

When you see Johnny outside the club, loading up his equipment into his car, you can’t help but approach him and voice your thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised as you stand in front of him, huffing and puffing. He’s calm, cool, and collected, differing from you as you’re seconds away from setting fire to the city.

“Do I know you, doll?”

Your lips twist at the pet name. “I’m not your doll. And no, you don’t know me, which makes this whole situation worse. Why would you choose this club out of all places to DJ at?”

He leans against his trunk, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at you. He’s amused, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards.

“Because it’s relatively chill and lowkey. I need a place to hide for a while. The festivals are growing to be too much for me.”

“Boo hoo,” you grumble. “And did you ever think about how your decision would affect other people? Like let’s say, the poor bartender of this small club who has never served more than two people at once?”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’re complaining to me because you have to do your job?”

You glare at him. “Yes!”

He chuckles fondly at you. His eyes rake over your figure from top to bottom and you shift uncomfortably. You’re dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, your hair tangled and messy from your busy night. You’re not exactly the epitome of sex appeal right now.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, doll. But I’m happy that I’ll be seeing you for another week. I’ll tell the crowd to go easy on you.”

Your fury gradually evolves into abhorrence. You hate this good looking man. You hate that he thinks you find this humorous, that he can flirt with you and ruin your life because he’s a big shot DJ.

“Fuck you, Johnny.”

As you walk away, you hear him call out, “So you won’t even give me your name?”

“Well, after me and Marcus had some fun last night…” She paused, throwing a wink as her voice turned slurry. “He told me about the local tale of some slasher named Johnny.”

“Ooo.” Ash instigated to hype up the story.

“Basically, to summarize it all, it’s about a little boy named Johnny who fell to his death because of some “little prank.””

You grimaced at the way she said ‘little prank’ as if falling to your death because of a prank wasn’t a big deal.

“Why did they do that? What was the prank even about?” You asked, to which she let out an annoyed groan. “Do you have to ask some many questions, Y/n?”

You flinched at her yelling, eyes drifting to the ground.

“But I don’t know? Some loggers were pissed about the prices going up at the shop, and Johnny’s dad was the owner of them. They thought playing a prank on his son would make him lower the prices, but I guess it took a turn for the worse or whatever.”

The sound of kissing from beside you stopped, bringing your attention to the couple. “Oh, I’ve heard about this tale! The White Pines Slaughter! Apparently the loggers told Johnny there were toys in the old fire tower, and like the dumb little kid he was, he believed them. They tried to scare him with a fire mask and it worked a little too well because he fell and snapped his neck!”

“I bet it sounded like a KitKat bar!” Cassie joked.

The sound of the 3 girls laughing made you feel sick.

How cold do you have to be to joke about something like this.

“Guys, that’s not funny! That’s horrible! He was just a kid who wanted to play with toys,” you frowned.

“Oh my god, really Y/n? Really?” Sara judged. “Are you seriously feeling bad for some man who's been dead for 70 years!”

You didn’t answer, deciding to let them whisper about you.

“I forgot that miss goody-two-shoes was here. She’s such a party pooper!” Ash complained. “Yeah, we should’ve just left her at the dorms.” Her girlfriend added.

“Guys, guys, enough insulting Y/n, we can do it later. Here’s what we walked for.”

You ignored the last part of Sara’s sentence and looked up to see a rusty wooden axe lodged into the ground, a gold necklace dangling around the handle.

Your brows furrowed. “The axe?” A snicker from Sara was heard. “The necklace you idiot!”

You all stepped closer towards it, a breeze of the cool night air blowing through your hair.

“It’s a locket Johnny’s dad gave him. It was his mother’s.” Sara spoke with a smile. “And I’m gonna take it.”

She began reaching for it but you stopped her by grabbing her wrist. “Don’t.”

She snatched her hand from your hold with a disgusted look on her face. “Ew, don’t touch me! And I don’t wanna hear whatever reason you have to not let me take the necklace, I need it! I’m going to give it to Marcus’s mom when I meet her.”

She tried once more but you stepped in front of her. “Seriously Sara. Don't touch it!"

She looked shocked that you actually stopped her again, Cassie deciding to help her out. “Y/n, move!” She grunted as she pushed you, but you managed to keep your balance.

“If you don’t want to be here while I take it, fine, you can go. Walk home alone like the loner you are!” Sara yelled, her voice echoing around the trees. “Yeah, stop being such a pussy, Y/n.” Ash insulted.

When you didn’t fight back she continued her action, hand reaching out and finally grabbing the necklace. “Perfect,” she grinned while inspecting it.

“Well… since you got your necklace, me and Cassie are gonna go behind that big tree back there and get it on.” Ash cackled while wiggling her eyebrows up and down. “Babe, don’t tell them that! I don’t want them to know we're fucking!” Cassie cried out in embarrassment.

“Guys, I don’t care. Just hurry up so we can get back to the dorms. I do not want to get caught.”

The two giggled as they ran a couple of feet away, leaving you and Sara alone.

“Here, hold it.”

You opened your mouth to refuse but she was already throwing it your way. “Why do I have to hold it?”

“Because! What if it has a disease or something? I have people who actually care about me unlike you. Like my boyfriend, and…my boy—it doesn’t matter who! I’m just important, okay?”

She let out a breath after her very “convincing” rant, walking over to a random bush.

You opened the locket and was met with a small photo of a woman and little boy that must've been Johnny and his mom.

Cute.

Your attention was drawn away due to the sound of…chopping?

You looked around and saw Sara with the same confused look. “It sounds like it’s coming from the area Cassie and Ash are.” She whispered, tip toeing in that direction.

As you both rounded the corner of the tree, the sight almost made you throw up and Sara scream. “OH MY GOD, CASSIE! ASH!”

She began to cry, legs giving out and dropping to her knees as she cradled their heads. “This is all your fault!” She accused, standing up and walking towards you. “Those were my best friends!” she screamed the obvious.

It doesn’t take much to look at you 4 and see that all of them treat you terribly.

They degrade you, peer pressure you into doing things you don’t want to do, insult you, and expect you to keep being friends with them — and for some reason you do.

She continued to yell and call you names, missing the tall figure slowly walking behind her.

“S-Sara,—” you tried to warn, but her voice was over-powering yours.

Her hand rose to hit you but her head was quickly decapitated, the rest of her body dropping stiffly to the ground.

Your eyes were wide, chest rising and falling at an inhumane pace as you stared at the man.

You did the only right thing you could think of and dropped the locket before taking off.

The leaves beneath you crunched as you ran, the darkness making it hard to see.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you had to run in order to get away.

Due to the darkness, you didn't see the stick that you ended up tripping on, the thorns catching your jean pants.

You frantically tried to unpick each thorn from the clothing, but you weren’t fast enough.

A hook came slashing down, cutting the stick in one slice.

You let out a scream, eyes closing as you waited for the next unfortunate action, but it never came. Instead, heavy metal clanged and crunched the leaves as it fell, and so did Johnny as he got into a seated position.

“W-What do you want?” you somehow muttered.

He pulled out the locket, leaned over, and placed it around your neck.

You sniffled and looked down at the jewelry, slowly connecting the dots. He was giving you it, he was allowing you to have his mother’s necklace. But why?

Maybe it was because Johnny sees himself in you — the terrible friends, being treated poorly, being ignored, getting insulted. — You’re literally him but in a different time period.

You showed your appreciation with a small ‘thank you’ before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a red toy truck the girls made you buy while at a store. “H-Here, you can have it.”

You slid it over to him, the man-child instantly picking it up and beginning to play with it.

You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face seeing him finally having that joy with a toy. It was all he ever wanted.

You don’t know what you were going to do about Sara, Cassie, and Ash, or what explanation you would give about the locally known locket around your neck to everyone, but you’ll figure that out when the time comes.