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sacredcyber · 9 months

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I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.

#johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #my fic #oneshot #silverV #Johnny x female v #johnny silverhand x reader #I wrote this for me but y’all can read it too💖

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buryustogether · 7 months

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kinktober day 6: car sex - johnny silverhand

When Johnny had said he wanted to take you to Make Out Point, you had made fun of him.

Make Out Point? Come on, you had told him when he suggested it, you weren't in high school anymore. If he wanted to fog the windows up, why not do it in your own home, where it was warm, and you had space to spread out, and there was no chance of a wayward knee or arm knocking the car into another gear.

He'd been insistent, though, so you had gone.

And you had been a fucking gonk to complain in the first place.

"Fuck, sweetheart, that's it," Johnny muttered in your ear as you rocked yourself up and down on his cock in the back seat of his Porsche. "Just like that. Good girl... godammit it."

There weren't any other cars here tonight, just you and him and no one to see the vehicle rocking with your jerky movements as you got closer and closer to your end. Your knees were pressed tight against his sides and your nails were surely leaving indents in the bare skin of his shoulders, but he didn't seem to give much of a fuck as he guided your humping of his lap.

You would never get used to the feeling of Johnny's cock stretching you out, how his tip caressed that particularly sensitive spot inside of you and the way you felt each and every bump and vein along his shaft. It was like being fucked by some kind of god who knew just how much divinity he possessed and how to use it to bring someone to their knees for him.

"Johnny," you whimpered, reaching your hand around his neck slightly so that you could card your fingers through his dark, untamed locks and grab a fistful of them. "Johnny, I'm close."

"Good girl," he practically growled against the shell of your ear as he took over and began to thrust up into you hard enough to make the seat creak. "Good fuckin' girl..."

#cyberpunk 2077 #cbp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 smut #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand fic #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand smut #kinktober 2023

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yns-world · 8 months

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Johnny Silverhand Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x Reader A/N: i'm not sorry, i simply cannot sit here and lie that johnny would be a good bf LMAOOOO as always, feel free to send in any requests or anything you may have :) reblogging helps my account more than likes! :D

in no world will johnny silverhand win Boyfriend of The Year award, all he knows how to do is project all of his flaws, insecurities, and problems onto you.

the longer you stick around, the deeper the shit gets. a month into it, you’ll be questioning how the fuck a man so fundamentally messed up could end up with a relationship in the first place.

this man will have you doubting your own resolve. he blames you for every wrong thing in his life (which is a lot). sometimes when he’s really digging his own shithole, he’ll start blaming you for all that is wrong with this world (he’s delusional, but damn do those words hurt).

your friends, family, even some of johnny’s fans will try to shake you awake and let you know that you gotta sever this cord if you want to live. by the third month, you’ll want to leave with nothing but the clothes on your back, but this is where things take a turn for the worst.

when you finally put your foot down and decide to break up with this shitshow of a man, johnny will pull out all the stops to prevent you from leaving.

i’m talking gaslighting, manipulation, lovebombing, you name it.

whatever he has to do, he’ll do it.

he’ll tell you he’s sorry, he’ll cry and beg, he’ll even get on his knees and swear he’ll change.

but you’re sick and tired, and it doesn’t work.

so the last resort is break up sex.

johnny will soon learn that break up sex is the one thing he needs to do in order to keep you in his clutches.

it works like a charm, and it works every time.

by now, your relationship can’t even be called a “relationship”. all you do is argue, hurt each other, threaten to leave, and then fuck.

you only date him because of the dick tbh. there’s not a single positive thing you can point out about him.

months have passed by, and this has become your routine.

in the beginning, you had expected some sort of bare minimum boyfriend, but after months of disappointment, emotional turmoil, and pain, johnny has turned you into exactly what he is: a self-loathing bastard.

#yns world #cyberpunk johnny #cyberpunk 2077 x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x v #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader

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misaverawrites · 7 months

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In the Heat of Your Electric Touch

((johnny silverhand x reader))

summary: you're the manager of SAMURAI, johnny talks to you about changing his image after some reflection since Alt died, you decide that he can do what’s best for him… and you might be it.

tags: no arasaka tower bombing, johnny is a good person, johnny has a body, rockerboy johnny silverhand, samurai stays together, fluff, alt’s death (mentioned), cursing, fluff, forehead kisses, NO PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS

a/n: uhhhh, your honor, i am a 20 year old silly goose with a love for this man.

You stare out over the crowd from backstage, with wide smiles, music amplified by their singing as the bass vibrates through your teeth. You run a hand through your hair, just for a second, pushing away a rogue strand. You take a look at your phone, then back at the stage, where you find Johnny, looking at you with a wide and almost uncharacteristic grin, only to flash it back at the crowd, brandishing horns on his hand, the loud cheers from the crowd egging him on, bringing a small, but not, unwelcome smile to your face. Johnny loved what he did, no one could deny that, even if it seemed he only did it to further his own agenda at times. You knew better though, you and Johnny had spent too much time together on this tour for you to think too far against him.

“Alright, and we want to dedicate this encore to every single one of you!” You hear Kerry say from the stage, the wild roar from the crowd amplifying itself, you tend to watch the crowd more than anything during these shows, it was therapeutic, these people were the lifeblood of bands similar to SAMURAI , and you intended to keep them happy. As SAMURAI closes out their set, as well as Henry’s tab, some of the people start their slow, exhausted post-concert shuffle back out onto the streets of Night City, bags of SAMURAI merchandise in hand, you begin your clean-up, helping stage-hands move everything back onto the van.

“Hey, take a load off, they’ve got it.” You hear Johnny, and you shake your head. “Shouldn’t you be getting under the skirt of some barely-legal SAMURAI fangirl?” You joke and he rolls his eyes, “Fuck off,” he justifies himself, playfully all the same, until his tone gets a bit more serious in nature, “Besides, thinkin’ that’s not all too much my scene anymore.” You laugh, almost dropping the set piece in your hands. “Alright, I’m gonna hear you out, but it sounds like you just started talkin’ like one of those Maelstrom goons after they’ve had one too many implantations, what do you mean ?”

Johnny scoffs and takes the set piece from you, setting it down as he sits you down on the stage, the lingering fans vie successfully for Kerry’s attention, less so successfully for Johnny’s, his attention is all on you.

“I’m just… Fuckin’ sick of it, since Alt, since fuckin’ Arasaka, I don’t wanna ramble in those streets to a God who ain’t listenin’. Y’know?” You sigh and he puts his hand on top of yours, “I just want somethin’... Someone , even who makes me not want to shove an iron in my fuckin’ mouth.” You look at him, just for a second, as if he’s grown two heads, until you realize, from the way he’s looking at you, for once in his life, he’s serious . Your eyes widen a bit, does he mean you ? “It’s not your scene,” You say simply, it’s almost matter-of-fact in delivery.

“What if I wanted it to be?” He asks, that genuine tone of voice still there, he’s still Johnny, he knows what he wants, and he’s pushing for it. Not too hard, lest he drive you away, which is a change all in itself. “I’m the band’s manager, Johnny.” He rolls his eyes a bit, “You’ve been around Corpos a bit too long, babe,” You can’t help but love the way it sounds coming off his tongue, when it’s aimed towards you and not at another girl, “You know the fans don’t care, hell, they live for this stupid drama.” You can’t deny that. Your miles-long social media inbox, brimming with fans begging for any bit of gossip, said that all on its own. You smile a bit, “I mean, if you’re saying it could be your scene, then who am I to fight that, Johnny?” He grins, it’s a big, goofy grin unlike you’d ever seen before from him, “Shit, if you’re willing to allow it, then I guess I’d better not fuck it up.” You and him pause for a moment, not realizing how close the two of you are to one another, bodies pressed tightly against one another, you feel his eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until you, for once decide, fuck it . You pull Johnny in and kiss him, he’s warm, warmer than you’d expected whenever you thought about this, his hands meet your elbows awkwardly, he doesn’t know what to do here, and neither do you, really. His lips are chapped against yours and he tastes of cigarettes and tequila, a dangerously addictive combination that makes you want him more and more. You feel his hand suddenly brush against your hair and support the underside of your mouth, giving him more access to your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and everything else is simply null and void, besides him and you.

Until you hear the familiar sound of Kerry, clearing his throat, “Hey, both of you!” He calls, actually subtle for him, as the two of you pull away awkwardly, as though the two of you are teenagers, trying to act cool after being caught getting hot and heavy in a dark movie theater. “We’ve gotta go, bar wants us out, but you two can keep going on the tour bus, cool?” Your skin flushes and you avoid direct eye contact with Kerry, as Johnny chuckles awkwardly, despite himself, trying to keep any sense of his usually un-poised yet still collected poise. You nod, turning to look back at Johnny, who does the same to you, as you both share a small laugh with one another, you playfully push him without any real force, as he wraps his ‘ganic arm around you, kissing your forehead softly as the two of you get onto the tour bus together.

#johnny silverhand x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2020 #cyberpunk red #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #johnny silverhand #keanu reeves #fanfiction #fanfic #writers of tumblr #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #ao3 writer

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baka-bakeneko · 9 months

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Old Fashioned Rockerboy - Johnny Silverhand

tags: NSFW, Minors DNI, somno, Johnny Silverhand has a body, sleepy feel-up, CNC touching, fingering, prone bone, DP (with fingers), creampie a/n: another part of a request from @almightywdm, you gotta love this old fashioned lover boy. Johnny Silverhand as Keanu Reeves as Silverhand is baby love him sm shush... synopsis: Johnny's fingers get cold. 🥺 V, damn it, warm his fingers up. wc: 1.16k

This had to be a residual of Johnny's old life creeping into yours: waking up with a full hand down your pants, fingers petting your trimmed down mound.

Leave it to Silverhand to be the type of man that sleeps between with a hand on his crotchs, a lax hold on the never-truly-cashed family jewels.

Maybe it was the only way it guaranteed his own sleep when yours arose, rather than him bouncing around laying guitar licks and smoking cigarettes.

Still, here was Johnny's hand down your pants taking a handful, a very casual cupping, over your pussy.

You slithered his hand out of your pants, turning over on your stomach to maybe stop the old fashioned rockerboy from groping you in your sleep.

You peeked an eye open at him lounging next to you, resident brainworm he was. He'd taken off his glasses, kicked off his boots and actually unarmed his bullet vest.

"My pussy is not your comfort pillow," you grumbled. Brand new sentence for you, never thought you'd have to say that.

"It's comforting, okay?" Johnny shrugged, turning to you, his lips puckered up to his nose. "But I'd settle for a tit."

"What're you, 13?" you asked, rolling over to face away from Johnny. The heel of your palm rubbed at your temple, trying to find an off-switch to this man.

"I'm a grown-ass man, V. And you're a grown-ass woman. Last time I laid platonically in a bed with a woman was when Rogue painted my fingernails."

As you turned your head over your shoulder to retort, Johnny continued. "And that didn't last long."

You cut your eyes and returned to nuzzle your face in your pillow. "Good night, Johnny."

Johnny moved closer to you, turning to your back. You turned over your shoulder to meet Johnny's gaze then rolled onto your back. "Don't try anything, okay?"

Johnny said nothing and his arm slipped under your waistband. You could feel his heavy, tired breath wafting over your ear.

"No promises, V," Johnny muttered and you slowly fell back asleep.

Minutes later, you stirred. Fingers slipped down your slit, touching tenderly at your clit.

"Johnny, stop," you murmured, your hand grabbing onto his wrist flush against your waist. "Go to sleep."

"I'm trying, V." Johnny responded, sleep dotting his tone. "My fingers are cold though."

You scoffed at him, reaching back to smack his cheek. At the same time, Johnny managed to slip two fingers into your dampening sex.

You turned into the pillow, willing yourself to ignore him and go back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep, V," he eased, pumping his fingers into you achingly slow.

Your eyes lulled back to sleep, though your sex throbbed with the attention. Hand on Johnny's wrist again, you turned your head to him with your eyes still closed.

"Johnny," you pouted, groaned against him. "Please."

Johnny pulled you closer into him, pressing his hard cock against your ass. His fingers worked up a slow rhythm, pushing further into you and drawing more wet out. His wrist pressed against your clit, rubbing in tandem of his finger's movement, and you whined at the liveliness of your body.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, soaking up your wiggling by holding you firmer.

"You do this to Rogue?" you asked in a low hiss, yanking his hand out of your underwear.

Johnny shushed you, hooking his fingers into your waistband to wiggle you out of them. "There's no Rogue in our bed, princess."

You looked back at Johnny and met his lips in a tepid kiss. He rocked into your back, angling your hips up to rub his cock against you.

"Well, I'm awake now. So fuck me." You muttered, tugging your pants down to your knees then arching into him.

Johnny huffed against your mouth, flushing his cock against your freed pussy. "Don't gotta tell me twice."

You waited as Johnny kicked out of his leather pants, grabbing your hip to back you up on his cock. He plunged into you, making you turn your face into the pillow with a low moan.

Johnny angled his head back with a groan of relief. "Fuck, V."

He hilted himself deep inside you, pausing to pant against your neck. You gripped onto the bedsheet, holding onto Johnny filling you.

"On your stomach, come on," he ordered softly, which you did without hesitation.

Johnny followed close behind you, settling on his knees just over your ass. His hands gripped tighter into your hips, moving you on his length.

You curled underneath him, peeling your face up from the pillow to breathe in fresh air. Johnny grunted, pulling long strokes and stopping every time he was fully inside.

"You feel so good," Johnny groaned, rolling his shoulders back as his fingers tensed on your skin.

You huffed, shifting your hips up to gain more movement from Johnny. He chuckled softly, roaming his hands up your back then around to grip your breasts.

Pulling you upright, Johnny draped you against him and felt you up. His hand slipped down to scrub at your clit before pressing two fingers into you alongside his cock.

"Fuck, Johnny, fuck." You whimpered, reaching for his hand between your legs. You crumbled over Johnny's shoulder, rolling your hips in direction of his fingers then his cock.

"Whoa," Johnny exclaimed against you ear. "I knew you were a cock-hungry slut, V, but this is ridiculous."

"Shut up, shut up," you stammered, grabbing onto Johnny's hip as he hilted into you again. You trembled, reveling in the carnal bloom of euphoria in your stomach.

"You're gonna cum already?" Johnny asked, pressing his fingers harder into you.

You shook your head, writhing on Johnny as he pumped in and out of you. Your other hand braced the bed, riding into Johnny's thrusts until you gripped at his hip to urge him pause.

You caught your breath as Johnny did, his arms curling around your waist. "You're such a fucking goddess."

You rolled your eyes at the ancient rockerboy's praise, clenching around his cock before he resumed.

"Don't be pissy, V. Just cum." Johnny teased, nibbling onto your earlobe. "I give you permission."

You scoffed, holding out until you couldn't. Bending forward and arching up, you unraveled and came through Johnny's thrusts.

His pumps lost rhythm while you wiggled and moaned into the mattress. Johnny planted a hand at the small of your back, stopping and releasing short with a slew of swears.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck, you feel too good," Johnny moaned, folding over you to kiss along your back.

You flattened to the bed and Johnny pulled out, rolling over next to you.

"Goodnight, brat." Johnny smirked, reaching over to spank your ass harshly.

"Fuck you," you murmured, turning to look at Johnny from your pillow.

At that, Nibbles jumped onto the bed and climbed up on Johnny's chest. Johnny grinned, scritching behind the naked cat's ear.

"At least someone loves me, right Nibbles?"

#fanfic #fan work #cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand x reader

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beastyboyxx · 3 months

Text

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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smuttyfang · 9 months

Text

Johnny Silverhand, Seeing His Daughter

"If I can make a request for Johnny Silverhand x reader johnny while still being stuck in V finds out that His girlfriend had his daughter and he wants to see them so V takes him."

Words: 1,369

"Are you really sure about this?" You were feeling the tension and how nervous Johnny was. No words had to be spoken for you to feel each others emotions. His form materialized against the outside of the building, right beside of the entrance. It was in a nice area of Japantown.

"I need to see her. I didn't know I.. had a fucking kid. How was I supposed to know? I have to see her." He materialized again beside of you, looking up at the huge skyscraper. "Nice place.."

"Seems like she must live in a condo. Alt.. Well, Alt's current form, said she lived at the top." Johnny was visibly nervous, and wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it.

"Why didn't she tell me before she died? I could have found her, could have.." You wanted to chuckle at him, but you both knew that never would have happened. It almost made you feel sorry for him.

"Been a father?" You said, almost sad. There's no way he would have been a good father for her in his past, considering what his goals were back then. Not to mention his lifestyle.

"A shitty one, probably.. but I could have been one." His reaction made you feel even worse for him. He knew he wouldn't have made for a good father, even if he wanted to be one. He knew it too.

"Listen.." You crossed your arms. "I'll come up with a lie. I'll say that I knew her father for quite some time, long time ago. Before you decide if you want me to tell her who you really are. If you do, I'll tell her about you. If not, I'll paint a picture that she had a decent man as her father and give her some kind of closure. Without the gory details of your past." He thought for a good long while. Long enough for you to pull out a cigarette and take a few puffs. You knew that you smoking would also help him think, subconciously, in some strange way.

"Alright. I'll let you know what I'm thinkin'. Let's go." He disappeared. Entering the building, you realized this place was fancy, much too rich for your blood. She must make a pretty decent living. You stepped into the elevator, heading for the top floor. You could feel the complete fear coming from Johnny, even though he had no words to say in the moment. It was the oddest thing, thinking of Johnny Silverhand of all people being speechless. Once the elevator stopped, the doors opened into a small hallway, leading to the main door of the condo. You walked to it, lightly tapping on the door. You could hear the click of heels on the hardwood floor. Opening the door, she raised her eyebrow at you.

"Hi.. Can I help you?" The resembelance to Johnny was uncanny. She had the same jet black hair, dark eyes, the same slender face and cheekbones. She was wearing a dress, but you could see some colorful tattoos on her neck that trailed down her chest. She had some cybernetics on her face around her eyes, but not much else that you could see. She didn't look much like Alt, from what you have seen of her.

"Yeah, hey.. This might sound really strange to you, but do you know who your father is?" She scoffed at you.

"No, I don't, nor do I care to. Goodbye." She started to close the door on you, but you stopped her. She clearly had her father's attitude. Was she anything like Alt?

"Just- please wait. I knew him." She stopped for a moment, gulping.

"Knew?" You nodded. "I see.. You can come in I suppose." She opened the door, allowing you inside. Her condo was just as expensive looking as the rest of the building. It almost looked as though nobody actually lived there. Everything was spotless. She led you to her living room. A huge open window led outside to a pool on her patio. It was all complimented by a huge fully stocked bar, with plenty of vintage wines. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Nothin' fancy, just some vodka." She poured a glass for you, and poured some wine for herself. She brought the glass back to you, and motioned for you to sit down on the couch. You did so, before hearing Johnny in your head.

"She's nothin' like me." He appeared beside you on the couch, leaning back casually. He was probably in denial. You spoke back to him, in your own thoughts.

"She is just like you. Just maybe with much better circumstances in life." He huffed at you, knowing you were right. You turned your attention back to Johnny's daughter. "Thanks for the drink." You took a sip.

"Welcome. So.. you knew my father? I assume he is long dead by now." She takes a big gulp of her wine. She doesn't seem to feel entirely comfortable talking about it, but she needed to know.

"Yeah.. he is. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Didn't know him." She shrugged her shoulders. "Hard for me to feel attached."

"I know, but he wished he could have met you. He would, if he were still here." Johnny still stayed silent.

"What makes you so sure? He's not here to tell you that." Hardheaded. Not surprising.

"He and I were close. I just know he would." Leaning forward, you rested your elbows on your knees. "I thought I would come here to tell you about him, if you wanted to know. But I'm also here to learn a little about you. He wanted someone to know." She sighed, finishing her glass.

"I need more wine for this." She went to the bar, getting more drinks. Time went on in your conversation, and more drinks were swallowed down. She told you that she was living nicely because she had a very high paying job working on cyber security systems. She freelanced and managed herself, choosing who she worked for. She told you that she knew who to stay away from, including Arosaka. "Dangerous, dangerous people." She shook her head. "I'm not saying they deserved to be blown up but.. it was hard to feel bad for them when I learned about it." Johnny laughed.

"Nevermind. She really must be my daughter."

"She's also like Alt in one way. She's too smart for her own good, sounds like." Your head began to feel somewhat fuzzy, so you only halfway finished your last drink. "You're a lot like your dad."

"Am I? I guess it's possible." She stood up, walking to the window to look out at the city. "I never wanted children. Would he have wanted grandchildren too, I wonder?" Johnny didn't have a response.

"I'm not sure. He only wanted to know you. I know even though he's not here, he would have been proud of you for how successful you've become. Also for making better choices than he did."

"Better choices, huh..?" She hummed. "What was he like?" She turned to you. It was time for Johnny to make a choice. You looked in his direction. He sighed and shook his head.

"Don't tell her who I was.. my name. She's too good a kid. She deserves a good dad. To think she had a good dad." You stood up, walking over to her. You put your hand on her shoulder.

"Your dad was, most times, a stubborn, hateful jackass who made a lot of mistakes and bad choices in his life." She looked to the floor. "But he wanted to atone for his mistakes in the end, especially with not being in your life. He would have loved you. I know he would."

"I'm.. glad to know that he would have." She crossed her arms. Johnny suddenly stood up, then materialized at the door.

"Alright, that's enough.. I don't want her to know what kind of person her dad really is. Let's go, before she finds out. Please." In meeting his daughter, he suddenly was hit with all the shame and guilt from his actions in the past. All at once. "I'm such an idiot."

Link to the original post on AO3.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #fanfic #scenario #angst #johnny silverhand x reader

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nwheregirl · 11 months

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The last pic 🥵🥵

#keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves characters #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand smut #cyberpunk 2077 #cyperpunk

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imajinxnation · 7 months

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//Keanu Reeves Masterlist//

Keanuverse

- Can't Hear You! (Constantine, Wick, Silverhand, Ted, Neo)

- Worm?? (Constantine, Ted, Wick)

- The Wisdom; Gone (Wick, Constantine, Ted, Silverhand, Neo)

John Constantine

- That's Bull (Oneshot)

- Soft For You (Oneshot)

- Smokey (Oneshot)

- Infertile (Headcannon)

John Wick

- Struggle of Height (Headcannon)

- J&J // Jardani & Jealousy (Oneshot)

- Icecream Cone (Oneshot)

- Who Knew?? (Oneshot)

Johnny Silverhand

Ted Theodore Logan

- Babe In The Records (Oneshot)

Neo (Thomas Anderson)

- Too Far.. (Oneshot)

- Second The Best (Oneshot)

Rupert Marshetta

- Junkyard Friends (Oneshot)

Jonathan Harker

Don John

Johnny Mnemonic

Conor O'Neill

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ccscocoapuffs · 1 month

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Late Again- Johnny Silverhand Smut (March Madness Winner 2024)

The sun shined bright through the window of my small apartment in night city, mornings like this are the ones I could never take for granted. The view of night city despite this shitty apartment was one I don't think i could bare ever being away from yet as I roll ever a view I enjoy much more greets me. "Good morning, Johnny" "....what time is it?" "9:45" "fuck....if it double digits I ain't waking the fuck up yet" "come on sleepy head, rogue has work for us this morning remember? you know how she hates it when we run late" "yeah yeah....five more minutes." "Johnny...come on we gotta go" I picked up and pillow and flopped it down on his head as I giggled at his irritated groan. "if you're gonna make me get up can I atleast taste that pussy first?" "JOHNNY!" "What?! shits like coffee to me" "you're an idiot" "I didn't hear a no". Johnny quickly grabbed my hips and flipped me underneath him while he kissed down my neck onto my collarbone. "Johnny we gotta...oh fuck" Johnny always had a way of going directly for that sweet spot on my neck that he knew makes me fall apart. Yet right now he knew exactly what he was doing by making us late. "I gotta deal for ya kid" "What's that?" "give me 20 minutes to fuck you into the mattress then we can still make it in time to go see rogue sense your so concerned about her yelling at us" "Fine but if we are late I'm gonna tell her it was your fault" "Just shut up and let me fuck you already". Johnny slide his boxers off and started to slowly stroke himself with his precum leaking from his tip. I couldn't help me nearly drool at the mere size of it. Johnny has always been a very big boy down below yet it never fails to surprise me every time I see it. He reaches forward with his right hand and rubs soft circles on my clit while his left hand reaches up to my neck. Damn how i love the cold sting of the metal against my burning skin. "You're fuckin soaked.....that all for me?" "yes.." "yes what?" "yes sir" "good girl..." Johnny leaned down spreading both my legs and place them on my shoulders before shoving his tongue into my soaked hole. "Fuck! johnny!", Johnny continued to eat my soaked pussy like it was his last meal adding in his fingers in the process was no surprise as he loved to give me a little extra while he got his fix. "Fuck sweetheart you taste like fucking candy..." "mmmm johnny!" "thats it scream my name let the whole fucking building know whose fingers are in your pussy" "FUCK! please...please just fuck me already" "You want this cock princess?" "yes...please" "deal". Johnny quickly adjusted himself before slamming into my without warning. "OH fuck!" Johnny's thrusts were relentless as usual yet I knew exactly what he was trying to do when he reached down and start to rub fast circles on my aching clit. "you gonna squirt for me, princess? hmm? you gonna soak the fucking sheets for me" "Fuck yes please Johnny Faster!" "yeah you like that? you like being my messy slut?" I felt the strong churning in my stomach as Johnny continuously quickened his pace. "Johnny.... gonna....im gonna!" "cum for me princess" I most certainly didn't need to be told twice as I felt myself soak the sheets below as my orgasm rushed through my entire body. The overwhelming release almost made me drown out the sounds of Johnny's deep moan as he came deep inside me. "fuck.....princess so good for me" "Mmm thank you" "no thank you, baby best way to start the morning is with a pussy in your face" "dear god.." Just as Johnny leaned down to kiss my head the phone rang on the bedside table signaling to us both we were indeed once more late again. "guess we're late huh?" "you're telling her why we are late, mr. i need my morning pussy" "i don't regret shit!". Though we may be late with Rogue again I can't help but hope I can wake Johnny up more often. A/N: super simple Johnny smut for the March Madness poll #3 winner lemme know if yall wanna see more of Johnny in the future K BYEEEEEEE

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand smut #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #cyber

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crocs-silly-little-thoughts · 1 year

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Currently thinking about the amount of times you can watch Johnny Silverhand scratch is balls...

What's he have? Crabs or something??? 🦀

#johnny silverhand #silly thoughts #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #cp77 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand x reader

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buryustogether · 1 year

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-> 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.”

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