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sexymothmanincarnate · 16 days

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oh this was beautiful

not to get too personal, but that segment about assessing sexual shame and how feelings can be overwhelming, just *chef's kiss* BEAUTIFUL

the characterization of johnny, absolutely fantastic

10/10 piece!

Johnny F**ks You in Ghost's Bed (18+)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content Warnings: Voyeurism, oral (f-receiving), PIV sex, crying during sex, emotional hurt/comfort Word Count: 4.8k

Service Dog Johnny Part 6 (all part links here)

“Johnny.” Simon stops him with a hand on his arm, bending his head closer to tell his friend something.

You sit there on the edge of the bed, watching the side of your boyfriend’s mask move as he speaks, tracking his hand leaving Johnny’s elbow to fiddle with the way the skull balaclava sits on his nose. Johnny has his head tilted down like he’s listening carefully, both of them angled slightly away from you so it’s impossible to catch what he’s saying no matter how hard you strain your ears.

Johnny shortly nods, and they break away at the same time.

“What was that all about?” you probe.

“Havin’ my balls if I do anything you don’t like,” Johnny teases, ambling over to you.

You know that’s not true. If anything, the deflection leads you to believe that he’s protecting Simon, like he told him something personal. You’re half tempted to twist your head around and get a look at your boyfriend, but before you can entertain the thought, Johnny sinks to his knees in front of you.

“Now,” he says, wrapping his hands around the backs of your calves and dropping his face to kiss the top of your knee, “aren’t you a bonnie thing?”

A warm flood of goosebumps skitters up your skin, and you mumble out a quick thank you, because that is awfully nice and unnecessary for him to say that. His eyes raise to yours as he moves his mouth to your other knee, and your legs do a little twitch like they want to jerk apart.

“Doin’ alright?” he asks, sliding his hands down your legs to your ankles, holding firm around your chilled skin.

“Mhmm.” From the breathy way your answer comes out, it doesn’t sound like you’re doing alright. It sounds like you’re naked and wet and just barely hanging on with the storm of impulses and emotions swirling through you.

Johnny blinks as he smiles lazily up at you, running his hands back up to your knees, your thighs, tucking his palms underneath and pulling you a few inches nearer. You’re forced to spread your legs to make room for him, and then he tugs you even closer, hooking his hands around your hips to get you almost to the edge of the bed.

You aren’t dumb, you know what’s about to happen. Your arms collapse down to elbows and you try to be helpful by keeping your knees up and out of his way, but memories won’t stop assaulting you. All the embarrassments in the past, when you couldn’t perform the way you were expected to. And that was with your ex who didn’t care much about getting you off, but this is Johnny, whose express purpose here is to help you cum, and it’s unimaginable how much worse it would be to disappoint him.

“Johnny,” you whisper when his mouth makes contact with that intimate skin of your inner thigh, perusing it with his lips.

“Hmm?” He mouths at you, little prickles from his chin brushing against your leg.

“Don’t… um… don’t feel like you need to do this for very long. I sometimes can’t cum, so don’t worry about it, if it doesn’t happen. It’s just me.”

Johnny pauses with the softest part of your thigh held gently in his teeth, and his beautiful eyes flick behind you to where you assume Simon sits on the bed. It’s only a quick glance, but it has you a little flustered with the idea that you just said something stupid and now they’re laughing at you.

Before you can really process the feeling, Johnny directs those ocean blues your way again, grazing his rough cheek against your skin. “Got it.”

You’re finally able to relax onto the bed, trusting the absolute seriousness you see in his eyes. You like that about him, that even though he’s pretty much always making you laugh about something, he knows when to shut up.

A grateful sigh leaves your chest when he hooks his arm around the outside of your hip, splays his hand out across your lower belly. You don’t have to worry about a thing now, you just get to lay here with your knees spread apart and focus on the relief of having his thumb brushing down the seam of your pussy, finding your clit. It feels familiar, like maybe because that’s the angle you use when you touch yourself, it’s not quite so jarring to have someone else making those same strokes.

A little adjustment of his shoulders against your thighs, and you’re vaguely aware that he must have spit on you because that touch suddenly gets slippery and wonderful, making you fall fully onto the bed and surrender to it. Johnny shifts your other leg up over his shoulder, those dark lashes nearly hiding his eyes as he focuses on the path of his thumb parting the folds of your pussy.

“There she is,” he mumbles, so low and quiet that you barely catch it, as he leans down to press a kiss to your clit.

It’s soft, just his lips lingering there, and then the slow slide of his tongue against your clit. That delicious sensation has your eyes fluttering closed, your hand wandering down to hold onto his forearm.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, to no one in particular.

Johnny makes a pleased noise low in his throat, turning his face to mouth at your inner thigh again. He’s rough to your legs, almost mean compared to the gentle treatment your clit was just getting. You’ve never had thigh hickeys before, but you’re convinced he’s giving you some now, and the fucked up part is that you actually love it. You like that he thinks your legs are pretty enough to mark up. That they’re soft enough to enjoy dragging his chin across them, pressing his teeth into the skin just for fun.

And then he uses his thumb to ease the hood of your clit back, letting his mouth fall open to run his tongue against you and give you a purposeful suck, and your legs fucking spasm with it. Your body goes rigid as you endure that blinding white flash of overstimulation, and thank god he seems to understand because he backs off to give you an apologetic little kiss. Johnny’s fingers curl in a comforting motion over your belly, gently lapping his tongue at your pussy for a moment to let you settle.

As if he’s exactly gauged your tolerance level, that mouth comes for you again, and this time it’s fucking perfect. It’s a slow river of continuous movements and soft sucks, and he soon has your pussy getting hot for him, welcoming him, fucking believing in him, like he’s some god you were never sure existed. Your pelvic muscles have a mind of their own all of a sudden, tensing and relaxing at random intervals as your hips flex and you drool your arousal against his chin.

You give up your hold on his arm to just enjoy it, but before you can pull your hand away he hooks your pinky finger with his index. As if he doesn’t currently have his face smashed into your cunt, Jonny keeps his hand there on your belly for a moment, running his thumb over your smallest knuckle.

Maybe maintaining high levels of focus and coordination isn’t the worst thing about their job.

Johnny eventually releases your hand, and you almost mourn it until he wraps it around the back of your thigh, pressing your leg up and out to give him room to trace his other fingers through your folds.

With razor sharp clarity, your focus narrows on the feel of them at your opening, the anticipation of getting filled up, which you somehow forgot about amidst the heat from his mouth. You’re going to get very filled tonight, and you can’t help but clench and make a few begging sounds while you wait for it. You’ve been good, and patient, and you deserve to get some fingers inside you now.

Instead of pushing them in, Johnny’s fingers disappear at the same time that his mouth leaves you. Your eyes spring open to glance down your naked body, only to see him dragging his first two fingers out of his mouth, coated with his spit past the second knuckle. He gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, not because it’s fake but because he looks almost dazed. Happy and relaxed and drunk on what he’s doing, he closes his eyes as his mouth lowers again, and he doesn’t hesitate before working those two slick fingers deep inside.

You groan with the surging heat of it, your head flexing back and thoughtlessly breathing a little, “Oh, Johnny, thank you.”

“Right sweetheart, aren’t you?” Johnny muses, giving you his fingers nice and slow.

“Proper angel,” comes Simon’s quiet agreement from behind you.

You can’t help but crane your head back to look for him, finding that familiar mask and those dark eyes trained on your face. But your gaze is caught immediately on the movement of his hand, your boyfriend’s fingers slowly tugging at the hard front of his pants.

Simon has never, not once, touched himself in front of you. You’re so stunned that it pulls you completely out of the warm bubble you were in, your gaze ripping back to his face, though between the dim light and the mask, he gives nothing away.

He feels safe enough to touch himself with his friend here, but not when it’s just you? You glance back down to Johnny, heart galloping and anxiety expanding in your lungs as you make some unfortunate mental leaps.

Why did Simon choose Johnny for this? How can he be so very confident that he’ll take care of you? Has he done this before? Is this a thing they do? Simon gets a new girlfriend, and Johnny gets free sex?

There’s no point in continuing now, you won’t get past this fear clogging up your throat. You reach down to grab hold of Johnny’s hair, easing his mouth away from you.

“Johnny,” you whisper, not really sure what to do.

He must see something worrisome in your face, because he blinks quickly and removes his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

Pushing yourself upright, you do the only thing you can think to salvage this, and throw your arms around his neck, sliding down to the floor with him.

Johnny makes a surprised sound, wrapping one solid arm around you.

“Johnny,” you whisper slowly, taking pains to make sure Simon can’t hear, “have you ever fucked one of Simon’s girlfriends before? Please be honest.”

Johnny lets out a shocked laugh. “No.”

Thank fuck.

A deep, stuttering breath leaves you, and you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, burying your face in the collar of his shirt. He’s relaxed against you now that he knows what the trouble is, smoothing his hand over your upper arm in a comforting motion.

“Can we fuck right now?” you ask, breathing in the cozy smell of his skin. “Are you ready enough?”

“Mhmm.”

You pull back to get a look at his face, smiling a little so he won’t think you’re still upset over nothing. He has the same exact smile on, and when your eyes meet, you have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him.

“Okay,” you say instead, rising to perch yourself on the edge of the bed. “Naked time.” The faster you can get past this, the better.

Getting to his feet, Johnny merely plants his hand right in the middle of your face and pushes you backwards, the action so fast and unexpected that you fall like a domino.

“Hey!” you protest indignantly, but he just laughs and strips his shirt off, letting the faint clink of his dog tags be his only answer.

Fine, whatever. You scoot farther to the middle of the bed, and reluctantly turn your head again to look at Simon.

He’s definitely not touching himself anymore, and his knee is now drawn up in a way that blocks you from seeing anything between his legs. You really hope he didn’t get scared off by your overreaction.

“Hey, baby,” you coo softly.

He makes that noise he does when he doesn’t want to talk, a little acknowledging rumble.

You mouth, ‘Are you okay?’

He dips his chin in affirmation, and his hand wanders again, touching where you can’t see.

You smile up at him, letting every bit of relief and gratitude convey with your expression. This isn’t something to be afraid of, it’s merely progress you didn’t expect. Tangling a hand in your hair, you arch your chest up and peck a silent kiss in the air.

Your man tilts his head, giving you that adorable, eye-crinkling smile that you can distinguish through any of his masks. It’s not even happiness thrumming in your chest now, it’s that feathery, rushing feeling of being in love.

So you do the obvious thing, blink innocently up at him while you push two fingers deep into your mouth and close your lips around them.

Simon’s eyes flutter for a second before closing, his head thumping back against the wall. Oh, he liked that.

The sound of a condom wrapper drags your attention back to Johnny, who’s now completely naked. From the way he’s grinning, you’re pretty sure he just saw you flirting with Simon, and he liked it too. The condom gets expertly rolled on, and you open your legs to show him that you’re ready.

It’s not particularly sexy or graceful, that first minute or two. There’s some arranging of bodies, and it’s sober and quiet. Johnny is just as beautiful as you’d expected him to be – tan, with scattered scars and a decent stock of body hair. But it doesn’t really feel like a stranger settling himself over you, cradling your head and making sure you’re comfortable before he lines himself up. You can hear both of you breathing in the silence – your stuttered, nervous inhales, and his slow, concentrated ones.

He keeps a hand on your mons as he begins to sink into you, rolling a finger over your clit to give you something else to focus on. Your gaze floats around, wanting eye contact but too self conscious to maintain it. You fasten your eyes on the silver chain around his neck, angling your hips to help him in.

And then it’s done.

Thighs flush to Johnny’s hips, you make a satisfied sigh and raise your eyes. The seriousness on Johnny’s face instantly smooths away to a smile, and he bumps the tip of his nose against yours. High five, friend.

There’s no sudden barrage of guilt, no sick weight in your belly. Just an intense feeling of fullness, and a new craving in your chest, the desire for emotional connection. It hits you out of nowhere, as he begins to rock into you and your body acclimates to the feeling of him. You want to be able to talk to him, confide in him the confusing swarm of ideas that plague you, even now. You want to be able to kiss him, give yourself over to mindless sex and let his lips play with yours when they’re so conveniently right there.

But this isn’t that kind of relationship, so you fuck him instead. He lowers his head to suck on your neck, and you concentrate on that feeling of deep fullness, guiding him towards the motion you like with little throat noises when he gets it right.

It doesn’t take long. You like getting fucked, and he’s suddenly hitting all your good spots and making heat spread down your legs. Johnny’s so good, he’s so nice. He kisses your cheek and nips at your ear, making pleased noises whenever you inadvertently clench around him.

Maybe you should be saying something, engaging with him a little, but that takes brain activity, and right now you just want to cum. It’s blurring the edges of your consciousness, the tightening in your belly and the promise of that flood of pleasure making it impossible to think about much else.

And then he gets his knee up under your hip a little, hitting a deeper angle that’s like fucking lightning—

There’s no time to warn him before you’re cumming, the breath caught in your throat as your head flexes back and your muscles go tight.

Johnny makes a choked, “Sh– ite,” just as your pussy begins to spasm in earnest and your lungs unlock with a stuttered cry.

Fuck, it’s good. It’s wave after wave of smooth chocolate washing over your skin, replacing your mortal flesh with gooey sweetness. You fucking needed that, and you lie there panting, letting him wring every drop of it out of you, until there’s nothing left but an achy warmth every time he hits the very back of your cunt.

Johnny slows down for you, but you don’t think he finished. When you finally find the will to drag your eyes open, he meets you with a pleased look on his face, that lazy confidence of a man who knows he did good.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“‘Course.”

He seems to be in no rush to find his own finish, his body relaxed around you as he slowly moves. Your eyes trace over his face that’s so close, and it begins to catch up to you— that feeling of intense gratitude, of being given a gift you never thought you’d receive. You thought you’d spend many more years — possibly forever — never getting touched, never getting fucked. And now all of a sudden you’re here in a sticky puddle of your own cum, and that tight emotion in your chest feels almost overwhelming.

Damn you for not wanting to kiss. The way he’s looking at you right now is the worst, all soft and interested as he runs his thumb down your jaw and slow-fucks you.

Why, though? Why do you actually not want to kiss him? Because you’re already fucking and exchanging dopamine, and realistically it wouldn’t change anything between you. Maybe it’s just the post-nut clarity talking, but you realize for the first time that the reason isn’t because you want to keep him at arm’s length, it’s because you think you don’t deserve it.

This whole arrangement has felt like you’re living someone else’s life, someone who’s worth being looked after like this. It’s not something you’ve ever experienced before, and it feels so unsafe to venture into something new. It feels comfortable and familiar to decide that you can’t allow yourself to fully experience Johnny, that you must ration him instead, nibbling on little bits so you don’t grow too accustomed to the taste.

You’ve been subconsciously depriving yourself, as if maintaining your unmet needs is crucial to making sure you don’t grow beyond the person you’ve always been.

“Johnny,” you whisper, curling your hand around his shoulder. “Can I try a kiss?”

“Mhmm.” He doesn’t seem all that surprised, just lines up your mouths and then hovers there for a moment, presumably giving you a chance to change your mind.

You know what you want. You raise your chin and bring your mouth up to his, closing your eyes while that sensation of warmth and newness settles inside you. Johnny’s lips conform around yours, gently nudging and seeking for a handful of seconds before you pull away and let your head drop back to the bed.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, looking back and forth between your eyes.

Fuck, why is a mountain of emotion suddenly expanding in your chest? You try to force it down, nodding your head. “Yeah.”

His thumb strokes under your ear, his other hand curling into your hair as he lowers his mouth, lingering a little more firmly on your lips as he continues to rock himself into you.

The combined sweetness of being kissed and fucked absolutely kills you. It isn’t arousal suddenly flooding your nervous system, it’s feeling. Something deep and raw is clawing at the back of your throat, prickling in your eyes. Because in this moment you do feel worthy of being wrapped in Johnny’s affection, as surface-level as it may be. You do feel like you deserve to let him kiss you like this, parting your lips and letting your tongue find his.

You make a ragged inhale into his mouth, and just as you’re surrendering that wash of water in your lashes, you have a realization that locks up your spine.

You cannot let Simon see you cry.

Nothing could possibly be worse than letting him witness his girl sobbing while his friend fucks her. This is a disaster, this is the most horrible thing that could possibly be happening right now, but the harder you try to force the tears away, the more they threaten to overtake you.

You need to tell Johnny, now. You need to let him know that this has to be hidden from Simon somehow, whether it be switching positions or taking a break or something. But what if Johnny just decides you should stop? You could start crying like an idiot, and he could very well put his clothes back on and go home with blue balls again.

Suddenly you’re panicking, brain wiped of all reason and unable to communicate what you need. You don’t have enough control over yourself to even begin to problem solve right now. With your thoughts racing through all the worst possible outcomes, you do the only thing you can and tighten your hand on Johnny’s shoulder, trying to silently convey the emergency. A tear breaks free, tickling down to your ear, and you suck in a distressed breath as Johnny pulls back to look at you.

It takes him all of two seconds to assess the situation, and he stops moving between your legs.

“Hey LT, she’s gonna be crying here in a minute.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp, desperately blinking tears away, only to get a fresh wall of water blocking your vision. “I don’t know why this is happening, I’m not s—ad, I’m just f-f-feeling a lot of things.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” His thumb brushes wetness off your cheek. “You want to stop for tonight?”

You vigorously shake your head, worry gripping you as strong as ever. “No, please— I just— Just let me c-cry for a minute, I’ll be o-k—ay.”

God, you’re mad at yourself. You want to crank your head back and check how Simon is handling this, but then he’ll see your watery eyes and you can’t do that to him.

You wrap your hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, tugging his face down to whisper in his ear, “Is Simon okay?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Johnny says back, kissing your cheek. “Do what you gotta do, we’re all fine.”

You nod, unreasonably comforted by the sureness in his voice.

“Big breath,” Johnny instructs, habitually wiping your wet temples.

You obediently sucking a stuttered lungful and release it through your nose, grateful to have something to focus on as the tears continue to slide into your hair.

“That's a girl.” Johnny gives you a warm smile, cupping his hand around your cheek. “Got another for me?”

Okay, that actually lights up something completely different in your brain, nudging you out of your mental spiral with a tiny bit of praise. This… isn’t bad. It’s just a little cry. You’re allowed to cry.

And in fact… Maybe it’s good.

Maybe it’s okay if Simon sees you cry, because it means he also gets to see you comforted. Maybe this is actually good for him to witness, so he can see that even if something happens during sex, everyone is still safe and cared for. This is a safe activity, in a safe bed.

And perhaps this is Johnny’s way of showing his friend how he deserves to be treated. How he can be spoken to gently and touched softly when he starts to lose himself to the panic. Maybe Johnny feels just as helpless about what happened to his friend as you do. Maybe he can’t make those memories go away, but he can show him this, and maybe— maybe that’s an opportunity he’s never had before.

You think back over Johnny’s endless patience, how considerate and soft he’s been with you. How he went so slow the last time, giving you time to mentally prepare to be penetrated, making sure every touch was comfortable and enjoyable. And you consider for the first time that maybe Johnny isn’t just Simon-by-proxy for you. Maybe in a way, you are that, for Johnny.

It’s just enough of a comforting thought to distract you, and the tears stop coming before you really have to worry about becoming more of a mess. Even though curiosity makes you want to look over at Simon, some inner wisdom tells you that giving him some privacy for a few more minutes would be best.

“Can you fuck me some more?” you request in a small voice, swiping at your eyes.

Johnny chuckles. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

In a way, you’re feeling better than you’ve felt all day. It’s like your heart has been freed of some burden you didn’t even know was there, and though you feel quite present in yourself, there’s a lightness to your body now.

“Thank you, Johnny,” comes Simon’s voice from behind you, sounding rougher than normal.

Johnny winks roguishly at him, lifting his hips to worm his hand in between your bodies. “I’ll be takin’ two wanks in the morning.”

You sigh in pleasure when you feel your clit getting touched again, letting your eyes close and your head relax back onto the mattress. You’re not sure if you can cum again, but getting fucked and rubbed is so lovely that you’re definitely not going to protest the attention, not when you’re so mentally exhausted from everything that’s happened.

“Does that feel nice?” Johnny asks quietly, fucking you a little harder.

You make a happy sound, shivering with that wave of arousal. “Really nice.”

“Mmmm. Why don’t you touch, so I can fuck you properly?”

You readily agree, replacing his fingers with yours and melting beneath him, empty-headed and willing.

The first faint, small orgasm takes you by surprise, fluttering through your belly in no time at all. You’re not even touching yourself that earnestly, but Johnny feels so good and thick inside you that it remains as this churning warmth low in your belly, threatening something bigger.

Maybe he’ll fuck you harder, and it will all crash apart. That’s what the subconscious part of your mind realizes you need, but the part that forms words is pretty useless at this point. The only thing you can manage is to give him pleading eyes and a whimpery noise.

“Fuck.” He gets to his elbows on the bed again, moving into you with those deep, steady movements that have you losing your grasp on reality.

This is going to make you cum, there’s no escaping it. You touch yourself and gratefully take his cock, and as your pelvis floods with heat, you stammer out, “Please, I— I’m gonna cum.”

Johnny’s mouth drops to yours, capturing any cock-dumb confessions before they can escape. His tongue sweeps over yours and he groans, and you just break apart. Shards of heat scatter through you, ripping and slicing and bleeding you out.

You’ve never heard him vocalize like that, pressing his cheek to yours when your orgasm takes you by the throat and he’s fucking you through those internal pulses. He’s panting into your neck, swearing in unfamiliar strings of words, sounding just as desperate as you feel, and then you feel him cum.

There’s no mistaking that flexing inside you, in time to the uneven rolls of his hips. The hand thoughtlessly tightening hard into your hair is so delicious that your pussy gives you a fresh flutter of pleasure, blissing you out beneath him.

His arms are shaking by the time you run your hand up the back of his neck, turning your face to kiss his temple. His skin is like velvet under your lips as he huffs hot air against your neck, eking out the last of his orgasm.

“That was so nice,” you tell him softly, stroking his hair. “Johnny, that was wonderful.”

He makes a soft grunt in his throat, putting more of his weight on you while he gets his bearings. You snuggle into that warm, weighted blanket, kissing the skin that you have access to and wrapping him in your arms.

Maybe it’s just the endorphins talking, but Johnny is now, firmly, your friend.

Next part

Really went full service dog with this one, hope you enjoyed! As always, I will do my best to hypnotize you with smut so you can't notice flaws in the dialogue.

Big thank you to @forgotten-lego-piece for beta reading the first draft of this!

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