I've read that Johnny NSFW alphabet like 30 times, it was so gooddddd, there's been no good Johnny Cage smut or writing in general honestly. Your Johnny just feels so in character and you're feeding me crumbs, I need moreeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (that sneak peek made me levitate)
Show 'em Who I Belong To
Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader
Synopsis: Johnny has seriously pissed you off this time, like, royally. The "begging on his knees" kind of pissed off. But luckily, he knows just the thing to do to prove he’s sorry.
Word Count: 2.58k
Playlist: Here's a Johnny Cage playlist to read his smut or just get inspo from, I made it myself
TW: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, switch!Reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!Reader, Forgiveness, Making Up, Apology Sex, Vaginal Penetration, Recording, Sex Tapes, Exhibitionism, Begging, Hand Jobs, Grinding, Crying During Sex, johnny cage loves you, johnny cage is just really really dumb, celebrity!reader, No Spoilers, Making Out, "straight" couple, johnny's slutty little slacks, Johnny cage is a little shit, Pussy drunk, cock drunk, Praise Kink, simp johnny cage, no other canon characters show up in this, Smut, Shameless Smut, Gratuitous Smut
A/N: Since the poll I put on Tumblr voted for switch!Johnny, that's what I'm doing! This chapter will mostly be sub!johnny and dom!reader with a switch at the end. It's a bit of a mixed pov, but it's mainly from the reader's pov. Nothing but Dom!Johnny in the next chapter and sorry if the quality was lacking, I've slept a total of 10 hours in a span of 72 hours. CHECK OUT THAT JOHNNY NSFW ALPHABET I WROTE, IT'S CONSIDERED CANON TO THIS!
Part 2 (tbm)
Ao3
Your acrylics tap a beat onto the arm of the plush white couch as you read the tweet on your phone.
" Johnny Cage spotted cozying up on set with Co-Star. Has the star finally met his match? " Your nails stop and you glance at where Johnny kneels fidgeting on the floor in front of you before looking back to the screen.
He spreads his hands. "Okay, I know this looks bad." His voice floats in the otherwise quiet mansion. "But will you please stop ignoring me?"
You look down your nose at him. "Is this enough attention for you?" You sneer and he grimaces.
"My PR team cooked this up a while ago and they've been hounding me about it for ages. It was so unimportant to me that it sorta...slipped my mind." He shrugs and your glare hardens him. " C'mon , babe, it's just a little publicity stunt our agents had us do for the movie. It doesn't mean anything." He laughs and his nonchalance about the situation is pissing you off more than you already are.
"Do I look like I'm laughing?" You fume and his brows furrow. "This isn't funny, Jonathan."
" Oof, " he winces, "government name."
You're both celebrities, you know what you signed up for when you agreed to date him after years and years of his begging and truly horrible pickup lines.
You're not mad about the situation itself, not really. You've gotten into drama before loads of times to drum up hype around a new project, but nothing like this. At least, not while you were dating Johnny.
You're mad that you had to find out about it from the trending page on Twitter along with a slew of concerned messages from your friends, family, and manager.
You scroll down and read messages concerned fans have posted, worried that you and Johnny have broken up or, worse, that he cheated on you. But you know that he knows that you know he wouldn’t dare.
"Look at this shit." You shove your phone in his face. The screen reflects off the sunglasses that sit low on the bridge of his nose and he squints as the brightness nearly blinds him. "'I hope this isn't how she finds out.' 'I'd be so embarrassed if I was her.' 'I knew Johnny wouldn't stay faithful for long.'"
He looks from you to the screen and then back to you. "...You're mad."
You stare down at him.
"You are un- fucking -believable.” You move to stand up, but he grabs ahold of your hips.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry ! I didn't mean to upset you. Next time, I'll give you a heads up— I mean I'll run it by you.” Johnny corrects, pulling you closer when you try to pull away again. "What can I do to make it up to you, huh?" The muscles in his biceps flex against you as he wraps his arms around your waist. You try to stay firm, but it's pretty hard when he's pressing reverent kisses to your stomach.
You shiver from the coldness of his rings as he runs a big hand up your calf, traveling up your outer thigh to hook the hem of your dress at your hip before repeating the process up your other leg.
You want to stay mad—you are mad. This is incredibly careless and he didn't consider your feelings at all and...and you don't want him to think he can get out of trouble by kissing up to you. But, begrudgingly, you card your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.
"I'm still really upset about this, Johnny." You frown.
"I know, sweetheart. And I really am sorry. But, hey! I know something that'll make us both feel better." He grins up at you and you let him lead you back to the couch with a huff, dropping down once the back of your calves brush the white upholstery.
“I’m sure you do.” You roll your eyes, spreading your legs to make room for him without thinking. “How would you —ahh !” You yelp at the sudden pinprick of pain on the skin of your inner thigh and it morphs into a moan when the pinch is quickly followed by a warm heat. You look down in time to see the pink of Johnny’s tongue as he licks over the tender spot—tender because he bit you like a damn dog!
“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I couldn’t really hear you over all those cute little noises.” You can feel the shit-eating grin against your skin as he talks. “You’re so sensitive. Definitely not a complaint—it does amazing things to my ego.” He laughs, hooking his hands under the back of your knees and pushing your legs up until the heels of your feet are balancing precariously on the edge of the seat.
He grips your hips, pulling you further down the couch and closer to his face. He moves your legs so your feet rest on his shoulders, the white polish of your toenails reflecting the light.
He leans in and you hold your breath in anticipation. You don’t want him to think he can just distract you and you’ll forget about being mad at him but—he leans in close to where the skirt of your sundress rucks up around your stomach, warm breath making you clench around nothing with each pant—but you like getting ate out almost as much as Johnny likes to do it.
You sigh as the warm, wet heat of his tongue drags across the damp seat of your panties.
" Johnny. " You whine in frustration, fingers tightening in his sandy hair, as he pulls away as quickly as he came.
"Hold on, sweetheart. I think you're gonna like this." He grins, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. You pause as he unlocks it and presents it to you, camera on and recording you.
"What the hell are you doing?" You try to push as much disapproval into your voice as you can as you flip it from the front-facing camera to the rear one, but that’s an almost impossible task since he’s rubbing his nose up and down the crease of where your thigh meets your pussy. You end up sounding far more breathy than intended.
"What?” He grins into the camera. “You can watch this whenever you need a reminder of who I belong to." He says and if you weren't wet before, you definitely are now.
For as long as you’ve known him, Johnny has never been one to half-ass anything . It’s whole ass or nothing with him putting 110% into everything he’s faced with. However, when you first started dating, you hadn’t thought that would hold up when he had his head between your legs—yet another thing Johnny went out of his way to prove you wrong about.
The camera captures it the moment he pushes your panties to the side; he’s in his element.
There’s no preamble, no warning. Johnny dives in giving you no time to prepare for the shock of pleasure. You jerk away, but he holds onto your hips, hands becoming heavy weights you can’t lift.
“You always taste so good for me, it’s insane.” He groans as your thighs try to squeeze his head, but he keeps them open easily. You sigh shakily at the casual show of strength. “I’d stay down here forever if you’d let me.” You bite your lip to muffle your soft moans, reminding yourself to steady the phone every few seconds, but forgetting to do so almost as soon as you do. But you can’t be blamed when Johnny gives head like he’s training for the Olympics; trying to break his previous record each attempt. You’ve been eaten out by people other than Johnny—of course, you have. It’s a requirement—but none of your past lovers come anywhere close to this. Johnny blows them out of the water every time.
That would be fine if you didn’t factor in his ego. Which would also be fine…any other day. But today, after the shit he pulled, you aren’t in the mood. This is supposed to be his way of apologizing, after all. So before he can get any ideas, you blink past the haze he’s put you in and grab the back of his neck. His back stiffens. He glances up at you and the shift is so swift that you doubt the camera even picked it up. His shoulders relax, almost limp against you, wide eyes going lidded as his grip on you softens.
“I know you can be louder than that, Johnny. I, hah , wanna hear how sorry you are. You are sorry, right?” You narrow your eyes.
His words are muffled since he refuses to take his mouth off of you, but you’re able to make out ‘yes’ and ‘princess’ which is good enough for you. Through the camera, you manage to get his pleading eyes and his hand unabashedly palming his bulge in the same frame and you smile around a moan.
"Are you hard, Johnny?" He doesn't hesitate to nod enthusiastically, and you feel yourself throb in his mouth. You're sure if your feet were on the ground he'd be grinding against your leg shamelessly. His body knows this too since his hips keep making aborted little thrusts, itching for relief from his tight gray slacks. "Heh, of course, you are. You can't help yourself, c–can you? Go on, then.”
He pauses, assessing you for a second to see if you’ll follow it up with anything else. You’re being surprisingly benevolent. He always has to work to earn your approval when you get like this, any pleasure he gets is dictated by you—not that he’s complaining—and that’s on the days when he hasn’t pissed you off. He honestly didn’t think he’d be cumming tonight, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
He buries his tongue in you, licking from your pulsing hole to your throbbing clit as his hands work to unbuckle his belt and pull his dick out. He groans in relief once he’s free, squeezing the base of his dick so he doesn’t cum too quickly. You’re certainly not helping, shivering against him like a house in a storm and he moans in synch with you when you yank on his hair.
He freezes at the press of sharp nails at the nape of his neck. He shivers at the slight pinch of pain before leaning into it and you reward him with smoothing down the hair there. He stops the movement of his hands, but not his mouth.
“If you’re touching yourself, you’ll do it slowly or not at all. You wanna make it up to me, don’t you? Yeah ?” You hiss as he nods against you, mouth a tight suction on your clit. “Then you don’t cum until I do.” Normally he’s more bratty than this, making you fuck the submission out of him, but he must really be sorry because he does just as you say. He slows down as you instruct, his sharp brows furrowing as one of his hands grip the fat of your thigh. His other hand jerks him off haltingly like he actively has to remind himself to obey you.
“You’re being so good for me, baby.” You gush, squirming in his hold. “ Mmh, s’fucking good.” You have to adjust your grip on his phone when he grunts at your praise, uncertain if you should jerk away or towards the vibrations. You run your nails over his scalp before yanking on his blond hair and he moans like a pornstar, hips thrusting into his hand. To the untrained eye—or ear—it seems like he’s playing it up for the camera, performing, but he’s always this loud. Especially when he’s got your pussy in his mouth.
It's almost embarrassing, the wet sounds of Johnny sloppily eating you out. Your moans mix with his and bounce around the mansion's walls with a filthy echo the longer this goes on.
He stiffens his tongue and you know what he wants. You move your hand to the back of his head, gripping the soft strands to pull him forward. You thrust your hips with helpless, heady moans as you fuck his face. His heavy gaze burns through the camera to stare up at you with his tongue out. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk and he winks. You throw your head back, eyes closed with an obscene moan and he moves forward to press his nose against your clit, tongue flat as you move his head side to side.
“Johnny , mmh, ‘m gonna, f– fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” You cry and he moans into you in response. You glance down to see his foggy glasses riding low on his nose and he stares right back, brown eyes half open but full of lust. The apples of his flushed cheeks become accentuated, sharpening with his grin. The barest hint of teeth brush your clit before pressing against it and you jerk back with the strength of your orgasm. Your mouth falls open with a repeated whine of his name, legs shaking as you hold his head still.
“Damn.” He curses, pulling away when your muscles untense. He doesn't bother wiping his mouth, wearing your slick like a trophy as he smiles into the camera. “Should’ve got that on camera. It was a money shot.” You scoff, smiling despite yourself. You pull his glasses off and sit them on your head before you press stop on the camera and toss the phone on the couch beside you, pulling him to you by the open collar of his button-up. You kiss him deep, tasting yourself on his tongue with a groan. His hands go to your hips and you wrap your legs around his waist, licking into his mouth.
“You played dirty.” You slide your hand down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you go. You grab his dick, still hard and leaking against his stomach. He laughs before whimpering into your mouth at your touch, rutting up into it. You swipe a thumb across his tip where precum drips down the underside of the head. "You're so wet, baby. This all for me?" You pull away to lick yourself off him, tongue dragging across the skin of his chin as you twist your wrist with every upward stroke.
"Are you joking? O–of course. Can, shit , can you blame me?” He puffs into your neck, hot air warming your neck as you alternate between licking and kissing his jaw. His fingers spasm around your hips, and your hands fly to his shoulders when he pulls you forward until your ass is barely on the edge of the couch. Now he’s in the perfect position to—
You gasp as he ruts against you, still sensitive as his dick slides between your pussy lips. There’s no friction with how wet you both are and with every upwards thrust he bumps your twitching clit.
“Wait, I’m— mmnh —Johnny, I’m sensitive.”
“Ah, ah, sweetheart. You said I can cum when you do,” you jump when he nips at your neck, strong arms wrapping around your back holding you tight to him. “Besides, I’m not done apologizing.” You rock against him despite your complaining. The overwhelming feeling only increases when he bends over you to reach something, and it’s enough to distract you from the sound a phone makes when you press record.
summary: You and Peter have some drinks in the Milano's cockpit. This leads to you being strapped into his chair with your legs over his shoulders.
a/n: i'm riding out everyones Star-Lord high for as long as i can. so glad my fics from 4 years ago are finally getting notes lol
(also i didn't proofread so i apologize for any typos)
One of your many playlists hummed through the cockpit of the Milano as you stared out of the ship’s large window. A drink sat in your hand, the glass filled with a comically colored blue liquid, “What’s this again,” You somewhat slur, “Looks like windex, you trying to poison me,”
“And why would I do that, darling?” Peter questioned, “You said you liked blue raspberry, those fruity drinks,”
You turned your head, it spinned as your eyes attempted to focus on Peter, “Mhm,” You hummed, “but why do you get whiskey and I get this,” He made his way towards you, setting his glass down as he passed the low table.
“Because,” Peter spoke quietly before planting a kiss on your lips. His words smelled of whiskey as his rough kiss tasted bitter, “it makes your kisses sweet,”
“Aren’t they always?” You asked. You looked up at the outlaw through your mascara coated lashes, “Shit,” You muttered, realizing it has been another night since you forgot to take off your makeup, “my makeup,” You rubbed your eye, slightly annoyed.
“You look fine,” Peter spoke, “pretty,” He corrected as you stared back at him, “A really pretty girl,” He praised as you took a sip from your glass. A small laugh passed through your lips as you knew how the night would end based on Peter’s behavior, “What?”
“Nothing,” You lied. Focusing on your music, you began to sway to The Eagles as ‘One of These Nights’ hummed off of the metal cockpit. Peter’s hands found their way to your hips, attracting your eyes to your own body. The two of you had been shut away in Peter’s room, waiting for the others to retire to their own rooms. Since you joined the Guardians on sudden notice, there was no room for you on the ship. You did not mind sharing a room with Peter, however sometimes you longed for a space that was not so small and filled with Peter’s dirty laundry.
You were only wearing a large black, band t-shirt, Blue Oyster Cult to be specific, over a pair of black underwear. Peter was not complaining as his fingers slipped underneath the shirt’s rough fabric, falling on your soft skin, “Must feel nice to get out of my room,” Peter spoke, as if reading your mind, “Next stop I’m looking into getting you a seat,” he added, watching your eyes fall on the large seats that surrounded you.
“You mean I won’t be tossed around your room when you’re driving,” You teased, “What a relief,” Walking out of Peter’s hold, you studied his seat that sat in front of the large window before finishing off your drink, retiring the glass.
“Take a seat,” Peter instructed, watching your hands tracing the cold metal, “Might have to get you a smaller size,” He teased, seeing how much larger the chair was than you.
You almost fell into the large seat, the alcohol hitting you more than you thought, “This thing looks like a death trap,” You slurred, hands playing with the buckles that were placed there for safety. You watched as Peter took the buckles from your hands, his palms almost engulfing your fists.
Tossing the buckles to the side, the metal echoed through the pit. You watched as Peter placed his hands on the chair’s arms. His hips swung loosely as he stared down at you. Removing his dominant hand, he took hold of the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up over your chest, exposing your skin. The cool air sent a chill up your spine as your nipples hardened at the change of temperature, “Quill-” You stuttered as Peter now proceeded to pull chair’s safety straps across your chest. The thick fabric crossed your body, allowing your breasts to be framed almost artfully. His hands now traveled to your knees, falling behind them, guiding your legs as he spread them apart, slowly, “Quill,” You repeated, watching him kneel before you.
Peter’s lips brushed your skin, barely honoring you with the much needed contact, “What darling?” He felt you squirm in his hold, not wanting to wait any longer for the contact you burned for, “Don’t look so desperate,”
“Shut up,” You pouted as Peter saw right through you, “you’re the one who made me the drink,” You spoke, knowing exactly how you get after a few drinks, “you probably did this on purpose,”
“Well… you get less pissed when you’re drunk,” Peter smiled, taking a sip from his glass, “but you also scream louder,” He added, placing his fingers under the elastic of your underwear.
“S-shut up,” You stuttered, struggling against the fabric straps, “Quill… what if someone comes out here,”
“Then I’ll have to be fast,” Peter spoke, pulling down the black fabric. Watching you struggle in front of him turned Peter on more than he wanted to admit. You were headstrong, always fighting back, so putting you in your place made him want to do so many things to you, “And maybe don’t be too loud then,”
Anxiety pained your chest but it equally excited you. You felt yourself grow wetter as you watched Peter sip on his whiskey between your spread legs. His chair was large, making you feel minuscule and submissive, “Then stop teasing me and hurry up,”
“And do what?” Peter pressed, slowly pulling the fabric down your thighs. Your underwear rolled down your skin in his large hands, “What do you think I’m gonna do to you? Whadda ya’ want me to do?” The whiskey drew out his accent, which went into your ears and straight between your legs.
“I want you to stop teasing me,” You answered before a whimper bubbled past your lips as the cold metal chair cooled the heat between your legs.
“S’no fun that way,” Peter admitted, his hands pulling your hips towards him as best as he could with how you were restrained. Throwing your legs over his shoulders, he stared at the sight before him, “Fine. You’re dripping wet as it is, huh?” With a grin, he moved closer to you. He watched as your hips rocked towards him, begging for any sort of relief, “I think I teased you enough,”
Throwing your head back, it smacked against the heavy metal. Your eyes screwed shut, not only from the pain, but from your restlessness. You felt Peter’s hand trail from your knee, up your inner thigh. You whined at just how painfully slow his touch was as it neared your clit, “Quilllll,” You groaned, “Please,” You sucked in air between your clenched teeth as Peter’s thumb finally began to rub circles on your clit, “s-shit,”
Peter watch as his fingers ran through your wet folds, the slight sounds was orgasmic to him, “Fuck sweetheart,” You wiggled underneath his touch, making a smile curl his lips. A moment later, he brought his smiling lips to your clit. He planted a wet kiss before his tongue began to explore you, it ran through your folds and left wet trails on your inner thighs. His rough hands found hold on your plush skin, calloused fingers digging into your outer thighs. His flat palms snaked to your ass, holding it as his tongue worked you.
Your attempts to hold back the moans that were crawling up your throat failed, whimpers passing through your pressed lips. You were terrified that someone would walk into the cockpit at any moment and see you strapped to Peter’s seat with his skilled tongue working between your spread legs. However, the thought also turned you on slightly.
“Let them hear you,” Peter spoke, realizing your struggling above him, “Maybe if they hear how good I’m making you feel they’ll stay in their rooms,”
“Q-Quill,” You stuttered, however your tone was stern. Your lips returned to a pressed line, afraid a moan would pass through your parted lips. Your attempt did not last long as Peter found the rhythm that you loved, “f-fUck,” You moaned, volume louder than you wished to admit.
“There you go,” Peter coaxed, his tone praising. One of his fingers unexpectedly entered you, pumping in and out at the perfect pace. He paired the slow finger fucking with a faster pace from his tongue, making you grow close to climax without warning.
“I’m… I’m so-so close,” You moaned, struggling behind your restraints but Peter only hummed back in response, the action vibrating against your clit slightly, “Ffffuck,” You moaned, “I’m gonna cum,”
“What was that sweetheart?” Peter questioned, pulling his head out from between your legs, his finger picking up the pace and attempting to keep your orgasm at the brink.
“I’m so close… please,” You studied his expression, knowing exactly what he was waiting for, “S-Star-Lord,”
With an overconfident smile, his lips returned to your clit, planting a wet kiss before he brought you to your climax.
“Fu-fuck- I’m-” You moaned, hips rocking towards his tongue. You matched his pace as your eyes screwed shut, feeling yourself reach the high you had been chasing.
Now comes the part you always dreaded.
You felt Peter keep his pace on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you. You whimpered, unable to flee him as he overworked you.
Once Peter was satisfied, he leaned back onto his heels, “How was that?” He questioned you, watching your eyes slowly open, brows un-furrowing, “Want your own chair? Or do you just like mine?”
Your heated skin was cooled slightly by the chair’s metal as you shifted in the large seat. Your chest rose and fell as you attempted to catch your breath, a small smile curled the ends of your lips, “I… I think I’d like a chair,” You spoke as Peter began to free you, “But only if we can do this again in my own chair,”
“Of course,” Peter laughed slightly, “I’ll make a call in the morning,” His voice echoed off the walls as the two of you realized the music had stopped humming through the Milano.
“I think we should go back to your room,” You spoke, wondering just when the music had stopped and your moans started. Peter shot you a glance, “I think I need a break before we do anything else,” You laughed.
“You can take all the time you need, I can wait,” He took your hands, helping your shaking legs off of the large chair, “So like… twenty minutes?” He somewhat joked as he led you towards his room.
Request by anon: Hi! Happy holidays I love you’re writing. I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester x reader fluff where the the reader is a witch like bonnie Bennett!
Summary: You’re one of the good witches, and you’d do anything to keep a smile on your boyfriend’s face.
Square Filled: sleepover (2021) for @spndeanbingo
Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3
I suppose that the main pressure just comes from wanting the fans to, you know, not hate our show. I just hope that people care in the same way they cared about Game of Thrones or the way that they care about any show, like, how I feel about GOT or Succession. I can’t help but feel so invested in these characters. So, if cousin Greg from Succession is having a bad day, it stresses me out, and I kind of hope that we have our own cousin Greg on this show!
— FABIEN FRANKEL
baratheonpilled
janainaart
jacobvanloon
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