Just a quick PSA: I've been using garbagecompactor3263827 for a while as the dumping ground for all the rabid stuff I feel guilty about flooding my dashboard with. Now, after a millennia or so hiatus, I'm finally getting back into writing and I feel the need to consolidate.
I'll be reblogging a good bit of my content from the garbagecompactor over here, and using this sub blog specifically for all my fanfiction & fanart hot mess.
You're more than welcome to follow my primary account, vampirekilmer, but know that this is where most of the good stuff is.
This. This right here is who I think of when I say "Johnny". Not "John" or "Soap".
That's Johnny.
Who looks at you with the softest smile when you roll over in the morning, utterly charmed by your messy hair.
Who is forever interrupting whatever you're working on because the moment your back is turned, his hands are inexorably drawn to wrap around the curve of your hips, nuzzling the side of your neck and smiling as you whine and try to wiggle away.
He listens to you without interrupting when you need to rant. He has the emotional maturity and awareness to explain that he needs to go out to the garage and hit the heavy punching bag he has hung there; you've done nothing wrong, but he wants to cave your boss' face in right now, but he knows that won't fix anything.
That soft wonder is how he looks up at you sitting on the sofa while kneeling between your spread thighs. "Ye donna have ta' do anything, lass. Just want ta' make you feel good. Been gone too damn long-- I miss the taste of your honey on my tongue."
Yeah, this is Johnny in Guile and Guilt by @the-californicationist . You should check it out. ♥️♥️♥️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
hear me out, husband! Price letting his hair grow out while on a longer leave. his little twins are all over it, attempting to braid it, clipping as many colourful butterfly and unicorn clips into it as possible.
as his leave comes to an end he asks you to give him a haircut. he trusts you with those scissors a little too much so you get really focused to not make his cut uneven. all the while he is watching you with rapt attention, hands resting on your hips kneading them absentmindedly wondering if you'll let him give you another baby.
while you're finishing up he can't take it anymore and hoists you up by your thighs, holding you with one hand while taking the scissors away putting them back into a drawer where the kids can't stumble upon them. mind already scrambled with the thoughts of you swollen with his baby again, he licks into your mouth murmuring between kisses, "how about one more? come on, honey. just one more yeah?"
is it really any surprise that you never could tell him no? you're just hoping that it won't be twins again.
No, I'm pretty sure it's not. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure this is something the entirety of COD fanfiction fandom is in unanimous agreement about. 😆
lumberjack!price who lets you stay in his cabin after he finds you on the side of the road in your broken down car. insists that you come stay at his house for the remainder of the day into the morning since it's getting dark out and the weather forecast is saying it might snow - last thing he wants is for you to be stranded without a place to stay while the car sits in a repair shop. and doesn't want a 'pretty thing' like yourself staying alone in a motel.
lumberjack!price who tows your car to the local mechanic he knows before the two of you head back to his cabin for the night. tells the local mechanic, simon, who you find out is one of his friends, that he'll cover the cost of whatever is wrong with it and to try to make it a priority. and despite your protests, he tells you not to worry about it and that simon owes him anyway so the cost won't be too bad. what you don't know is that he texted simon later that night to take as long as possible fixing up your car.
lumberjack!price who doesn't alarm you at all despite being a complete stranger. he's hospitable, kind and attentive to you when you both arrive back at his home. the wood and pine smell comforting, reminding you of christmas candle scent when you enter. shows you to the guest room and grabs you a change of clothes, but apologizes for the only option being large sweatpants or plaid pajama pants and an worn tshirt of his. 'pretty much a bachelor pad if you can't tell,' he jokes and you tell him it's no problem at all. offers to make dinner while you make yourself comfortable and have a chance to wash up. has the fireplace going when you reemerge from a shower with wet hair dripping, parts of his worn tshirt clinging to your chest from the damp fabric. swears under his breath slightly at the sight of you, but you don't question it as he covers it up quickly by pretending he burnt himself sightly while cooking.
lumberjack!price who chuckled when you begged to clean up after dinner as it was the least you could do after all his help today. and this time, the sight of him after his own shower causing you to fumble some of the utensils in the sink, soap suds your excuse for the slippery silverware that clanks against the glass plates. his large frame mostly covered in body hair while his own pajama pants hang slightly low, a darkened area of hair creating an obviously happy trail. his belly slightly protruding, but firm nonetheless. or at least that is what you think if you were to touch it. nervous 'no, no. it's okay.' leaving your lips as you subside his worry that him being shirtless is making you uncomfortable, explaining it's just a habit since it's normally just him around.
nervous 'no, no. it's okay.' leaving your lips as you subside his worry that him being shirtless is making you uncomfortable, explaining it's just a habit since it's normally just him around.
Now all I can think of is that viral TikTok sound about flirting. Ya know, the "I'm pretty sure you'd sleep in and forgrt to meet me this morning. That's how I imagine Reader's reaction to Price saying this.
Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.
MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS
AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated
You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?
Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part.
He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you.
It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous.
“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”
The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,
“You gonna make it, lass?”
“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”
“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”
You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional.
It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?
Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying,
"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good."
You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.
“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”
You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle.
Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,
“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.”
“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen.
“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”
“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino.
Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,
“No charge. Just want it to be right.”
“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”
Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.
“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.
If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered.
You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him.
When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy.
He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body.
Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,
“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”
You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,
“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”
You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,
“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”
“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”
You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist.
“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”
Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands.
You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said.
Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,
“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”
“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”
You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface.
You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work.
“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”
His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks.
You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?
“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”
Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,
“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?
Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,
“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”
The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,
“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”
He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.
“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”
Mike’s head popped over his iPad,
“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”
“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops.
He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so.
“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”
You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles.
“Sorry!” You whispered to him.
He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,
“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”
Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.
“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”
You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,
“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”
“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes.
You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own.
He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft.
“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”
In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again.
He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft.
“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”
The camera man laughed,
“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”
“Shut up, mate.”
You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point.
Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,
“How are we doin’, lass?”
“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in.
“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”
His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,
“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”
His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,
“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”
“Light,” someone told him.
“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”
“Yeah,” you shrugged.
“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”
Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,
“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”
Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again.
“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”
He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.
“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.
“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”
“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”
“I just need my bag.”
Mike’s sigh was theatrical,
“Everyone take five.”
The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls.
“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.
“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.
He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,
“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise,
“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”
He laughed,
“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”
His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular.
“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”
You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much.
Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded,
“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”
He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,
“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”
You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth.
“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”
“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”
You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt.
Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you.
“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly.
Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.
Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch.
You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.
Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,
“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”
“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”
He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole.
“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”
You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full.
“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”
“You’re so tight, lass.”
He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him.
Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside.
You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy.
Mike’s bell went off in your ear.
“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”
Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound.
“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.
“Sure, bonnie.”
You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible.
The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door.
“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.
It was Johnny.
“Got room for one more, lass?”
You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,
“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”
“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam.
At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,
“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”
“Me, too,” you laughed.
“Class,” he smiled.
There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly,
“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”
The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you.
You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement.
Hey, @ceilidho ! I shared that ask you had about creepy pornstar Johnny with a friend of mine, and she was inspired to bang out a 4.5k fic 😆 Just thought you'd like to know!
- VampireKilmer (from the depths of my sideblog)
Editing to tag @ghostedbunnie who was the original nonny 🫶
I'm having a Johnny brainrot and who better to share with than you
imagine veteran pornstar! Johnny who gets introduced to a new blood in the industry, wide-eyed soft spoken probably in it just to pay your bills and his primal instincts kick into overdrive, he overhears that you are supposed to have your debut with some other guy and he won't have that, he pulls all the strings he can just to be the one. he crowds you into your changing room with easy smiles and kind words all the while his eyes are telling completely different story -- feverish, wild and raking all over you making you feel naked before you take off a single piece of clothing. he almost jumps you right there, has to ball his fist so hard he can feel his nails pierce his skin and he ends up planting a kiss on the corner of your lips saying "see you in a bit, bonnie. gonna make you feel real good."
i don't have anything intelligent to add to this beyond how much i'd read this :((( i love the mental image of Johnny talking to you with an easy smile, super casual tone of voice, but his eyes are just charged. like feverishly hot, pupils super dilated. he can mask the rest of his behaviour behind a veneer of normalcy to the point where he almost convinces you that he's normal, but his eyes betray him :\\
pulling strings so he gets to take your porn virginity is soooo sick. i love it.
This right here? This is more and more becoming my headcanon for Johnny. We talk about how big and scary Ghost is, or what a natural service dom Price is.... but the more I think on it, the more I'm convinced that underneath the warm, bubbly exterior Soap is actually a feral fiend.
Watching clips of Neil from other shows or even auditions makes it more pronounced. There's a brightness to his eyes that can be too bright, too sharp.
See what I mean?
The smile in the first pic is so genuine... and yet, there's an edge to it. A sharpness that's a little unnerving, predatory.
So, someone is going to write this fic, yeah? Bueller? Bueller? 😆 @ceilidho @the-californicationist @gemmahale
"The simultaneous borrowing of French and Latin words led to a highly distinctive feature of modern English vocabulary: sets of three items, all expressing the same fundamental notion but differing slightly in meaning or style, e.g., kingly, royal, regal; rise, mount, ascend; ask, question, interrogate; fast, firm, secure; holy, sacred, consecrated. The Old English word (the first in each triplet) is the most colloquial, the French (the second) is more literary, and the Latin word (the last) more learned." (Howard Jackson and Etienne Zé Amvela, "Words, Meaning and Vocabulary: An Introduction to Modern English Lexicology." Continuum, 2000)
via ThoughtCo
Though I like how John McWhorter phrases it better:
But language tends not to do what we want it to. The die was cast: English had thousands of new words competing with native English words for the same things. One result was triplets allowing us to express ideas with varying degrees of formality. Help is English, aid is French, assist is Latin. Or, kingly is English, royal is French, regal is Latin – note how one imagines posture improving with each level: kingly sounds almost mocking, regal is straight-backed like a throne, royal is somewhere in the middle, a worthy but fallible monarch.
Save your documents. Strive to be safe, not sorry.
Back-up your documents. Strive to be safe, not sorry.
Placeholder names can quickly turn into forever names. Picking name(s) on a whim can lead to great things, or it can become your worst nightmare (😁).
Your writing has value. Yes, even the most inadequate of writing. You don't have to boast or even like everything you've ever written, but even the most questionable of writing will have contributed to your growth as a storyteller. Cherish it for what it is.
You can take a break. It is absolutely okay.
First drafts are scary. But you know what's more scary? Not having a draft at all.
Using clichés or ''overdone'' tropes will not kill your story. Firstly, tropes are building blocks. Secondly, humans actively search to consume stories revolving around these tropes.
Write your heart out. Boast about your writing. Boast about your friends' and fellow writers' writing. Everyone deserves recognition, even you, from within your own heart. (Sorry. That's really cheesy. But it's true).
also much as i hate to mention the solo movie when chewie introduced han to the wookie they found in the mines his first reaction was to pat hans head like you would when you meet a new dog
To further the analogy of Han is the Dog, According to various canon sources, a Standard Human in the Star Wars universe has a life expectancy of roughly 100-120 years. A Wookie has a life expectancy of around 400 years.
So, caring for Han for Han’s whole life is a commitment of less than a quarter of Chewie’s life. It’s like having a dog that lives to 20-22. A long term companion, but one you know you’re probably going to outlive.
I hate the whole discourse of: "fanfic writers need to accept criticism so they can improve". Look, I did not post 5k of men blowing their loads so that I can become Hemingway or something, just don't read it if you don't want to, or do read it and drop your damn thanks in the tin.
nsfw. mdni. the audio erotia app mentioned is quinn, i highly recommend it.
cw: male masturbation
“no, that’ll be all for today, love.”
it shouldn’t make you stop in your tracks but it does. a familiar voice that somehow makes its way to you over the din of the grocery store. the petname is what gets your ears perked up first, you don’t hear love used too often in the upper midwest. but then you hone in on the accent, the all too familiar accent that envelops you in heat and lust while you’re alone in your bed.
but it can’t be him. the owner of the voice that you listen to to help get off isn’t in your local grocery store, right? but then you allow yourself to survey your surroundings, trying to subtly pick out the lone Brit that has a way of making you wet just from his voice alone. you think you spot him at the deli counter, waiting for something to be sliced. he’s tall and dark, hair covered by a well worn dark blue baseball hat.
you discovered “gaz” months ago online, scrolling through dozens of audios on the website before pausing on one of his boyfriend roleplays. you weren’t one to be attracted to accents, but his profile picture is what got you. it was a shot of his side prolife leaving you only able to pick out a few details but it checked all of your boxes. dark eyes. broad nose. full lips.
the man in the little picture you look at while bringing yourself to orgasm looks an awful lot like the man stood just a handful of feet from you. you try not to make an audible noise of shook when you hear his voice again, “thanks, love, appreciate it.” there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that tries to convince yourself that you’re crazy, that you’re just projecting, but you allow yourself this little victory. it was him. the man whose voice had you writhing against the sheets. the man who could have you laughing to yourself at his snarky little jokes and then have you moaning as he groans on and on about your soft thighs and big fat arse.
but now what were you supposed to do with this information? it’s not like you could approach him, what would you even say? you virtually know nothing about him, he doesn’t have any social medias linked to the audio erotica website. you’ve always figured gaz was some sort of nickname. but now you can at least see he dresses well. his dark trousers fit him quite nicely, the material stretching over his thighs. his dark leather boots shine against the fluorescent lights and he’s wearing a soft sweater that stretches against his shoulders. and he’s nice to service workers.
you try not to melt on the spot.
you’re knocked out of your gleeful reverie when he turns away from the counter, dropping his deli item into his basket. the giddy, little smile that had graced your lips falls from your face as his gaze meets your’s. your body goes hot with embarrassment and the only thing you can think to do is quickly turn to the display next to you and pretend to be seriously considering the items on the shelves. out of the corner of your eye you see him approaching you and as you reach up to blindly pull an item off the shelf, not even knowing what it was but pretending to read the nutrition facts and ingredients on the back, something you normally never do.
you smell him before you feel him, inhaling a waft of spice with a hint of sweetness that somehow fits him so well. you think he’s just about to pass you buy but instead he stops just a pace behind you, reaching over you to grab something off the top shelf. “pardon my reach, love.” he husks, a hint of a smile so clear in his voice. he knows what he’s doing.
your rattled mind can’t come up with an appropriate response because all you can think is it’s actually him. he slinks off behind you and you take a deep, grounding breath before walking off in the opposite direction. the grocer isn’t that big so you quickly make your way through the rest of the store grabbing your last few items with your head down, trying not to make anymore eye contact with the hot stranger that you’re intimately too familiar with. you luckily make it through self checkout without seeing him again.
-
after a few long days at work you almost have been able to put gaz out of your mind completely. you wake up at the crack of dawn, run yourself ragged at work, and when you get home from you barely have the capacity to feed yourself. you usually make time for self care late at night with the help of a smooth british accent but the last couple days you’ve been avoiding the website altogether. you tell yourself it’s just because you don’t have the time or the energy for it, but you know deep down the embarrassment of him catching you at the grocery store is still lingering.
and the thing is that it realistically shouldn’t be all that embarrassing. he can’t know that you know him, can’t know where you know him from. but it somehow ot felt like he did, the little smirk he gave you when he caught your eyes ogling him, the way he reached over you, his body pressing against you for just a moment. but he didn’t, he couldn’t have known. but you know. you know the way his voice sets your stomach on fire, you know the way his voice gets you to do things to yourself you never thought you would, the way his voice gets you begging and moaning in the darkness and quiet of your own room.
you finally break down days later. work keeps wearing you down, but you’re past the point of being dejected and exhausted, today you come home from work huffing and irritated. when you finally lie down to sleep in the early hours of the night you realize that your restlessness is going to keep you up all night. you ignore the pit in your stomach as you finally reach for your phone, swiping it open and scrolling to the app that you’ve been avoiding for days.
you scroll through all the new audios, none really piquing your interest. you knew that there was going to be something new from gaz but your stomach still jumps when you catch his profile picture. you haven’t looked at his profile since the grocery store disaster but yeah. that’s the guy. something settles in your stomach as your finger clicks on the new audio. the audio description and tags catch you off guard.
I just can’t stop thinking about her.
[M4F] [Ramblefap] [Unscripted] [Masturbation Noises] [Direct To Listener]
you’re clicking on the play button without even thinking about it, gaz’s voice quickly filling the room. and again, it’s just another confirmation, the voice coming from your phone was the same voice from the grocery store. fuck.
“i usually don’t do audios like this,” and he doesn’t, his audios are usually scripted roleplays. sometimes he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes he’s pretending to be a friend who's harboring feelings for you, and he has an affinity for pretending to be a vampire during october. he’s quite a talented writer, his dialogues always coming across as authentic and immersive in the scene. but right now his voice sounds almost a little shy? like he’s not sure about what he’s doing. it’s cute, you have to admit, a man who usually seems to be confident in whatever role he’s playing, sounding so unsure of himself as he’s being himself.
“but, i’ve just had someone on my mind for days and every time i sit down and try to write a new script it just turns into her.” lucky broad, you can’t help but think. “so i just thought i’d get it out of my system. well, until i see her again and then it starts all over again.” he cuts himself off with a little laugh and it makes you feel warm inside like you usually do while listening to him. he wasn’t the most personable person on the platform, he used a nickname and didn’t have any pieces of his actual identity attached to his account but he always let little nuggets of his personality shine through whatever audio he was recording.
you hear some rustling in the background of the audio and your mind is supplying a visual of him now, much more detailed and accurate than prior to seeing him. you imagine him laid out on his bed, body long and lean against dark bedding, maybe something blue like his hat. “i should probably start by admitting that i did a bad thing. i know i sometimes pretend to be your sweet and attentive boyfriend, but sometimes i do things i shouldn’t. bit of a bad boy, i fear.” there’s that laugh again, a cheeky little thing. you can tell from his voice that he’s getting more comfortable with this unfamiliar format. it makes you relax, too.
“ran into a soft, pretty thing while i was out at the shops the other day.” you almost don’t hear the click of a cap over your brain malfunctioning, presumably lube with the sticky sounds that follow. it must just be a coincidence, right? he must be talking about some other fat girl he met at the shops, right? “felt a pair of eyes on me while i was waiting at the counter and found her eyeing me up.”
he sighs a soft breath, the slick sounds of his hand on his cock picking up. your arousal is secondary to the dumbfounded amazement you feel at each word he says. “she seemed a little embarrassed that i caught her staring, but i was flattered to have such a pretty thing looking at me like that.”
you keep trying to convince yourself it’s just a coincidence because things like this just don’t happen. there’s no way that the hot guy from the grocery store is the hot british guy from your audio porn. there’s no way. “her arse looked fucking incredible in the jeans she was wearing and i just, sometimes i can’t control myself around an arse like that. i got up right behind her, and i know you’re not supposed to do that but - fuck- i just needed to get closer.”
his words aren’t as smooth anymore, his voice isn’t as humorous, instead it’s dripping with his usual heat. you almost don’t want to continue listening, almost too nervous to hear any more details, but you can’t get yourself to hit pause. “she was just standing there so i made like i had to reach around her to grab something. sick little thing for me to do, but fuck did it feel good to be that close.”
it’s like your mind turns back on and you’re able to hit the pause button, going further to swipe out of the app entirely before burying your face in your pillows. you were so fucked.
You know what bugs me about soulmate aus? So, I’m assuming that this whole “the first thing your soulmate says to you blahblahblah” is a worldwide thing. So many of the aus I’ve read have a quote at some point that addresses how tragic it is when people have soul words that say something like “hi” or “‘sup” which makes NO SENSE! In a world where the first thing you say to people is THAT important, WHY GOD WHY would the culture still use standard greetings? Who the fuck is still saying hello at this point? Everyone in these worlds would surely develop a personalized greeting different from everybody else’s to prevent confusion. Like how no 2 racehorses can have the same racing name? The best part is that every time people met someone new for the first time, they would try to say something that no one else had said. You’d have people meeting eachother at a job intetview, they’d shake hands, smile politely, then one of them would be like “Every Tuesday, I hard even grape purple farm house sunsets too” and this would be perfectly normal. Or you’d go up to the cash register at Starbucks and instead of saying “Hello, what can i get for you today?” She’d look you right in the eye and say “I don’t know what Space Jam is” THEN ask you what you want and she’d repeat that to every customer in the line for the rest of her career. And because they live in the AU, nobody would think it was weird.
So when those writing advice posts say “When you make up a rule about your universe, good writing will extrapolate how that rule will affect the world”
THIS is what that advice is talking about. This exactly.
I started with succulents like everyone else but tbh orchids are rapidly becoming my plant blorbos. Everyone takes care of them wrong and it's not your FAULT because the care instructions that come with them are!! Incorrect!!! If you do what they say then your orchid will die!!!! If you give them the right environment they're SO easy. They're such easy plants to grow. They have been UNFAIRLY SLANDERED by a MISINFORMATION campaign. They don't deserve this.
I'm grabbing your shoulders and looking deeply and homoerotically into your eyes. Listen to me. Listen. It Is Not Your Fault. They sell orchids in these shitty little plastic pots and fill them with water and stick them in heavier ceramic pots without ANY drainage holes. And then the fucking care sheet tells you to water these TROPICAL PLANTS with ICE CUBES. Of course they're going to die.
Orchids are a special type of plant called an epiphyte. You know those little air plants that are all the rage now?
I'm talking these babies. You can do cool things with them like this:
And this:
(link to the Etsy shop btw. These look cool. Though honestly you can probably find some art miniatures and do this yourself without much effort)
They don't have roots, so you can do whatever you want with them. You can put them in a globe or put them on a statue or just leave them on a table, they don't care. They're super low maintenance and easy to keep alive. All you have to do is dunk them in water once a week.
That's an orchid. An orchid is an air plant. In the wild, they grow on trees. Their roots are designed to anchor them to trees, not to dig into the soil. They NEED air. The moment they get waterlogged, which they will in those shitty little pots that you buy them in, they're going to rot, and eventually the whole plant will die. They can't have ANY sitting water. None. They need pots with drainage holes that are elevated so air can reach them from the top and bottom. This is what I mean by elevated btw:
Put something at the bottom of the pot that creates an air gap between it and the surface. Make sure it has gaps so air can flow through. Put a plate at the bottom to catch water when you water your orchid, every 2 weeks or whenever you remember. I have solved all your orchid woes.
And don't water them with fucking ice cubes. I'm going to find whoever invented the ice cube advice and fight them with my fists. These are tropical plants. They don't know what ice is. They're not evolved to deal with below freezing temperatures. If you water them with ice cubes you're just going to give your orchid frostbite, and it will die. No ice cubes.
ALSO if your orchid is in a pot, make sure you use orchid bark, not soil, as its potting medium. Though, honestly, you don't even need a pot. Like:
Look at them, just chilling. THIS is how they grow in the wild:
I think that's a different species of orchid than the phalaenopsis orchid we grow in cultivation, but the point still stands. That ^ is their natural habitat.
You can see the roots are just hanging out in the open. This is why air is so important to them. Air is more important than water. I'm like ?? 90% sure orchids can absorb ambient water through the air, but I'm not 100% sure so don't quote me on that. I did forget to water my orchids for 2 months once and they were fine, so. 🤷♀️ As long as they have enough air flow, they're more like succulents in terms of care. You water when you remember to, and just forget about them the rest of the time.
All this is so good! Also, if you have a bathroom window, they LOVE the humidity in there. I grew a whole windowsill full for years and it was so easy!
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