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gococogo · 2 months

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Share Your Toys | SilverV

Synopsis: V buys something new and odd and Johnny doesn't want to participate. All until he needs to show V just how to use.

Word Count: 2.1K

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Male!V

Warnings: nsfw/anal/dildo/sex toy/masturbation/degrading/slut shaming

Notes: I know I've only done one cyberpunk fic in the past. But I have this one and one more planned to post haha. I'm here for the male!v x johnny enjoyers

Does he feel a little ashamed buying one? No… Maybe. Just a lil. They had peaked his interest when he had spotted one, but he had much more pressing matters on hand.

So, here he is, with a six-inch dildo in hand.

It’s odd looking. It’s thicker at the tip than it is at the base. Being an ombre from a pink on the bottom to a pastel blue to the tip, it’s almost alien looking. With ridges on the underside that poke out a fair bit, V already knows this is going to be an odd sensation. Something funky to use to get his mind off of current things.

“There’s no way in fuck we’re sticking that thing up your ass,” Johnny snaps from the couch.

V sighs a gruntle noise. He tries to ignore Johnny but the rockstar taps his foot on the ground. He looks up to Johnny finally with a raised brow. He sits on the edge of his bed in only an old t shirt -one that use to be an outdoor shirt but slowly turned into a pj shirt with all the holes and grease stains in it. He sets the dildo on the bed next to him with another sigh.

“We?” V asks.

“Yes, we,” Johnny bites back. “I can feel everything you feel to an extent. And tonight, or any other, I don’t think I’m in the mood to have that thing shoved up my ass,” he says as he points to the dildo with a silver finger.

“You’ve never taken a dick before?” V mocks as he scoots up on his bed.

He makes himself comfortable and brings a bottle of lube with him in hand. Johnny leans back on the couch with his legs crosses over one another. He pushes his aviators up back to cover his eyes. The red glass reflects V on the bed, laid back with his shirt pooled over his crotch and thighs.

“I said I don’t want that,” Johnny grits out.

V rolls his eyes. “Just, leave me alone and I’ll forget you’re ever here. Go to whatever corner of my brain you normally go to when you don’t like something. It’s still my body, so I can do what I want and put whatever the hell I want in it.”

Johnny stares at V for a moment longer and for a split second, the merc feels very exposed. The rocker has seen everything before. Has done stuff to him before. But right now, the look he’s receiving is something different. Then, without a word, Johnny disappears in a glitch of blue and red static.

Good. Now he can continue in peace and use sex for a moment to forget about how shit life is.

Getting the first inch in is a struggle. Even with a lot of prep and a lot of lube, the tip is a tad thick. The stretch is a little overwhelming as V opens his legs out a bit further. He works himself little by little, letting the ridges of the fake cock rub up inside of him.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

V stops all so that he can glare at the disturbance standing over him at the side of his bed. He’s gotten so use to Johnny popping up randomly that when he does, it doesn’t phase him at all now.

The rocker’s arms are crossed over his chest and he still wears those red aviators. He can see himself in them again. Legs apart, dick half hard between with a large cock spreading him open. And all Johnny does is frown.

V moves the dick, pushing it a little further into himself and watches Johnny’s face. And when the rocker’s face scrunches up into a scowl, soon followed by a shaky, quiet exhale that is a clear indication he’s trying to hide his reaction, V can only smirk.

As cockily as he can say with a cock up his ass, the merc grins, “How should I be doing it then?”

Johnny’s scowl only deepens. Yet, he disappears from where he’s standing and reappears in a wave of glitches and static in front of V. Bent over and looking over him without his aviators. Dark, brown eyes stare him that hold something dangerous.

Without a word, Johnny takes control of V’s spare arm and grabs a pillow behind him. He shoves it under V’s back that has the merc rolling his eyes. The pillow trick? Really?

“I can’t believe you’ve got me doing this,” Johnny grumbles under his breath.

“You’re the one that hopped in yourself, I could have done this on my own,” V interjects.

Johnny covers V’s hand that holds onto the base of the fake cock. “And have a shit time because you’re taking too long? I’d rather not sit back and have to experience that.”

“But you’d rather experience a misshaped dildo up my ass?”

Johnny only frowns at that, his brows furrowing together. Hard enough that it brings creases to his forehead and brings out his crow’s feet.

With a hard push, one that V wouldn’t have deemed himself ready, the cock is pushed halfway in. V throws his head back against the bed. The ridges of the dildo rub up against the part inside of him that makes everything tingle. The painful stretch of the cock has him trying to catch his breath. But it’s a pain that is welcome. Has him buzzing.

The thickness of the first half has him already feeling full. The ridges on the underside of the dildo rub up against all the good parts inside of him that adds to the dizziness in his head. He breathes heavily, soft whines hitching his throat as Johnny moves the cock inside of him before he can get use to the feeling. Slowly pulling out before pushing in where it was before. And God it feels so good. It has him gripping the sheets with his other hand, the other being held down by Johnny.

The rockstar lifts one of V’s legs up and props it over his shoulder so that he can settle in closer. V looks to Johnny through slitted eyes and the look on the rocker’s face only turns him on more.

Johnny’s mouth is parted, and he breathes in sync with V. Each time he pushes the cock inside of V, each time a little deeper, each time hitting his prostate, Johnny shivers and pants. The blue of the cock all but disappears into V’s ass, leaving only the pink half to take down. God he’s quickly enjoying this as much as V is. Who knew the rockstar could have a little fun.

Being trapped on a biochip must do that to someone though. But by whatever God there is, is it hot to see Johnny become a little desperate. He’s so focused on the fake cock that his own hips move in sync faintly.

Johnny growls, -something that V never expected to hear- and pushes the rest of the cock inside of V. It slips in easily, the base being narrower than the first half. And everything feels like it short circuits inside of V, as if his cyberware doesn’t know what’s happening. His back arches as he groans deep within his throat. The cock is so wide and girthy it stretches him greatly. It makes him feel full and has him twitching. Each movement has the ridges grinding up inside of him and each time that happens, a small hiccup of moans are forced from his mouth. He can’t help himself. This feeling is wild and he’s glad that he bought this.

Johnny on the other hand. He’s bent over V trying to catch his own breath. He doesn’t need to breath but it bloody feels like he can’t intake air. Every time V moves and shifts, a wave of pleasure pulses through Johnny that has him shivering and twitching. He can feel himself grow hard in his leather pants. He’s not meant to be into this but by god does it feel great.

He catches his breath before pulling cock out of V to the tip, the sweet sound of moans and groans coming with it. With a forceful push, he shoves the entire six inches back into the merc, the blue disappearing along with the pink. And there it is again, the wave of pleasure and tingles from V that has Johnny shivering and groaning deep in his chest.

He begins slowly pumping the fake cock inside of V, revelling in the raw feelings and sensations that come from the merc’s end. He can feel V’s pain and those friendly pats to his shoulders from strangers. All of those are faint, like passing by a soft blowing vent. But this, this has Johnny’s head spinning and his code glitching.

V other hand comes back down to stroke his hardening dick. He grinds his teeth together at how overstimulating such a simple touch is. God he’s not going to last much longer if Johnny keeps this up. Especially with the pace quickening with every pass of his prostate.

Johnny begins panting loudly as he quickens the pace. Each time it fills V up in the right places and stretches him a little painfully. But that sting is something that feels so good. He matches his stroke on his dick with Johnny, letting him take the full reigns even though he knew he was fucked when the rocker popped back up again to make his comments.

V gets lost in everything, letting his mind go to this moment right now. Forgetting about everything that’s fucked him over in life. Johnny pushes the cock fully in and lets it sit there for a moment. All so he can swat V’s hand off his dick and replace it with his own. The feeling of Johnny’s metal hand on his dick is cold and brings a harsh gasp out of his mouth.

V meets dark brown eyes that stare at him. There’s something different there that the merc can’t quite place. Maybe because he’s having trouble reciting the alphabet or he’s completely forgotten what day it is. His mind is a jumble. But he knows that that dark look within those eyes is something akin to…

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” Johnny quips in between his own panting.

And there it is. Johnny’s comments. Why should V be surprised?

“Yeah and-“ The comeback V was going to make is lost as Johnny moves the dildo inside of him.

He grinds it into him shallowly, letting it rub up against everything inside and makes his entire gut and head to buzz. And in time with the movement, he strokes V’s dick, his thumb flicking and rubbing over the tip each time strokes up.

V grabs onto the blanket again, still letting Johnny guide his other hand on the fake cock. Everything is going crazy. He can’t help but grunt and whine like a two eddie whore.

“Yeah,” Johnny groans out. “You sound like one too.”

V can feel himself coming closer and closer. If Johnny keeps this same pace, he can get there quickly.

“My little slut, how does that sound?” The words are spoken deeply, gravelly.

And it all goes straight to V’s dick. He cums as if a freight train just hit him. His Kiroshi’s become spotty for a second, the black spots disappearing slowly after a while as his eyes recalibrate. He can’t catch his breath for a moment and when he opens his eyes, Johnny is gone.

For a split second, V feels a bit of panic, but as soon as it comes, Johnny appears back again in a storm of glitches and static. He’s hunched over V with a wide expression upon his normally grouchy features. He pants and shakes. He gulps, trying to collect himself. But whatever V felt, Johnny did as well ten fold it seems.

V slips the alien like dildo out of him with a pop and a groan, and throws it aside on his bed. He’s too worn out to worry about anything other than the rockstar leaning over him.

He reaches up and pats Johnny’s face. The simple touch has brown eyes latching onto V.

“Was it worth it?” V asks.

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

Johnny sits up straight, still kneeling in between V’s legs. He runs a hand down his face and lets his gaze run down the merc’s body. His eyes linger on V’s still leaking cock and the cum splattered over his stomach and tattoos. He’d be wrong if didn’t admit this was all a little hot. It’s all in how V pants and shakes from the orgasm still, his chest and stomach rising rapidly with each breath.

Johnny swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his throat. “A little then, yeah,” He grumbles.

Please do not copy or repost my work. <3

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beastyboyxx · 3 months

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Your Body, My Rules. ★★★

Summary: With a rough gig resulting in you almost eating another bullet to the head, you decided to treat yourself in the best way you knew how. Although it slipped your mind that Johnny had front row seat to your whole sexual situation.

Warnings: Dialogue Heavy, Smut, MLM, Johnny Taking Control, Getting Caught, Handjob, Overstimulation, Johnny Is An Asshole, Teasing, Humiliation, Ruined Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Johnny Using Your Arms, Forceful Johnny, Restraining, Forced Orgasm, Choking.

Characters: Johnny Silverhand

Category: One-Shot

Series: Cyberpunk 2077

Word Count: 1691

Your hand was working its magic. It didn’t take much for you to be in bed, kicking your shorts off and stroking your cock like no tomorrow. Who wouldn’t after the night you had.

Some gig you took on was a spoon full. Wraiths giving you a proper beat down while you tried to hack some data. Eventually, it ended in a blood bath as usual. And now you were pissed you had just risked your life for some lousy data that probably meant jack shit.

It was enough. For now at least, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a joytoy, although it was a bit embarrassing to do so. Especially ordering one to arrive at your doorstep. So your hand would have to suffice.

Leaning up, adjusting so my back was firm against the wall I spat onto my palm and continued. The sensation that was so familiar never got old surprisingly.

“Fuck… yeah that’s good.” I groaned. My head dropping back to the wall as I closed my eyes to take in all of the feeling.

“Well what the fuck.”

My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t exactly honorable to get caught with your shorts down and cock sprung out. Quickly I tossed a blanket over my bits in a blink. My eyes darted around my apartment but no one was seen.

“The hell—? I… oh fuck.” My head fell back with a groan. It clicked, like a lightbulb flickering on. It was none other than the annoying construct Johnny Silverhand.

“Truly a sight to behold. My fleshy prison jackin’ himself off to get some edge.” His voice was wired into my brain. Almost as if he was right in my ear. “Did you really get all pent up you forgot about the little voice in your head?”

“Can it Johnny. You’d be doing the same.” I spat out. More pissed knowing I had been caught. Especially with peeping eyes that could’ve been watching the whole time.

“Quick to assume. I don’t blame you though but Jesus you are horrible at handjobs.”

“Not your place to be criticizing how I pleasure myself. Fuck this—“ I reached over to the nightstand. The blockers Misty had given me were practically shining as I outstretched my hand.

“What— Johnny what did you do.”

My whole arm flexed and stopped. It was like some force was keeping my arm outstretched. “What the fuck!?”

Suddenly my arm was forced onto the sheets of my bed, then my arm raised up to meet my face. My fingers clenched then released all not by my own doing. Johnny chuckled deep within my head.

“Now we’re talkin. Just sit back and relax, I’m taking the reins for this show.” Johnny lowered my hand to my throbbing length.

“Hey—! Johnny I swear—“ my free hand darted down trying to stop him. It repeated, arm stopped midway and was forced back behind my head.

The position I was in was like some beer dad relaxing on the beach although it was a cock in hand rather than a cold one. Very fitting for Silverhand.

“Knock it off already! Jesus Johnny!”

“Not till I’ve had my fun. Just because we now share the same body doesn’t mean I can’t indulge myself. Your body, my rules.”

“That doesn’t make any sense— ohh god…”

Johnny began stroking, using my hand as his own. I couldn’t tell if he felt it too, but god it was electrifying. The image of your hands jacking yourself off even though it isn’t your doing was igniting some sick kink in my mind.

His laugh echoed in my head. If he decided to appear I’d probably be fully at his mercy. Silverhands pace was moderate, not too fast not too slow. My head rolled back, eyes closing, as I tried to imagine it was me rather than Johnny doing the stroking. Just to save myself as much dignity I had left.

“Yeah that’s it…” Johnny purred. “Just relax…” every word he slurred out in a breathy whisper. You could hear the smile through his voice.

“Shut up already…mmmhh-“

“You like this huh? Somebody else using your body. Y’know it’s me who’s jacking you off right?”

“Just shut up—!”

“Really going to yell at your caretaker?”

Suddenly Johnny sped up. His hand moving at a vigorous pace that had my legs tense, and my head roll forward as curses pooled out.

“You digital prick—! Fuuuuck! Hahhh”

“Let’s roll out the red carpet for this first one yeah? Make it so you’re drooling like a dog.”

“You’re such an asshole— Mmmngh!” I bit my lip. It was embarrassing enough I was reacting but the noises really got under my skin. Maybe Johnny wanted that.

Silverhand chuckled. He knew exactly what he was doing and I hated it. I hated him. I hated this.

“Almost there already? Jesus you’re sick…”

“You— would… be the sa—me… Aahhh slow down!”

“Not gunna happen. Not till you’re begging me for mercy, that alone would probably make my own little bubble pop.” Johnny moved my right hand down to my throat. My thumb pressing into my adams apple til all fingers were wrapped tightly around my throat.

“So indulge me. Your body is mine.”

His stroking quickened, then slowed, then my hand ran up to the aching head of my cock that was already slick with precum. Johnny running my fingers around the head shaping it into an O shape. My waist and lower legs tensed and flexed until I felt my body slip away control of my lower bits.

It was horrifically embarrassing. Johnny was fucking my hips into my hand like some pitiful desperate slob. But god did it feel good. It was in this moment I was thankful he couldn’t read my thoughts. Not entirely.

My eyes rolled back. The sight was one to witness, and definitely one to rile anybody up with a hard on n’ such. Considering the position my hand at my throat, my hips desperately bucking up into my hand that kept still. All of it mine, but not by me. Johnny you sick fuck.

It wouldn’t be long until I popped. Rearing near I felt that build up to the final blow. Although I don’t think Johnny wants this to be a “one and done” game.

“John—ny! Jesus Christ! You… Hahh— bastard—! Fuuuuuck!!”

Strings of my slick shot out in ropes. My body gaining back some control while I bucked out a few more thrusts into my hand. I fell back onto the bed, panting from the erotic handjob given by Silverhand.

“Perfect. Now that you’re all hot and bothered let’s get to the real fun part.”

My body tensed again, arms down at my already sensitive cock while my legs were spread apart.

…

Some time had passed. My mind was fogged along with my apartment turning into a hazy blur. I lost count but was easily reminded of how many times I already came from that stupid fucking voice buried deep into my head.

“Whoa! That makes what…? Three? Four? Jesus kid.” Johnny smirked with his voice. I wanted to gut him.

“Haahhh— You sick… fuck.” A loud, erupting groan rolled my head back.

Johnny had my hand jerking on my cock while my free hand was holding my body up. My back facing the ceiling as my waist was lifted, thanks to Johnny. He was hoping to coat the sheets again with the already found pool just underneath me.

“C’mon… I know you got at least one more. A man of your stature doesn’t have a lot of time to fuck his stress away.”

“You talk… to mu—ch…!”

“I think you like it. Your cock gets all kinds of bothered whenever I choose to speak up.”

“No shit.” My jaw clenched, eyes dropping to the sight of my hand once again jerking out another orgasm.

“You can give Johnny one more can’t you?”

“God damnit—!”

My eyes screwed shut as that familiar erotic sensation rolled through my body. My toes curled as I took a fist full of the sheets. Another ready to ruin my bed—

“Not so fast.” Johnny purred. My hand stopping at the vigorous speed to a squeezing stop. My body jerked as it tried to release but to no avail.

“What the fuck Johnny!?”

“What? Gotta have a little fun for myself right? You get it.”

“You’re an asshole…!”

“Right, say that to the guy who’s been jacking your cock for the past hour now.”

Johnnys voice chuckled deep within my brain. Johnny forcing me to lift myself as I faced my pillows. Once again one hand at my cock and another at my throat.

Johnny had my hips in control, mercilessly thrusting them into the prison of my own hand. This wasn’t the same from the first two times, he was genuinely trying to make me feel utter misery mixed with pleasure that couldn’t be ignored.

My bed sheets ruined, cock glistening, and the smell of shame and sex filled the small apartment. Johnny having front row to the entire show ate it all up with no room to leave any leftovers. The legend loved every second of my sexed out misery.

What felt like an eternity of fucking into my hand my cock gave out once final pool of thick slick oozing out in strings onto the bed. My body shook, and my legs flexed before I fell onto the soft sheets. The bed bouncing a bit.

“Atta boy, now you’ll be stress free and all rested up for the big day tomorrow. You’re welcome, maybe next time I’ll have you fuck some fleshlight.”

“Jus’ shut up already Johnny…” I slurred out. My eyes already shut as I relaxed into the bed, my body still fuzzy and tingling from the overwhelming session I endured.

Although it wouldn’t hurt to try it again…

#m4m #male reader #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk johnny #johnny silverhand smut #johnny silverhand x male reader #johnny silverhand x reader #oneshot #mlm #x male reader

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ccscocoapuffs · 3 months

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Johnny Silverhand NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Johnny is kinda weird with aftercare. His form of it is really just putting his arm around you and offering you a cigarette. Though, I think if you built a deep connection with Johnny he may get better a giving Aftercare.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Johnny likes his dick. It gets the job done and I mean he canonically it's impressive (prove it). Johnny is an ass man all the way. He loves to slap his partners ass and keep his hand on it while you two walk in public.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Johnny loves to cum on your tits. After he absolutely covers your chest in his cum he likes to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Deep down Johnny is a softie, you occasionally may see the more romantic side of Johnny and see that he does truly love you. He just has a strange way of expressing his love to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Johnny is well experienced, especially in his rocker boy days. He knows how to make you cum over and over again without even giving his full effort, he knows exactly what he is doing and he uses that to his advantage in many ways.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Johnny likes reverse cowgirl, he loves being able to thrust up into you while you ride him. He takes advantage of this position and slaps your ass and grabs you hips to control the speed.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Johnny is serious, He's there to fuck you till you can't walk the next day. He's gonna use the time to make sure he does just that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Johnny has thick black pubes. He keeps it bushy, he likes the sounds you make when you go down on him and choke a little on not only his cock but the thick hair attached to his pelvis.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Like I mention Johnny can have a more romantic side but at the end of the day he is still Johnny. The biggest Romantic gestures you might get is him looking you in the eyes and saying he loves you. Don't make a big deal out of it though because he will start to panic at the thought he appears weak.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He never really has jerked off much, when he was performing there was always groupies or girls that were more than willing to get a piece of him. Then when you two got together he once again doesn't feel the need he has you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) BDSM, spanking, choking, and likes to be called Daddy or sir. Johnny is a kinky fuck, he has the main kinks he's into but he will randomly present one to you out of the blue just to get you even more riled up.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere. Johnny plain and simple does not give a single fuck. He will fuck you anywhere anytime. If he random gets in the mood you better find somewhere modest if you don't wanna get caught cause he will bend you over in a alley somewhere if he has to.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Johnny is pretty easily turned on, though one of his favorite things is when you two have some private time and you give him a little strip tease. Another favorite is when you wear his clothes, he has some shirts that are damn near like dresses on you, wear one of them with just a thong and some thigh high boots to one of his shows and he will go absolutely wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) let you be in control. Johnny is a dom all the way and he likes it hat way. Johnny being submissive is just something that will never happen.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Johnny eats pussy like a mother fuckin god. He likes to put your legs on each side of his head and devour you. He for sure loves giving but receiving is just as good. He loves to fuck your face though when you go to suck him off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Johnny is usually kinda on the rougher side however he tends to be more of a medium set pace. He likes giving you long and deep thrusts and going too fast just doesn't allow him to do that the way he wants.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Johnny is always down for a quickie. To be completely honest you probably have more quickies with Johnny than you have full length sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Johnny is always experimenting he loves to be kinky and wants to find new things to try on you all the time. As for risk he doesn't care who see's or what people think. He fucks his girl when and where he wants so its safe to say he for sure is risky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) atleast 2-3 rounds. Johnny wants to keep things going for a bit and keep making you cum for him. e wants to make sure your legs are shaking by the end of it and he can pull that off way more than necessary in just 2-3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No you're his and he doesn't see the point in toys. He can do the job just fine himself and doesn't see why you would want anything else.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Johnny is a very very big tease. He loves to make you beg for him and he loves to know he's the reason you are going wild. During shows he will grab himself through his jeans ad wink at you without a care in the world. He will for sure finger you under the table at band meetings and not give a shit about Kerry yelling at him for what he's doing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Johnny tends to let out low breathy moans. He isn't very loud but what noises he does make he tends to bury his face close to your ear so just you cam hear them.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He fingers you with the metal arm. He prides himself on it, its part of who he is and he wants to use it to make you feel the most intense orgasms you've ever had.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Johnny is about 8 inches and he has a medium thickness. He has a thick vein that runs down the left side.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Johnny has a pretty high sex drive but don't worry he'll take it all out on you, you'll be busy with keeping up with Johnny's sex drive all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Johnny usually doesn't fall asleep afterwards. There's a million reasons why Johnny doesn't fall asleep afterwards, the main one being he simply can't. Johnny goes deep into thought after you two fuck and he just wraps his arm around you and thinks while he listens to your soft snores. Another reason he would never admit is because he doesn't want you to leave when he wakes up.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand smut #samurai #fanfic #alphabet

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vampireloverz · 2 years

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you're not a ghost, you're in my head

pairing: johnny silverhand x fem! reader

words: 3.8k

cw/tw: reader is technically v but is not referred to as “v”, reader has a specific canon tattoo and pubic hair, canon typical slang, canon typical cigarette use by johnny, fingering with a metal hand (f → receiving), unprotected sex, light scent/armpit kink, light angst, cyberpunk 2077 spoilers

— “Johnny, the fuck do you think y—“

“Relax, kid,” his voice comes out in a gritty rumble by your ear as his fingers come down to replace yours on your clit, “You and I are just gonna have a little fun.” —

"Pleasure doin’ biz with you,” you shake hands with your client as they deposit eddies into your account, a nice little bonus on top of your usual fee for a job well done.

“Get us the fuck outta here,” Johnny says as you check your phone for Wakako’s message, you can feel his impatience tug at your brain, “I’ve had enough running around for today.”

If you’re tired imagine how I feel, asshole, you think, and he just gives a single dry chuckle in response.

As you walk the blocks back to your apartment, you think about the past months since your life has turned upside down and, as hard as you fight it, you think about Johnny.

Being alone is a luxury you used to take for granted, something you used to actively run from, but now you haven’t been alone in a long while. Never really, truly by yourself. At first, it left you irritable, quick to anger, but now you’re left trying to pinpoint exactly when frustration turned to camaraderie. And, from there, into genuine friendship. For now, Johnny’s really all you have.

You don't want to rely on other people too heavily— your clock is ticking and you’d rather not hurt anyone if you have to go down. Misty and Vik being involved already weighs on your conscience. It’s easier to push everyone else away, keeping them at arm’s length to shield them, that’s what you keep telling yourself. But Johnny… you can’t do that with him. You’re on death’s row together, hand in silver hand.

That doesn’t mean you don’t get lonely or wish you had someone to hold you and warm your bed every once in a while, and you’re beginning to feel the effects. Your shots are getting sloppy, joytoys are starting to catch your eye every now and again— especially when they have dark hair and sunglasses— and it’s infuriating. Sure, you could buy some company for the night, scratch the itch, but it’s the same issue as getting yourself off— having Johnny be your peeping Tom.

Johnny has to be onto you, you know he sees everything through your eyes, he feels everything you feel. It would be easier to hide how you feel from your own damn self. It’s Johnny, Johnny, Johnny on an endless loop. His opinions on anything, everything, and, despite your best efforts, you’ve grown fond of him. The attraction has always been there, but now there’s… an ache, too. More than just the urge to fuck him. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

“Hey, baby,” a pretty joytoy calls out to you as you walk past. You notice Johnny’s choice brand of cigarette dangling precariously from between their fingers, then you hate yourself for noticing, “You look like you could use a massage, relax a little.”

You shake your head and ignore the urge to say yes, please. What comes out instead is: “No, thanks.”

The joytoy shrugs, a tempting smile on their lips as they knock ash from their cigarette, “Your loss.”

The sun is setting, the streets become bathed in pools of warm, natural sunlight and blinding neon signs blinking on for the night. You shove your hands in your jacket pockets, painfully aware that it’s Johnny’s jacket. It’s not his, not really, but the replica is good quality, it even had him fooled for a minute. Each time you put it on, your brain reminds you of that old school movie where a college girl wears her boyfriend’s varsity jacket, this morning had been no different. You just hope Johnny hasn’t seen that.

You know he doesn’t peek around every single corner of your brain, since becoming friends he allows you some privacy, as much as he can. But if your thoughts get loud enough you can’t hold them back. And lately, they have been loud. Half of this sexual frustration is because you haven’t gotten off in a while, sure, but the other half is your brain and body yearning for the one thing you can’t have.

You can feel yourself scowling, still in disbelief that you’re craving a digital construct while simultaneously uncaring that he’s quite literally all in your head, so you actively make the effort to relax your face and body as you reach your megabuilding’s elevator. Once you’re in your apartment, it's easy to distract yourself with a simple routine for the night; lukewarm shower, hastily thrown together dinner, and you’re tucked into your bed in no time.

You leave your blinds open since you like to observe the way Night City wakes up as you’re about to sleep. The traffic, the nonstop chatter from neighbors and people on the street, lights from garish, oversized billboards— you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t miss it. You shut your eyes and listen, focusing on taking deep, even breaths. A minute passes. Then two, then ten, then you lose count, slipping into sleep.

You wake with a start at the sound of people laughing outside your door and realize your sheets are tangled and damp with sweat between your legs. You were dreaming— a warm mouth on your cunt, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it— but the dream and its pleasure fade from you quickly only to leave you sleepless and frustrated all over again. You squeeze your thighs together and roll onto your side, staring at the empty couch across the room.

A fraying end of your sheet catches your eye, you make a mental note to patch it up as you fiddle with it. The border of the sheet only gets worse but you keep curling threads around your finger before unraveling it again and again. It doesn’t help you find sleep or alleviate the ache between your legs so you decide to give the poor fabric a rest and give in to what you need.

Your voice is thick and raspy with sleep, “Johnny, you there?”

A familiar glitching sound fills your ears as he appears across the room, lounging on your couch with one leg on your coffee table, “As if I got anywhere else to be.”

You can’t tell if he’s actually looking at you behind his sunglasses, “Do me a favor. Can you leave for a bit?”

Johnny doesn’t answer, his fingers just tap rhythmically beside his leg.

“Come on,” you groan, just about one step away from begging, “I don’t wanna have to take those pills. Just give me thirty minutes. An hour, maybe.”

He raises one brow and pulls a cigarette from his pocket, “You got plans tonight?” he asks as he lights it. The fire glints off his silver hand for a brief moment before he takes a drag, holding it for a moment before breathing out.

Your clit throbs as you see a flash of his tongue, “Listen, a girl just wants her me time. Just delta the fuck outta here for a while. Hang out in my memories or something.”

Another deep drag off his cigarette, you can almost hear him roll his eyes but he disappears without any protest.

“Preem,” you sigh, voice shaking slightly as you roll onto your back.

You wait a minute or two before you get to work, trying your hardest to remember your pleasant dream as you trail your hands over your body. You slip your hands under your sleep shirt and palm your tits, squeezing them once and idly wondering what Johnny’s metal would feel like on your skin. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, you can feel how soaked you are against your pajama shorts before you reach down and touch yourself.

Once your hand is past the waistband of your shorts, you waste no time in gathering your wetness on your fingers and circling your clit, hasty and impatient. The minutes roll by and you can’t seem to pass over the plateau, each second without orgasm only makes your frustration grow. You roll onto your side, curling one arm under your pillow to support your head as you try to keep your fantasies away from appearing as Johnny, but nothing seems good enough.

“Damn it,” you groan into your pillow, your voice bleeds into a long, wordless whine.

Your body trembles with frustration as you try and decide whether or not to keep going, if it’s even worth it if you’re going to be left unsatisfied. Right as you’re contemplating firing up a BD, you feel weight pressed against your back— Johnny. You almost jump out of your skin and a wash of heat crawls up your neck and into your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin.

“Johnny, the fuck do you think y—“

His hand curls over yours between your legs— the sensation of him touching you is still trippy but you’ve given up trying to figure out how you can feel him touch you long ago— and you bite your tongue to hold back a pleased sound.

“Relax, kid,” his voice comes out in a gritty rumble by your ear as his fingers come down to replace yours on your clit, “You and I are just gonna have a little fun.”

Your brain short circuits as Johnny starts to draw slow, lazy circles around your clit. His whole body is pressed to yours, leaving no space untouched. All you can think to do is grab his forearm and let out a sigh, trying to hold back a full body shiver, “T–Thought I told you to fuck off.”

Johnny chuckles and trails his touch down to where you’re slick and aching, “Something tells me you’re not too upset.”

Your hips roll forward unbidden, chasing the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. It feels much better to have Johnny’s fingers on you instead of yours, you can feel the immediate effect he has on your body.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” his words are almost a laugh of surprise as he suddenly rocks his hips forward.

“Oh,” you groan, pushing your ass back into him, trying to feel how hard he is for you.

You know this isn’t really happening, it’s some trick your brain has cooked up trying to let two simultaneous desires play out. Synapses misfiring, neurons receiving signals that aren't really there. You know Johnny isn’t actually pressed beside you but you don’t care. You can feel him, in your mind and on your body. The cool metal of his fingers is warming against your tits, the quiet hum of his thoughts and desires is buzzing around your head and he’s realer than anything you’ve felt before.

“Get these off,” Johnny impatiently tugs at your pajama shorts until you kick them off. He wastes no time in getting his hands all over you, palming your ass before pulling you against him.

You twist back as much as you can without straining yourself, “Kiss me.”

He scoffs with a touch of humor, “Needy,” but indulges you.

The first press of your lips together is a little rough. The angle is not quite right, his beard scrapes your cheeks and chin, but it’s still him, so you enjoy it all the same. You press your tongue to his bottom lip, still half expecting to touch air and not Johnny, and he reciprocates in kind. His mouth is warm and wet against you, more real and perfect than anything you’ve felt before, he groans into your pliant mouth and the sound goes right to your clit— it’s a damn good kiss.

The hand that isn’t between your legs comes up to curl around your throat, using the lightest of force to keep you in place, close to him. Another pass of his tongue on yours and he’s pulling back, a drawn out groan falls from his lips when he ruts against your ass.

“Fuck,” he sighs against your lips before he moves, turning you over onto your back as he takes up the space between your legs.

Johnny’s back on you again in a instant, his hand returning to rest heavy and grounding on your neck, his thumb rubbing up and down against your jaw as he presses his lips to yours again. You reach your hands up to tangle in his hair and tug, smiling against Johnny’s lips when he makes a gruff, pleased noise in response.

You pull him back by his hair and tug at the collar of his bulletproof vest, cursing when it doesn’t budge, “Take this stupid thing off.”

Johnny lets out a little laugh and pulls back, resting on his knees between your legs, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

You roll your eyes and take off your shirt, tossing it to the side without a care. By the time you have your eyes back on Johnny, he’s naked too. He gives you a little smile and you take the opportunity to flip positions, pulling him down to the bed before you straddle him. He raises his eyebrows when you take his wrists in your hand. You don’t explain yourself as you push his arms above his head and into the pillows.

“Keep ‘em there,” you order, giving him a little smile before you let his wrists go.

You sit back, ignoring his cock pressing hot and insistent between your legs as you take him in, your hands greedily groping his chest. He makes a noise of approval when you start to trail your lips along his tattoos, kissing every so often until you reach his armpit. You trail your thumb through the dark hair there before you keep kissing downward, undeterred. You feel his breath hitch as you breathe in, cigarettes and the deep scent of sweat. It’s intoxicating enough to make you want to press your luck a little more. You close your eyes, kissing the underside of his arm again before you let your tongue peek out and touch skin, daring to take a lick of him. Johnny twitches and lets out an exhale through his nose, his arm almost shaking with the effort to keep still.

You hum, amused, “Ticklish?”

“Alright,” Johnny grumbles, moving to grab you by the waist, “You’ve had your fun.”

He flips you back to how you were originally, tossing you back onto your back hard enough to make you laugh and bounce once on the bed. He curls over you, his hands flex on your sides as he kisses you.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his flesh hand soft as it moves to span over your stomach.

The comment sets you squirming, turning your face to the side with a harsh little sound bubbling up from your chest. You shut your eyes and feel embarrassment prickle up your spine.

“No,” he takes your face in his hand, grips your jaw with purpose and turns to face him, “Look at me so I know you heard me.”

You blink them open, a hint of a scowl on your face as you prepare to tell him to knock it off but his cocky smile stops you. You swallow thickly, a heat crawls its way up your neck onto your face.

“See? Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You try to turn away, your cheeks now hot with embarrassment, but his hand keeps you in place. His eyes flick down to your lips as you laugh, “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.”

He makes a noise, low and deep in his chest, and finally relents, letting your face go with a quiet little tut. Johnny pulls back slightly, just enough space to trail his metal fingers down, pausing a moment to feel the hair between your legs. He turns his wrist to let his thumb part your folds and find your clit.

“Careful with that thing,” you say, your voice touched with nervous, excited laughter.

“Always am.”

Johnny pushes two fingers into your pussy, pumping them a few times until you relax, your slick makes the metal shine. He leans forward, pressing a kiss between your tits before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks for a moment then breaks away, kissing a trail over your chest to your other nipple, biting it gently this time.

Soon enough, he stops, pulls back. You watch him take his cock in hand, your arousal glinting along metal as he spreads it over himself. He thumbs the head of his cock, the sight of him mixing his precum with you makes you dizzy, before he grips himself at the base, his silver hand accented by dark curls. Johnny angles himself downward, teasing you with just the tip again and again until you whine.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he hums, using his human hand to hold himself above you.

“Y-Yea— fuck, yes,” your hands curl around his biceps, impatience makes you dig your nails in.

“Fuck,” Johnny’s voice trembles ever so slightly as he says your name, “C’mere then.”

He presses his cock into you and, after a moment, pushes inside steadily with a groan. You only make a noise of complaint when he stops, hips pressed flush against yours and his cock knocking something tender inside you.

“Johnny, ‘m good,” you gasp, thinking he’s stopped for your sake. He doesn’t move so you tilt your head to the side to bite at his wrist. It’s not enough to hurt him for real, but you soothe it with a kiss anyway, “C’mon, fuck me.”

He nods and only holds still for a moment longer, moving his arms to rest on his elbows on either side of your head. Johnny fucks exactly like you thought he would. Steady and hard, like he means it— he fucks you like he’s proving a point. Every thrust has his balls slap heavy against your ass, a firm, staccato rhythm that has you close to keening. He can feel exactly what you need, no guesswork or faking it when he’s in your head, and you can tell he’s loving it.

You wrap your arms around him, needing to feel him close since you’re not sure how long this’ll last. Johnny presses more of his weight into you when he senses what you’re feeling and your legs almost ache with how far they’re pushed apart, one of his hands comes to cup your cheek, turning your face to his. Even with your eyes shut it’s easy to find his lips, soft amidst the bristle of his beard as he keeps up his pace. He lays into you like he means it, like he’s trying to convince you he’s real and here to stay. Like he’s trying to convince himself.

“You feel good, baby,” Johnny moans, his lips still close enough to brush against yours, “So fuckin’ good. I wanna feel you cum, need to feel it.”

You whimper, taking one arm down to tap his side and pant, “Here— let me just—” Johnny nods and moves, giving you room to snake your hand down to rub your clit in frantic, rough little circles, desperate to cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Johnny murmurs encouragingly, “That’s it.”

“Johnny,” you sigh, your voice warbling as you feel yourself getting close, climbing and climbing until you’re pushed over the edge. You cum holding your breath, your fingers still working your clit until the sensation is too much and you have to pull away and give in to the pleasure. You let out a shuddering groan as you feel your cunt clench around Johnny’s cock, pulsing enough to make your whole body twitch.

His rhythm falters, hips stilling as he presses himself can as close to you as possible, as deep as possible. You feel him fill you, and really, truly, you would swear on your life that it genuinely happened. You moan at the heat of him inside you before you catch yourself muttering praise into his ear, his lips pressing uncoordinated kisses to any part of you he can reach.

Johnny’s head falls to your shoulder as you both catch your breath, neither of you making any moves to pull apart from each other. It’s almost frightening how real this feels, as if he’s actually in your arms now, weighing you down into your mattress. You ignore how much you wish that were true and curl a lock of his hair around your finger before you tuck it behind his ear, trailing your touch down the back of his head. He makes an appreciative sound when you scratch gently at his scalp, so you keep doing so, soothing both him and yourself with the motions.

“There’s somethin’ I wanted to tell you,” he says after a while of laying together, nudging the hinge of your jaw with his nose.

“Yea?”

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Johnny’s breath is hot against your skin as he chuckles, “Almost as much as you like wearin’ ‘em.”

“Shut up, Johnny,” you try to hide the laugh that shakes your voice by tugging on his hair, smiling when he gently bites you in retaliation.

He takes your arm, holding you steady as he kisses the tattooed heart that holds his and your names. Johnny pulls away first and you make an involuntary, upset little noise as he pulls out of you, but he quickly kisses you quiet. The urge to smoke sneaks up on you, now a familiar feeling that comes from Johnny’s influence on you. You blink and he has one in hand, pulled out from whatever digitized place he gets them from.

“Get some sleep, kid,” Johnny murmurs around a cigarette, laying back and lighting it as your eyelids droop.

You let out a little hum, already half asleep, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You hope you get more of these opportunities, to feel him, be felt by him. Tears suddenly prick hot at your eyes, your throat tightens and you wonder how much of the grief you feel is you, how much is him, if the lines are too blurred now to even be able to tell. The hope, you think, might be both of you. It sits heavy with you, heavier than God as you theorize a way that you and Johnny may survive the separation.

“Hey, Johnny,” your voice no more than a whisper, “I wish we could’ve met some other way.”

Johnny takes a deep drag of his cigarette and you feel the ghost of the synth-tobacco burn in your throat. His gaze strays from the posters hung across the room, dark brown eyes trailing over the curve of your cheek and brows until he finds the courage to look you in the eye. His free hand reaches down to find your warm thigh and squeeze it, “Yea.”

You hold back another sentimental thought, too intimate to be said aloud where it can become real, and eventually fall asleep watching the way the neon lights dance through glitching cigarette smoke. You don’t have to say it, Johnny can hear it anyway. He knows, and you know it too.

thank you so so much to @shibaraki for beta reading for me! youre the best 🤍🤍🤍

title is from forever by charli xcx

#you bet your ass i put the johnny + v together forever tattoo in this fic yeehaw #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand smut #johnny ❤️#cyberpunk 2077 smut #📝 — cp2077 #💒.txt

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alanswhores · 7 days

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making smut/fluff of johnny silverhand x readers

if anyone interested ask away!!

will do almost anything you’d like just ask :)

#smut writing #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x v #cyberpunk #johnny silverhand smut

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bishicat · 10 months

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"V placed her chin on the side of the tub, looking over at him. He could’ve leaned forward and kissed her if he wanted."

...so I wanted to illustrate the chapter 2 bathtub scene from silkspecter's fanfic, just like honey (the first fanfic that got me feral for this ship). And since the author left V's appearance pretty ambiguous, I drew my V instead :)

Edit: the author is the wonderful @t-virusvaccine 💖

#“just like honey” was THE fanfic that made me a silverV shipper #it's just so good 😭#the characterization was amazing and the smut was impeccable #sidenote: i dont like this piece too much from an artistic pov haha i couldnt get their skin right and i need more background practice fr #anyways i wanted this to feel like a hazy romantic snapshot of a memory #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanart #cp2077 #cp77 #fem v #cyberpunk 2077 v #silverV #johnny silverhand #just like honey #my art #digital art #bishiart #oc: vivienne

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helloporcelain · 9 months

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Hot Blood

fandom: cyberpunk 2077 pairing: johnny silverhand/fem! v rating: explicit (18+) tags: pwp, piv, thigh riding, light choking, happy ending au where johnny has his body/v is not dying summary: car sex on an extremely hot summer day in a cramped car before a gig to shoot up some wraiths? bad idea, probably. ∘°∘♡∘°∘ READ ON AO3 ∘°∘♡∘°∘

based off a prompt from @seeingstarks

The heat was relentless out in the Badlands when September rolled around.

The temperature easily pushed over 103°, and sun rays were beating down aggressively on top of Johnny and V through the top of his car. A Porsche wasn’t made to be driven around such rough, uneven terrain, but Johnny had insisted on it. He loved his retro car as if it was a long lost daughter he finally had been reunited with. A little whirring, mechanical child on wheels from 50 years past.

V typically vetoed no to the Porsche for gigs, but it had been a while since Johnny had driven them both and the job didn’t seem like it would be too driving heavy, so she relented and let him take the wheels. He really wasn’t the best behind the steering wheel, at least not since he had gotten used to an actual body (not that Johnny would ever admit it) and V preferred that Johnny got some practice out in open land and not run over innocent jaywalkers in the city.

It was, however, definitely not V’s car of preference.

For one thing, it was a small car. V wasn’t a large woman, so why did she feel suffocated in it, especially if she was packing heat? It felt as if there was barely room for her to stretch her legs out, nevermind hauling a bunch of gear, guns and grenades around in there without setting something off and blowing them both to sorry bits.

But Johnny didn’t seem to mind – it was one of the few times the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, which made the decision to let him drive it worth it in the end for V. Johnny had carried around a tenseness in his body ever since he came back, always on edge. He did his best to hide it, and if V hadn’t shared a brain with him, she might not have noticed. Johnny hadn’t fully believed he was worthy of a second chance, but V had believed nothing else more intensely.

Still, she regretfully contemplated the decision as sweat dripped down her forehead, onto her bare lashes. He rolled the front windows down to get some kind of breeze because the AC was weak. V had been bugging him to get it fixed for weeks but Johnny had stubbornly snapped that he didn’t “want some fucking Night City idiot fucking around with his car.”

V wiped her damp forehead with the back of her palm and let out an annoyed huff, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She had picked out some denim shorts that day, yet it was still too hot and now she had to experience the displeasure of her thighs sticking slick to the leather material.

“Toughest solo in Night City,” Johnny drawled, looking at her over his sunglasses. “But she can’t handle a little heat.” V pulled a loose bra strap back up on her right shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I get that you’re already going to hell Johnny and okay with this heat hellscape, but some of us would like to not be slowly cooked to death.” She paused, reading something on her holo and continued, “I already messaged Claire and she’s going to fix it and you’re going to let her do it without complaints.”

Johnny grunted in disapproval but didn’t put up much of a fight. Instead, he looked out the window and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to an old rock song she was not too familiar with. Everything that mattered to Johnny was rooted in nostalgia, and V was included in that now.

He pulled up to an abandoned gas station just outside of Rocky Ridge and parked the car behind the building just slightly so that they would still have a view of any cars coming down the road. The gig would have Johnny and V wait around 30 minutes before the targets – Wraiths – rolled in as sundown approached.

Kill them all and make out with some equipment that Saul needed. Simple gig.

V groaned, tossed her seatbelt off and reached towards the dashboard of the car to tinker with the AC settings – with no luck. The little bursts of air coming through felt like pathetic little hiccups, and her entire body was dripping in sweat. Johnny leaned back and watched as V jabbed her fingers at the console for a solution.

“You wouldn’t have survived a day in Texas, princess,” he muses, shifting his seat back. “Get used to it, we’re going to be cooking here for a minute till those motherfuckers roll in.”

V gave him a cranky scowl. “Your obsession with this car is concerning on a fundamental level.”

Johnny opened up all the windows and pulled out a cigarette to light up, and V took a deep breath in preparation for the smoke that was about to cloud her senses. After a deep drag he let his left arm hang out over the door and she continued on her rant.

“You have the most advanced cars in the world at your fingertips, and yet you prefer…” her arms flung wildly around the little space available. “…this stupid broken car!”

V caught a glimpse of how she looked in the mirror and she definitely looked a little crazed. Her cheeks were flush with pink and her usually pin straight hair was turning frizzy. Johnny was right, she wouldn’t have lasted even an hour in the humid Southern summers. She looked back at him and took in his appearance. Sure, Johnny was sweating too, but he looked unbothered. He had chosen to wear his leather pants regardless of the weather that day and he didn’t even look like he was struggling with them.

At that exact moment, she resented how good he looked.

“I take offense to that V. I’ll have you know…” Johnny took another puff of his cigarette before offering it over to V. “This was a fucking chick magnet.” She accepted it and begrudgingly started to smoke. He wasn’t a part of her anymore, but the cravings still hit her if she saw Johnny smoke first. It was exactly what she needed, and she felt herself relax slightly after the first exhale.

“Oh boy, here we go. Gonna regale me with stories of your drug addled sexcapades?” She took another long hit, quickly put it out, then tossed it out the window on her side of the car. “I know they were desperate for some rockstar dick, but I highly doubt they actually enjoyed the cramped experience. Only teenagers fuck in cars.”

Johnny gave a crooked smirk. “Au contraire, V. Au fuckin’ contraire.” His hands went to the sign of his seat to pull it down, taking up more of what little space was left in the backseat. He leaned back and put his arms above his head, and closed his eyes in a show of shush, I’m daydreaming now.

“Fucking preem experience having a chick bounce up and down on me in here. Such a compact space means you’re forced to fit all up against each other, and it’s tight. Doesn’t get old.”

V fiddled around with her rifle, making sure the bullets were all loaded. She rolled her eyes at him, but her curiosity was piqued slightly. It was an automatic reaction, something she couldn’t control even when her mind signaled: not now ! The second Johnny started being suggestive at all – V couldn’t help it – her body would react without her brain’s explicit permission.

They had already fucked twice that morning; sleepy, leisurely sex in bed, then he had come up behind her in the bathroom while she was drying her hair and had bent her over the sink. Not that V was complaining. Johnny had been insatiable ever since they had settled into “normal life”, but she never entertained anything during a job. She was a professional, after all.

“Sure,” she said, giving her gun a wipe down. “I bet they loved bumping their heads and getting thigh cramps.”

Johnny responded by taking the rifle out of her hands and pulling it out of her reach. She made a noise of surprise and tried to rustle it out of his arms but no luck, her arms were short and he was leaning back with it. “You won’t get it back from there,” he commented.

“Not funny Johnny,” she scolded. “The Wraiths could be here any second. Give it back.”

“We know when they’re coming, V. Saul has their routes down to a fucking T.”

His eyebrows wiggled annoyingly in the direction of his lap, signaling for V to climb on top of him to retrieve her gun. Her lips went flat in disapproval for a beat, before she twisted her body around, scaled over the drink holder and gingerly into his lap. “You’re so pea-brained,” she said.

The space was cramped, though it did help that his seat was leaned back a bit. She could feel the heat against the thick material of his pants permeating against her legs. Her brain paused on the sensation against her, before reminding her why she was on him in the first place and she leaned forward to grab her gun. V failed to grab it – Johnny quickly tossed it behind the back of his chair, too out of the way for her to retrieve it in the current position.

“Dick,” she grumbled. V tried to move over him to reach behind, but his hands found their way to her hips and he squeezed down firmly, keeping her pressed against his right thigh.

“I think I might love summer,” he said. She squirmed against his hold but he just held her down tighter. Johnny’s cock hardened and strained against his pants. “Know why? Because you wear these hot little shorts like the fucking cocktease you are.”

V’s eyes glazed over briefly as she checked the clock out of nerves – they still had 20 minutes before any of the Raffen Shivs were due to show up, but she wouldn’t apologize for being too sure. She snapped out of the thought as Johnny groped at her tits, rolling his thumb over a hard nipple through her white tank top. “One hell of an outfit to wear to a possible shootout, V.”

He leaned forward to kiss her mouth, before trailing down to her jaw and neck. She looked down at him, her heart rate increasing quickly at the thought of fucking him. It would be stupid. It would be reckless.

“I didn’t wear this to get your dick hard idiot,” she breathlessly replied in between his wet kisses. “Earth to Johnny. Normal humans dress appropriately for the weather.”

“Then take it off,” he shrugged, tugging at the cotton material. V let him pull the top off over her head, tossing it over to her seat. Johnny didn’t have her take off her bra, instead opting to pull it down so that her tits popped out over the cups. He leaned forward to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and twirling the nub in his mouth, all the while palming his cock through his pants.

If V was pink earlier, she was full on lobster red now between the heat of the car and the flush of the grind against his leather pants. She had opted out of underwear that morning, mostly due to having put off laundry for so long that she ran out of panties. And now that decision had come back to haunt her as every twitch against him ran a shock through her clit, begging her to roll against him harder.

Johnny let go of one breast and moved onto the neglected side, biting down on the nipple. She let out a whining sound of pleasure as she held her arms against his headrest and rocked against him faster. “Fuck. God damn it, Johnny.” Her clit was growing swollen against the denim fabric of her shorts and the clumsy pace of her fucking his thigh.

He pulled away from her chest and a hand moved up to finger his old dogtags that she wore, which were now jingling in rhythm with her grinding. “That’s my girl.”

His fingers wrapped around her throat and gently squeezed. “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Use me. Make yourself feel good.” She let out a choked moan when her clit passed over some kind of raised, ridged material in his pants.

She rolled her hips against him, angling to make sure her clit continued to hit the same spot again and again. Johnny wanted to fuck her, badly, but wanted to watch her come apart like this even more. V’s body was slick with sweat, and he knew she would find it annoying in the aftermath, but Johnny loved how completely natural of a state she was in.

Something organic, something real, and something only his to witness.

“So fucking sexy baby. Should see yourself right now. Making a mess on me. Could cum just looking at you V.”

“Idiot,” she gasped. V worked herself at a frantic and shameless pace, and he pulled her face closer to his so he could kiss her. She could feel the pressure building in her soaked cunt, letting out moans that were muffled by Johnny’s mouth. The kiss was messy as he sucked on her tongue and their saliva dribbled down her chin.

V lurched forward when her orgasm came crashing down like a lightning bolt, her climax shaking throughout her whole body. V’s hips bucked against his leg as she rode out the rest of the wave, completely engulfed in the embrace of his arms, face buried into the crook of his neck. Johnny was drenched in sweat too, smelling vaguely of soap, but mostly smoke.

After a few seconds, Johnny chuckled and brushed V’s damp hair away from her forehead. She was distinctly aware of the painful erection he still had straining against his pants. “My stupid broken car still has women creaming their panties 50 years later.” She nipped at his neck and shifted her body up against him to press on his hardon.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Johnny. I’m not wearing any panties.”

Johnny let out a groan and his hands squeezed her shoulders, pushing her back down on him. One of his arms shot to her shorts and pulled at the zipper ungracefully. “Get these off,” he growled. V leaned back and looked beyond the car towards the road. Still empty, but her brain issued a huge red flag at the thought of rogue nomads popping up behind them and popping one in their heads…

She could picture the tombstone – RIP V, she died doing what she loved most: Johnny Silverhand.

Ugh. Bad idea, V chided herself silently.

Then she said it out loud too, still not entirely used to him not being able to hear everything she thought. “Bad idea, Johnny. We don’t have time.”

Johnny went to work on his zipper, tugging his cock free from the restraints of his oppressive pants. He started slowly stroking and she couldn’t see his eyes through the lenses of his dark glasses. “V, you can either ride my cock now or I’ll jerk off and you can walk back to camp with cum on your shorts. Your choice.” He stroked faster and his eyebrow furrowed as she considered the decision with 15 minutes left on the clock in her head.

It was awkward to lift herself up from him to take her shorts off but she managed to peel them off and fling them to her seat. She wasn’t confident it was very sexy to watch her do this, but Johnny was still intently watching her as he masturbated, and she suddenly was very aware of the hot air on her naked lower half.

V tried to look down between them as she lined his cock up with her entrance, letting the tip slide between her folds. Johnny was already leaking precum, and before V got the chance to lower herself, he grabbed her waist and yanked her down to sit on his cock. Her eyes popped wide as he sat her down all the way, no space, not an inch in between them.

“Johnny,” she gasped.

“Ride my cock V, need to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.”

One of Johnny’s arms curled around her waist, the other one landed on her thigh as he slammed her down onto his dick. V readjusted the angle so her legs weren’t caught in any tight crevices, and when she was finally comfortable she started to move quickly against him. Johnny groaned when he felt the fullness of her weight, the tightness of her cunt fully engulfing him.

“Love how needy you are for my cock V, fuckin anywhere, anytime, my fucking girl.”

Johnny was barely holding it together. His glasses were rocking about, threatening to fly off with each violent slam that V pushed down on. Her wetness was soaking through everywhere, mixing with their sweat, making the car smell like a hotbox of pure sex.

“Fuck, Johnny, you know I can’t say no to you,” V panted, holding herself steady. “You’re– so fucking deep.” She spread her thighs a bit wider, as much as the space allowed, Johnny clutched her tight as he continued his rocking pace against her, so profoundly deep inside she thought she may have felt it in her stomach.

His hands were digging into her so hard it was going to leave a bruise after. V was so tight, Johnny groaned like a man who was in the process of losing his mind. “Fucking made for my cock. My fucking perfect cocksleeve.”

V leaned in to capture his lips, biting down on them to make them bleed. She had to admit: no matter how many times they fucked, she still got the same butterflies that lurched in her body with how they fit perfectly. As if it was proof that there was a God somewhere and he did actually craft their bodies with the intention of them finding each other, somehow, half a century apart.

She held him against her as she began to rock her body, her clit rubbing against his body with every roll of her hips. Johnny groaned as they kissed, and V knew he was close to coming. His hands wandered down to grip her ass tightly, impaling her down on him with more force than she could hope to do on her own. “Johnny,” she gasped. “Need your fucking cum in me.”

Sweat rolled down their bodies like droplets of rain. The combined body heat was making it hard to breathe, but she let her hands wander to his throat anyway. V didn’t do the choking too often, but thought herself a giver sometimes. Johnny was close, his fingers were digging a death grip into her and his pace was becoming erratic. She closed both her hands around his throat and squeezed, holding her gaze on his face. “What’s taking so long, you want them to see me riding your cock babe?”

A grunt of approval resounded deep in Johnny’s chest. V’s toes curled as she felt him impale into her once more, a sudden and violent rope of cum shooting into her core. She choked Johnny a bit harder as she slowly rocked against him, taking in the feeling of her pussy milking his cock for every drop. One hand left his neck and wandered down to feverishly rub at her very swollen clit, her orgasm crashing down quickly in sparks. Johnny and V clung to each other, skin sticking to skin; neither one wanted to be the first one to get up from the mess they’ve left. “Eight minutes,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you were constantly checking the clock the whole time, because I did, you little control freak.” Johnny replied, fidgeting with his glasses. She leaned back to put her tank top on and laughed.

“One of us has to try and keep us alive,” she smiled. They both looked at each other with soft eyes until a loud sound in the distance caused them to stiffen up. “What the fuck was that?” They both whipped their heads around and craned their necks to see a gaggle of trucks looming back in the gas station. A couple of heads were pointed their way, some shouting and pulling out their guns. Johnny sheepishly watched as V frantically hopped over to her seat to pull on her shorts.

“Fuuuck me. What did I say, Johnny? What did I say!? Any second!”

V was in a fit of panic, and all Johnny could offer up was a shrug. "Saul was wrong."

She slapped his forehead (to which he simply responded: ow) and haphazardly threw out a grenade in the distance, hoping it would buy them another few seconds.

“Pass me my rifle. Now.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cyberpunk fanfic #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand/v #johnny/v #v cyberpunk 2077 #cp 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 smut #johnny silverhand x v #silverv #johnny x v #porcelainfic #female v #v cyberpunk #cyb

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lillian-gallows · 9 months

Text

Take Me Back to Eden

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Reader (V)

Warnings: Reader is V, No use of V, No use of Y/N (Don't get used to that from me lol), Cunnilingus (F receiving oral sex), P in V sex, Fluff with a little bit of angst (because V/Reader is a dummy and so is Johnny), Vaginal fingering, use of pet names (Bright-eyes and baby), alcohol consumption.

Summary: V/Reader is in love with the reformed ghost in her head, but she's pretty sure it's just her, oh how wrong she is.

GIF by: Keanuphile

Notes: I finished the game, I'm not okay, so I'm writing fanfiction about it. Cross posted to AO3

Minors DNI

The tequila burned as it raced down your throat, so did the whiskey chaser that followed it. The music of The Afterlife was pounding in your ears and brain as the liquor took hold and made your muscles relax, jaw no longer clenching quite so tight.

You caught Claire’s eye and lifted the empty glass in a wordless request for another, which got a nod of acknowledgement in return, but she was already with a couple of customers so it would be a moment. That was fine. You were nothing if not patient.

So patient that you managed to get yourself stuck in a loop of waiting for the reformed ghost in your brain to realize you’re in love with him and had been since you helped him go on a date with Rogue, like a gonk, and knowing he probably never will, or if he does figure it out, to care enough to act on it.

You’d seen his memories. Know what loving Johnny Silverhand does to a person. Yet here you are, as if one almost death sentence wasn’t enough for you.

There was a split second, when you were carrying each other out of Arasaka HQ, when you thought he might have felt the same. You’d fallen to your knees, legs refusing to keep going, and he’d gripped you tight and said you needed to get up, that he couldn’t leave without you, that he needed you.

At the time you’d thought there was something else there, the way he’d said it sounded so…Soft. But now you’re pretty sure it was the adrenaline and your grey matter still reeling from Alt fucking with it to give you your body back that made you cling to your hopeless desperation for the man you knew you couldn’t have, not in the way you wanted him.

“You stare any harder at that shot glass and your Koroshi’s’ll shoot lasers.” Came Claire’s voice, yanking you from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted back in your seat while the other woman refilled both glasses. “Thanks.” You said before throwing the first one back.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Bartender asked as she leaned on the counter, giving you her full attention. After helping Claire resolve her business with Sampson, you both got closer, close enough that you felt comfortable telling her about Johnny and the Relic. Johnny had teased you about the attraction you had felt toward the other woman, but it was nothing compared to what you felt toward him.

“Gotta be paradise for that to happen.” You answered before shaking your head. “Nah, just me being a gonk, like always.” You said it more to the glass in your hand than the woman in front of you.

“You know, torturing yourself won’t solve anything.” Claire said lowly, so only you could hear her. “He hasn’t been to see Rogue since you both got back. From what you’ve told me, that means something.”

Your face was warm as you met Claire’s gaze, whether you were just that easy to read or Claire was using her magic bartender powers you didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. She was right.

“I’m not gonna be another notch in his belt.” You downed your remaining drink. “And I’m not going to follow him around like some thirsty little groupie.” It came out a little bitter, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t picturing Alt when you said the words.

You’re being unfair, you know you are. Alt loved Johnny for real, that much was obvious, so summing her up as something as simple as a groupie is cruel to the deceased woman, but you can’t fight the sour burn in your belly that threatens to turn you green.

Claire let out a sigh and shook her head. “Yet, that’s what you’re doing.” That gets a glare and Claire’s eyes are hard as she stares back. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right.” She steadies herself on the bar with both hands and she leans into your space. “You told me yourself that he hates when people beat around the bush. So fucking talk to him before you end up old, grey, and still pinning. Or worse, one of you dies again.”

That snaps you from your cloud of self-pity, but not in the way Claire was probably hoping for. “Whatever.” You grumbled somewhat childishly as you flicked the Eddies to pay your tab and got up.

You knew the other was watching you go but didn’t care to look back. She was right, and it pissed you off. Not the part where Claire called you out, you deserved that, needed to hear it even. The part that you hated was that you really were exactly what you didn’t want to be, a hopelessly in love groupie following Johnny around like a horny puppy, except without any of the payoff of you two actually fucking.

And the saddest part was that you would rather keep pinning than be fuck-buddies, you wouldn’t be able to keep feelings out of it and you don’t even want to begin to imagine being on the receiving end of some of the shit Johnny said to Alt, and he actually loved her…What hope would you have?

It was raining when you got outside, and you considered calling your car instead of taking Jackie’s bike, it had a rain cover and would be fine for a night, but you needed to think and you couldn’t do much of that if you were driving, so rather than either option you turned and started walking, would it take longer? Sure, but that was what you needed to think, or spiral, whichever came first.

The rain was quick to plaster your hair to your face and neck, trailing cold lines of water down your skin that caused goosebumps to bloom, thinking about how much you hated Johnny when you met, how much he hated you right back. You kept walking.

Then those trails of water along with new water falling on you soaked through your clothes and chilled you to the bone, thinking about when you realized you’d fallen for him, lying in bed the night after his date with Rogue with a pit in your gut but determined not to say anything about it, praying he couldn’t feel it through you. You kept walking.

After a bit your shoes began to squish with every step, socks drenched and pooling water in your shoes, thinking about what he’d said that night on the way out of Arasaka HQ, about needing you, he’d breathed the words like he didn’t want anyone else to hear them, like they were for you and you alone and it would be a crime for any other ears to hear them. You kept walking.

You started to shake as Megabuilding H10 came into view, harsh shivers that made your teeth chatter till you clenched your jaw to make it stop, but all that did was make the shakes move down to your shoulders, thinking about how your heart had grabbed onto his whispered plea like it was a declaration of love even though it was nothing of the sort. You kept walking.

A puddle formed under you on the elevator floor as the floor numbers flashed and ads blasted in your ears, but you weren’t paying them any attention, you couldn’t care less about Milfguard or whatever new flavor of Mr. Whitey’s was being screamed about, you were too busy buzzing with the warring hope and dread of the thought that he would be home when you walked through the front door. You stopped walking when you got to the door.

Your fingers hovered over the button that would open it, but you were frozen in place, a new puddle forming, water dripping from your free hand would echo if the atrium wasn’t so goddamn loud.

“You gonna keep staring at it? Or do I gotta move you?” Came the one voice you still weren’t sure if you wanted to hear.

Looking back, you met Johnny’s gaze, or rather your reflection in his aviators, God you looked like a soaked cat…

Rather than answer him you pressed the button and watched the door woosh open, walking in with him right behind you felt like being watched by a warden.

“Why the Hell are you wet? You look like you walked home.” He asked as the door closed behind him; you couldn’t look at him again.

“Cuz, I did.” There was no use lying, anything you could come up with was just as stupid as the truth.

You could practically hear him lift his brow. “The fuck you do that for? Vic still has both of us on probation, getting sick could be a fucking death sentence.” Annoyed disapproval drips from his voice the same water is still dripping from your hair.

“Needed to think.” You offered lamely as you made for the closet, intent on both getting dry clothes and not letting him see your face.

“About what?” He asks from by the bed, where you’d seen Nibbles lounging, but when you didn’t respond you heard him take a few steps closer. “About what?” He asked a little louder, either thinking you hadn’t heard him, or intent on not letting you ignore him.

“Lots of shit, Johnny. What? You want a fucking catalog of my daily thoughts? Didn’t get enough of that when you were in my head?” You snapped sharper than intended, but you just wanted to make him shut up.

You heard his footsteps once more, and before you could move or look at him, he was at your back. “Thought we’d moved past snapping at each other to avoid talking about shit.” His tone was hard but not cold, like he could tell something was up.

“It doesn’t matter…” Why did you sound so fucking small? You hated it.

“Bright-Eyes…Look at me.” His hand feels like fire when it lands on the icy skin of your shoulder, where he tried to turn you, but you resisted. “Please…Look at me.” Your heart stops, it’s like you can hear the words that haunt you all over again. “Get up. Please, I can’t leave without you. I need you…Get up.” Same tone, begging and just barely this side of desperation.

And like a sleeper agent that’s heard her trigger word, you turned, but you can’t lift your eyes to meet his, you know he’s taken off those damn glasses and you can’t bear to see his eyes looking at you, your heart will store it away just like those words, and you can’t handle yet another thing making you hope like a gonk for more than you’re allowed to have.

People like you don’t get to love and be happy, if they were, Jackie would still be alive, and Misty wouldn’t be alone.

As if sensing that you won’t meet his gaze, Johnny lifts his metal hand as his flesh one slides down to your upper arm, searing hot skin making yours tingle, even his metal hand feels warmer than you, a shiver of a different kind rolls down your spine and you want to yank yourself out of his hold, but his grip tightens just a little, like he knew what you were thinking, but then he probably did. You’d put money on it that he knows your every micro expression and what they all mean, which terrifies you if you’re honest.

“Go take a shower, you’re freezing.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face, smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, such a Johnny smell. He let you go to reach past you for the clean clothes you were going to grab and passes them into your hands.

As if a spell was broken, you moved around him to head across the room to the bathroom, but you could still feel his eyes on you. The urge to snip at him about watching you undress sat on the back of your tongue, but you swallowed it.

By the time you’re pulling your wet tank top over your head, you no longer feels the heat of his eyes on you, then you heard the radio turn on, some oldies rock station playing some ballad that you don’t recognize, but you hear him quietly sing along to it, for a nanosecond you think you hear more emotion in it than when he normally mumbled along with the radio, but shake the thought away.

The water feels pleasantly scalding when you step through the fog of steam and into the spray. Tilting your head into the warmth to wash away the chilled water still clinging to your hair, you hear his voice no longer melding with that of the radio, though you still hear the song playing over the sound of the showerhead.

Eyes closed to keep the water out of them, you feel his eyes on you once more, not as close as by the closet, but certainly not from across the room. Running a hand over your face to clear your vision you turned and were met with Johnny standing there looking like he’s debating something.

“Johnny?” You questioned, no real thought given to the fact that you’re naked, he’s seen you a dozen times since Mikoshi, granted all those where when you both were recovering and you needed help getting dressed, but it was all the same to you.

Hearing you say his name seemed to help him make whatever decision he was working on, and before you could react or say anything else, he was crowding into your space, both of you under the spray, drenching him in hot water. But neither cared about that, neither was thinking about that, not when his lips were pressed to yours so hard it’s like he needs it to breathe.

Your back pressed to the wall, his hands holding your face, rings rapidly growing warm from your skin and the water, metal hand doing the same, the coarse hair on his face rubbing against your skin, making the goosebumps that had long since settled return full force.

You kissed him back for all of a second before you realized what was happening and pushed him back, he put a few inches between your faces, but gave no more land than that. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?” You panted, looking up at him with a tentative look of hope that mixed with fear and it damn near breaks his heart to see it.

“Not making the same mistakes twice.” He answered, thumb brushing over your lower lip, clearly thinking about kissing you again.

Your heart seized in her chest again. “Stop it.” It comes out cold and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting it.

“What?” He’s dumbfounded, had be misread things? No way, he knows what he saw when he was in your head, what he felt.

“Don’t fuck with me, Johnny.” The hope in your eyes turned hard, a wall going up that he’s all too familiar with. “I’m not her.” Your voice is small again.

His shock melted away as understanding took its place. “I know. Never wanted you to be her.”

“Then what the Hell are you doing?” Your fingers had curled into the wet fabric of his shirt, so he can neither move closer nor pull away.

“I already said.” He answered before taking a slow breath. “I was shit when I had her and lost her because I was a fucking moron, and I did a lot of shit in her name after that that didn’t fix anything. I never deserved her, and I sure as shit don’t deserve you, but fuck if I’m not going to shoot my shot and try.” He said with the same conviction he had when he went on one of his anti-corp rants, only this was a lot softer, a lot less angry.

As he spoke, he watched the hardness in your eyes soften and that hope return, but it’s slow, you’re digging your claws in, trying not to get your hopes up, still waiting for the Gotcha “I won’t be another quick fuck…I can’t…I can’t be no strings…” It feels searing admitting to that.

He leans in once more, till his forehead meets yours, eyes unable to look anywhere but at each other. “Neither can I.” You can barely hear him over the shower, but you do, and your heart races.

Using the leverage of your hold on his shirt, you pulled him back in, mashing your lips to his in a messy desperate kiss that steals both your breaths, falling into him with slow tentative twists of your lips.

His hands trail down from your face, over your neck where your hair is plastered to your skin, down your body, avoiding every sensitive place that you crave his touch, to settle on your hips, pulling you closer and grinding against you.

He feels you shiver against him at the stimulation, little though it is, but he savors it all the same, right along with the way your beath hitches in your chest, he wants to hear it again, wants to hear more, wants to make you cry out his name and tell the whole megabuilding who you belong to.

He’s loathed to do it, but he breaks the kiss and slips his hands down to grip the backs of your thighs to lift you up, instinct taking over to wrap your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands slipping into his hair to twist in the strands, softer than one might expect.

A lazy hand shot out to turn off the shower before he left the bathroom, leaving a trail of water on the floor to the bed. Rather than toss you on the bed like you expected him to, he sits on the edge and settles you on his lap, and with you secured there his hands moved up into your hair to pull you into another deep kiss that’s all tongues and teeth.

You wonder if he can feel your heart racing where your chests are pressed together, your hands are shaking as they come to rest on the space where his neck meets his shoulders, fingers still twisted in the wet strands of his hair, unable to pull the away, scared you’ll float away if you stop touching him.

This is a dream; it has to be. But does that really matter? If it is then you never want to wake up, and if it’s not then you won’t have to.

The heat at the apex of your thighs had begun to ache, craving something, anything more from him. You don’t even seem to notice when your hips start to grind against him, and it pulls a hungry grin from him that breaks your kiss, and you make this pitiful little cutoff humming sound when he meets you halfway with his own hips, eyes rolling closed and face tilted forward, forehead to forehead.

He can’t take his eyes off you, never could. That used to piss him off, reminded him too much of Alt and how she made him feel, but this was different, both women pulled his passion to the forefront, but only you had ever made him feel like he was capable of being decent, like he deserved to be.

Now, as your breaths mingle, hips driving against each other like they’ll die if they stop, he can’t help but take in every minute detail, from the color of your lashes to the way the space between your brows crinkles as they draw together in desperate need to the panting breaths falling from your kiss swollen lips that he craves.

But there’s something else he craves even more.

Taking hold of you once more he flips you both, laying you on the bed beneath him, you don’t resist, all too happy to do whatever it takes to have more of him on you, around you, in you.

Your hair splays under your head like a halo and Johnny thinks that if you’re what God looks like, then maybe he was wrong not believe.

He hovers over you for a moment, taking in your face, your body, the way your chest heaves with every desperate breath. Then, when his forever limited patience runs out, he trails his hands down your sides, over your hips, and stopping on your thighs, strong and soft as they part so willingly for him.

Leaning in his lips follow a similar road as that of his hands, making detours at your tits to take a nipple in his mouth to suck and nip, making the flesh turn blush dark and your back arch up into him, a shuddery sigh passing from your lips. He could live the rest of his life lavishing your breasts like this, but the heat from between your thighs is beckoning him.

So, he continues on his path, pressing his lips to every new patch of skin he reaches till he gets to your hips, where he bites down till a pretty red, soon to be purple, mark blooms. Your hands thread into his hair as he marks you, but other than twisting into the strands you don’t do anything, needing the anchor more than anything else.

Settling between your thighs he’s met with the beautiful sight that is your glisteningly wet pussy, wanton and waiting for him to give whatever he will.

Ever the tease, Johnny leaves a couple more darkening marks on your inner thighs, watching your body tense in pleasure, before finally, finally, running his tongue over your aching heat, from bottom to top, where your clit is swollen and begging to be touched.

Your whole body jumped when he flicked his tongue over it, thighs trying to close on his head out of reflex, but his hands, strong yet gentle, hold them open as he latches on and sucks for only a second, yanking a gasp from between your lips.

“Fuck…” You breathed, sounding more like another reflex than an actual thought.

“We’ll get to that, Bright-eyes…Just let me take care of you…” He purrs against your flesh.

Trailing his flesh hand down your leg then back up again he runs his fingertips slowly around the opening of your beautiful pussy, it’s an almost reverent action, coating his skin before pushing one in, a slow and shallow in and out.

He was never really this gentle with Alt, she’d never wanted him to be, and Johnny’s pretty sure that if he asked you, you’d tell him the same to protect your ego, but the way your body was melting under him told a different story.

It told of a woman so used to being treated roughly, used to sandy winds whipping her face and sun scorched skin, fists and bullets, hard fucking and yanked hair, that all it took was a few gentle touches and sweet words and she was melting like so much ice in his hands.

It both warmed his heart and made it ache.

Soon enough he’d eased that one clever finger in enough to curl it up and brush against that spongy spot he was dying to see your reaction to.

It was everything he hoped it would be and more. Your cunt tightened around him sharply, your thighs did the same, but his shoulders didn’t let them get far, you let out moans and gasps that were nothing short of pure music. All those things he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected your hand to slip from his hair and fall down to where his metal hand was still holding your thigh to grip his fingers, a silent plea to let you hold it if ever he saw one.

So, he did.

Johnny wasn’t the type to hold hands, something so elementary just wasn’t his thing, but a lot of things weren’t his ‘thing’ till you, his Bright-eyes. So, he’d hold your hand, he’d never let it go if that’s what you wanted of him, he’d live and die by those digits wrapped around his.

And he slipped a second finger into you, giving you only a second to get used to the sensation before he was back to massaging your G-Spot with his fingertips, but that wasn’t all he did, he reattached his lips to your clit and ran over it with his tongue in circles, giving it the occasional suck to pull a jolt from your body.

You were like a livewire of coiled muscles and aching for release. Your eyes had long since fallen closed, unable to keep them open, gripping his hand like it was the only thing keeping you on this plain of existence, pussy gripping his fingers like a vice.

“Johnny…” You pleaded, high and just this side of a whine. “Please…” Your thighs were starting to shake as you begged, so very close.

But Johnny is a bastard, even when he’s being nice, so he has to tease you just a little more. “Please, what? What do you want, Bright-eyes?” He asked lowly, smirking against you. “Gotta use your words.” He felt you clench at those words, but he was already teasing you, so he’d address that later.

“…Please…So close…” You managed, sounding close to crying.

His smirk grew just a little more. “Then open those eyes and look at me. Let me watch you cum on my fingers.” He ordered, keeping you teetering on that edge till you obeyed.

Your gaze was foggy with pleasure and wet with unshed tears, it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire fucking life.

His eyes never left yours as he returned to your clit and worked it and his fingers till those tears slipped free, leaving wet lines down your face, but your eyes didn’t close, though it looked like you were fighting it with your whole being.

He watched as you teetered on the edge for all of a few seconds before plummeting off it in a show of dilated pupils, choked off moans, clenching muscles, hand white knuckle with how tight it held his hand, and trembling thighs, well, more like trembling everything.

But the thing that drew him in, the thing that made his chest feel tight and his cock jump in his jeans, is that your eyes never once, not for even a second, left his. Those endless portals of life stayed locked on the bottomless expanse of brown of his own eyes.

After a long several moments he had to break eye contact because he felt like he’d cum in his pants like a teenager if he didn’t.

Pressing a kiss to your thigh, still shaking, leaving a wet mark where your slick clung to his facial hair, then left a trail of such marks as he kissed his way back up your body, till he got back to your lips, where you met him halfway, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Neither let go of the others hand, but your free hand cradled his cheek like he was made of porcelain, your palm calloused from years in the desert and Solo work but still so soft.

You stayed like that, lip locked and sharing the same air, for a bit while you came down from your high, and when you were dragging him back down to grind against him once more, he pulled away just long enough to devest himself till he matched your nudity, then he was back again.

He didn’t need to ask if you needed a condom, he knew you had an implant, so he wasted no time lining up and slowly pushing in, taking it inch by inch because even Johnny knew he was too big to go in all at once like an asshole, and there were some lines he’d never cross, hurting his bedfellows was one of them, less they asked real nice of course, but there was time for that later, right now his Bright-eyes needed soft, and damn if you weren’t going to get it.

Your face twisted in pleasure as he entered, and a broken gasp fell from your lips. “I know, baby, I know…” He breathed before pressing his lips to your neck. “So good, fuck…” You were tighter than he expected, but he wasn’t shocked, you hadn’t had any partners when he was in your head, and you didn’t seem particularly interested in finding any after you were in your own bodies.

Your hand returned to gripping his metal one as soon as he was back on you, the other found its home on his shoulder where your nails dug in, the pinch of pain sent a thrill down his spine that made it harder not to thrust into you.

“Johnny.” You said in a breath, getting his attention.

“Hm?” He hummed against your pulse point.

“If you don’t move in the next three seconds, I’m going to do it for you.” You threatened, though with how hard you were breathing it was a loose threat at best.

He smiled, not smirked, not grinned, honest to God smiled as he looked down at you. Rather than make some smart comment, he did as you asked, pulling out to the tip then pushing back in, so slow it was torture for both of you, especially when your still sensitive walls fluttered around him.

It was slow, or at least slower than you expected, his build up in speed. A small part of you expected him to be rough with you, you expected him to fuck you, not this. There was no way to describe this but as making love.

Just as quickly as before that coil in your belly started to tighten, and Johnny seemed to see it immediately. “Look at you…” He breathed as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open. “Taking me so well, baby…So fucking well…” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you couldn’t help the way it made your insides clench.

Every roll of his hips had his tip brushing hard against your G-Spot, while the hair at his base kept a steady pressure against your clit, and that didn’t even cover what his lips and words were doing to you. Your whole body felt so hot you thought you might combust, but you didn’t dare let him stop.

Your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him in further, which served to leverage your hips up just right to have him pressing deeper, which you had thought impossible a second before.

You felt yourself once more on the edge of orgasm and he knew it, be it from the way you sounded or the way very part of you was clinging to him even tighter, he knew. “Shit…You’re so perfect…Gonna cum on my cock? Hm?” He hummed as much to himself as to you, probably to distract himself so he didn’t cum before you.

You couldn’t have answered him if you wanted to, it was all too much, too perfect, before you even realized it the coil snapped and you came hard, so hard your vision went white and you think you might have passed out for a few seconds because the next thing you heard was his voice rasping out your name mixed with several swears while his hips stuttered and you felt heat flood your insides.

He didn’t collapse on you the way other guys you’ve slept with had, he did lower himself enough to rest chest to chest, but his knees and free hand kept him propped up enough as not to crush you.

His face was pressed into your neck while you both caught your breath, and after a moment he pulled back to press his forehead to yours, eyes closed but it made him feel even closer, so you certainly weren’t complaining.

When both your breathing evened out, he opened his eyes and looked at you, finding you already searching his face. Trepidation was there at the bare edges of your gaze but seemed to be held back by the fact that he hadn’t pulled away or said anything shitty to you yet.

“You okay?” He said softly, quietly so as not to disturb the calm that had fallen on the room.

He watched your throat work around a swallow, and you nodded ever so slightly. “Yeah…” You breathed, voice sounding thick.

He gave your hand, still wrapped so tightly around his metal one, a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Bright-eyes…” He said, knowing you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

Your eyes widened slightly and grew wet but before tears could fall you pulled him down into a kiss, this one was filled with a different kind of passion, it was softer, sweeter. “I love you, Johnny.”

He helped you clean up after that before going to bed, the radio still playing the same oldies station quietly.

“I have traveled beyond the path of reason…Take me back to Eden…Take me back to Eden…”

#johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand/v #Johnny Silverhand/Reader #Cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #x reader #one shot #smut

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nwheregirl · 5 months

Text

Hey y’all! Today’s my husband’s birthday! 🖤🖤

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves characters #johnny silverhand #nwheregirl’s official tumblr husband #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand/reader #ch. johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand smut #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand/v #johnny silverhand x you #my rockstar bf 🖤#rockstar wife

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buryustogether · 1 year

Text

-> THE SHADOWS OF STARS

johnny silverhand x reader (not v)

word count: 8.5k

summary: despite being the newest groupie for samurai, you work hard to pull more than your weight and ensure gigs run smoothly. after a run in with a crazed fan goes awry, johnny silverhand offers you a bit of comfort.

warnings/tags: pre-relic johnny, reader is not v, violence, blood, age gap romance, non-penetrative sex, first kiss, first time, virgin!reader, mention of arranged marriage and running away, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

author’s note: he may be a bit ooc but he’s my dreamboat so

If you’d have known how the night would have ended, you would have done things differently. You would have said more, said less, perhaps. Stepped further left, taken two more paces back. Anything and everything, you would have done differently.

Anything and everything would have been for nought - because the end of the night transported you to the stars invisible above your head, and beyond the crescent moon hanging from a weathered thread. You hadn’t known you could go that high - and you owed the jump to none other than Johnny fucking Silverhand.

It started with a woman - of course, that’s what all the old-world love stories say. But this woman wasn’t a princess waiting for a king to come down from his tower and save her and make her his; she was a plastered drunk with ugly-as-all-hell bangs on her forehead and a tank top so thin and skimpy her tits would have hung out even if she tried to keep them covered.

You had been watching her from the corner of your eye the entire show from your little perch beside the stage, headphones clasped over your ears and a tablet with the set list in hand. From the shadows, because that’s all you were, really in comparison to them, you had tracked her as she downed drink after drink and got closer and closer to the edge of the stage. Of course she was decked out in their merch - hell, everyone here was, but there were hearts inked onto the Samurai logo across her chest. Just what this gig needed - a crazy-ass fan hammered out of her mind.

It was when she’d disappeared to get herself another shot when you’d allowed yourself a glance up to the stage on your right. Christ above, they were so fucking cool. You didn’t care if that made you sound like an awestruck teenager; they were the only words you could conjure up at the moment. You’d never been one for poetics.

A band of rough and rowdy outcasts, torn at the edges in all the right places and ragged at the ends, they stuck out in a city like this. Especially the guitarist; god, you’d had a massive schoolgirl crush on Johnny Silverhand since you were sixteen and had first discovered their music. He was everything you found enticing; attractive, but without the superficial glamour Night City was held under; charismatic, charming, confident; maybe a bit full of himself, which you had discovered after being pulled into their crew as the newest groupie, but it didn’t phase you as much as you thought it would.

Your younger self would have fainted if she knew you were a groupie for Samurai these days. You were new - the youngest by far they’d ever taken on, but god above knew you pulled more weight than the older assistants who’d gotten used to the feeling of trailing in the shadows of stars. You stayed late into the night and early into the morning to clean up and pack after gigs, set up arrangements for desirable venues, arrived early to prepare so they only had to get up there and sing. Hell, you even cleaned their instruments when you had the time; you’d restrung Silverhand’s prized guitar enough times to have the same calluses on your fingers as his.

Of course, it had taken a snapped string, a sweat-inducing dash to the nearest music store, and an approaching meeting with a business partner for him to give it up to be repaired by someone else than him. Eurodyne had certainly had a hand in convincing him to part with the damned thing; he’d given you an appreciative nod and a charming wink when Silverhand had left his case at your little station.

Back in the present, you found your gaze pulled from your set list to watch as Silverhand kicked up a foot on a speaker to twist out a solo that left goosebumps trailing along your skin. Below him, fans hollered and screamed their approval; his lips quirked up in that Cheshire grin of his, the crinkle of his eyes hidden behind his aviators. You swallowed thick. Despite working for Samurai for nearly a month now, you’d never spoken to Silverhand once. He’d never even glanced in your direction, too caught up in his own business or too distracted by fans to pay you much mind.

You wondered what his voice would have sounded like feet from you, soft and gentle, instead of strained with his cries as he appeased his crowds.

Your spine straightening, your eyes at once flicked back to the woman you’d been watching as she reappeared at the front of the crowd. She was barely able to keep herself on her platform heels, eyelids drooped and movements sluggish. Your lips twisted themselves into a frown; some hangover she was going to have in the morning. You glanced back down at your tablet for a moment, then back to the chick. At once, your chest thundered.

She was leaning against the wall of the stage, hand outstretched in an attempt to touch Silverhand’s pant leg. He kept his cool - surprisingly - and continued the song as he took a step back so that he stood just out of her reach.

You cast a quick glance around the dim venue. Where the hell was security? The bodyguards you’d hired to keep a perimeter at the stage? You found them; they were both slumped at the bar. Perfect; this night was throwing in all kinds of elements that made for a perfect bomb. The question was - when was it all going to blow?

The rest of the gig, you kept your eye on the rowdy fan, never letting her stray too far from your vision. She paced back and forth about the stage, trying to touch even the boot or pants hem of one of the players. It raised the hair on your neck at end as a hot, lava-like sensation filled your stomach.

Were you… jealous?

God, no, you told yourself as the last song of the set came to a close. You didn’t get jealous of blackout drunks practically sobbing over a couple of rockstars who probably didn’t even know your name. And yet… every time she cried out Silverhand’s name, every time she blew him a kiss, that sensation worsened. It coiled like a serpent in your belly, forcing your jaw to clench and your blood to boil.

Shit. You needed to get a serious grip.

Slowly, as the bar began to clear out and final tabs were paid at the bar, you found yourself in conversation with the owner of the place. You sat at a table and watched as she did the math for the band’s share of the profits of the night, cradling an iced concoction you’d been dying for since you got here. Up on the stage, Silverhand and Eurodyne were speaking in hushed tones, motioning back and forth.

“You know,” said the owner as she tallied up her data, “you seem pretty young to be a manager for those fellas.”

You forced yourself to smile and chuckle softly. “Oh,” you said, “I’m not their manager. I’m actually a groupie. I just, you know, move their things back and forth and hook up their systems for them.”

“You seem to do a lot more than that.” With a flick of her hand, she deposited the eddies into your account; a moment later, they showed up on your vision screen. When you got the chance later tonight, you would divide up the earnings between the band, the hired muscle, and yourself. You didn’t think those meatheads had done anything to earn the scrap, but you were terrified to be the one to tell them so.

“I guess someone has to,” you murmured quietly.

“I mean it,” she said. She gave you a gentle, motherly smile, one that made your heart and ache and pang for home. “You’re playing practically every role in this little game of theirs. Movement, tech, cash flow. And I’d bet they don’t even know your name, do they?”

You felt yourself blanch a little. Casting a glance over toward the rockers, your stomach flipped slightly as Silverhand threw his head back and barked out an echoed laugh. “They do,” you lied.

“Sure, kid.” The woman patted your arm before hopping off her stool and taking your empty glass. “If you’re going to survive a life like that, at least make sure to claim the respect you deserve. You’re not a doormat, girl. Don’t act like one.”

With that she left you to your own clouded thoughts, mind a hell scape of troubles and conflicting wants and needs and desires. You pursed your lips and stared down at your lap. Maybe she was right; maybe you should talk to them. Ask for better pay. Throw in a couple set ideas you’d been saving for the past weeks. Yet as much as you wanted to, the queasy feeling in your belly kept you from advancing too far.

You’d always been an anxious kid; too scared to voice your opinions. Your parents said you were well-behaved. You thought ball of nerves was a better way to phrase it.

You had just begun to kick off your stool and begin the tedious task of packing up the equipment when a flash of movement caught your eye. That woman - the one who had tried to touch the band on the stage - was jittering across the floor toward Silverhand and Eurodyne as they made their way to the backstage entrance. Her tits swayed as she bounced in their direction, feet dragging in her drunken state.

Fuck - some people just didn’t know when to quit, did they?

Feeling that simmering boil arise in your chest again, you quickly stride across the floor to intercept her aim toward the men. She was just behind them when you reached her, her arm outstretched and palm open to grab a handful of Silverhand’s ass. The serpent in your belly flared.

“Hey.” You grabbed the woman’s wrist in an iron-fisted grip, stopping her fingers just inches from their prize. Her head drunkenly lolled over to glare daggers at you. “No touching, you got it?”

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking kid.” She ripped her hand from your grip, and the numerous rings slid along her fingers scratched along your skin. You refused to flinch at the pain, instead pulling yourself to your full height and clenching your fists. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Your eyes flickered to the door backstage. The men had disappeared, and you felt a short little something burst inside of you. Disappointment? Surely you weren’t thinking they would come to your aid? That Silverhand would tell this bitch to scram and then say, ‘Damn, kid, thanks a lot. Want to come backstage and sign to become our mascot?’ God, you were a fucking idiot.

“Go home before someone knocks you on your ass,” you said, trying to mimic some of things you’d heard street kids say in back alleys. “I’d hate for your lipgloss to smear any further.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” Now she was angry. Getting up in your face. And you were alone - the venue owner had vanished, and the band was backstage. You suddenly wished you knew how to mind your own business. “You know where you are? This is fucking Heywood. Lose an eye for saying something like that.” She sniffed and looked you up and down. God, those bangs were ugly as all hell. “What are you, sixteen? You better run home to mommy before you get smacked.”

To your dismay, and fury, and horrified embarrassment, you felt tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You could count on your fingers the number of times someone had yelled at you like this, and each and every one still made your heart thunder like a drum. You weren’t cut out for this kind of shit; you should have taken her advice and run home, begged your parents’ forgiveness.

But suddenly the owner’s words were resurfacing in your mind.

You’re not a doormat, girl. Don’t act like one.

Gathering what little courage hadn’t dwindled away, you squared your jaw and said, “Get out and don’t come back, or I’ll call the pol-“

You weren’t able to get anything else out before suddenly a fierce, solid fist connected with the side of your face. You went sprawling, sending a table a a stool clattering into their sides, your hands clutching at your nose. Hot, tangy copper flooded down from your nostril, dripping onto your shirt and staining your palms. Holy fuck - she’d just punched you. You’d never been struck before - is this what it actually felt like? Your nose throbbing, your eye aching in its socket, your lips open as you gasped for breath?

Vaguely, through the blood pumping in your ears, you felt the woman kick your foot and scoff before the door swung shut behind her. You were left in silence, still in place where you lay propped on your elbow on the floor, with nothing but the scarlet falling from your nose and a painful watering eye.

With a coarse gasp, you sat up. Your head pounded like someone had delivered a bullet to your temple and it had come out through your jaw. Now that they weren’t being held back, tears cascaded down your cheeks freely and fell from your chin. You touched your nose, the skin around your eye, and let out a small sob as the pain flared through your skull.

Your attention was pulled from your attack to the backstage door, where a peel of laughter reached your ears. The band - you could ask them for help. Explain what happened. They could clean you up, take you to a ripper doc to make sure everything was still intact.

“Fuck, no,” you whispered to yourself. You’d eat lead before you let them see you like this; before they realized that, shit, you may have had your nineteenth birthday a few months ago, but goddamit, you still were just a snotty-nosed kid who needed her hand held when things got rough on the playground. They couldn’t know that. No one could.

You felt yourself rising, using the bottom of your shirt to gingerly wipe off the excess blood on your face. You needed to pack up. Load the equipment into the truck. Call the venue for tomorrow’s gig and make sure the show was still on.

Then you would wander, see if any rippers were still open. And if there wasn’t, well… you’d just have to deal with it.

Your mother’s words rang in your ears, still as sharp as a razor as they were when you left home. “No one’s going to take care of you out there,” she had said. “No one will help you. No one will care about you. No one will love you. You’re going to be all by yourself.”

Fuck it - you didn’t need any help. You didn’t need anyone to take care of you, to love you. You’d do it all yourself.

The pain was too much to acknowledge that was a lie.

It wasn’t but a half hour later that you were winding up speaker cords and wrapping them in their protective cases, gritting your teeth against the panging ache blossoming from your face. You were nearly done with the front half of the stage, a small tower of equipment stacked behind you and waiting to be dragged to the truck out back. You were already sweating your ass off, not to mention that the scab in your nose kept breaking and bleeding. You were sure you weren’t looking like much of a model.

You exhaled a long, exhausted breath and took a seat on the edge of the stage. Your toes barely touched the ground. Head bowed, you fisted the material of your blood-stained shirt and bit your lip to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay. You failed; they escaped, trailing down your cheeks like twin rivers.

What the hell were you doing? You were miles from home, miles from anything you knew. You’d had a life, a future planned out for you. Money. Comfort. Everything you didn’t have now. And you’d run away from it all.

“Hey, kid,” said a voice from further down the stage. “You seen my pick around here? Dropped the fucker after the show.”

Oh, holy fuck. Johnny Silverhand was speaking to you - and you were sitting here crying about being smacked around once or twice.

You cleared your throat once, twice, that the same time turning away quickly and pawing away the tears clinging to your cheeks. “Uhm, yeah.” Keeping your face turned from him, because frankly, you couldn’t take one more thing going wrong tonight, you fished out the obsidian-colored guitar pick you’d found on the stage while packing up. You had planned on leaving it beside his case when he and the others went out for a drink like they always did; it had been burning a hole in your pocket since you’d stuck it there, knowing it was the very pick he often stuck between his teeth after songs.

You held it out in his direction, refusing to let him see your tear-streaked face. He took it from your outstretched palm with his cybernetic hand, the metal fingers clicking together as he accepted it. You began to pull your hand back before suddenly those metal fingers were wrapped around your wrist, keeping your palm turned upward.

“You cut yourself or something?” he asked. He was looking at the blood you’d wiped off with your hand; fuck. Couldn’t you do anything?

Sniffling again, you pulled your hand away a little more forcefully than you meant to and cradled it in your stomach. “Yeah,” you murmured quietly, but you knew he heard you. Your voice echoed here in the empty building. “I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you, Mister Silverhand.”

To your surprise, he released a mumble from the back of his throat as he came closer and settled himself on the edge of the stage beside you. You immediately stiffened, your wide eyes trained like a magnet to an empty spot in the corner. “Christ, kid, I’m not that old. Johnny’s fine, as long as my hair’s not grey and I can still piss on my own.”

You listened as he lit up a cigarette, the lip of his lighter clasping shut before he tucked it back into his pocket. Was this actually happening? Was Johnny fucking Silverhand actually sitting down with you? Maybe that chick had knocked you clean out after all.

“You’re the new one, aren’t you?” Johnny asked as he took a drag of his smoke. He said your name, and your heart sprang like a bird screaming to be free of its cage. He did know your name. “What do you think of this shitshow? Not exactly what you expected, right?”

You reached up to wipe your nose - and quickly hid your hand when you brushed off a fresh swatch of blood. “I don’t think it’s a shitshow,” you admitted in a shy voice. You sniffed. “I think it’s great. I think you all are.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his wrist - he was offering you a drag of his smoke. You stared at it for a moment before gingerly taking it and holding it like a joint; you felt his gaze on you, you could see the edge of his faint smirk. Obviously you weren’t holding it right. Nevertheless, you hesitantly brought it to your lips. How bad could one drag be?

As soon as the smoke tumbled down your throat and into your lungs, you pitched forward and hacked out a number of dry coughs. It felt like ash was steamrolling down your spine, tasted like a bad dream you couldn’t wake from. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Beside you, his feet crossed at the ankles, Johnny gave that deep, drawling laugh you’d heard time and time again - and had practically fallen for - and took back his cigarette. “First smoke, kid?” You heard the smile in his voice as he placed it back between his lips. “When you throw up, just don’t do it here.”

You raised your hand to cover your mouth, your bleeding nose, but you were too late. You bent your head and coughed into your lap - with enough force to send a spattering few droplets across the tops of your thighs. Your hands scrabbled to wipe them away, but the man beside you was quicker.

“Jesus,” he said, all traces of amusement wiped like a slate from his voice. “Didn’t think it’d kill you.”

“Sorry,” you gasped.

There came a short, yet stifling moment of stillness, of silence. It felt as if the world had gone still, had come to a stop on its axel or the spinner or whatever the hell it rotated on. If it even did anymore.

But then it all came back full force, like a slap to the face, like a bullet to the chest. Johnny reached his hand out and grabbed your chin - gently, but commanding; forcefully, but gingerly - and forced you to turn your head and look at him. It was the first time you’d met his eyes since he’d walked into the stage - his aviators were pushed up on his head, his smoke dangling from his lips, his oak-colored eyes hard and steely and rough to disguise the shock lying beneath them.

“Fuck me.” He tilted your head slightly, his gaze traveling over your face. “Someone do this to you, kid?”

You felt as though you couldn’t speak. Even if you wanted to, you just couldn’t. His artificial fingers were cool against your flushed skin, his grip harsh but forgiving all at once. Fireworks were exploding across your face where he touched you, rendering you speechless. Did he… actually care? Give a shit you’d taken a clock to the skull?

When you didn’t answer, his fingers tightened slightly on your jaw. Your eyes found his again, lips parted and heart skipping beats. “Hey,” he said more firmly, then pulled his cigarette from his lips with his free hand. “Who did this shit to you, huh?”

Ignoring the thrumming and singing and screaming of your heart, you swallowed thick and averted your gaze. “No one,” you replied. When his grip didn’t let up, you finally caved. “Just… just a fan, a little bit ago. She was, uh…” You hesitated. “She was trying to catch a grope of you, so I stopped her. Guess I caught it instead.”

Your small, forceful chuckle wasn’t met with the kind of response you were hoping for; maybe a laugh, or at least a tug at the corner of the lips. But it did not happen. Instead, you were met with a stony glare. A hard gaze. A deeply-set frown that bordered on a scowl.

You became suddenly and deeply intimated of Johnny Silverhand, aware now of the tight grip he had on your jaw and how close he was to your face. You bowed your head to the side, and he at last let you go. “Sorry to ruin the after party,” you murmured, then swallowed thick and hopped off the stage. “I’m fine, really. I just need to finish packing up and I’ll get out of here.”

Attempting to hide the flush in your cheeks and the hammering of your heart in your chest, you bent over to gather up a speaker in your arms. When you stood straight again, you found Johnny standing just feet before you, his aviators clutched tight in his grip at his side.

“I’m not fuckin’ with you here, kid,” he said, bringing his face close again. You felt your knuckles paling around the speaker, clutching it tight to your chest. His hair framed his face in a darkened curtain, the stubble on his cheek pronounced in the dim lightning. “Nobody fucks with my band without feeling it later. You know what this bitch looks like?”

“There really isn’t a need for more violence.” Eyes down, head bowed, you shifted the speaker’s weight in your arms. You tried not to dwell on the sensation that arose in the pit of your belly over being included in his band. “I just want it to be over with.”

Johnny watched as you set down your load, reaching up to wipe at your bloody nostril. As he crossed his arms, his foot began to tap gently - a sign of agitation you’d come to recognize. “Fuck all, kid,” he rumbled, then pulled the bandanna from his back pocket and tossed it to you. Raising the cloth to you nose, you tried not to inhale deeply as his scent overpowered you. “If you’re not going down that road, you at least got liquor at your place to soften the blow that shiner’s going to give you tomorrow?”

You clenched your jaw, wrapped your free tightly over your chest. The blood from your nose was stained into the fabric of the bandana; your grip tightened around it. You murmured a soft reply.

Johnny cocked his head, hands planted on his hips. “Speak up, kid. Use that voice of yours like it’s meant to be used.”

“I live in my car,” you said again, louder, then immediately cleared your throat and began to drag a box toward the door. “Listen, uhm… Johnny, I appreciate it, but I really need to finish packing -“

“Fuck packing.” Johnny crossed the small distance you’d put between the pair of you, stopping so close you felt his breath fanning across your face. “Let those other dickwipes pull their weight for once.”

Your gaze tried to avert itself again, but something within the hallows of your chest forced your eyes to stay trained on his. Were those flecks of hazel in the brown of his irises? You blinked a few times; you’d never been this close to him before. Hell - you’d never been this close to a man before at all.

“I…” You hesitated, gripping the bandana so tightly you were sure you were about to tear it in two. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“I told you, kid,” he said, then reached up to grab your shoulder. Explosions; fireworks; detonations where he touched you. “I take care of my band.”

And that was how you found yourself holding an ice pack to your face in Johnny Silverhand’s apartment in Pacifica, with the night sky and the stars taking up the space between peering in on you from the windows across the room.

You brought a small glass of liquor to your lips as you took in the living space; it was quaint, but not a shitty little hole in the wall either. You knew he didn’t care for aesthetics or shows; he was a man of practicality. Whatever served him well - pretty or not - he kept around.

Maybe that was why you’d lasted this long so far tailing the band as their little runt groupie.

You shifted slightly in your seat on the couch, pulling the pack slowly from your face. A television was set against the far wall, where the news station spewed some commercial for the latest body mod people were just ‘dying for!’ Clothes lay discarded around the bed set in the alcove in the corner, and a trio of electric guitars stood by dutifully in the corner amongst a mountain of expensive speakers and stereoes. Mounted on the wall were half a dozen framed magazine covers that featured Samurai - and a few were only his face occupied the page. Photoshoots, interviews, covers… he had it all done and displayed.

The star himself stood at the miniature bar pouring himself a few fingers of vodka, hair tied up in a half knot at the crown of his head. He set the bottle down and crossed the room to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch, then kicked up his feet on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle.

“So tell me,” said Johnny and sipped at his liquor. He extended an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just a few inches from your head. “How’s a kid like you end up in this shit city? You certainly aren’t built to be a street kid, so you didn’t grow up here.”

Consciously, you reached up to touch the area around your eye. You’d used the bathroom when you first arrived here to clean the blood off your face, but the black eye steadily blossoming across your skin wasn’t going to wash away as easily. As if you didn’t already feel bad enough; you were sitting on fucking Johnny Silverhand’s couch in a bloodstained shirt and the confession off your lips that you lived in your damn car.

When he tilted his head to look at you expectantly, you felt your throat run dry. You knew how he - hell, how most of the street kids in Night City - felt about where you came from. Surely you didn’t have to tell him the entire truth. Besides - even if you lied, you were expecting him to come to his senses any time now and tell you, his month-new groupie, to get out of his house and scram.

“Well,” you said and gingerly placed the ice pack on the side table, “I guess you’re sort of right. My family was pretty… well-to-do. I grew up on the top floors of the snottiest buildings -“

“You used to be a corpo kid.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins. Fuck; this was it. Your run with Samurai was over. With any band, really. Surely word would spread you were a corpo brat trying to slum it as a street kid.

Johnny shrugged a shoulder and brought up his glass to take another sip. “You don’t hide it well, kid,” he told you bluntly. “The way you talk, walk, hold yourself. You reek of that high-brow lifestyle, no offense.” The corner of his lips quirked slightly. “But surely mom and dad didn’t drop their precious little darling on the street, now, did they?”

You couldn’t stop the zipping, electric sensation that pinged off the walls of your chest. “Not exactly.” You finished off your drink and set it aside, eyes focused on the corner of the television. You had no idea what the anchor was talking about; you didn’t really want to know. “My parents are oil investors. Old money types - they both came from countryside mansions and absent fathers - heh.” You smiled slightly to yourself. “They always told me I was a, as they called it, ‘soft soul.’ In their native tongue, that means weak. Not able to make those cutthroat decisions, you know? I don’t think they ever planned on including the stocks and the oil fields in their inheritance, so they went off and found the son of another tycoon who they could give it to.”

“Holy fuck,” said Johnny and lifted a stunned brow. “You’re telling me they arranged a marriage for you and this asshole?”

“They tried, I guess.” You hesitated, hand fidgeting with a stray loose end on your shirt. “I told them I’d rather splatter my brains on the wall - and they told me I could either do it their way, or leave and not come back at all.” You turned your head and gave him a wry, tight-lipped smile. “So I haven’t gone back.”

Johnny hissed out a breath through his teeth and tossed back the rest of his vodka. “You’ve got balls, kid, I’ll give you that,” he said and set aside his glass. “NC’s sure one hell of a place to hit the ground running.”

“Mm.” Maybe it was the liquor in your systems talking; or maybe it was the fact that slowly, as the evening went on, you were becoming more and more comfortable around him. “When I was younger, I heard your music for the first time and I just couldn’t get enough of it. My parents fucking hated it - tried to take away my vinyls, block the streaming websites, but I always found a way to keep listening. I guess… it was the only way I felt I could rebel.

“I got dragged to parties to be seen and not heard; I was given piano lessons at five, and when those didn’t stick, they put me in sports. They always wanted me to be some, I don’t know, incredible prodigy. Like I needed to be amazing to call myself their daughter. And I guess when they realized I wasn’t anything to be proud of, they just gave up.”

As soon as you shut your mouth, you regretted what you had said. When you’d left home, you had vowed to leave your past in the past. What the hell were you doing?

But then Johnny was barking out one of those laughs of his as he rolled his head back against the couch cushion. “Oh, come on,” he said and eyed you incredulously. “Nothing? You can handle your way around eddie negotiations - you sure they didn’t try to shape you into a corpo biz manager?”

“Believe me,” you said, finding yourself snickering along with him. “They tried everything. Nothing I ever did was good enough for them.” A loosened giggle escaped your lips as you gestured vaguely around the apartment. “Hell, I think they’d keel over and kick it if they knew I was at Johnny Silverhand’s place - the most infamous rockstar in Night City.”

He smirked coyly. “What?” he said and scratched at his throat. His eyes stayed trained on yours as you watched his tattoos move with his ministrations. “Your old man doesn’t like bad boys and tech fuckers?”

“Especially.”

There was another one of those still, silent moments between the pair of you, like the string attached to your fingers had pulled taunt. The television played quietly across the room. Car horns blared and wailed outside. Your gazes were locked together, unable to pull apart even if you wanted to.

Then he was moving. Pulling his feet off the table, standing to his full height. Stepping closer - resting a silver hand on the couch arm beside you and the other on the back near your head. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned over you, enveloping you against him and his ow shadow.

“Listen, kid,” he said, and you realized his voice had dropped a baritone. In the pit of your belly there came a fluttering, one that traveled further, lower, straight to your core. “I might be getting some off vibes here, but I’m not going to be a pussy and say I wouldn’t be disappointed if I was.” You felt your breath slam from your lungs as he leaned closer, closer, and dragged his tongue along the short expanse of your cheekbone; you swore your heart stopped. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think there’s a thanks in order for saving my ass earlier.”

Ice - your blood had frozen and turned to ice beneath your skin. Did he know you were holding your breath? Did he know you’d never been this close to anyone like this? Did he know you’d never kissed before, never fucked or gotten fucked or known what real, true devotion felt like?

After what seemed an eternity - a forever of him staring at you from inches away, awaiting your green light to advance - you at last found your voice. “I didn’t do it in exchange for this.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but let me spoil you, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were melded to yours, and your mind, your senses, your body - they all burst red and green and purple and every color across the spectrum you didn’t even know existed. His knees came to rest on either side of your legs and he bent down, so that he hovered over you and you stretched up in order to keep your mouths connected. His kiss was rough and demanding, the reins held tight in his hands, and he took up every last gasp of breath you had left in your lungs.

He pulled back for a quick inhale, leaving you shell shocked, but only for a moment before he was pushing his lips back against yours. “Fuck, honey,” he slurred between deep, passionate kisses, “you taste even fucking better than I thought.”

When his mouth moved down to the column of your throat, his touch anchoring your hips down beneath him, you realized this wasn’t supposed to be a one-man show. Your movements felt foreign, unknown, as you brought one hand to thread through his hair and the other to cradle the back of his neck. His tresses slipped through your fingers like feathers or silk or some other poetic shit - you didn’t care enough to think of the right metaphor.

Johnny found a spot on your skin where your neck met your shoulder, his hand moving your shirt collar out of the way, and attached his mouth to that area. He sucked and pulled at your vulnerable throat, using his sharp teeth to gently bite at the skin. You gasped aloud, your grip in his hair tightening, as he licked at the place he’d bitten, almost like apologizing or making up for the pleasurable pain.

And fuck, was it pleasurable. With every moment that ticked by with his mouth lavishing your neck, with his touch roaming across the planes of your body, you felt yourself growing wetter. Your belly was flip-flopping with nerves and excitement, your core suddenly aching from the attention you were receiving. And, if you shifted your hips just right, you felt the growing erection in his pants pressing against your thigh. You gave a hesitant, experimental buck of your hips against his - and your heart leaped when he pulled off your throat to groan low and gravelly into your collarbone.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Johnny growled as he sat up. He peered down at you with blown pupils and an almost animalistic gaze, his hands working the clasps and buckles of his bulletproof vest. “Keep playing games like that and you might get your prize sooner than you expect it.” At last, he lifted the vest over his head - and you didn’t stop yourself from staring. His stomach was a flat plane of muscle, riddled near the hip and the pec with a few puckered scars. His dog tags clinked against his chest, hanging like ornaments over the line of hair that began at his belly button and became thicker as it disappeared beneath his waistband.

“Impressed?” he crooned, drawing your eyes back up to his.

You felt yourself smiling, albeit a bit nervously, and slowly reaching out to touch his abdomen. “Maybe,” you murmured. Your fingers trailed over his chest, his nipples, his belly. His muscles flexed under your touch, and every few moments he let his head fall back and released a low-throated moans. They sent shivers up your spine and an ache down to your core, clenching around nothing.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Johnny said, coming to his senses and hooking his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “I can’t exactly do this the right way if I’m the only one playing skins.”

Your nerves jumped wildly as he began to pull up your shirt; you partially lifted yourself to aid him, but as the fabric began to clear your breasts, you felt your blood spiking. “Wait!” You grabbed his wrist, halting him in place. “Wait, Johnny, wait.”

Obediently, he paused where he was. He peered down at you questioningly, searching for a sign of whatever he’d done wrong. “Don’t get cold feet on me now, kid,” he drawled gently.

“No,” you said quickly, and you panicked because he looked like he was going to pull away, so you surged forward and kissed him hungrily. He gave a muffled grunt of surprise, but returned it nonetheless. When you finally leaned back again, you knew your face was flushed; how attractive you must have looked, with a violent blush and a black eye coming in. “I want to, Johnny, I really do. More than…” You shook your head slightly. “More than I think I’ve ever wanted anything?”

“More than you want to tell those fucking parents of yours where to shove it?”

A nervous, wobbly smile wound over your lips. “Yeah,” you replied. “More than that. But…” You swallowed thick and averted your gaze, letting your eyes fixate instead on his dog tags. “I, uhm… I haven’t exactly… done this before. At all.”

“Hmm.” It was all he said for a long, quiet moment. You could tell he was staring at you, but you didn’t want to know if his gaze was full of reproach or unease - or the wild, suddenly feral look some men got around virgins. He shifted his weight atop you slightly. He spoke again. “You’ve at least cum before, haven’t you? Used one of those toys you women like so much?”

For a fraction of a second, you realized the gravity of it all - you were lying beneath Johnny Silverhand, talking about your previous use of sex toys. But before you could begin to register the situation, you said, “I mean, I’ve used vibrators before. I didn’t ever… didn’t ever orgasm on those. It just wasn’t enough. And my mom always said I didn’t want to lose my virginity to a piece of silicone. So…” You gently tightened the grip you had on his wrist. “No. I haven’t. I didn’t… I hadn’t even kissed anyone before this.”

“Fuck me, kid.”

You waited for him to roll off you, to tell you that you were a nice kid, but he suddenly wasn’t feeling well. It seemed forever. Then, that feeling - that sensation that was growing familiar - of his metal fingers on your chin drew your attention back up to his face. He was gazing down at you with a look so understanding, yet so teasing and coy it seemed as though the painter who had sculpted his features changed his mind half way through.

“If I’d known that was your first,” he rumbled to you, “I’d have made sure to bite.”

With that he dipped down to recapture your lips, his artificial hand coming up to cradle your cheek affectionately. A tidal wave of relief flooded through your systems as you reached up to tangle your hands in his hair again, your body beginning to act on its own accord. Your leg twisted around his to pull his hips closer to yours, and you felt his erection bump against the apex of your thighs. You both groaned into one another’s mouths, sharing breaths and panting into throats.

“Hang on,” he ordered you, and once you had locked your legs around his waist, he braced you against him and hauled you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. He continued to bite at your lips and shove his tongue into your mouth as he carried you toward the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, he pulled you further up toward the pillows and crawled over your form. “I’ve got an idea,” he drawled, nipping at your throat. When you made a noise of acknowledgement, he slowly began to undo the button of your trousers. “We’ll save the fucking for the next time. Tonight we’ll stick with basics - swear it’ll feel just as fucking good.”

You felt your heart rate pick up like a methodical tick. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, nails digging into his bare skin. “The next time?” you murmured, dammit, hopefully. You knew Johnny Silverhand was a womanizer, that a different girl fell into his arms every other night. A part of you felt stupid for hoping this would be different; now you weren’t feeling quite as foolish.

Johnny smirked down at you, his hair curtaining you both. “What?” he said. “Thinking this was going to be a one-time thing?”

“Well…”

“Let me tell you something, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his human hand trailing down to the space between your thighs. A small squeak escaped your lips, one that melted into a moan, when he pressed his thumb down on your trousers right above your clit. “I’d be fucking stupid to find a little thing like you and let you go.”

You hitched out a gasp. “Let me go?”

“Oh, yeah, baby.” He inched down until he was level with your exposed belly, then licked a stripe up to where your shirt was bunched just below your breasts. “You’re all mine now.”

Your world was flipped on its head, like you were watching the scene play out from above instead of from your own eyes. Johnny helped you pull off your shirt, and then your bra, and you finally let yourself moan unabashedly when he pulled the peaks of each breast into his mouth. Then he removed your pants, and your panties, and then he had practically picked you up and pulled you into a position that had your core aching like never before.

Johnny sat his back to the headboard with you seated between his legs so that your shoulder blades laid flat against his bare chest. He’d hooked his ankles around yours when your legs spread, keeping them apart and open for his touch that was slowly, torturously making its way down your body.

“Johnny,” you moaned as his metal hand cupped your breast, alternating between kneading and pinching the nipple. His warm, human hand was dragging his fingers over the tops of your naked thighs, occasionally dipping between them, but never where you needed him the most. “Johnny, please…”

“Ooh, my poor thing sounds so good when she cries for me,” he chuckled in your ear from behind. His voice was low and came from deep in his chest, sending goosebumps over your flesh. “I bet she’d sound even prettier singing.”

Without warning, his hand dipped toward your center and dragged a finger through your wet folds. In reply, as if obeying his command, you released a garbled cry and leaned your head back against his shoulder. Fuck, this was so goddamn good. You’d never known letting someone else touch you like this could feel so fucking amazing.

“That’s right,” growled Johnny, then found your clit and began to rub circles around it. “Cry for me, sweetheart.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in pleasure as he played with the bundle of nerves, your hands gripping onto his thighs for support. Your legs instinctively tried to snap closed, alleviate the heightened need for friction, but his ankles locked around yours kept you from doing so. Feeling your pull against his legs, he quickened the speed of his circles, increased the pressure ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck!” you whimpered. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, your slick smearing across your thighs. “Oh, shit, Johnny. Oh, my god, please don’t stop.” Quickly becoming overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and sensation, your body began to react on its own. You squirmed in his grasp, hips attempting to buck and feet kicking. There was a sort of coiling feeling building in your abdomen, like a pressure from within, and your body was chasing after it like it was the sun it had never seen.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” With every buck of your hips, his own chased yours, practically humping up into you from behind.

You couldn’t reply, only whimpered and whined and buried your face into the musky-smelling crook of his neck.

Johnny applied just the smallest bit of more pressure, his free arm wrapped securely around your middle to keep you anchored to him. “Come on, kid,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Give it to me. Give me this first one.”

Whatever kind of effect his words had on your systems, it was immediate. That coil in your belly snapped, wound too tight, and your vision tore white as you threw your head back against him. “Oh, god, Johnny! Johnny, fuck!” Your words melted into hoarse cries and moans and gasps. You felt a warmth pooling from your entrance and his fingers gingerly gathering it up; if you had been able to open your eyes, you would have seen him suck your release off his own fingers and smirk to himself in satisfaction.

For a long, quiet few minutes, you simply sat there between his legs, feeling your chest rise and cave as you tried to regain your breath. Behind you, Johnny craned his neck to press open-mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, the jut of your spine. He unhooked his legs from yours, allowing you to draw them together and to your chest as you gripped his thigh with a grip that refused to let go.

“You with me still, kid?” Johnny shifted his weight a bit, then wrangled you until you were sat sideways in his lap and he cradled you against his front.

Your head rested against his bare pec, fingers unconsciously gripping onto the dog tags around his neck. “Mm,” you hummed, because you felt as though you couldn’t form words anymore even if you wanted to. A sudden and powerful tide of exhaustion had washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow and full all at the same time.

“Use that pretty voice of yours,” he insisted and flicked a piece of stray hair from your sweaty forehead. “Tell me you’re alight. That I didn’t go too hard.”

So - because you would do anything for him, after he just did everything for you - you scraped together what was left of your vocal cords and said, “I’m alright.” You skimmed your fingers along his chest, and again, his muscles flexed beneath your touch. “Johnny.”

“Yeah, kid.”

“You won’t…” The next words caught in your throat. You thought of your parents, who had tried to sell you off because they believed you were nothing. You thought of that woman who had clicked you like it was a second nature to her. You thought of your own doubts and fears that taunted you like bad dreams that wouldn’t go away even after you woke up. “You won’t leave me… will you?”

Johnny’s grip around you tightened, and he pet your hair soothingly. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, and there was something about his tone that made you believe this wasn’t just a promise to you, but to himself, as well. As if he’d loved and lost before; as if he refused to let this crash and burn, even if it killed him in the end. “I’m never letting you go.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk x reader #cyberpunk 2077 smut #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk johnny #cyberpunk johnny x Reader #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #silverhand x Reader #johnny silverhand smut

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gococogo · 7 months

Text

Day Fourteen: Face Fucking/Eating Out

Kinktober Masterlist will come after October

Synopsis: With the rare occasion that V and Johnny can touch each other, they make the best of it before it's over.

Word Count: 1.1K

Genre: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Male V/Johnny Silverhand

Warnings: Face fucking/Deep throat/Blow job/Ass eating/Choking

V trembles on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around his thighs to keep his legs up high. But that’s all he can focus on right now. The buzz that fogs his mind and body is something he thinks the chip is doing tenfold.

Or maybe it’s just because Johnny is just that damn good with his tongue. The rocker’s hands hold tightly onto his thighs, the feeling of his hands being there seeming so real. V almost forgets he’s just an engram on a chip.

But right now, Johnny’s tongue invading his ass feels too real to not be fake. His hands hold V’s ass open roughly, hard enough to leave two big handprints when he’s done. Whatever that wicked tongue can do, it has V shaking. Physically shaking. All those jokes and fuck arounds the two had, Johnny wasn’t lying. He knows how to use his it that silvered tongued deviled.

V’s dick twitches as Johnny licks up from his ass to his balls. He can’t help the shaky breath that comes from his mouth. And Johnny gives a satisfied hum at that. He lets V’s legs down, but only so he can pin him in place on the bed by his hips. Thumbs dig into the soft part of his waist and it hurts, but it only has V groaning for more.

Johnny glitches suddenly.

The both of them freeze in place, eyes widening as they wait. Wait if this short lived moment of touch is over or if it’s continuing. Johnny squeezes V’s hips, testing to see if they’re still right. And when V hisses in pain as Johnny’s metal arm squeezes a little too hard, the rockstar keeps going.

“Better make the most of this before it’s over,” Johnny cocks a smile.

V grunts as he can feel Johnny’s hot breath over his cock.

“Come on, Johnny,” he almost whines out.

“Don’t be going soft on me now, V. What would they say if someone saw you like this?” Johnny mocks.

At that thought, it should’ve deterred V or even put him off, made him uncomfortable at the thought of someone watching him. Or about to walk in. But it only excites him and Johnny sees the glint in his eyes. He snorts at that, moving up V’s body until they’re face to face, nose to nose, air to air.

“Remind me to try and do this when you’re out on one of your gigs next,” Johnny’s tone is dark.

It’s a promise, not a statement. V swallows thickly at that.

Johnny works his way down V’s body once more, kissing and biting and sucking until he reaches his leaking dick. Warm lips wrap around the head of his cock and V can’t help the small buck of his hips. Johnny bobs his head, flattening his tongue so he can get more of V down his throat.

“You’ve- ah- You’ve obviously had practice,” V groans out.

The rockstar comes off with a wet pop. “I’m just taking note of what everyone else has done to me.”

“What? You’ve never sucked a dick before?”

“Once or twice, was more Kerry’s thing.” Johnny replies deeply.

“You and Kerry?”

“No. But the orgies were fun.”

And somehow, he’s a natural. No, of course he is. He’s Johnny Silverhand. An egotistical prick that will get shit right the first time or not do it again.

V’s hand grip tightly into Johnny’s hair to guide him back down onto his cock. The groan that comes from the rockstar is only encouragement for V to keep going. He uses Johnny’s hair as leverage to push him further down his dick. Slowly at first, testing the waters. But when V doesn’t get a punch to the gut or a bird flipped at him, he continues on.

He moves Johnny slowly, not wanting to hurt him. He can feel his dick hit the back of his throat in which he receives a small choke. Johnny is pulled from V dick’s, but it isn’t the guy receiving the blow job that does it.

“If you’re going to pull my hair and fuck my face,” Johnny snaps roughly, “Don’t treat me like some virgin whore that’s going to go cry to her mummy and question why she got into whoring in the first place.”

That, has V biting in tongue on the many words he wants to counteract Johnny’s insult with.

With a little bit too much anger, V drags Johnny up the bed by his hair. He pushes the rockstar down on his back and proceeds to sit on his chest. How? V doesn’t question it.

His dick touches Johnny’s lips and he can’t help but thrust a little forward to smear his precum over his mouth and cheek. It’s a hot sight V must admit. Having Johnny underneath him, watching him with dark eyes. V pushes his dick into Johnny’s mouth in which he takes it eagerly.

Johnny suddenly grabs V’s ass and pushes him further down his throat, obviously getting testy. The action has V bending over Johnny, holding his hair as the other makes work of his dick. The buzz that rushes through him is paralysing.

He thrusts into Johnny’s mouth, his dick slipping down his throat with ease. The hot wetness is something too real for V’s liking. But in the race to catch his high before all of this ends and another relic attack comes around dwindles the worries.

Johnny squeezes his ass tighter as V abuses his throat, as if urging him on. Using the rocker like his own personal fleshlight. He keeps going at a desperate rate, chasing his own high. His dick slips down Johnny’s throat each time he thrusts him. Johnny’ chokes lightly, the noises coming from him almost disgusting but V can’t get enough. His balls tense up as he grunts with every movement. Until finally, Johnny does something that tips him over the edge.

Johnny pulls V nearly all the way out of his mouth but he sucks at the head. He flicks his tongue under V’s foreskin with a wicked smile. And that, that has him coming in Johnny’s mouth. Even though V cums onto his bed, Johnny’s engram is shown drinking it up nevertheless.

V’s body shakes as he falls onto the bed next to Johnny with a huff. The rockstar breathes heavily as he stares up at the ceiling. He licks his lips and that alone is hot. V reaches out to touch Johnny’s arm.

He can feel his arm for a moment, before it sinks right through, Johnny’s engram flickering blue. Johnny looks to V, a small flicker of disappointment coming to his eyes. He flickers off the bed and over to the window without a word.

“No aftercare or cuddles?” V pokes.

Johnny flicks on his aviators then lights a cigarette from god knows where. He draws slowly and then exhales the smoke. More force of habit at this point that’s followed him into his engram.

“Not my type of thing,” he grumbles back.

V sits up. “You would if you could.”

All he gets back is a little, “Hmph.”

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beastyboyxx · 4 months

Text

Cupids Arrows. ★★★

Warnings: Dialogue Heavy, Drugs, Sex clubs, Holograms, Joytoys, Semi-Public Sex, Pole-dancing, Demanding, Placing A Bet, Handsy, Desperate, Getting Drunk, Stranger Sex, Smut, Blind Lusting, MLM, Romance, Edging, Fingering, Hand Job, Smut, Anal Sex.

Characters: Johnny Silverhand, V.(Male Reader)

Category: One-Shot (LONG)

Series: Cyberpunk 2077

Word count: 2821

Jig-Jig street was a sickening place. At least for Johnny. The idea of joytoys and fucking someone or something that wasn't necessary "real" made him want to vomit. Johnny was shockingly more into genuine romance. Having a love for someone that is real and won't just reset after the session is over.

And after everything he despised. Everything he hated which was the entirety of Night City. Here he was. The massive letters in illuminated light shined down on Silverhand as if it was mocking him. Johnny felt sick to his stomach but jesus if he didn't need this.

It was his last hope. His final battle after the millions he had won before with just his pistol and personality. The night before his hand wasn't doing it. The dark and shameful feeling of fucking into his hand that wrapped around his length as he tried desperately to get off. His long jet black hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat of his lust and disappointment.

After such a horrible experience Johnny knew that this was his genuine last resort. And he hated it with his full heart and gut.

The people of Jig-Jig street was a collective bunch of dealers, bouncers, gamblers, and pathetic losers trying to get their fill which is where Johnny stood in that category. That alone made him feel even worse. The idea of Johnny Silverhand on the streets of the most frowned town of Night City. Fuck.

The legend walked down. Trying to keep his head low and his shoulders slumped as he treaded further into the stench of unthoughtful lust.

Some joytoys called out to him. Johnny just scoffed and walked faster, their voices faded out by the sounds of loud advertisements blasting on full. In Johnnys storm of trying to hide himself and his shame. He managed to collide shoulders with another. Stumbling awkwardly as the stranger and Johnny tried to recover themselves quickly.

Johnny was the first to look up. And boy if he wasn't more than happy to. It was another man, a bit younger than him but not by much. He straightened his back and brushed off his leather jacket before turning his head to Johnny. His eyes fixated on him immediately.

Johnny smirked and stepped forward, knowing exactly what he wanted. "How much?"

"Excuse me....?"

"Y'know how much is it to... y'know." His confidence's began to fleet. That torch of light in his chest soon dimmed to just a small lick of light.

"I'm not a sex bot if that's what you're asking." The stranger rested his stance in a more comfortable position. Crossing his arms over his chest with a worldwide expression that could be read by many.

"Shit. Look kid you gotta cut me some slack." Johnny was itching for a cigarette right about now. And his burning desires in his stomach were not helping. "My predicament ain't one that's shy of being uncommon. Hell isn't that why you're here?"

"Yes and no. It's not your business to know anyways..." the man replied. His stance never wavered as Johnny kept shifting the weight of his body.

"Right." Johnny reached into his pocket. Praying to whatever god that there was a cig. "Hell yeah." Johnny muttered under his breath as that familiar sensation of his fingers wrapping around that tiny bud of joy filled him.

The legend lifted his arm, cigarette in hand as his lips wrapped around the cancer stick. Happily he held it there as his other silver hand reached into his pocket, rummaging around a bit until a defeated curse left his mouth.

"No light?" The man stepped closer. Amusement filled his voice and it was noticeable by the pitch. Johnny took some offense to it.

With a groan Silverhand nodded before taking the cigarette from his slightly chapped lips. "Yeah."

"Here, I got you man." The stranger reached in his pocket before pulling out a lighter with a lady plastered onto its base. She was in a suggestive pose.

"Thanks."

"Names V.”

"Johnny." He took a deep inhale.

"Haven't I heard your name before—"

"No. You haven't." Johnny straightened his back after V had lit the cigarette. The smoke filling his body with an undeniable sick feeling he could never get enough of. “Fuck, that's the good stuff."

"Those kill you… y'know."

"I'm already dead kid."

"Ain't a kid."

Johnny peered up from his light. The shame of his desperation slowly trickled into a smile. A smile that had some message V couldn't quite understand.

"You're quite the snarky bastard huh?" Johnny eased the cigarette from his mouth. Blowing out a small cloud of smoke.

"You could say that." V shrugged. His hands deep in his jacket pockets as he looked around the sex ridden street.

"I got an idea... a bet so to speak." Johnny took another huff on the cigarette before flicking it to the wet road and stomping it out with his shoe. "You and I, we take some CA, then drive around for a bit. See how long one of us can last before the other gets handsy and drops his pants first."

V felt the smile creep across his face. Quickly he hid his growing excitement. V turning his attention to face some advertisement board with All Foods plastered on the screen. "Yeah that could be fun. I have time to kill anyways." He shrugged.

"C'mon, drinks are on me too." Johnny waved V along. Treading deeper into Jig-Jig street. It was lightly raining and the crowd was a bit larger than usual too.

The bar wasn't a massive one. Just a simple one. Tucked off to the side, nothing compared to The Afterlife. A small group was there, surrounding the joytoy that was pole dancing. Flashing pictures and gawking at her figure.

The night was merely at its beginning. Johnny knew what he wanted and boy did he want it now. But, he would take his time with it. Following his morals of actually feeling the love rather than lust, although tonight he wouldn’t really mind letting that wild side out. He needed it anyways.

A popular drug was Cupids Arrows, CA. A sex drug that boosts your genuine lust drive. Silverhand that shameful night took two, which was his mistake. Now he’s here placing a bet to get something to tame his inner desperation.

From his past failed attempt at fucking his hand to get some edge. The boosters Johnny took before sabotaged him into driving the legend further into blind euphoria.

“Two dragon eye shots.” Johnny lifted his sliver hand towards the bartender. She nodded. Her irises lit up in blue as the transaction was completed.

“So… you got it on you?” V turned to get a better angel. The seat beneath him squeaked from its leather padding and the many uses it’s had over time.

“Right here.” Johnny lifted a small box. It was flat and had four squares with perfectly fitted chocolate diamonds. Two which were missing.

“Bottoms up!” V took the box, popped out a diamond and ate it whole. It crunched under his teeth. Johnny followed in suit, this would be his third.

In perfect timing the bartender returned with two shot glasses in the shape of a red and orange dragon mouth. The men took their shots, setting in stone their eventful night.

Shot after shot the hours of darkness blurred with different flashes of the night. Merging with forgettable conversations and guts being spilt until the music fueled the men into dancing until they fell over on top of each other.

Eventually stumbling out into the street Johnny wrapped his arm around V’s shoulder as they made fun of the holograms in the windows display case. Both boys fumbling over one another. Hands beginning to wander.

Another flash. It wasn’t exactly known amongst the two as to how they ended up here. Now looking over the skyline of Night City. The lights of skyscrapers stretching into the sky wishing they were as high as the stars in near galaxies.

Johnny was sitting on the hood of the car. Meanwhile V was inside with the driver door wide open. It was like this for around thirty minutes. No words. No chit-chat. Pure silence. But oh were their thoughts running wild. That unscathed itch of wanted to drop everything and dive into their deepest darkest desires.

“Johnny…” V got out of his seat. The breeze made him puff his collar a bit to shield himself from the cold that kissed his skin. “I think you win— I can’t.” a desperate breath shook from his throat.

“Fuck. Glad you said something. I felt like I was about to explode.” Johnny wasted no time. He grabbed hold of the other desperate man. By his waist and pressed him against the hood of the car. It squeaked and rocked a bit with the new weight.

Hands immediately began to roam. Panting breaths and belts coming loose. Johnny was the first to rip V of his clothed pants, zipper down with his jeans being tugged down enough for V’s cock to spring free.

“Shit…” Johnny cursed. The sight in front of him was one to sit back and admire. A man of power, making a name for himself. Now under the sliver hand of a legend.

V sat on the hood of the car, his mouth slightly ajar as he let loose those noises flow like water. Groans, shaken breaths, and moans of want.

“Please…” V looked up, his brows furrowed in desperation. Johnny smirked.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Johnny grunted as he lifted V up. Pressing his palm into V’s chest. Forcing him down onto the hood of the car. The man now lying with his arms on each side to prop him to sit up just a bit. The Street Kids legs dangled freely beside Johnnys.

Silverhand pressed his weight against V’s chest, showing off how he was just a few inches taller. V gasped as he felt the cold sensation of silver fingers wrap around his cock. A chill tickled down his spine. Johnny made it clear that he was leading this dance.

Not daring to break eye contact Johnny continued his stroking at a moderate pace. The sounds of V’s voice edging out from his quivering lips made the man want to completely ruin him.

“Fuck! Johnny…!” V’s eyes were fixed at the sight of his length being stroked at such teasing paces. Fast then slowed down to an edging speed that was throwing the man into a whirlwind of moans and gasps.

His legs tensed. Then his shoulders and his mind began to flicker, the drug was doing its job. Johnny grabbed a fist of V’s shirt. Pulling the other man up to meet with his lips. All while still stroking. Johnny groaned into the kiss, his beard scratching up against V’s jaw.

It was becoming too much. The knot in V’s stomach was building, and soon to pop. Johnny knew that. And he would use that to leave the man completely ruined. As he ruined himself that night.

Johnny sped up his pace. Huffing out a teasing chuckle at the sight of V’s head rolling back with his mouth hung open. Fuck’s and Johnny’s slipped out from his breath.

“Johnny I— fuck!” V screwed his eyes shut. Thrusting his hips up into Johnnys hand to get that final edge.

Johnny let his hand loose. Straightening his back so he could get better view of V. The man beneath Silverhand looked completely shocked. And rightfully pissed.

“The hell Johnny!?”

“What? You really think I’m giving it to you that easy V?” Johnny shook his head. His dog tags rubbing against his rough vest. “This is fun shit. And I’m gunna have my fill. Turn around.”

“Huh really. You think I’m just some whore you can throw around?”

“Nah I don’t. But fuck these drugs are makin’ me feel like I can rip you apart, and build you back up again with my bare hands. So..? Maybe a little.” Johnny shrugged his shoulders a bit.

Johnny would be lying through his teeth if he said the drugs weren’t giving him a fucking wild ride right about now.

Taking three in the span of a few hours was not the greatest idea. It’d be only a few minutes from now until he couldn’t hold himself back.

“You gunna let me pound your ass or what V.” Johnny fidgeted with his fingers. Rolling them on the hood of the car in a simple pattern as he stared deep into V’s eyes.

“Jesus. Fuck it…” V groaned.

The Street Kid turned. Trying to hide his face from the legend. It was embarrassing for him, being positioned this way. Oh but did Johnny love it.

“Good boy.” Johnny smiled as he let free himself. The tent in his jeans no longer pressing against the combines of its tight prison.

“Can it. Or I’ll put a bullet in— Ah!— Holy shit!”

The cold sensation of Silverhands fingers pressing deep into the wet slick of V’s hole made the man almost collapse. The drug heightened everything. Everything.

V grabbed onto anything he could for support. Jesus if this was only his fingers then who knows what his impressive cock would even stimulate.

“Just something to keep that precious body in tack. Or more in one piece.” Johnny was about to lose it. That desperation he had been itching for this entire night would finally be granted.

Not much was giving with verbal warning. Only Johnny pressing the head against V’s ring. V inhaled sharply, biting his lip as he prepared.

“Fuuuuuck!”—

Johnny cursed past his clenched teeth as he slid deep inside. Both his hands latched onto V’s sides as he immediately began to thrust like a desperate dog. The drug began to make everything a blurry image.

Grunting, moaning, the car rocking back and forth in rhythm of the pounding, skin slapping against skin filled the noise around them. V was already gone. His eyes a pink hue as Johnny continued to fuck him against the car.

“John— ny—“

V was holding onto the car at any edge or hook he could have his hands grip. His cheek was pressed onto the hood while his body was pushed then pulled from the sleek metal.

Johnny was bent down. His nose pressed into the neck of the other while he bit onto his dog tags to silence himself a bit. If it weren’t for that he’d be a noisy mess.

Thank god they were in the middle of nowhere. Some pull out on the desolate side of Night City. Out in the cold plains. Crickets chirped and near coyotes whined.

Johnny pulled back. Looking down on the view caught his breath in his throat. Silverhands cock slipping in and out ruthlessly into V. Every thrust earned a moan or plead to “keep going, just like that.” And Johnny obliged. His grip tightened onto the street kids hips, it would bruise by morning.

Johnny lent back down again. Breathlessly praising V as his cock thrusted in and out.

“Such a needy bitch huh?”

“Says you— Aggh fuck.”

Johnny grabbed a fist full of hair. Giving the final push for the release they both were dying for. Johnny buried his face into V’s neck as the man on the hood began to grow less tense.

The feeling of your stomach dropping after you push over the final hill on a carnival ride. The sensation of that feeling drowned them both. It was almost unbearable. Slick from V’s tip strung out onto the grill of the car.

Johnny bit hard into V’s neck as he released. A deep growl erupted as he did. Few more sloppy thrusts into his hole to bury his slick deep inside.

Johnny kept his hands loosely on V’s hips. His head still lowered down onto the back of the boys neck.

“Shit— ah fuck.” Silverhand breathed out each word. His voice a low husk and a touch rasper then its usual.

“The drug did its thing.” V turned his torso a bit to get better view of Johnny.

“Yeah no shit Sherlock. Fuck. Why’d I take three…” Johnny shook his head like a disappointed father.

“You what.” V’s brows furrowed.

“I took three. Don’t ask. It’s a long and shameful story I’d rather forget.” Johnny reached into his pocket. Pulling out his favorite piece of candy, a cigarette.

Taking in one large huff, Johnny blew the smoke from his nose. “Ready for round two?”

—

“Fuck yeah.”

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