#johnny op

[onepiececoloredits]

Chapter 52 Color Spread

[arataka-reigen]

Johnny and Usopp: rip Zoro, gone so young, we'll never forget you, we had nothing to do with your death

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

Johnny (12th November)

One Piece

[skygemspeaks]

Oh....i just realized that johnny and yosaku probably aren't gonna be in the live action 😨

[temeyes]

answer the question sir

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Hard Dom!Johnny Soap McTavish x Reader

Title: Tap out

Synopsis: You tap out, and Johnny takes care of you.

Warnings: Smut, safewords, overstim. It's hard dom.

AN: OMG this was one of the first fics I wrote for COD and about Johnny, so it's kinda special to me haha

The way he's off you like a repelled magnet as soon as you tap his wrist twice.

Johnny is having fun, choking you out with you laying down beside him--he's kneeling, merely shirtless. There's sweat running down that dimpled face and he's smirking, one hand on your collar bone, pushing in deep enough that you can feel it pool arousal in your tummy, your hand squeezing his arm as you ride waves of pleasure from his thumb circling your clit.

Tears are flowing down your cheeks from the overstimulation, anytime you feel like you're about to finish he stops and tuts, stopping his movements to ride it out further.

Then it's starting to get to be too much, from how he's forcing you down onto the bed. Your eyes look back up at his, all meek compared to the confidence he oozes.

Then your two fingers tap his wrist twice and it's the way Johnny practically flies across the room, hands in the air and off of you. You start to pant, trying to catch your breath and then he grows worried.

"Bonnie.." he mutters, walking to your side, tilting your head up, "wha' can I do fer ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel tears form, but this time from feeling so overwhelmed. That's when he rushes out of the room, leaving you alone.

He comes back after a second, rushing in with water and a towel. He puts the bottle of water up to your lips, urging you to drink some. When does Johnny EVER want you upset?

"C'mon, Bonnie.. donnae cry.." he mutters, covering your lower half with the blanket and sitting down beside you. You try to calm down, his thoughts reeling with how wrong he feels.

He mutters something in Scottish under his breath, likely a curse onto himself, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to his chest. Johnny lays your head down into him, "I's okay.. I'm sorrae I wen' so rough.." he coos, petting your hair.

You start to calm down and you shake your head, explaining that it wasn't his fault but he shushes you, kissing your forehead.

"C'mon.. bonnie, I was the one'n control. I had ye held don'. I' was me."

He kisses your head again, "Do ye need yer clothes? Are ye okay?"

When you shake your head and start to get up he pushes you right back down, tutting. He gets up off the bed and bends over, grabbing the shirt he was wearing, then tossing it to you. You give the faintest smile and start to pull yourself through it, and he's in your underwear drawer, finding you a pair of underwear.

He balls it up and tosses the pair to you, turning around to let you put it on.

"Do ye need a bat' firs', acth'ly?" He asks, hands behind his head as he waits for you to finish putting on your underwear.

"No.. 'm good," you respond, and he lets out a little sigh. You stand up, finished changing and he turns around, crossing his arms.

"Do ye need a bat'?" Johnny repeats, unimpressed by your original response.

You sigh and give up, "Fine... I'll take a bath." He walks to you, opening his arms, but hesitating, "Can I pick ye up, bonnie?" You give a tiny nod, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

He carries you to the washroom, and sets you on the counter to start your bath up.

"You wan' me in it, hen? Or no?" He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You think for a moment before nodding, taking a big deep breath. You take your clothes back off, and he sets them aside for you to put on when you're out.

He wraps his arms around you, lowering you down into the tub before getting undressed and getting into the tub with you.

He works carefully, lathering your hair with shampoo and cooing to you in Scottish Gaelic and English.

For a man with no reserve, who's a firecracker and a harddom, he really knows his aftercare.

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: johnny x manager!fem!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. rough sex. hate? sex. quickie. bathroom sex. unprotected sex. breeding kink. praise kink (bro's obsessed/down bad).

| wc: 2.8k

| aurora's note: this is originally written as johnny x manager!oc, so it's mildly plus size coded and includes background about johnny and reader being married and having a kid together already. enjoy <3

Being as busy as you were handling a million other issues backstage, you didn’t realize that Johnny was trying to get your attention for an entire song until a staff member finally interrupted what you were doing to tell you that something was wrong with Johnny. When you stopped to look at the stage, you saw Johnny standing there. During the middle of a song, he was just standing there, staring at you, waiting for your attention so that he could finally point at his mic and mouth frustratedly: “It’s not working!” Immediately, you groaned. How was it that you had a million staff members standing around doing nothing and not a single one of them thought to actually do something to solve the problem? Did you really have to do everything yourself? It seemed that you did indeed have to do it because you were the one who told the techs that something was wrong with his microphone and that it needed to be fixed— All the while, Johnny was still on stage, protesting the whole thing during his parts of the song by refusing to even lip sync or put full effort into the choreography.

By the time the song was over, they had a new battery pack and microphone ready for Johnny to switch out during the ment next up on the cue sheet. So you gestured for Johnny to come over.  When Johnny ran off stage, he immediately tossed his mic to the side angrily and snatched the new one from you without a word. You stared at him as the sound team closed in to check Johnny's in-ears as well to make sure that everything was working fine again. Johnny huffed and brushed them off so that he could check it himself. You sighed and shook your head at him. You understood that he was frustrated, but he was taking it out on the wrong people, and he was putting himself and everyone else in a sour mood unnecessarily. Then just as he was about to run off without a word, you caught his hand and pulled him back a few steps.

“Hey, look at me.”

Johnny reluctantly spun around while rolling his eyes.

“Smile a bit. Have fun. Don’t get upset again.” You kissed him quickly and smacked his ass— Which he usually would have giggled in response to, instead he continued to pout before escaping your hold and running off. “What’s got his panties in a twist?” you muttered to yourself.

Granted, once he was back on stage, Johnny was smiling and being his usual self that he presented in front of fans. Why he had to take his anger out on you was a mystery. You figured that he let it go or at least felt mildly better, however, because he was acting completely normal again and wasn’t continuously glancing off stage again for help which no one but you was eager to supply. Maybe he just needed a breather. The boys seemed to cheer him up, and interacting with the fans seemed to put a bright smile on his face… Surely he wasn’t mad anymore.

When the concert ended, the boys ran off stage to immediately hand over their equipment and get their water bottles which they all chugged for dear life. Except Johnny. Mr. Pouty angrily threw his mic and in-ear into his labeled basket without any care of if it would break; and in the process of throwing his public tantrum, he shocked literally everyone with his out of character behavior, prompting all of backstage to fall eerily silent and still. Johnny ignored them as he stormed off. Of course your first and only reaction was to follow him— Not as his worried wife but as his pissed off manager who was seeking an explanation about how a fucking mic could possibly do all that to him on the first night of their tour when they were supposed to be happy and just roll with any of the issues that would accidentally occur— That always happened during the first shows! Always! Johnny knew better than anyone that the first show was a trial run, so things were bound to go wrong…

Johnny suddenly diverted into a bathroom in the hallway, and before you knew what was going on, your wrists were being held in his tight grip as he pulled you in with him. You stumbled in, giving him time to lock the door.

“What’s your prob—”

The thought of scolding him was washed away within an instant when he cupped his hands over your ass and squeezed roughly so that you were pulled flush against his chest before he pushed both of you to the wall where he immediately began kissing you roughly.

“J—”

“Stop talking.”

Despite being caught completely off guard by Johnny, you did as you were told, instead of talking you used your energy to kiss him back in the hopes that he was just trying to ground himself with something real— with you. But the longer you kissed, the more aggressive Johnny got. You realized quickly that if you continued that it would go further until neither of you could stop, and you just couldn’t do that with everyone walking on eggshells around him and waiting for you to cool him down. If someone noticed you were gone for so long… If someone heard you… You just couldn’t risk it.

“Joh—”

“What did I say, hmmm?” With a rough grasp on your hips, Johnny spun you around and moved you over a few steps so that you were bent over the sink. “Why do you have to be so fucking pretty all the time? It’s a distraction… But you wouldn’t know that with how you get distracted during our performances. Do you realize how long I was trying to get your attention after my mic stopped working?”

“I had other things to do—”

“What part of ‘stop talking’ do you not get?”

You watched Johnny through the mirror as he focused on checking you out from head to toe with his lip bottom trapped between his teeth. He still looked angry. Honestly, you'd never seen him mad on stage, but what was even stranger was how mad he was with you. Johnny was kind and quiet and understanding. He hardly ever raised his voice, and he always stopped himself from going too far when he got upset. Now, though, it was like everything boiled over until he couldn’t control himself anymore, so his only salvation was bending you over the sink and pulling your cargo pants and underwear down in unison. You grabbed the cold counter top to hold yourself steady.

“Someone could catch us,” you warned warily, worried that he would scold you again for talking.

Johnny grabbed your ass to spread you open before groaning at the sight. “I don’t care.”

“But—”

“It’s not a crime to fuck my wife.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Tell that to the techs who couldn’t do their jobs earlier.”

“That’s not their fault.”

“Someone has to take the blame,” he told you sincerely, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror, not a hint of humor or kindness in those dark eyes of his. “Who’s it gonna be?”

You stared at him and exhaled. “It’s my fault for not making sure the techs checked the mic after your outfit change.”

Was it actually your fault? No. But if there was anyone you wished Johnny would be so angry with that he couldn’t see straight, you wanted it to be you because you knew that you could handle him. Who knew what he would do if let loose on the poor crew who made one silly mistake that ruined the whole show for Johnny? In his state, Johnny probably would’ve chewed into everyone there, regardless of their job title, so you instead offered yourself up, which seemed to do the trick because Johnny immediately took that answer and ran with it. With your pants barely pushed down around your thighs and no wiggle room between the sink and Johnny's body pressed up behind you, you had no choice but to stand still as Johnny began to undo his pants with one hand while the other remained glued to your hip. Without so much as a courteous warning, Johnny took you by surprise— Literally. One second you were bracing against the sink for what was to come, the next Johnny had his tip kissing your entrance, and then he was in all at once. You barely stood a chance. You tried to stay quiet by biting your lip and inevitably slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but it was too late. The shock of having Johnny fuck you so brutally and so suddenly was too much for you to handle. Surely if the boys were eavesdropping outside in the hopes of hearing you two argue, they were immediately scarred forever knowing that Johnny was railing their Noona in the bathroom… If crew members were walking by, they were likely running to gossip about the moans echoing from the bathroom… There was nothing you could do about it, not while your brain felt numb to everything but the fact that Johnny was deep inside of you, and he was being relentless.

“So fucking perfect,” he grunted quietly. “Look at you…” He reached around to grab your face and force you to look up into the mirror to watch your disheveled self bouncing into the sink every time Johnny thrusted forward. “What do I do with you? I just can’t help myself, baby, it’s getting dangerous… All I can think about is you— Even when I’m on stage, I think about you, you, you. It’s unprofessional.”

He hit a sensitive spot that made you moan his name.

“And that face… You always look so pretty when you go dumb on my cock.”

Sure, Johnny was the type to talk dirty in bed, but never like that with you. Back when you first started dating, you used to think about all the women he had been with before you and what they had gotten up to, and if Johnny missed any of it. Over the years, though, when Johnny never showed any changes in your sexual life, like wanting to be degrading, you figured that you assumed wrong about him. Yet there he was, bending you over the sink, holding you steady, and telling you dirty things that made you wet and your legs shake.

“I think I have an idea of what to do with you,” he said between deep thrusts. Leaning in close, his breath was hot on your ear as he whispered sensually, “I’m gonna fill you up…” The two of you moaned together at the thought. “You keep talking about wanting a girl who looks like you, right? We can do that. I can do that… Give you the little girl you want so badly… Maybe then you’ll be at home again like you were when you were pregnant with our son, so I won’t have to be distracted by you all the time.”

“Bold of you t— Fuck— B-bold of you to assume… you wouldn’t still… think— Shit— about me when I’m like that…”

Johnny chuckled. “True.” He brushed your hair off your shoulders so that he could have access to your neck where he started leaving visible hickies.

You reached back to slide one of your hands through his long hair before tugging on the strands to urge him to moan again.

“Gonna cum in you, darling,” he muttered desperately.

Those rough thrusts of his didn’t waver, even when you grunted about him going too fast or too hard. The sound of skin slapping together and moans echoing through the bathroom were enough to convince you that there was no way everyone in the building didn’t know about what you were doing in there. For whatever reason, though, you stopped caring. Maybe it was because the thought of you and Johnny having another kid made your brain melt… All of those comments you made about wanting a baby girl were just jokes to poke fun at how your son looked so like Johnny and not you, but to Johnny it wasn’t just a joke, and you should have known better after the fourth time you brought it up and Johnny kept saying, “One day.” You thought he was kidding too! But no, there he was, a man on a mission, driving into you like there was no tomorrow, like you were the last two people left on Earth.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck—” Johnny leaned back just enough for him to be able to look down at the obscene image of his cock disappearing into you over and over again as his nails left imprints in the fat on your hips. “So fucking pretty.” He slid his hands down to drag his nails up, leaving a trail of red marks in their wake along your plush thighs. “All mine, too.” He threw his head back and let out a moan as he very suddenly started cumming inside of you, also without any warning, just like everything else that night.

You stood with your weight being held up by his hands and your supportive grip on the sink, but your legs shook too hard to keep entirely still while you felt the warmth of his cum seep into your core. You could’ve sworn you heard him mumble something along the lines of, “Good girl,” but your head was spinning too fast to make sense of it. So just as quickly as Johnny had been in you, he slid out with a lewd sound caused by your wetness and his cum, then he pulled up his pants. With shaky hands, you pulled your pants up too. Neither of you said anything as Johnny pushed his hair back out of his face with a heavy, relieved sigh, like he couldn’t remember why he was mad in the first place now that he had gotten off inside of his wife who was left with a dry mouth and a body that was vibrating uncontrollably. You tried to calm yourself down the only way you knew how: You squatted down and bowed your head so that you could focus on catching your breath. Johnny gasped and reached out to grab you, but you had yourself still supported by holding onto the sink, so he backed off slightly but remained close in case you needed his help.

“I’m sorry, baby— I got ahead of myself, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you croaked, “John…”

“Yeah?” he replied worriedly.

“We’ve been together for nearly five years… You need to fuck me like that more often.”

For a moment, he didn’t do a thing, but then he started laughing loudly while leaning over to brace his hands on his knees. You stayed where you were on the ground. He nodded, still laughing. “Okay, baby, I can do that.” When he got his laugh out of the way, Johnny held his hands out to help you off the ground and up to your feet slowly so that you could carefully regain your bearings. “You okay?”

You nodded.

“Promise?”

“It’s not sexy if you keep asking.”

Johnny chuckled lightly before kissing your forehead. “By the way, I know it wasn’t your fault that my mic got fucked up. Stupid cord came loose, it’s no one’s fault.”

You looked up at him with a smile before kissing him with a peck at first until he used his height to tower over you and kiss you passionately while he inhaled for air and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair. When someone knocked on the bathroom door all of a sudden, you both pulled away and took a large step in opposite directions of each other as if you had actually been caught with your pants down.

“Are you two done?” Yuta asked from the other side of the door.

You sighed quietly. Yeah, everyone definitely knew about you two.

“Yeah,” you replied, giving up on the idea of pretending you weren’t in there or that you hadn’t just fucked. “Coming.”

Johnny chortled.

Your attention snapped to your husband, and before you could pull paper towels out of the dispenser and throw them at him, Johnny made a run for it out of the bathroom with his tail tucked between his legs.

taglist: @theycallmesya , @tiredlittlevirgo , @henderysposts , @trash-number-one , @mystverse

@aeriwave , @vrak-co , @chibilino , @luvhaeni , @leekslou

@ah-2212 , @junrenjun , @ant-onie , @sunshinesmuse , @userntfnd

@jibunie , @markyoursupplier127 , @linlinaert , @agust-june , @slayhaechan

@cherryynoir ,

[bressynonym]

an apple a day 🍎

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon Riley, who beats it into Soap to do leg checks in kickboxing by repeatedly smashing his left leg with kicks until he can't walk, because 'that's how you learn things' and then feels an unexpected wave of regret and shame when he sees the huge purpling bruise on Soap's thigh the next day as they pass each other in the shower. When Soap catches him looking, he flashes that big cocksure smile with those puppy dog blue eyes full of hero worship, "aye, L.T., shan't forget tae check now, eh?" and that just makes it a thousand times worse.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!

Poly 141 x F!OC. Previous. Villagers

Pt. 2: Paloma Meets Price

Johnny and Kyle lied to him. 

Horrid little pack mates, he should have known something was up when the pair were unusually quiet during their weekly friday night at the inn. 

John knew their newcomer had just arrived a few days prior, not that he had a lot of hope for the poor sod. People have come and gone to town before. Young bucks who thought they could hack it with the sweat off their backs. Most came because of the allure of the peaceful countryside, but quickly left when they realized luxury was a limited resource. 

John had sat at the bar, whiskey in hand, something deep in his soul easing at seeing the townsfolk all inside, laughing and happy. They were a pseudo-pack of sorts, not everyone bonded, not like him and his boys, but he remained protective of them all the same. It was sheer fortune that he'd built the pack that he had, beautiful, strong and resourceful as they were. It was an absolute dream to have them all together, safe in their little village. He wasn't particularly keen on adding another, though he supposed it was inevitable. 

The town's economy had been struggling since the earthquake cut down on business. Perhaps a new face wouldn't hurt…

Johnny and Kyle’s laughter pulled his attention, the pair playing some sort of roleplaying game at a nearby table, the party bantering after defeating a band of monsters. 

“The goblin floats lazily down the river, slowly…like, comically slow, and you know it won't be long before the rest of his hoard realizes he's missing.” Alex narrates, looking amused, (and just a little tired) after overseeing yet another harrowing adventure, all while the boys giggle and high five.

“I LOOK AROUND” Soap blurts, bypassing any structure of the game. 

“You don't wanna take a short rest first?” Alex retorts sharply.

“I did not lose any health” Farah cuts in, arms crossed, pointedly looking at Soap.

“Rest mate, you've only got 1 health point left.” Gaz adds.

“Ach fine, I rest. Then, I look around.” Soap laments.

Alex smirks, “We're resting so you can start fresh next week, but before we go” he leans in, mischief in his eyes. “You see a stranger, you know anything about strangers, Mactavish? Garrick?” He looks between them suspiciously. 

And this is what really gets John's attention, makes him turn away from the bar inconspicuously. Even Farah turns, schmoozing in close to Alex to fix the pair of men with an additional suspicious gaze, eyes narrowed.

The alphas share a look, a silent conversation happening between the long time friends before they're both shrugging in unison. 

Both Alex and Farah throw up their hands.

“Come off it boys, we know you've talked to the newbie.” Laswell calls from behind the bar, her wife Madeline grinning over her shoulder. 

John feels just a bit sour. They didn't tell him, they'd met the newcomer. 

The pair hem and haw.

“They seem alright” Gaz says, noncommittal.

Soap nods, “Real busy, they've got their hands full out there, for sure.”

“That's a whole lotta nothing.” comes a gruff voice, Ghost perched near the fireplace. 

John finally cuts in, his own god damned curiosity too much to bear. He feels a bit like a teenager, wants to know every detail, what they're like, what was their name, what did they look like, designation, etc. He reels it back instead.

“Are they going to stick around is what I want to know.” he grouses, taking another swig. If he were watching a little more closely, he would have seen the playful glint in both of his alpha's eyes. 

“Can't be sure.” Gaz replies, hiding a smile behind his drink.

“Maybe you should give ‘em a chat, Cap, see for yerself” Soap chimes in. “Not sure you two will jive though” he adds, staring absently into his mug. 

John wasn’t a tough man to get along with, just selective.

He huffs through his nose, finishes off his drink. It would have to wait. He'd already promised to help Nik with a few “projects” in the capital. Maybe the newcomer would be gone by the time he came back, that'd be one less problem to worry about.

~

He’d arrived back late monday evening, leaving Nik to unload his stock while he settled into a desk in the museum reception area, working through his portion of the collections paperwork and local donations. Desk work was never his favorite, but the peace and quiet of the old place, accompanied by the soft patter of rain against the large pane windows would be plenty to lull his weary mind to rest when the time came. He looked forward to crawling into one of his pack’s beds after a long weekend away. 

He’d settled in nicely, cigar in hand and hot evening tea, when the heavy wooden doors of the museum open, wind gently rustling the pages on his desk. He doesn’t look up right away, it’s probably Simon, coming by to check in. 

What he was not expecting however, was the soft round thing that tiptoes inside. Wet squeaky boots on marble as she blinks at him. She's a mess, dirt smeared on her sweet round cheeks and worn denim overalls, the soaked fabric hugging her soft tummy and wide hips, silvery hair tied back in messy twin braids dripping onto the floor. 

He stares. 

She stares. 

She’s the first to recover,  flashing him a sheepish smile, eyes bright behind big round glasses. His heart stutters just a bit. 

This was the newcomer?

“Hello! I’m sorry, I must have missed you earlier.” she chimes, seemingly unphased by her own disheveled appearance as she slips closer, slinging a heavy backpack from her shoulders with a soft grunt, the pickaxe at her back clanging noisily to the floor with the action.  

Who gave her a bloody pickaxe??

She slings out a hand and introduces herself, wrenching it back quickly to smear the remnant dirt from her hands onto her overalls before extending it again with an apologetic smile. 

It’s not often that John Price is dumbfounded, but it was certainly not every day that a big soft girl walks into his museum, especially not one like this. He didn't even realize he’d stood up, snuffling at the air like an old hound, trying to get just a whiff of the pretty thing. She’s an omega, he can feel it in his bones, something just on the edge of his biological periphery that makes his teeth ache. Her scent is nearly nonexistent under the earth and rain, but it’s there, sugary sweet like blueberry pancakes.  Something ugly preens in the back of his mind. 

Ah yes, this one is staying. 

“Are you alright, Captain?” 

He’s swift, snapping out of his thoughts to clamp his hand in hers. She’s cold to the touch, hands damp and freezing. Unacceptable. 

“Are you alright sweetheart? What have you been doing?” He rounds the desk, keeping her hand aloft, thumb rubbing at her skin in a weak attempt to warm her up as he looks her over. 

She had better not be doing what he thinks she was doing.

“Oh I’m peachy! Just doing a bit of mining, time just got away from me is all.” she laughs, nerves apparent in her soft english lilt. 

She was.

He bites back an exasperated huff, brows furrowed in displeasure as he scans her from head to toe. She goes still, nervous, like a pup as he comes closer. She’s filthy, but doesn’t appear to be injured, just…clumsy, the ass of her overalls covered in mud from where she’d apparently fallen, several times, but otherwise okay. His brain slows down just a little. 

“You were in the mines?” he asks incredulously, her hand slipping from his as she jumps back to life. “And who’d you learn ‘Captain’ from?”

“Yes!” she chirps, she’s beyond excited, dropping to her knees to root through her backpack, the sound of stones and tin clanking around in its confines. ”Soap and Gaz told me all about you, said you were always pretty busy, but I’d catch you eventually.” She pauses her rummaging, whipping back around to point at him ”They speak very highly of you by the way.” she tells him, as if the words were an important message she was tasked to bring to him. 

Of course. Conniving little shits, both of them. Trying to sell him false goods. He would have both of their heads later for hogging this pretty girl all to themselves. Telling lies. Though part of him was proud, they knew him all too well, at least well enough to know he had a big soft spot for pretty birds.

All he can do is hum, watching her with no small amount of confusion as she continues to root. It appears she’s never met a stranger, bulldozing over any social formalities unwittingly.  

“I’ve read mining used to be a big deal here, a great source of revenue.” she rambles giddily, “I didn’t think I would have much luck but look!” She yanks out an armful of dirt covered items, and bless her, Price doesn’t have the heart to tell her most of it is shit. Common coal and some exceptionally glittery rocks, but more importantly something else catches his eye, green and chitinous. 

“Is that a bloody bug?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah! Alex told me you all were looking to make some new collections, and I noticed you didn’t have much in the way of entomology. I thought it’d be a fun thing to start!”

Fun.

Price has spent years of his life, smashing these flying demons deep in the mines, and here she was catching them. As odd as she is, the pure passion in her eyes is incredibly endearing. It was already a miracle that the goofy thing had climbed down there on her own, come out with a bag full of rocks and a bug, all without being crushed, stung or bitten. 

He’d known the girl for a whole 10 minutes and already had his hands full.

He would need to have a serious talk with her about going down there again, but in the meantime he had no intention of crushing her spirit. She reminds him of Soap, brilliant and bright as a star, and it brings a fond smile to his lips. 

“Quite industrious aren’t you Miss Hadley? Looks like you’ve found quite a bit, I’ll take a better look at these in the morning” he explains, carefully placing her prizes in a bin for later, “I’ll have your payment for the donations sent later in the day. For now, It’s far too late for pretty girls to be out this late, you're soaked to the bone.” 

She blinks a bit, as if it just occurred to her, “Oh yes, didn’t think it would rain quite this hard all day.” she laughs a bit awkwardly, recollecting her soggy backpack. “I didn’t mean to disturb your evening.” she grabs her pickaxe (the one he was half tempted to hide and hope she forgot) before angling herself toward the door. 

John has to actively bite back the harsh no bubbling up his throat at her escape attempt. 

He’s never felt like such a muppet in his life. He needs to feed her, warm her up, but he has nothing here, just some granola bars and breakfast tea, no blanket, she was already shivering. 

He could bully her into his home if he really wanted to, it’s just down the road...strip her down and dry her off.

She’s halfway to the door when he breaks out of his thoughts, damn near sputtering like a drowning man. “Wait.” 

And much to his pleasure she stops on a dime, yielding easily to his voice. “Not going out there by yourself, absolutely not.” he huffs, stomping over to her, snagging his jacket from the rack beside the door and slinging it over her shoulders. He was being too much, he knows, opening the door for her and covering her with his umbrella as he ushers her to her home, taking the brunt of the rain just to keep her covered. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, need. 

“This is very kind of you” Paloma tells him, voice grown timid, but she stops short, cold little hands giving his forearm a tug, “but we can at least share.” She presses in close, the pair now walking shoulder to shoulder in the cool summer rain. He has to clear his throat to stop the rumbling purr deep in his chest. 

“Too sweet for your own good” he murmurs, biting back a grin when she doesn’t hear him the first time. He changes tactics smoothly. 

“I said, what on earth were you doing down there?”

“Oh, just trying to give everything a go. I won’t know I like something until I give it a try right? Plus everyone here seems to need a hand, I’m just happy to help.” she smiles up at him. And John really thinks this sweet girl may stick around, not because he wants her too, but because she wants too, with a heart too big to fail. He decides he’ll help her with anything if she just asks. Hell, even if she doesn’t.

They chat idly the rest of the way, boots squelching on the muddy dirt path. He learns she’s quite the reader , and crafter, and a myriad of other things, having shoved her fingers into every pie she’s come across. He tells her about his past as a foreman, his stint in the military, his work with the museum since the earthquake, and it tickles him with how intently she listens, nodding along to his every word.  

Before he knows they’ve arrived, the soft glow of her porch lantern guiding them in, and part of him wishes she lived just a little farther away, if only to steal some extra time. 

He guides her up the steps, his hand in hers, standing dutifully as she fishes out her key and steps inside. Safe.

He’s only a little flustered when she shrugs off his jacket and swings it back over his shoulders, his height causing her to fumble a little. Shrouding him in petrichor and blueberry sugar.

“Right,” he coughs “You get warmed up, and lock this behind you, didn’t walk you home for something else to get you.” He taps at her door seriously. 

“Yes sir.” she chimes, and his stomach swoops. Fingers itching to dig into warm soft skin, he was being tested, he was certain of it. 

“John, lovie, call me John.”

“Okay John, be safe” she smiles, waving goodbye with a shy wiggle of her fingers. He has to make himself turn away,  waits to hear the click of her lock before trotting down her steps. 

John purrs the whole way home. 

[brightestlulu]

phewwww this took me awhillleee

i didnt want to colour them properly but i think the monochrome is more fun anyways

got a few characters ive never drawn before so they might not look as good

i think i like how pudding, dellinger, and doffy came out the most :P

[offsidenewsco]

Have you ever seen someone in online hockey communities say that Vancouver Canucks defenceman Quinn Hughes has “eldest daughter syndrome?” Or heard people call Toronto Maple Leafs forward Mitch Marner “the first male victim of misogyny?”

In this 3-part series, Avery Beaumont unpacks masculinity in #NHL hockey, how it's developed over the past decade, and how that has changed hockey fanbases forever.

Read Part I here.

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

Johnny (12th November)

One Piece

[kagemorijin]

found a secondhand but unused bag

[future-supertuna]

this is very in-text but i love that zoro gets attuned to kiku from the get-go not only because of this sword wielder code that he's followed through all extremes of the practice, from brook to kin'emon -- recognizing and respecting all masters -- but because her existence is the solid evidence, the living proof that kuina was wrong

[temeyes]

nah your small doodli booblies came in my dream as minions and they were eating bananas😭

may the 141 minions haunt you every night

bonus Price as Gru,,,,,,, AHSHASHAHSH