#Ghoap kinda

[ellaa-writes]

Meeting your boyfriend Simon's, best friend Johnny.

The first time you met him his eyes lit up, they caressed you skin and hugged your curves. His blood boiling hot and his tongue damn near sticking out to pant like a dog. But he knew to behave, to not let Simon see. Johnny just smiled back and hugged you a little longer than he should have but nobody complained.

The next time he saw you was at you and Simon's house. Simon inviting some friends over for a football(soccer) game. Johnny's been to Simon's plenty of times before, even during the first few months Simon kept you a secret. But he noticed the little things, besides Simon's sudden change in mood, but the way the old beat up pillows were now replaced with new ones. How the crusty smushed bar of soap that's been next to the bathroom sink has now been replaced with a yellow bottle with sunflowers on it. Small things.

He didn't know what to bring besides a case of beer, holding it nevrrously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. When you opened the door your smile bright as ever, Johnny swore he died and went to heaven. You pulled him in for a hug, telling him how sweet and thoughtful he was. Taking the flowers into the kitchen and putting them in a pretty vase.

Johnny made it his mission to bring you flowers any time he was coming over. One late night after a Sunday supper, you were in the kitchen doing the last rounds of cleaning and tidying up. Simon and Johnny sitting out on the back patio enjoying a cigar over a bottle of scotch. Simon was the one to speak up first.

"Amazing isn't she." Johnny stuck his finger in his ear to make sure it was clean, taking a minute to understand what Simon said.

"Aye, she sure is, Lt. I'm happy for ye." he took a sip of the smooth amber liquid, watching has the stars began to shine.

"Won't stop yappin' bout ya either." Johnny's head snapped in his Lieutenant's direction, eyes wide as ever. "She likes ya too." Simon wasn't even fazed, taking a drag of his cigar.

"Ya should stay tha night, she'd be thrilled bout 'at." Simon finally looked at Johnny, smile big as ever. "Watcha ya say?" Johnny didn't have to be told twice.

[bashi-splashy]

posting on tumblr first instead of twt for once 🫡🫡

i think Ghost called brainwashed Soap “johnny” one too many times…

[s3rrrpentine]

first page for the other part (｡・//ε//・｡)

tbh ahhhh i cannot wait to show you all the next parts!!!!! so to ease my excitement i give you. 1 page. for now. and hopefully my creative juice keeps being juicy so i could complete the comic wayyy waaaayyyyyyyy fasssssterrrrrrrrrrr (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

[spookyscaryspoon]

just thinking of... poly!141 hybrids living in a cozy cabin deep in the woods...

it's winter and Kyle stumbles upon an unconscious Spring faerie, far from where she should be...

she's bruised and beaten, and Kyle being the sweetheart he is, knows he cannot leave her there!

he takes her back to the cabin, and while the others are still out hunting or doing yard work, he sneaks her into his bedroom and takes care of her wounds

Johnny is the first back, holding a heap of groceries from back in town. as he puts them down, he smells something in the air...a foreign scent of flowers...a hint of vanilla, maybe?

he rushes to kyles room, catching him red handed holding a little fae. he's immediately smitten.

they're both treating her, preparing food while waiting for her to wake up, distracted by her completely, when Simon finally saunters in, smelling like the sweat with a mix of the outdoors having just come back from hunting. hes immediately on guard when he spots the Fae on Kyle's bed, pulling Johnny away from the bed with a whine as hes forced away from his new little fae.

Behind them, John finally walks in arriving from the outside and coming to see what all the commotion is about.

fuck, how are they going to explain this?

[yi3248]

napping

[emmster]

Little wip 👀

(Actually proud of my lineart here hence I’m showing it off)

[forestshadow-wolf]

Soap honestly thinks that he's very terrible to be around, like just his general presence is annoying. It's honestly to the point that soap doesn't even realize he's being self depreciating

So he cannot fathom why ghost...? Hangs around him so much.... does he like... hate himself or something??? Should soap be worried about him? Does he need to go tell price that Ghost is being mean to himself by subject himself to soap's presence?

When ghost initiates something with him one night he goes a long with it but only because he assumes that either ghost didn't want to deal with strings attached (what with the mask and all that), or he was desperate and maybe everyone but him is too scared to touch the big bad ghost

When ghost asks for them to become more serious (it was always deadly serious for soap), he says yes even though he's SO confident that this could only end horribly for him.

Ghost really, honestly, struggles to get soap to see that it's really enjoyable to be around him. But slowly it starts to get better. Some days are better than others. And it's not perfect, but neither is Ghost.

Can you tell I like fuckin' with soap?

[eiraeths]

age difference ghoap but it’s just soap singing your love by outfield as horribly as possible to annoy ghost

soap: youuu know i like my boys a little bit olderrr

ghost, covering ears: i will actually pay you to shut the fuck up.

[balltons]

minors + ageless blogs dni

johnny w/ kitty!reader

johnny never really thought of himself to be a cat person, till garrick dropped you into him and simon’s lives. it took a while to get used to you, your reluctance to listen, how you would bother them to no end, and breaking all their shit (he remember when simon yanked you away from the shelf, blabbering curses and insults as you tried to push the big glass of all the dirt and sand they collected from their ops together).

still, someway somehow you wormed your way into their hearts, making room for yourself in this space that was supposed to home only them.

it’s been a month since you’ve become part of their family. currently, simon is out on a mission. reconnaissance, which isn’t long but its still enough to leave johnny aching and antsy. for once in their lives you’re not being a nuisance, making yourself scarce by staying trapped in your room. they spoil like you that, their pretty kitty.

now that he thinks about it, johnny hasn’t seen you for a long while. in fact, your food bowl remains untouched, all the meat and veggies he placed in there still there. you’re not known for disappearing for hours on end, clinging to their side or at least being in the same room as them.

did something bad happen to you? are you sick? do they need to take you to the vet? a million different questions run through his head as he walks over to your room, opening the door.

“kit?” he asks, looking through the dark room, his eyes adjusting almost immediately thanks to his training. the hallway light helps too, but he’s rather give himself the credit than some utility. as he opens the door wider, he can make out the small shape that is you under the sheets. it looks like you’re on all fours, and johnny prays you haven’t thrown up on your bed again.

he sighs, his shoulders dropping a bit knowing you’re alright. his hand reaches for blanket, and he clicks his tongue, “better nae hae barfed oan thos’ sheets kit, ah juist replaced them after a'” he states, pulling the blanket back, and nearly drops it as he does.

the sight before him isn’t at all what he expected to see. on one hand, he’s happy you didn’t throw up, but on the other..

you’re on all fours, though you’re on an elbow and the side of your cheek. since your body is angle, your, actually, johnny’s shirt is bunched up close to where your chest begins (he knows it’s his because he wore it when he went to the gym yesterday).

your shorts are gone, and he doesn’t have any time to wander where they are as he stares at the hand between your legs. you’re not even properly fingering yourself, your claws too long to try any penetration. instead, you just rub your clit furiously, frustrated mewls and whines displaying that it isn’t enough.

johnny’s heard about something like this happening to other cat owners, but they usually get spayed, or put them on suppressants. when gaz brought you to them, he assumed you were already fixed. turns out, he was wrong.

a loud whimper from your mouth draws johnny’s attention away from your pussy to your face, and his heart clenches at the sight of you all teary-eyed. it contrasts the neutral expression you display all the time, the only hint of emotion being the way your pupils dilate or shrink. how long have you been crying? he thinks it’s been a while, girls can’t get wet that easily in an hour (unless they’re with johnny or simon, if course).

“john-ny,” you struggle, and he nearly melts. it’s a rarity for you to speak, keeping your speech contained to little mewls and purrs. you only ever say something if you really need it, and from the looks of it, you need him.

he’s sitting on the bed by your head, hands coming up to cup your face and wipe the tears that leave your eye line. he forces you to sit on your knees, keeping it out of his line of view. as much as he’d like to stare, he needs to hear what you have to say first.

“a’m 'ere kit. ye dinnae git tae worry anymair just.. tell me whit's wrong,” he takes a deep breath in between, squeezing your face in an attempt to not squeeze something else. you continue to sniffle, looking up into his eyes. he has a hard time finding your irises, your eyes looking similar to the void rather than the pretty color he grew to know and love.

he notes how warm you are under him, and a part of him worries that you run a fever, till you begin to speak again, “h-hurts johnny, hurts’ lot,” you mumble, leaning further into his touch. he has half an idea where it could be hurting, but johnny’s just so eager to hear you speak, to watch your lips form around different words. “aye? where does it hurt, kit? kin ye tell me? show me?” he almost doesn’t hear himself, the sound of his blood pumping making him near deaf.

you give him a shy look, as if hesitant to let him help you. he’s about to reassure, tell you that it’s all okay and he’ll do anything to help, but then you lean back, sitting on your bum and spreading your legs. he can see just how wet you really are, the creamy arousal that coats your cunt, juices already staining the mattress. johnny’s jaw nearly drops, and he feels his arms hang heavy at his sides as he listens to you speak.

“been hurting so long..” you snivel, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “i-i never felt like this ‘cause the vets always had meds and- and-“ johnny feels his heart grow tighter. you never experienced one? it has to be a lie. still, even if it is, it must’ve been a long time since you’ve been like.. this.

his eyes dart between your pussy and your face, wondering what he should do. he knows the easiest way is to help you, but something holds him back. for one thing, you’re a pet, not a person (even if you are technically half, johnny doesn’t like to think about the biology). it would be wrong to touch you like that. and even if it wasn’t, he’s a married man. simon has just begun to like you. he’s sure if he helped you, you’d become a stray the moment simon got home from deployment. doesn’t matter if johnny doesn’t tell him, the man can figure out near anything.

johnny sighs, repressing his own urges as he begins to get off the bed, “a’right, i’ll see if i kin head to th' vet real quick 'n' git some suppressants,” and he’s ready to leave at that. ready to close and lock the door on this forever.

but you just have to reach out with your wet hand, claws digging into his wrist.

“can’t wait, johnny,” you pout, looking up at him with those wet and pleasing eyes of yours, “need it now.”

any thoughts of getting you suppressants exit his mind, all his blood running to his prick.

after all, it’s his duty as your owner to take care of you, simon will understand. plus, it’s been a while since he sunk himself in such a wet hole.

——

simon shrugs off his mask as he steps inside his suite. well, less a suite and more like a glorified cell. it’s a day’s drive from the base to the house, but he needs a bit of a breather anyway before he gets back to johnny and the cat (you). he runs a hand over his dog tags, finding comfort in brushing against the ring that sits beside them.

he collapses back onto his bed, getting out his cellphone and thumbing through the notifications. there’s a few messages from johnny that just delivered since he can access his phone now, but his eyes flick to a notification from his security app, one of their cameras capturing excessive movement in the house. alarms ring in his head as simon registers that the alert appeared an hour ago, and he clicks it to check the state of the house. his blood runs cold at the prospect of johnny or you being hurt.

but then, it becomes warm when he sees just what the excessive movement is.

ironically, johnny has you in doggy, one hand digging into the fat of your hips as he slams himself home over and over into your kittycunt. the other keeps a firm grip on your tail, yanking at the poor appendage so you meet his hips at the same brutal pace. however, you don’t seem to mind the pain, in fact, you enjoy it.

he can barely see your irises, eyes so far rolled back that all he can register is white. your tongue is lolled out, looking more like a drooling dog rather than the passive kitty he’s come to know. and the sounds-

skin slapping on skin, johnny’s grunts and growls, your high-pitched moans and mewls. he thinks that’s all there is, till her hears johnny speak.

“aye, lik' that, kit? hah, just wantit tae be f-fucked lik' a bitch in heat feel better, is that a' ye wantit?” he groans, talking down to you like some dumb animal rather than their adored housepet. and all you can do is nod your head, incomprehensible sounds of pleasure begging for more.

at that, he clicks his tongue, moving closer to you. he practically blankets your back, letting go of your tail in favor to wrap an arm around your waist. seems you would collapse otherwise because you go limp in his hold. simon doesn’t blame you, even for him johnny can be a bit hard to carry. his mouth comes up to your ear, but he doesn’t bother lowering his voice.

“bet you'd feel even better if ah breed ye, lik' th' sound o' that?” at your moan, johnny lets out a strained chuckle, and simon can tell you tightened at the sound of that, “need wurds, kit, cannae hae yer kittycunt do a' th' talking,” he demands, moving his hand to grasp one of your tits rather than your side.

you manage to come back a bit at that, blinking slowly as you open your mouth, “w-wanna be br-bred, i- ah, wanna be bred please johnny-“ the last bit contorts into a whine as johnny’s hips speed up, fucking you even faster.

the camera can barely pick up what he says, the sound of you two’s coupling overpowering any dialogue between the two. all he knows if that johnny has got you dumbed down to your basic instincts, but it seems you’ve done the same to him.

who knew that in getting you, simon would also get a dog too?

[juggalomary]

Saw someone do it and I’m a proud follower

10 notes: I go through my drafts

25 notes: i re-edit my teen au

50 notes: I finish and publish my art

75 notes: I try (keyword try) to fix my iPad

100 notes: I finish and publish all my one shots

Not likely

200 notes: i start my new projects I’ve been procrastinating

300 notes: i clear my tumblr drafts and post that

400 notes: i get twitter

500 notes: smut…

For fun

1k and I get a therapist

[shyravenns]

Ghostsoap western au sketch!

[eat-applez]

Man I’m so glad that what happens in MW3 is Ghost and Soap get married and live happily ever after and nothing bad ever happens

[robiinurheart33]

Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha

Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut

He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.

Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.

Ghost has done better in worse conditions.

Why was soap not better even after all this?

It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.

Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?

They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.

Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.

“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”

“Ghost likes that on you.”

It made him hate the Mohawk even more.

He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.

His first mission.

He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.

He runs into ghost.

At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.

A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.

“Joh-”

Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Ghost.

This is Ghost.

Ghost just fucking flipped him.

Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.

“Johnny.”

What the fuck?

Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.

“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?

Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.

“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.

“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.

Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.

“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.

Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.

[nhyhu]

new year new ship have some sleepy bois

ghost does not appreciate photos of him sleeping

also the line art i uh kinda gave up on the pants lol

[ohbo-ohno]

for ypur 1k game can i get a "lady of the house" + ghoap💋

1k game here - no more please!

you said lady so im assuming you meant ghoap x reader <3

2.5k of a kinda historical au ft. flirty stablehand johnny x kinda shy reader x very horny simon (cw for oral sex in a public place, though there's no audience except a few horses)

Your husband's staff seems to have no concept of propriety.

No, no, that's not fair to most of the servants. Your husband's stablehand has no concept of propriety.

You'd complain to Simon, but he's hardly around to find most days. While the two of you share a bedchamber, that's nearly the only time you see him. You're lucky to even share a meal with the man, these days. The housekeeper tells you he's holed up in his office more often than not, and that feels like a clear sign that he would rather not be bothered. You two aren't particularly close, so you're more than content to find other ways of amusing yourself.

You've spent most of your time since moving into the manor with your mare, a gift from husband on your wedding night. She's a lovely beast and you've found great joys on long rides with her, despite the persistent ache in your thighs recently.

But that stablehand... Johnny's too handsome for his own good and he knows it, more than willing to flirt with you even though his own master has a claim, and too skilled for you to really ignore.

You hate that you've become so endeared to him, but it's impossible to ignore his flirtatious remarks. You've been a bit starved for affection since your marriage, and Johnny really isn't bad company by any means.

In fact, as much as you know you shouldn't, you can't help but feel a bit excited as you venture down to the stables to go on your daily ride.

You're halfway there when you're joined by someone new, a large figure suddenly walking shoulder to shoulder with you. He nearly makes you jump out of you skin, but you calm a bit at the sight of your elusive husband.

"Oh!" You gasp, pressing a hand over your chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He inclines his head a bit, wrapping one hand around your elbow as you continue to walk. "My apologies. I thought I might join you on your ride today."

You're not sure how he knew where you'd be, but you take the new company in stride. "I'd enjoy that."

You're silent for the rest of the walk, not entirely comfortable in this veritable stranger's presence quite yet. Your spouse is an intimidating man, and you've hardly spent any time with him, so there's very little comfort to be found in his presence. What little time you have spent together has been in the bedroom and well... if you think of that for too long you'll go red in the face.

"Ah, the lady of the house!" Johnny calls as you enter the stables, stepping away from your mare. "You're late, my lady."

You giggle a bit at his tease. "My apologies, Johnny, I didn't realize you were on a schedule."

His smile grows and he leans against the gate to one of the stalls. "I simply have certain expectations of you, my lady - you're quite the creature of habit."

"You two have gotten close, then?" Your husband asks, and you're swiftly reminded of his presence. Your face flames at how easily you'd shown your friendship with Johnny off in front of a man you're meant to marry.

"I'm sorry," you demure, glancing up at Simon and feeling relief when you find him looking merely curious, not angry. "Johnny's- Mr. MacTavish has been helping me learn to take care of the mare you gifted me, and we've... developed a bit of a friendship in our afternoons spent together."

Simon hums, nodding to himself as his eyes flick between you and the stablehand. The only sign that Johnny is even the slightest bit fazed is the way he straightens up from where he was leaning, back straight and shoulders rolled back.

"No disrespect meant, sir," he apologizes. "Your wife is a lovely creature, I couldn't resist getting to know her a bit better."

"Yes, she is quite enchanting," Simon says quietly, guiding you a bit closer to Johnny. "You're unmarried, aren't you Johnny?"

He nods, and the two of you share a slightly confused look.

"And do you have any prospects?"

Johnny clears his throat, a tinge of red lighting up his cheeks. "No, sir."

Simon hums again, his thumb stroking over the crook of your elbow.

"Have you been taking care of my wife in my absence, Johnny?"

Now he really does blush, and you feel the same heat race through your own face.

"Only..." he clears his throat again, shifting his weight. "Only in ways entirely appropriate, sir, I promise."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. You're a good worker, a good boy, I can tell."

You're not entirely sure what's going on. The tone of voice Simon has adopted is near salacious, a tone you recognize from the few times the two of you have preformed your marital duties together. The tone sets your heart racing, a slightly uncomfortable awareness settling over you.

"Thank- thank you, sir."

"Do you know how to properly take care of a woman?"

"Simon, I'm not sure-" you try to interrupt, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation seemed to be heading.

"Hush, darling, I'm only asking the boy a question. Well, Johnny?"

Poor Johnny's face is as red as a tomato, and you'd tease him if you weren't sure you looked the same.

"Well, sir, I've... I've never had a woman of my own to take care of, but I try my best."

"Oh I'm sure you do."

Simon's contemplative look is a little concerning, so you tug on his hand just a bit. "I'd like to ride today, Simon, if you're ready?"

"In a moment," he dismisses, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder with his free hand. "Would you like to learn how to take care of a woman, Johnny?"

"Simon," you hiss, sure that he's not implying what you think he is.

He looks down at you with an innocent if slightly confused face. "What, darling? The boy needs to learn at some point."

"Not-" you clear your throat, glancing at a very confused looking Johnny from the corner of your eye. "Simon, not here."

"Oh, come off it," he scoffs, a soft smile tilting up his lips. "Is that truly your only complaint? The location? My dear, no one will see us this far out but the trees and the horses. Well," he glances over to the stablehand. "And our Johnny, of course."

"I'm sure he's familiar with how to... take care of a woman."

"I'm not," Johnny blurts, then clamps his lips shut tightly together. His blush spreads down to his neck, and you worry the poor thing might just explode.

"See? So, Johnny, would you like to learn how to care for a woman? I'm sure my lovely wife would be more than happy to introduce you to the pleasures."

Your blush doesn't calm, but looking at Johnny... the idea isn't entirely off-putting.

Johnny's about as handsome as a man can be, and if Simon has no compunctions to sharing a bit of your pleasure... well, you've always been a bit of a glutton.

Johnny seems about as unbothered by the idea as you are.

"Really, sir? You'd let me... you'd let her teach me?"

Simon laughs a little, stepping closer to Johnny and turning you so you're shoulder to shoulder with him. "Oh, I'll be doing the teaching, boy. She's just out practice doll, yes?"

That makes your breath hitch, the idea of being just a thing between the two handsome men a bit more pleasing than it should be.

"Now," Simon says, gripping you suddenly by the waist and lifting without warning. He sets you onto a wooden table, then spreads your legs. "Women's clothing can be quite annoying to work around, but the end result is more than worth it. Hold your skirts for us, love, thattagirl."

You're silent as you take the layers of clothing from your husband, afraid that if you speak you'll simply burst into flames. Exposing yourself to a man like this is difficult enough in the dark of your bedchamber, it feels near impossible in front of Johnny and in broad daylight.

But you can feel the way your center grows slick, so you obey your husband.

"Now, Johnny, kneel here, in front of me."

Johnny nearly scrambles to where Simon gestures, almost throwing himself to his knees in front of you. He's left between your thighs and Simon's legs, your husband almost stradling his back.

Simon laughs a bit. "Eager, are we?"

"Yes- yes, sir." Johnny pants a bit, staring up at you from the floor. He can't seem to decide whether he'd like to look at your undergarments or your face, eyes flicking between the two.

"Good lad," Simon brushes a hand over the back of Johnny's head, palming it. "Now, you'll have to take off her undergarments before anything else."

You shift a little in your spot as Johnny reaches up tentatively, eyebrows slightly furrowed. His hands brush over your bottom half for several long seconds, and you start to shift a little more, near whining.

"Hurry now, Johnny, you'll drive the poor thing mad."

He adopts an almost determined expression, and a moment later you hear a rip and feel a breeze against your most sensitive parts.

"Johnny!" You scold, leaning far enough forward to glare down at the man.

He flinches a little, sinking away. "I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't know how else to get them off!"

"You never destroy a woman's clothing like that! You're not off to a very good start so far."

You regret the words a bit when Johnny's face drops, his lip poking out in a slight pout.

Simon laughs, shifting to rub a hand over your bared knee. "Let up on him, darling, he's inexperienced. Besides, it's rather easy to make up for a few ripped seams."

You glare lightly at Simon, just to make sure he knows you're unamused, then lean back to relax against the wall. "Well, then you'd better get started."

Johnny looks up at Simon, neck craning back. "How...?"

Another rough chuckle from your husband, and he shoves Johnny forward by the back of the head until his face is buried between your thighs.

"Oh!" You yelp.

"With your mouth, Johnny. Trust me, it's far easier to learn to use your tongue like this than it is to learn how a lady likes her apologies."

You shoot an unimpressed look up to Simon, but it quickly melts off your face when you feel Johnny's lips and nose press to your center. He doesn't really do anything, just sort of stays there.

You shift again, try to press forward.

"Lick her, Johnny," Simon explains, putting a bit more pressure on the back of the stablehand's head. A moment later, there's a tentative brush across your folds.

You jolt a bit at the first tough, then relax into the second. Johnny's clumsy but confident, and you spread your legs a bit wider so he can fully explore you.

"Lift your skirts a bit further, love, I can't see," Simon instructs, leaning over so he's hovering directly above Johnny. You obey, and your husband hums as the view.

"Do you see the little bud at the top there, Johnny? Focus in on that, it's what gives women pleasure."

Johnny's evidently a quick study, as he focuses his attentions onto your clitoris as soon as the instructions are out of Simon's mouth. "Oh!" You gasp, back shooting up from the wall.

It takes him several long minutes to figure out what keeps you moaning in pleasure rather than whining in frustration, but once he does he keeps his tongue stroking in just the right way to make you go boneless.

"Attaboy, there you go," Ghost praises, stroking over the stripe of hair on Johnny's head. "Hear her moanin'? That means you're making' her feel good, so keep going."

He's a good listener, Johnny, and you're nearly brought to a peak with just his tongue alone.

"Add a finger now," Simon says.

Johnny pulls back just far enough for you to see his confusion. "A finger, sir?"

Simon huffs out a laugh, reaching down to grab Johnny's right wrist and pull it to your bared core. "Yes, Johnny, a finger. You put one or two into her hole to stretch her out enough to take you. Now, you won't be fucking my wife today, but the stretch will still feel good for her."

The way he talks about you like you're not even there combined with the sudden slow stretch of Johnny's fingers has you moaning. If you were even slightly more aware of anything but the two men in front of you, you'd worry about being heard. As it is, the attention returning to your clit keeps you suitably distracted.

Simon scoffs in front of you, tugging Johnny's hair a bit in reprimand. "You have to move the finger, boy, you can't just set it in there and do nothing. C'mon, push it in and out a bit."

"Yes, sir," Johnny pants, glancing up at you past all the skirts. "Sorry, my lady."

"That's- that's alright," you excuse, trying to keep your voice steady. Judging by the smirk on your husband's face, you're not particularly successful.

You let yourself float off in the pleasure for a bit, smiling gently at the cautious movements of Johnny's finger - he almost seems scared to hurt you, and you can't help but be endeared to the stablehand all over again.

"Look at that," Simon sighs, his hand moving further up on your thigh. "Hear how wet she is? Means she's ready for another finger. Go on, Johnny. Stretch her out some more."

The two fingers are enough to get you off - all that attention focused right on your clit and just enough of a stretch for you to feel. You come with quiet moans, shifting your hips forward into Johnny's lips as much as you can.

He doesn't slow or change his motions at all, and you ride the orgasm to completion happily. After, though, you can't help but whine at the overstiumlation.

"Alright, pull off now, Johnny. You hear those noises? Those mean she doesn't feel good anymore."

Johnny almost jerks away from you, glancing up at you with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, my lady," he quickly apologizes, rising up on his knees to get closer as you drop your skirts. "I didn't meant to hurt you."

You smile softly at him, reaching down to cup his cheek. "You didn't, Johnny, it's alright. Just a bit too much."

He nods as he leans into your hold, and the three of you rest in silence for a few moments.

Eventually Simon tugs you off of the table, pulling both you and Johnny into his arms for a half-hug. It's nice - your husband isn't too much of a fan of physical contact, so you relish in it when you can.

Johnny coughs a bit with a blush when you all three finally seperate. "So... when's my next lesson?"

You smirk as you loop arms with Simon, both of you sharing an amused glance.

"Come to our chambers anytime, Johnny," you offer, patting him on the chest before stepping away. "I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind giving a longer demonstration on how to fully pleasure a woman."

You leave a red-faced Johnny in the stables with tented pants, both you and Simon chuckling to yourselves as you head back to the manor.

[wdymidekn]

WIP

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