#johnny and v core

[nightcity-scrapbook]

Entry 15: Get a look at this goofy ahh gonk thinking he's about to take the wheel. Move aside choom. Last time you got in a car you were skezzed-out and crashed. The audacity of this digi-ghost strikes again...

[nightcity-scrapbook]

Mum said it's MY turn on the biochip. How else will I be able to happily make hundreds of fun but mostly gonked choices?

You know what would really fix me?

Having the consciousnesses of a rock star terrorist implanted into my brain so whenever I'm about to do something stupid they can egg me on.

[xxknoxvixenxx]

pt. 2 of v’s favourite “off duty” knox looks 💋

[mail-me-a-snail]

silvervance...but what if they were doggies. have u ever considered that.

and ofc bonus doggy in spirit johnny

[swearingcactus]

iasip redraws that i kept saying i’ll do :) featuring kerry and johnny’s brainstorming SAMURAI merch, Kerry’s first reaction to "PONPON SHIT - Us Cracks Official MV", lil v being lil v, and the ideal silvervdyne dynamic (horny bisexual men ready to fuck nasty to improvise a solution to a problem they created themselves)

[jaxxsoxxn]

*Shaking like a rapid dog* Nonononono cuz listen, V AND JOHNNY WOULDN'T MEET THEY WOULDN'T MEET IF NOT VS DEATH

Sosososo it's tragic, ofc it is, but it's tragic in "it will never go any other way" tragic

It was always supposed to be like that, they technically shouldn't have met at all, but they got cursed by meeting just to die, they got cursed by loving just to die.

They never could've walked out of it alive, they were doomed from the start till the end,

THEY WERE DEAD FROM THE BEGINNING!! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN CHANGE IT IN ANY WAY???

Because that's all you are, even if you can influence it, you can never make it right - there's no right to make

But which life would be worse, to meet and love to death or never meet to begin with?? You are doomed not because it's the way things have to go, but because to meet someone like that you have to let the things go that way.

And how could you not want to meet him, how could you not want to go trough it all again when it ended up being worth it.

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

so uuuh. some headcanons abt lola because we can never have enough of them

everything she knows about womanhood and love, she learned from her mother.

her father is violent and imposing, very proud and convinced about "being one of the last real men"

her mother often reminds lola of how beautiful she was when she was younger, before he got married and gave birth

(see lola's voiceline "i'm so old, my life is almost over!")

she also learnt from her mother that love means it doesn't matter how bad they treat you, you have to stay

but she also learnt that being in a relationship will always be about a man dictating a woman's life and having all the power over her, which. she didn't like one bit

especially when she reached high school (she wasn't at bullworth in her freshman year) and she saw some of her girl schoolmates

so, since she also knew for sure that men always want one thing from women (do we really need to say what that thing is?), she used the only power she thought women really have to gain control of her surroundings, as long as she is still young and beautiful enough

on one side, she adores the way johnny adores her, puts her on a pedestal, takes care of her in wall they ways she can't of herself

and sometimes it's also cute that he hits and fights any other guy who goes as far as laying his eyes on her one second too long

but she hates how he questions her every move and how he wants to know about all of her friends and about where she is all the time - it feels a bit too close to that power dynamic she was trying to avoid the whole time

but at the same time. they can't leave. she is no quitter and neither is johnny. so she tries to grab his attention and let him see - do you see how easily you could lose me? do you see how much i have the power to drive you crazy if i just want to?

very very unhealthy and purposefully destructive if you ask me. but that's what we do around here innit

in general she doesn't trust men. just- no.

there's only one human being who belongs in the masculine area of the gender spectrum whom she trusts from her heart, him being peanut.

i know i mentioned it before, but the way she genuinely cares about him goes beyond comprehension

she does do a couple tricks on him from time to time; after all, she's still lola lombardi. plus peanut is a disaster in love, so making eyes at him only to pretend not knowing what he's talking about later is still amusing

but she really confides him everything. all of her fears and the moments when the emptiness she feels inside grows deeper, those rare times when she really cries; it's peanut that she calls.

they will meet up in the middle of the night just to run around the city together and ease their minds and just. smile a bit you know

the rumor that lefty spreads about her wanting to join a nunnery after high school. she meant it ironically. she just wanted to say that boys are so fucking annoying and oh god i might as well become a nun. SHE WASN'T SERIOUS. but lefty loooves to spread stupid and/or false rumors for the fun of it so she should've expected it

she only really has a good relationship with lefty, who is too chill to question his morals just chatting with someone, and vance, with whom she has a sort of understanding, compatibility you might say

ricky, hal and above everyone else lucky have a deep distrust towards her that, especially for the latter, turn into a more or less visible hostility

not that she cares really. she'll just mirror their attitude towards her or whatever

although she has a special reciprocal resentment with norton, which often turns into an intellectual fight about media analysis

mostly, it's a "she giggles and bats her eyelashes but she's really a devil in disguise" vs "he acts all tough and strong but he's really just a wimp" kind of dislike

she listens to lana del rey (or she would if the time was right. you get what i mean)

(also. electra heart by marina full album.mp3 playing in the background)

she starts studying ancient greek during her senior year

during the summer break galloway suggested her an edition of euripides' tragedies because he saw her so interested when they studied the iliad

at first she was like "thanks sir but no sir, i can choose my books for myself", but then she did check it out

the pipeline from there to repeating the alphabet every day before going to bed is short

(also she dived deeper into greek tragedy and she fell so deeply for clytemnestra)

she's scarily good at putting her makeup on. and by good i mean drawing her eyeliner while standing in a moving bus

i think it's implied in game (johnny's fighting audio “once i'm finished with you i'm gonna go home to lola”) but i'll say it here anyway: lola basically left her childhood home (not that her parents cared particularly) and lives with johnny

she used to go very much along with zoe

she did think she was a bit exaggerating about social issues and kinda mocked her for it, telling her she was her "queer feminist friend or whatever" (her words) but she did have some good times with her

it was heartbreaking when she left, and especially knowing the reason why; it was exactly the demonstration of what she always believed, that this world is naturally hostile to women and girls and justice is never the one on their side

not interested in motors but she loves the 50s aesthetics and fashion. even before she started wearing leather she used to have one of those swing skirts as school uniform

idolizes marilyn monroe and vivian leigh in particular

[imadhatt3r]

"Something about us" by daft punk is suuuuuch a SilverV song

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS SPECIFICALLY FOR GIG: THE MAN WHO KILLED JASON FOREMAN

Would someone lmk what Briana’s (the woman who lives in the stacks and gives you the quest at the start) reaction is if you kill Rinder? I had him call Regina and was just curious to know what the alternative would be. (She was obviously uhhhh not very happy)

[soaps-mohawk]

Good Friends Share Their Toys

Kyletober Day 10: Bukakke

Summary: It’s routine now. Your owners’ friends come over for dinner and then fuck you stupid.

Pairing: Poly 141 x Samoyed hybrid!reader

Word Count: 2,273 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, hybrids, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v sex, heat cycles, hints of breeding kinks, rough sex, bukakke, lots of cum, spanking (it's like twice), Johnny and his love of tits, reader has some features described since she's a hybrid, language

A/N: You're getting a special poly treat this time. Gotta show all the boys some love at least once this month (mostly just because I had this one written up before I decided on Kyletober and it's just too good not to share)

MASTERLIST

A gentle hand rubs your ear, a low groan rumbling in your chest from the pleasure as fingers press into the base where it connects to your head. It feels good, your mind beginning to float away thanks to the pleasant sensation. You don’t want it to stop, your head continuing to lean into the hand as it starts to pull away. 

A sharp tug on your tail brings you back. 

You yelp, your hips bucking forward to try and escape while it tucks between your legs. Chuckles erupt around you, warm hands spreading your ass cheeks. 

“C’mon sweetheart, lift that tail back up. Let them see your pretty cunt.” 

You do as your owner says, lifting your tail until it’s curled up, the fluffy tip brushing against your lower back. It’s his hand that’s in your hair, rubbing at your ears. You’re bent over the kitchen table, ass on display for his two friends. It’s a routine now. Every weekend they come over and have dinner, drink a few beers, then fuck you stupid.

Your owner just wants to share his cute little hybrid with them. 

You can hardly complain. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon breathes as Kyle, your owner’s boyfriend, spreads your cheeks, putting your drooling pussy on display. “Needy little thing.” 

“She’s always wet this time of year.” Kyle says. “Humping our legs like the needy pup she is.” 

“Screamin’ Jesus.” Johnny breathes, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. You know it’s him based on his touch. You know them all by touch and scent. 

A needy whine pushes past your lips as his fingers press against your clit, your hips pushing back against his hand. You’re desperate for some kind of relief after the hour you’ve sat waiting in anticipation for this moment leaking all over your thighs and the cute little skirt your owner dressed you in. 

That skirt is now on the floor, along with your shirt. You rarely bother with constricting undergarments, usually only when you leave the house with your owners. They hardly complain, especially when your skirt lifts up when you stretch. 

“Let me see her tits.” Johnny says, pulling his hand away from your throbbing core. 

You let out a whine of indignation until a gentle tug on your collar redirects your focus. You push yourself up, following the guiding hands until you’re perched on the edge of the table, naked before them except for your collar. It’s pink, like most of your belongings. It’s the perfect color for you, your owner had said. Matches your fluffy white hair. 

Johnny groans as you sit on display for him, his hands immediately going for your breasts. Johnny loves your breasts. Says so every time he sees them. 

“Fuckin’ love yer tits, pup.” He says, his hands cupping them. 

You let out a gasp as his thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples, more slick seeping out of you to coat your thighs. You gasp again as fingers tug at your collar, your owner entering your peripheral. 

“Be polite and say thank you.” He says. 

“Thank you, Johnny.” You whine as his mouth closes around one of your nipples, suckling it with his lips. 

Johnny groans around your nipple, switching between circling the sensitive bud with his tongue and suckling on it. You can smell the arousal in the air, thick and musky from the four men. Johnny’s erection brushes your thigh as he switches breasts, giving the other the same treatment. 

“Ye ever considered breeding her.” He asks, his fingers dipping between your legs again. They drag through the soft curls before they reach your slit, pushing up against your clit.  

“Why, you wanna be greedy and drink her milk?” Simon asks. 

Johnny groans around your nipple, two of his fingers pressing against your hole. You’re more than ready for him, your body opening up to the two thick digits as they press inside of you. 

“You sure you’re not a hybrid?” Kyle asks, his fingers trailing your spine as you arch your back, pressing your hips against Johnny’s hand. 

“His mum always jokes there was a hybrid somewhere in their family line.” Simon says. “Needy little mutt.” 

Your hips jerk and you let out a high pitched moan as Johnny’s fingers push against that spot inside of you. Johnny curses against your breast, suckling on your nipple as he moves his fingers slowly in and out of you. You’re soaking his hand, slick dribbling out of you and coating his skin from the torturously slow pace. He’s always softer, more careful than Simon. 

“Fucking sweet cunt.” Johnny groans as he pulls his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his mouth to lick your juices off. You let out a whine as you watch his tongue wrap around his fingers. You want that tongue inside of you, but you know that’s for Kyle later after Johnny and Simon have left. 

“Cannae fuckin’ stand it anymore.” Johnny says, hastily undoing his belt and dropping his pants. His cock is hard and standing at attention, making your pussy flutter in anticipation. 

Your tail is wagging as he steps up to you, a smile tugging at your lips from excitement. He lets out another curse as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. His head pushes against your hole, your hips pushing down to try and slip him inside of you. The neediness is almost too much to bear as your pussy clenches in anticipation.

He takes his time, pushing his cock into you, rocking his hips slowly, inch by inch. His hands hold your hips steady as you try to push down on him, trying to take him all in one go. You can, you’ve done it before. Your body is begging to be bred, and it’s ready and waiting. They can’t breed you though. Your owner won’t let them. You’re his sweet, precious puppy. He’s far too possessive to allow just anyone to pump you full of pups. 

Johnny’s hips jerk as you squeeze around him, pushing his cock fully inside of you. Your head falls back with a moan at the stretch, the ache beneath your skin finally being relieved from the way Johnny’s cock fills you up. 

“Bloody hell.” Simon groans, shifting to watch Johnny’s hips push up against yours. 

Johnny’s arms hold you up as he begins thrusting into you, pushing your breasts up against his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he braces a hand behind you on the table. His thrusts are slow but deep, hips dragging against your clit. You let out little whines and moans, pressing the side of your head against his. 

“Fucking Christ.” He breathes, his fingers dig into your side, his hips grinding against you. 

You wrap your legs around him as he pulls you closer to the edge of the table, bracing yourself as his hands drop to your ass, using your body as leverage as he thrusts desperately into you. His musky scent fills your nose, making your pussy clench needily. Your body is begging to be bred, begging to be fucked, begging for any relief from the torturous heat pulsing between your thighs. 

You tighten your legs around him, pushing him closer to your body. It’s not enough, it’s never enough this time of year. 

He lets out a string of curses as he forces himself away, untangling your body from around him. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, trying to stop himself from cumming too soon.

You let out a pathetic sounding whimper, a glob of slick dripping out of you and sliding down your ass onto the table. Johnny watches it go, letting out a whimper himself as he desperately tries to keep himself from cumming.  

“Don’t want to waste that just yet.” Simon says, stepping past him and up to you. “Over.” He says, smacking your thigh. 

You yelp scrambling to turn back over and bend over the table. Your tail starts wagging again in excitement as Simon pulls your cheeks apart, staring down at your clenching pussy. His hand smacks against the sensitive skin, a near yowl leaving your lips as your hips buck against the table. More slick dribbles out, coating his hand as he pushes his fingers into you. 

“Fucking needy little bitch.” He says, his belt clinking as he undoes his pants. 

He presses his fingers as deep as they’ll go, his palm pushing against your ass. You moan, pushing back against his fingers in anticipation. You like how rough he is with you, such a contrast to how the other three treat you. You’re their little princess, but sometimes you want them to be rough with you. 

That’s why you like Simon so much. 

“Come on.” He says, tugging on your tail lightly until you push up onto your toes, pressing yourself further against the table. “Good girl.” 

You beam at the praise, tail brushing your lower back as it wags back and forth. Simon chuckles, dragging his hands up your arched back as the head of his cock pushes against your hole. You press back as he presses in, sliding into you easily thanks to Johnny stretching you out and your copious slick. 

Your clit is pushed up right against the edge of the table as he begins thrusting into you. His hips snap against your ass, driving you into the side of the table with every thrust. Your legs are already shaking from the pressure against your clit, the table creaking as he drives his body against yours. You're glad your owner reinforced it months ago during one of his handyman kicks. 

Simon’s hands press against your back, forcing you flat on the table. You turn your head, staring at your owner as he stands there watching. His pants are down around his knees, his cock in hand as he jerks it slowly, his eyes glued to where Simon’s hips push up against your ass. You can hear the wet sound of the other two jerking off as well, Johnny groaning quietly somewhere behind you. 

The wet squelch of your pussy nearly drowns them out, slick dribbling down your thighs as Simon pushes you closer and closer to the edge. 

You let out a whine as Simon pulls out of you, his hands gripping your hips to flip you around so you’re seated on the edge of the table again. He thrusts back into you, keeping the same rough pace as before. His fingers hook under the front of your collar, holding your head straight so you’re looking up into his eyes. Those chocolate eyes stare down into your own dark ones, an almost possessive look in them. 

Your ears are plastered flat against your head as he continues to pound into you, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands grip Simon’s forearms as he thrusts wildly into you, his tip pushing up against that spot inside of you with every thrust in. 

“Please, please please!” You squeal, legs shaking uncontrollably as you get closer and closer to the edge. 

He doesn’t let up, he doesn’t slow down as he continues to hit that spot inside of you over and over, his eyes still locked with yours. 

Your body spasms as you cum, gushing around his cock. Your ears ring with the force of your orgasm, your eyes rolling back as you nearly fall back against the table. Simon’s arms hold you up, his cock still thrusting into you, dragging out your orgasm as much as he can. 

He finally pulls himself free of you, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. The hand gripping your collar guides you onto the floor. Your legs are still shaking from your orgasm as you drop to your knees, sitting back on your heels. 

You be a good girl and open your mouth for them, Simon and Johnny stepping up first. Simon’s tip presses right against your tongue and you can taste yourself right on his cock. He jerks his cock a couple of times before he cums, spilling into your mouth. He’s salty and musky on your tongue, rich just like his scent. Johnny is right next to him, his cock pushing against the side of your mouth as he eagerly spurts across your lips and into your mouth, finally getting his release. He’s salty and almost bitter, from all the fast food Simon says he eats. 

They take a few steps back, still pumping their cocks as your owner and his boyfriend take their places. Kyle gets to go first, pushing his cock against your tongue as he adds to the mixture already sitting on your tongue. He has a slightly sweet tang to him, the taste almost addicting. He’s had to pull you off his cock a few times from overstimulation because you tried sucking the soul out of him. Or at least that’s what he always says. 

Your owner is last, pushing his cock into your mouth as he cums, the musky and rich taste of him blending into the others. His taste isn’t all that different from Simon’s, more musky than rich. 

You sit there for a moment, holding their cum in your mouth before you close your lips, swallowing it down. The viscous cocktail slides down your throat, coating your taste buds with the blend of their scents and flavors. 

“Good girl.” Your owner praises you, petting your sweaty hair. “Such a good girl.” 

Your tail wags as you sit there, beaming from his praise. You are a good girl. Always their good girl. 

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[novemberheart]

{overview} you reach a new milestone with Johnny and Simon, you have a bad dream

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141, mentions of death, panic attacks, mentions of bruising and pain, cursing, p in v sex (not related to the violence warnings), exhibition, you like being watched I guess….

Chapter 25 <- Chapter 26 -> Chapter 27

“Push your knee against me like that. It's easier to grab a foot or a hand than a knee,” Johnny explained, moving your knee towards his shoulder. He had some downtime and you had the energy to burn so he settled on teaching you a few self-defense moves.

“I don't think these are actually moves,” you panted. You had just spent the better part of twenty minutes being thrown around like a ragdoll. When you agreed to this you assumed it would lead to more with Johnny- much more. Yet here he was, his eyes laser-focused, using a tone that could rival Simons.

“People aren't going to expect you to know how to fight back. So you are going to have around five seconds of surprise- even more if they aren't trained,” Johnny moved you onto your stomach, gripping your arms with his hands so they were pressed against the mat. You peeked in the mirror along the gym wall, your hips raising slightly at the sight of him hovering over you.

Who knew you liked mirrors so much?

You had been wearing scent blockers, your hips raising being the only sign thus far of how this was making you feel. His mouth fell open, his eyes landing on your bottom that your gym shorts really didn't hide. You smirked, using all your body weight to swing your legs to the side, effectively knocking him over with a thud. Just like he had taught you. You scrambled up running to the edge of the mat. He had drilled into your head to run as soon as you could and even made you practice getting up in any position- which felt silly at the time but made sense now. He chuckled, the vibrations of it going straight to your core even though your distance. You smiled, prancing back over to him.

“That was very good,” he praised, his eyes lighting up to match yours.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. He purred under your touch. He was still kneeling before you, his arms wrapping under your bottom. He hoisted you up easily, and you craned your neck down with your teeth grazing over his bottom lip. He bit back. He slid your body against his, so you didn't have to bend so far, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips ghosted over each other, waiting for the other to give in. A standoff. Your fingers played with the grown-out pieces of his mohawk, a small whine leaving your throat as you flashed him with your softest puppy dog eyes. He growled, smashing his lips against yours.

“I won,” you gasped between attacks.

“Did you?” he smirked, his lips quickly devouring you again.

“Bloody hell, you two. Get a room,” Simon growled. The task force had the gym booked, even with half of it missing. “Anyone could walk by and see you,” he reprimanded. Which was funny given the position the two of you were in last night.

“Yeah, any perv,” Johnny agreed, eyeing the alpha up and down. You giggled, pressing kisses against the Scot's jaw, nipping at the corner of his lips. He let you do as you please, his hazy, melted eyes staring down at you. Simon stood still, not quite able to pull his eyes away from the sight himself. He watched the way Johnny’s chest heaved up and down, his lips parting open as you marked him up. The look of determination on your face and the way your lips moved against his heated skin. The fact he had felt the softness of your mouth yesterday, he could imagine you against his skin. He watched as Johnny’s hands gripped your thighs, the softness pooling around his fingers. One small movement from you would have you secured against the heavy bulge the fabric of his workout shorts was doing a poor job covering.

“Johnny?” Simon spoke. His half-lidded deep blue eyes met his. “Take care of your omega,” it was commanded. The life re-entered Johnny's eyes, your back colliding with the wall before you knew it. You gasped, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. All the control you had flying out the window.

“Mac,” you whined, your hips rolling against him. He pressed back harder, a shaky moan leaving you, the vibration going straight down his spine. Your hands crept down his strong stomach, clawing at the waistband of his shorts.

“Can’t take you here, Bonnie,” he growled, making you whimper.

“I don't care,” you purred in assurance. The new position had you blocked by a shelf and all someone had to do was look at Simon's heavy figure and know not to enter. “Please,” you begged, your hands sliding up his shirt. You could feel his warm skin twitch under you, short and soft coils of hair brushing against your palms. Your hands left his skin, beginning to tug at your own shorts. He looked over his shoulder at Simon, who nodded his head. You watched as Simon disappeared, walking over to the door. You could hear the lock click. You had won. You attached your lips to his and Johnny set you down to slide your shorts and panties off, chuckling at the wet spot in them. He tossed the pair behind him, Simon's hand catching them and sticking them in his pocket. You chewed your lip, Simon's hazy eyes meeting yours. You were dragged away when Johnny lifted you up again, your core rolling against his cock through the fabric of his shorts.

Your mouth fell open, your head resting against the chill of the wall. “Johnny, please,” you whined again, your fingers gripping at his shoulders. He was enjoying this too much. Enjoying the way you squirmed and begged for some help.

“What, baby? Couldn't hear you?” he murmured, making you growl. His hand slapped against your thigh to check you, his hand pressing against the spot to help ease the sting. “Still couldn't hear you,” he corrected. “Don't be shy,” he soothed, his lips resting against your cheek, nipping at the burning flesh. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. You have to ask nicely though,” you wanted to bite the smirk off his face, but you knew you'd never get what you wanted then.

“I want you,” you mumbled quietly, your eyes trained on Simon’s shoes.

“Alright,” Johnny seemed satisfied with that until he started to put your feet on the floor to kiss down to your heat.

“No,” you whined, pulling him back up. He hoisted you back up, his face showing all the patience in the world. He could play this game with you all day. “I want your cock,” you said finally, making sure to say it loud enough to where he wouldn't play dumb. The deep rumble echoed off of both men, shooting straight through you. “Please,” you finished. You had a reputation for being their good girl- you couldn't break that by demanding.

“Well how can I say no to that,” Johnny smiled down at you. He distracted you with his lips and it wasn't until the head of his cock caught against your entrance did you realize one of his hands had left you. You gasped, pulling away enough to look down at him. It matched him, stout and energetic- twitching in his hand. He pushed in slowly, your legs already quivering. He was so responsive. Curving into all the right places, throbbing in time with your spasming walls. It felt so intimate even though you were pushed against the hard gym wall. Your toes curled in your shoes. He wanted to say something. Say how good you felt, how beautiful you looked, yet all he could do was groan his hips snapping into place. Your moan caught in your throat, your head lulling against the wall.

“How’s she feel?” Simon grunted. You had forgotten about him as he leaned against the shelf. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him but just knowing he was there made you clench around Johnny, the words he was trying to say catching in his throat once again.

He settled for a purr, sending a vibration through your body. You twitched, your hips pressing harder against him. That’s how John must've felt when you purred around him. “Perfect,” Johnny finally managed to choke out. His mouth attached to your shoulder where your tank top strap had fallen. His thrusts were hard and slow, without a set rhythm but that somehow added to the pleasure. His cock would drag against your walls only for him to roll himself back in with one hard fluid motion. He'd hold himself inside you letting you feel every throb and vein, only to drag himself back out, repeating the process whenever he wanted.

You were a mess. Teary eyes, hair disheveled, clinging onto him as the force of his thrusts knocked you into the wall. Your hand pressed against your mouth to stifle your moans. Normally they hated that, but considering you were in a semi-public place they'd let it slide. His pace picked up, your arms gripping around his neck, his mouth pressing against any skin he could reach. It was almost torture. The two of being so close, yet he couldn't feel the softness of your skin against his. He growled, his hips deciding a set rhythm. He had played with his food enough.

“I can't,” you gasped, your face burying in his shoulder. Your hands gripping onto his shoulder blades.

“Doing so good, Bon,” Johnny assured through his own groans. You could tell Johnny was as vocal as you, and was also trying hard to stifle it. You wondered how loud he could get. A pair of fingers brushed over your knuckles. It was Simon. You reached forward your hand tangling with his, as you felt the ascension of a familiar peak. You whined Johnny’s name, pressing your heated cheek against his. “You’re almost there, beautiful. I can feel it,” he snarled against you. “Feels so fucking good,” his voice dropped to a whine, holding onto you equally hard. Simon raised his mask, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. You held his gaze as much as you could with the stars clouding your vision. You shook your head again. Your heat had made your orgasms more tolerable- less intense so your body could preserve its stamina. You didn't have that to fall back upon. “Relax,” Johnny repeated against your temple, your cunt nearly pushing him out. “We’ve got you, just let go,” he murmured, his muscles shaking from pleasure. “I’ve got you baby, come on,” he pressed, not being able to hold on much longer himself.

You felt too good. Your pussy shaking around him, so wet and and warm. Your breathy moans in his ear. The fact anyone could come in and find you like this. It didn't excite him in the way he thought it would. It made him more possessive. You were theirs. No one else deserved to see such a sight. He could sense Simon behind him, the alpha offering enough protection where he could turn his brain off and focus on you.

The knot in your stomach finally shattered, your vision lighting up behind your shut eyes. You shouted, but nobody could find it in them to care, not with your head thrown back like that. Johnny pressed himself impossibly deep, holding your shaking form so you wouldn't be separated from him. He was a ball of curses and groans, his grip on you sure to leave bruises.

He rested against you, you sandwiched between him and the wall. Both of you were panting- mixing with moans and whimpers. Everything felt too much. The aftershock in your veins, the bright lights, the hard wall. You wanted to curl up under the covers and breathe in Johnny’s cinnamon scent. Simon cleared his throat, his pupils blown as he scanned you and Johnny up and down.

“Come on, pups,” he spoke softly. You smiled at the plural version of your nickname. Simon grabbed your shorts off the floor, his hands resting on Johnny’s shoulders. “Let's get you two cleaned up and back home, yeah?” he hummed. Your eyes widened as Simon placed a kiss on the back of Johnny's neck, mumbling out small praises at how well he took care of you. You both squirmed as he pulled out of you, his spend immediately dripping down your leg. The two men groaned.

“Round two at home, bonnie?” Johnny smirked, kissing your burning cheek.

Round two indeed took place at home. Your butt resting on the counter in your bathroom as Johnny worked himself in and out of you. Simon was too busy with his ear pressed against the door, his hand working in time with your moans.

It felt like hours before the shower finally turned on.

You giggled as Johnny massaged lotion into your feet, his lips pressing against the ball of your foot.

“You and John both have a thing for feet,” you teased, expecting him to jump into denial. He just smiled, his thumb working deep into the tense tissue.

“Maybe we do, Bon,” he said slowly. “At least you get foot massages out of it,” he smirked, pressing a kiss against the top of them.

Guess you didn't have room to complain.

“Whose room are we sleeping in?” he questioned, moving to stand from his seat on the coffee table. You were about to say Kyle's but the back of your neck tingled at the sight of Simon’s closed door. Johnny followed your gaze. His face spread in a grin that made you nervous.

“No, Johnny it’s fine,” you insisted. His arm wrapped under your bottom, lifting you to his chest. He held you against him, your head hiding in his shoulder as he knocked on Simon's door. You heard a muffled sound, Johnny not waiting for a clear answer as he opened the door.

“Pup wants to sleep in here,” Johnny sighed like he was doing you a favor.

“It’s okay Simon”-

“You have your jellyfish?” was his response. Johnny gasped in remembrance, tossing you onto Simon's bed. It was amazing you didn't accidentally elbow him in the face with how much of it he took up. Johnny disappeared, heading towards your room to get the stuffed jelly. You had forgotten it when you went on leave and had a harder time falling asleep without it. You had grown a bit codependent on its softness against your cheek to fall asleep.

Johnny came bounding back, tossing himself onto the bed.

“Always forget how shite your mattress is,” Johnny grumbled. He tucked both of you under the covers with Simon, his body curling around yours as the big spoon. Simon shifted and you heard the rattling of a pill bottle.

“Take some of these. You'll be sore later if you aren't already,” he sighed, his thumb brushing over your chin. You opened, his eyes trained on your kiss-bitten lips. He held his water bottle up for you to wash them down with. Simon popped a few in his mouth.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you questioned. He shook his head.

“He’s a big boy, bonbon. Aches and pains are his middle name,” Johnny smirked, his lips pressing on the back of your ear. You giggled as his scruff brushed against your neck. Simon relaxed back into the bed, his arm and shoulder pressed against your front. You wanted to rest your head against him, but didn't want to invade his space too much- although you felt like you had already passed that point.

You could feel yourself fading fast. If the three different orgasms pulled out of you weren't enough then the feeling of being the safest pup in the world was the cherry on top. The best sleep you had ever gotten had been that night you were curled up with John and Kyle. You wondered if this would be similar. You didn't know if it was the beta-alpha pairing that made it work so well or just the fact you trusted the both of them.

You rumbled in a quiet purr, Johnny immediately responding with his own.

It was pouring. The onslaught makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open. Your chest hurts, and the cold water, despite its power, does nothing to get your nervous system back on track.

You felt sad. The sadness felt more suffocating than the rain that was drenching your clothes. Why hadn’t you worn your raincoat? You feel like you knew the answer to that, yet couldn't find the perseverance to dig around in your brain for it.

Maybe the yellow felt too happy for this type of day.

A hand gripped your shoulder. It wasn't gentle. It wasn’t warm or comforting. It was angry- maybe at you, maybe at the world. “Time to go,” it snapped. You recognized it as John. It made you feel sicker, a bubbling anger rising in your chest. Why were you so mad at him? Why was he so mad? He looked worse than when he had left. His eyes are nearly swollen shut from tears and rubbing at them. His face looked older. How long had he been gone? Or had emotions aged him? His hand fell to your forearm, the tips of his finger bound to leave marks against your skin.

Your feet splashed against the ground as he tugged you along. The rushing water makes it hard to walk. How long has it been raining? Every step forward felt like three steps back. If it wasn't for John you would have fallen, and the water would have swept you away by now. A slight warmness fills you at the idea.

“I don't want to go,” you say before you can stop yourself. Your voice is small and weak. He hears you despite the rushing of water.

“You think I want to?” he growls back. It was mean and nasty- his voice and look in his eyes. You whimpered. You’re continually pulled along the flat concrete. There are no trees, no green, just gray as far as the eye can see. Your knees give out, and you can feel the concrete break your skin. A small plea leaves you. A plea of mercy for John to be gentle with you. He wasn't. He growls low in his throat, yanking you up with no patience or fondness in his bones. You shriek, your arm creaking under his grasp. He pays no mind. There's a building in the distance. Gray and square just like the buildings at base. You’re sobbing now. You aren't sure if it’s from fright or exhaustion. His hand digs into the hair around the base of your neck, pulling you forward. You were moving too slow. Your sobs are louder than the rain by the time you reach the building. John throws open the doors. The inside was beautiful, resembling a church. Every seat was filled, each and every person's head snapping behind them to look at the two of you. You don't know any of them, but they all look familiar.

They were waiting for you. John pulls you along the aisle, your eyes landing towards the front. You fall to your knees again, your hands grappling with the legs of people or chairs to keep from advancing. John is jerking you forward by the back of your dress, your body shaking against the carpet. Shrieks and sobs escape you, yet no one comes to help you. In fact, they aren't even looking at you. Once you make it to the front John tosses you against the steps of the stage, your chin colliding with one. You sob against them. You couldn’t breathe. Your heart ached so painfully in your chest all you could do was lay there. There was a mean kick to your legs. Your head finally raised, your eyes landing on an oak casket, half covered by a Union Jack. Your hands reach forward gripping onto the fabric. It pools around you as it falls to the floor.

You don't need to be told. You know who’s in there.

You gasp awake, four pairs of hands holding onto you. You shake in their grasp and they quickly release you.

“Easy, Bonnie,” Johnny soothes. You couldn't breathe, the lightness in the room burning your eyes. Your hands run over your wet face as you sit up trying to take in your surroundings as your eyes adjust. An arm wraps around you, trapping your arms and back against a chest. You fight against it and lose.

“Relax, pup. You're alright,” it was Simon, his chin resting on your shoulder. The smell of alpha fills your nostrils, your brain immediately gives into it- too distraught to do anything else. They both sigh in relief when you relax against him.

“Where is Kyle?” you croak. They share a look.

“He left with John, baby,” Johnny reminded, pulling your legs into his lap.

“Is he okay?” you whimper, tears beginning to descend again.

“Something happen to him in your dream?” Johnny asked.

“Is he okay?” you repeat desperately.

“He’s alright,” Simon affirms to you. The pressure slows your heart rate, and your breathing automatically syncs with his. “I can try to get him on the phone for you. It'll be early morning where they are,” Simon explains, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

You would do anything to hear his voice. Even if it meant waking him up. Simon lays down with you still in his arms, and Johnny goes to turn the light off. You were thankful Simon had given you those pain pills. Without them, the throb in your body would be worse.

Your cheek rests against Johnny’s, his scruff a welcoming contrast to your soft skin. His large hand takes up half your face and neck as his thumb brushes the tears out from under your eyes. You let yourself sink fully into both of them.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled softly.

“Never apologize for loving us, Bon,” Johnny soothed instantly. Your heart lifted in your chest.

You couldn't help but feel fortunate. Your pack wasn't writing you off as sensitive or troublesome. Instead, they were protecting you. Assuring you. Protecting you from your own thoughts and assuring you they would be there with you along the way. Simon held the phone up and you quickly snatched it with a quick thanks.

“Kyky?” you breathed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sound of his groggy voice. You had woken him up.

“Hey, Lovie,” you could nearly see the smile in his voice. He wasn't mad at you. You buried yourself under Johnny, the phone pressed tightly against your ear. “Having trouble sleeping?” he murmured. You tried to imagine his breath on the back of your neck as he spoke or the way his hand liked to rest between your thighs as he slept.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “I had a bad dream. Just wanted to hear your voice,” you explained.

“Guess I should get talkin’ then,” he yawned. You were thankful he didn't ask what the dream was about. You could hear him adjust, the sound of metal creaking under him. You hated that his bed wasn't comfortable. He shouldn't be sleeping on metal bars and springs, he should be curled up in your nest with you. He talked about where he was- without giving you a location. He said it was mountainous and the perfect temperature. You knew for Kyle that meant hot. He told you about all the different birds and the sounds they made and how it made him think of you.

Your eyes grew heavy, your body erupting in a barely there purr.

Warmness flooded you as your pack once again took care of you.

Hello everyone! See you in three days for chapter 27! 🧡

[nightcity-scrapbook]

Entry 9: When there's drama at Denny's house, all ya gotta do isss 🎶walk awayyy-ayyy-ayyy 🎶

(Johnny refuses to elaborate but told me this'll be a hit from something called 'Vine'... He's laughing as I type this and won't let me delete it)

[brewed-pangolin]

Corner Lot Creamery

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader

MDNI 18+ Explicit smut, unprotected p in v, backseat sex, Soap being a vulgar little fiend, creampie if you look closely, just absolute filth

WC ~1.3k

Synposis: Everyone loves that new car smell. Except Soap. He prefers a more natural scent. Yours. And he knows just what to do to get that new leather lathered in it.

@glitterypirateduck @deadbranch this one's for you💛

Soap MacTavish is a simple man.

He appreciates quality over quantity. And prefers subtlety over indulgence in regards to the finer things in life.

This is nowhere more prominent than when he signs the down payment on a new 4Runner. Him being handed the keys, his mind already playing out the next strategic maneuvers needed to inact his plan while he aids you in effortlessly moving the belongings from one vehicle to the next.

"You alright, babe?" You ask. Glancing over your shoulder with a smile, scrutinizing the knowing grin etched in his lips.

"Aye. M'good, hen."

It was the simplicity and deep brogue of his reply that had your mind tumbling. The sound of his toolbox jiggling in the back not too dissimilar to the gears turning within your thoughts. Nestling the distinctive red Milwaukee chest in the corner, keeping it in place with his duffle bag that rarely left the vehicle's trunk.

"God. Is there anything better than new car smell?" You boast. Sliding into the passenger seat, the fresh leather molding to your frame, softened by the heat radiating from your skin.

His silence to you was unusual.

Soap was always a talker. Rarely going an hour without interjecting himself into any discussion, and more than comfortable putting his own view on any and all topics of the day.

Your eyes narrowed at him. Trying to decipher his unreadable expression; gaze focused on the road, barely a twitch to the corners of his lips. And his eyes, normally bright and expsoed in the midday sun, were darkened by his Ray-Bans, impeding your perusing stare.

"Johnny. What's going on with you?"

Almost instinctively, and with the speed and fluidity of a hardened servicemen, he reached out to wrap his hand around the flesh of your thigh. His unwavering stare focused on the road, his fingers traveling up the suppleness of your inner thigh, only to nestle between your legs and press his fingertips into the seam of your pants. Feeling the throb of arousal beneath the fabric, pulling a sinful whimper from your lips, adding the perfect amount pressure to the area around your clit.

"New car smell's fine, yeah. But I want somethin better," Soap growled. Pulling into a vacant parking lot, hurdling the sparkling new SUV into a corner spot with a dramatic jolt. Barely able to unfasten his own seat belt, his hands shaking with need, crawling into the backseat before grasping at your clothes to drag you back with him, an excited shriek erupting from your chest from his needy exuberance.

"M'gonnae make 'er smell like you, bonnie. Want yer scent on me, every time I get in 'er."

His hands were on you like a feverish fiend. Tearing your clothes away, fabric tossed to the back with reckless abandon as the scent of arousal permeated into the pours of fresh leather.

Silencing your protest with his mouth, tasting the sweetness of promiscuity on your tongue, exhaling a growl between your lips while he rocked his hips, grinding his hardened cock into your core, feeling the heat radiate over the fabric of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss with a wet pop, he fumbled with his belt, opening his pants with a determination you knew all too well. Thankful for the tinted windows and private brick cove of the parking lot. Not wanting to add indescent exposure to the days events as he moved to hover over your naked frame. Fully intent on christening his latest 4Runner with the spicy bouquet of sex.

With a focused purpose, Soap pierces your silken cunt with the throbbing hardness of his cock, devouring the moan escaping your throat with a heated kiss. Gliding his tongue in a sultry dance tandem with the languid roll of his hips.

"Gonnae make ya come...fuck...got'a make ya come, bonnie. Cannae pull out til ya fuckin clench 'round me."

If it wasn't the desperate plea echoing on a breathy growl, it was the steady and determined roll of his hips that ultimately sealed your fate in that parking lot.

The thick, spongy head of his cock kissing the sensitive wall of your cervix. Refusing to pull out entirely with every backward thrust, keeping himself buried within your velvety walls, pushing you towards overstimulation with every labored exhale. The metal carriage keeping the world at bay as your mind and body succumbed to climactic euphoria.

"Johnny..."

"Tha's it, hen. Come f'me. Feelin ya fuckin wrap 'round me."

Your orgasm moved with a chaotic symphony of gasps and moans.

Wanton and unadulterated.

Muffled by his lips, tangling with his animalistic growls. Legs wrapping around his waist to keep yourself grounded to reality for fear of drowning in the abyss of his own intrepid making.

The rhythmic roll of his hips steadily began to falter. Every forward push accentuated by a groan.

Gravelly and unfiltered.

Raw.

"F-fuck, bonnie. Gonnae come-...fill ya up. Make ya-...spill me outta ya."

You never tired of his vulgarity when he was on the cusp of emptying himself into your cunt.

He was breathless. Beautiful. And altogether beastly as a surge of warmth and pressure filled your canal. Prompting him to give one final thrust as your combined fluids dripped out of your fluttering hole and onto the maiden and unblemished leather beneath.

"Johnny-, you-, you're gonna stain the seats." You plead, attempting to push him off, halted when met with the weight of an immovable Scottish brick wall.

"Tha's th'fuckin point, lass. Gonnae mark 'er up wit ya. Douse 'er in tha' sweet fuckin scent a'yers."

You knew better than to deny him when he was like this. Hell bent on replacing that distinctive new car smell with the aromatic scent of sex and natural arousal.

Letting the quietness surround your conjoined bodies. Acting like a soothing blanket, ignoring the world outside to feel the qualitative euphoria in the afterglow.

Reluctant to move, Soap instead laid himself down and buried his head into your chest. Stifling a moan into your flesh, tilting to the side as he blanketed your naked body with his sculpted frame.

You realized then, gazing up onto the brickstone wall outside, that he had found refuge in the back parking lot of your favorite custard creamery. The familiar font gracing the red barrier catching your eye, exhaling a quiet moan of contentment, watching it rustle over the Scots distinguishable mohawk.

"What?" He breathed. Voice low, muffled against the supple flesh of your breast.

"I think I've thought of a name for her."

"Aye? Wha's tha'?"

You let the silence hang for a moment. Allowing his mind to settle on suspicion, tilting his head to rest his chest between the valley of your breasts.

"Well? Wha' is it, lass?"

"How about CeeDee? Cookie Devil. Our nickname at Culver's, to where you just so happened to park us."

Soap lifted his head, taking a quick glance at the signage above. Replying with a perplexed brow, softening his expression with a gentle yet appreciative grin.

"Aye. Cannae lie, hen. Kinda like it."

You smiled at his approval. Cupping his face to bring him in for a kiss. His lips still reddened from the impromptu coitus, drawing a deliciously soft whimper from the depths of his throat.

"Easy, lass. Been a while since I kissed ya like tha'."

You ignore him. Blissfully continuing with your previous conversation, feigning innocence.

"Y'know. CeeDee can actually work quite well. It's an acronym for the other name I want to give her."

"Mhm. And wha's tha' one?"

Pursing your lips, you paused. Keeping your wits about you in fear of bursting into a fit of laughter at any moment.

"Well, if you plan on us fucking a lot in her, why don't we just call her the Cum Dumpster?"

"Steamin fuckin Jesus, bonnie."

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@ohgeesoap @writeforfandoms @efingart @sofasoap @mini-metal @shotmrmiller @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @crashandlivewrites @random-thot-generator @glossysoap @devcica @tacticalanxiety @gazs-blue-hat @chamomiletealeaf @thetrashpossum @queen-ilmaree @weebumochi @sadstone-s @slutweeds @foxface013 @lily-ilo

[mail-me-a-snail]

me when i make oc posts that could cater to like 2 people ever

[shotmrmiller]

Needs Must III

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.2k

TW: frottage into outercourse, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie. explicit smut.

18+ MDNI

“Hey, John—” and choke back a yelp when you realize that the person standing in front of you isn’t Johnny, but the one man you haven’t seen in months.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Despite your shock, a sound of disgust escapes your lips involuntarily, causing him to chuckle. Ghost walks past you, brushing his bicep with your shoulder, and heads to the living room to take off his leather jacket, placing it on the backrest of your couch— and the gloves follow. You stood behind him, arms crossed, curling your socked toes nervously into the soft fibers of your carpet. 

He leisurely rolls up the silky satin dress shirt sleeves, exposing the intricate tattoos adorning his forearms. Without turning around, he softly says, “C’mere, pet.” His deep baritone voice pulls at your heartstrings because it’s been so long, you missed him more than you’d like to admit. With a deep breath, you attempt to steady your racing heart, your gaze fixed on the ground, and slowly approach him.

“Oh?” and he tips your chin up with his finger, demanding your attention, noticing his amused smile. “Johnny fuck you into submission, er somethin’?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you’re unsure if it’s out of embarrassment or anger.

“Don’t look surprised. He’s my best friend.” Spluttering, you heatedly ask, “And what? Y’all just gossip like old hens over ‘work’?” finger quoting the last word. With a cheeky grin, he casually shrugs his shoulders. “Somethin’ like tha’. If you worried, he gave you a glowin’ review,” the grin turns into a slight sneer, “bastard.” 

Ghost gives you a once-over, sweeping his eyes from your feet to your head, and holds your gaze for a second, then murmurs, “Come.” With a gentle yet commanding hold on your wrist, he pulls you towards the bedroom, and you’re reminded of the times he pinned both of your hands onto the bed with his large one— sending a very familiar ache between your legs. He sits you on the edge of the bed, toes his shoes off, and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing the strong muscles of his chest and his soft, slightly round stomach. He doesn’t even bother removing it fully, instead, he reaches for the waistband of your shorts. You extend your leg out, firmly pressing your dainty foot on his sternum, keeping him in place.

He stills, and you speak before he gets a chance to. “What’re you doing here, Ghost?” His heavy, dark gaze is unwavering, entrancing. “‘M here f’you. You didn’t honestly think tha’ I’d let you keep callin’ Johnny instead o’me?” He encircles your delicate ankle with his long fingers and pushes your leg to the side— the other hand taking the hem of your skirt, dragging it up until it bunches around your waist, and slots himself between your spread thighs. Lips brush against your cheek before moving up to your ear. “What is it? He treat you better than me?” His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. Instead of waiting for a reply, he catches your earlobe with his teeth, nibbling on it. Your hands promptly fist the sides of his open shirt, mewling at the pinch of his bite. “Hm?” he questions as he grinds his clothed erection against your center. 

You’re lightheaded from the sound of his voice, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the smell of his cologne— a woody aromatic fragrance, all of it so fucking intoxicating. He delivers a sharp, stinging slap to the side of your thigh, demanding your attention, and it sends a jolt straight to your dripping cunt— making it contract around nothing. “He fuck you better than I have?” You give him a vigorous shake of your head, and a needy moan spills from your mouth as he gives your core a particularly hard thrust, the hard metal of the zipper rubbing against your clit. You begin to grind your hips down onto him and move one hand from his now very crinkled shirt, to hold on to the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You boutta come all over my trousers, baby?” 

And then his hands are on your waist, firmly keeping you in place. You whine loudly, you were so close— 

“Then why did you stop seeing me?” Your head is so heavily clouded with arousal, drunk off of him that the answers tumble out unwittingly— mind solely focused on getting the friction back where you need it most.

“I wanted you all f’me,” slurring your words, “Guess the hand y’always used to choke me with kept the blood from flowing t’my head—” your rambling is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours, tongues entangling. He swallows all of the salacious noises you let slip, drinks them in, makes them his— makes you his. When he pulls away, you find yourself gasping for air. With a raspy voice, you mumble, “I thought you—” and he silences you with another hungry kiss.

“I only kiss what’s mine.” He hooks his thumbs into the band of your knickers and pulls them off, throwing them somewhere behind his shoulder. He swiftly undoes his trousers and steps out of them along with his boxer shorts. “Let’s play a game of Simon says, pet.” He maneuvered your hands to grab under your thighs, keeping them spread for him. Leaning forward, he leans on one arm, using the other to press the head of his cock on your puffy lips, holding it in place with his thumb. He slowly thrusts up, making sure you feel every ridge and vein against your swollen clit, “And I say, you come f’me, just” thrust “like” thrust “this.” 

You push your hips down when he pulls back, up when he drags his thick cock up, delicious friction on your bundle of nerves. Every roll of his hips gets you closer to your climax, your pussy dripping slick down to your perineum. Your thighs start to tremble in your sweaty hands, body tense. “Oh my god. Ohmy—”  

He shifts his weight from his arm to lean on his elbow, heavy body flush against yours, pressing you into the bed—  fisting your hair and pulling it taut, tilting your face up to his. 

“It’s either my name or none at all.” He punctuates the syllables with his thrusts. “Si - mon.” 

Releasing your thighs, you dig your nails into the sides of his waist, grip tightening at your impending orgasm. Simon grunts a low, gravelly sound. “There they are. My kitten’s sharp claws,” one more thrust, then again, he moans, “Come f’me, baby.” And you tip over the edge. Anything he might’ve said after is completely muted either by the ringing in your ears or the wail that clawed out of your throat. Collapsing, you twitch and shake in Simon’s arms, taking in ragged breaths. 

“You with me?” giving him a weak nod. Slowly, he pulls away, and there’s clear, stringy liquid dripping from his tip connecting to the hood of your pussy. He moves you to lie in the middle of the bed gently, body completely limp, plain dead weight, then walks to your nightstand. “What’s with all the lambskin condoms?” 

A soft, relaxed sigh slips out of you. “Johnny’s allergic to latex, I had no idea. Had to go without one the first time.” Simon lets out a drawn-out hum, then drops the protection back into the drawer. He shrugs off his damp satin shirt, then gets on the bed, crawling over you— covering your body easily with his, and prods his bare cock at your entrance.

“But you’re mine now, aren’t you? Gonna let me take what’s mine?” Swallowing thickly, you look at him, and his eyes are dark, glittering— gaze intense. Maybe you took too long to answer because he starts to slowly push the tip in, and hisses, “You’re mine, only mine. Got it?” and your tight, rippling walls stretch around his invasion. Your breathy moan is cut off when he bottoms out, flared head firmly pressing into your cervix. He’s at a dead end, and he grinds down, almost like he’s trying to push it past that, feeling a deep pinch at the entrance of your womb. The pressure is punishing, incessant, you swear you can feel him in your throat. “Nod if you understand,” he snarls.

You do as he says, no commands, nodding with messy, jerky movements. “Good girl.” He relents, pulling back to sit on his haunches to press one leg into your bed and hook the other over his shoulder. Wordlessly, he sets a fast pace, but his thrusts are shallow, in a staccato rhythm—  and fuck him, because he knows precisely where to hit. Ruthless prodding against your sweet spot, over and over again. It feels like jabs to the underside of your bladder, and every tap makes that feeling sharper, acute. Oh no. Nono— 

You know exactly what’s going to happen. Your eyes glisten with tears, cascading down your cheeks, as the overwhelming sensation takes hold, and with every thrust, it only becomes more concentrated.

“Awh, my poor pet. Feels tha’ good, does it? Look at you, cryin’.” You can't find it in you to be even the slightest bit humiliated because you’re about to lose the last of your sanity, he’s about to break you. You can’t even control the shrill moans Simon all but punches out of you. 

“Oh, I’d recognize tha’ cross-eyed look anywhere.” He chuckles, “C’mon then. Make a mess f’me.” His thrusts are unyielding in his pursuit of what he’s about to make you do.  “Squirt f’me, pretty.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your body locks tight, and this time you scream. Liquid warmth floods in between your legs, drenching yourself, your bed, Simon— but you don’t care. There isn’t a single thought in that empty head of yours. 

Simon was languidly thrusting, fucking you through the aftershocks until a wavering breath escapes your lips, mirroring the shaky tremors that are currently rippling through your body. As he leans in, his lips softly caress your face, wiping away any stray tears that remain, and the spit that drooled out of your mouth. “You did so well f’me.” Your eyes widen at the feel of his solid, heavy cock still at full mast inside of you. 

He changes position, this time hooking the other leg over his shoulder, then gives you one soft thrust and you distinctly hiss, oversensitized. Simon presses your knees into you with his body weight, pinning you down fully, with no escape, and loops his arms underneath your torso to grab onto your shoulders— and starts snapping his hips viciously. A merciless pace, each slap of his hips against your ass making your pussy squelch obscenely, and there’s nothing you can do other than take his assault. It is unbelievable, how just seconds before were squirming away from him because of how tender you were, and here you are, about to fall over another mind-numbing edge.

“If you want me to come, then squeeze that tight cunt and wrench it out of me.” He pounded into you harder, the headboard of your bed furiously smacking against the wall that you know there’ll be cracks on it. Crying out, he continuously hits the deepest part of your pussy, and you come undone. Vision darkening, you’re slammed with wave after wave of pleasure, your walls squeezing him so tight, you’re strangling his cock and he makes a choked sound. 

“Oh-of, f-fu-” he lets out a low, drawn-out moan that lasts all four last thrusts— before his hips stutter, and finally still, spurting thick, sticky white ropes of cum into you.

—

The room was echoing with both of your heavy inhales, desperate to fill your lungs with air. It was humid, smelt of sex and body sweat. Simon grunts as he turns to his side, getting off of you, and the sharp gasp of air you intake is comical.

“Am I tha’ heavy, love?” 

You look like you’re tittering on the edge of consciousness, but snort and answer him. “Yes. Obviously. The only thing small about you is your humility.” He gives a belly laugh and leans in to give you one last sweet, tender kiss. 

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow, maybe meet some of my friends.” 

“You mean Kyle and John? They’re very nice.” He falters because what? But you were already softly snoring. 

Stretching his arm across the nightstand, he swiftly retrieves his phone and a mischievous grin spreads across his face upon seeing a text from Johnny from hours ago.

Ya really answered her text on my phone pretending to be me. Pussywhipped.

You really told her you’re allergic to latex, when you use latex gloves to cook. 

Oof. Fair. 

And you’re gonna explain to me why she knows Gaz n Price.

Jus’ sharin the love, Simon. 

Sucking his teeth, he puts his phone underneath the pillow, and loops an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. With a tender kiss on your sweaty forehead, he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: ngl i was fighting for my life? shit had me aroused. oof. im def writing price and kyle into this because 141 til i die. maybe a könig? unsure.

@rookiesbookies KYLE COMIN NEXT

[yanderestarangel]

HEADCANONS MK1 | "HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO YOU BEING INSECURE ABOUT YOUR BODY" - 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊

TW: chubby/thick reader, afab reader, v!sex, oral (f!re), blowjob, praise kink, smut, porn plot, insecurity, body worship, sub!reader + soft!dom, hard!dom.

𖤐 BI HAN ,TOMAS VRBADA, LIU KANG, KUNG LAO, KENSHI, SHANG TSUNG, HAVIK, RAIDEN.

He really loves your body, and doesn't understand why you're insecure about your appearance, he simply thinks it's beautiful and loves squeezing the cute folds of your belly and thighs, feeling the softness of your body.

He will squeeze your hips and sigh with desire when he sees the soft flesh of your skin between his fingers, while he rubs his erection against your ass. "-Are you really feeling ugly, my love? You are the most fucking beautiful thing in the world... And in my world." He will plant kisses on your belly, moving his mouth down to your cunt and giving sweet kisses to your clit, his scruffy beard tickling your skin, while he begins to suck your wet folds.

"-I swear if I see you like that again, I'm going to fuck you until you can't think of anything other than how beautiful you are around my dick baby..." He growls against your pussy, then slapping it on your thigh, making you tremble and squirm around his tongue - his tongue delving deeper into your tight channel. His fingers found your nipples, your breasts were so soft and fit perfectly in his hands, pinching and twisting them forcefully but gently, causing you to make a sharp scream of a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"-You're so fucking beautiful baby fuck- do you really want to make me cum without even touching you? You make me so hard oh fuck-" He removed his mouth from your wetness, leaving a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. He soon took his dick out of his pants, hitting his hard member on your clit, lifting your thighs and enjoying the beautiful view of your body - flushed and sweaty - beneath him, he masturbates his own dick between your soft thighs, brushing provocatively against the hot shaft and veiny inches from your needy entrance, smiling contently as he sees you squirm for him.

"-I'm not going to fuck that cute pussy until you admit that you're beautiful... You know how beautiful you are... Daddy's beautiful little whore-Oh baby you're so fucking pretty like this-" He grunted, as he held your face in his hands.

"-Look at me, look at me while I fuck you, I want to see that beautiful face while I fuck you like the fucking little slut I know you are- my beautiful slut." He speaks harshly, his mind hazy with excitement. Seeing him dominating you while enjoying that delicious pussy makes him want more, he loves you, he loves your body and he won't get tired until you're a beautiful, trembling mess for him, so get ready to not walk for days - or he may have mercy on you if you admit that you are beautiful.

He moans deeply, thrusting his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt one last time before going still, he manages to make you look at the mirror above the two of you - as he forces you to see every beautiful reaction, every delicious flicker of your flesh with each rough thrust of his into your core. "-You're so fucking tight... Fucking beautiful, you're mine, damn it!- I fucking love you my little angel."

𖤐 JOHNNY CAGE, BARAKA, SYZOTH, GERAS, KUAI LIANG, SHAO KHAN, RAIN, REIKO.

At the first sound of the word "insecurity" you will already be on your knees for him, - totally naked - with him placing his dick between your lips and pushing it to the base, while moaning loudly and looking at the heavy tears that fell from your eyes - like this Instead of pleasure, your ass would be stuck up in the air, giving you a double view of the paradise that awaited you afterwards. If this insecurity was caused by someone's comment, you can consider that person dead the next day.

"-You're incredible my little pearl... Every bit of your body is beautiful and perfect for me, you're like a god/goddess to me my little one and damn-" He moans forcing his hips forward even more, towards give you more of that hot feeling in your throat "-Y-You make my dick so hard and so passionate at the same time" His hands go to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh and then slapping it hard enough to make you moan against his dick - he was always a dominant man, but you were always so beautiful when you were like this, with his dick in your mouth and pussy dripping on the floor.

"-You're a mess for me baby... Look at you... Just walking around like a pretty boy/girl, begging for cock in that tight pussy." He would moan loudly and overstimulated, while pulling your hair lightly, making you take your mouth off his dick.

With a quick movement, he made you sit on the wet length of his saliva - he had to hold back the urge to cum every time he saw your ass rise and fall on his lap, while he grunted at the feeling and seeing your little cunt drool in him. "-Fuck look at this- fuck! Fuck baby I'm going to cum, please my prince/princess, just be a pretty boy/girl and cum for me, cum on my dick-!" He screams, as he felt his balls tighten with a familiar sensation of ecstasy, squeezing your breasts and whispering in your ear.

"-Next time you feel insecure, I-I want you to remember that, remember that you're the only fucking person in this damn world who can make me lose control like that."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023