imagine johnny easing into you with a groan, standing between your spread legs and digging his blunt nails into your thighs. he fucks into you fervently, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as whimpers fall from your lips uncontrollably. “you’re going to have to be quiet, princess,” he purrs in your ear, clamping a hand over your mouth, “wouldn’t want anyone to come to the kitchen and find me fucking you on the counter, hm?“ you can only keen softly into his hand in reply, and he grins, a hand snaking down to massage at your clit. “or maybe you would.”
