Any chance there is more soft Simon and soft wife?
Maybe the guys come over to visit, it’s been long since they’ve retired and are having a backyard BBQ with the families and Soap and Kyle are teasing ghost on how soft he is?? (Not in a mean way)
Please and many thanks :)
a/n
Omigosh this is getting way more attention than I thought it would, thank you all so much!
Price and his missus had invited them all over, and Simon's wife being who she was, she'd insisted the Prices let them bring food. They were not going to be showing up empty handed, her mama had raised her better than that!
So now here they are, Simon pushing open the gate to John's backyard while balancing a dish covered in cupcakes in his other hand. Behind him was Y/N, in her arms was a hot pan of mac n' cheese.
"There he is!" Gaz came and greeted Simon, slapping him on the back affectionately. "Missed you big guy."
Simon chuckled, shifting the cupcakes to give his friend a side hug. "Missed you too."
"And how are you?" Gaz turned to Y/N, taking the pan out of her hands. "Let me take that for you, sweetheart." He winked.
"Hi Kyle." She smiled, "Thanks for taking that, I've got another bowl in the car."
"Of course honey."
Simon shook his head with a smile. "We just got here and you're chatting up my wife already?"
Gaz shrugged, starting to make his way toward the picnic table covered in food, "I think I've earned it with how many times I've saved your ass."
Y/N rolled her eyes, then turned to her husband. "I'm gonna get the pea salad from the car, go say hi to Johnny and Price. Oh- and tell Becca I'll be over in just a minute."
She patted his soft stomach and smiled up at him. He felt his insides just melt.
"Whatever you say, love." He chased her lips for a quick kiss.
She obliged before making her way out the gate, and Simon turned around to find Johnny making his way over with an ear split grin.
"Pretty bloody whipped there, mate." He whistled, sipping the beer in his hand.
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Simon groaned and pushed past Johnny to go set the dessert down. "You would be too if you had a wife that hot."
"Damn right I would." The Scott nodded. "And now that we're retired I've got all the time in the world to find myself a plump little lassie."
Simon shot him a look.
"What?" Johnny shrugged.
As the evening went on food was devoured, many laughs were had, and plenty of beer bottles were emptied. Eventually it'd lead to the four men sitting around a lit fire pit, while Becca and Y/N were inside making tea.
There was a window in the kitchen where you could see the back, and through that window Simon could see her, leaning against a counter, hands holding a mug with her head thrown back laughing. There she was, his dove. He didn't think God could bless him anymore than He already had, not after giving him his wife.
"-host. Hey Simon!"
He tuned back in, realizing all three of his friends were watching him with varied interest.
He grunted back at them, acknowledging that he'd heard this time.
"Getting tired over there man?" Gaz wondered.
"Nah," Price cut in, smiling slyly toward the blonde. "He's just staring at his missus."
Simon shot his former Captain a look. He didn't really appreciate being outed like that.
"You bastards are making me feel like I'm gonna die alone." Johnny whined. "I want a wife."
"You'll get one." Price clapped him on the shoulder. "But for now, just enjoy your pants still fitting."
Simon snorted.
Johnny wrinkled his eyebrows, "Whatdya mean by that?"
Price leaned back in his chair, giving a big stretch before popping the button on his jeans and sighing.
"It means that having a bird at home will sure fatten you up."
Johnny's face lit up, glancing at Gaz before turning to Simon.
"It all makes sense now!"
Simon looked at Johnny like he was bonkers. "What does?"
"All that squish you've got now! It's relationship weight!"
The backyard was silent for a few moments, the only sound breaking it being the crackling of the fire, before both Price and Gaz started roaring with laughter.
Simon sat there, not offended, just flabbergasted.
"-I'd been wondering how it'd happened, I mean I've seen what you cook yourself and, no offense mate, but it does not look good enough to eat unless you're basically dying of starvation-"
His head was in his hands. "Thanks Soap."
"- so I knew it couldn't have been you, y'know, by yourself, and everytime Y/N brings food it's delicous-"
"She'll be thrilled to hear that."
Johnny paused his rambling and patted Simon's shoulder. "Please know that I've never been as jealous of you as I have been since we retired."
Gaz shook his head.
"Furthermore, now I've gotta find me a love that'll plump me up!"
Price cackled. "You do that Johnny. I haven't been a happier man since I married Becca." He patted his stomach. "Got the softness to prove it. Ghost does too."
Simon picked his head up and cracked a smirk. "Damn right I do."
He stretched the same way Price had, before crossing his arms over his stomach. "Ain't nothing wrong with being squishy."
Despite being the banes of his existence, he really loved these guys.
He'd cherished the deployments with them, and now he was cherishing the fact that they all got to grow soft with the people that loved them.
They go to a book store. She rifles through the books and babbles to him. He doesn’t take in a word- looking at her with a moment of realisation, a smile.
“Oooh how about this one?” She squeezed past a rickety trolley of second-hand books, juggling the stack of novels tucked into her left arm to show him. He hummed in response, flipping the book over to read the blurb. “I think I read this at school. I remember stumbling my way through lots of confusing English lessons with Mr. Harper.”
She giggled as she took the book back from him, adding it to the books nestled in her arm now threatening to topple onto the wooden floor. “Well I’m definitely going to give it a go. I’ve been wanting to read this for ages!”
He glanced at her as she tucked the book under her chin and moved on to the next bookshelf, and sighed softly. He watched for a few seconds as he thought back to a few hours ago when he’d agreed to meeting her here before heading to the pub for a friend’s birthday, her voice shining through the phone as she talked about a new bookstore that had just opened up close to her flat.
“Well, do you want to pop in for ten minutes or on our way out?” He had asked, smiling to himself at the sudden intake of excited breath that came from her. “How dare you tempt me with a small bookstore! You know you’ll have to physically drag me from there when we need to leave for the pub?”
“Yes, I’m fully aware, I even have some experience in that area actually. Do you remember that book-store in London Fields that we went to?” He shook his head in amusement as he remembered that day, “I practically had to carry you kicking and screaming as they locked up”.
The sunshine had shone down on them as they strolled from bookstore to bookstore, steaming cups in hand on a beautiful March Sunday morning. Laughter bubbling out from her as she took another sip of her coffee; a soya cappuccino for her, Americano with oat milk for him.
She cares so much, he had thought, as he watched her browse through the dusty shelves of the bookstore, head tilting in contentment as she read blurb after blurb, bag filling up with novels he knew she’d get through in two weeks. No one read more than her, it was becoming a laughing point in their friendship group as she continually handed out books to friends and family that she knew they’d love, she had just read it before hand to make sure.
“Ok… have you read this one? I think you’d like it! It’s a great example of a historical novel with a bit of fictional narrative sprinkled in” He blinked as he was jolted back to the present, back to her, as she brought another book up to him, eyes softly looking up at him in anticipation. He took the book and looked at it, pretending to concentrate when all he could hear was his thumping heartbeat, the thoughts racing in his head, Oh my god. How did I not realise before.
“Hmmm, no I don’t think I’ve read this one before but I like their work. I think I’ll take it home with me, give it a go.” She squealed in excitement to his response as the books clattered to the ground from her arms, quickly bending to pick them up as she continued to babble about the accuracy of historical novels with fictional stories woven in.
Lost in his own swirling thoughts, he grabbed a canvas bag from the shelf for her, bending down to help pick up the books. He was barely listening to what she was saying as one sentence clouded his mind over and over again, swallowing thickly to stop the words threatening to slip out,
Summary: request where reader is insecure about having smaller breasts, but Santiago adores them just the way they are!
Rating: 18+ only, please
Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly to complete as many as I can, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!). Also, please know that Santi’s giving some love to small breasts in particular right now, but I mean zero detriment to any other boobs. ALL shapes and sizes and configurations are beautiful. Yes, yours are! Own it and believe it! Hi, I have small boobs and I love them and I’m not sorry, and please love your small boobs too because Santi would want you to but mainly for yourself.
Warnings: there’s nudity and touching but it’s not sexual per se, but to be safe this has an 18+ rating. Big focus on talking about and touching breasts, and implied prior sexual activity. Body insecurities. Language.
Santi lies on the bed as you straddle him, sitting upright with your thighs wrapped tightly around his hips. He gazes up at you in the soft morning light, showering you with compliments as his eyes and his fingertips traverse lovingly over ever inch of your skin he can possibly see and touch.
“The most beautiful thighs,” he says in a breathy, soft morning voice. “Sexy hips. Look at this pretty stomach...”
You’re smiling gently, still sleepy, as he lavishes you with praise, his fingertips trailing higher up your torso, your flesh rippling where he smooths over the contours of you.
“These perfect fuckin’ tits,” he says, reaching up to swipe the pad of each of his thumbs over your nipples.
When he says that, when he touches you there, your bubble suddenly bursts. Your smile instantly drops, and you wrap you arms around your torso, protecting yourself. Covering yourself. You know it’s silly to be insecure around him, but here you are. You still feel insecure no matter how much attention Santi lavishes on your chest, or how often he engages in loving -and sometimes unspeakable- acts involving them. You can’t get out of your head that your breasts are just too... small.
Especially after something you overheard him say last night while the boys were round for fight night. Something you’re trying to forget.
Feeling dejected and gloomy, you roll off of him and huddle quietly under the blankets by his side, Santi looking entirely puzzled and mentally retracing his steps.
“What did I say?” he asks, brow furrowing, his hand rasping over his stubbled jaw. “Dollar for the swear jar? That it?”
“No... I just. I’m not feeling good about my tits today, okay?” You tug the blanket up and tuck it firmly beneath your armpits.
Santi props himself up on his elbow and turns on to his side, leaning over you in concern.
“Why the fuck not?” he asks, his tone a lot more abrasive than he intended.
A swear jar would make you rich, you realise.You file that for later.
“I just... they’re too small.”
Santi looks at you as though you’re talking utter nonsense.
“Too small for what?” he asks, thoroughly confounded, and his eyebrows shooting up.
“For you,” you say softly, your voice hollowed out, tears of insecurity balling in your eyes as your stare fixes on the ceiling.
“Hold up. Your tits are fuckin’ glorious. Did I do something to make you think...”
You interupt him with a long, self-pitying sigh.
“No. You’re always nice about them, I just. Wouldn’t you prefer some heaving, bouncing bazungas? Some massive, juicy tits to slap you about the face or rest your head on like a pillow or...”
You look at him and you can see him trying his utmost to quell his amusement at the phrase “bouncing bazungas”. He does his best, bless him, but a snicker sneaks past him lips. You throw him a half-serious scowl in response and tighten your grip on the blanket.
“Honey. I’ve gone this long without being slapped about the face, I think I’ll manage.”
“Manage,” you repeat dejectedly through your teeth, the word barely audible. You don’t want him to manage. To settle.
Santi scrubs the smirk from his face when your mood still refuses to lighten, and instead he changes tack, gently tugging at the duvet which you still clench securely to your chest.
“Let me see ‘em then. Remind me what I’m working with? Please?”
You let him ease the blanket down inch by inch over your chest, and the mere sight of your breasts has a gulp bobbing down his throat. Has his tongue darting out over his lower lip. If only you could realise how much he loves them, but you are blind to it.
“These tits?” he says, as his fingertips gently stroke over your chest. “These hot little things, with these sweet, delicious little nipples? Soft under my hand?”
His touch is gentle, tender, as he brushes his fingertips over every inch of your breasts, around the softer skin at your nipple, over the hardened, sensitive pebble at the peak of you.
“Yeah. Exactly like I said,” he confirms. “These are perfect fuckin’ tits. Beautiful, hermosa. Perfect shape. Perfect size. Perfect to look at. To feel. With my fingers or my mouth. Perfect to..” his lips quirk into a smile and his eyebrow ticks up suggestively as he weighs up how crude to be so early on a morning. “... do things to... or on.”
His gaze becomes hungry as he thinks through the possibilities, but he behaves himself. Focusses on staring at the contours of you as though they are positively artful.
“You mean it?” you say, still glum and disbelieving.
“Yes, baby.” Santi says sincerely, and now he has to try hard to tear his eyes away from your chest and look you in the eye. “Lucky that your breasts are small and humble, so I don’t confuse them with moutains,” he adds with a playful smirk, dipping to kiss the tip of your nose.
You scoff at the Shakira lyric and bat him playfully on the arm again. He looks happy to have teased a smile from you. Yet, he’s still not quite satisfied. He wants to root out any remaining insecurity. He hates to see you down on yourself, especially when he knows how entirely perfect you are. “What brought this on though, baby? You wanna talk about it?”
You nibble on your lower lip and stare at the ceiling again. You may as well just come clean. “I overheard you talking in the kitchen with the boys. And... and Benny said he was an ass man and you...”
Realisation dawns on Santi’s face as you speak. “I said I was a boob man,” he nods.
You look back at him and nod softly in return, as his fingertips gently trace nonsense shapes into your skin. You shrug, as if that’s the end of it. As if he’s been found out a liar, because how could these be enough for him if that is the case?
“Honey, holy shit, that’s hilarious,” Santi says, openly laughing at you now.
You scowl at him in offense this time. “It’s not funny!”
“No, honey. It is. Because I was never a boob man. Not until I met you.”
Oh. Oh well. That is kinda funny.
You whip your head towards him to examine his handsome face for sincerity, but he looks entirely truthful. As honest as he ever does when he tells you how beautiful you are to him. You suppose you should believe him when he tells you how much he loves your breasts. When he tells you how much he thought about them when you first started dating, and before. About how much he loves to do things to them and how good it makes you feel when he does. And, if nothing else, you should hold on to the simple fact that Santi loves them because they’re a part of you, and he loves everything about you, inside and out.
“Really?” you say, your insecurities finally beginning to ebb away, a smile beginning to split your face.
Santi nods. “What did I tell you, baby? Perfect. Perfect fuckin’ tits.” His eyes dip to admire them all over again.
You finally smile and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Holds you close to him. Santi really does think you’re perfect. And he’ll never let you forget it, especially in those moments you can’t quite see it for yourself.
[9.11pm] You are worried. Actually Yoongi should be home already. Maybe practice went longer than scheduled? You try your best to not overthink the situation. Then you finally hear the front door. As fast as you can you run to him. "Someone has missed me much, I guess.", Yoongi chuckles. "Sorry that I came late, but I brought you something." He pulls some picked flowers out from behind his back. They look a bit crunched. Leaving their heads and petals are missing. "Aaaaw Yoongi, how cute.", you say happily. "You wanted some flowers. But don't tell our neighbors that I picked their flowers from their garden."
I really hope this isn't too much to ask for, but I saw my abuser today and I just kinda need a blurb of cal comforting the reader after a nightmare, just something with angst but ends super fluffy. again, I hope I'm not asking for too much
hope you’re okay dear 💗 not asking too much at all, i’m sorry i’m getting to this so late
you woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking after a horrible dream that involved memories you never wanted to relive again, nearly scaring calum half to death when you sat up, one hand on your chest while you attempted to catch your breath and the other gripping tightly to the bed sheets
he knew about your nightmares and exactly how to handle them, and as soon as you felt his arms pulling you to lay back down, you knew everything would be okay
“you’re okay baby, i’m here.”
he held you tightly to his chest, shushing you and rubbing your back to calm you down, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head
“i’m sorry.” you breathed out, making him frown
“nothing to be sorry about babydoll, i’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you ever again, you know that right?”
you nodded slowly, sniffling and cuddling yourself further into him, breathing in his smell and finally starting to calm down, calum’s reassuring words putting you back into a peaceful sleep
the air is moist and sticky, clawing it’s way through the silk curtains that flow around the glass windows, landing on your skin and casting a shimmery glow on your body by the sunrise.
however, it’s not uncomfortable. the ceiling fan softly whirring above your head is doing little to cool your heated skin, but it doesn’t bother you. in fact, you’re craving the sheen of light sweat coating your skin; it makes you feel alive, beautiful, even.
there’s movement on the other side of you, silk sheets rustling softly under the weight of your boyfriend who’s now wrapped his tattooed arms around your waist, squeezing softly.
turning in chanyeol’s arms, you notice he’s in the same state you’re in; the heat has gotten to him also, casting a sheen of sweat along his tan forehead. kissing his forehead softly, you run your fingertips over his bicep, squeezing gently to wake him up.
“yeol”
his chocolate brown eyes flutter open, mouth forming into a sleepy smile that has your heart fluttering in affection.
leaning down you capture his lips with yours in a soft, yet sweet kiss. he tastes like chocolate and pinot noir, the tell-tale events of last night rushing back to you.
in a flurry you’re reminded of chanyeol’s soft yet possessive touches across your skin, burning into the flesh as he claims you as his. the wine-flavored kisses that left you addicted and desperately wanting more. the way your back arched when he explored parts of you that originally had been untouched and abandoned. the soft pants and whimpers leaving your lips when he finally took you and cherished you as his own.
you need more. you’re cravings for him have taken over the rational side of you brain, your thoughts filling with images of chanyeol kissing you, touching you, cherishing you.
leaning down towards his body, you utter the softest of whispers in his ear, hand wrapping around his bicep, gently squeezing, “chanyeol, make me yours again.”
seungmin helped load your luggage to the trunk of the taxi. the driver slammed it shut before leaving you and seungmin alone. you let out a breath as you looked him in the eye.
"so... this is it, huh? i'm finally studying abroad." , you smiled at him, letting a few tears roll out.
"hey, hey, why are you crying? this is your dream ever since we were kids." , he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, both his palms warming you cheek.
"i'm just gonna miss you too much. take care of yourself, and your mom. she's all you have now."
"i'd always find time to communicate with you." , he kissed your frorehead, letting his lips linger a bit longer, "be careful, okay? 'til i see you again."
you gave him a tight hug before you both let go. he opened the door for you and you stepped in, he gave a little wave before closing the door, you waved back. the taxi made its way, you looked back at seungmin's distancing figure. it aches seeing him getting further and further away.
[6:46 am] Doyoung didn’t kiss you the way you’d expect, neither teasingly or eagerly. Instead, he pressed his lips against your fingertips, feather-light, and trail from your palm, arm, across your collarbone to your neck. Then your jaw, cheek and, finally, he paused close to your face.
