JJBA x Reader One-Shots

{NSFW} Ride 'Em, Cowboy - Johnny x Reader

Heyyyyyyy! Contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead! I got major writing burnout for a while and had other shit going on in my life. But now I have that itch to write again and I wanna write more Jojo! So, I'm back with a Johnny one-shot peace offering.

I also wanna say I'm opening requests for a limited time. First five people to request something will get what they want. I am a woman of my word.

MOVING ON! ENJOY JOHNNY FIC!

Warnings: This is smut. This is dirty, nasty Johnny smut. If you don't like that, don't read it. If you do, please enjoy!

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"Johnny Joestar? Hmm, that rings a bell..."

You swirl the drink in your hand as you reminisce about the last time that name had been in the papers. An accident. Poor thing went and got himself shot. He'd been promising, too. Oh, well. Less competition in the race, you supposed.

"Yeah. He's joined the Steel Ball Run race!"

Well, there goes that notion.

You give the man beside you an inquisitive look. He's a stranger, but decent enough company for the night. The smug smirk on his face is starting to piss you off, though.

"Ain't he paralyzed?" You ask.

The man shrugs. "He's crazy if he thinks he can ride with no legs. But, hey, better luck for the rest of us!"

The stranger leans to his side and nudges your arm with his. A splash of your drink tumbles out of your glass; it spills over your thumb and onto the bar. You stare at the liquid on the counter.

"Oops," the stranger says, "I'll buy you another."

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and place your glass down. "No need. I'm going to bed."

The man is whining some cheap protests in an effort to get you to stay. You're positive he must not be able to hear how pathetic he sounds. You certainly hope so, at least. No self-respecting man should be begging like that. You ignore him as you exit the bar.

It's a short walk to your tent, but something tells you to take the long way. You walk past a few more bars, all abuzz with activity as everyone gets in their final hurrah before the race begins. The sounds begin to quiet down as you make your way towards the pastures.

One of the horses is still awake. It's white and covered in small, grey speckles. You wonder why it isn't in a stable, wonder why it isn't resting for the next day's events. You approach with caution as the horse circles the riding ring.

That's when you see him. The very man you'd just been talking about - the legendary Johnny Joestar - being dragged around by this horse. Johnny's hand holds tightly to the stirrup, but he looks like he has no more energy. It's pitiful to watch. Yet, you can't tear your eyes away.

Johnny doesn't seem to notice you. His eyes are shut as he holds onto his horse. Is he even awake? You lean against the fence and wonder if he's somehow fallen asleep in this situation. The horse drags him through the dirt, unphased by his presence.

"You look real intimidating on the ground, Mr. Joestar," you tease into the night.

You aren't expecting him to hear you - aren't expecting him to reply. But he does. Johnny hears you, and to that, he says, "Fuck off."

His response catches you by surprise and you laugh. He's scowling, but you can't see it. He's on the other side of the ring, courtesy of his horse. You stifle some of your laughter with your hand, but this does little to ease Johnny's ire.