#cod mw3 imagine

[band--psycho]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader - The Funeral

This is my first story for Simon Riley!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Warnings - MW3 spoilers (Don't read unless you want the game spoiled for you), violence, mentions of death, funerals, swearing

“What’s he doin’ here?” Price snarled, his eyes narrowing in Graves’ direction, as the smoke from his cigar left his lips. 

“He shouldn’t be ‘ere,” Ghost stated coldly; his eyes also fixed on Graves. 

“No he shouldn’t,” Y/n agreed, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of her boyfriend's gloved hand in an attempt to sooth him.

They were right; he shouldn’t be here. He had no right, not after everything that happened between Soap and Graves. 

But here he was.  

“But he is,” she continued; squeezing Ghosts hand, pulling his gaze away from Graves to her, his eyes softening almost instantly as he took in a deep breath. 

She knew that Ghost and the rest of the 141 team wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of Graves.

She wanted that too. She’d give anything to wipe that smug smirk off of his face. 

But she knew she couldn’t, not here. 

None of them could do anything.

Even though Soap was probably cursing them from the afterlife for not doing so. 

“Just ignore him,” Gaz said; noticing the rage building in his friend's eyes.  

“He best keep his distance,” Price replied simply; before heading into the crematorium, followed by Gaz, Y/n and Ghost. 

~~~~

The service was hard, beautiful but hard. When it ended Gaz went with Price to get the car, while Y/n stood outside and waited for Ghost who was still inside saying his final goodbye to Soap.

She knew how close they were.

Even though Ghost would never admit it; Soap was his friend.  His best friend.

As she stood outside, memories of Soap flashed through her mind; reopening the wound of grief all over again, that was until an unwanted voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/n, I just wanted to give my condolences to you and the rest of the 141 team,” Graves said, his voice filled with as little sincerity as possible. 

He could act like he cared all he wanted; but everyone at that funeral knew it was a damn lie. Just like when he denied carrying out Shepherd’s orders. 

It was all bullshit. 

But Y/n knew she just had to remain calm and civil. 

Ghost would be outside soon; Price and Gaz would pull up in the car and then they could go and give a toast to their fallen friend. 

“I’ll be sure to pass the message on,” Y/n answered as bluntly as she could, with a small fake smile. 

Like hell she would; but she was hoping that that would be enough to get him to leave her alone. 

To her dismay, it didn’t. 

Graves just hovered around her like a vulture. 

“Why the long face sweetheart?” 

“Why would I be smiling?” Y/n snapped back, the rage clear in her voice. 

“I’m sure Soap wouldn’t want you to be sad,” 

That sentence was enough to tip Y/n over the edge she’d been teetering on since she saw him.

Graves was talking about Soap like he knew him; but he didn’t. 

He didn’t know anything. 

And that's why she punched him. 

Again and again, until Graves was on the floor.

The only reason she stopped was because a pair of familiar gloves hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her off of Graves.

“You don’t know shit about what Soap would want!” Y/n venomously spat, as Ghost placed Y/n behind him. 

“Car. Now.” Ghost ordered lowly in Y/n's ear, pointing at the car that had just pulled up outside. He wasn’t mad at her. 

If anything he was worried. He’d known Y/n for so long and he’d never seen her snap like that; she was always so calm and composed, which just made him want to punch the shit out of Graves; but he didn’t. 

He just took a deep breath and said, “shame about your fall,” before walking to the car. 

“All good?” Gaz asked, turning in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking between Y/n and Ghost with a questioning look.

“Yeah,” Ghost said, his attention solely on Y/n, who hadn’t said a single word since she’d gotten in the car. 

Gently, he reached over to her, taking her hands in his, assessing the small bloody cuts that were on her knuckles.

“Love-”

“I’m fine,” Y/n whispered, interrupting Ghosts words and refusing to meet his gaze, knowing that if she did, all the emotions she’d been keeping in, were going to spill out. 

“Nothings broken,” Ghost assured her, placing her hands back in her lap before he began stroking the back of her neck. 

It was a soothing technique he knew helped Y/n when she was stressed or upset. 

Almost instantly he noticed how her body relaxed and leaned into his touch. 

He could see in her eyes that she was trying to be strong, just like she had been for the last few weeks and he wasn’t about to question her about what happened. 

That could wait. 

He just wanted her to be okay. 

He knew little things like rubbing the back of her neck would help her, so that’s what he was going to continue to do, until she was ready to talk about it. 

“What happened?” Price questioned, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. 

“I punched Graves,” Y/n admitted; patiently awaiting the lecture she expected from her Captain. 

What she did wasn’t just out of character it ask was just something that she shouldn’t have done; she knew that, and as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't regret it at all.

Price's eyes glanced up at the rear view mirror, his eyes meeting Y/ns, with a small smirk on his face, “Good.”

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future stories involving Ghost -or any other 141 members)

[slater-baby]

Simon Riley x f!Reader

Simon’s the type of guy to have your contact name in his phone as just “wife” — like an actual caveman.

No emojis, no capitals, no nothing. Just “wife.”

The first time the 141 happen to see it, they nearly laugh themselves into a stupor. It’s quite the image, imagining skull-faced Simon Riley plodding around the house, snarling the words “woman” and “wife” with all the testosterone and wolfish pride of some brutish working man.

But to Simon, it’s much simpler than that.

“Self-explanatory,” he’d explain, offended that they’d think of him so lowly, “She’s my wife. Mine. Ain’t nobody else’s. Anybody who’s got a problem wit’ me callin’ her the title I gave her can right well piss off.”

Though, that’s not to say the 141 are exactly wrong. In fact, you kind of like how pushy and red-blooded Simon can get sometimes…especially in between the sheets.

“C’mon, girl,” he grunts, slapping the fat of your ass hard enough to leave a red hand print on your skin, “Want me to be yours? Want this cock to be yours, huh?”

“Yes,” you mewl, grabbing bruising handfuls of the sheets.

“Then fucking prove it to me,” He growls, “C’mon, make yourself cum on my cock—fuckin�� prove that I’m yours,” he yanks you up with a hand in your hair, a snarl between his lips, “Faster, love, c’mon—I ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”

[bejeweledblondie]

When I tell you I was pissing my pants laughing at this.

“This wallpaper is so cute, we could live here” ME IN A NUTSHELL I have ADHD (I’m medicated for it) but when I’m off it this is me 😭

[leafavleo]

GHOST who always struggled to show you affection whenever he wore his mask, the one that only uncovered his warm, brown eyes. Holding your hand or saying things wasn’t enough, but pulling down his mask all the way down to his chin was also unpractical.

That’s when he thought of it — nose kisses.

He doesn’t have to worry about his identity being discovered in public when he only pulls his mask down to his nose, so he can gently rub it against yours, making you giggle every single time.

Not only that become a way of showing off his affection in public, somehow it also started to become a habit to do it every single time. Even when his lips are on display and it is so easy to just kiss him properly, you always go first to softly rub your nose against his. Now every time he goes to work, you have to rub the tips of your noses gently together, it also became a great way of waking you up in the morning without straddling you with his harsh mouth kisses.

That became almost a label of your relationship, of the way that it is easy to be gentle in love.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine looking for your husband and walking through the house for 5 minutes straight without finding a trace of him. not in the bedroom, not in the bathroom, not on the couch, he's not even in the kitchen or in the garden. opening the door full of stickers to your little girl's room, you see her at the small pink table with an even smaller tea set. once you fully open the door, you see him. simon riley. playing tea time with your daughter. you can't help yourself but chuckle when you take in how he looks. colorful ribbons in his hair, a small tutu stretching around his waist and a pink cup filled with imaginary tea in his large hand. -and is that nail polish on his fingers?

'part 2'

[writing-jellyfish]

Salivating at the thought of being used for breeding by Ghost

Staying tied up to the bed shibari style as Ghost just abuses your sweet hole. You can do nothing and only lay there and take it. The man is filthy with it too, keeping a vibrating wand tied into the rope on your thigh so it would press against your swollen clit as he pounds into you.

When he's tired, he let's it continue to vibrate. Ghost doesn't let him cum go to waste so he shoves a toy a little bigger than him to keep you plugged. We have to make sure you get pregnant so he has more to grab onto and your tits swell with milk. He drools all over your breasts and fucks himself stupid like a mad man when you eventually do get pregnant and start to show.

[yawnderu]

There's only 3 people Simon follows on social media. Gaz, Soap... and a pornstar he's been obsessed with for months.

He loves coming back from missions and seeing you promoting your new content on Twitter, always getting fucked by a different person— never the same man or woman twice.

He'd be lying if he said he doesn't think he can fuck you better than the men jackhammering into you without care, or the women who keep staring at the camera rather than focusing on your lovely body. He could do it so much better, stuffing your pretty cunt full of eight inches of thick, veiny meat.

Warm water runs down his body as he rubs his throbbing cock, calloused hands toying with the angry, red tip before he smears it all over his shaft, almost cumming at the wet sound that rings around the shower when he jerks off again.

His leaking precum sticks to his hand, begging him to keep going while he scrolls down your Twitter. Half-lidded brown eyes struggle to stay open when he sees a new photo of you, groaning at the way your bright smile overpowers the thick cum smeared all over your lovely tits, looking so proud of finishing another man off and getting marked.

His boner is almost painful at this point. He's sure his arm is going to get a cramp after this, but he's too far gone to care.

Simon's fantasies run wild as he keeps scrolling and liking your new content. He's barely lucid enough to register the newest video, looking at the skimpy clothing you're wearing being ripped off by an older man, cock thrusting into you wildly, almost punishingly. There's nothing more lovely than your expression when you get penetrated, wide eyes looking at the camera and pretty lips turned into an "o" shape before you smile, clearly enjoying every single inch of meat stuffed into your needy cunt.

“Fuck.” His hand works faster down his shaft, the familiar tight feeling in his heavy balls returning while he lets out a low moan. A tidal wave of euphoria hits him when his half-lidded brown eyes return to the video, muscles flexing and tensing up as he releases thick ropes of cum onto the floor, letting the water wash it away.

His hips buck uncontrollably as he squeezes the last drops of thick cum out of his cock with a couple of low groans, hand finally slowing down.

His muscles finally relax, chest rising up and down while he tries to recover from the intense orgasm. He can't help but look at the ropes of release being washed away, secretly hoping they were in you instead.

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he immediately looks at it with a raised eyebrow, breath catching in his throat when he reads the notification announcing that you follow him back.

Part II | Part III

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[sweetnothingtm]

inspired by this video ♡

thinking about biker!simon who meets you one night when your car breaks down on the side of the highway, and you can’t manage to get a tow truck out so late at night - so of course he offers you a ride.

he’d pull up beside you and immediately notice the way you’re pouting and huffing in frustration, whining over the phone about how you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere - and how you can’t afford to call a cab, so surely a gentleman should help a poor girl out. and then simon is sitting on his bike with his arms lazily crossed in front of him leaned forward, killing the engine as he asked you what was wrong.

biker!simon would slip off his gloves and lean over the hood of your car as you meekly explained how you really should have changed your oil sooner - and that you really hate to be such a bother, but could you get a ride home?

he’d tell you that a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t even have to worry about something like this, that he could take you home and make sure you’re all safe and sound - and you think maybe he’s hitting on you, but you’re so shy and maybe he’s just being courteous. strangers normally offer to teach you how to change your oil and that next time they’ll make sure to bring an extra helmet - right?

biker!simon would pat the seat behind him and mumble something along the lines of how he usually rides fast, so you’ll have to hold on tight. biker!simon would offer you his jacket and zip it up for you, practically groaning at the way you bite your lip and avoid his gaze - but that damn helmet is so daunting, and how are you supposed to focus when he smells like pine and tobacco?

you would anxiously say that you’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, how it’s just too intimidating - plus you’ve never met anyone who owned a bike. biker!simon would be smirking under his helmet and humming in satisfaction when your arms tighten around his waist as he weaves between lanes.

biker!simon would hold your thigh the entire ride home - and is it just you or is he gently squeezing your leg while talking about how you’re being such a good girl and that for your first time riding, you’re doing so well?

and when he drops you off at home, biker!simon has his hand rubbing up and down your thigh as his bike idles in your parking lot. he would talk about how he’s so glad to have helped out, and how he’d love to pay for the tow truck - it’s the least he can do when you’ve been such a princess.

even though you insist that it’s just too much, and how you really shouldn’t be accepting such gifts from strangers - he’s done more than enough, and is there anything you can do to make it up to him? but then biker!simon is dismissing your concerns with the wave of a hand, telling you that he’s more than happy to help a doll like you.

biker!simon says something about how you don’t need to be strangers, that you’re just such a sweetheart, and how he’d love to take you out sometime soon. you’d smile sweetly to him and feign consideration for his offer - despite the fact you’ve already made up your mind when you were trying to memorize his tattoos and the way that he’d glance over his shoulder to check on you throughout the drive.

he’d help you off his bike and walk you to your apartment because he wouldn’t want you to get into any more trouble tonight, right? when you shamelessly type your number into his phone, biker!simon is pulling off his helmet to reveal a balaclava that hides nearly everything except two dark eyes and the cocky smirk plastered across his lips. and you’re mesmerized by the way he lowers his voice and leans down to speak to you, one hand gripping his helmet as the other sits on your lower back the whole walk to your apartment.

the next day he’s leaning against his bike outside your building, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as you shyly rock on your feet and stutter over a thousand thank-you’s - and he’s so focused on the way you rub your thighs together and bite your lip that he almost misses when you say that you really can’t thank him enough for everything, and that you really do plan to make it up to him.

[slater-baby]

Price who was a teen father, single dad who worked hard his whole career to provide for his daughter.

Price, who's finally satisfied with all that he's achieved, retiring from the military in his late 40s.

Price, who has little more to do than sit at home and watch TV these days, is ECSTATIC when his daughter tells him she wants to introduce him to her long term boyfriend.

“He’s great, dad, you’ll see!” She promises him over the phone, “And he’s in the military, too! You’ll probably be fast friends.”

Price, who doesn’t doubt it for a second.

Price, who spends hours barbecuing a rack of ribs, looking forward to meeting the man who might one day kiss his daughter at the alter.

Price, who opens the front door…

…only to reveal Simon Riley’s grisly scarred face, his meaty hand cupped inside of his daughter’s manicured grasp.

“Dad!” She squeals, throwing her arms over his shoulder in a big hug.

Price, who glares at Simon with sheer viciousness while he hugs his little girl, mind flashing with all the horrible things he might have done to her.

Corrupting her. Touching her. Deflowering her.

Price, who nearly snarls just at the sight of his once-second-in-command merely standing next to his sweet princess.

Simon, however…

Well, he only musters a crooked, knowing smile before extending his hand.

“‘ello, dad,” he growls, slipping his arm right around her waist the minute she shuffles back.

-

Price, who slowly comes to terms with the fact that his best friend won't be his best friend for much longer.

No, when Simon has it his way, he'll be Price's son-in-law.

All's well that end's well, Simon figures, I'll make it up to the old man one day.

-

Price, who finds a box of luxury cigars at his hotel room the day of your wedding. There's a note attached to it.

Can't be mad at me now, can you? I am your son-in-law, after all, it reads.

Price crumples it up and throws it in the trash right after.

Who was he kidding? There was no one he'd trust more with his little girl than Simon. Though, he could've done without the fanfare when he handed you over to the bastard at the alter.

"She mine now, old man?" Simon sneers, pulling you out of your father's arms.

"Careful, Riley," he scoffs with a smile, "You're lucky I hung up the rifle before I knew you were dating my daughter...might've thought twice about it."

"You should've."

Even though Price cried with joy when you were finally pronounced husband and wife, he really doesn't want to know what Simon meant by that last comment.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! Who refuses to sleep alone once you got together, once he began to trust you

Simon Riley! Who takes it as a person attack when you push him away in the middle of the night during a heatwave

Simon Riley! Who picks up your little baby when they come toddling in on their routine break in around two and puts them back to bed because night time is mommy and daddy time

Simon Riley! Who who sleepily follows you when you wake up in the middle of the night

Simon Riley! Who will purposefully turn the AC down to 62 F just because it’ll mean you’ll snuggle into him

Simon Riley! Who would rather starve then let you crawl out of bed to make breakfast, A: because it’s snuggle time

Simon Riley! Who collapses on the bed after a long day out and drags out onto the bed with him

Simon Riley! Who, after a his entire life, loves night time because it meant he got to be with you <3

[starsofang]

simon riley x deaf!reader

tw: none, literally just pure fluff

“It’s just one date. I promise.”

You didn’t know how your friend had convinced you to go on a blind double date in the first place. In fact, you weren’t even the first choice, but when your friend came by to ask you to fill in for another girl who had bailed out last minute, you pity-agreed to help her out.

You weren’t sure if you were making the right choice. Dating wasn’t your thing, and you avoided it like it was the scum of the earth. Not to say you had bad experiences, per se, but you also didn’t have the best choice of men. None of them understood your situation to its fullest, but that was okay! You didn’t need their validation, and you were perfectly content with the way things were.

There was no harm in going on a fun date and having a few drinks and good food, you thought. One night, and you’d never have to see your blind date again.

Besides, your friend seemed to really be into her date from the way she’d gush about him after they met online (not your favorite choice, but you’d support her anyway), and you didn’t want to ruin that for her.

That’s what led you to be here, shoulder to shoulder with your friend as she rambled on about how excited she was with speedy hand gestures, how grateful she was that you came, that she’ll make sure your dinner and drinks are paid for. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you were going, but judging from what she forced you to wear, it had to be a bit fancy and lavish.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that was also not your favorite choice.

She guided you inside of the building, which was a preview of what was to come — high ceilings, ravishing decor, and low lighting that made everything much more romantic. You took in the fluorescent scenery as she spoke with the hostess. You didn’t know what they were saying, but as the waitress gestured with a hand for the two of you to follow, you assumed the two men were already there.

Your arm was looped loosely with your friend’s as the two of you walked after the hostess. When you approached a table, you took in the sight of one man that looked familiar — your friend’s date, a man with smooth, tanned skin and a smile that could cure sickness. The other man was new to you, and compared to your friend’s date — Kyle? — he was much more phlegmatic.

Kyle gave a polite nod towards you with a blinding smile, and you have one back, bowing your head in greeting. You sat next to your friend, watching as Kyle pulled out the chair for her, to which your date definitely didn’t do the same.

That was alright. You weren’t planning on making it past the first date anyway.

Your friend began to chatter with Kyle while you and your mystery date sat in silence. Your hands remained in your lap as your eyes scanned the menu that sat on the table.

Focused on appearing as busy as possible, you were unfortunately snapped out of it before it could last long when your friend nudged your shoulder with hers. When you looked up at her, she was smiling, and she lifted her hand to signal the man in front of you.

Blinking at him, you realized he was possibly trying to talk to you, and you shifted awkwardly. He probably thought you were rude.

“Sorry, Simon. I forgot to mention she’s deaf, so she didn’t know you were introducing yourself,” your friend apologized, and you watched as he stared at her before nodding in acknowledgment. “It won’t change anything, yeah?”

You sat in tense silence as you averted your eyes back to the menu. Your date had eyes that could pierce right through you if they wanted to, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to be their next victim, date or not.

A phone screen was slid across the table from where you were studying the menu, and your eyes flickered to see a string of words typed out in the notes app.

“Sorry if that came off as rude. I’m Simon.”

Glancing up at him, you flashed him a smile that was relieved. He gave you an awkward one back, and you thought maybe he didn’t do it much.

You picked up his phone from where it sat in front of you and began typing out your response before slipping it back to him. You watched as he read it, a look of amusement in his eyes as he did so.

“Not rude at all. Sorry she didn’t tell you. You can back out if you’d like, I won’t take offense.”

Kyle and your friend were conversed in conversation with one another while Simon and you had your own back and forth.

“Why would I do that?” his next note read, and you tilted your head at him. He offered you a shrug, and your fingers tapped along his screen in return.

“Most men wouldn’t like being blindsided by not knowing their date is deaf.”

You saw his mouth part open when he read it, and you wondered if he was chuckling to himself. You wished you could hear it.

Was it deep? What if it was one of those contagious laughs that sounded like the literal gates of heaven opening up, and you wouldn’t ever have the chance of hearing it?

You didn’t have time to think about it when he placed the phone back in front of you, and when you glanced down, you couldn’t help but smile bashfully to yourself.

“A pretty girl’s a pretty girl. I’d be an idiot for backing out on the prettiest one I’ve had the gall to see over something like that.”

Fuck.

You weren’t supposed to like your date, much less so quickly. You only came for the food and for the sake of your friend’s happiness, but here you were, cheesing to yourself like a stupid teenager with a new crush.

But as the date continued, with the both of you eating alongside Kyle and your friend, shamelessly passing his phone back and forth and filling his notes app with evidence of your growing infatuation, you knew it wasn’t only for the food anymore.

He was sweet. Sure, it was all on paper (well, screen), and you told yourself to always be cautious with men.

But when he asked you out on a second date, then a third, you allowed your concrete walls to crumble.

And when he showed you the new signs he’d been working on so he could communicate with you on the fourth date, spelling out your name with cautious, slow fingers, eyes searching for your approval? You could’ve already married him then and there.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine waking up to a mouth-watering smell. turning around and slowly standing to your feet, you made your bed and walked out of the bedroom, one of your hands stroking over your big round belly, feeling your little girl kick. you follow the scent, finding the source in the kitchen, along with an absolutely adorable and heart-warming sight. your husband, through and through a girl-dad, standing in front of the stove, one hand holding up his young girl to his hip while the other hand was busy making breakfast. and oh how good it smelled. once he noticed you, probably by hearing your pregnant self waddling through the house, simon riley turned around, a smile spreading on his face as he laid his eyes on you, his beautiful and pregnant wife. pregnant with his second little girl. he never wanted to have kids, but with you he couldn't stop the need to have little versions of you and himself running through the house, it made him feel so much love.

[madsfrank]

Imagine wearing hair bows around Simon…

When you first start wearing bows around Simon he’s starts absolutely melting. You can see it in his eyes.

You’ll get in his car and flash him a smile, as he sits there, dumbfounded.

“You look nice….” He’ll state, basically staring you down with his lips parted. Oh, what he’s thinking…..

How he wants to ravage you.

You’ll fold your legs as he clears his throat. Wanting to take you out, show you off, make everyone know that your all his.

His hand on your hip, heavy and strong, keeping you almost flush against his side. His girl, his woman.

You better believe your sitting between his thighs around your friends. He’s all yours.

He even buys you bows to match his shirts, buys you a skull one too, that one he nearly ripped off while making out with you. He couldn’t help it, that made him want you.

Yeah, if you couldn’t tell, he loves those bows on you.

౨ৎ-Masterlist

[sinkovia]

Nsfw, smut, 18+

Knight Simon x Princess Fem!Reader

Deep grunts escape from Simon's throat as he fucks you in your chambers, your moans muffled as he presses his hand over your mouth. The last thing Simon needed was for one of your handmaidens to catch you letting the kingdom's most barbaric knight fuck you in secret.

“Can't have anyone catching us princess.” Your eyes rolled back in your head as he continued to abuse your soft gummy cervix.

Simon had denied you at first, he didn't want to be the one to take the innocence and purity of the kingdom's princess and he wasn’t looking for a death wish if you got caught. But the more time he spent with you after your father knighted him as your sworn protector, the more he started to feel for you.

The more he would buck his thick veiny cock into his calloused hand as he thought of you. The image of you being buried deep with his throbbing cock, the sound of your soft moans echoing off the walls of your chambers. 

Wanting you became a need fairly quickly and you were more than willing to let the man you admired from afar for so long take your purity away.

“I’m going to ruin you for the man you’re promised to, the second he sticks his worthless cock inside your pretty cunt he’ll know your innocence belongs to another man.”

[yawnderu]

Ex-husband Simon never truly goes away. 

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

His eyes flutter shut as your delicate arms encircle his shoulders, hugging his body closer to yours, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. Despite it all, you’re placing all your trust in Simon one last time.