voidbunnyxo

[voidbunnyxo]

Trigger Warning:

This piece contains explicit sexual content (18+), soft dom dynamics, DDLG undertones, hospital setting, mutual desperation, praise kink, and unprotected sex. Minors GO AWAY!

Reader discretion is advised.

Good Girls Visit After Dark

Text from — JJ 🧼

Need you tonight, Bonnie.

I’ve been good. I’ve been patient. But I’m losin’ it.

I miss my girl. The real thing. Not memories.

Sneak in.

You sat there staring at your phone, chest tight, thighs already pressing together. Johnny wasn’t the same man who got wheeled into the ICU three months ago—he was stronger now, better. Still bruised, still healing, but more himself. And God, you missed him. Missed his weight. His hands. The way he fucked like he was trying to carve his name into your soul.

They kept telling you, “Just a little longer.” But Johnny clearly had other plans.

So you pulled on his favorite pair of undies, slipped out of the house, and walked into that hospital like a woman on a mission.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” the night nurse whispered as she led you down the dim hallway, footsteps quiet on the linoleum.

“I’m not asking for much,” you whispered. “Just fifteen minutes. I’ll be quiet. I promise. He just… He’s been through hell.”

She looked at you for a long second, then nodded and opened the door.

“I’ll turn the sound off on the monitors. I’ll stand right outside. You get caught, I was never here.”

You touched her arm gently. “Thank you. Truly.”

She gave you a look and you slipped in without another word.

Johnny was awake, propped on pillows, his hair mussed and his eyes dark. When he saw you, his whole body exhaled.

“Bonnie.”

You climbed into his lap slowly, careful of the wires, the healing bruises. You could feel the tension humming beneath his skin—the restraint. But the moment your thighs spread over his, and your chest pressed to his bare one, you felt his arms wrap around you like he’d die before letting go.

“Thought I was dreamin’,” he breathed, kissing the top of your head. “Didn’t think they’d let ye come.”

“They didn’t,” you whispered, nuzzling against his neck. “I had to bribe a nurse just to see my husband.”

His hands slid up your thighs beneath your dress, voice rough. “Take it off.”

You obeyed. Slowly. Dress sliding off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. No bra. Just his favorite pair of soft little panties with a bow at the waistband.

His jaw tensed.

“Ye wore these on purpose, didn’t ye?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

His fingers tugged the fabric aside, two thick digits dragging through your soaked heat.

“Fuck, you’re drippin’. All this for me?”

You nodded again, nearly trembling in his lap.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered.

He pulled you down onto him, slow but deliberate, letting you feel every inch as your body stretched around him. His cock throbbed deep inside you.

“Ohh—fuck,” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know it’s been too long. But ye’re takin’ me so well.”

His voice dropped lower, rougher.

“Now ride, nice and slow. Be good. Don’t make a sound unless I say so.”

You rocked your hips in quiet, shuddering waves, the stretch burning just right, his praise melting into your skin like heat.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, guiding your hips with one strong hand, the other pressed flat to your lower back. “Ye’ve always been so good at ridin me.”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill from the overwhelm—months of fear, pain, distance all burning up in the heat of his body inside yours.

“Gonna fill ye,” he rasped. “Not just a little. Gonna give ye everythin’.”

Your climax hit fast—silent but sharp, your body locking around him as he groaned, trying so hard to stay quiet even as he spilled deep inside you, cock pulsing, his hand holding you tight to keep every drop inside.

You collapsed on his chest, breathing heavy, both of you trembling.

He kissed your hair. “That’s my good girl.”

A soft knock came at the door.

You giggled, leaning down to kiss Johnny’s flushed cheek. “Better?”

He was breathless. Glowing. Spent. “Ye’re my fuckin’ painkiller, Bonnie.”

You kissed him again. “You’ll get another dose when they finally let you come home.”

He smirked, eyes already lidded. “Better book me for a refill. ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ for at least a week.”

Don’t be a loser and steal my work. Thanks. 🐰💚

[voidbunnyxo]

Trigger Warning:

This piece contains explicit sexual content (18+), established relationship, domestic fluff meets filthy smut soft dom dynamics, overstimulation, comfort and chaos, rough/soft contrast, mutual desperation, praise kink, and unprotected sex. Minors GO AWAY!

Reader discretion is advised.

Quiet, Love — The Game’s Still On

Pairing: Ghost x Soap x Reader (Bunny)

The flat was warm with the scent of clean sheets and skin, lit only by the soft flicker of the telly. Football commentary murmured through the room, half-muted, like background noise to a memory being made in real time.

Johnny lay lengthwise on the bed, one leg hanging off the edge, still a little damp from his shower. A beer rested on the nightstand, untouched. His eyes flicked between the match and the woman perched between them — you — crawling across the sheets in one of his old shirts, hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

Simon sat up against the headboard, a book forgotten in his lap, shadowed eyes trailing your every move. His mask was off — a rare comfort — mouth twitching with something unreadable as you slowly, shamelessly straddled him.

“Bored already, Bunny?” he murmured, low and rough. “Game’s not even halfway over.”

You smiled sweetly. “Not my game.”

Johnny snorted from the side. “Course it’s not. You come in here wigglin’ like that and expect us to focus?”

“I didn’t say that.” You shifted, grinding just enough to make Simon grunt. “But you could’ve said please.”

Simon’s hands locked around your waist in one smooth movement. “Don’t push it.”

“You want her to stop?” Johnny asked, voice a teasing lilt. “’Cause I sure as fuck don’t.”

You leaned forward, kissing Simon’s jaw, hips rolling lazily. His cock was already thick and hot beneath you, sweat just starting to bead at his temples.

“Thought you were relaxing,” you whispered against his neck.

“Hard to relax when you’re sittin’ there drippin’ all over me, love.”

Johnny’s eyes never left you. He stroked himself absently under the blanket, beer forgotten, breathing a little heavier now.

“Go on then, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Ride him. Nice and slow. I’ll wait my turn.”

You bit your lip and reached down, guiding Simon into you with practiced ease. He filled you in one slow thrust, thick and deep, making your spine arch and your lips part with a gasp. His hands tightened — not enough to bruise, but close.

“There she goes,” Simon muttered, voice almost reverent. “Always so fuckin’ warm for me.”

You started moving — long, slow rolls of your hips, using his chest for leverage, keeping your pace steady. You wanted to take your time. Let them feel how much you missed them.

Missed this.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Johnny fist his cock harder now, breath catching every time your moan slipped past your lips. His thighs twitched. His jaw clenched. He looked almost angry with how much he wanted you.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, Bunny,” he growled.

“Not yet.”

Simon grabbed your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. “Focus, love. You’ll get his cock when I say you’re done with mine.”

That edge in his voice — cold and possessive — made you whimper.

The rhythm deepened. Simon’s hips began to rise into yours, catching just right, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision blur.

“Look at you,” Johnny groaned. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re full.”

You could barely speak now. Each thrust sent another wave through your body, fire coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

Simon leaned close, voice ragged. “Come for me, Bunny. Do it with him watching.”

That broke you.

Your climax hit in crashing waves, thighs trembling, cries muffled against Simon’s shoulder. He groaned low, deep, spilling inside you with a brutal snap of his hips.

You collapsed forward, panting, skin slick with sweat and love and everything in between.

And before you even had time to catch your breath—

“Up,” Johnny said, voice tight. “My fuckin’ turn.”

Simon chuckled, smoothing your hair. “Still want more?”

“She always does,” Johnny said, pulling you off Simon like you weighed nothing. “Don’t you, Bunny?”

You nodded weakly, still pulsing between your legs.

Johnny laid you on your back, spread your thighs, and shoved into you with a growl.

“Fuckin’ ruined,” he hissed. “So wet it’s drippin’ outta you.”

Your back arched again, tears stinging your eyes at the overstimulation. You wanted to say stop — but your body was begging for more. And they knew it.

Simon lay beside you, stroking your face, whispering sweet nothings while Johnny fucked you like he was trying to brand himself into your skin.

“You’re alright,” Simon murmured. “You’re doin’ so good, love.”

Johnny was rougher — one hand around your throat, the other digging into your hip as he took what he needed.

“Mine,” he muttered against your ear. “You and that tight little cunt. Fuckin’ mine.”

You came again — sudden, blinding — muscles spasming as Johnny finally followed, groaning into your neck as he filled you to the brim.

Silence fell like snow.

Only the TV spoke now. Some forgotten match still going. A player fumbled. A groan from the crowd.

Johnny rolled off you, chest heaving.

Simon pulled you close, wiping the tears from your cheeks, kissing your temple. “You alright, Bunny?”

You nodded, blinking slowly. “Just… full.”

They laughed, and Johnny pulled you in too, big arm tossing over your waist like a weighted blanket.

“Next time, we turn the game off,” Johnny mumbled.

Simon hummed. “No. Let her earn it.”

You drifted off between them, sore and satisfied, the warmth of love and sin stitched into your bones.

And when they reached for you again later — because they would — you’d let them.

Don’t be a loser and steal my work. Thanks. 🐰💚

[voidbunnyxo]

Project Rabbit

Setting: Northern Colorado Wastes Time: 0500 hours, an hour before the joint op

The sun hadn’t risen, but the sky already burned a low, sick orange. Like the world had forgotten how to bleed blue.

Leon sat on the hood of a weather-stained Humvee, boot tapping against the bumper as he sipped cold instant coffee from a dented tin cup. It tasted like dirt. Better than the air — which smelled of ash and melted plastic. Every breath clung to the lungs.

Behind him, a portable ops tent hummed with muted voices and flickering monitors. The B.S.A.A. called this base camp. He called it borrowed time.

“Intel confirmed,” came Chris’s voice from the tent flap. “Signal’s legit. Pulse is coming straight from the dead zone.”

Leon didn’t look up. “You’re sure it’s Umbrella?”

Chris stepped closer. The lines in his face were deeper than they’d been ten years ago. “What’s left of it.”

Even rot leaves stains, Leon thought grimly.

Chris offered him a tablet. On-screen was an aerial image of a cratered valley surrounded by blackened forest. At its center, a structure barely showed beneath the overgrowth — dome-shaped, buried deep.

Site 76-A. CLASSIFIED. Bio-lab. Quarantined since Outbreak Day.

Leon narrowed his eyes. “Thought this site was decommissioned.”

“So did we. Until it started pinging.”

A signal, encrypted and old. Buried under two decades of dust.

And the weird part? It wasn’t a distress call. It was a heartbeat. A low pulse. Slow, steady, biological. Something alive and caged — and it wanted to be found.

An hour later, the Brits showed up.

Two shadows walked out of the early haze — one broad and quiet, the other cocky and scarred, both in worn black gear and carrying themselves like wolves.

Simon "Ghost" Riley and John "Soap" Mactavish.

Leon didn’t bother hiding the frown. “Didn’t know Task Force 141 was babysitting bioterror clean-up now.”

Soap grinned, tossing a bag down beside the tent. “Only the fun ones. Ye lot kept poking the bear. Heard ye dug up something that shouldn’t be breathing.”

“Something old,” Chris added.

Ghost stood motionless beside Soap. Mask unreadable. But Leon could feel the man watching him.

“You’ll brief us on the site?” Ghost asked, voice low, thick with grit.

Chris nodded. “We’re going in together. Joint op. Intel says it’s underground. Deep. No known layout. No survivors on record. No idea what the signal is coming from.”

Soap let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a suicide mission.”

“Only if we’re lucky,” Leon muttered.

But what none of them said — not aloud — was that the last time a signal like this came through, a city died.

As dawn broke, the four men stood shoulder to shoulder at the edge of a broken road, staring out across the cracked landscape where the lab slept.

Soap adjusted his rifle. “What are the odds this is just a glitch in the system?”

Leon smirked without humor. “About the same as us all going home in one piece.”

Ghost just pulled his mask higher. “Move out.”

And the team descended into the black scar of the earth — unaware that deep inside, she was waiting.

Not a monster. Not a girl. Something in between.