Whisky. Cigars. Dark chocolate if he’s feeling wild.
Lie.
This man will demolish a Victoria sponge at speed.
You discover it during tea. There’s a cake on the table, meant to last a few days.
It lasts a few hours.
You walk in on him cutting “just a sliver.”
The sliver is criminal.
He clears his throat. “Morale.”
“You said you didn’t like overly sweet things.”
He gestures vaguely. “Balanced.”
It is not balanced. It is aggressively frosted.
From then on, you clock it. The way he always reaches for the jam first. The way his tea gets one extra sugar when he thinks no one’s watching. The way he breaks off pieces of biscuit absentmindedly during briefings.
So one night you bake something simple. Lemon drizzle. Nothing flashy.
You leave it out without a word.
He finds it. Of course he does.
There’s something almost boyish about the way he tastes it. Eyebrows lifting slightly.
the pregnant reader thing is soooo cute!!! can we have more of that?
* ☽₊ ⋆₊𖤐 bby dad! Simon ⋆𖤐˚₊ * ☽₊
✰ꕥꕥꕥ new daddy simon ꕥꕥꕥ✰
HIII YES BBBB and thank uuuu
🍼 Simon who has seen suffering and violence throughout his life almost faints when he sees his beautiful wife in such pain during labour
🍼 Simon who holds your hand through the entire time, not caring if your nails are hurting him whatsoever
🍼 Simon who cries when he sees his baby daughter the first time, cutting the umbilical cord off
🍼 Simon who installs heavy security before you come home.
🍼 Simon who is very careful driving home and making the car comfortable for you and your baby girl by putting a warm comforter, food for you and a little stuffed rabbit for his daughter.
🍼 Simon who takes care of his baby girl so delicately, her little body on the palm of his hand as he holds her close to his heart.
🍼 Simon who gives her all the kisses the minute he gets the chance
🍼 Simon who swears to protect his family till the end of time and never letting anything bad happen to you, not like what happened in his past.
🍼 Simon who calms his daughter down while you’re asleep because he doesn’t want you to overexert yourself by taking care of her.
🍼 Simon who does the housework because he doesn’t want you to be more stressed
🍼 Simon who buys you chocolates, rings, stuffies whatever you want because he’s so grateful for you because you gave him a second chance in life
“Tell me. Where is he?” König snarled as he leaned in close to his captive.
“I’m not telling you anything,” the poor victim sniffed and turned away defiantly.
“Do not hide for him, girl,” König sneered, “it will make things worse for both of you.”
She shivered, but held strong against the giant man before her.
“We didn’t do anything! This is just a big mistake” the captive whined as she struggled against his hold on her.
“Oh it's a mistake alright,” König rolled his eyes before locking eyes on his prey.
“Let me go!”
“I will when you tell me why the kitchen floor is covered in flour and chocolate milk.”
König’s daughter looked up into her father’s eyes, blue matching blue for a painstakingly long moment before she huffed and turned her head away.
“I didn’t do it,” she snipped.
“I didn’t think so,” König nodded along, “there were no stools.”
“So you know it wasn’t me,” Holly relaxed in her father’s hold.
“Of course,” König reassured her gently, “I know it was your brothers. I saw their footprints in the flour.”
“I told them they should’ve covered their tracks,” Holly mused, squeaking when she realized what she said.
“So you were helping them?” König’s eyes sharpened, “kleine Rotznase!”
“I just told them to clean it! I didn’t try to make the cookies!”
“So you were making cookies, ja?” König chuckled darkly, “and you thought you were going to try and sneak this by me?”
Holly winced, but she stood strong under her father’s withering glare.
“Kinda?” she shrugged helplessly.
König sighed and let his daughter go. He ruffled her hair softly as he muttered a curse under his breath before turning back to the war zone that had made its way into the kitchen. Holly scurried away as fast as she could, most likely warning her brothers, the little snitch. König listened to her feet pitter-patter up the stairs before predictably hurrying over to her brothers’ rooms. He’d need to deal with her later.
He sighed and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen when you came up to him.
“What happened here?” you asked as you took in the utter state of your kitchen.
“Apparently die Kinder wanted to make some cookies,” König grumbled bitterly.
“Couldn’t they have waited until I got home?” you sighed as you put the groceries on the only clean spot on the counter.
König walked up behind you and hung his body over you, making you stumble a bit under the sudden weight.
“You’re so heavy,” you huffed, “have you been to the gym lately?”
König huffed , "That's why I'm heavy."
Thankfully, he relented with a tender kiss to your cheek and dragged himself off of you to give you some space to relax and take in just what you’d stumbled into. You let yourself rest back in his arms with a hum.
“So, should we get to cleaning?” you asked tiredly.
“Nein,” König growled, “they will clean it.”
“Have you figured out the culprit?” you looked up at your husband.
“Somewhat,” König spat, “they’re colluding against me. Me! Their father!”
“You’re also the one who’s trying to deal out a punishment,” you pointed out.
König grumbled as he pulled away to get a better look at the mayhem your children had let loose upon the kitchen. Wordlessly, he threw up his hands before looking back at you.
“How’d they even get the time to do this?” you asked.
“I was reading a story to the baby,” König explained.
You nodded and walked up beside him, taking care to avoid stepping on a puddle of milk.
“I love you,” you muttered, “but no more.”
“No more?” König asked.
“No more kids,” you laughed dryly, “Anna is the last.”
König looked between you and the kitchen, then crossed his arms over his chest. He snorted, and agreed, “No more.”
So, I know I'm a bit out of your comfort zone but I was reading some cute FarAlex and now I have a ute idea.
Farah trying for the first time a sweet from Alex and not only is it so sweet her pupils dialate like in those cat videos, she also shares the taste of the sweet with alex with a kiss. Somethng something almost domestic FarAlex :)
Dawww!
I'ma be honest, I don't know much about FarAlex but I love them. They are the only straight couple I like, and I love them.
I'm imagining something like this:
Farah's birthday. They already spent the night before partying with the others. Nothing over the top, just some drinks and stories with her friends.
Now though? On the actual day? They don't do anything but stay inside and cuddle. They get to watch her favorite movie, eat some snacks, and just... Relax. Lord knows that woman needs it.
Alex did still have one last surprise for her though (okay maybe more than one but I'm not diving down that rabbithole today).
A fancy cake, homemade and delicious.
I wanna believe Farah doesn't exactly have much experience(? I can't think of a better word) with sweets. She's not used to it. So imagine taking one bite and her pupils go wide, imidetly grabbing another forkful to shovel into her mouth. It might be one of her favorite things ever.
After she eats a slice or two and is properly full, her and Alex share lazy kisses on the couch. Not leading anywhere, not for any reason, just to enjoy each other.
Not my best work but again, I don't really know 'em 😭
I think this might end up being my wake-up call? This is adorable and I love them. From what I can tell Alex is a total puppy for his girl, it's her world, he's just blessed enough to share it with her. And honestly? Love that for him~
Authors Note: Why is it so hard to find domestic fics? I just want to be happy for once...
He tried.
…
What? He did!
He tried so, so hard.
But seeing you like this? He couldn’t help it. The opportunity was too good to pass up.
For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, goofy smile on his face, his lip almost raw from how hard he was biting it to keep the laugh from escaping. For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, watching as you glared your way through your nightly routine, too frustrated and upset to notice your joyful onlooker. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz has watched, laughed, and almost peed himself. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz somehow became an even more lovestruck fool for you. Was there even a level above devoted? He wasn’t sure up until now. Now, he knew for sure there had to be. How else could he describe the thumping in his chest, the heat in his heart, and sparkles in his eyes.
First, it was your pants not coming down. Who in their right mind made jeans so horrible to get in and out of one handed?! You nearly threw yourself on the floor to bicycle kick your way out, and you would have on any other day. Had it not been for the plaster reminder on your arm to be more careful, you would have easily used the tactical skills you picked up from living with a trained soldier (Gaz didn’t have the heart to tell you that the duck and roll he showed you was, in fact, a move he made up to prank you and not the special ops technique that got him out of a Russian base and save a whole town). Then, it was your shirt not cooperating and catching on every part of your body while coming off (see, once again, the above reason for not launching yourself at anything with a hook). Gaz nearly lost it watching you slam it so hard onto the floor in victory, watching as it bounced a little in retaliation.
Your pajama shirt was no easy feat to get on either, but since it was technically Gaz’s, the extra material meant easy access to neck and arm holes. You nearly cheered at getting your pajama shorts on, looking so cute that Gaz was going to make sure you kept the cute shirt ducktail you accidently made in the back from pulling them up too high over his shirt.
For the last 10 minutes, the sight was funny to the point of a bathroom disaster. Now though? The sight was a little pathetic.
The way the medics had to cast your arm causes it to rest at an awkward 90 degree bend, meaning most of your mobility was hindered. Naturally, your dominant hand was attached to the broken bone, so for the next couple weeks you’d have to get used to mastering the robot in order to do anything useful. Most of your daily functions were easy to switch to your other hand or alter in some way, but the one thing you’ve yet to master is washing your face. The too tall bottle, the stupid pump, the idiotic lathering and cleansing and frothing, and the dumb rinsing were pretty much impossible without bringing you to tears. Broken arm be damned, you were close to giving up all together and become a trash monster in order to never have the embarrassment of watching your face wash pathetically roll across the counter, dodging your hands, until it fell and disappeared under the sink.
Gaz made sure you saw the multitude of photos he took of you helplessly scrambling for it (you repaid him for his kindness with a pillow to the face).
But now, as Gaz watches you reach for the soap, hand slightly batting it back and forth, attempting to push the pump down only for it to spin uselessly in place, his wicked smile turns soft, his eyes filling with adoration as you grumble under your breath. He was only a second away from stepping towards you to help, taking just another moment to appreciate your sleepy figure, when you sighed heavily. Your shoulders slumped forward, lips pouting in the most kissable way, near defeat evident in your stance.
“Oh no!” you said suddenly, louder than even Gaz was ready for. “If only I had a helpful hero here to help me!”
Gaz quickly slammed his hand over his mouth, laughter barely contained. You tilted your head slightly, no doubt trying to have your voice carry into the kitchen where he was supposed to be unloading the grocery bags.
“I’m a helpless civilian in need of assistance!” A beat. “If only there was a musclely, sexy military man to help me.” Another beat. “It sure would be nice to have help from the best soldier in a special task force.” After another moment of silence, you sighed again. “If only there was a sexy man I could give head to-“
“If you shout any louder the whole neighborhood will know how you got that broken arm.” You screamed, nearly jumping out of your skin, body jostling against the sink. Inevitably, the shock sent your face wash sideways, toppling uselessly onto the floor. The rattle of the bottle and the sink was only matched by the wobble of your lips, a shock darting through your hurt arm. The whimper of pain was enough for Gaz to drop his mischievous smile instantly. He hurried forward to cradle your arm gently, the biggest puppy dog eyes searching your face for an indication of pain level.
“Gaaaaaaz-“ you whined, slumping your body into his arms, carefully cradling your arm to your body. Gaz’s eyes switched between your watery eyes and your injury, body nearly surrounding yours in a protective manner. A ping of guilt wracked his heart.
“I know, I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your-“
Your eyes narrowed into a glare. “You knocked my bottle onto the floor, you dweeb!”
Gaz’s dropped jaw barely managed, “That’s what you're upset about!?”
Your lips curled into a pout, still clutching your arm against your body, the pain fading with every passing second. Despite his shock, you watched as his eyes softened the more he gazed down at you in his arms.
“How long have you been standing there? Jerk.” With your uninjured hand, you gently smacked his chest in protest, though there wasn’t any real force behind it. Gaz, reassured you weren’t really hurt, laughed lightly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against your lips, which you quickly returned. Despite being upset with him, you could never deny his kisses.
He also took the opportunity to lean into you just a bit, his hand batting at your ducktail softly.
“Long enough to enjoy the show.” With practiced agility, he leaned down, kissing your thigh (all teeth, of course) before scooping the face wash up in one smooth motion, returning it to its rightful spot on the sinks ledge. You huffed at his wiggling eyebrows. “Now, I heard there was compensation promised for help from a sexy military man?”
“I don’t know if I want to give it to you now, knowing you watched me struggle this whole time without offering help.” Gaz laughed again, brushing his lips against yours once more. Gently, he pushed your hips against the sink, trapping you between it and his sturdy body. His heat enveloped you in its comforting embrace, though you did have to move your arm at a slightly strange angle in order for your chests to push together just like you both liked. Stupid, stupid cast.
He kissed you gently once, twice, then thrice before pulling far enough away to kiss your forehead.
In his gentle atmosphere, Gaz wanted to kiss every part of you, everything that he loved personified. Press your lips together until you’re breathless. Pull you into bed, holding you close just like he did after every long day, shedding off his duties mentally one by one until he was able to do nothing but lay there and smell your soothing scent, listen to your breathing as it got slower and slower, press kisses onto your nearest body part until he, too, drifted off to sleep.
But, he knew, none of that could happen until your face was nice and clean, that very soothing scent wafting off of the freshly washed skin. He kissed your lips once more, before cupping your face between his hands, eyes meeting.
“Your sexy hero is here to save you, darling. I’ve got you.”
Gently, he grabbed the nearby washcloth, wetting it behind you before lifting it to your face. His caresses were slow and feather soft, letting the water guide along your features just enough to make your face wash work its magic. Without breaking eye contact, he exchanged the washcloth for your soap, bubbling it in between his fingers before rubbing it across your cheeks. His touches were more like a massage than a lather, but you couldn’t complain, not when he was sneaking kisses every couple seconds, lulling you into near enough sleep as you could get while standing. Your eyes were closed, but his were wide open, tracing every feature with his loving gaze. Once he was satisfied with the lather, he soaked and rung out the washcloth once more before bringing it to your face. It only took a few swipes to get the majority of the bubbles, but Gaz continued for several long moments, enjoying the blissed out look on your face more than he could express. He swiped gently over your lips before sealing them once again with his, pressing them there to feel you close to him once more.
What a dangerous wish, he thought, to never want this moment to end.
The next morning, you were pleasantly surprised to find a brand new soap dispenser on the sinks edge, short and square, with a red ribbon tied around it.
You've got your legs tucked up on the sofa, completely lost in a book. Not scrolling. Not half-distracted. Fully gone.
Johnny watches you for a solid five minutes before blurting; "What's it doin' to you that I'm not?"
You blink up at him. "What?"
"That book. You stare at it like it's whisperin' secrets."
You stare at him. Then you hold it out. "Read it."
He scoffs. "I don't-"
Two days later he's asking what chapter you're on.
Now it's a thing.
Between missions, you read together. Sometimes in silence, sometimes shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes sprawled on the floor with a shared blanket like you're not surrounded by tactical gear and weapons.
First genre he tries? Smut.
Because of course.
You warned him. He didn't listen.
Twenty pages in he's staring at you like the book personally betrayed him.
"They're doin' what with _
"Keep reading," you say calmly, not looking up.
He does. Regrets nothing.
Now you both end up whispering commentary.
"That's unrealistic."
"Shut up, let them live."
"Why is he growling?"
"Focus, Johnny."
He absolutely loses it when you casually flip a page and mutter, "That's not how anatomy works."
Soap reading smut is a spiritual experience. He gets invested. Protective. Personally offended by bad writing.
Gaz walks past once and hears;
"NO, he would not have that kind of stamina."
He backs away slowly.
Sometimes it's classics.
You hand him something heavy. Russian. Soul-crushing.
He squints at the names. "Why does everyone have three?"
Halfway through, you're both quiet. Too quiet.
"This is bleak," he mutters.
"Yeah."
"Are we havin' fun?"
"No."
You keep reading anyway.
By the end you're staring at the ceiling together, emotionally wrecked.
"Why would you do this to me," he says softly.
"It builds character."
Price overhears that and mutters, "It builds insomnia."
Then there's sci-fi.
lan M. Banks type stuff. Big concepts. Huge worlds.
Soap gets obsessed.
You'll find him pacing, book in hand, explaining a fictional civilisation like it's real intelligence.
"The scale of it- d'you realise-"
You nod because you do.
You both end up curled on opposite ends of the couch, quiet for hours. Not touching. Just existing in the same imaginary universe.
Ghost walks in once. Looks at the two of you silently reading.
..you're both weird."
You don't even look up.
Gaz peeks over your shoulder sometimes, asks questions. Price pretends not to care but once borrowed one of your books and returned it with dog-eared pages (you gasped).
It becomes ritual.
On mission downtime, in barracks, in transport when it's safe; you and Johnny with books in your laps.
Sometimes your shoulders touch.
Sometimes your knees knock.
Sometimes you both look up at the same time and just grin because you've hit the same ridiculous sentence.
He started reading because he was curious about you.
Now he reads because he likes the way it feels. The quiet. The shared immersion. The way you get animated explaining a theme.
And sometimes-
When the world outside is loud and violent-
It's just you, him, and a story.
And that's enough.
I just realised tumblr is the only social media I care abt being anonymous, it's not cause I care but that's just the vibe yk? Tumblr has creeps that's what l've always heard
I would kill for a baby fever Simon.Just imagine him constantly rubbing and caressing your empty stomach anywhere and anytime.And kisses on soft tummy.
AAAAA bby fever si makes me feel so wifey
I hope you like it ~^^
* ੈ✩‧₊˚simon with bby fever * ੈ✩‧₊˚.
ꕥꕤꕥꕤ🍼ꕥꕤꕥꕤ
🍼. Simon whose free hand always reaches your soft tummy as he rubs it making it feel all warm and bubbly :3
🍼. Simon who wakes up with a raging boner after he dreams of getting your belly all big and full with his cum
🍼. Simon who tracks your cycle- buys you chocolate, crisps and hot cocoa
🍼. Simon almost becomes primal when you’re ovulating, pinning you down, ripping your clothes off, his hot breath on your neck.
🍼. Simon who sneaks on you from the back grabbing your waist as his arms find their way to your tum as he just stands there and grabs you the entire time as he watches you cook.
🍼. Simon who pins you down at the bed as he blows raspberries on your cheeks trailing down to your stomach as he rests his heavy head on your stomach whispering I love you’s.
🍼. Simon who has already picked out baby names. The sons name being Tommy with the girls name being aster or procy (self insert sorry)
🍼. Simon who knows that he will never give his son/daughter the childhood he had
🍼. Simon whose heart skips a beat when you ask him to create a family with you.
