happy transgender visibility day!! to all the lovely trans people reading this, you are loved and valid! you deserve nothing but happiness and love 🏳️⚧️🤍
I wanted to make or paint a figure to celebrate the anime release. This took a while to arrive and to paint, so I wasn't able to post it back when episode 1 came out.
I love this pose, and unfortunately I don't like the new Kuji's style, so when I found this beautiful printable model I was instantly hooked.
I tried to replicate Araki's original illustration colors, but I left Johnny's hair blonde and Gyro's accessories and lipstick green.
cw: yandere content, fem!reader, spoilers for johnny’s past, obsessive behaviors, modern and equestrian academy!AU (Stands still exist), tusk being a lil shit, suggestive, background y/n's harem stuff, potential manipulation? this was meant to be cute…
a/n: my slightly overdue contribution to the fandom ◡̈
"Hey.”
”Hey.”
..okay, judging by your still-in-place smile, Johnny can proudly conclude he did a better job in tidying up the apartment than whatever monstrosity Gyro committed to the air spray last week.
You switch to a pair of indoor slippers, organizing the shoe rack in the process (he’s thankful for that), while balancing a plate of freshly baked cookies in your other hand (he’s super thankful for that). Being spoiled so often with pastries and your lovely company, it’s hard for him not to get attached, even when Diego has and will always chew you out for it when your roommate comes home in the evening.
These walls aren’t thick, and he definitely heard minor bickering downstairs: you huffing, Diego spilling petty insults he didn’t actually mean. It would always end with running water at the sink, where Johnny presumes you got that grumpy dinosaur to do the dishes while you dry, his complaints lasting all night.
Chumimi~in
Tusk ACT1 materializes before your hand even grazes the edge of the table and pulls out a chair for you to sit across from him. It lets out a cute squeal upon seeing the sweet-smelling treat on the table… and you. OR you. Eh, those two things became interchangeable long ago in the dusty recesses of his mind.
“Aww,” you coo as his Stand skips the plate and lunges straight at your face. Being the cute, tiny little pink… thing it is, Tusk just bumps against your nose. That draws another laugh out of your soft lips. “Hi there, little buddy~”
Great, not even two minutes into this hangout, and he is so close to popping a boner.
Attempting to diffuse the heat in his groin, the blond clears his throat. “Hello? I’m still here!”
“Ah, right. Sorry!” You stick your tongue out, and he scoffs playfully. Tusk has stopped loitering around your face at this point, instead sprawling on your left shoulder with seemingly no intention of going back to its user any time soon.
“So,” you push the plate towards him; the smell of caramelized apple instantly blesses Johnny’s nostrils. “what happened this morning? I heard something fall at, uh, 3AM?"
"Oh, that was—“
Johnny shoves one cookie into his mouth with unusual gusto and almost moans at the heavenly taste. God, just how big were the meteorites that cyan dinosaur must have stopped for an asshole like Diego to come home to a beautiful girl and a home-cooked meal every day?
"—Gyro. He downed Robusta coffee before bed and woke up at midnight to deep clean the whole living room."
"And you just let him?" You try to reel your laugh in. Johnny sighs in response.
“It was way worse when you're not even five feet away from him. That dummy kept humming the stupid ass pizza cheese the entire time. I was so close to hitting him with a frying pan. "
"So the noise... "
“Ugh, I wish,” the blond rolls his eyes. “But he just tripped over a chair and lay there until sunrise.”
“Yeah, tell Gyro to walk it off.” You snicker. “It woke Dio up, and he almost barged up here to bite his head off.”
Chumimi~in
You should have moved on to lighter topics at this point, but Tusk chirps again, clearly agitated to not be the center of your attention for longer than three minutes. Wow, whoever this little shit took after must be so pathetic. Your eyes go from him to his Stand, soft and indulgent. Petting Tusk’s head with your index finger, you giggle when it leans into your palm like a touch-starved house cat.
Johnny stiffens in his wheelchair.
By extension, you're practically petting him too.
But it's fine; he's fine. Even if the throb in his pants begs to differ, Johnny balls both of his hands into fists and grinds his teeth as you nuzzle your cheek against Tusk. He... he can smell your sunscreen and shampoo, bits of cinnamon, butter from this morning's baking session. The warmth of your soft skin makes Johnny want to melt in his spot.
It ends up making him choke instead.
"Argh—!"
Letting out a gruttal sound, Johnny reaches for the herbal tea pot near the edge of the table for some warm liquid. But you, being who the girl that you are—too considerate, too kind, too perfect—rush to pour him a cup first. The blond mutters a small, sheepish thank you through flushed cheeks and lowered gaze as he drinks, feeling your hand smoothing down his back.
“You good? Sorry if the cookies are too dry. I probably put too much flour.”
Johnny quickly shakes his head, darting his eyes up to meet yours.
“No, they’re—”
Boobs.
That’s all it takes for his brain to short-circuit.
Because your boobs are three inches from his face, fucking dammit!
“They’re what?”
You look at him, mildly confused. You’re already bent over the table to hand him the teacup and stroke his back, not noticing how compromising your position is. It’s like those awful porn stacks Johnny found under Gyro’s bed, except he… kind of gets the appeal now.
“Dude,” you sigh. It slightly alarms Johnny how similar your brow-furrowing is to Diego's. “If you’re gonna have a stroke, can you hold it until next week? I still need pointers on my riding posture.”
"Ah, fuck—okay."
Satisfied with the answer, you beam and squish his cheeks together before finally backing away. He missed your touch. He misses you; you’re one of the few people in his life who don’t walk on eggshells around him, nor do you treat him like one.
Ever aware of its Master’s blooming desire, Tusk ACT1 squirms from its place on your shoulder. Okay, he isn’t this down bad, and even if he is—
Chumimi~in
“…”
His Stand just slid right down into your cleavage.
His brains blue-screen.
His eyes widen.
His jaws on the floor.
Johnny Joestar wants to fucking die.
“Y-You little shit! GET BACK HERE!”
Reaching over the table in desperation, Johnny extends his arm in a hopeless attempt to retract his Stand. It’s not just bad, it’s fucking horrendous how he can feel everything in the valley between your plump tits where Tusk is poking its tiny head out.
“I’m so fucking sorry! It just did that on its own, I swear to–”
Chumimi~in
Intense shockwave travels from his lower spine up the neurons in his brain; Johnny’s hands tremble in the air, panting as his face gets progressively redder. It’s like his head is buried between… oh Lord.
When he mutters your name, it sounds like a plea.
“Can you…? Please…?”
"I don't know... Tusk looks quite comfy here."
Johnny whimpers your name this time.
A sly grin makes its way onto your face.
”Hmph, alright.”
Lifting the tiny axolotl-like creature with your thumb and index finger, you hold it up for inspection. The sight seems... amusing for you, at least, judging by how your grin widens at the sight of Tusk's cartoonishly swirly eyes and the equally cartoonish dizzy stars crowding around its head.
A defeated groan left Johnny's lips, muffled by the blonde's palms over his own face. There goes his dignity.
"You're so evil..."
"At least this little fella likes it."
"Please put it down," Johnny musters with as much calmness as he can afford, though his voice still ends up cracking a bit.
You just shrug with a quaint smile.
But the second Johnny's hands move away, you immediately hoist Tusk closer to your face and start… peppering kisses all over the Stand’s face.
?!?!?!
?!?!?!?!?!
Johnny Joestar.exe has stopped working.
You were probably up two hours ago.
The same time Johnny rolled his wheelchair into the living room, his annoying Italian friend suddenly bolted up from where he fell on his ass, and proceeded to sniff the air like a guard dog.
“She’s baking again today.”
Johnny tried to keep his poker face. “So?”
“Don’t ‘So?’ me, you know it’s gonna be good stuff.” Gyro mused, flashing his toothy grin. “I’m out today, soldier. Try not to bust your nuts the second she walks through that door.”
Yeah, right.
…yeah, right…
“Aww, he’s so cute!”
You sing-song, pulling away at last. At this point, Tusk looks downright delirious at the attention and affection you bombarded it with in the last few minutes, its small body limping in the palms of your hands.
Chumimi~in
Blood is probably the last concern in his mind right now, with how hard Johnny’s fingers are digging into his temple, doing just anything to reel back the pained, desperate whimpers that were seconds from escaping. He can't breathe, can hardly hear his surroundings over the bass of his own heartbeats, drumming loud and clear in the blond’s ears.
You’re killing him, and you don’t even have a clue.
And yet, much to Johnny’s horror, Tusk ACT1 still finds the energy to shoot up one last time, circling your head like an excited puppy before finally fading away.
“...I-I hope you know that you just basically kissed my soul.”
It’s meant to be a casual remark, a bad joke in a poor attempt to water down his embarrassment.
“Mhm,” you grin. “I know.”
ADSHFEEFJHKJDFIOWREIHSMA—
Excuse me?!
“Hey, don’t Stands reflect their user's deepest desire though?” Your lips curl in amusement as you lean one cheek onto the palm that just cradled the literal manifestation of his life spirit. “Does that mean…?”
Johnny’s face gets progressively redder. As if his legs aren’t already immobile enough in this wheelchair, the blond will gladly throw himself off the balcony just to avoid looking you in the eyes.
“D-Don’t just… assume that,” he awkwardly clears his throat. “Tusk might be a manifestation of me, yes, but it has its own flairs and preferences too. You’re a pretty girl, you treat it nicely, you feed it food. Who wouldn't get attached?”
Ignore the fact that it applied to him too…
“Hmmm…"
He watches you purse your cute lips, tilting your head further to the side.
Fuck.
Maybe he does like you.
But is there a chance that you truly like him back?
Diego will wear your skin if you let him. Chain you down in a suburban mansion overlooking many rolling terrains filled with wild flowers right after graduation.
Soundman looks and feels elusive to the untrained eye, but if there's anything the man hates more than the white folks polluting his homeland, it's the fact that there are always two or more getting in the way of him courting you.
Clandestine trysts with Hot Pants by the lake are the only times her watching eyes soften, and her mouth loses its bitter edge. She loves you as much as she covets you, if the red ginsengs and maca roots she keeps slipping in your basket are anything to go by.
Johnny wonders where he fits amidst all this insanity. He’s been a cripple long before the incident took away his ability to walk; cripple in his feelings and how he kept drowning them out with hookups, cripple in familiar relationships, and how he would never know his father’s love for being the son who lived. The race is getting closer day by day, a gruelling 3,700-mile journey across America on horseback, backed by the most powerful corporations and potentially the President himself.
One victory, then a lifetime of glory.
“Alright, never mind.”
Taking in the awkward silence, you chuckle and hold your hands up in surrender.
“I’m just kidding, ok? Forget what I said.”
Admittedly, he isn’t mad as much as he is thankful. Getting into this Academy was the final act of mercy George could have granted before disowning his child altogether, but even then, the reputation and inspirational narrative of a now-paralyzed prodigy earned Johnny just enough attention that wallowing in misery was not an option anymore. Gyro’s company kept the bad thoughts away, but it’s in yours that they returned full-force.
He looks up and calls your name.
You blink at him, perplexed. “Yeah?”
Insecurity.
The point is, Johnny doesn’t want to spiral. He doesn’t want to curl up into himself every time you smile in his direction just to be reminded of the fact that, with no legs to move, he has no legs to run either. No choice but to face the husk of a man he had become over the years, trying to compensate for the love he couldn't get from his family.
Maybe that bullet was fate in itself; a twisted punishment from God to get back at him after the awfulness he inflicted upon others.
Maybe he could have been kinder. Seeing you at the cafeteria sometimes while you scold Diego for cutting in line and starting fights, Johnny wonders what would happen that day if he didn't do the same. If he had waited for his turn at the back like any normal person.
Maybe his soul could have stayed rotten as it was meant to be.
“Johnny, what's wrong?” You shoot up from your chair, shoulders tensing. "Do you need to lie down?”
But he wouldn't have met you.
He wouldn't even have you look at his direction, let alone sit across the table from him like this. Maybe he could have decided to be nice that one fateful day, and then what? An overnight epiphany wouldn't have magically redeemed himself from a long history of him treating people like disposable objects.
The arrogance you adored in Diego never looked pretty on him anyways.
Deep down, Johnny dreads the thought of being just another dumb blonde you would sneer at on the hallway. You wouldn’t say his name so sweetly, wouldn’t share the treats you made, and wouldn’t sit for hours just to hear him talk. Losing one of the most important bodily functions was what humbled him so much in the first place, and in hindsight, it probably was what earned him a soft spot in your heart as well.
Is it crazy if he truly believes you’re meant for him?
“Come here.”
A flash of shock crosses your face at how unusually calm he sounds. Still, the chair creaks as you move, rounding the table to face him.
“Hey, are you o—”
With one hand on your shirt collar, Johnny pulls you down to his level. A startled yelp left your lips as your knees collapsed into the carpet, the tip of your nose inches away from his.
“J-Johnny?”
You’re blushing. For the first time this morning, you’re blushing. His fingers travel from the length of your throat to the skin of your cheek, blue eyes fixating on how your lips part in awe.
“Shh…”
No.
Of course he's crazy.
But they could pry you out of his cold, dead hands.
If all is fair in love and war, the last thing Johnny’s going to do is take the back seat and watch his darling get taken away by someone else.
“You need pointers, right? On your riding posture?”
His grip tightens around your jawline as Johnny smiles.
“I’m free this afternoon. Meet me at three in front of the stable.”
You wince. “I’d love to, but I need to run some errands for—”
