saeish

[saeish]

babysitter & price ♡

— just a drabble which i'm not rlly proud of tbh but i wanted to write smth and i cldn't stop thinking ab this :(

sometimes price couldn't help but treat you as he would a wife. his wife. he thinks that he wouldn't ever wish for anything more than what could likely never come true. but on days such as these, where he gets to come home early to you and his baby so naturally stuck together he lets his mind wander to making you a mother. the mother of all his children, swollen and full of his babies.

today of all days he lets his imagination get carried away when you arrived, the blithe summer sun prompting you to dress in a sweet little sundress. his teething baby all fussy for you, the discomfort palpable in your frame at the potential affliction his usually sweet child was going through. refusing to leave your side as you did everything in your power to soothe his irritable child.

the sun was well below the horizon when the cries and your soft coos to placate quieted, he stood before you and the baby whose face pressed tightly on your chest, rubbing softly on her little back, her breathing evening out, tears rubbed clean from her soft baby cheeks as you rest her down on her crib.

he leads you out of her bedroom with a hand rested on your lower back, maybe a tad too close to your ass yet at these late hours of the night he could pretend. he could pretend you were his perfect wife, and for your sake he could pass it off as a mistake of his tired subconscious.

"sweetheart, would you come sit with me for a minute?"

he knows you worry for the baby especially when she's in such a state. all he wanted to do was reassure you, console your glum disposition at the seemingly distressing situation.

he couldn't account for getting carried away, caging you in as he flips the skirt of your sundress up to expose your panty-clad cunt. your gasp and cries doing little to cease his actions, only provoking him more.

"m-mr. price this is wrong!"

yet he could see little reason, eyes fixated on the little bow adorning your panties as if your pussy was a gift just for him. pushing your panties to the side, to expose your soft folds. he grunts softly in approval as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt.

"most perfect little pussy for daddy hm?"

petting softly over your hardened clit and running his fingers through your weeping slit. teasing over your little hole, as you sobbed softly in his firm hold. spitting on your clit and letting it run down your hole so he could fit his too big fingers in your tight pussy, prepping it.

"cutest little hole for my cock."

mewling as he scissored his fingers inside your little hole, your now slick heat trapping his fingers when he attempts to slide them out.

"sweet girl doesn't wanna let go of daddy's fingers huh?"

the feel of the blunt head of his cock as he mounts you, keeping his hold on you tight on your hips. situating your legs on his shoulders, as he sinks his cock all the way in your tight pussy.

"gonna fill her up with my cum baby, gonna look so pretty bouncing on my cock swollen with my baby."

"g'nna make you my wife yeah? make this cute messy pussy all mine."

his eyes locking in on the stretch of your pussy around his cock, the ring of cream on his base, the sticky kisses of your clit and his pelvis when he thrusts deep.

one hand of his now slipping down to rub fervently at your clit to make you reach your peak.

"go on sweetheart, cum on it baby, cum on daddy's cock."

your little squirts now wetting his thighs and abs, you could feel the twitch of his cock with every clench of your release.

"that's cute baby, 'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up, g'nna make you take it sweetheart."

the warmth filling you was proof enough that he was determined to do just as he's said. as well as the ring that adorns your fingers when you wake from your slumber still in his compelling hold.

[saeish]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.

[saeish]

Been thinking abt retired price a lot

Outside doing yard work, all but barking at you to stay your ass inside cause he’s got it.

Perching up behind him on the couch to rub his shoulders, joints aching because military service and age seem to be worse on certain days.

If you still work, John will grumble every few days about how “you don’t need to work love, can take care of ya.” Which you know and assure him of that as you kiss him while getting out of bed. He’ll sit in the bathroom as you get ready, make you your preferred morning drink and maybe even pack your lunch.

“John you don’t need to-“

“Least I can do, not jus’ gonna sit around and let my pretty wife have a million things to do.”

Grumbles about gaining weight every time you make a meal, which is most nights. Seeing John a bit softer around the edges puts your mind at ease. It’s not often he gets strung up on how he’s not as cut as he used to be, but when he does you spend a few hours assuring him with kisses and then some that, “Love the way you look John- part of the whole marriage plan I had actually. Needed a nice body pillow.” Which earns a chuckle, before you’re bouncing in his lap murmuring how much you adore him and like treating him well.

Being the host for the get together dinners John drags the 141 into. An excuse to see his boys again, and an excuse to show off the pretty thing he gets to see everyday.

[saeish]

tap out. pt ii.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team—his family—sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[saeish]

‘Really really weird request, I know’

‘But could you please pick up a pregnancy test or two on your way home?’

‘I’ll explain when you’re here xx’

Gaz and Soap’s heads turn towards the sound of their Lieutenant dropping his phone to the floor.

“All good there, LT?” Gaz asks, watching as Ghost stands apparently stupefied to the spot where he stands, still staring at his empty hand where his phone had been.

“Look like you’ve seen a Ghost.” The Scot snickers to himself, earning an eye roll and a half-hearted swat to the chest from his fellow Sergeant.

Ghost finally snaps himself out of his shocked daze, grabbing his phone off the ground and silently sprinting out the door in the blink of an eye.

By the time he’s made it to his front door, a shopping bag carrying two of each brand of pregnancy test he could find at the closest shop dangling from his fist, Ghost is scrambling to get his key in the lock and find you wherever you are in the flat.

The normally ever so stoic man finds himself struggling with the mundane task, his mind in a frenzy over the idea of there being a baby inside you. A baby he put inside you.

It seems you’ve been just as eager for his return home, because you hear him at the door, unlocking and swinging it open for him.

“Oh thank god you’re here. She’s been a wreck all morning, hasn’t let me leave her to run to the shop myself.” You blabber, standing up on your tippy toes to quickly press a kiss to his still mask covered cheek, snatching the bag from his hand at the same time.

He is standing there stunned, when he spots who he recognizes as your best friend sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by wadded up tissues, obviously appearing as though she had just been crying.

“What-”

“She’s worried it’s her ex boyfriend. From before they had broken up.” You whisper quickly in his ear, thinking that you’re simply catching him up to speed as to why he had to go and fetch a test for your friend to use.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve turned Simon’s world upside down for the second time today, all in less than a half hour.

As he watches you walk towards your friend with the dozens of tests in hand, he wonders if he can’t stash away a few for the two of you to put to use yourselves.

[saeish]

simon riley who is a walking contradiction.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you” except his hips piston into you at such a quickened but deep angle as his arms trap you between the sheets in an undoubtedly possessive manner as if he was to go absolute insane if you were to ever leave him or even dared having such a thought like that.

it reminded you of that ‘bastard from your workplace’ who had offered you an evening out to dinner to discuss ‘work matters’ one friday night, simon would glare at you across the room leaning on the door frame in the process of your getting ready in a way that if any stranger was to witness such a glare they would of sworn he was your enemy “where ya going looking like that pretty girl?”. eventually you found out your coworker was trying to take you home to his and get into your pants. that day you came home to a pissed off simon blaming himself for letting you go, he’d already seen through the idiots plan - call it common sense but it was definitely part of the forward thinking he’d developed from time in the military. “stop getting yourself involved with miserable blokes who don’t even know a thing or two about how to treat a woman proper dove” his fingers delicately remove your necklace lightly tracing your neck with one rough finger. it took a lot trying to convince simon to let the situation go.

simon riley who always reminds you of the analogy he tends to make whenever he notices you get a bit too clingy. “ just a weed that happen’ to be kept alive beside a pretty flower”, you continue kissing down from his jaw to neck practically inhaling his musk in attempt to have it instilled into your senses. his words just end up falling on deaf ears every single time.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you”, except he accepts the hand crafted bracelet you give him as you say quietly: “you don’t have to wear it, i just thought it would be a nice memory of us when you’re deployed”. he’s brought back to a point in time when you asked what his favourite colour as you run off in suspicion after getting your answer. now he looks down at the bead combination of your favourite colour with his closely inspecting the thing. you begin to mistake his intense stare at the bracelet as a disinterested one causing you to immediately withdraw your hand back muttering how you knew it was a silly idea, however a quicker gloved hand gets a hold of yours as he snatches the bracelet from your hand without thought. “sorry dove i ain’t mean it like that i’ve just never been gifted such a thing like this before, i really do appreciate it. it’s not silly at all.” moments after your wrists are engulfed by simon’s hands on the sheets as the bracelet adorns his own wrists. “better not hear news that you let some bastard in your panties when i’m gone, ya hear love?” you hastily nod as you throw your head back in ecstasy to then pull simon down to indulge in a deep kiss.

simon riley who feels it necessary to firmly claim you as his in front of his fellow task 141 members to avoid them making jokes about stealing his “pretty thing away from him”. oh how he regrets so deeply the time when he accidentally revealed a picture he took of you that one time you were in your pretty yellow sundress; it was something simon just couldn’t let go of or else it would of been gone in a blink of an eye so he decided to take a picture. as much as you hated being caught off guard in pictures simon’s photo was different, he managed to capture a radiant smile that was enhanced by that sundress you wore that day. such a prized possession reached the eyes of people that weren’t him. his intentions to show them pictures of the enemy base sight took a turn when in the middle of his swiping the men would catch a glimpse of your picture. “pretty lass you haven’t introduced us to yet?” johnny raises his brow with a wide grin on his face. “is she your missus? didn’t know you were into young women like her”, price lets out a chuckle and lightly elbows simon. “better shut your bloody mouths”. now they get a glimpse of your bracelet as it falls down from his wrist to his lower hand but none of them dare to say an inch. shit, and you were debating on how long the string should be and stuck with the smaller side of the scale. “did ya see the thing?” price mutters to johnny, “eh, what are you on about?” “the bracelet ya knob!”. johnny gives him an expression of sudden realisation letting out a long ’ahhhh’. “I know it ain’t one that you can get from ya local jewelry shop down the road, it’s definitely from the missus he still ain’t tellin us about”. “you guys are still going on about simon’s mystery woman?” kyle walks into the mess room shaking his head, “you know how simon will react if he catches you guys talking about her.” johnny gets off of his chair slapping a hand against the table, “oi we weren’t talking about his bonnie lass in particular but we were actually-

simon walks into the room with a flat expression on his face causing complete silence among the men way too quickly. “oi is there a problem?”

simon riley who eventually returns at the end of his deployment with the belief that no one was at home waiting for him anyways except to his irony you were there patiently waiting for him the whole time, waiting to welcome him back and accept him in such comforting arms. when he’s finally in your hold you urge him to stop his bluffs, stop all the pushing and insisting you to stay as far away from him as possible and you finally finally tell him you don’t care about whatever terrible thing he could possibly be in comparison to you, you just want to be able to hold him and truly declare that “you’re the only one worthy of me and you’ll always be the only one worthy of me”.

requests always open ･:*

[saeish]

sergeant whiskers [part three] pairing: simon riley x gn!reader summary: whiskey goes missing (not really) part two | masterlist

“simon, i can’t find whiskey.”

simon is on his feet and ducking out of the room the moment he hears the panic in your voice. “where did you last see her?” he asks into the phone. he’s hoping the calmness in his tone will help ease your anxiety.

it doesn’t. he has no idea that you’ve gotten yourself worked up a long time ago, and the only thing that’ll work is locating sergeant whiskers.

“she was in the kitchen with me earlier when i gave her some fresh water and fixed myself a snack,” he hears you explain. your voice is full of worry as you try to remember where your baby was before you lost sight of her.

“and after that?” he asks softly.

“living room, but then i don’t know where she went after that.” there’s silence on the other end, then he hears you sigh and say, “i can’t believe i lost her.”

simon coos at you, hoping you’ll settle. “you didn’t lose her. she’s just hidin’, sweetheart.”

he thinks sarge is probably watching you lose your mind over her disappearance.

“but she’s so small and i’ve looked everywhere!”

simon leans against the wall just outside of the room where his team is in the middle of a debrief. he really wishes he was home with you and the cat instead. unfortunately, he’ll be stuck on base for the rest of the week. so he gives you a list of sergeant whiskers’ possible hiding spots, to which you tell him you’ve already searched those places.

“check again, love. she’s in there somewhere. if she’d snuck outside, you would know.”

she would have been yowling and scratching at the door immediately after her escape. the little rascal hates the outdoors.

simon listens in amusement as you huff, but you do as you’re told. you apologize for calling him while he’s at work, but he just tells you that it’s okay. simon gives you a soft i love you and bids you farewell after you promise to text him when whiskey is found.

back at home, you’re still riddled with worry. you haven’t seen your little furball since she attacked your feet while you were lounging on the couch. you’d searched all over the house, but she was nowhere to be found. and if it wasn’t for simon, you’d still be panicking right now.

you sat your phone down on the counter with a sigh, before leaving the kitchen in search of the cat. you check every inch of the house, calling out to sergeant whiskers as you went. she wasn’t in your office, and nor was she in the sun room. you check the closets and the spare bedroom you’ve been using for storage, but come up with nothing.

you make your way upstairs to search the guest bedroom. you get down on your knees to look under the bed. no whiskey, but you do find one of her favorite noisy balls.

when you enter your bedroom, you give the ball an experimental shake, before shaking it with a purpose and belting out the cat’s name. and it’s like a siren’s call when you hear a soft meow coming from the closet. your eyebrows shoot up at the sound in disbelief because there is absolutely no way she’s been in simon’s closet this entire time and you didn’t know. that was one of the very first places you’d checked.

with an exasperated huff, you inch towards the closet and flick the light on just to see sergeant whiskers crawling from where she’d been tucked in the corner of the closet behind simon’s shoes.

“whiskey!” you gasp, while watching her stretch as she sinks her claws into the carpet.

big green eyes shift from the ball in your hand and up to you. sergeant whiskers gives you another soft meow and a slow blink, before you move to scoop her up into your arms, the ball completely forgotten as it slips from your hand and hits the floor. you hold the cat away from your body with your brows raised. “i’ve been looking all over for you, little girl!”

she makes a noise as if to say ‘really?’, before she starts purring.

“you had me worried sick, you know. i even called daddy in a panic while he was at work,” you say softly as you carry her out of the closet and over to the bed, where you set her down before getting comfortable yourself.

sergeant whiskers let out a cute little chitter, before she rubbing up against your side affectionately, her tail thumping softly against your body. you laugh at the way she goes limp when you stroke a hand down her spine. she presses her wet nose against your hand when you draw back a little.

“i’ll give you more love later. it’s time for dinner, baby.”

you snort when she doesn’t acknowledge you at all. she hops right off the bed and prances out of the room. there is no doubt in your mind about where the little furball is off to. one mention of food and she’s not even worried about you anymore.

after you feed sergeant whiskers, you get yourself fed and text simon like you promised. you do your usual routine of washing the dishes and finding something on the tv for you and the cat to watch. you pick her favorite wildlife channel of course.

the memory of sergeant whiskers’ very first interaction with the tv was comical. at the time, you thought simon was going to have a heart attack when the cat climbed onto the tv stand and started batting her paw at a bird she saw on the screen.

“she’s just curious, si.” you’d told him, while stifling your laughter when he started hissing for the cat to get off of his precious tv. you’d laughed outright when she paid him no mind.

simon had grumbled of course. but he relaxed eventually, when the cat hopped down and sat on the floor in front in front of the tv, her big green eyes staring at the screen in wonder.

sergeant whiskers became a big fan of nature and wildlife channels fairly quickly. simon had been surprised one day when he slipped out of the room, then came back to see the cat still watching tv in the same spot he’d left her in.

you shift your gaze to the cat from where she lay next to you on the couch, and sure enough, the tv has her undivided attention. she doesn’t even react when you reach out to gently poke her in the side.

“you’re just like daddy when he watches his sports,” you mutter, before turning towards the tv.

after your mention of simon, your mind drifts. you wonder how your husband is faring without you and sergeant whiskers.

you don’t have to wonder long though. the week goes by quickly. you keep yourself occupied by doing errands and working in the garden. you also work on coaxing the cat out into the backyard. sergeant whiskers wasn’t having any of it though. so you don’t even put up a fuss when she chooses to sit at the door instead.

simon comes home sunday afternoon. he’s barely in the door when the cat attaches herself to him. she’s meowing loudly and circling his legs when you reach the foyer.

“how are my sweethearts doin’?” your husband croons as soon as he sees you.

you bend down to pick the cat up so simon can pull both of you into his arms. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then shares a nuzzle with sergeant whiskers, before he sets her down onto the floor.

“we’re fine. we’ve missed you, si,” you reply, a pretty smile gracing your lips when simon grins.

“oh yeah? how much?” amber eyes drink you in while he slides his big hands over your hips.

you let out a breathless laugh when he tugs you closer and dips his head, gasping when his soft lips presses against yours. the kiss makes you a little dizzy.

“missed you,” simon murmurs softly before pressing his forehead against yours. “couldn’t wait to get home.”

the moment ends when the cat lets out a soft yowl, making both of you look down at her. she stares up at the both of you innocently, but you know she just wants your attention.

she meows softly, then purrs when you pick her back up and cradle her little furry body in your arms.

“heard you’d gone missin’,” simon tells her with a look of amusement, while he scratches her behind the ears. “you never told me how you found her.”

“i shook one of the balls i found,” you explain dryly, before rolling your eyes when he laughs.

“well that’s one way to do it, love.”

-

a/n: sorry for the abrupt ending, this was barely edited. hope you enjoyed it

[saeish]

simon riley has a home, not a particularly big house in quiet neighborhood, a place where he doesn't wears his gear and doesn't has a knife pocketed at his thigh, where he doesn't hides under another identity, remaining just simon, a sated man with a sweet wife and a chubby baby at his hip, a civilian life he's so desperately tried to seek and that you gifted him.

home with a bright, spacious kitchen where you stood each morning together, with simon's hefty form cloaking you from behind, thick hands trailing under the satin of your nightie, bunching the fabric on your front, where you're pressed against the wood of the kitchen counter, your cat walking on top, before meowing lightly and jumping off onto the floor, knowing that it's best for her to leave you two to be, furling into another room through half opened door.

baby sleeping in the crib, peacefully, a soft lulling melody wafting through the chilly air of the room that keeps your girl sleeping tight, door closed slightly to muffle any possible sounds from disturbing her sleep, your mellowy sounds that slip past your parted lips when simon teases his thick fingers against your sopping folds, cupping your warm pussy beneath the cotton of your panties, swiping across your slit and gathering the oozing slick there.

a family, the one simon would protect with everything he has, to keep you, his sweet wife, always by his side, with your pretty finger adorned by the sparkly, wedding ring that matches his, cooling against your swollen clit where he can't stop teasing you, spreading your folds to the morning air, dripping wet and taking every inch of his girthy cock gracefully, spasming around the girth he feeds you, squeezed tight in your thin, gummy walls.

muffling your hiccuping cries, simon's hips bouncing against your ass, squeezed in his rough palm through the fabric of your nightie, fat supple and spilling from his fingers, as his heavy balls press and slap against your folds, drippy with your slick and his tacky precome, matting the tangle of fuzzed curls of hair on his pelvic and meaty thighs, muscles tensing with webbing heat in his soft belly, rolls of skin rubbing against the small of your back, as he folds himself over you.

he kisses the molassed whimpers from your lips with his searing mouth, pummels into your pussy when your gooey walls flutter and clench, rippling, stuffed full of the thick girth that grinds against your small, sens spot and makes you claw painfully at the wood of the counter, simon's hand gathering your wrist, tying them together by his fingers, the same that currently flick across the small bundle of your nerves, swollen, full of pumping blood, when you cry out loud in the soft furl of his lips.

your darling girl still asleep, cat curled against her small form, tail draped over her slowly breathing body and prolonging her sleep, unable to hear the heavy breaths coming out from the kitchen and the breathy giggles simon completes to devour off from your lips, with his clashing teeth's and greedy tongue, despite your panties being sodden and his cum trailing down the underside of your doughy thighs in viscous, glistening globs.

a home, with a smell of fresh breakfast curling and dissolving into the air of the room, as you stand behind the stove, watching the two sizzling pans as simon busies himself in helping your baby brush her teeth, cradling her against his chest, as she babbles groggily, already all over his ears, as he chuckles hoarsely, bundling her against the bend of his elbow, walking back to the kitchen with a cat meowing at his feet, hungry too.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[saeish]

at the beginning of your relationship, simon is not used to physical affection. his body just exists, only being touched by someone else while receiving a friendly bump from soap or while in combat. he's naturally on guard, feeling uncomfortable with people behind him or when they stand too close.

so once you start dating, it doesn't immediately occur to him that he should be touching you sometimes. no hugs when your date ends, no cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, no kisses when it's just the two of you. the actions are unnatural to him, having to teach himself to be okay with touch. and he won't realize it unless you tell him, explaining how one of the things you need in a relationship is to be able to be physically attached.

it's a big learning curve for him to accept it. not that he doesn't like it, or yearn for it even, it's just not anything he was allowed to have. so he flinches, reeling his arm away from you when you grab it to catch his attention, or pulling his knee closer into himself when you brush each other on the couch. and it hurts you, constantly feeling rejected and like he doesn't want you as more than just company. you have to remind yourself it isn't easy for him, but that doesn't make it easier on you.

but oh, does simon yearn for touch. though he may jump and pull away, those small touches mean so much to him. he catches himself thinking about it on his sleepless nights, remembering your touch from earlier and fantasizing about what it'd be like to have you laying next to him right now. to have his head on your chest, huge body tucked against yours, shorter legs entwined with his under the sheets. would you play with his hair? running your fingers through the short blond strands, giving that small tug that could make his eyes roll back?

and although it's a challenge, he works really hard on it with you. beginning to let his knee rest against yours, pulling your hand into his lap to hold, giving you a tight hug before he leaves for the night. he loves the way you get so excited each time, feeling your palms get sweaty when he grabs your hand or your body melting into him when he embraces you. positive association with touch is what he needs, and you give it to him perfectly.

so once he gets comfortable, you can't keep the guy off of you! he's pulling you into him for a wet kiss as soon as you let him in, pushing you into the wall beside your front door because he just can't wait any longer. sometimes he picks you up and carries you around just cause he can, loving the way you squeal and grip onto his shirt as he carries you to bed. si automatically assumes cuddle positioning any time he gets onto the couch, not having to say anything to get you to crawl into his burly arms, holding you there until he decides you can go.

his favorite thing though, is when you touch him. the unexpectedness of it, the feeling of being wanted, desired, needed, he can't get enough. constant butterflies erupt in his stomach when you reach for him, pulling him closer to you because it feels better that way. saying 'i want you close' without words.

poor si nearly passed out the first time you back hugged him, slipping your arms under his shirt to caress the soft pale skin of his tummy. he's ticklish too, so don't push too far or he's going to be throwing you onto the bed for a tickle attack!

it takes him a bit to warm up, but once he does, you'll never go without his touch for too long. so you better not keep your touch from him either, he doesn't take the feeling of rejection from you well. he really is an amazing boyfriend <3

[saeish]

Simon Riley, who hated the way he felt around you, hated the way his heart would practically beat out of his chest whenever you were near.

Simon Riley, who’s palms would sweat anytime you spoke to him, who’s brain would practically turn to mush whenever you glanced in his direction.

Simon Riley, who tried so hard, yet failed miserably to distance himself from you. He couldn’t bear the look of sadness on your face whenever he tried to walk away from you.

Simon Riley, who didn’t understand why he felt a burning rage in his belly when he saw others flirting with you, who didn’t understand why he hated the prospect of you being with anyone on base in that way.

Simon Riley, who had given up distancing himself from you altogether, who had now opted to be around you as much as he could, finding any excuse in the book to be by your side however silly it may have seemed.

Simon Riley, who used to hate sleep, found himself longing for it more, as that was where he could dream of you undisturbed.

Simon Riley, who one night was sitting beside you watching the stars in the sky, when he had the blinding and heart stopping realization…that he loved you.

Simon Riley, who didn’t know how to love, who’d never been taught, was terrified by this realization. By the realization that he unequivocally and undoubtedly, loved you. That he would watch the world burn just to see you smile.

He may not know how to love, may not know how to express it in the right way, or treat you the way he knows you deserve. But fuck, would he learn.

For you, Simon Riley would learn to love.

[saeish]

I’m a sucker for husband and wife fics like ugh 😩

[saeish]

Sfw

Idk biting Simon's jaw while you sit on his lap, his hands loosely holding your waist while he tilts down to let you. His mask lifted up right to his nose because he doesn't want to take it off fully, something of a comfort item.

Its natural how he follows along as your hand grabs his shoulder, pulling him down further as he hunches over you. Forcing himself still as he feels your teeth dig into his jaw harshly, relishing in the pain that makes him forget about, his now dust, cigarettes.

"A little harder", asking gently through that rough voice. Blood in his cheeks and ears while he holds still at your bite. Grumbling that it wasn't hard enough.

"You want me to draw blood?"

"Leave a scar, add onto", something of yours. Something he wants. Something he's decided on, he wants your mouth, your teeth, your words and lies passing through your lips but teeth. He wants those sharp canines of yours in his jaw. No matter how blunt or sharp, just something of yours before his skin forgets. It's just another scar on his skin.

"I won't stop."

"Copy that."

××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××

[saeish]

Thinking about Simon having a tattoo on his left lower hip when you two start drunkenly making out on your bunk. He's lifting his shirt above his head and you're shimmying out of your skirt. You're happily getting on your knees to unbuckle his jeans, sliding off his briefs as well.

The green little ink catches your eye and you pause for a moment to inspect it. "Is that a tattoo?"

He's leaning back on his elbows, dark brown eyes fixating on your sexy topless figure. "What of it?"

You scoff. "Four-leafed clover, eh?"

"Yeah," He takes a swig of the water bottle that sits on your nightstand. "'means you're lucky to even get this far."

You scoff again as he chuckles, but it's cut off by the pleasuring feeling of your tongue swiping across the inked skin. He shudders as you swirls over it, sucking his hip bone, and his fingers thread though your hair.

But you pull away too quick for his liking. "Lil minx." He mutters as he watches you get up from the ground.

You giggle at his flushed cheeks, but it ends with you squealing as he pulls you on top of him, giving your ass a little squeeze. "You won't get away with teasin' me like tha'"

[saeish]

Nanami is more of a listener than a talker, and would happily listen to you ramble on and on about anything that would pop into your mind. And no matter how little it really concerns him, he’ll always pay attention to when you explain something so enthusiastically — even if it’s a silly internet trend or drama.

Nanami is definitely not the guy to have TikTok, but would on occasion lift his attention from his book when you’re both laying in bed to quietly watch along for a few minutes.

Nanami is not the type of guy to really form any defining opinion on said internet controversies — except the videos of grooms disrespecting their brides at the alter in their vows. When you tell him about the men who only spew vulgar statements to their future wives, you witness Nanami get incredibly angry, going on a long and serious tangent about how these boys are immature and have no business getting married at all.

Nanami is the type of guy who would spontaneously pull you out of the chair in the calm hours of the evening to slow dance with you around the living room. Sometimes he’d put on some calm and beautiful melodies to play in the background, but sometimes he would just slow waltz without the music, casual chatter filling the void instead.

Nanami is the type of guy who’d pull your feet in his lap to massage them after a long day, without you asking for it.

Nanami is the type of guy who looooves to cook for you, and he does it as often as he possibly can. And when he does, he loves to feed you small bites during the process for you to taste everything.

Nanami is, of course, a respectable man — meaning he doesn’t engage all that much in pda. But he’ll happily walk beside you with your fingers intertwined with his, or he’ll have a tender hand on the small of your back to guide you when has to let go.

Nanami however, has one physical need and that is kissing the back of your hand, which he will do wherever and whenever. Walking the grocery store; lift your hand to his lips. Meeting up for lunch; lift your hand to his lips. Waiting in line for a restaurant; lift your hand to his lips.

Nanami is the type of guy that would love being a girl’s dad. It would be the highlight of his day to come home from work, only to squeeze into one of her small chairs in her bedroom and would put on the most convincing act of sipping tea from the empty cup, a pretty tiara at the very top of his head.

Nanami is the type of guy who would love planning the wedding along with you. He hates the idea of loading all the responsibility on the bride, because he wants to celebrate your love just as much as you do.

Nanami is the type of guy, who once he falls in love, he’s settled.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[saeish]

simon riley who is a walking contradiction.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you” except his hips piston into you at such a quickened but deep angle as his arms trap you between the sheets in an undoubtedly possessive manner as if he was to go absolute insane if you were to ever leave him or even dared having such a thought like that.

it reminded you of that ‘bastard from your workplace’ who had offered you an evening out to dinner to discuss ‘work matters’ one friday night, simon would glare at you across the room leaning on the door frame in the process of your getting ready in a way that if any stranger was to witness such a glare they would of sworn he was your enemy “where ya going looking like that pretty girl?”. eventually you found out your coworker was trying to take you home to his and get into your pants. that day you came home to a pissed off simon blaming himself for letting you go, he’d already seen through the idiots plan - call it common sense but it was definitely part of the forward thinking he’d developed from time in the military. “stop getting yourself involved with miserable blokes who don’t even know a thing or two about how to treat a woman proper dove” his fingers delicately remove your necklace lightly tracing your neck with one rough finger. it took a lot trying to convince simon to let the situation go.

simon riley who always reminds you of the analogy he tends to make whenever he notices you get a bit too clingy. “ just a weed that happen’ to be kept alive beside a pretty flower”, you continue kissing down from his jaw to neck practically inhaling his musk in attempt to have it instilled into your senses. his words just end up falling on deaf ears every single time.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you”, except he accepts the hand crafted bracelet you give him as you say quietly: “you don’t have to wear it, i just thought it would be a nice memory of us when you’re deployed”. he’s brought back to a point in time when you asked what his favourite colour as you run off in suspicion after getting your answer. now he looks down at the bead combination of your favourite colour with his closely inspecting the thing. you begin to mistake his intense stare at the bracelet as a disinterested one causing you to immediately withdraw your hand back muttering how you knew it was a silly idea, however a quicker gloved hand gets a hold of yours as he snatches the bracelet from your hand without thought. “sorry dove i ain’t mean it like that i’ve just never been gifted such a thing like this before, i really do appreciate it. it’s not silly at all.” moments after your wrists are engulfed by simon’s hands on the sheets as the bracelet adorns his own wrists. “better not hear news that you let some bastard in your panties when i’m gone, ya hear love?” you hastily nod as you throw your head back in ecstasy to then pull simon down to indulge in a deep kiss.

simon riley who feels it necessary to firmly claim you as his in front of his fellow task 141 members to avoid them making jokes about stealing his “pretty thing away from him”. oh how he regrets so deeply the time when he accidentally revealed a picture he took of you that one time you were in your pretty yellow sundress; it was something simon just couldn’t let go of or else it would of been gone in a blink of an eye so he decided to take a picture. as much as you hated being caught off guard in pictures simon’s photo was different, he managed to capture a radiant smile that was enhanced by that sundress you wore that day. such a prized possession reached the eyes of people that weren’t him. his intentions to show them pictures of the enemy base sight took a turn when in the middle of his swiping the men would catch a glimpse of your picture. “pretty lass you haven’t introduced us to yet?” johnny raises his brow with a wide grin on his face. “is she your missus? didn’t know you were into young women like her”, price lets out a chuckle and lightly elbows simon. “better shut your bloody mouths”. now they get a glimpse of your bracelet as it falls down from his wrist to his lower hand but none of them dare to say an inch. shit, and you were debating on how long the string should be and stuck with the smaller side of the scale. “did ya see the thing?” price mutters to johnny, “eh, what are you on about?” “the bracelet ya knob!”. johnny gives him an expression of sudden realisation letting out a long ’ahhhh’. “I know it ain’t one that you can get from ya local jewelry shop down the road, it’s definitely from the missus he still ain’t tellin us about”. “you guys are still going on about simon’s mystery woman?” kyle walks into the mess room shaking his head, “you know how simon will react if he catches you guys talking about her.” johnny gets off of his chair slapping a hand against the table, “oi we weren’t talking about his bonnie lass in particular but we were actually-

simon walks into the room with a flat expression on his face causing complete silence among the men way too quickly. ���oi is there a problem?”

simon riley who eventually returns at the end of his deployment with the belief that no one was at home waiting for him anyways except to his irony you were there patiently waiting for him the whole time, waiting to welcome him back and accept him in such comforting arms. when he’s finally in your hold you urge him to stop his bluffs, stop all the pushing and insisting you to stay as far away from him as possible and you finally finally tell him you don’t care about whatever terrible thing he could possibly be in comparison to you, you just want to be able to hold him and truly declare that “you’re the only one worthy of me and you’ll always be the only one worthy of me”.

requests always open ･:*

[saeish]

Men who believe they have every inch of self control and composure when it comes to all matters. but they’re soon met with denial when you decide to play a silly game, there’s no harm in it anyways; you’d convince yourself brushing off any thought of doubt that’d been brought up as you continued to strut into the kitchen wearing the tank top that barely even reached your bellybutton while the only thing at your lower half of your body were the lace white panties once gifted by your beloved; you’d express appreciation at the time with a “thank you daddy”, an innocent smile plastered on your face. now you plan on pushing his buttons till he gave into your teasing ways. surely having him give in would shatter a part of his ego, it was something you were itching to see.

“what are you up to?” he doesn’t spare you a look, not even a short glance to the side. he ignores your question immediately suspicious of how he was able to get a glimpse of your bare skin through the corner of his eyes, you’d usually find yourself enclosed in his lap complaining about the cold weather while being wrapped in his overwhelmingly mass of clothing or how you’d babble about how much you’d hated winter. “what are you up to now?”, he exhales heavily flipping the next page of the newspaper he was heavily engrossed in. unsatisfied by his lack of attention, you lean against the kitchen counter raising your hands towards your face pouting tits clearly visible now. “you’re so mean - so so mean”. you whine and pout deciding to walk around the kitchen counter to where he was sat, you wrap both arms around him peering at the content of the newspaper before you were soon looking away disinterested.

“what do you want? I don’t have time for your games”, his stern tone still doesn’t get to your head. “hm nothing, just feel like you’re not paying much attention to me...”

attention?

you were acting like he didn’t fuck you first thing in the morning after you’d been grinding on his boner practically pleading for him to use you. “whatever just go do something reasonable.” he shakes his head with faux disappointment among his stoic persona.

you huff in dissatisfaction as you decide to proceed with your silly game.

“you know I’ve always wondered…” you shamelessly purr into his ear mindlessly staring at his blocked piercing- it was a subtle reminder of his once young self who was active in marking his body; a switch up to now where his prime motives were to mark you. why don’t you use all that wondering to figure out something to do”, he says slightly jerking his head away not falling so quick into your ways. you knew simple seduction wasn’t a thing he’d instantly fall for, you needed that one something that would let the spark off and you knew exactly what.“what’s up with you these days?” oh you’ve got his attention now. his eyes finally look up at you wearing an expression you’re too familiar with - the expression he gives you when you attempt to push him away while he’s in the middle of ramming into you. “and what do you mean by that?”

“what i’m saying is you’ve been lacking stamina when we fuck, you never seem to be able to keep up anymore.”

“what’s up gramps?”

oh the audacity you had, whether fact or fiction it pissed him off terribly. “the fuck you say?” you push a bit further ignoring the look he gives you, “you’re deaf too? double faulty.”

you did your damage and you did it well. to say he was pissed would have been an understatement, oh how the broken piece of his ego would show when he turned you into an absolute wreck; you were mindlessly reaching for everything including him eyes weeping into the pillow as you drool nonstop. he taps your check chuckling at the mess you make on the pillow as his hand slithers to your shoulder to push you into his chest, you refuse to acknowledge when he whispers in your ear, he knows you’re not purposely ignoring him you’re just out of it and he is more than aware. “nuh uh you’re not giving up on me now are you sweetheart?, come back to me, say i’ve been lacking stamina, no? we’ll find out if that’s true.”

that day you found out even uttering a word about his stamina would leave you in an embarrassing state in front of him - your words would be swallowed as you struggle to continuously take him. unless you wanted to be turned into a state worse than oblivion, you never dared to again.

kishibe, nanami, benimaru, kishibe, toji, ukai, shanks, stein, geto, kishibe, shunsui, takeomi, reiner + your fav

[saeish]

PRACTICE PLUSHIE - [ITOSHI RIN]

“Please Rin just for this once”.

Rin sends your cute plushie flying with a harsh hit, it lands on the bed once again as he rolls his eyes irritated at the fact that he was being forced to hold the stuffed round fabric - you’d consider his actions to be out of envy but you knew he would deny it and say it was out of despise. “Rin how could you do that to him! why can’t you just cooperate for a few minutes?” you whine slapping his chest attempting to get him to obey with a frown you know he hates to see on your pretty face. “This is pointless, I don’t see the point in treating an inanimate object as if it was a child.” He’d almost inflicted a sharp pain to your heart. How could he refer to Abo as an inanimate object? The only thing clouding your boyfriend’s mind were the times you’d bring your plushie around him.

He’d think back to days when you decided to join him on the couch, he was welcoming, offering you a space beside him till he spotted his soon enemy in your arms. With a tight hold on Abo, you glee at him finding your spot next to a now bitter Rin. Lets just say he ensured to avoid looking at you when you’d try engage in conversation, it would be a bother having to explain his heavy puffs and the times he’d run his hands through his hair cutting his eyes at the innocent thing.

Now he’s almost held hostage by you; his keen, begging girlfriend desperate for him just to hold Abo. Pleading with nearing tears in your eyes, you almost make the cold Itoshi give in instantly almost. Instead, he’s still reluctant with a sulk present on his face still trying to understand how this “thing” of an object managed to steal your attention way quicker than he ever could (although he knew that was not the case he’d been finding more and more excuses as a reason to hate your plushie even more). “I feel as this could be quite beneficial for you actually, you should consider this as practice!”, Rin offers you a blank stare as his confused state makes itself known.

“Huh?” silence fills the room.

“What do you mean by practice?”

You give him an unusual look for the Itoshi making you have to further elaborate on the words that just came out of your mouth. “You know…” averting your eyes, the words start to bunch up like a punching, tight knot in your throat. Rin tilts his head while raising a brow signifying you to finish the sentence.

“What if we were to have a child?”, the words are somehow blurted out in which you wince at some non-existent pain. A smile appears on his face as he dwells upon the fact that only you’d infiltrate such a thing like that with a silly execution. With a surprising loud laughter filling the room you stare at Rin who was now flipped over completely on the couch with a pillow (he’d been mocking the way you’d hold Abo before you walked in) in his arms which to no avail had muted his laughter. “I’m being serious Rin, you’re laughing way too hard!” With tears forming on his lash line, he’s finally able to gain composure and sits up straight again. A sudden pull on your arm gains your attention as you see your boyfriend’s more bulkier one pull you down into his lap.

His voice was now in a lower octave as he gently rests his head upon your bare shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about things like that now, the time will come when it comes. Plus, do you believe I’d be that bad of a parent? I see now, maybe you’d been using that plushie of your as some kind of mechanism to punish me, you know I never-

“Rin.” He goes silent with a blank expression at the sudden sharp cut off. “I can’t wait, I can’t wait to have a cute baby with you, I can’t wait for us to do all sorts” A warm smile appears on his face correlating to the warm felling residing in his stomach. Soft lips connect to your forehead feeling his grip naturally tighten the hold on you. Rin literally, like literally cannot wait, but he knows the results that would come with waiting so he wouldn’t mind the smallest bit. You’re overwhelmed with the multiple more kisses he gives you, you attempt to push him away giggling becoming more and more ticklish by the slightest touch. Rin’s eyes avert to a forgotten Abo who’d been left lying on his face clearly neglected by you. “Hey, go get Abo.” Scarily a wave of guilt washes over Rin seeing the once declared ‘inanimate object’ suddenly be neglected by you due to all the attention you were giving him, you’d immediately crawl across the crouch clutching your plushie in your hands hurriedly returning back to his lap. You give him a judging look before getting back in your previous position brushing it off. “In clarity I’d never choose anything else over you, not even when it comes to my cutest plushie.” “I know you wouldn’t dummy, why would I think that.” You carry on with the day fully aware that it was exactly what he thought, those glares didn’t go unnoticed either.

But maybe he’d be able to keep put with your plushie for the time being in the benefit of keeping you hopeful about what’s soon to come.