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#dark!john
sammysmaddy · 6 months
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Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Masterlist
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Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.
Pairing(s): John x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader
Warning(s): This story contains dub-con, some noncon elements, drugged!reader, use of drugs (otherwise alcohol), incest, and lots and lots of manipulation. The reader in this story is a victim of all four, starting off with manipulation. Please do not read if any of the above makes you feel uncomfortable.
W/C: 35k+ split into nine different parts
A/N: I believe I started writing this story in 2020 and I've just finally finished it 😅 I'll probably post a part or two a week as it's fully finished and sitting in my drafts :)
Masterlist
Teaser
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
FINALE
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tenderlywicked · 6 months
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Got a comment on one of my Sherlock (or more exactly dark!John) fics on AO3 saying that it "goes beyond BDSM into cruelty". Dude, yes, that's why there are tags like "graphic depictions of violence" and "non-con". They exist for a reason! Moreover, the story isn't even tagged as "BDSM" because it's not about a "safe and sane" relationship. Why don't people read tags? *facepalm*
Even if it turns out in the end that both parties are very much into it and understand what's going to happen, I still decided to mark it as "non-consensual" because it's about a very risky dynamic, an arrangement that might seem freakish to an outsider. Something that would most likely go very, very wrong in real life—and still might go wrong in this AU too someday, but hopefully won't.
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John Sheppard is not a man you want to piss off Bob
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wedarkacademia · 1 year
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flamingpudding · 5 months
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*hisssss* My comfort human!
Nightwing stared, he turned his head staring at Zatanna in a way that clearly spelled the question: Are you seeing what I am seeing?
Zatanna only gave him a shrug with a smile before focusing back on the meeting, leaving Nightwing to turn back and stare. He wasn't the only hero in the room with that reaction. There were a couple others too that reacted similarly. Only Batman appeared to be able to hold his pokerface.
Right before them was Constantine trying to explain to them all how their goverment basically fucked them over, while a 'ghost' teen was clinging to the man's shoulders glaring and hissing at them all. Worst of all Constantine was acting like the kid wasn't even there. Like there was no a white haired, black and white dressed teen hugging the man around his shoulders while glaring at them with glowing Lazarus green eyes.
"Uhm John? What's with the kid?" Green Lantern finally asked interrupting another one of the magicans rants about how screwed they were to which the Brite only glared at the hero.
"Ignore him."
"But..."
"IGNORE him."
"Maybe we should remove the child from this meeting before we continue?" Superman offered good naturally and Constantine looked pretty much done with them all, Nightwing noted. The blond waved with his hand as if telling them to 'go on try it'.
The heroes exchanged glances. Before Superman moved forward reaching out to remove the teen....
...and promptly got bitten. Nightwings eyes widened as he noticed the teen actually broke kryptonian skin!
The teen then proceeded to hiss at them while clutching onto Constantine protectively. The magican only let out a suffering sigh and muttered something about never touching a core again.
"My comfort human! Get your own!"
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septemberkisses · 27 days
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hozier wrote 'too sweet' for the "i can fix him" sunshine girls who have always been too good too nice, for the people pleasers who are terrified of failure, and for those who find the darkness intriguing
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bi-writes · 1 month
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thinking about crushing on johnny and not realizing you needed permission to approach him. (18+, dark content)
you haven't seen him here before. he's new, and he's fucking beautiful, and you wish he would just look over here so you can find out what he looks like when he undresses you with those blue eyes.
he's hunched over a pint in the back, and he laughs with friends of his. when he smiles, you lean over, resting your chin in your hand when you admire his wide smile and nice teeth. he hasn't shaved today, but the five o'clock shadow suits his pretty face. you want to reach over and run your fingers over the curls of his dark hair that fall over his face. his hairstyle is a little grown out, but the sides have been kept short, with the longer pieces falling over the back of his neck and along his forehead effortless.
he probably rolled out of bed to come here, and he still looks good enough that you want to take pictures of him like this. you want to know what it feels like to kiss him. you want to cup those plump cheeks and kiss his soft mouth, and just hearing his laugh even from this far away, you know he's full of life and fun and--fuck.
you need to go over there before he leaves. before you regret it.
you slip off the barstool that you were seated at, brushing off the front of your jeans. you fix the straps of your bra, satisfied with the bounce of your tits on display, and when you look up again, he's looking at you.
those blue eyes are trained right on your figure, and you suck in a breath when you see his gaze drop, moving up, lingering on your hips and the way your cleavage looks in that shirt before settling back on your face.
he grins, right at you, wide and knowing, and you swallow hard when he winks. he picks up his drink and takes a long sip, and you're transfixed on watching him swallow and the bob of his adam's apple when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight--someone's behind me.
you jump a little when someone hums behind you. a voice you don't recognize, a stranger, but you can feel the warmth of them at your back, and it unnerves that they remain utterly silent for a few agonizing moments.
you see blue eyes watching, looking over your shoulder, and you think maybe he knows you're uncomfortable, that he'll do the gentlemanly thing and come to your rescue--please come help me--but instead he sees something, and something flashes in his eyes. he looks, suddenly, like a puppy being scolded, and there's a pout on his lips as he averts his gaze to his drink and turns his body just that much away from you.
"y'like johnny, luv?"
you turn sharply, stepping back, and you nearly trip into the chair at your side when you see what's behind you. a hulking, masked man, large and imposing, staring down at you with his eyes narrowed accusingly.
he's wide. broad shouldered and tall, and even though he wears layers that cover what you guess are solid muscle hardened by laborious work, he is not made any smaller. all you can see of him are his dark eyes, but even those are terrifying because there is nothing in them at all.
you wonder, for a moment, if maybe he's not real. you have to be seeing something made up. a phantom. some kind of ghost.
you steel yourself after the initial surprise, and then you frown. your voice is a little shaky, but you say with as much force as you can, "excuse me?"
the narrow of his eyes softens just a bit. he tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, and even though his eyes only flicker once, you know his gaze dropped. he takes a peek down your shirt, and you want to roll your eyes.
ghost or not, all men are the same.
"johnny." he nods his head behind you, and when you look back, the pretty one is looking at you, soft eyes shining as he stares at the pair at a distance to him. you notice his foot tapping on the floor, his leg shaking a bit. he's fidgety, nervous maybe, but you don't know why. you turn back around and face the big man again.
"do you know each other?" you ask, raising a brow. you don't know this man, either of them, but it strikes something sour in your mouth at the thought of some man trying to keep you from another--fucking strangers, playing hot potato with a woman? gross.
he snorts, and his shoulders shake a little, as if he laughs. "could say tha'," he murmurs, glaring right down at you, taking a step closer. you move your head back, feeling cornered, but you try not to panic. the bar is full of patrons, the music is lively--even someone as terrifying as this one wouldn't try anything with a room of witnesses, would he?
"look, i don't--"
"think he fancies you, too, sweetheart." his voice is so gravelly, deep, he's saying it with the low of his chest. and you can't tell if he sounds jealous or curious or excited, because he keeps his emotions in check, but at the thought of that pretty boy liking you, you keen. you turn your head again to look at him, catching his blue eyes again, and you smile. all glittery, all soft, and he smiles back, and you want to bounce on your feet.
your head turns back quick when you feel warm hands on your face. your giant has put a few of his fingers on your chin, and he turns your head back to face him, clicking his tongue.
"don't look at him, look at me," he mutters. you blink, not sure how to decipher his mood, and he steps even closer, leaning into your space. "johnny's mine."
your heart drops in your chest. you swallow hard, and you blink again, and you know your eyes are glossy from embarrassment and shame. of course this pretty man is taken--of course he is. it isn't fair, and it upsets you, but your lip trembles a little.
"fuck, i--" you gasp a little. "fuck, i-i'm sorry. i didn't..." you bite your lip. "i-i swear, i-i--"
"johnny's mine," he growls, and you tense when you feel the warmth of his breath through the mask, against your mouth. "and 'm not one to share. but johnny's been such a good boy..." your eyes flutter a little when his hand falls from your chin, smoothing over the soft skin of your neck as he grips you there gently. he clicks his tongue when you lean into him, almost instinctively. "'n you're a pretty prize. just how he likes 'em."
"huh?"
"all soft...such a nice arse," he sucks on his teeth, humming. "can see your tits so nice, luv. wanna see more of 'em."
your eyes widen, and he laughs, and it's insane and cruel, but your legs come together anyways, and you squeeze them there. you're wet. you know you are.
"he likes a sweet pussy, too, luv, got one of those?" he's closer now, growling into your ear, and you close your eyes.
"i-i...i--"
"fuck, haven't even gotten you home, and you're already so dumb," he mutters. he lets go of you, gripping you by the shoulders and turning you around. you stumble in your boots, swallowing, in a daze, and he urges you forward. "go on. sit next to johnny, sweetheart."
your legs move on autopilot, and you shuffle your way over to the table, and as you get closer, the chatter quiets just a little. johnny perks up a little when he sees you, and he moves over in the booth, giving you room, and you greet the table a little shyly before taking a seat. johnny is warm, too, radiating triumph. you smile wide, but just as you get comfortable, big hands grip your waist and lift you. you squeak as you're seated right on your giant's lap, your legs bracketing his big thigh as your back sits flush against his chest.
"got yourself a bird there, ghost?" one of them chuckles. he's stunning, all dark-skinned and wide smiles, and you know he must be their good friend because he doesn't question the way ghost has simply carried you there, sat you down with them, when supposedly he was already with someone else.
ghost hums, and you suck in a sharp breath when his hand wraps around your waist and tugs, forcing your ass right up against his middle. you put your hand over his, your fingers stroking the back of his hand. this isn't right, you know it isn't, but something feels good about it. you're normally worried about being too big to sit on anyone's lap, but he's a fucking bear, and you know he can take it.
you know he can take it.
"you like it, johnny? like what i brought you?" ghost asks, and he asks it like you're not there. you turn your head, and your eyes linger on the way ghost has his arm strewn along the edge of the booth behind him, around his shoulders. his gloved hand reaches up, and you swallow when you notice him playing with the ends of johnny's hair, the curls you know are soft, that would be nice to tug on. johnny smiles, and you see him up close now, and his lips are soft--and by the look on his face, he does like them sweet, and you know he eats pussy like they're last meals.
you know he does.
you hold in a soft sound when you feel a warm hand on your thigh, wrapping around the meat of it and squeezing.
"ohh, i like 'er, LT. like 'er a lot."
next part
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sammysmaddy · 4 months
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Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part Four
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Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.
Characters: John x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Sister!Reader, OFC!Shauna x Dean, OFC!Sophia x Reader
Warnings: incest, sistercest, daughtercest, girls kissing girls, angry!/drunk!john, needy!Dean, drugs, alcohol, angst, hair pulling (more like physical abuse), Daddy kink I guess, a bit of degradation, manipulation, crying, praise kink, oral
W/C: 5.9k+
A/N: Merry Christmas to my followers who celebrate! Happy Holidays to everyone and I hope to be posting more!
Normal Masterlist
Masterlist
With John recently deciding that Sam was old enough to go on larger hunts with him, that meant much more time with Dean. They were off again after John came home after a few hours because he had decided that he needed to make things right with Sam. 
John had finally realized that it wasn't his or Sam's fault that Sam got hurt, but John just reacted that way because he didn't like to see any of his children busted up. 
You, being stuck at home with Dean, had been eating a lot of pizza, drinking a lot of beer, and waking up in his arms every morning. Things seemed normal again, Dean acted like he hadn't done anything, and you spent many hours out of the day thinking about how to bring it up with him. 
What if he didn't bring it up because it was a one-time thing and he was drunk? What if he didn't have those kinds of feelings for you?  It hurt for you to think that way, but you needed to be prepared in case he didn't see you the same way that you saw him. 
Plus, maybe he didn't even know what you were capable of. Maybe he didn't know that you had done sexual things before and that you weren't innocent. 
It was a Friday night in a random city in Wisconsin, your family seemed to go there a lot for hunts, and it was disgustingly cold outside. Still, it was your idea when you said you wanted to go to a party. 
You weren't exactly a people person and Dean was the only one who would entertain the idea of going out and being social, so you knew when John and Sam left earlier this week that this would be your opportunity. 
This time though, you came prepared. You planned on making your own drinks, staying away from trouble, and focusing on having a good time. 
Though the last party was fun because you talked about random books and old movies that would bore any regular human, things went downhill before you even knew it. This time, you were determined to do it right.
Things were already turning out much better, with no Jordan's anywhere to be seen. The party was much less dark and colorful than the last because people seemed to be more focused on being able to talk rather than dance. This party setting made you feel much more comfortable. 
Maybe it had to do with the fact that there were more clouds of marijuana than red solo cups filled with vodka, but it didn't matter- you were happy. The only bad thing about the atmosphere was the smell itself, John nor your brothers had ever shown an interest in it so it was a little bit offensive to your palette. 
It was good to get a change of pace. The music wasn't playing so loud that you had to yell in order to have a conversation, you didn't get weird looks every time you brushed past someone, and above all, everyone seemed to be happy. Except Dean. 
Dean hardly left your side, still causally flirting with any woman in close proximity, but he wouldn't leave you alone for more than two minutes at a time. 
The women were different here, more sophisticated and graceful, and while Dean tried his best, he just couldn't connect with them like usual. You wondered if Dean was scared that he was losing his spark, the idea delightfully playing around in your mind, but Dean kept trying- one girl after another after another. 
It was a delicacy to watch, having to see Dean try so hard when really people here only seemed to be attracted by intelligence. He had never had to try hard at anything in his life, school- he didn't care about, hunting- naturally talented, girls- easy, it was strangely satisfying. 
For someone with such a strong God complex, Dean should be having dazed girls lined down the hall just to hear him talk about himself. You almost felt guilty watching Dean struggle so hard. Half of the time he couldn't keep up with the random philosophical conversations anyway, but it was fun watching him bullshit his way through before ultimately becoming disinterested. 
That's why when Shauna, a beautiful curly-haired brunette, came around and offered Dean some attention, you finally felt him peel away from your side. You saw the light in his eyes that had been dimming throughout the night brighten, and you slowly faded into the background as he worked his magic. 
Now, it was time to focus on yourself. You smiled at people who smiled at you as you made your way to the kitchen, making yourself a drink to keep the happy buzz coursing through your veins. 
The red solo cup in your hand felt whole again, filled to the brim with very diluted alcohol so that you could keep your cool, and things seemed to be turning out great for both you and Dean. 
Although you still had to go out and talk to people- something you're not extremely experienced with, you were excited to. 
You had met a handful of people in your life, most, if not all, were disposable and never seen again, but you never really had any true friends. Sam was your best friend, of course, but you knew it wasn't really the same. 
You didn't even really know where to begin. Some people seemed too entranced by their partners, some smiled down at their phones, and some just had resting bitch face on full display. 
It began to feel a little lonely, your eyes occasionally glancing at Dean across the room, but you tried your best just to enjoy the time out of the motel. And even though you were alone in your head, you were most certainly not truly alone. 
You were content, happy to see other people being happy regardless of whether or not it was with you. This was what life was like without constant intrusion from your family and it granted you a sort of freedom, a freedom you hadn't realized you craved until tonight. 
When you and Sam were young, you would often dream of a life out of a motel. With Mary dying on your six-month birthday and John going insane trying to avenge her death, the only thing you and Sam had, apart from Dean, was imagination. 
You used to dream of one day growing old and staying best friends with Sam until you died, moving to Hawaii or back 'home' to Kansas, or maybe even getting a real job someday. 
The both of you understood that it didn't exactly sound glamorous, like becoming famous or having tons of money, but anything beat the Hunter's life. It was a dead-end road, full of misery and hatred for every living thing on Earth, and a part of you thanked John for keeping you away from it as much as possible.
But you couldn't help but feel stuck. What else to life was there other than living in motels and killing bad guys? You wouldn't know, much less ever get the chance to figure it out. 
But, you were far from unhappy. You were surrounded by people you loved and while times would get rough, John would get drunk, the credit cards would fail at the restaurants, or one of the boys would come home wounded, you all made it work. 
You had an unbreakable bond with Sam, a wild side that Dean helped to bring out, and an undying loyalty for family because of John. Things could always be much worse than they are. 
"You know, for someone watching your boyfriend with another girl, you don't seem to be too upset," A random voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your head turned to look at the girl standing next to you, she reached out her hand to greet you, "Sophia."
"Y/N," You greeted back, shaking her soft but firm hand. 
It took you a little longer to respond, she had beautiful feminine features but she was assertive and reminded you of John. You almost felt bad for trying to read her like a book, there was such a strange energy that surrounded her. 
"A fan of voyeurism, are we?" Sophia chuckled, giving you a small smirk, and your eyebrows raised.
"Of what?" You asked and she laughed a little louder. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that is." You laughed lightly, trying to understand the strange word, and she gave you a teeth-filled smile.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. That is your boyfriend, right?" She asked with her eyebrow raised, a concerned, but cocky, look on her face.
"No, he's not my boyfriend," You blushed at the question and she gave you a small smile.
"Well, you seem to like him a lot. Maybe you should just ask him out sometime." She encouraged, nudging you with her elbow lightly. 
"It's really not like that," You laughed awkwardly and she raised her eyebrows up and down to say that she wasn't a firm believer in your statement. 
"Right, it's not like you're practically eye-fucking him while he talks to my girlfriend Shauna." She scoffed and you tilted your head. 
You were just happy that Dean was happy, no eye-fucking involved. 
"She's your friend? She's really pretty," You told her and she shook her head.
"Girlfriend. Open relationship, I kind of figured that's how you guys were too. I mean, he's barely left your side the entire night." She corrected, pointing out why she had her assumptions. 
You frowned, are you supposed to be upset that Dean's with another girl? Are you supposed to be feeling jealous that it's not you? 
"Are you ever jealous?" You asked out of curiosity, the idea of an 'open relationship' new to your mind. 
It was strange at first glance, but the more thought that was put in, the more it was intriguing. Not that you had an official partner in the first place. 
"Not really. She picks out the scumbags, no offense, fucks them, and then comes home to tell me all about it," She tells you honestly, a smile plastered on her face. 
She reminds you of Sam, he always loved hearing about the aftermath of your night out with John. 
"Plus, she's usually unsatisfied and girls do it much better." She added in a whisper, a smooth wink following behind. 
"I'm sure they do," You replied, fighting back a blush that you quickly deduced and blamed on alcohol. 
"You ever been with a girl, Y/N?" Sophia asked, licking her lips as the question concluded and you found yourself staring. 
"No, um, I've never really thought about it," You said, almost stuttering your way through. 
Surely the alcohol had to do with the way you were feeling, but all-in-all, she was attractive and there was no denying it. You'd seen girl-on-girl porn, almost a preferable choice because they always seemed to enjoy themselves a little bit more, but it wasn't ever something that crossed your mind. 
Now, there was an undeniably hot girl in front of you talking about sexuality, it was all a little confusing. 
"I'm not a psychic, but something tells me you're curious," She smirked, and your mouth opened to reply but nothing came out. 
Sophia's hands landed on the collar of your jacket, straightening it, which made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 
"Relax, I'm not gonna bite unless you want me to," She chuckled and you began to realize that your knuckles were turning white from holding your hands together so tightly.
You didn't know whether you wanted Dean to look over at you when she planted her mouth on yours or not. Her lips were much softer and fuller than either John's or Sam's and she tasted much sweeter too, it was a nice change of pace. 
She was much more pushy than what you were used to, guiding the pace and expecting you to match, and it wasn't long until the thoughts started to flood your mind. 
Would Dean look over and notice? Would he be upset? Would he be excited? Would he even care? You wanted him to. 
If you were supposed to be jealous that he was with another girl, you wanted him to be jealous that you were too. 
Sophia's chin was smooth with no traces of stubble like you normally felt. Her hands were soft as they cupped your cheek, her teeth nibbled at your bottom lip in the softest way possible, and her smell- God, she smelt so good. 
It was much different than the 3-in-1 body wash that the boys used because she smelt like she actually took care of herself. She smelled of flowers, but not like the old-lady type of perfume, she smelled soft and delicate and that was the only thing you could think of. 
Sophia's fingernails lightly scraped against your cheeks when they made their way into your hair, and when you gasped she smiled into your mouth. It was evident that she knew what she was doing and you didn't think twice about letting her... whatever it led up to. 
Maybe it was the thrill of being seen by Dean or the fact that it was new and exciting. Feeling soft and delicate fingers roaming through your hair was something you could get used to. Or maybe it was the alcohol, you weren't exactly sober- but you were still in the right mind to make good decisions, even if you were more inclined to try new things. 
You had never been with a girl, you had never even really had friends that were girls. You weren't sure if you wanted to be her, envied that she had such confidence and charisma, or if you were actually attracted to her. She was beautiful and if you really took the time to think about it- the wetness growing in between your legs answered your question. 
It wasn't long before you got lost in her trance, the quiet music almost seemed silent as you could only hear her lips moving with yours. The lights seemed to dim as your eyes stayed closed because all you did was focus on her. 
Then, everything was moving so fast, one second you were in the middle of someone's living room and then you were pressed against the wall in the hallway. Your head was spinning and your neck craned upwards to kiss the lips attacking yours and when you heard him growl into your mouth, that's when you knew he had been watching for quite some time.
Dean had his hands lightly wrapped around the sides of your neck, pulling you closer to him but still pinning you against the wall with his body. Your hands gripped onto his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible, and the thoughts of Sophia quickly faded into nothing. 
Dean was hungry for you, moving his lips as if he were attempting to tear them off, kissing all over your neck and not caring about whether he left marks, pushing into your body so hard that you could barely breathe.
His tongue was all over the place, your cheeks, your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your chest, and you wanted to feel it everywhere. His teeth nipped anywhere his lips went, leaving you a whimpering mess as you let him do whatever he pleased.
When Dean's lips reconnected with yours, you could taste the whiskey in his breath and smell the cologne he had doused himself in before you left the motel. Kissing him made you feel even more tipsy than before. He was more needy than Sam ever was, more attentive than John, and he seemed to be a perfect combination of all of their best qualities. 
"This is wrong," Dean whispered into your mouth, but before you could question why he was all over you again. 
Dean's hands trailed down your body as yours found their place in his hair, gripping lightly and pulling him in closer as he moaned into your mouth. There were practically no breaks in between each kiss, leaving the both of you panting, but neither of you seemed to care. 
Dean took a step back, gripping tightly onto your waist as he pulled you closer to him and you could no longer feel the warm wall against your back. 
He hadn't said any other words to you, but his actions were more than enough to tell you what he really wanted. You knew that Dean was bold, but you figured that there would be some sort of build-up for the two of you. Maybe some innocent flirting that would progress into sexual innuendos directed at one another, maybe some touching brushed off as accidental, that's what he always did with his hook-ups. 
With you it was different, he skipped all of the formalities and went straight into the good part, and you didn't mind whatsoever.
But, as the touching progressed into squeezing and digging his fingers into your skin, your mind wandered to other places. Why did he say it was wrong? Were you not good enough for him? He was all over you, that couldn't be true. Was he drunk? Was that the reason that kissing you was wrong? 
Maybe he meant that you were wrong for each other, John always said that this stuff shouldn't happen with anyone else. He always said that nobody could ever love you enough to touch you the way that he did. But you loved Dean and you knew that he loved you, why was he not good enough? Why was it wrong?
You hadn't even noticed someone was talking to the both of you until he pulled his lips back to mutter an answer, "I'm busy, man. Get out of here." Dean said aloud and before you had the chance to look over, his lips were on yours again and his body was pressed against you. 
"Dean, what the hell are you doing? Are you even listening?" That you heard. 
This time, the voice was easily recognizable, it was Sammy. Your cheeks flushed red when Dean pulled back, his eyes were wide and filled with dread to which you furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, asking yourself why. 
"Sam, look, I- It's not what it looks like," Dean struggled to get out, letting his hands loosen around your waist and raise in the air in defense. 
It was easy to tell that Dean had no idea that Sam wouldn't mind and that he was most likely trying to come up with a viable explanation for kissing you. You backed up a little, giving Sam a small smile when he looked at you, indicating that you were right about Dean.
"Dude, I'm not- um, it's just that Dad's outside and he's threatening to call the cops and we got to go," Sam replied hastily.
You smiled to yourself, knowing that Sam was most likely fighting his own arousal, but then you frowned at the thought of John. Outside. Waiting. Knowing that you were here. A party. With drugs and alcohol. 
John was not going to be very happy with you and you felt your face growing pale with anxiety. 
"Let's go, Y/N," Dean said gruffly, grabbing your arm tightly and dragging you through the small crowd. 
You fought Dean's grip a little, dreading the thought of John being upset with you, but you let him lead you toward the front. Your head was still spinning, trying to understand how you were watching Dean with Shauna, having a conversation with Sophia, which led up to making out with her. Then you were pressed against the wall by your big brother, and now your twin was leading you outside to see your, most likely, very angry father. 
When the cold, crisp air nearly froze your lungs as you stepped outside, you saw John waiting for the three of you. John was pissed, he was clenching his fists as he advanced towards all of you. 
You expected him to grab you by the hair, drag you to the car, and not even let you explain yourself, but he went straight for Dean. 
"What the hell were you thinking, son?!" John practically screamed, grabbing fistfuls of Dean's leather jacket. 
"Dad, I-I go to parties all of the time, I don't understand," Dean gulped so hard that you could see his Adam's apple gliding up and down his throat. He was nervous, stuttering, and grabbing onto John's wrists to stop him from doing anything more than grabbing his jacket. 
"Not with Y/N. Do you understand me?" John growled, letting go of the jacket and roughly pushing Dean back. 
Dean stumbled, barely keeping himself standing, and you could see Dean's eyes that were filled with fear. The same expression appeared on your face when John turned his body in your direction. 
"Get in the truck, I need to talk to you," John demanded, pointing his shaking finger toward you. 
You gulped, much like Dean, and nodded your head, deciding that there was no point in protesting. 
"Sammy, drive Dean home. No but's, Dean. Obviously, you aren't capable of good decisions, why should I let you drive my car?" John said and you turned around so quickly that you didn't have time to wait around to watch Dean's reaction.
Your feet scrambled towards the truck. When you began to climb in, you turned to close the door but John slammed it behind you, making you jump in your seat. Your eyes found the phone that was lit up on the middle seat, showing your exact location and you knew that was definitely how he found you. 
Then you saw the empty bottle of whiskey and you knew it wasn't Sam's, John was drunk... again, which wasn't surprising. 
You decided to look straight ahead and try your best to avoid his gaze, but you knew that something needed to be said to de-escalate your father.
"Daddy, I-" You began before being cut off immediately.
"Shut it. How long have you been partying?" John's voice boomed through the cab of the car. 
You shook your head, tears freely falling down your cheeks. You hated when he was angry with you, it was the worst feeling in the world. 
"I'm sorry. I convinced Dean to take me with him," You told him in a choked sob, scared of how he might react. 
John furrowed his eyebrows, reaching over and gripping your chin tightly in between his fingers, the new pressure causing you to wince. 
"Did you smoke tonight? You smell like you did," He asked through grit teeth and your head shook side to side as best as it could. "Did you drink?" He questioned again and you nodded your head cautiously. 
You couldn't lie to him, your head was spinning. 
"Are you fucking stupid, Y/N? Where was Dean?" John growled, letting go of your chin and your head felt weak. 
"He was- He was with me the entire time," You struggled to get out yet again, and his jaw tensed. Your eyes traveled to his jaw, looking back up into eyes that were nearly black.
"You're lying to me. I don't like liars, Y/N," He said callously and you shook your head in defiance, he was with you for the most part- that isn't lying. 
"Daddy, I'm not lying, I swear," You cried, feeling his hand in your hair as it lifted your chin toward the ceiling. His rough, calloused fingers traced over your neck, an unappreciative grunt leaving his throat.
"Who did this to you?" He growled, pinching the skin at your neck and you could feel yourself panicking. 
You couldn't tell him it was Dean, he would literally kill your older brother if he knew. 
"Answer me." He demanded, pinching harder and making you whimper in pain. 
"A- A girl. It was a girl," You told him, the only person you could think of being Sophia. 
Your eyes stayed focused on the ceiling as you felt his grip on your hair loosen, eyebrows creasing as you heard him chuckle deeply. It was the most terrifying laugh you had ever heard.
"A girl?" John asked, his breath hitting right behind your ear as he moved closer to you. 
The whiskey in his breath was prominent, but it was so normal that it almost felt refreshing. You whimpered when he tugged on your hair again, resting his left hand on your thigh. 
"When will you realize that you're mine, hm?" His intense growl made your breath hitch, sending shivers down your spine. "Nobody can touch you, do you understand me? I'm the only one who loves you enough, baby." He said in a softer tone, using the hand resting on your thigh to pull your legs apart from one another. 
"I know," You croaked, feeling the way his fingers were rubbing circles on top of your jeans.
John's hand trailed higher, gripping tightly onto your inner thigh, "Did she touch you there, princess?" He whispered, stopping just before your heat and you felt the wetness growing in between your legs. 
"No, Daddy," You answered solidly and he chuckled deeply into your ear. His hand lingered there and you moved around a bit to feel something.
"But you kissed her?" He asked, hand gripping tightly onto your thigh, and you nodded your head. "Did you want her to touch you there?" He asked, almost teasingly as his fingers magically inched up higher. 
"Yes, I did. I'm sorry," You told him, sudden guilt filling your stomach. 
You knew that he was the only one who loved you enough. You weren't supposed to do those kinds of things with people you didn't love. But Dean did it all the time. What made you different? Maybe he just didn't want you to- maybe this was just as wrong as kissing Dean. 
"It's okay, baby, but it can't happen again. You promise?" John asked, pressing a sloppy kiss into your neck. 
"I promise," You told him.
"What's wrong?" John asked, and at this point, you were squirming around in your seat. "Want me to touch you, hm?" He questioned again, ghosting his fingers above your heat through your jeans. Y
ou nodded your head, despite the tight hold he had on your hair. 
"Too bad. Bad girls don't get rewarded." John teased you, chuckling lowly as his hand left your thigh. 
You let out a whimper, needing now more than ever to be touched. 
"But, maybe you can make it up to me." He said, placing his lips just below your ear and nipping at the skin. 
You nodded your head, ready to do anything for him if it meant that you could get off tonight. 
"You know what to do, don't you, baby girl?" He asked, letting go of your hair and his hands came down and thumbed his jeans open. 
You gave him a small smile, letting your tears die down and dry on your cheeks, and turned towards him. He shifted his body so that his back was placed against the car door, pushing his jeans completely off, and placing one foot on the floor while the other stayed on the seat. 
Normally, this would happen in the back seat, but John seemed a little too eager tonight. You took your position, lying flat on your stomach, and propping yourself on your elbows as you looked up at him through your lashes. He swiped the hair out of your face, giving you a smile, and your fingernails dipped into the waistband of his boxers.
"Wait, baby," John stopped you, holding onto your hands that were about to pull down his boxers. "I wanna try something new, is that okay?" He asks and your brows furrowed, what haven't you learned by now? 
John shifted so that he was lying flat and you were sitting on top of him, not sure exactly what to do. 
"I want you to suck my cock while I eat you out." He said, pushing the jacket off of your shoulders. 
You wiggled it off, leaving your shirt on like he did, and his fingers came up and undid your jeans' button. 
"Daddy, I thought you said-" You began to say, feeling the guilt weighing in from doing something that he disapproved of.
"I know, baby, but you know I can't stay mad at you for very long," He cut you off, shh-ing you by pulling you by your neck and bringing you into a deep and passionate kiss. 
Your hips slid down his abdomen, your heat rubbing against his hard-on, making him moan into your mouth. His tongue explored and his teeth bit your bottom lip, extracting a moan of your own. 
As much as you loved kissing Dean tonight, or Sammy in the showers you took, John knew everything that you liked. He knew exactly how to get you going. 
"Daddy, I can't wait, I need you," You told him, desperately trying to get your release, edging yourself closer and closer as you rubbed against his erection. "I want to please you too." You compromised, knowing that he probably couldn't wait much longer either. 
"Alright, Y/N, take your clothes off," He broke the kiss, pulling at the hem of your T-shirt. 
You continued to sit on top of him, pulling your shirt over the top of your head and discarding it on the ground. A small moan left your lips when his hands came up to cup your breasts through your bra, kneading and massaging the delicate skin. 
John's hands reached around, undoing the clasp of your simple bra and guiding the fabric down your shoulders until it was on the ground. You dipped your head down to kiss him again, relishing the way your hard nipples feel against his chest, and using your hips to grind against him again. 
After a few, all too short, seconds you pulled up, working on getting your jeans off. John sat up, giving you space to do so, and discarded his own shirt, lying back down as you met him with your lips again. 
His hands roamed all over your backside, squeezing your ass and rutting his hips into you which made you gasp. He was fully hard and you could tell without having to look, he was just as desperate as you were to feel something. 
His hands slid down your waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake, pulling your panties down your thighs. He moaned into your mouth, presumably feeling your excitement, and helped you get your clothes off entirely. 
Then, he reached down and shimmied off his own boxers, continuing to kiss you as you felt his hardened cock against your core- wishing that he would give up his stupid wish of making it perfect and fuck you already, but you'll take what you can get. 
"Baby, turn around and let me taste you," John moaned into your mouth and you gave him one last peck before lifting up. 
If it were any other day, you would sit on his face as he gripped your hips, but he specifically said that he wanted his dick sucked while he ate you out- and only one position made sense. You situated yourself, both knees on either side of his head and your mouth just above his cock. 
You squealed when you felt his large hands pull you by your hips and guide you down to his face, the immediate lick on your clit almost enough to make you cum. You moaned as he began to attack you with his mouth and you took him in your hand, pumping him and rubbing your thumb over the precum that had already leaked out. 
John hummed into your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking and nibbling at the nub that had been calling his name all night. 
You lowered your mouth, almost unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was giving you, and you wrapped your lips around the glistening tip of his cock. This made him moan more into your core, encouraging you to keep doing what you're doing, so you did. 
You swallowed him down as much as you could, your lips like a vacuum as you pulled up and felt him leave your mouth with a loud 'pop'. 
It was almost a tradition to start out that way, taking him once entirely before sucking him down over and over until you couldn't breathe anymore. You were close to gagging, so close to almost fitting him all the way in, as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. 
John was dipping his tongue inside of you, going back and forth between that and sucking your clit, occasionally making obscene noises as he kitten-licked your sweet spot over and over. 
"Fuck, Y/N, you taste so good," He muttered into you, almost inaudibly, before he dove into your heat again. The praise made you want to cum all over his tongue and paint him with your juices, but even more so- it made you want to please him. 
He was using his hands to spread you apart, licking the very depth of you and coercing the familiar pit in your stomach to grow. You continued to swallow him down, warm and wet sloshing noises filling up the cabin of the truck. 
You could feel him twitch in your mouth, indicating that he was getting close. At the same time, his hands were pulling you closer to his face, making you wonder how the hell he was breathing. It felt like a race to see who came first. 
At first, his hips slowly raised so that he filled your mouth perfectly, then, he started to go faster, fucking into your mouth as he held you down. Your lips stayed sealed around him, feeling the way he hit the back of your throat and threatened to make you gag around him.
You then gathered the courage to hold him down like he was holding you. His hips stayed glued to the seat as you held him down with your hands, sucking him down with more purpose than ever before. 
His tongue was working wonders on your clit, kissing, nibbling, and sucking, and the vibrations from his groans were making your orgasm much closer. He twitched in your mouth again and you didn't dare to go up for air, you were determined to win the race. 
Your hand worked whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth, your tongue focusing on the tip which made him cry into your heat. 
Soon enough, he was cumming white, hot, and salty into your mouth, pleasing you so much that you came on his tongue as you ground on his mouth. Your hips were stuttering and you were practically screaming around him, feeling as your legs shook around his head. You swallowed him down, collecting all of your gift, as he continued to attack your soaking slit.
After a few minutes, you were both completely out of breath, fully dressed in the front seat, and having your after-pleasure-make-out-session. You could taste yourself on his tongue and he could taste himself on yours. Everything was perfect. 
Maybe you should get in trouble more often. 
"Do you really think you're ready?" John asked breathlessly, pulling back from your lips and giving you a small smile. 
"I've been ready for a long time, Daddy," You gave him a smile in return, your cheeks blushing harder at the thought of finally going all the way.
•••
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ew-selfish-art · 9 months
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Dp x Dc AU: It’s not the usual suspects trying to summon the undead this time, and it’s proving to be a massive headache for John Constantine. They seem...Competent. 
When John sniffed out a new plot to summon a ghost, he kind of laughed it off. Ghosts were not more than shades of the people/creatures they used to be, without all the right resources and enough buy in from the greater spirits of the Infinite Realms, most entities that came thought might scare some kids at a slumber party but that was at most. Plus, kids were scary resilient these days thanks to the internet, so really, John’s not worried. 
Then he hears about the gathering of artifacts and he has to care a little more. He learns that one Jasmine Fenton is involved and he’s... Surprised. She’s got a public record of dismissing her parent’s inventions and causing stirs at supernatural conventions (not to mention a great reputation as a research focused psychologist). Jasmine’s credit cards report a great deal of cash (refunded to her account by an unknown off-shore account) being taken out and her location is right next to the last place anyone could find a shard of the Crown. 
Yeah, that Crown. The Infinite, ancient blessed and deity cursed one. John had meant to get around to investigating if the shard of obsidian (fire forged) was legit, so he begins to set his sights on Jasmine for a ‘chat’. 
Then Sam Manson, a scary ass Heiress, pulls up in a limousine and all but kidnaps him and dumps him outside city limits. She tells him that he’s been cursed for the next 48 hours to stay out of their city- If he comes close, any plant will identify him in a heartbeat and come to life to kill him. (Fun fact: there are a goddamn lot of plants surrounding this stupid town, even the dandelions are forging knives to kill him.)
THEN worse, Red Robin gets on his ass about cybersecurity of all things. Turns out another player, identified by the moniker TooFineTooFurious has been tracking John’s phone and has been rummaging around official JLD documents- How was John supposed to know that keeping his passwords on the notes app could be hackable? Red Robin declares him incompetent and John can only sigh, crush his phone and move on. 
That all leads him to the summoning portal in front of him in this weird ghost themed high school gymnasium. It’s far too competent. It gives him goosebumps even before he can read out that they’re summoning the King of the Infinite Realms himself. John clicks the panic alarm on his JL communicator before engaging with the Trio before him. 
They’re not wearing any capes, no candles are lit, but this is the scariest cult he’s ever seen. Jasmine Fenton, ghost denier, Sam Manson, Heiress and Plant Witch (?), Some other dude with a beret and fucking DRONES (he considers this might be the man who hacked him). John pleads with them, they don’t know what they’re trying to do. Pariah Dark will kill them all, eat their entire planet for breakfast!! Everyone rolls their eyerolls at him, and he’s taken aback by their nonchalance. 
Plant guards grab him and a drone has a laser sight on his forehead. He fights but is subdued- They’re almost done chanting when Superman, Green Lantern, Red Robin and Cyborg all appear. Despite their disruption- the chanting ends with the green illumination of the circle. Despair fills the air. 
And then- Poof- a groaning young man appears. 
“Dudes you have no idea how unhelpful the Infi-map is sometimes. I was lost for like weeks and CW was being such a bitch ab- What. Wait, who are all- Holy shit did you guys summon the Justice League?” The Ghost King in full Regalia stared back at them in questioning concern. The three summoners start bitching  at the monarch and John... isn’t sure if this is going to be an interdimensional incident yet. 
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radiance1 · 9 months
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The Ghost Prince does not, under any circumstances, answer a summoning after it was made aware he existed. None know why he doesn't, some are bitter and hateful of it while others are thankful that it's one less bloodthirsty manic to deal with.
The Ghost King meanwhile hasn't been seen in multiple eons, so the magical community who wanted to use his power just, stopped, trying to summon him for a long time.
Most magic users knew that the Ghost Prince never answered a summons, and that the Ghost King just dropped off the radar.
So could you really blame Constantine for not taking it that seriously when some wannabe hotshot cultists try to summon both of them in the middle of a city to wreak havoc?
He'll give them some credit though. Points for doing it in broad daylight and actually being somewhat of a threat with not relying on just summoning the Ghost royalty and figuring out what to do from there.
The area they were in was somewhat destroyed, then the cultists manage to complete the summoning circle to summon both of them and Constantine, well he just light up a smoke.
It isn't going to work anyways so what does it matter?
...
Is that a fucking Ice cream truck he hears? Who the fuck is driving an Ice cream truck while their city is being under attacked with cultists trying to summon eldritch ghost royalty?
He'll give them some points for dedication, though.
Then he looked at the cultists and nearly had a goddamn heart attack to see that the summoning circle is actually fucking lighting up and working.
The Bat is so gonna give him a headache over this.
----
Danny Phantom, crown prince of the Infinite Realms. Does not answer summons.
For one, it is annoying as shit, whenever someone interrupts his day just to ask for infinite power (that he can't give), world domination (that he won't do) or infinite riches (which he also can't do).
It just got annoying being summoned all the time so. One day he just, well, no. And hey, it worked out well enough for him to not continue doing it.
Then he also learned that Pariah Dark is basically the same, after he got out the coffin and stopped trying to take over the world for whatever reason. He was actually a pretty swell guy!
He was just with him too, with him being not so swell at the time for making him go through lessons about Ghost etiquette, rules, stuff that's expected of him as the crown prince.
And don't even get him started on the engagement and marriage proposals.
Overall, he just wanted to find an excuse to leave. Then he felt the familiar suggestive pull of a summoning and, instead of rejection as he usually does in a second. He thought for a bit if he wanted to go with that or crown prince duties.
It was tempting, but dealing with cultists seemed worse than this so he was about to reject.
At least, before he heard an Ice cream truck playing in the background. He doesn't even know how the hell that popped up through the pull but by the gods has it been a while since he's had Ice cream.
So he answers and is gone with a pop.
Pariah Dark just stares for a good second or two, before breathing out and deciding to also answer. Fright Knight is just there, off to side, questioning what he should do now.
Danny wastes no time with the cultists on the other side and in fact, he pushes them out of the way and goes diving for that Ice cream truck he hears. Only to realize he doesn't, have any money on him.
Fuck.
Pariah Dark is less inclined to follow the rules imposed by humans like money, but he does know it can be important. Once in a while. Not that often, but it has its times.
So when he sees his adopted son being sad over being unable to pay for some kind of human delicacy, he digs around in his hair (yes, his hair.) and pulls out some money and puts it on the counter as payment.
The man inside the tiny vehicle had shrieked before getting what they wanted. Which is good. Fear is a good motivator, Pariah thinks.
Unknown to him, it wasn't out of fear (Well, mostly) but because the Ghost King placed down a coin made of pure, solid gold on his counter.
The two then go about their business in the human realm, completely forgetting about the fact that they were summoned here for something.
Constantine is both relieved and about to have an aneurysm at seeing Infinite Realm royalty only answering a summon because of Ice cream.
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charliemwrites · 5 months
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Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️? Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️.
Johnny didn’t mean to. He swears he didn’t mean to, please understand.
You’re his favorite server at his favorite bar. He finds every excuse he can to drag one or all of his team there. Yes he likes their company, of course. Likes spending time with them, laughing and joking and building bonds outside of life or death situations. But you are the highlight of those nights.
You smile so sweetly, a little cheeky twist whenever he gets all of the 141 there together. You know all their names - or their callsigns at least. Call Price “captain” with a giggle whenever he groans at you to stop calling him that.
Johnny adores you. Sometimes when he’s alone at the table - the others off smoking or playing pool - you’ll stop by. You don’t have to, but you do, chatting until one of the other servers teases to stop flirting and help bus.
You always blush when they shout that, but never deny it. Leave him with one last warm smile and a promise to top up his drink for listening to you ramble. As if he couldn’t live with your voice in his ears all the time.
You tell him about your masters program. Complain about shitty customers. Admit you broke up with your last boyfriend for calling your hobbies a “silly waste of time.” The movies you’ve seen or watch for nostalgia. He knows when your playlist is on at the bar because you spend your entire shift bouncing and mouthing along whenever you’re not handling a customer.
It’s a slow infection. A creeping, insidious thing that seeps into his blood and corrupts him from the inside out. This awful, twisting devotion for you.
He knows to be careful, loathe to be one of those men you avoid like the plague, trading with other servers to handle. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s happy with the flirting and the little kindnesses, happy that you always light up when you see him. That you breathe a quiet “thank you” and squeeze his arm the one time he steps in one a handshake customer on your behalf.
It’s enough. He reminds himself that it’s enough. He doesn’t deserve more than you’re willing to give. He can’t give you the life you deserve yet.
But then one day things go wrong. So, so wrong.
There’s been a rowdy group of men that have been harassing the younger servers all night. You stepped in, older and more experienced, practiced at not giving them the reactions they want. It’s another of the things Johnny loves about you. You don’t need a mask like Ghost to hide your face.
One them especially tries antagonize you, even manages to earn a sharp word when he says something crass. Johnny tenses when the guy (buddies following suit) starts getting loud, aggressive. Towering over you when he knocks over his barstool, trying to intimidate.
Johnny shoves the guy away from you before it can get much farther. Relief washes over you as the owner, a big burly man, finally makes an appearance and kicks the lot of them out.
“A whiskey on the house for Soap,” you ask the bartender, hand pressed to your chest. “My knight in a cotton sweater.”
He smiles for your sake, mind buzzing to see you so shaken up.
“Alright, lass?”
“Yeah, just spooked me is all,” you sigh, a hand to your cheek now. “Think I’m gonna step out for some air. Thank you again, John.”
He lets you go, even though every molecule in his body urges him to bundle you up under his arm, safe and sound. Take you somewhere quiet to smooth your feathers.
Something doesn’t feel right.
He manages to wait exactly one minute and seventeen seconds before he tells a blasted Gaz that he’s going to the bathroom. When he steps out the back door, you’re being cornered by the man, two of his friends hanging back telling him to “leave it alone” but not actually doing a fucking thing to stop him.
So Johnny does. Honestly, he blacks out for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s cradling you in his arms, his knuckles stinging and bloody. The men are nowhere to be found but there’s a pool of blood in the alleyway. You’re unconscious, fainted sometime in the scuffle - or maybe hit your head.
Johnny isn’t himself. He’s not thinking. He’s used to keeping his cool with guns pressed to his head, but this is different. This is you.
He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t but it’s the best he can come up with when he just got a firsthand look at how dangerous the world is for you when he’s not around.
Please understand. He has to keep you safe.
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yoursghouly · 8 months
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glorious-destruction · 3 months
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“Tortured poets department?” Back in my day it was dead poets society
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hughmanbean · 3 months
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Queen of the Cosmos
Signs are showing. Constantine dreads what they predict.
The Queen of the Cosmos, Successor of the Tyrant King, Ruler of Galaxies, Embodiment of Space, Keeper of Balance, Siren of Stars, and many more.
She's the most powerful BeingTM by millennia. As far as the information John's gotten has indicated.
The stars are flowing, swimming in smooth currents. The sun dims, cracks of darkness revealing nebulae so beautiful. The moon grins, knowing and mischievous. The horizon is a mixture of greens and purples and blues and yellows.
The Queen of the Cosmos will arrive, and she must be welcomed.
The Queen of the Cosmos shall come, and she must be respected.
The Queen of the Cosmos is near, and the royal family will follow.
John grimaced. A Wrathful Prince with a habit of glassing worlds? A Wandering Princess who played tricks? A Knight with a penchant for punishing dissenters with eternal madness? This wouldn't be easy. Time to tell the Big Guys and Girls.
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diejager · 3 months
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It got deleted again 😂
Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.
He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.
Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.
Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.
He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.
You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.
“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”
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