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as-is-above-so-below · 29 days

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SHE’S BACK BABY

High Water | Happiness Series

a/n: okay guys, I have ONE MONTH left of school for the semester, THEN I WILL HAVE TIME FOR THIS I PROMISE. a lot has happened since I last updated, this was all written over a six month period and of course finished three weeks after my major breakup w my bestie of 7 years LOL ENJOY

a/n 2: and thank you always to @as-is-above-so-below for not killing me over taking forever to update and for letting me fall down her stairs and (separate incident) get a splinter from her floor LOL

warnings: military talk. TW: TORTURE

summary: Price has to make a difficult decision.

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Night vision, gloved finger tensed on the trigger of his rifle. The back alley was secured, Soap kept two feet behind him at all times as Price unlocked the side door of the “abandoned” factory warehouse.

Four pairs of boots were muted against the cracked concrete, rifles pointed upwards and watching for any hostiles in their way. The mission was to collect intel and neutralize any threats - hopefully this would deliver them to the target. A man who was a ghost just like Simon Riley, but just… tied up in debts that span decades. Expendable men were set in the center of the warehouse, a table set up with chairs, chips and cards strewn about the wooden surface. Silence was a friend to the Russian men’s killers, but not to them. A small radio lowly played some sot of music, it was melancholy and heavy on the sax. Blues, Simon reflected, fitting.

One Russian - wearing a white shirt and black pants, a deep purple bruise on his fair face - pulled a chair from the table, setting down a laptop on a handful of worn cards.

“Boss has two targets with him, they’re to be sold by the end of the week.”

The man with a green jacket shrugged, as he sat down too; kicking his feet onto the table. “Not sure if there’s a big enough market for screaming babies, друг.”

“We’ll be getting a big payout if we get them to auction before their family finds out.”

Simon’s stomach clenched, he almost shot them both right there if it wasn’t for Gaz grabbing his arm and squeezing it. He couldn’t imagine it being you and the girls, it wouldn’t be anyway. Calm down. He focused on slinging his rifle silently over his shoulder, taking hold of the corner of sturdy boxes, wrapped up in plastic film. He hauled himself up, keeping his balance and grip focused on climbing up since the crate was the height of his shoulders. He placed his right foot on the top, pushing himself up before repeating the action with the next and final crate. It was routine the way he retrieved his rifle from his back, laying prone on the hefty crate with his finger parallel to the trigger and his eye in the scope. He was swift, it was second nature; his breath didn’t falter when Gaz settled on his torso beside him with his tact scope in his grasp.

“Bravo 0-7, do you have sight on the target?”

Ghost’s eye closed, the other focusing through the scope of his rifle.

“Affirmative.”

There was a loud screech of the door Gaz was watching, Ghost’s chest clenched with anticipation as he watched the intel walk in - wearing joggers and a long sleeve shirt, talking loudly on his phone in Russian.

“Soap, detain the target as soon as he is within range. Gaz, Ghost, drop ‘em as soon as Soap is clear.”

There wasn’t a beat of silence after that, as everyone launched into action. Johnny was quick to tackle the man, the other two dropped dead within milliseconds. His gloved hand seemed to cover the man’s whole jaw, fingertips pressed uncomfortably into the man’s skin. Ghost had dropped from his position in seconds and across the room in a few strides.

“Where is yer boss?”

Gaz slid a chair behind the man, Soap shoved him into it. Struggling hands were strapped to it, the man with dark blond hair and joggers spat out vicious words towards the skull balaclava. He barely caught Price snatching the open laptop from the table before he looked back to Soap and the hostage, the Sergeant dug his nails into the Russian’s face. The Lieutenant pulled a rag from his vest, watching them intently. The 141 was a well oiled machine, oiled with the saccharine taste of blood.

“Where the fuck is yer boss?”

“You’ll never find him-“ Ghost shoved the cloth into the man’s mouth before in a flash, his knife found its new home in the hostage’s knee. The screams muffled, he leaned closer. The words spoken were low, but enough to elicit a snarl from the hostage before another scream.

Price only gazed at Ghost for a moment before looking back at the laptop, checking through folders for measly information. Gaz was stood by the door, watching for any intruders - hand on his rifle, ignoring the muffled screams of the last threat alive in the room. But he wouldn’t be alive much longer with Ghost’s knives sticking out of his body like decorations. Don’t ask for mercy, my hounds won’t give you any, he remarked.

He looked down at the dashboard, seeing a browser left open. He clicked on it, seeing an encrypted chat log with the target and his right hand man - the man screaming for his life in the chair.

Don’t be late

The damn baby is losing it

If I have to hear another word from this girl I’m going to kill her

Price is a stoic man, one hardened by war - barely scared of anything; yet, Price wasn’t prepared when he scrolled up. His heart shot straight into his throat, eyes widened by a fraction, his hand gripping the table could’ve broken it in half. He blindly grabbed his phone, taking a picture of the screen before slamming the laptop closed. It was secured between his arm and chest in three seconds, tapping a number on the screen of his phone before he walked past Gaz and out of the room. The building was secured, he knew that - yet, he felt the fear that he may be watched. The secure line droned on for only a moment before there was an answer.

“John?”

“Laswell. What the fuck happened?”

There’s crying in the background, he could recognize Winnie’s voice anywhere. They’ve been gone for three days. Nothing was supposed to get to Simon’s second chance, John thought he was sure of it. No, he was sure of it. He cased the house himself, did all the work to make sure one of their strongest and toughest allies would stay and protect them. What the fuck happened?

There’s a breath. “König’s been shot. Someone took Mellie and Y/N.”

“And the other one?”

John’s stomach settled like concrete, weighing him down and making him sick.

“She’s okay. She’s with us at the hospital. We took her to the park like her mother asked and when we came back, the door was kicked in, König was unconscious and bleeding out, and Mellie and Y/N weren’t there.” There was a pause. “There was a fight down here. König killed seven of them before going down.”

Okay. At least they could ID the bodies, link them to the mob - or at least, former associates of the mob. Any lead he could get.

If he could run his hand through his beard, he would’ve. It was a comfort, especially now that he has never felt this stressed in his life. Simon cannot know. Simon will destroy everything we’ve worked for to save them.

“It has to do with the target.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed. “Their intel is here. I am holding their intel.”

“John, these men are Russian. They are escaped convicts in the mob, known associates of the target.” There’s a pause, a short yell from Winnie, and Laswell sighing. “König left one unconscious. Roach is interrogating him now on base.”

“How long ago were they attacked?”

“Yesterday.” Another pause, soft words from Laswell to who he assumed was Winnie. “Listen, I’m working on this, but I need you. We need Ghost to run the rest of the operation, and we can’t do that if you tell him about this.”

There’s shouting behind the door, screaming from the victim that Ghost was torturing. John looked down the empty corridor, knowing he has to go to keep his friend safe.

“Because if they came after the girls, that means they’re coming after him. And they need him alive.”

His hand could have snapped that laptop in half. “He needs them alive.”

“I know, John.”

There’s more shouting in Russian, a loud thud and more incessant screaming.

“Keep this on the down low. I only need you. Make sure Ghost knows how to proceed.”

“With caution and safety off.” John murmured, muscles clenching in his chest. This is not going to end well.

“Get back to Manchester immediately. I’ll call if we’ve found something.” The line goes dead, Captain Price slipped the phone into his pocket before taking a deep breath.

He opened the door back to the room, being submersed in the victim’s screaming as Ghost’s black blade dragged into the muscles of his leg. Price shut the door, standing tall with worry on his mind. Gaz nodded to him, hands out for the laptop - John shook his head.

“Lieutenant.”

The skull mask didn’t look away from his target, the one screaming Russian that he didn’t know anything, stop, you’re hurting me, go to fucking Hell- Soap took the man by his throat, forcing his head back before spitting some choice words at his face. Eyebrows furrowed, Price tried again.

“Mactavish, take over for the Lieutenant.”

The Scot nodded, hand ripping Ghost’s knife out of the man’s thigh - all that filled the room were screams. Ghost finally looked to Price, an enraged look in his eye as he stood and walked towards him.

“What the fuck-”

“I’ve been reassigned.” The Captain spoke with an even tone. Nothing is wrong. Believe me, Simon, believe me. “You will be running this operation until I get this assignment under control.”

It seemed that anger swelled throughout the Lieutenant like a poison, invading every space of the menacing man. “What the fuck did you get reassigned for?”

“Diplomat’s wife and daughter have been kidnapped.” The lie slid off of the tongue like butter, smooth as easy to go down for some people. For others… it’s unsettling. Price was a good liar, it came easy, but his lieutenant was always able to tell. Not always immediately, but he will know sooner or later. “I have to run this. Are you okay doing this assignment-“

Ghost patted his Captain’s shoulder. “Got it under control.”

Price smiled, strained. “Knew I could count on you.” He glanced to the man in the chair; blood poured down his face. He then looked back to his Lieutenant, his right hand man with as straight of face he could muster. “We need to hurry this up. Only 10 minutes remaining.”

“Rog.”

•••

The front door was covered in a tarp, the front porch light on and curtains drawn. John Price felt the cold sickle of Death slide down his spine as he could see blood splatter on a home he once considered sacred. Simon’s home, your home, was under red tape, unknown to anyone the military who wasn’t close to Ghost. Simon created a home from nothing for his child, then opened it for you, then his new little one - God, was John proud of him. Creating a life more than worth living, in a quaint house that should have never been found - even when it was hidden in plain sight. Even the most holy grounds have had blood shed upon them.

Kate knew he was walking up the steps, she always knew, so she opened the door enough for him to slip through. Instantly, he’s met with the remnants of the carnage of your entrance way. Bullet holes and stains of blood decorated the walls and floors, even when they had been mopped and wiped clean. Dents in the walls, the floor - John imagined the beast that was König wrestling some of those fucks to the ground, snapping their necks with the twitch of his wrist. He couldn’t imagine your screams, couldn’t think of little Mellie wailing in terror.

Did you scream? Did they drug you? Hurt you? Did they dare to touch the baby? God, Simon is going to burn the world.

He looked to Kate, there’s a hardened glint in her eye. He handed her the laptop, which hadn’t been scanned yet - it would take too much time, they both knew that. She took it without a word, turning back into the front room. John strode forwards, stepping over the baby gate that was recently put there. He assumed it was to keep Winnie out of the carnage that was the front entrance, he continued on to the living room where he could see Alex sitting on the couch. A little head peered over the side of the couch and as soon as her eyes saw John, she stood at full height with tears instantly pouring down her face.

“Unc’John!”

His heart felt bruised then, the beat of it aching with every stride he took to her. He instantly plucked her from the couch, holding her to his chest as she loudly cried. “Winnie, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“Where-Where’s Mummy and Mellie?”

John could only bear to mutter a soft, “We’re finding them, sweetheart.” He couldn’t bring himself to say that the bad guys got them, that her daddy couldn’t be the hero she knows she wants him to be because of John’s decision. He was quick to bring her to the kitchen - which seemed untouched compared to the adjacent entryway - and settled her on the countertop, right beside the sink. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet to the right, filling it with water before handing it to Winnie. The five year old took greedy sips, breathing through her nose as tears raced down her face. “Put the water down, love, you need to take some deep breaths.”

He took the glass back, only for her to reach for his hand - he took it, giving it a small squeeze. God, he can’t even remember the last time he had seen his niece cry, let alone sob. Had it been that long since she had gone without you?

“Are you hungry? Tired?” He set the glass on the counter, seeing her hiccup as she tried to catch her breath. He squeezed her hand again, all Winnie could do was let more tears fall down her face.

“Where’s Mummy?” She begged, John’s tongue felt dry. He hated lying to her, he hated not knowing anything, he hated seeing her bawl her eyes out. She didn’t witness anything, thank God, but going without you after not having to for years is terrifying to a little girl. “N’Daddy? Why-Why isn’t Daddy home?” Her hand squeezed back, much harder than she did before. “M’scared.”

“I know, Winnie.” His throat began to itch, he wanted to desperately tell her that everything would be alright - that today was just a bad dream she’ll wake up from tomorrow, that her parents will be here in the morning with her baby sister. He also wanted to scream at God and tell him that it was fucked forcing him into sacrificing Simon’s family for a stupid fucking lead, even if it did lead back to you and Mellie. He didn’t want to have the possibility of telling his niece that neither of her parents were coming home, instead of the off chance of one; he hated delivering condolences, but he wasn’t sure he could do it to a five year old girl who he has watched grow up. “I think we need to go sit down again.” A little nod and she was scooped up into his arms again, held tight as he walked back into the couch; Alex nowhere to be seen, which was fine with John. He took his normal seat at the end of the couch, resting little Winnie on his chest and pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to lay on her. He tucked it in around her stomach, making sure to cover her socked feet before gently petting her hair.

His eyes wandered to the TV, to the stupid blue dog show that she seemed to love - yet she held no interest right now. His eyes darted across the floor, seeing little firetrucks and airplanes and dolls scattered across the floor; then to the little mesh play pen that sat underneath the window, the blinds pulled up enough to where Mellie couldn’t reach, the strings tied up even higher. Soft toys and colorful blocks scattered inside of it, not to mention a few blankets and a pillow or two. Winnie’s been sleeping down here. She’s petrified.

His gaze moved to the ceiling, hand gently patting her head with a calm rhythm. He’d lay here all night, way past when his back would get sore, way past when his legs would cramp, just to give Winnie some sort of stability. He refused to think about the possibility that he may have to follow through with his promise of being her godfather - he just never imagined that it might possibly be just Winnie, not Winnie and Mellie. The thought stirred nausea in his stomach, more than any whiplash, concussion, or shitty helicopter ride could give him. He had already made the silent promise to find you and Mellie, but just for tonight, his whole goal was to make sure Winnie isn’t more scared out of her mind than she already is.

“Unc’John.”

He hummed at that, looking back down her. “Yes, sweetheart.”

Her little chin swiveled to rest on his chest to look up at him, her sweet brown eyes full of tears as she whispered, “I don’t wanna visit my Mummy at-at the cemetery like Mum G-Grace.”

I don’t want to visit my Mummy at the cemetery like Mum Grace.

The words that leave his mouth are soft, spoken like a twisted prayer. “This isn’t like your Mum Grace.” His eyebrows furrowed, petting her hair back with a gentle touch. “I swear it.”

The five year old’s lip quivered, “Promise?”

John doesn’t promise anything, he never makes a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. He never dared enter the realm of uncertainty, knowing he could fail and hurt someone he cared about. Hell, he rarely makes promises on equipment orders for his men. He doesn’t even promise his mother anything, not since he promised he wouldn’t go into the military and did it anyway. But as he watched his friend’s daughter, his niece and goddaughter, sob quietly on his chest, he felt he had no choice but to nod. “Promise.”

At that, Winnie’s head finally fell to rest on John’s chest, he watched her eyes close as it was evident she had only held out to hear his promise. She had stayed awake to see and hear someone she trusted and knew well, she waited to close her eyes until she knew he would find you, even if she didn’t directly ask him to.

John felt obligated to keep Simon’s family alive since he knew just how much the deaths of his mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew nearly killed him, how the death of Grace and embracing fatherhood almost drowned him, and just how much his daughters and wife saved him from saying “Fuck it.” and stepping into enemy fire. Not only that, he felt obligated to you - to find you and Mellie, bring you home, keep Winnie safe too. You had many years left with Simon, John could see it. You couldn’t possibly leave Simon now, not when he needs you the most.

John’s eyes blinked slowly, looking down to the dozing Winnie on his chest and holding her closer, reminiscent of when she was a small toddler sleeping on his chest when he babysat. Fatigue was catching up to him, the hours in the early morning were spent combing through data for the prisoner the 141 now in had in possession, and now - your kidnapping. Simon is a dear friend, John knew him too well to say otherwise. And he also knew that you, Winnie, and Mellie were his whole world - the monster Simon was, the one John had nurtured and cared for to create a weapon, was sitting dormant in the man’s ribcage because of the unconditional love he had received. John could never argue that Simon had “gone soft” because of it, Simon had weeping and infected wounds healed by the soft touch of his wife. The Captain’s previously abused and petrified weapon was now perfect, he was the epitome of the perfect soldier. But with the knowledge of his wife and child’s safety at risk, John knew what the military didn’t.

“Captain.”

There’s a reason your husband wasn’t alerted of your abduction. John Price knew the second he said that you and Melody were missing, Simon would rip his ribcage from his chest with the force of a thousand men to expose the monster underneath. The one you only hear about in movies, the one that is passed down through tongues to generations, the one you fear will come from the shadows to eat you alive. Simon Riley is what the Captain likes to call, the Monster Under Your Bed.

“Captain.”

He grunted a little, looking over his shoulder to a stoic Alex Keller. “She’s almost asleep, Alex-“

“We might have a location.”

taglist: @idkwtftitbh @blingblong55 @local-spidey @sanfransolomitatm @frazie99 @Awilan @cosmoscoffeee @khadeejarh @babygirl-riley @emi-flaces @marini03 @jeannieboys @koshehehe @tutuwuworld @froggy-anon @cxltblood @egdeverauxx @freyjasfenrir @lexi-zsy09 @Hosshihusshi @Isopaine @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @domaniquessidehoe2 @iaur @starsinyoureyes @graciereads @urfavoritepookie @ghost-with-a-teacup @moris666 @ghostwifeyy @ziggy0stardust @live-love-be-unique @magoopi @coririley @lunyyx @sterlizx

#p.s. i’m not dead i promise #also in a writing funk but i think it’s lifting LMAO #thank you for your patience your call is very important to us #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #happiness series #happiness #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader

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as-is-above-so-below · 3 months

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part 7 of medieval ghoap x reader

my humble offering to the ecosystem. you've all met Simon "i use jealousy to hide my fear of losing loved ones" Riley. now meet Simon "i'll do morally questionable things that might drastically shift my loved one's perception of me but it's for their own good" Riley😈

warnings: +18 smut, oral (m and f), p in v, cum eating, mention of Moon Tea (birth control referenced in House Of The Dragon), protective!ghoap, soft!ghoap, questionable actions, deceit, emotional manipulation if you squint, Johnny and Simon seducing reader, feelings of self-deprecation, anxiety, insecurities, themes of forced prostitution, elements of sexual violence and trauma.

Johnny smiles softly as he watches you sleep. his finger just barely grazes your skin as its trailing down the bridge of your nose. he doesn't press the full weight of his touch, afraid that it might rouse you from your slumber.

much like Simon, you're a light sleeper. any drastic shift on the bed and you wake up. it's happened before when he'd wrung the pleasure from your veins and allowed the exhaustion to set in your bones. he thought you'd sleep through the night and he'd get to hold you until dawn.

but he moved too much and your eyes were wide open, already muttering groggy apologies and scrambling to get off the bed, to get out of the room. to run.

you're always running from him. from them.

closing yourself off. the very opposite of a blooming flower. too often, you shy away from Johnny's touch, especially when Simon is present. as if you're afraid that he might bark at you, telling you to step away. or worse... but you can't exactly be faulted for that. Simon has drawn blood for far less and you seem to instinctually know it.

Johnny can't stand the fear in your eyes, even as much as you try to hide it. it's even worse when that fear stems from Simon's presence. although the knight's perception of you has changed, yours hasn't. it pains him because he wants the two of you to get along. maybe even grow to like each other.

Johnny heard his knight's voice from over the shoulder, "how is she?"

the furrow in your brow doesn't sit well with him. neither does the frown on your cut lip. you've curled up into a ball in your sleep, as if to protect yourself from a midnight attack.

"asleep." Johnny responds, caressing your shoulder. "finally..."

except, you don't look very peaceful. hopefully, the tea he gave you will take full effect and you won't wake up at the slightest of sounds.

"did you find the man who hurt her?" he looks to the knight, who had already taken off his mask.

it's strange how he'd do anything for you, much like he'd do for Si and he'd known you a lot longer. what a wicked little thing you are, weaselling your way into both of their hearts without even meaning to, without even wanting to.

and for all of your timid allure and strange intrigue, you're afraid of it. you don't seem to like the power you hold over them.

"i did." Simon quietly confirms. "he's been disposed of."

slowly, the knight takes off his armour, careful not to make too much noise in case you're startled awake by it. he's extra cautious when he climbs on the bed and takes a closer look at you, bare knuckles brushing over the bruise on your cheek.

"and i left Victoria a little gift. hopefully, she'll think twice before letting her dogs hurt our girl again."

for now, Johnny is satisfied with that. otherwise, there would've been a public hanging for all to see the consequences of touching you.

your eyes were dreary and far too heavy when you opened them. it occurs to you that you're not alone in bed this morning.

the king is at his desk, reading and signing some papers. he's surprisingly quiet with his work, mouthing a few words before looking at another piece of paper. he only wears a blue kilt and nothing else, his half-shaven hair a dishevelled mess, blue eyes bright and focused.

he's a work of art, a living masterpiece. you can understand why Ghost wants to keep him close and let no one else have him.

you only become aware of the knight when you try to rise from the bed. he was right behind you with his arm thrown over your waist, holding you close. and it seems you had woken him up with your faint rustling about.

"mornin', love." his chest rumbles at your back, prickling goosebumps on your flesh as his clothed mouth softly grazes the shell of your ear. "how do you feel?"

you're not oblivious to the hard swell pressing against your ass. from the distance, you catch king MacTavish's gaze shifting away from his work, most likely because he heard the voice of his beloved. almost instantly, he smiles and you're struck with a terrible guilt for allowing yourself to fall asleep in his chambers.

"better." you mumbled under your breath as you gently pry yourself from Ghost and sit on the edge of the bed, but he catches your wrist and pulled you back to his side.

you sat next to him whilst he was still lying down, his hands roaming your face. "let me have a look."

it was a bit awkward for you, to say the least. letting his tender hands hold your face so he can see your wounds. your stiff posture didn't bother him as he examined the bruise while his thumb gently touched the cut on your lip. you try not to look at him, eyes fixed on his chest instead.

what could possibly going through his mind, you have absolutely no idea. you are somewhat curious when he looks at you like that. like you're something to be treasured. if you were naive, you might believe it to be true.

the maids arrived no sooner than that and he lets you go, his hands stretching far and wide as they laid back on the pillows. they set out to prepare all three of you for the day, informing Ghost that a bath had been drawn for him in his chambers as per usual and another for the king and yourself. three maids carry trays of food into the chambers and place them one the bed.

"do you require anything else, your majesty?" one of the maids, Ann, asks as her sisters carry pitchers of water to pour into the tub in the next room.

the king, much to your surprise, looks to you.

"bonnie?" he calls out. "need anything?"

you have a feeling that you'll be here for a little while longer. and that would entail the usual strenuous activities so it is best to be prepared.

you glanced at Ann. "a cup of moon tea, please."

she smiled, knowing your intent behind that request. she bows before she and her sisters take their leave. Ghost grasps your chin and makes you look his way again.

"i spoke with Victoria last night." he says, caressing your jaw with lazy fingers. "what was in the letter?"

you tense at the inquiry. it really shouldn't make you nearly as nervous as it does, but you somehow know that telling him the contents of that letter would not bode well for you.

"nothing much." you reply. "just my aunt sending her regards." the silence on his end makes you want to hide under the covers. he just looks at you with eyes that hold so many words he won't say. "why?"

he shakes his head. "no reason."

they let you roam around the king's study, watched you run tentative fingers down the spine of each book shelved against the wall. they even let you read one of them. through their discussions of running the kingdom, which you're sure you're not meant to be part of, they let you walk freely.

something you've never been able to do in Madam Victoria or her clients' presence.

throughout the day, you're slightly less bothered by Ghost's presence, even as much as you're vividly aware of it at all times. mostly because the king didn't reach for you.

you wondered what Yolanda was up to, if she was doing well. hopefully, she is. last you heard from her was the day before, when she had to be at Lord Graves's disposal. you need to speak to her about the plan to leave this castle. according to Ghost, Victoria won't be bothering you anymore. which means one less obstacle. that will make things a lot easier.

when all three of you finally leave the study, you were prepared to go back to the harem and find Yolanda. but then you feel the looming presence standing right behind you, the knight's sharp-pointed gauntlet at the small of your back, steering you along with their steps until you were back in the king's chambers.

while the king rambles on about meeting with one of the Lords tomorrow, Ghost remains rooted at your side. or rather, right behind you.

your eyes follow the king's bustling form as he speaks. "ye know how Price is, Si. he hardly cares about formalities and rules. he might be the only one of those stuck-up Lords that can be reasoned with."

you don't think Ghost is listening to him. you feel the sharp fingers of his gauntlet digging through the fabric of your dress and it makes your skin burn hot.

he walks around you, eyes dipped low to the neckline of your dress, the sharp ends of his metal fingers trailing against your side. it doesn't hurt, not in the least bit. it only serves to send shivers down your spine and heat simmering at the apex of your thighs.

"Si?" Ghost had ignored the king's call and strode right to his original position behind you. "something botherin' ye?"

"quite the contrary." he pulls on the strings, undoing your corset. you gasp when he rips it off and tosses it on the floor. "just admiring the pretty little bird."

your cheeks blaze hotly when he pulls you flush on the planes of his armour, his claw spanning against your belly. you squeak when he dips his head into your neck, inhaling deeply. "think i'd like to ask her to sing for us."

"oh, yeah?" the king had sat at the edge of the bed, watching with keen interest.

Ghost hums and suddenly, he picks you up, chuckling when you squeal. your hands went around his shoulder, terrified that he might drop you. "let's see if she's worth all the chatter."

the king chuckles when he tosses you on the bed, much farther than what you think is what Ghost was intended. the knight's claw grips your ankle and he yanks you back to the edge while the king presses his hands on your shoulders and forces you to lie down.

"i don't chatter."

"yes, you do."

this time, the king is the one who pins down your hands. this time, it's Ghost who has a turn between your legs.

or, he's about to anyway. but with the glare he's giving his king, you don't think he'll take what he wants from you. you don't even think he wants you. what with how he's very adamant on keeping you out of the king's bed.

either way, his claw slides your dress up your thigh until it bunches at your hips as he spreads your thighs open.

"fuckin' hell..." he says, eyes fixated on your cunt. you can't restrain the urge to close your legs and cover yourself out of shame under the weight of his overwhelming gaze.

the cool touch of his metal gauntlets is all you feel as he sinches your thighs farther apart. you shouldn't be aroused by it, yet you are. he's killed hundreds of men with those claws. brought death to the lives of many. you still remember the blood stains from the night before, from when he came back from Madam Victoria.

and yet...

why do you like this so much?

"told ye she's a pretty sight." the king jibes lightly, smiling. "go on, Si. have a taste."

a taste? the thought startles you enough that a whine breaks free from your throat. the king kisses behind your ear, uttering soothing words, "shh... he'll be gentle, love, don't you worry."

your breaths come a little shallower as you watch Ghost. your eyes widen when he reaches for his mask and pulls it past his mouth and just over the crooked curve of his nose. he slinks further down until he's at the foot of the bed.

his knees drop to the floor and he pulls your legs over the skull-shaped pauldrons of his dark armour. it occurs to you that his face has never been this close to your cunt and it's so jarring to think about. you flinched at the devilish nip of his teeth.

"easy, bonnie." the king chides softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "he's just foolin' around. doesn't get to do that very often."

"i beg to differ." Ghost opposes lightly before he licks hotly through your folds, humming softly at the taste of you.

your hadn't expected the sudden sensation, your hips jerking away from his tongue as you choked back a moan. his arms curl over your thighs and hold you still as he seals his mouth over your bud. the king grins widely when you couldn't hold back a strained mewl while Ghost works his tongue over your cunt, his claws digging gentle indents on the skin of your thighs.

"there ya go, love." he cooed, excitement dancing all over the blues of his eyes. "tell him how it feels when he licks yer cunt."

if the king was sloppy and playful when he had his mouth on your cunt, Ghost is... he's determined to taking his sweet time devouring you. you're helpless to the way Ghost lavishes your sensitive flesh.

you never thought he could shift his passion from murder to something more... sensual.

your slick flows easier now with the swirl of his tongue, the adoration he pours into you, drawing something like a rising tide from deep within, building and climbing higher and higher. the noise you make is something akin to a wounded prey, weak and pliant to his torment while being eaten alive. your legs part wider on their own, bending to his will, giving into what feels like your demise.

"g—good." your stuttered response satisfies the king. "f—feels good, sir."

to your chagrin, Ghost stops.

your bleary eyes look down as he shifts between your legs, lifting his head from your fluttering cunt. the desire slowly crumbles with every passing second you watch his tongue dart out to lick the shine on his lips.

"call me Simon." he tells you.

and you almost do. you almost do. but you remember Madam Victoria's rules. it's not within your jurisdiction. these two men are way above your station, it is not a right you're entitled to. hence why you were so adamant on referring to them by their ranks, not with their names, no matter how much they told you to.

"i can't." you whisper.

"why not?" the king asks, eyes furrowed as the turmoil twists his features.

"it's improper—" you start but his expression shifts into something darker. oh, no. you think you've upset him.

you try to pull your hands from his grasp, but he doesn't let you. nor does Ghost when you attempt to close your legs.

"we want you to call us by our names." Ghost said, claws pulling your legs back over his shoulders.

you shake your head, eyes shutting tightly when his tongue flits over your cunt like velvet. a wrecked moan escapes you as he continues tracing wicked strokes through your folds, completely unbothered by your squirming. "your m—ajesty, i can't— it's not... it's not—"

your gasp cuts your words short when he slips his tongue inside you. he pulls it out and sinks back in. he does it again and again, starting a steady rhythm. your resolve is burning and melting away. he licks through it with a never-ending patience, drawing you nearer and nearer to the edge.

"call him by his name, bonnie." he softly urges, eyes flickering over yours. "or he stops."

your mournful expression does not phase him in the least. he leans in for a tender kiss and it is strangely not dissimilar to the way Ghost mouths over your pussy.

"go on, bonnie." the king mouths the words over your cheek, the soft encouragement weakening you further. his mouth trails down your jaw, even as you turn your head away in a silent protest. "it's alright. s'just us three."

you can't. you've been taught not to. it's not right.

you're not worthy enough, Victoria's voice lilts back to you. it is forbidden.

but Victoria's not here, is she? Victoria doesn't know how good it feels to have the harbinger of death on his knees for you, does she? she hasn't felt the devotion of a king, has she?

doesn't that mean something?

your distressed noise is heard when you feel his pattern become slower and slower.

"please, don't stop—" that's when you crack, the whisper falling from your lips. "Simon..."

your skin prickles hotly as soon as you utter the name out loud. Ghost settles for pressing light kisses on your swollen bud, dark eyes watching you.

"what was that?" the king asks, the lilt in his voice causing you to be more timid. "i don't think he heard ye, bonnie. speak up."

Ghost hums into your cunt, his tongue flicking over your opening, gently dipping inside. your cry is sharp, pleading, "please, Simon!"

it's obscene the way he kicks up his tempo, his tongue licking more intently now. your shaky sigh doesn't go unnoticed as the knight, slides a hand under your hips and lifts you into his mouth, drawing out the wicked pleasure with more purpose. you plead for more, uttering his name in soft cries, begging him not to stop.

"tha's more like it." you feel the king's lips upon your as he mutters happily, "such good girl for us, bonnie."

he feeds you little praises, nestling them in your heart against your will. you can't help it, you can't help the warmth blooming in your chest, the tears prickling in your eyes. their affection breaks the high walls you've been hiding behind all this time, slipping through the cracks and thawing the ice in your veins.

you don't understand. this is not what Victoria had taught you. this is not what your extended time in the harem had taught you. no man is this considerate, this attentive. no man treats a woman like she's... like she's special, not without gaining something in return. it makes no sense.

there's something you're missing here. something that isn't privy to you.

the lewd sounds of Ghost— of Simon's mouth devouring you rise and fill your burning ears. he eats, not like a starved predator, but one that savours its meal.

he's been waiting to do this, the thought whispers to you as you try to close your legs, embarrassed by it. the metal claws hold fast, not allowing you to do so, prying you open for him to feast upon with a growl. the sinful haze pools over your cunt, rolling your eyes back when you begin to throb.

the king shifts, opting to hold your wrists with just one hand while the other pulls down the bodice of your dress, baring your breasts for him to see.

"will ye call me by my name too, bonnie?" he fondles with your left nipple, his thumb flicking over it as he leans in to whisper in your ear, nipping your lobe. "go on, lovie. no one's gonna know."

he sinks his head lower down your neck, mouthing kisses over your warm skin down to the valley of your breasts. he takes his time nipping your breasts, lavishing each of them with his attention. the tide rises higher now and you can feel the wave building up to destroy anything in its path.

"Johnny..." your moan jolts him. you feel it with when he's got your breast in his mouth, you feel the way Simon groans into your pussy, the low sound vibrating into your soul.

"fuck..." the king gripes harshly. "i've dreamt of that sound for weeks." you whimper, unsure if it's because of his words or because of the way Simon smiles against your slick folds. "are ye close, love?"

you nod vigorously, burning hotly with each flick of the tongue. you're teetering dangerously close to the edge. your whine cuts through the air as you try to move your hips towards Simon's tongue, but he won't let you. he holds you still and he wants you to take it.

"give it to him, bonnie." he coaxes. your back arches, the pleasure throbbing deliciously where you want it the most as your breaths come in sharp pants. "cum for him."

you don't think you could've denied it if you tried.

you burst with a sharp cry falling from your lips, eyes rolling so far back, you began to see stars. you're powerless to the rapture of ecstasy flooding your veins, the weight of your bones trembling with the force of it when you crash. your spine bows and bends as more sounds spill from your mouth.

it's explosive. it's the kind of sin that sentences a soul to eternal damnation. Simon curls your legs against your chest, now devouring you like the prey that you are, growling as your essence flows into his mouth. you weep as he laps at you, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit with vicious intent to prolong your pleasure.

it's not like the way Johnny does it to you. but it's just as starved, just as depraved.

when he tears his mouth away, you're left sobbing and gasping for air. your eyes are closed, your head lolling back against the pillow.

"ye gonna indulge, Si?" you heard the king ask.

the bed shifts and a quiet settles for a brief moment. "not tonight. she's not ready for me yet."

you feel them shift around you until a pair of warm, bare hands settle on your knees and part them. your eyes flutter open as you're still panting.

Johnny pulls your thighs over his, his cock in display as it drags through your wet folds, a shiver racks through your body.

"bonnie..." he coos, "so sweet for us, aren't ya?"

Simon bends a knee where the king was previously positioned. he pulls his pants down, cock springing free. your mouth waters at the sight, mind hazy and numb from the pleasure.

you don't think twice before letting him guide his shaft in your mouth. you moan softly as the king traces your clit with his thumb whilst he slips his cock inside of your fluttering pussy. he rocks his hips softly, filling you up in ways that numb your muzzled thoughts, groaning something about how wet you are, how pretty you are all spread open for them.

you feel something sharp sliding across your cheek and you belatedly realize that it's Simon's claw, gently grazing your bruised skin. he's cautious enough not to prick you, careful not to hurt you with his hands. the thought makes you moan around his cock, sucking him deeper into your mouth.

Simon's thrusts quickly turn sloppy and a little hurried and it's not long before he cums in your mouth. Johnny groans at the sight as he falls into the abyss right after, spilling his hot cum inside your cunt.

you thought that was the end of it. but before you can let the slumber claim you, your soft mewl echoes through the chambers when the knight returns between your legs, prying them apart to lick Johnny's spend from your swollen pussy. the king himself kisses you deeply, moaning at the taste of his lover in your mouth.

they're both gentle with you. careful not to push you too hard with their own desires. they coax you into falling off the edge again until it makes your chest ache. makes you wish it could you could stay here forever.

if only things were that simple.

it's been nearly a day and you still have yet to return to the harem. surely, the king and his knight must be sick of you now. you've spent more than enough time in their presence.

"you should already be asleep, Johnny." both of them have their backs turned to you as they stood at the king's desk. "we've got an early morning."

your legs slide over the edge of the bed and you get to putting back the creased garments of your dress with only one singular objective; getting out of the king's chambers. you've never been away from the harem for this long and it worries you.

you're tying the laces of your corset, wallowing it to be loose enough so you can slip it on and tighten it. you begin looking for your shoes.

"i ken..." Johnny says as he glances to the side. there's movement at his peripheral, which catches his attention and he sees you already half-dressed and fixing your hair, which brings about his frown. "where are ye goin', bonnie?"

your startled gaze meets his whilst slipping one shoe on. "your majesty, i must return—"

"Johnny." he cuts off your statement as he walks over to you. "thought i asked ye to call me that instead."

you were begging for a release then. this is different. this is... this is not you crying out in the throws of pleasure. this is polite conversation.

but he insists. he has insisted since the day you've met him.

"Johnny." the castle doesn't come crumbling like you feared it would when your mouth speaks the name out loud. "i must return to the harem. i've been away for too long."

you take a step back when he tries to reach for you, but it's Ghost's hand that grasps yours, dragging you closer to them. you tense at the touch of the king's hand on your hip, pulling you so he could be behind you and his knight in front.

"why are you running, love?" Ghost gently cups your cheek, dark eyes softly scrutinitsing your discomfort as the king presses his mouth on your neck. "what are you so afraid of?"

you, mostly. both of them.

"you can tell us anything, sweet girl." his thumb trails over your cheekbone. "you can trust us."

one of the lessons Madam Victoria had beaten into you was to never overstay your welcome. as much as she's been cruel to you, she's never lied to you. always told you the truth, no matter how harsh.

men are fickle creatures. predators, mostly. but fickle. once they're bored of their prey and all of their pretty little toys, it's only a matter of time before they toss them away. for that, their intentions can never be trusted. not for anything.

and you know she was right about that.

in spite of all the pain she's put you through, you've come to appreciate her honesty. you'd be right to implement her lessons as you've always done before.

"i am not needed here." you shyly stated, though they now looked confused at your sentiment. "you said so yourself. you both have to rise early tomorrow. and i need to see my friend."

you don't like the way Simon's eyes narrow slightly. his gaze shrinks your resolve.

"bonnie, no one said yer not needed." the king expressed, his arms circling around you when you begin to squirm, mouthing kisses on your neck. "in fact, it never even crossed our minds."

you try as much as you can not to melt right back into his arms, but this time, it's Simon who steps forward, taking your hand in his.

"please stay." he pleads. "for one more day."

though it sounds like he's asking for an eternity.

god, you want to. you want to stay. but you've been stuck in this golden cage for far too long, you just want to breathe. your thoughts briefly flicker to Yolanda, how she's also relying on you for escaping this hell but Johnny's hands pull at your skirts and slip under them as he nips your ear, fingers tracing your folds again, numbing your concerns, your fears. "looks like she needs a little more convincing."

the knight did not disagree with that sentiment.

your soft sighs fill the midnight air as you tremble and fall into ecstasy again and again and again. for a moment, you forget everything.

dearest niece...

the death of my husband was more of a blessing than a curse. although i do miss his presence from time to time, i find myself with more liberties than ever.

the house is quiet with his absence and that of my two sons. when you had expressed your thoughts of leaving the castle, it had got me thinking. perhaps you might both find a place here. perhaps you and your friend leave that awful place and come to join me. with your knowledge, you'll both make a fine pair of governesses.

please consider my offer, it is quite lonely in this house.

signed, your favourite aunt,

Marie.

Simon reads the letter over and over again and felt his jaw clench.

this is what had gotten you slapped in the face. this is what warranted Victoria's vicious rage.

your giggle cuts through the air, pulling his attention away from the dark realisation. Johnny looms over you, fingers glazing over your sides and revelling in your laughter, his own pairing yours in the night.

the sound stabs through his chest like a hot blade and twists something long since forgotten by the sands of time. he's never heard anything so beautiful. you and Johnny. two pieces of his heart.

his eyes shift to the letter once more.

for the most part, Simon had hoped that Victoria was lying about you wanting to leave. he had hoped that it was just a jab to mess with his head.

"go on, ask him." he heard Johnny whisper. Simon resists the urge to acknowledge both of you just yet, the ache in his chest taking more precedence.

—she's planning to leave.

you want to leave. you had said so yourself in letters he didn't have the chance to intercept because he didn't think the possibility was even a thought in your pretty little head.

"Simon?" it's your voice that draws his eyes away from the piece of paper. you're seated over Johnny's lap, both of you naked and caressing each other's skin.

Simon stares, more wide-eyed at the fact that you called him by his name without being coaxed to. it's a nice change, one that he'd like to get used to, if you'd let him. if you don't leave—

"care to join us?" you asked.

but can he let you go?

the shy curiosity in your eyes gnaws at him, calls to the darkness within. it was the first time you looked at him without apprehension.

no, he doesn't think he can.

he can't lose that. he won't. not if he can help it.

"'course, love." he folds the letter in his hands and hides it under the pile of documents on Johnny's desk. for a long time, he had considered burning it instead, but he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet. not until there's a clear plan of action.

he stands and walks to the bed you all share. he pressed his lips on your forehead, relishing the way you melt against him.

it'll be a cold day in hell before he lets you slip through his fingers.

[part 8] well... that was an interesting turn. offer a coin to the picklejar

#ghoap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap x reader

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