#knight!simon riley

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!Reader (part 2) ♱ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: I'm so, so happy you guys liked part one! I tried my best to do it justice! Thank you all for the kind messages :) Also, should I do knight Jason Todd?? or, or knight John Price? I feel like I should mention I have not played modern warfare in sooo long, like since my ps3 broke (two-ish years ago!!). Ugh I'm so in love with knight Simon Riley!!

contents: a ton of fluff, lil bit of angst (I refuse to make my characters suffer too much, they deserve the world!!), allusion to sex but nothing specific or graphic.

For a couple months your illicit affairs with Simon became more frequent, your love for each other already confessed, feelings running wild like horses.

You'd gotten used to his touch, his fingertips on your cheeks, arms, thighs; his calloused hands so gentle with your soft skin, his touch almost reverent. His lips kissing every freckle and mark on your skin, slowly, as if to memorize them.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley whose heart broke the moment you broke the news to him: you'd been engaged to a prince from a foreign land, he'd come to the castle soon, live with you before the wedding eventually happened. You stood in the yard, under the weeping willow, in your place, when you told him. His mask was off, guard down, rough hands under the fabric of your dress. Your eyebrows knit with worry, tears brimming your eyes as you spoke.

You told him how you loved him and no other, his jaw tight, gaze cold with jealousy, envy of the lucky prince who would not know how to treat you right.

"I promise, Si. I'd marry you in a heartbeat, you know that!" You sobbed into his shirt, tears staining the fabric.

"I know, sweetheart, but we can't." You could hear the pain in his voice.

It had taken him so long to feel such a connection with anyone, and now that he'd found the one he couldn't keep her.

Your daily rendezvous became far more passionate and longer, you'd miss dinner, tell your mother Ghost took you riding— not entirely a lie— that was why your hair was tousled, skirt and tights askew and cheeks flushed red. Your mother just smiled and waved you away, clueless and careless.

You were aware that living in a castle, being next in line to rule, not having to lift a finger ever sounded like a good thing, but God, how you loathed the court. You'd confided in Simon once, told him that you felt out of place, like the black sheep. That you'd love to have an actual family, one that eats meals together, with people that talk to each other, love each other. He dreamt of providing that for you.

The harshness of your situation weighed heavy on Simon's shoulders, you could see it in the way his eyes barely held your gaze anymore, moving to look at the trees, a painting on a wall, the ground. You could feel it in the way he touched you, like he knew he had to let you go, but couldn't: his fingers holding onto your flesh roughly.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who was surprised (pleasantly so) when a couple weeks later you told him you'd run away with him.

"I've got it all planned out, horses food, an alibi...I swear, we can do it. We have to, before the prince gets here and I get no chance to."

"Honey—" he breathed.

"I mean it, I told the stable boy and a couple of the guards. I had to bribe them, something about sworn loyalty for my father— anyway, we can leave tonight, it's all ready."

Simon would walk through fire just to see your eyes again, he'd jump off a cliff if it meant he'd see you smile; so that night he meets you by the stables, a cloth bag with some of his belongings in it—clothes, weapons, a wad of cash— slung over his shoulder.

You stand by your horse, your dress tied up above your knees for easy mobility, hair down. There's a fire in your eyes he doesn't think he's ever seen before, and it makes the blood in his body rush south, heat pool in his stomach. Your own bag is slung over your shoulder, your foot taps against the floor with urgency.

"Ready?" You mutter, keeping your volume low.

He walked over to you, nodded curtly before he wrapped his arms around you.

"If we do this, there's no turning back." You warned him.

"I've got nothing here, no family, no past. You should be the one thinking about what they're loosing, my love."

"I can't do that. We have to go."

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who feels a sense of pride at how much you trust him, at how you left it all behind— the crown, the court, the comfort, your family, although you'd said time and time again you'd leave them if you could.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who gets you to a cabin in the woods that belonged to a friend of his, a lumberjack, who no longer used it. He laid you down on the bed, pushed the covers over your body and kissed your forehead before he unpacked your bags and lit a fire on the fireplace. Once he saw fit, he laid down beside you, his arms around your body, his lips pressed to your skin.

He knew the worries would come in the morning, the fear of getting caught, the shame, the tears; and then the relief, that of finally being able to be together and love loudly.

────୨ৎ────

@foxintheferns this is for u my dear!!! and for the anons that asked me to please write a part two lol

Requests are open!!

[secretlovezz]

Kisses of the Crown | Part One

Knight!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Princess!Reader

Summary: The introduction to the relationship between a Princess and her knight.

Warnings: none really

Wordcount: 1,206

Not proofread | Series Masterlist

"Teach me to wield a sword."

The tip of your index finger poked at the sword's pommel attached to his hip, fingering the meticulously engraved metal and darkened blood red Ruby gem that adorns it. Simon looked down at you, eyebrow raised in question, with amusement decorating his covered face. Your curiosity led you to inspect his hilt and scabbard further. His body unconsciously leans into your touch; though you do not touch him directly, he secretly yearns for you to do so, body overcoming his mind.

He only moves to stop your overzealous inspection when you advance to remove his blade from its covering. The knight's hand is placed gently over your own, calloused fingers working to pry your wandering hand from his side, thumb smoothing over your delicately soft skin.

Your eyes meet his dark ones, a hunting glare staring into his punctilious glower, “And why, Your Royal Highness,” the title sounds almost belittling and mockingly cheap coming from him, “Would I do that?”

Your jaw drops a little at his blatant defiance, It's not often you’re told no, especially from someone as seemingly arrogant as he. “I- Well, you-” An annoyed scoff leaves your lips, and your glare hardens in frustration. “I am your princess- you must do as I say.”

The guttural chuckle that manages to escape between the lips of the dark knight in front of you makes your face heat up with what feels a little like shame at your outburst; with a pout, you snatch your once brazen eyes from his and rip your hand from his queerly soothing touch to cross your arms in an almost childish way that only seems to fuel his entertainment in the matter. His large hand reaches for yours, wanting again to hold a part of you close in a moment of fleeting joy. However, your stubbornness makes you step back, blowing an exaggerated huff at him while still keeping your gaze in the opposite direction, falsely staring intently at the rows of flowers leading up to the garden.

Simon sucks his teeth at your display and instead reaches for your wrist this time, lean fingers gripping tight but not painfully so he can pull you closer to him. Your chest hits his a little roughly, and the velvety satin of your bodice hits metal. He leans in close, the cold metal of his well-worn helmet brushes against the shell of your ear -you imagine it's the scratch of his lips instead- and when you hear him take in a breath, it makes yours hitch.��

He doesn't move for a moment, enjoying your closeness and cherishing the scent of you.

“Ghost…?” Your call to him is almost silent, but you know he heard it because his hand squeezes lovingly at your wrist.

When he finally pulls back a bit to stare again into your eyes, his lips quirked up only for a second, and you can only tell because of the crinkle in the corners of his stupidly radiant eyes. “I think you forget, Princess, I take orders only from Her Majesty- and last I checked, you weren’t queen yet.”

What. An. Ass.

You scoff for what feels like the nth time that day and swipe your hand away from his grip once again. He watches with smug self-satisfaction as you begin to walk away from him, your royal colored dress flowing elegantly behind you, making your way back to the castle. His legs allow him to catch up promptly and soon he is silently back at your side as he always is.

----------♡

The following day, you woke up much earlier than usual because of a hard knock on your bedroom door. You don’t get up at the sound, though, deciding to ignore it adversely, not wanting to get up just yet after a dream filled restless night. It seems as though whoever stands on the other side of the door won’t have that; they knock again- more demanding than before- finally willing you to get up and unhurriedly make your way to the double doors.

Your hand rubs lazily at your eye while the other pulls at the handle of the heavy door. When your head peeks out the small crack in the door that you created you see no one, your already squinted eyes from having just woken up narrow more in confusion. A deep smoky voice breaks the shuddering morning silence addressing you, “Your Royal Highness.” You jump when Ghost emerges from the darkness of the hall, stepping closer to you.

“Goodness, Ghost!” Your hand is pressed to your chest in an attempt to calm your now racing heart and your other is braced against the door, “What is wrong with you? Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He raises a hand to point to the door, “I knocked,” His eyes seemingly empty but eyebrows raised in amusement -as they usually are around you-  as he speaks. You glare at him trying to keep an anger filled facade but you know that your body physically lightens when your knight is near and so does he. You clear your throat and straighten your back, “What could you possibly need from me so early this morning, sir Ghost.” Your brow is raised expectantly and do your best to smile despite wanting to be in bed ignoring his sarcastic comments.

“Did you want your lessons on wielding a blade or not?” Simon's heart tightens with feelings he is unwilling to admit he has when your eyes gloss over with pure excitement and your faux smile is replaced with a real lively one. He watches as your fingers anxiously fidget with the light fabric of your chemise, looking away when he realises he can see the soft curves of your breast through the cotton.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t teach me? What made you change your mind overnight?” The knight can tell you’re hesitant at his hasty change of heart and he does not blame you and now he is hesitant to tell you the true reason- he isn’t willing to admit that he simply doesn’t know how to say no to you- he’s willing to break a rule or two if it means bringing you even the most menial amount of happiness.

Simon decides to deflect the question even though he knows that would annoy you further, “If I am to teach you to wield a weapon I will train you as I would train anyone else, understood, Princess.”

There's that name again.

“Fine, when do we start?”

“Now.”

Your brows fly up, “Wha- Now?”

The Dark Knight glances your way again, “Yes, now,” he looks you up and down languidly no longer resisting the urge to keep his gaze appropriate, “And I suggest you get changed into something more… proper, before meeting me at the training grounds.”

You take a moment to take in your attire and your cheeks redden at the realization that you are in nothing but your nightgown. When you go to shoot back an impudent response in embarrassment, Ghost is no longer there. The darkness of the hall no longer encompassed his large form and you sigh dramatically at his usual mysteriousness.

“What an ass.”

[milkteahood]

a ghost for a knight

medieval au, chapter 1

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: your father, the king, makes his strongest knight keep watch over you due to you constantly disobeying the rules.

slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s while ghost is in his late 30s/ early 40s)

You thought he was merely a myth. Or at least, sort of. You heard the whispers, the other knights talking, but you never actually saw him.

Your father, the king, wasn’t allowing you to leave the premises of the castle, as you were the only heir. To you, he was just a story, a ghost. And to him, you were the same thing, for you had no idea your father was keeping you a secret. Only the most loyal to the family knew about you. So Simon had no idea why the king summoned him.

***

“That is a very good idea Your Highness” the advisor spoke.

“I just want her to be safe is all. She… she really inherited my temper” the king closed his eyes and rubbed one of his temples.

The crack from the secret passage was just enough for you to listen to the conversation. Someone was coming. Someone that was supposed to keep you safe. Safe from what? you thought to yourself. It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere.

As quiet as a mouse, you tiptoed away from the passageway and back into the labyrinth hidden into the castle. You knew every door, every crack. In case of a war, you could easily escape. Spending your free time hidden within the walls, listening to everyone’s conversations was something you found incredibly amusing. You knew which of the servants liked you and which couldn’t stand you. The only thing you found bothersome is not getting there in time to listen to your father’s whole conversation. You wanted to know who was coming. Is he planning to marry you off?

***

Exactly two weeks after the initial hearing of your father’s conversation is when the whispers started getting louder. “He is here” “The Ghost” “The Night” “The King’s most trusted” “The Myth” “The Legend”. And it was during one of your latin classes that the servant interrupted to announce that you were supposed by the king.

“Your Highness. The King is summoning you to the throne room” the servant spoke with a bow.

“What is it about?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I do not know princess”

“Very well”.

And with that, you stood up, a million thoughts running through your head.

Making your way down to the throne room, beautiful dress dragging behind, you felt a little anxious. After taking a few breaths, you let it known to the guards was alright to open the doors for you.

There stood your father, his advisor and a man. He was dressed like a knight and wore the kingdom’s crest, but you have never seem him before.

Your father’s voice broke your chain of thoughts.

“Y/N. Please step closer. There is something I need to tell you”

“Yes father?” you approached, giving him a small bow. He might’ve been your father, but he was also the king.

“I am aware of your little getaways” his tone was cold, but not angry.

You didn’t dare say more. You knew it was just a matter of time until he found out about your sneaking away from the castle into the forest.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you. He was taking you in.

“I have considered locking you away too” your father continued after a pause “but I know what I raised. You’d eventually escape a cellar too. So, there he is” he gestured towards the man “Sir Simon Riley. The most trustworthy knight and soldier I have. He is from now on in charge of looking after you and keeping you safe”.

***

“I cannot believe this” you finally spoke once you were far enough the hallway “I have been given a nanny”

“Seems like it, princess” Simon said.

“Don’t get smart with me”

He didn’t respond.

***

And so there he always was. When you studied, he was in the room. When you slept he was just outside. He only spoke if spoken to and always walked a couple steps behind you. Only when you’d request him to walk by your side did he ever do that.

There was no more sneaking away into the secret passages. That was something your father didn’t know you did, and you didn’t know just how much Simon reported back to him.

Life began to feel increasingly boring. You felt almost trapped, even more than you previously did. So you started to hatch a plan. How could you get away from Simon, even if it was just for a couple hours. The best solutions are always hidden in plain sight. Simon only ever left your side when you wanted to rest. Of course, he was just outside your door, but you had all the room to yourself. All the room and all the ways outside of it.

So that same evening, you told the knight who was worse than a shadow at this point, that you felt incredibly tired and would return to your chambers earlier.

“As you wish, princess” was all he said as he took his place in front of your door.

You changed out of your gown and into something more suited for what you were about to do.

A wave of adrenaline washed over you as you slipped your shoes off, as to not have your footsteps be heard, and very quietly opened your window. The sunset was magnificent, the breeze cool against your skin. Your room wasn’t very high up, making it very easy to decent off its balcony.

The grass was a little wet under your feet, and you took your sweet time to enjoy this little freedom. But, just as you were about to make a run for it through the palace’s garden, a strong hand wrapped itself around arm.

“Did you really think I was that stupid?” he almost hissed at you.

Your whole mood completely deflated in that moment.

“Well… I sure hoped you’d be” you replied.

His grip on you only tightened, enough to tell you he wasn’t in the mood for your games, but not hard enough to actually hurt.

“I just, really wanted to see the sunset”

“You can see it from your balcony” he replied coldly.

“But”

“No”

“I’m the princess!” you protested.

“And I answer to your father, not you, brat”.

He almost dragged you back inside, marking the first night Simon moved into your room. The king was right, Simon thought. You really were a flight risk. And when his head was on the line, he really wasn’t going to take any shit from a brat half his age.

do not repost my work anywhere. Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

pictures were taken from Pinterest. I take no credit for them

[imaginedreamwrite]

brave and valiant knights Simon & Johnny fight for the King and have returned from war honourable. The King grants them the highest praise earned for knights like themselves.

The King, to thank them for their service, grants them retirement and wealth, and a woman to share. The woman they wanted since before they left for war: their queen’s handmaiden

Wiping your hands on the apron on the front of your dress is only natural for you. To get rid of the moisture that sticks to your hands, that gives away your true feelings that you hide behind a perfected poised smile. You are a handmaiden to the queen, a woman destined to work for a woman much more royal than you.

Today you find yourself standing in the royal court, shifting your weight from foot to foot beneath the skirts of your ordinary work dress. The apron tied at your waist is dirtied from stoking the fire, ashes dust your cheeks, and yet you have garnered the attention of two knights.

Returning from war, Knight Simon the Death-Mongerer and Knight Johnny the Galloglaigh, had become legends in their return. They were beastly and fearless, scars marked their victories and their deeds during the war earned them retirement and wealth.

With retirement came the desire for marriage, a wife for the two of them to share, a woman who would bear them strong willed daughters and sons. The task of finding a wife for the two fierce men was not a task anyone could consider hard by any means.

They were desired, they were highly coveted by other noblewomen and higher status maids than yourself. There was a long line of women who would offer themselves up to be their future bride.

But the two men already knew who they wanted. They had made their choice and it was a request given to the king that was honoured. The women that had lined the halls trying to vie a place in the brave knights favour had wasted their time and efforts on someone who didn’t want them.

“A handmaiden?” The choice was negated as odd at the very least, considering how many other women had wanted to take the position as the knight’s wife.

Their choice was you. And you’d never felt more awkwardly stationed in your life, as you had now.

Your dress was used, worn from the years of service to the princess who then became queen. You had a dusty and slightly dirty apron, charcoal on your cheeks and they still chose you.

You stood in the royal court while the two men, the two valiant knights, had presented the Queen with substantially capable proof that her handmaiden wouldn’t fall to the wayside. The Knights Simon & Johnny had presented you with gifts of fine dresses, a delicate mirror set into fine silver with a hairbrush to match. Jewelry that you’d never been able to wear before, hairpins to weave into your hair when you woke in the morning.

A staff of your own, to deal with the day to day life that you would experience once you left the castle. They had it all, an estate in the quietude of the countryside, still within riding distance of the castle grounds but it was your own.

“Our bride,” Johnny’s physical boldness was as unforgettable as his verbal bravery, “will be taken care of your Highness.”

His hand slipped around your waist, your body pressed against his side. Scars on his arms, one that trailed down his right temple to nearly his jaw, and they hadn’t deterred from his beauty.

Simon, the Death Mongerer, was no less bold. In the royal court they lay their possession upon you. They were making a statement, one you couldn’t deny.

You were their wife in the eyes of the King & Queen.

[omgitstatertot]

@bitterrfruit art gave me this idea

Simon Riley with a "Do Not Resuscitate" tattoo across his chest, big and in bold, who put it there in hopes that it would be followed, though the tattoo holds no legal binding and unless you have a written DNR your doctors are required to ignore it

Simon Riley, who spent those years with the tattoo, thinking that no one would truly miss him, were the occasion to arise

Simon Riley, who gets a partner, becomes quite comfortable and content with said partner, to the point he's taking off his clothes.

Simon Riley, who doesn't even get to reach for his belt to finish changing when his partner gasps, and begins anxiously fretting over the tattoo, fingers tracing the bold letters, doe-like eyes staring into his damn soul and a lip worried between their teeth.

Simon Riley, who can't seem to close his eyes as his partner insists on clinging to him that night, their hand resting over his heart as it finally sinks in that he would be, in fact, missed were the occasion to arise.

Simon Riley anxiously googling how expensive and how much time a tattoo removal takes.

[ghouljams]

You know how it all works. At least, you think you know how it all works.

"Feel that?" Ghost asks, his cock stretches you out almost painfully, and still you can feel most pressing against your entrance. Your stomach is full of him, your cervix nudged by the head of his fat cock as it finds a home buried deep inside. You shake your head against the pillows with a whine, your hips twitching as his hands pull your ass apart, kneading the soft flesh with rough callused fingers. "Feel that knot pressin' against ya so nicely?" His voice is shot, croaking with how rough it hits your ear. Your eyes roll as your lashes flutter, the heat of his words dripping down your spine liquor thick.

Your cunt throbs, pulses with needy pleasure as it squeezes tight around him. You want to touch, to reach a hand between you and stroke the hardened bud that seems to glow with heat. You want to feel over your stomach, see if he presses against you as heavily as you think, perhaps you could find his hard cock beneath all your softness. The thought sends a shiver through you. Libidinous desire isn't befitting of a princess.

And yet, Ghost circles his hips, grinding his knot against your entrance, and you feel that liquid desire drip from you. Hot and slick. You feel it like a fever drenching your skin, sticky with sweat and yearning.

"Let me in Princess," Ghost murmurs, leaning to press his weight against your back, "Lemme breed this li'le pussy, bet I get it my first try." The curve of his smile as his lips skate over your neck makes a whine bubble in your throat, deep and needy as the punch of his cock. "Can even help the process," he offers, lips parting to tease his teeth against the soft spot where your mating gland lies.

"Please-"

Your whimpered word jerks you awake. Sweat dampens the bed beneath you, the sheets sticking to your skin as your breath shudders through your chest. Fever blazes through your body, the air the tickles your skin is frigid and uncomfortable, and you gather the damp blankets back around you. Your thighs are wet with slick and your core pulses with sick desire. A cramp tightens in your stomach painfully, and you curl into yourself. You want Ghost, but heats aren't the time to be playing the lovesick fool.

[tapemouth]

all the old ghost archives i liked that was deleted off my old blog

this is my new account, same user same style whatever

[abusivegymrat]

Gaz outside the military:

[guhbwuh]

Upcoming au wip✍️

[just-some-user-hunny]

Knight!Simon Riley helping you feed his horse because you're timid of such a large beast, but he's such a tender thing. Nuzzling his velvet mouth into your palm to lick up the oats your knight nestled in your cupped hand, guiding you closer with gruff reassurance and patience. It's alright. He won't hurt you. I'm right here princess, nothing will happen. See? He likes you.

Smiling with glee as the horses whiskers tickle your skin as he eats, missing your knight's heavy stare of dark irises swallowing up the colour of his eyes. Hoping maybe you'll remember this exact scenario that played out when you were both wide eyed children, his own hand guiding yours just like before. When he was just a gentle stableboy covered in bruises and cuts, and you were a teary eyed little thing. Always so curious but frightened of the horses, yet always keening to him. He had smelt of sun and hay and hard labour, older than you by a few years, tender and guiding. Maybe you'll remember next time.

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x princess!reader (part 3) mdni 18+ ♱

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: I'd missed writing for knight Simon, oh god I love him. Would you guys want a part 4? Or maybe a lumberjack!Price fic? cw: oral sex (f! receiveing), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mild breeding kink praise, aftercare, historical inaccuracy. Simon Riley is the contrary of a nonchalant boyfriend.

The first night you spent at the cabin you cried on Simon's chest for hours until you fell asleep, worn out and tired from the trip and the tears, Simon's soft touches lulling you to sleep.

The following morning, after all the tears had been shed, that the reality of your situation enveloped you. All the sadness and guilt you felt were overcome by a profound sense of peace. You were finally at home with Simon, the man you loved—the man who cherished you as if you were holy, like your presence meant something, like your touch was soothing.

The sun filtered in through the window and caught in Simon's eyes, like specks of gold, as he leaned over you, deft fingers caressing your bare skin. His touch was soft and careful, like you were made of porcelain.

"Morning, sweetheart. How 're you feeling?" His gaze was glued on you with worry and a carefulness that made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm..." You sighed, eyebrows knitting up with worry again.

"Hey, we're fine. Nobody will find us here, and we'll have so much time to spend together. We won't even have to go to the village; I can hunt, and we can grow vegetables in the garden— we'll deal with it."

"I know. I'm so glad we did it, Si, it's just so—" Your voice broke off as he held you against his chest, whispering praise in your ear as you relaxed again.

Simon knew you'd feel like this, so he caressed the back of your head and tried to take your mind off it. When the caresses weren't enough his hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, up your thighs and at the edge of your panties, the light cotton already soaked— you couldn't help it when he was so strong, so sweet and handsome, right there beside you, taking care of you— to his delight.

"It's a lot you gave up, yeah? But you're a really brave girl, aren't you?" He cooed at you softly, his gaze molten and loving; his hands warm on your skin, so close to where you needed him.

He didn't make you wait, didn't make you beg and scream for it, not when you'd already been through so much. His fingers dipped beneath your panties and prodded at your warmth, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

Before long, he had you coming apart on two of his thick fingers, legs shaking as you moaned his name. Your hands gripped his hair with force when he began a slow but purposeful descent down your stomach and thighs, pressing open mouthed sloppy kisses all over you, teeth catching onto warm flesh before he got in between your thighs.

One of his hands still rubbed at your clit, tracing slow, deliberate, circles as he lapped at your center. His tongue darted out to lick a bold stripe all the way up your slit. Simon didn't hesitate to quicken his pace, didn't think it twice before slipping his free hand—previously holding you down— up your abdomen and on your chest, calloused palm caressing your soft breasts, nipples pebbling under his touch.

You began to grind your hips on his face, chasing the release that was so close now, as you gasped for air and pulled at his hair.

Simon could— and normally would— spend hours between your thighs, the warmth of your cunt, the plush of your thighs squeezing his head, the way your fingers carded through his hair, like he was as much a lifeline to you as you were to him.

When you reached your second orgasm—hips stuttering against his face, nose brushing your clit as he sucked and kissed your puffy folds, thighs caging him in and fingers pulling at his hair— he could have sworn he'd died and gone to heaven.

But it was when he heard your voice, dazed and soft, he finally looked up from your cunt, lips separating with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting you to his mouth. Simon had a wild look in his eye, like he had finally broken free of the shackles that kept him, like he could finally let go.

You tugged him up from his shirt and he followed suit, settling over you, his chapped lips just a breath away from yours.

"I'd take this morning with you over any land or luxury the king could ever offer me. They would never hold a candle to you, anyway." He brushed your bangs away from your eyes.

"'m so in love with you, Si" You grinned with your eyes half lidded, voice low and velvety, before you pulled him down for a kiss, tasting your arousal on his tongue.

He groaned, grinding his hips against your thigh. His cock painfully hard and leaking precum now. He made quick work of his pants and bunched your nightgown up at your waist before lining himself up with your hole.

You whined at the stretched and he kissed you again, wanting to soothe any ache you could feel. Once he was all the way in one of his hands snaked in between your bodies to play with your clit, drawing tight circles on it. He was panting at your ear, soft groans from deep in his chest escaping him any time he pushed in a little deeper, whispering to you about how beautiful you looked in the morning light, how beautiful you'd look swollen with his child.

"You'll be the sweetest little wife, won't you? Such a sweet girl—" He groaned out, picking up his rhythm, pressing kisses all over your face and neck in missionary.

"I will, Si." You breathed out, not even aware of what you were answering, not aware of what he'd asked you.

"Fuck. Lovie, you're so tight, so pretty, I'm—" His voice shook at the rhythm of his hips, now snapping forward sporadically, rutting into your tiny cunt relentlessly. He came with a grunt, shortly after you— after you'd bitten his shoulder, vision blurring and tears grazing your cheeks from overstimulation.

He didn't pull out, not immediately, he pushed his cum further in you with a final thrust of his hips and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your hot, sweaty skin before dozing off to sleep again.

You watched him fall back to sleep, running your fingers through his blond strands, across the scars that littered his back, the ones he talked about and the ones that made him go rigid and quiet, the ones that made you lose Simon and get Ghost instead. You kissed the crown of his head, and he grumbled a stern, "Go to sleep, m'love," before you chuckled and closed your eyes, doing as he said. Sleep hadn't come easy the previous night, but now, after spending the morning being cherished by the man who had risked his life for you and run away for you, sleep came almost automatically.

As you drifted off, lulled to sleep by his touch, rough palms running down your waist, thick fingers brushing through your hair, you felt him press a kiss to your neck and mutter a soft "we'll work it out." and the finality of his words, the conviction in his tone, made you trust him, like you always did.

────୨ৎ────

tags: @laceyfaeryy @cherrycolaheartss @nicolebarnes @tsyurissxo @foxintheferns

[finemadeline]

Knight!ghost x maid!reader

Warnings: Light gore, heavy smut, 18+

@readgoods wonderful artwork of Ghost in armor with a codpiece changed my brain chemistry

The kingdom should have Ghosts head for this.

Let his head loll to the ground after the blade sliced through flesh and bone, and stab it on a stake to parade around the kingdom — a message to those who think of disobeying the crown. To those who wish to commit high treason among the monarchy.

But greed is hungry. It consumes, and it takes. It makes his senses dull and his eyes linger when you walk by, tracing your features out of the corner of his eye. Makes a deep ravenous ache deep in his gut, that coils around his ribs and tightens around his heart.

It makes him weak, and soft. Forces his hand, and makes him seek you out in the dead of night to the servant quarters to hear you chatter on about your day, or sneak decadent treats from the ballroom to the room you’ve been assigned to see you smile.

The kingdom should strip him of his titles for this.

Take away his power, his roles, his possessions. Leave him bare and banish him to the wastelands, leaving him to fend for himself in the woods. Let the wolves finish him off and turn his bones into peat.

Ghost should be outside the princess's door. Waiting for her to call his name sickeningly sweet — her eyes filled with mirth and her makeup garish. He should be there, at her beck and call, protecting the Princess. Serving the crown, rotten or not.

That is his duty. That is his honor.

But his hands followed his eyes when they wandered. His brain strayed along, lagging behind his heart. He let temptation consume him and leave his duty behind. Let his fingers graze yours in passing — let himself follow you when you slinked into the servant quarters to busy yourself with duties.

He could no longer think of the consequences. Not when his hands pulled you into the nearest closet, pushing up your dress as his mouth clamped onto your neck, your soft whimpers making his ears fill with cotton as the curve of your thighs made his body pulse with need.

“You are a temptress.” He hisses, grabbing your hips and pulling you to grind against his codpiece. Ghosts hips rush to meet yours, pushing against you to catch your cunt against the cold metal. When he reaches to pull the hood of your clit as he grinds the codpiece closer, your thighs shake with need.

He relishes in your moans, nibbling onto your ear as two fingers tap your lips. “Open,” he rasps, pulling his fingers from your thigh to instead rest on your cheek, squeezing them together. When you open your mouth, his tongue hurries to meet yours.

It’s filthy in the way its teeth and tongue, his tongue pushing deeper into your mouth to hear you keen for him, only pulling away when you squirm — your glassy eyes and bated breath almost making his eyes roll into his head.

His lips move to your neck, tonguing at the salty sweat made. He threatens to bite, to crack your bones open and sink into your marrow to make a home there — and you do nothing but tilt your head away to give him more access.

He’d much rather kneel to you. Lower his head to kiss your hand — ignoring the chipped nails and gnarled skin, or the ratty clothes and dirt stains— and watch you night and day, waiting for you to call for him. No longer serving the rotten, but something much sweeter. Much softer.

Your whines of his name break him out of his fervor, hips canting faster as you approach your peak. He should punish you, he thinks. Pull his hips away and watch your release slip from your grasp for bringing him to his knees so easily. For weakening his heart so greatly.

But he relishes in the way your body squirms as you come, hips twitching as you bite your bottom lip to silence your moans. When you lean back onto him, reaching up for a kiss, he then knows he can deny you nothing.

He will give you everything.

He deserves to serve something more sweeter. More softer.

Link to photo reference! : https://www.tumblr.com/readgoods/778351895707287552/knight-ghost

[gomzdrawfr]

👑The King is here👑

thank u Juju and mbe for the help ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

this is based on this alt version:

bit on a pink glowy side, I wasn't sure if this look good bcuz it kinda overshadows the blush, but I like the dreamy effect it gave :)

[imaginedreamwrite]

new obsession unlocked- knights!Ghoap x handmaiden!reader. anon and you cooked something delicious 🤤

I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t. Can you share with us the moment or one of them that made Ghoap decide that reader was the one? Can you show us what she did that made them finally ask something from the King? Something cute or silly or horny. Something heartwarming or touching. Her alone or with the Queen. What was it?

❣️

“What ye lack in direction, ye make up for it in deadly fury.” Johnny’s grin breaks the tension of the clack of conversation between the two knights. The travel between the latest village they were tasked with checking on after raids from thieves, to their home at the castle was long-winded.

“You lost the bloody fucking map, ya fucked-” Simon’s growl echoes in the dimly lit forest, the thick overhanging entangled vines that block their view simultaneously startle their beastly horses.

“-I dinnae lose the map, ye were in charge of the-” Johnny protests the accusation, shifting his weight on his horse with just enough bad timing to scare the otherwise controlled beast.

The sharp and frightened cry of the horse has a chain reaction that also makes Simon’s buck him off. The two knights, for all their years of service and expertise, had been thrown off their mounts like they were fresh from the womb. The startled creatures take off in the same direction furthering themselves into the forest while the infamous men lay on the mossy earth.

“Fucking hell!” Simon stumbles to his feet after he processes the manner of which they’d been thrown off, and then helps Johnny stand.

“Blamin’ time for this too, aye?” Johnny’s grin never falters, he claps Simon on the back and gathers the supplies the horse kicked off in their fright. He throws them across his own back and then starts charting off after the scared beasts.

“Ya lost the bloody fuckin’ map, Johnny!” Simon follows the same path, taking off after their great horses of war turned to little mice scared of their own shadows. “This is your fault.”

“Ahh, ye worry too much. We’ll get there eventually.” Even if he was a death mongerer on the battlefield, Johnny knew Simon couldn’t stay mad at him. Johnny was too charming, too charismatic for Simon to be pissed for long.

An hour, two even, passes before the silence breaks. Johnny speaks, he breaks the stilled conversation with much of the same irritation that Simon had conducted. It was a trek through the woods to find their way back from the village and back to the castle.

“Our fuckin’ horses-”

“Shut up.” Simon’s hand shoots out, silencing Johnny with a curt voice. His eyes pierced through the reeling toward a small pond, one that was surrounded with thick grass and spurts of natural flowers. The pond itself was small and isolated yet no so far from the castle that seeing someone here would be uncommon.

“What are you doin’-” Johnny stepped beside Simon, his own blue eyes searching through the cracks and spaces in the wall of trees to see another person.

A woman in plain work dress that the staff of the castle would wear. A woman who was petting their horses necks and calming them as they stomped on the ground.

“That’s the Queen’s handmaiden.” Simon’s gruff voice dropped to a whisper, still husky and hoarse. “Recognize the maid from the Queen’s private wing.”

“Tha’s the Queen’s maid?” Johnny steps toward, watching you as you fuss over their horses.

The two war creatures that the noble knights rode into hell and back, were acting like puppies at your sides. The horses’ heads were bowed while you brushed dirt from their hair with your hand. You were coddling them, feeding them fresh apples from your basket, filling buckets of water for them to drink from.

Their attention was fixated on the handmaiden, on you, as you catered to the beasts.

“Forest nymph,” Johnny’s grin becomes something softer, driven more by a fantasy than his mere charming personality, “or a sprite. My ma told me ‘bout ‘em. Beautiful creatures that linger in the forest, animals’ called to ‘em.”

“They aren’t real, Johnny.” Simon’s voice holds on to a higher touch of reality and yet he also seems to be drawn to the image of the Queen’s handmaiden taking care of their horses.

He moves forward, Johnny’s foot catches on a dried stick and the crack startles both horses and you. Your heads lift in unison, the horses ears perk up as they scour the treeline, only relaxing once they see their riders. But you, you stand stark and still like a doe debating whether to dart into the woods away from a predator.

“Aye lass, ye found our beasts!” Johnny brambles forward, his horse shaking its head as if denying the claim that it was found.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately set upon apologizing, stumbling over your feet and the skirt of your handmaiden’s dress, gathering your baskets of apples, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Hold on a minute lassie,” Johnny steps out of the reeling and begins to walk around the pond, careful not to crush the flowers beneath the soles of his leather boots, “jus’wanna talk-”

His horse, as if suddenly taking the side of the forest nymph, seemingly gets spooked again. It kicks and blocks Johnny from following you, and Simon is having no better luck.

You’re fast for a woman in a handmaiden’s dress, you move quicker than they anticipate. As Simon and Johnny both try and control their beasts, the sound of your horse out of view is indicative of your escape. The hoofbeats ring in their ear as you leave, as you ride as quickly as you can away from them both.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi love ♡ I wanted to pop in and let you know how much I appreciate your blog. Recently got back on tumblr from a loooong hiatus and I love reading to get back up from my writing slump.

I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a headcanon focused on the 141 pining after the reader - I am a sucker for the trope. Cannot get enough of it. Just use this ask to be creative, I love exploring other writers' craft! ♡

Have a wonderful day 🩷

I’d love to, and while we’re at it, let’s make this an AU for the hell of it.

Knight!Price who is disowned and discarded by his liege lord, his title, lands, and any holdings stripped from him. Setting out on his own, he comes a mercenary for hire, taking up all the odd jobs he can. When he and his merry band of misfits take a job to hunt down a baron’s runaway bride, Price doesn’t expect that the fiery woman he finds will steal his heart. It’s a wayward journey with Price slowing the group down just to have one more day with you. Returning you to your betrothed is unthinkable.

Rugby!Gaz who secretly imagines himself with his teammate’s girlfriend. She comes to every game, and at every game, Kyle pretends it’s her cheering him on and not his teammate. He imagines her wearing his number, hugging him after winning a match, and celebrating with him in his bed. It’s wrong to lust like this—to want her like he does. But she is all he wants, all he desires, he just needs to figure out how to snatch her up.

Neighbor!Soap who lusts after his next-door neighbor. You’re dating someone else, a real arsehole that Soap would like to slug in the face. Instead, Soap is forced to watch him mistreat all while he yearns for your attention. It’s “good mornings” every day, offers to fix things in your home, and not so subtle flirting. The boyfriend knows what Soap’s up to, but you appear blissfully ignorant to it. All he needs to do is get this prick out of the picture.

Widower!Ghost who obsessively stalks the new nanny. After the death of his wife, Ghost has been lonely. He’s been the dutiful, single dad, looking after his twin toddlers. But when he hires on help, he doesn’t expect to become to enamored with you. Every waking hour is a constant pining that he can’t seem to shake. It doesn’t help when he watches you with the kids. It only furthers the infatuation, causing him to yearn for the thing that he’s been missing.

shoutout to @halfglasscrazy for the knight!price brainworms.

CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist

[ghouljams]

hi ghoul! would it be safe to say that princess!reader would ask knight!ghost to touch her intimately since... well... it's improper for a princess to touch herself? if someone else was doing it for her, would it be acceptable instead? i mean, he's not her husband but it's not like he's fully deflowering her. he'd just be touching that annoying little bud that aches so badly and she just wants that ache to go away :(

They're not even married!! To suggest such a lewd thing is just... it's improper!

Not that Ghost doesn't think about it. Doesn't see the way you press your thighs together, or shift in your chair, or squirm in your bed in and think, "I could fix that." It haunts him thinking about spreading your pretty legs and slipping his fingers between the folds of your cunt. Watching the slick collect like dew, teasing you until it drips down to soften the calluses at the base of his fingers. He could be content just rubbing his thumb against your clit, watching you try to maintain composure as the pleasure builds. He thinks about how he'd chastise you for whining, remind you that royalty demands what they want, they don't whine. He imagines the shake in your poor voice, the pout of your lips, the wetness of your eyes, as you do what he told you. Always a good girl for him.

He strokes his cock as he imagines what you would taste like, licks his dry fingers to chase the salt of his sweat, to fuel the fantasy.

He imagines pushing his fingers into your soft cunt and stretching the tight hole until it breaks. He imagines licking the blood from his fingers before you notice, sucking your innocence from his war-torn hands with the vain hope that now you'd never stop aching for him. The same way he never stops aching for you.