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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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darkartsanna · 2 months ago

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Hurricane Helene Relief Funds to those affected in the Southern Regions *will edit as I find more, please reblog as usual and check back for updates (Liking doesn't circulate it and isn't helpful)* *9/30 Has been edited! (Also, I think whenever I edit this it doesn't update the versions already reblogged?) ORGANIZATIONS American Red Cross FEMA Disaster Assistance Improvement Program Warmline Directory (Mental health resource) AKC Pet Reunite Food Not Bombs Operation BBQ Relief Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies & Roll Mobility Operation Air Drop GEORGIA State and Local Level Referrals - (60 Organizations Listed) Emergency Shelter Locations Animal League

NORTH CAROLINA Brother Wolf Animal Rescue Asheville Survival Program Homeward Bound State and Local Level Referrals Beloved Asheville Rural Community funds CLT Mutual Aid Fundraiser for a NC resident to deliver food to affected areas Mutual Aid Disaster Relief Animal Disaster Relief Coalition Mutual Aid Disaster Groups

Special Note: There are 2 Wifi Stations now open for public use. The locations are: SPOT 1: DoubleTree Hilton Downtown 199 Haywood SSID: SORTOR STARLINK Pass: ncstrong SPOT 2: Asheville Shelter Ferguson Building 340 Victoria Rd SSID: HALL STARLINK Pass: ncstrong SOUTH CAROLINA State and Local Level Referrals (44 Organizations Listed) FLORIDA Volunteer Florida Disaster Fund FootPrint Project State and Local Level Referrals - (52 Organizations Listed)

TENNESSEE HellBender Harm Reduction

More supplies to consider donating in hurricane impacted areas:

Bottled water, potentially water filters

Personal hygiene items: wipes, tampons/pads/other menstrual products, hand sanitizer, mosquito spray, laundry detergent, toilet paper, diapers, and especially any products safe for sensitive skin

Medications like ibuprofen/tylenol, yeast infection medicine, cold & cough medicine, any diabetic meds that can be safely shared, etc

Individually wrapped low to no prep food items, baby formula, and Gatorade

Pet Food

Sunscreen

Heavy duty bags, Duffel bags, backpacks, and trash bags, 5 gallon buckets, coolers

Fans, dehumidifiers, moisture sensors, generators, gas, gas canisters, solar charging items, portable battery banks, first aid kits

Chainsaws, crowbars, hammers, air filters, respirators, 2×4 planks, bleach, roofing nails, heavy duty gloves, and waders.

Books, Board Games or other non electric activities for children

Double check before donating items, especially if your local drive is accepting donations of particular products and can distribute the more specialized ones where they're needed.

#The storm didn't hit my town but it sure ate alive everything around us and what it didn't eat it certainly chewed up and spit out #I'd appreciate some reblogs on this folks- this is a rough time for a lot of places that were underprepared for this freak occurrence #Towns further inland even 300 miles from the coast got slammed HARD and no one would've expected this and only had days to evacuate #hurricane helene #hurricane helene relief #mutual aid #disaster relief #asheville #north carolina #georgia

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

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Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small.

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone.

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit.

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.”

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you.

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?”

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile.

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches.

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back.

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.”

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again.

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely.

“I can take her, if you want to-“

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again.

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty.

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled.

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control.

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.”

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself.

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside.

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod.

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth.

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley

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chrissturniolospepsi · 4 months ago

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sleepy || chris sturniolo x reader

hi all! before this book begins i would like to say that this is my first book so please bare with me, and i am happy to recieve some critiques and help with my writing. this is also very very short because im new to this! enjoy and have a nice day!! (lowercase is intended). 🤗🤍

as you slowly drift away into your slumber, you feel a sudden movement on the space of the bed beside you.

you groggily flip over onto your other side to be met with chris. “hey ma.” he says, as he runs one of his hands through your messy hair. “hi baby” you say yawning.

as chris ingulfs you into a hug, you sigh and breathe in his scent. “long day?” he asks. “most definitely.. work was so stupid, dealing with so many rude customers lately.” you spit out, almost regretting saying all of it.

“oh my poor girl..” he says while rubbing your back. the comfort he brings you is unimaginable. feeling safe in his arms, you start to feel yourself falling asleep once again.

chris lowly hums as he pets your hair or rubs your back. you feel his rugged breathing, and smell his cologne and the laundry detergent used on his clothes.

as you fully fall asleep, chris lightly kisses you on top of your head and slowly falls asleep as well.

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolo triplets

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tmblrcolouredpaper · 6 months ago

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When TXT is making you feel comfortable: habits, routines and rituals that occur when they prioritize your comfort

5 short scenarios per member listed

wc (in total): 1943

no warnings

When Yeonjun is making you comfortable...

... he has his apartment stocked with products that make you feel at home. He has your favorite snacks. He bought your favorite clothes as substitutes that he keeps in his closet for when you stay over. He has some copies of your favorite books and gets some magazines you enjoy. If you're a person who menstruates, he of course has all possible period products ready. If your hobby is painting, he has all utensils at his place. If you are currently into lifting weights and working out, he creates a little sport corner for you.

'Top drawer on the right', he yells after you when you leave is room to go to the kitchen, because you feel like having a snack.

'Look at the bag in my closet', he instructs when you spilled on your favorite shirt, while he gets the detergent ready to wash your shirt right away.

... he is with you when you decide to face your fears. If he can and it makes sense, he is with you in person, but otherwise, he offers you to be on a call with him or text him. One or the other way, he will be with you.

'Three, two, one and you go inside, okay? I'll stay on the call and you can return right to my voice if you want to, yeah? Now, my brave baby, three, two, and one'.

... he is his crazy self around you and is the happiest when you slowly allow yourself to let your guard down and become more unhinged yourself.

'That doesn't sound like a chicken. My donkey impression totally beats yours. Try again'.

... he directly protects you from others. Whether it's strangers or friends, encountering you with inappropriate intentions or ignorant jokes, he shields you.

'Keep walking', he spits at a man who is eyeing you up and down when you are outside. Yeonjun pushes himself between you and the crowd immediately and takes your hand to pull you behind him, not letting go of you until he feels like it's rather safe again.

... he lets you sleep. Regardless if you fall asleep on his bed, taking up all the space or of you fall asleep directly on him, he lets you. The only time he moves you is when your position looks rather uncomfortable and possibly damaging if you remain lying like that for too long.

'Oh? Am I that comfy?', he whispers as he looks down on your sleeping figure on his chest, smiling to himself.

When Soobin is making you comfortable...

... he subtly bends his knees or leans against an accessible surface when he's talking to you, to not tower over you as much.

'Oh, why I'm leaning against the wall like this? I'm just a bit tired, that's all'.

... he carries all your bags at a shopping trip and cheers you on in every outfit you are trying out.

'This looks beautiful on you. Wait? Feels a bit too tight? Give me a second. I'll bring it in a different size', he says and rushes into the isles with bags already dangling from his shoulders. He always has capacity to carry just one more thing if it's for you.

... he never, NEVER, distances himself first when you hug. He always waits for you to be ready to let go, because he doesn't even want to give you one nuanced opportunity to doubt him wanting to be with you.

'I'm not letting go before you're ready', he whispers when you were already in his embrace for ten minutes, standing in the middle of the room. It doesn't matter if you are happy, sad, scared, worried. He is constantly ready to be your safe space.

... he gives you the biggest side-eye. As much as he admires you, he doesn't put you on a pedestal. When your jokes aren't funny or you say something particularly dumb, he will silently let you know and expects to be treated the same.

'What do you mean unicorns weren't real at least for one period of time on this earth? I literally saw a documentary about it!', he argues and has to contain himself to not burst into a laughter, seeing you shaking your head in disbelief with a big frown on your face. Those situations are so funny and carefree to him.

... he has your back regarding everything. Regardless of how unrealistic or silly something may seem, he is always there, encouraging you to at least give it a shot. As uncertain a situation, a project, a try may be, he remains your certain stability.

'So what if it's stupid? You're curious of it. It excites you, so go and see if it could be working for you', he says and adds that regardless of what happens, in the end of the day you can just return to him as always.

When Beomgyu is making you comfortable...

... he waves at you when he sees you walking towards him, but is surprised to see you turning around to look at the other people who are walking down the street in an attempt to figure out if he might be meeting someone else.

'I was waving at you, you know', he says after greeting you when you are finally standing in front of him.

... he is puzzled to find you wearing long pajama pants as it is a warm summer night during which he is staying over at your apartment. He toys with the fabric when you sit down next to him and experimentally pulls the fabric up your leg a bit.

'Isn't it way too warm in those?', he questions and listens to you negating in an obvious lie.

'Just wear shorts. I won't do or think anything inappropriately only because I see your skin', he assures and when you leave to your bedroom to get changed, he adds, 'And don't you dare forcing yourself into that bra any longer'.

... he observes you lingering a bit closer around him than usually when you feel particularly down.

'Want to hug?', he simply asks and opens his arms when you shyly nod, inviting you into his embrace at your own pace.

... he slides on the bench to sit right next to you when you are particularly anxious in a cafe, and he opens his hand as he watches you trying to hide your own trembling one.

'I'll hold you', he offers and waits for you to place your palm on his. Then he gently encloses his fingers around your hand and makes you shift your focus by asking you to count every brown item you could see in the room.

... he lets you wear his clothes, either when you're freezing and need extra layers or when it's warm outside but you don't want to wear too revealing clothes.

'I have a whole closet, just try my clothes'.

When Taehyun is making you comfortable...

... he doesn't interrupt you. When you are speaking, regardless of how loud and enthusiastic or how quiet and hesitant you are when talking, he listens patiently.

'No, keep talking. I wanna hear', he encourages when you insecurely stop yourself from sharing.

... he challenges you. If you want to do something, but doubt yourself, he makes it into playful game to lift the pressure off your shoulders, stepping away from the burden of actively existing.

'One hour? Okay, one hour and then we'll see who manages to write more applications. Winner gets, hmm, one wish. Anything? Yeah? Let's go', he cheers and starts typing right away.

... he coexists with you in silence. Grocery shopping, cleaning, reading, whatever it is, he doesn't force conversations. Eye contact, gentle smiles, pointing at items, that's already such richness of mundanity.

'They have your ice cream on sale', he informs and watches you hurrying down the isle to grab some packages, happily smiling at him.

... he directly teaches and explains things. He doesn't leave room for any condescension. If you don't know something or make a mistake and he knows then he just explains. If you want to learn something he already knows how to do, he offers to teach you if you want.

'I know this choreo. Want me to play dance teacher?', he asks in a laugh, happy at the thought of spending time with you while you explore your interest.

... he simply assures and compliments you.

'You're doing great today', he beams when you tick off another point on your to-do-list and later on doodles a little smiley face on the bottom of your paper.

When Kai makes you comfortable...

... he takes interest in your interests to genuinely connect with you when you share pieces of your realms of curiosity.

'Omg, the new episode of your favorite show is online', he informs you in excitement and watches you grabbing your phone to check it yourself. To the question if it would be fine if you watch it now, he just nods and asks if he can join you.

... he reserves spots for you. In restaurants and cafes he always makes sure you have a place to arrive to when he is there earlier or you are definitely running late. At home he has one plushie that is assigned to you, so it can occupy a chair or one side of the bed, keeping others away from your destined space.

'Over here', he says loudly when he sees you entering the cafe. He towers over the present people and waves you over to his table, where an empty chair and a cookie or fruit bowl or whatever snack you like, is waiting for you.

... he laughs with you. He genuinely enjoys your humor and he will not leave you hanging whenever you are telling a joke and make a sassy remark. When you are being clumsy, he laughs it off with you. There is no second of insecure embarrassment when he is around.

'Yo! I tripped over that exact edge yesterday, too!', he squeals as he holds you by your arm to prevent you from falling and bursts into laughter simultaneously with you when your eyes meet.

... he lets you be shy. You talk too quietly for people to understand what you're saying? He translates calmly and with a sense of protection over you, his expression telling the listener not to dare making an unnecessary comment regarding your behavior. He lets you hide behind him when you are too shy to face someone or something.

'Come here', he whispers when he notices your shyness and opens his jacket for you to step closer to him where he can hide you between the fabric and his body, telling people who look confused, that he's freezing a bit.

... he always responds to you. Any question you could possibly ask will get a useful answer and even if it's just him informing over his state of uncertainty regarding a topic or a repeated answer to a repeated question. He doesn't waste time engaging in the reality in the form that it matters to you.

'Yes, of course I'd love you if you were a worm'; 'My first thought is that I don't mind either, but I feel like I tend to prefer pizza over burger today'; I said it minimum hundred times already, but here is another reminder: You look great and I am going to cuddle you to sleep in every state of your body'.

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eringobragh420 · 15 days ago

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🖤 Pairing: Roman Reigns x f!Reader x cuck!Cody Rhodes 🖤 Summary: Cody grants your wish. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Daddy kink, cuckolding, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, cum, dirty talk 18+ 🖤 Taglist: If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST Alright, you feral angels, here it is!

“There we go,” Roman touts, tugging on the tie—a tie Cody was wearing around his neck earlier in the night—now heavily knotted and imprisoning Cody’s wrists together behind his back. “Nice and tight.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Cody says, flashing his baby blue eyes up at Roman.

Roman grins, and the pity the Tribal Chief has for Cody is radiating off him in waves, hanging in the ether surrounding them. The Samoan rests a huge hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Oh, sure I do, Nightmare.” And now he’s mocking him. This is exactly what you wanted, except Roman’s humiliation and degradation is supposed to be directed at you, not your boyfriend.

You can’t help the way it raises your temperature, though—Cody’s the Undisputed Champion, a title he took from Roman, and to watch him sit there and allow Roman to treat him this way for you? You’re both turned on and appreciative, never having imagined a situation where your boyfriend would allow you to be dominated by another man.

Roman squats beside Cody, squeezing his shoulder, and Cody’s jaw clenches. “Because when you see the absolute whore I turn your girlfriend into tonight … you’re not gonna like me very much.”

Cody inhales deeply through his nostrils, stoney gaze rising to meet yours. It’s impossible to read his expression—does he want to stop?—so you make the quick and easy choice to continue with Roman, expecting Cody to voice his displeasure if things get out of hand for him. A safe word had been agreed upon when you’d all three sat down to discuss what exactly this night would entail, because while Roman practically giggled at the thought of dominating Cody Rhodes’s girlfriend, he was meticulous in making sure limits and boundaries were well-defined. Your cheeks burned as you’d explained the kind of experience you desired, Roman’s pupils growing and growing until they consumed his beautiful irises, and he’d quickly assented. Cody’s only stipulation? He wanted you to have the time of your life because it’s never gonna fucking happen again, he’d asserted, adding that no mention would ever be made of the night you would spend together, to which you and Roman had acquiesced.

“You’re not wrong,” Cody admits, still glowering at you.

Roman nods slowly, thick lips pursed, and he raises his hand in your direction, curling his long fingers, his attention still focused solely on Cody. You don’t know what Roman has in mind, but you can only guess it’s gonna piss off Cody. Still you stand from the bed, straightening your skirt, and slowly close the space between you and the sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life. Roman points a finger at the floor, still examining Cody’s reaction closely, and you descend to your knees, equidistant between the Tribal Chief and the American Nightmare. After a moment, Roman rises to his full height, eclipsing you and Cody, and he finally sets his sights on you. His rough fingers glide from your cheek to the back of your head, and you allow your face to be pressed into his crotch. The sweatpants he’s wearing are soft and warm, and you can smell detergent, but most importantly, you can smell Roman. You breathe in his scent, not very quietly, as he rubs your face across his balls and hardening cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Roman asks.

You look up at him, wide eyes bright and innocent, and you recall a certain condition Roman had added. “Yes, Daddy.” Cody’s never cared for your daddy kink, or your desire to be used like a whore, but he loves you so much, he’s willing to let you call another man daddy, and he’s willing to let that man have his way with you. Fuck, you love him so much, but Roman Reigns’s solid bulge has your heart right now.

“That’s a sweet girl,” Roman praises, suddenly beaming down at you. “Let’s see what we can do to change all that,” he sneers. He pushes you away—you barely catch yourself from falling completely backward—so he can lower his pants, an impressive piece of weaponry springing free, and you’d be embarrassed by your blatant gaping if you noticed anything other than Roman’s thick dick. He grabs your chin suddenly and pulls, and you’re off-balance again, knees shuffling forward, hand landing on one of Cody’s meaty thighs to stabilize yourself. “Now look at your pussy boyfriend—” Your eyes slide sideways to meet Cody’s, anticipating scorched earth in his gaze, but those once lightning-colored irises are consumed with desire and impatience, and your pussy clenches. “—and open your fuckin’ mouth.”

The velvety, weeping head of Roman’s cock slips past your lips, and you can feel every vein and throb as he continues on until he crashes into the back of your throat. He has no interest in allowing you time to get used to him, nor does he give you a few attempts at swallowing him whole like Cody does, because that’s not what he’s for. He’s here to give you what Cody can’t. Tears spring in your sparkling eyes as you continue watching the American Nightmare as he watches you willfully allow Roman Reigns to assault your throat. Roman’s hand slides under your jaw and along your neck so he can feel the outline of his dick as it pumps in and out, opposite hand cupping the back of your head, and now he’s fucking your face exactly the way you’ve needed it for so long. Your grip tightens on Cody’s solid thigh, and a small groan vibrates your chest when the muscle flexes under your hand.

You lose all sense of time and your surroundings, losing yourself in the filthy, reckless way Roman is using your mouth for his pleasure. Your mouth, chin, and neck are sparkling from the thick coat of slobber and spit and desperation the Tribal Chief has easily pulled from you. Your knees burn and ache, throat throbbing from the repetitive intrusion, until suddenly Roman is gone and you’re empty and abandoned. Already used and nearly depleted, you topple onto Cody’s lap as you struggle to catch your breath. This is the first time you see that, not only did you drool all over yourself, but there’s a noticeable, slick stain on Cody’s pant leg.

“Babe,” Cody starts.

Roman fists his hand in your hair and yanks your head back, exposing your ruined face to the love of your life. “Tell this little bitch this is exactly what you wanted, whore,” he demands.

Your lips pull back from your teeth as your scalp screams. “This is what I wanted,” you breathe. You try not to lay it on too heavy just how badly you’ve wanted this to spare Cody’s feelings.

“Good. Now take your clothes off.”

You know better than to question anything. “Yes, Daddy.” Climbing to your feet, you begin to disrobe in front of and in close proximity to both men. Having two sets of eyes on you at the same time is erotic and a bit nerve-wracking, but you’re eventually nude as the day you were born, unsure of what exactly to do with your hands. Cody’s eyes take a familiar route from the top of your head to your toes and back again. The lump in his pants now promises to bust the zipper. You wonder if maybe you’ll get the opportunity to do this again with such a reaction from your boyfriend.

Roman’s hands slide along your sides, one headed south, the other north, and he presses his now bare, ample chest to your back. Just like when he shoved his cock down your throat, he gives no warning before sinking his fingers inside your folds, bypassing your clit, and then inserting two of those fingers deep within your cunt. You cry out, clutching that sinewy arm. He scissors those fingers, and his free arm has to hold you up when your knees buckle. His dark chuckle is both audible and physical, and he doesn’t hold you steady for very long before his hand is back in your hair and he’s pulling and positioning until you’re chin is on your shoulder and your eyes are locked in the penitentiary that is Roman’s lewd leer. He orders you again to open your mouth, adding that you stick your tongue out, and this time Roman’s eyes meet Cody’s before he spits directly on your displayed tongue.

“Swallow,” he commands, and you eagerly obey. There’s no hiding how bad you want this anymore, especially not with Roman’s deft fingers still working your pussy. But then his fingers are gone, and your disappointment is evident by the whine escaping your throat. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees.” Turning, Roman smacks your ass so hard you imagine this is what it feels like when he slaps someone in the ring. Ignoring the urge to massage the tender flesh, you crawl onto the bed, and since there was no direction, you decide to align with the bed, putting your body on display from the side. Taking the initiative, you arch your back and throw your hair to one side before looking at them, smirking at their similar goddamn expressions.

“I’m not sure how Hunter landed on such a pussy for a world champion,” Roman says matter-of-factly, still looking at you. Cody’s eyes are also on you until Roman makes his comment, and then they’re rolling and his brows are arching, and you try not to question why this is turning you on so much. “I mean, you got this fine ass woman that just wants you to treat her like whores are supposed to be treated, and you can’t even get that done. It’s a damn shame, really.” Roman steps forward so he’s standing beside Cody, stroking his cock that’s still coated in your slobber, and Cody squirms, averting his gaze to anywhere else. “But don’t you worry, Nightmare. I’ma take real good care of your woman.” A nanosecond passes, and Roman snorts and bursts into giggles. “I’m just fuckin’ with you.” The hilarity is gone instantly, replaced with a feral beast, a predator, and you are his prey. “I’ma make sure this bitch can’t walk for at least a month.”

Your heart hammers against its cage as Roman stalks you. His hands snatch your hips and jerk you and the blankets down to the foot of the bed, and then he presses his hand to your lower back, and it takes you a moment to figure out what he wants. You slide your knees further apart, sinking lower, shaping your ass, and Roman smacks each cheek, watching your skin ripple.

“Acknowledge me, whore,” he growls, rubbing the head of his cock along your dripping slit.

“I acknowledge you, my Tribal Chief,” you reply breathlessly, adding, “I acknowledge you, Daddy,” unsure of which response he’s looking for.

“More. Look at that pitiful little boy and give me more.”

Casting your hooded eyes in Cody’s direction, you bite your bottom lip. Cody’s cheeks are firetruck red, his biceps are flexed, swelling his veins, and it’s honestly a toss-up over whether or not he’s incredibly turned on or immeasurably furious. You can’t bring yourself to care. Not now. “Please fuck me, Daddy,” you sigh, “fuck me like the whore I am.” A hard slap to your ass, jarring your body, and you squeal. “Fuck me like he can’t, Daddy. Please?” You’re shrill now, embarrassing yourself.

Roman impales you on his rigid dick, and you collapse to your face as your tight cunt struggles to accommodate his size. Hand in your hair, he yanks, bowing your back further than you thought possible, and he begins a steady, mildly painful rhythm, but fuck, this is exactly what you needed. A man to fuck you without regard for your pleasure, to use you to his heart’s desire and essentially throw you away when he’s finished. You’re not about to delve into the reasons you’re wet as hell from all the insults thrown Cody’s way, but it’s doing something to you, and that slick is now sliding down your thighs in tiny tributaries.

“You know what else whores like?” Roman asks. His fingers bury themselves in your folds, and you cry out in both pleasure and surprise, but they don’t stay long, and his reasoning for doing it in the first place is instantly revealed. He circles a wet finger around your asshole, and a growl emanates from deep in your chest. Roman laughs. “Told you. If this bitch could have three Tribal Chief cocks inside her at the same time, she would, wouldn’t you, bitch?”

“Fuck yes, my Tribal Chief. I wish you could use all my holes.”

Roman dips his thumb inside your ass, and your orgasm tears through you like a bull in a china shop, both holes clenching around Roman. “Fuck, that’s it, slut. Milk my fuckin’ cock.” He pounds into you for several moments, pumping his thumb in and out at a different pace, and soon he’s roaring like the king of the fucking jungle. He pulls out without warning, and you feel the hot ropes of cum as they land all over your ass, back, and you think it might’ve even hit your hair. “Fuck,” he sighs sensationally. “Made a mess on your woman.” Slowly folding into a more comfortable position, you look over your shoulder as Roman tucks himself away and picks his shirt up from the floor. “Make yourself useful and clean that up for me, would ya?” he says to Cody, ruffling his hair. “Thanks, champ.”

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes

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astraystayyh · 10 months ago

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minho x reader. hurt/comfort. for my @rachalixie i love you 💓

you’ve never been scared of storms, never truly minded the wind rattling your windows or the bitter cold seeping through the hidden cracks of your home. you figured that the earth was allowed a moment of anger for all the burden it bears.

until tonight.

the earth was a bit angrier, the wind was more frantic, reaching inside your home and rattling your bones instead. the cold was biting, making shivers ripple through your skin no matter how tightly you pulled the cover over your body.

and then it was pitch black.

the storm suddenly felt more harmful, as if its anger was solely directed to you. and you were all alone, minho out to make sure the stray cats near your apartment were sheltered from the rain.

you freeze for a second, before turning on your phone’s flashlight and dialing minho’s number. the light is faint, flickering in and out of sight as thunder booms in your walls. you need minho.

“i’m coming upstairs,” he says upon picking up, “the power went out, right? the elevator isn’t working.”

“mm,” you hum, clutching your phone tighter, having little faith in which strangled sound your voice might conjure.

“are you scared?” he giggles, his laugh sounding like an airy bubble. you remain silent and you can hear him pause in his tracks, feel the softening of his voice before he speaks. “are you okay?” he asks again, tone much tender, making your heart ache for an entirely different reason. he always knows.

“minho, can you hurry, please?”

“i’m here,” his steps are quicker, climbing two stores at a time. you almost feel guilty if not for how badly you needed to see him, to hold his hand and to feel him close.

“i’m here,” he repeats as soon as he opens the door, voice getting lost in the booming of thunder, but you pick it up easily, shining light on the front door so he’d know where you are.

“you’re here,” you echo quietly as he crouches before you, taking your hands between his own. his lips are warm as they brush against your palm, kindling a fire right where they touch. “i didn’t know you were afraid of storms,” he speaks softly, his eyes seemingly gleaming more in the darkness.

“i’m not. it’s just the dark and the storm combined… it’s silly, right?”

“it’s okay, baby,” he coos, using the same doting tone he speaks to his cats in. “i’ll go light up some candles, okay?” he stands up and your hand wraps around his wrist instinctively, stopping him in place.

you don’t say anything, suddenly feeling embarrassed about your clinginess. you drop his wrist and he smiles softly, before scooping you up in his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

“better?” he inquires, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before walking to the kitchen. you nod, burying your head into his neck, inhaling his scent– your laundry detergent and jasmine, coupled with intoxicating woodsy tones that never leave him.

“be honest, you just wanted an excuse to cuddle me, right?” he chuckles as he opens the drawer, retrieving four candles from there. you bite his shoulder in response before planting a kiss on that same spot.

“i was actually scared.”

“i know, baby. i was too.” his voice is too gentle in contrast to the rage taking place outside. it makes you feel lucky to have softness embodied in your home.

“were you?”

“im hugging you to stay safe,” he smiles lightly and you feel the warmth spread through your entire being. you know he’s lying, the dark never fazed minho, but he’s doing it so you’d feel less alone in your fear.

“there,” he grins as the candles come to life, lighting up your place with a warm golden glow. its light reflects on minho’s honeyed skin, as he leans back a bit to look at you. “better, right?”

“yes,” you finally smile, untangling your legs from his waist and coming down. he places a lingering kiss on your forehead, his warm hands cradling your cheeks gently. “my scared baby,” a peck to your nose. “do you want us to go to bed?” a peck to your eyelid.

you nod, “can we cuddle?”

“of course, honey.”

“and can you sing to me?” you add quietly, as his hand intwines with your own.

“anything you want.”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff

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mariclerc · 4 months ago

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Hi lovely!!!! I absolutely adored your CL16+LS2 post and I was wondering if you could do more?? It was so lovely to see a proper poly relationship rather than jsut reader dating both guys and the guys not 😭🩷🫶🏻

Thanks for this request!! I know it's a little short, but I hope you like it!

Cozy rainy kiss | cl16 & ls2

Summary: On a rainy day, there is nothing better than spending it with your boys. Warnings: none, just teeth rot fluff.

requested and dedicated to: @rach3164 💌💌

Did the rain ruined your plans? Of course, because you wanted to go out for a walk with your boyfriends, but now you find yourself in your shared cozy, modern apartment. The living room is filled with a bunch of racing memorabilia. You find yourself on the couch, nestled in a large red hoodie, looking small and content while Charles and Logan are seated on either side of you.

“Babe you look like you could hibernate in there.” Charles' says while smiling, you're wearing his hoodie.

Logan chuckles at Charles' words. “Yeah darling, you're basically like a little red riding hood.”

You blush, burying your face in the big hoodie.

“Oh shut up, you two.” you say with a muffled voice.

Charles chuckles and pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Hey, don't hide. You know we love your blushy cute face.”

Logan leans in, resting his head on your neck. You can feel his warm breath on your skin.

“You smell like laundry detergent and Charles perfume... My favorite smells.”

You giggle. “Ew, Logie, stop it.”

Logan's leg comes up, resting over yours. You feel a surge of warmth and a strange comfort.

“Cozy, huh?” Charles' says while smirking.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips.

There's a comfortable silence as you all enjoy the moment, the rain outside continues its rhythmic patter.

“I wish it was snowing.” Logan says breaking the silence, you giggled to his witty words.

“You’d be the first one to build a snowman.” says Charles teasing him.

Logan playfully shoves Charles and you laugh at their silly antics.

Slowly, Charles and Logan lean in, their faces coming closer to yours. Your heart pounds in your chest and you close your eyes.

Suddenly their lips meet yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You feel a rush of emotions, a mix of excitement and nervousness, the kiss deepens, and you surrender to the moment, you three are a tangle of lips and bodies, but you couldn't mind less about it. The rain outside provides a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment, you feel safe and loved with them.

After a few moments, Charles and Logan pull back, their foreheads resting against yours. You're breathless.

“That was nice.” says Charles smiling.

“Yeah, it was.” says Logan while grinning.

You blush, looking down. “It was.” you say softly.

There’s a comfortable silence as you all catch your breath, Logan's arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him while Charles' hand finds yours.

Suddenly Logan sighs. “I love you both so much.” he says in a whisper.

Charles squeezes your hand. “We love you too, Logie. And you, princess.”

You look up at them, feeling a huge wave of love wash over you.

“I love you both so much too!” you say while smiling at them.

The three of you share a tender moment, the bond between you growing stronger. The rain outside seems to intensify, and a clap of thunder shakes the apartment, making you jump slightly.

“Uhh, you scaredy-cat.” Logan chuckles.

You playfully hit his arm. “Shut up Logan.” you giggled.

Charles pulls you closer, wrapping you in a protective embrace. You feel safe and loved by your boys.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” Charles' says and Logan nods in agreement.

“Yup, we're both here baby girl.”

You lean into their embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. The storm outside rages on, but inside the apartment, it's calm and cozy.

As the night wears on, the three of you continue to cuddle, watching movies, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Eventually, sleepiness creeps in. Charles and Logan help you to your feet, and together, you make your way to the master bedroom.

The three of you curl up together in the bed, the warmth of your bodies a comforting contrast to the cold night outside.

“God, I’m so tired.” Logan says while yawning.

Charles smiles. “Me too.”

You snuggle closer to them, feeling completely safe and loved.

“Goodnight, boys.” you yawn. “Love you lots!” you say sleepily.

They both kiss your forehead.

“Goodnight, beautiful princess.” They both say in unison.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel a sense of complete and utter happiness. And you never thought about being in a relationship with two wonderful guys, of course, they are not one hundred percent perfect, but they are yours and you adore them as they are... With their flaws, quirks and special details that make them unique and you know that they love you the same way as you do.

#formula one x reader #cl16 x reader #ls2 x reader #poly!f1 #poly!drivers x reader #f1 x you #cl16 x ls2 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #charles leclerc #charles x you #logan x you #logan x y/n #logan sargeant #logan x reader #poly!drivers #mariclerc fics

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oceantornadoo · 9 months ago

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price’s secret wife…just some comfort and fluff tbh

john heard a small knock, then the sound of his door being opened slowly, as if not to disturb. he tried to quell the adrenaline rush in his body, the need to tackle an incoming threat. it could only be one person, the one person he kept his door unlocked for.

there you were, his old oversized tshirt and boxers serving as your pajamas. you only wore them when you needed comfort, and when you were off duty. you were the one concerned with how it would look to the other soldiers on base, a female officer wearing her coworker’s name on the back of her shirt. if only they knew it was your legal name too. you perched comfortably on his bed, too tired to properly acknowledge him. he turned off his desk light, abandoning his paperwork in favor of his wife. his first and only priority. john sat next to you, spreading his thighs to make his lap bigger as he left his hands at his sides. he knew you like the back of his hand, knew you needed to sit in silence sometimes. you drained your social battery all day, giving out orders and dealing with subordinates. john was your rock, your lighthouse in the sea of duty. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the top of it scratching his beard. he leaned his on top of yours, taking your calloused hand into his own. he traced the lines of your palm slowly, pressing slightly to massage it. you hummed and he placed a kiss on your head, glad you were warming up out of your trance. “john…” you whispered, tucking your chin. “love?” he was a bit worried now. you still hadn’t looked at him.

your hand left his in favor of his shoulder as you turned your body to straddle him, your favorite seat in the world. you crossed your legs around him as you tucked your head into his neck, your hands exploring the taut muscles of his back. “hi baby.” you said into his neck, placing a kiss into the juncture of his neck, where his beard met smooth skin. his hands finally settled on your waist, massaging the skin there. “rough day?” you nuzzled further into him, giving him small nods as you tried to disappear into your husband and his comforting touch, “lost our target. set us back 3 months.” he hummed thoughtfully, his right hand leaving your waist as he threaded his fingers into your hair. his thumbs pressed against your scalp as you let out a small moan, becoming putty in his hands.

“��s not your fault.”

“i know. still feels like it.”

“i know.”

the silence was comfortable, a warm blanket on a rainy day. your husband was a strong man, always strong for his task force, for the duty required of him. he hid it well, disarming with his muttonchops and fatherly nature, but there was stone under him, a fortress. with you, though, he was just a man with his wife. selfishly indulgent and unselfishly caring, open in only places you could reach.

“when are we retiring? getting that cottage where we always talked about.” he let out a small chuckle, kissing the crown of your head as he maneuvered to tuck you both in bed for the night. “whenever you want. you’re the one who keeps holding out.” he slipped you both under the covers. powerful arms able to keep you around him as he moved the blankets out of your way. “i know. seems like there’s always another mission. always another need to save the world.” his closeness wore you down, honesty running out of you like a faucet.

“what about our world? where we’re just husband and wife?” you hummed thoughtfully. john price was a man of duty, of loyalty, but at the end of the day, he had a man’s wants and needs. all he needed was you, safe, with him. “soon, baby. soon.” you weren’t lying. the next mission was your last. you needed him to yourself too much to pretend anymore. john was laying down now, your leg thrown over his legs as you spread your arms on his chest. “i love you.” you said into the darkness, eyes already closing at the comforting scent of his sheet detergent. “love you to the stars, sweetheart.” john price found elusive, peaceful sleep, comforted by your touch again.

—

are there two captains on the same base? i don’t care!

my first time writing price…tried to show his maturity without giving grandpa lol

#john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x you #john price #captain john price #cod price #price x reader #captain price x reader #price’s wife #cod 141 #fluff #tornadothoughts

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year ago

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Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there.

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here.

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring.

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted.

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall.

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub.

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them.

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper.

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck.

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night.

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs.

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers.

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…”

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home.

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming.

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you.

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips.

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees.

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth.

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes.

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss.

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy.

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again.

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet.

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool.

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?”

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off.

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…”

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them.

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday.

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him.

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply. An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing.

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief.

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth.

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur.

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver.

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire.

“Back. Pass me that cushion?”

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top.

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip.

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.”

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers.

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that.

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him.

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right.

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss.

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder.

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck.

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum.

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different.

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out.

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap.

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.”

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour.

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough.

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself.

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass.

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates.

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful.

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?”

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk.

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body.

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck.

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too.

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow.

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck.

“But you’re so comfortable.”

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you.

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face.

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you.

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate.

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids.

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile.

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July).

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner.

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night.

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again.

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze.

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave.

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight.

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you.

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest.

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun.

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose.

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes).

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve.

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him.

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up.

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair.

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face.

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family.

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table.

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down.

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume.

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?”

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours).

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation.

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle.

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary.

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.”

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee.

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?”

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max).

“The nice stuff? Syrup?”

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?”

“In the syrup?”

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.”

“Which one?”

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.”

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.”

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now.

“Magic word?”

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand.

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task.

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down.

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is.

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table.

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips.

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week.

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer.

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.”

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup.

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first.

You smile to yourself and start plating up.

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides.

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves.

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face.

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth.

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.”

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.”

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste. He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet.

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s.

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created.

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face.

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her.

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls.

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind.

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep.

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table.

What a treat.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

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