#knight!simon riley

[imaginedreamwrite]

handmaiden! Reader watching Johnny and Simon train and they can feel her eyes on them

The clanging of metal on metal draws your attention from the open window of your bedroom. The estate in the countryside was distanced enough from the castle and kingdom to grant them peace and tranquility. Yet it wasn’t so far as to become separated from the kingdom itself. It was a necessity since Simon and Johnny aided in training the new upcoming knights for the King & Queen.

You can hear the sounds of grunts as the motions of training is being carried out on estate grounds. You know that Simon and Johnny are training, they usually would at this time of day. It hasn’t mattered before if they were retired, basked with riches and wealth, power over their own estate and servants that took care of the grounds.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you had swiftly left the bedroom you were reading in, to follow the noise. You negated to wear a cloak around your shoulders, just as you’d denied the servants who were inside the estate’s walls from preventing you from leaving. The handmaiden’s you had for yourself, a position you once filled with the Queen, chided you like sisters—worried that you’d catch a cold.

You left the estate doors and slipped through the garden, following the path toward the stables and training ground. Your feet were moving quicker than your mind could and you had arrived at the training ring just in time to see Johnny & Simon clashing swords. The sharp ting of metal on metal had drawn an audible gasp from your lips, your fascination furthered when you saw how effortlessly they moved.

“The wee little wife has come to see the show,” Johnny cracks a grin and pauses the sparring to greet you, “drawn outta tha bed, love?”

“You move so fast.” You were in a state of awe, awe of them and their movements, as they conducted a false fight between themselves. “And your blows are so strong-”

“Come here,” Simon’s gruffness draws you closer, the action of him wiping the sweat from his brow makes your legs feel weak, “into the ring.”

Your feet move once again, and you find yourself walking on autopilot. You step into the ring, glancing between the two of them until Simon’s hand wraps around your bicep. He tugs you gently yet quickly to stand in front of him, to settle yourself where he can rest his other hand on your hip.

“Ya wanna learn?” He leans down, lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice producing shivers that run down your spine. “Hold out your hand.”

“I can’t-” your hand shakes even before he places the leather bound hilt against your palm.

“Little wife is nervous, dinnae worry ye wee little nymph. I won’hurt ye.” Johnny steps forward, closing the distance as Simon wraps your fingers around the leather hilt of the blade.

“Keep your feet shoulder width apart, balance on your toes for quick movements.” Simon’s hands guide you, they aide you into the correct position until you’re where he wants you to be. Once he’s satisfied, he cups the hand that’s holding the sword and makes the first swing.

It doesn’t feel natural to you, it feels too weighty and lofty in your hands but still he aides you.

“Ah, our Bonnie wife’ll be a fighter.” Johnny takes his position in the ring, right where Simon places you. And then with a tilt of Johnny’s head, Simon starts guiding you to fight.

[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

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.

[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.

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

[softaestluv]

The king assigns four knights to the princess in hopes to protect his daughter’s innocence and modesty, your virtue and purity. But your poor father doesn’t know what happens behind closed doors. Can’t seem to figure out why every potential suitor runs away with their tails tucked between their legs.

Knight! Tf141 x Princess! Reader

Tags: Poly! Tf141, Stereotypical hierarchy during regency era, Regency era inaccuracies, Mentions of forced marriage, Mention of non-consensual/aggressive touching/pulling/pushing, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Next (soon!)

The king, your father, assigns four knights to your side because you can’t seem to keep yourself out of trouble or disgracing the family name. He hopes to protect his daughter’s innocence and modesty, your virtue and purity. Four knights who he thinks are doing their job quite well, pleased to hear that you haven’t been causing too much havoc around the kingdom.

But your poor father doesn’t know what happens behind closed doors. Can’t seem to figure out why every potential suitor runs away with their tails between their legs.

You suppose it started rather innocent, your father wanted you to find a suitor, become married to a distinguished family. Give him an heir even if you did not want to, were not ready for a child of your own. So, when your father started inviting suitors to the castle you hid amongst the abundance of wardrobes and armories you could find.

You were thankful that you had a loyal lady-in-waiting by your side, tried to hide your secret for as long as she could from the king. But when this no longer worked you began to climb the garden walls. Which wasn’t exactly an easy feat, especially in the bodice and garments you were constantly adorned with. Tore the stitching in one too many gowns, bashfully brought the ripped fabric to your handmaiden.

Regularly scolded how ‘your highness, I have never met a young lady who’s ruined so many gowns before. Perhaps you should have learned how to sew instead of how to ride a horse.’

‘But I do know! Mama taught me so!’ you would argue, plopping your head at her knees while she sewed, ‘If she was still here do you think she would stop father from forcing me to wed?’

‘I do not know, little deer, but the king has been entirely gracious with you. You have reached the age to marry for years now, and he never demanded it of you until now.’

‘Well, perhaps he should have done it when I was young and naive! Maybe I would have been more inclined with the woes of marriage.’

She would laugh nodding her head, ‘Yes, perhaps he should have. You’re too stubborn for your own good.’

And when she was done, she would show you the double stitching she used to reinforcer the material to prevent any future tears. Then lean real close and whisper the next date your father had invited suitors with a hushed promise of preparing your horse outside the garden walls for your ‘great escape.’

You thought that would be the worse of it, but maybe your defiance came as a guttural shock to your father. You had been nothing but obedient, the perfect image of a princess before now and perhaps he was not prepared for your sudden insolence. Had called you into his royal office to scold you that he could not understand why you would possibly be undermining his honor.

‘Perhaps he had given you far too much freedom,’ he had grumbled, ‘Maybe he should not have taught you how to ride a horse or how to shoot a bow and arrow. It was unladylike to know how to hunt, after all.’

‘But Father, you were the one who insisted on taking me hunting! Mama advised you otherwise.’ You had interjected.

‘Yes, indeed, it would have been wise to listen to your mother.’

‘Father, I assure you that knowing how to hunt has not hindered my want to be married.’

‘Then maybe it is all those books you have been reading, filling your mind with strange ideas and fantasies. That will not do, you are my daughter and you will marry.’

That was when he assigned the royal guard, Sir MacTavish, to your side. You had thought that was rather dramatic, a knight would not make you marry. Though, it was not the worst company to have, and he was quite easy to charm. So, when the first visitor arrived after MacTavish was assigned, you were able to wrangle your way out of his sight. A fact that your father wasn’t entirely pleased about. You almost felt guilty watching MacTavish get reprimanded by your father.

Which is how you found yourself in your current situation. If one knight wasn’t enough, your father certainly thought four should do the trick, which proved true. It was rather difficult to escape the tight confines of knights such as Sir Price and Sir Riley, the pair was far more diligent and rigid than MacTavish was.

You thought four knights was a bit excessive especially considering you were merely a princess and not an enemy to the throne. Truthfully, you might have taken MacTavish for granted. Not a moment went by where you weren’t under the watchful eye of the royal guard. Couldn’t roam the castle without them following close behind, perched in the library reading a book and there they were. Sat in silence while you practiced the piano in the great hall, watched you paint with oils and watercolors in the drawing room, followed along on your horse rides.

At first you despised it, despised them with every breath. Privacy was nonexistent for a woman such as yourself, and four knights were not exactly the company you craved, but with time they began to meet your fancy.

Sir Price began to share novels he read with you when the two of you sat in the library. Swapped preferred books with each other every week before discussing the language and thoughts when returning the next week after finishing the works. The discussions would turn quite heated, but Price would laugh along, a glint of admiration in his eyes every time you challenged something he said or the words in the book.

Sir Garrick sat on the piano bench with you while you played; he enjoyed the music, the sounds and symphonies, so you taught him how to play easy songs and ballads. Couldn’t help but smile every time he mastered a song with you, every time he wanted to show the other three knights what he learned proudly. Met your eyes with reverence and adoration every time the two of you performed a song without mistakes.

Sir MacTavish accompanied your side while painting, albeit he was a far better artist than you were, so he helped you more than you were able to help him. Explained certain ways you could stroke your brush, how to apply shadows and depth, angles and perspective until you were accurately able to capture a landscapes, sunsets, and portraits. Clapped and smiled at you boisterously and proud when you finished a new painting, singing your praises.

Sir Riley drank morning tea with you before joining you on your horse rides in the forest. As soon as it became an established routine, he had a cup of warm tea waiting for you every morning, drank in comfortable silence while you rubbed the sleep from your tired eyes. He followed far behind on your rides, gave you the space and freedom he knew you had been craving, or maybe it was because he enjoyed the peaceful look on your face in the dewy mornings; you weren’t entirely sure, but you cherished the time anyways.

Now, there was not a day you did not look forward to MacTavish’s careless talking, unconcerned and informal or the deep grunts of acknowledgement from Riley. You treasured your interactions with them, but it did not change the fact that they were there to push you into the hands of dukes you did not want. Just as they sat there during your leisure; they accompanied your side when you were sent on excursions with dukes and lords. Forced you to participate and eliminate any chance of an escape.

Maybe you were still naive, maybe you should not have believed that they would not follow your fathers orders, that the bond you were beginning to form with them was more than that. So, as much as you enjoyed their time; your relationship with them remained hostile when it felt as if they betrayed you. Your words were harsh, your stares even harsher; you shut them out, stopped reading the books Price would give you, sat in the middle of the piano bench to prevent Garrick from sitting with you, painted in the confines of your private quarters, pushed the tea that Riley would make away as soon as your fathers efforts seemed to work, as soon as you were sent off to be married, an act you did not have a say in, not when you father honored the man with his blessing to take your hand.

When you had turned to your four knights for help, they turned their gaze the other way, left you stranded and helpless. You were sure they had heard you crying in your room more times than not, wallowing in your bed because you were to marry a man that repulsed you.

Still, they did nothing, but guide you into his arms.

You knew it was not entirely their fault, they were serving their king, following his orders no matter how much it pained them to watch you push them away, listen to the sobs ricocheting off your walls, but it still settled a nasty taste in your throat, vile and painful every time they ushered you to another ball with the Duke.

That was before Sir Riley had attended a horse ride with you and the Duke, trailed far behind the two of you when you stopped at the stream you always perched yourself at every morning. It was not mandatory for Riley to follow you, not when you were in the presence of the Duke, but he came along anyways. Maybe it was because he wore his occupation like a badge of honor, maybe it was because he did not trust the Duke alone with you.

Perhaps he knew he should not have trusted the Duke.

You had begun to peel your shoes off, just like you always did at the stream, preparing yourself to walk into the cold water. The Duke watched you with hesitant eyes contrasted the reverence in Sir Riley’s directly behind him; it was an act he had seen you perform countless times, stood and watched you closely, so you would not lose your footing, but it was new to the Duke. An action he deemed he did not like as he lunged forward as soon as you began to move, banding his strong grip on your arm.

“You are not to go into that water.” The Duke snarled, pulling you backwards so harshly that you stumbled over your footing, fell backwards into the rushing water.

Sir Riley was by your side in an instant, hoisting you into his brawny arms, and carrying you to stable ground, settling your bare feet in the dry grass.

“My princess, are you alright?” Riley asked, concern laced in his tone, as his eyes darted over your wet frame, gown dripping with water, to find any injuries.

You nodded your head through chattering teeth and wet clumped lashes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, just cold.”

Riley removed his cloak at your response, placing it on your shoulders before typing it off around your neck, smoothing his large palms over the fabric to emit warmth.

“Oh, she’s okay; It’s just some water,” The Duke sneered from behind Riley.

You watched the edges of Riley’s irises shift hard, steel-like, turning to snap at the Duke, seething, “I’d choose my words very wisely if I was you.”

The Duke didn’t have more to say, trotted behind on his horse as Riley escorted you back to the castle. Ushered you inside your private quarters quickly, gesturing for the other three knights to join him, murmured to you that they had business to take care of before disappearing down the grand hall.

That night when you were summoned for dinner, you were surprised by the absence of the Duke, but when you pressed the maids all they shared was that the he left with swollen cheeks and blackened eyes without an explanation to your father. And when you met your knight’s eyes across the room, you couldn’t help but smile.

dividers made by @/olenvasynyt! I will also be reblogging the post if you guys want to support as well!

masterlist

[daughterofthequeen]

When you’ve read all the stories in all the fandoms you’re apart of and are now starving for more fic content. (I’M SO BORED HEELLLP!!!!!!!!!)

[taisiabelle]

My mom: So, who are you texting?

Me, who spends unhealthy amount of time on Character.Ai : No one....

[variety-fangirl]

Thinking about reader having a tough time, a tough couple of weeks, of just feeling awful. Your mental health had taken a toll and gotten bad again. You weren't exactly sure what specifically set it off this time. It was most likely a combination of things.

Your workload had picked up due to the increase in your rent, which put you financially out some, and you didn't want to bother others with that problem. You would feel too awful to even think of asking. You'd put on some weight due to the late nights and long hours working, so you didn't have as much time to prepare proper or healthy meals, which of course meant you had been snacking on the go. You'd overheard a few of your coworkers make some unkind comments on your weight and how "unkempt" you seemed as of late, whilst they finished early and had a dual income, so they didn't understand. But that had given your demons some fuel to get to work.

You were one of the very first people in and one of the last out. You had finished late every night for the last two weeks, running on caffeine, instant foods, and fumes. You pushed yourself, every day, just to make ends meet and it still didn't seem enough. You had almost fallen asleep a few times at your desk and had to down an energy drink or hurriedly drink coffee to stay awake.

You also had slacked on the household chores, which meant things were more messy and disorganised than you liked. It meant everything felt chaotic. It made things difficult to find when you were rushing around and late. You also felt like your relationship was suffering because of it, which just added the final nail in the coffin. Plus, your boyfriend seemed to be ignoring you as of late. So everything was just too much.

It was finally the weekend. You finally had some days off to do what was neglected through the weeks. You thought you'd start off easy, you did the mounds of laundry that needed washing. But the whole time, you were mentally berating yourself for not doing it sooner. You next cleaned the kitchen, mopping the floor and disinfecting the surfaces. Which is then followed by the living room and dining room. But, again, you just kept thinking about how gross and lazy you were, punishing yourself for not taking care of it.

You were doing mental hoops of insults, all the while making your mood worse and throwing you further into a pit of depression. You spent the whole of Saturday cleaning, putting away, and sorting your solo home out. You wanted to do nothing more than relax, but your brain kept saying how you didn't deserve rest or to relax until everything you'd neglected was completed. You hated it, which made you hate yourself.

It took you 5 hours to do everything. It took all of your energy to force yourself back upstairs afterwards. You still had more to do up there, so you got to it. You sat down on the floor where you had set out the weeks' worth of piles and piles of laundry to put away, but you quickly got frustrated and overstimulated with exhaustion. You just wanted a nap, things to be easier, and to stay on top of things. Was that so much to ask for? Apparently.

The tears began falling and refused to stop. Weeks of pent-up and pushed-down emotions had finally caught up to you and erupted. You were sobbing, loudly and hysterically, as you curled in on yourself and fisted the laundry in your hands. You were tired, so fucking tired. Of everything. You just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a while. You knew it wasn't healthy, this lifestyle that was taking absolutely everything out of you, but you didn't know what to do or how to break the cycle to give yourself some reprieve.

But here you were. The fumes that were running on nothingness had finally caved in under the mass of enervations and pressure. You weren't sure how long you sat there wailing and sobbing out your frustrations and complete exhaustion, just holding yourself and pulling at your hair. Your phone had vibrated multiple times in a short period but you just couldn't physically move, you couldn't do anything but weep to your heart's content. Not that you could look at your phone anyway, your vision was blurry from the constant stream of tears.

At some point, you hear the door open and footsteps coming up. Coming straight in your direction. You knew you had never unlocked the door from last night when you came home late. And only one person had a key to your place, your boyfriend. You watched with teary vision as he came around the doorway and walked towards you, pushing the laundry out of the way so he could kneel in front of you.

"W-what are y-you doing h-here?" You gasped out, whimpering about him seeing you in such a state of disarray and collapse. He had never seen you have a breakdown before, he'd naturally seen you cry, but not this bad.

"You butt-dialled me, sweetheart. I was so worried and stressed out that you wouldn't answer me and just kept sobbing. I dropped everything and came straight here. Think I broke multiple speeding laws to get here." He breathlessly chuckles as you giggle sadly through your tears, an accidental whimper following. You feel his hands gently grab your face to look at him.

"Talk to me, my love. What's wrong? Do I need to kill someone for you?" He half-jokes, a look of pure worry filling his beautiful features. You shake your head in his hands as you reach up to grasp his wrists in your palms to ground yourself.

You tearily explained everything to him, spilling all your stresses and worries to the man you love. You knew he wouldn't ever judge you or invalidate your feelings, so you felt comfortable laying everything out for him. He listened, hooked on every word, and patiently worked with you. All while stroking your face lovingly.

Once you were done, you sobbed once more. All the emotions pouring out of you in one go. He made you feel safe and gave you a space to be vulnerable and transparent with him. That was irreplaceable.

He wordlessly pulled you into his lap, manoeuvring you where he wanted you. You just let him, ending up with your face in the crook of his neck and straddling his lap. You immediately latched onto him, wrapping your arms around any part of you could, your hands fisting his clothing for dear life. He stayed there for some time, comforting you with sweet words and back rubs, until you calmed down enough. He was patient and kind, giving you everything you needed.

He eventually picked you up with him as he stood, not once releasing you and walked to your bathroom. He started the water, letting it warm up as he placed you down on the floor. He undressed you slowly, placing feathery kisses in the pattern and traces of where his hands once were on each and every inch of exposed skin, all the while adorning you with compliments and telling you how much he loves you. You were now crying for a completely different reason, but much less aggressively.

Once he finished his worshipping of your body, he undressed himself, discarding both of your clothes in the hamper. (So thoughtful). He then helped you into the shower, following closely behind, and proceeded to wash and massage every bit of you. He completely pampered and worshipped you, from your hair down to your toes. He took his time, being the most gentle and soft that he had ever been with you or anything in his entire life. He made all your stress and worries melt away. He allowed you to wash and tend to him in return after a lot of convincing, expressing you wanted to and it would make you feel better.

You worshipped him in return, not wanting to make everything about you. Especially with how well he was treating you, he always did, but he was extra attentive tonight to help meet your needs.

Once you were both done in the shower, he dried you and carried you into the bedroom. He spent the next hour on top of you and in between your legs. Being slow, affectionate, and gentle. His lips kissed every inch of skin he could while making love to you, wanting to express every bit of his emotions he could to you. You received mindblowing orgasm after orgasm, all while your hands stayed intertwined. And afterwards, you fell asleep on his chest with one of his arms wrapped around you and the other stroking your hair.

You were awoken the next morning with breakfast in bed from your favourite breakfast place, your favourite flowers and a fully cleaned home. Which of course made you cry again but from happy tears. You spent the afternoon in bed, making love and enjoying the calm and happy mood.

By the end of the following week, he was fully moved into your place, after a few months of dating. He made you cut down on your work hours, claiming to handle everything and helped you to keep on top of anything that needed doing. You were so thankful he was yours and didn't know how you would ever repay him.

(Multi) I had Simon, John, Johnny, Gaz, Gojo, Geto, Megumi, Nanami, Marc, Eddie, and Steve, in mind while writing this.