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saetoru · 2 years

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[ STILL THE SAME ] MIYA ATSUMU.

“baby, before ya get mad—”

“atsumu, do i even want to hear it?” you sigh, pinching your nose and exhaling. he pouts, looking at you with curled lips and furrowed brows as you stare back unimpressed.

atsumu asking you not to get mad is almost always a headache-inducing scheme that probably takes a few years off your life, and you’re not really in the mood to test your mortality for your handful of a husband at the moment. but something tells you he’s not going to drop it any time soon, so you simply sigh before motioning for him to continue.

“okay, i’m ready,” you say warily, “spit it out before i get a migraine.”

“i…uh, i can’t find ma weddin’ ring,” he says quietly, fiddling with his fingers as he refuses to meet your eyes. you blink, processing his words before they really register.

oh.

and now that you look closely, there’s almost a slight tremble to his lips, the tiniest wobble that he tries to fight back as he meets your eyes with glossy ones of his own. and suddenly, your heart clenches as you take a step forward and cup his cheek.

“aw, tsum,” you murmur, tracing the soft skin of his cheek with your thumb, reaching to pinch his nose affectionately with your other hand, “that’s okay. we can go find you a new one, a fancier one this time now that we have more—”

“but ‘ts not the same,” he sniffles, pouting at you deeper as he leans his face closer into your hand.

atsumu proposes to you the night before his first msby game, just a young rookie player with the beginning of a career beneath his feet. he accidentally blurts out please marry me when you squeal over his new jersey, and when you pause, shock clear on your face as you shakily whisper that’s not fair, tsum, he pulls out a ring from his pockets like he’s been waiting for this moment for weeks.

and he has—he’s young and hasn’t even made a decent earning yet, doesn’t even fully know how his credit score works, still calls his mother to ask how to start the laundry machine, but he knows he wants to marry you like he knows the ball will be ready for his teammates to spike as long as he’s on the court.

so you kiss him in your dingy little living room, tearfully pulling him close after you whisper yes, and he slides the best diamond he can afford with his carefully earned savings onto your finger. it’s the same ring that he’s been trying to lump together enough money to buy, the one he’s had his heart set on for a while now. and when you blow him a small kiss from the bleachers before his turn to serve the next day, the slight glimmer of the ring catching his eye, he brings you home the most service aces of the game.

and he’s come a long way since then—a starting setter for a v. league division one team, sponsorship offers left and right, magazine covers as a well-known athlete, an olympic champion. you’ve watched him grow, watched him beam proudly as you move into a larger home, one with fancy windows and hardwood floors, but you watch him stay the same atsumu you fall in love with when you’re just figuring out how the world works and where you fall in it.

he’s still the same atsumu who snores too loud and hogs the blanket, the same atsumu who can’t cook to save his life but makes you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had, the same atsumu who wears mismatched socks and never checks his pockets before he puts his pants in the laundry. he’s still the same atsumu who calls his brother a scrub but helps clean the onigiri miya tables during closing hours on his way home from practice, the same atsumu who sometimes gets homesick and misses his mom after he calls her every morning, the same atsumu who never falls asleep without pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering i love ya no matter how mad you are at each other before bed.

so you smile, squeeze his cheeks together as he looks at you miserably, pressing scattered kisses across his face like the sun meets your lips with each one.

“did you check the bathroom counter,” you raise a brow, giggling when his face flushes a light shade of crimson.

“i might’ve forgotten about that one,” he chuckles sheepishly, “ya might not want ta go in the bedroom for a while—’s a mess in there.”

“you tore up our whole bedroom before checking there?” you roll your eyes, making the pout return from earlier. and he’s still the same atsumu who makes your veins pop and your eyes roll, the same atsumu who’s as stubborn as he is obnoxious, the same atsumu who makes you question your choices at least three times a day—but you think he’s worth it when his eyes meet yours and the breath gets knocked from your lungs.

“i’ll clean it,” he defends, “ya’ll be able ta eat off the floor when ‘m done in there.”

“we’ll be lucky if we still have a floor anymore when you’re done trying to clean,” you snort, pinching his cheek as he scowls at you. and with a playful roll of his eyes, he plants two warm hands on your waist, familiar and safe as they pull you flush against a sturdy chest.

miya atsumu, when he kisses you just as sweetly as the first time, as the night he proposes to you, as the day he marries you, as he did last night and the night before that, reminds you just why you said yes all those years ago.

“don’t be mean,” he grumbles, making you laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck, “if i lose ma ring, ya’ll have no proof ‘m yer husband. what then?”

“then i’ll do this so everyone knows you’re my husband,” you wink cheekily before pressing another kiss to his lips, smiling into them as he melts against you with a soft sigh.

for my love sayu's champagne kisses collab @tahdashii !! sjdsdfh technically it's about a wedding ring instead of an actual wedding but i hope it counts sobsob

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fluff

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miraclewoozi · 9 months

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NETFLIX AND-- ? - c.hs

you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing.

pair; vernon x fem reader. genre; domestic smut. MINORS DNI. wc; 2.3k (short n sweet <3) note; saw a prompt while i was scrolling through some things and it had me feeling feelings. experiencing experiences. apparently i am soft needy for him today. barely proof read. smut tags utc. xoxo

smut tags; soft!dom/service top vernon but he’s also a fucking tease. fingering (f rec). sort of edging, more of a continued stop/start. squirting. implied that vernon has a praise kink (shock horror). let me know if i've forgotten any.<3

in your defence, you started out with perfectly innocent intentions.

vernon works himself too hard. you wish he wouldn’t, but he does — it’s a fact, and even though he’ll always shake his head and deny it, you know it’s true. self care, to him, is working. it’s in the fulfilment from a job well done. it’s the clap on a shoulder from a higher-up that recognises how hard he’s been slaving away at his computer screen. it’s in getting results, and he doesn’t get results if he doesn’t do. if he doesn’t maintain. if he doesn’t nigh-on exhaust himself for the sake of the company he’s employed by.

so, you’ve made a plan. on friday, in the few hours he’ll have free between finishing work and settling down to sleep, you’re going to do whatever you can to look after him.

it starts with dinner. heartfelt, home-cooked food. he drops his bag by the front door and his entire face turns so soft he thinks it might melt clean off him. the aromas from the kitchen hit him and he floats across the apartment like a cartoon, all the way to where you’re stood waiting for him, a sort of dopey grin spreading across every single one of his features.

“that smells so good,” he whines, putting his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. when you ask how his day went, he says he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care. because he’s home now, and because loves you so much — he doesn’t want to think about anything else.

he clings to you until the food is ready and laid out on the dining table, only pulling himself away when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to be able to have his dinner sitting in your lap.

you eat together with the lights slightly dimmed, a few candles illuminating the table. you talk, a little, but the quiet that surrounds the bubbles of conversation is just as comfortable, so neither of you are bothered when your minds are more focused on the food in front of you than conversing with each other. after, he helps you clear the dishes and stack them over by the sink: you’ll deal with them later on.

your hand finds his, then, fingers intertwining, and vernon lets himself be dragged all the way to your bedroom. he changes out of his work clothes, tosses them into the laundry basket, and slips into an old, worn, stained and atrociously ugly pair of sweatpants instead. he bypasses a shirt at your instruction and lies face-down with his head nestled between the pillows.

with one of his own playlists already filling the air around you, you straddle over his hips and start to massage your way up his back. your hands smooth over his skin, thumbs working at a couple of tight spots that have him gasping and grunting, threading his fingers through his own hair to try and keep still. it hurts a bit, but it’s a good kind of pain. so, he lets you work your magic on him; vernon feels all soft and loose, a bit like a deflated balloon animal, by the time you sit up enough for him to be able to roll over between your legs and face you again.

“i thought we could watch a movie tonight, too,” you say quietly, just barely audible over the soft r&b tune in the background. your fingertips tickle up and down his sides as you speak; he sighs at the softness of your touch. “anything you want.”

“what’s all this in aid of, exactly?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. his voice is deep and kind of rough-edged. the way you like it most.

you laugh, quietly, and bend low to kiss the corner of his mouth, caging him in with your forearms either side of his head. “just… because i love you.”

his hands snake up your body to rest against your cheeks and he holds you in place for a second longer. one of the many, many things you love about vernon is the way he kisses you. every time, like it’s the first time. (a symptom of being a closeted rom-com enthusiast, perhaps?) but each press of his lips to yours is always so infused with passion: even the small ones, like this. with his eyes closed, his nose pressed to your cheek, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a shy smile. there’s adoration in every single moment.

you roll off him when he lets go of you and sit up against the headboard, letting him go through the motions of choosing something for you to watch. a few minutes (and no less than three coin tosses to make the decision) later, you open an arm out for him at the sound of the movie starting, and he curls up into your side. his head rests peacefully on your shoulder, one of his legs hooked over one of yours, your arm snaked around his back. you settle into each other’s embrace in a way that you’ve not had time to do in a long while, matching hums of tranquillity vibrating in both of your throats.

the grand budapest hotel has only been playing for about twenty minutes when you feel him start to move slightly, the tips of his fingers gliding slowly across the hem of your t-shirt. you don’t make anything of it at first, because vernon has always had slightly restless hands, no matter what he’s doing. this is very normal for him. he’s probably just mindlessly feeling the fabric beneath his touch as he watches one of his favourite movies.

another few minutes pass and you feel his nails drag against the bare skin of your tummy. you raise an eyebrow and look at him, but his eyes are trained on the tv, even if one side of his mouth is lifted up in a sly kind of smile.

“what are you doing, babe?” you ask him. he lifts his head from its place on your shoulder and shrugs.

“nothing.”

“mhm, sure you aren’t.”

his hand moves down, then. down, towards your shorts. down, to where his palm wraps around your thigh, half resting on the material of your clothes and half sitting on your bare leg. his fingers make small, light, circular movements against your skin and he nudges your other thigh over slightly with the knee he settled between your legs earlier, effectively spreading you open for him. just a little.

just enough.

“vernon,” you chuckle, but you don’t make any attempt to move your legs back together. “come on, relax. watch your movie.”

“i am,” he says matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “wish i could say the same for you, though.”

“you’re terrible,” you sigh.

“mm. no, i’m not.”

he creeps further and further up your thigh, until his hand has slipped completely under your loose fitting sleep shorts and he’s effectively pulling them to one side. a breath catches in your throat and you accidentally arch a little as you feel him brush over your underwear.

“watch the movie,” he says, a little more sternly, and you swallow thickly but settle down more comfortably again. if this is how he chooses to decompress… who are you to stop him, really?

but he knows you too well. knows your body like it’s his own. knows exactly how to make you tick without making you jump his bones and take control. his thumb starts to trace small circles over your covered clit, eliciting quiet gasps from your mouth, but every time you react – what he deems to be – a little too much, he stops. removes the pressure. leaves you to squirm.

“vernon,” you sigh after the third time, agitated but needy and squaring your jaw at his teasing. your panties are soaked by now and you need to feel more of him, but your boyfriend seems to be more than happy to work you up on his own terms. how long will he keep going like this for? there’s at least an hour left of the film; surely he won’t make you wait that long?

“focus, baby.”

or maybe, he will.

his lips find home at the base of your neck and he presses a series of small kisses to your skin, returning his thumb to your panties and rubbing you through them a little harder, pressing the fabric into your heat, smirking at the way your arousal seeps through them and coats his fingertips. your breaths start to pick up again, and you do everything you can to stop him from noticing, but he’s maybe a little too caught up sucking the sweet spot behind your ear to notice how fast your heart is beating from the way he touches you.

so when he drags your underwear out of the way and slides an elegant finger through your folds, you really don’t think you can be blamed for the fact that an unstifled moan leaves your lips.

vernon disagrees, though. because of course he fucking does.

“baby,” he challenges you, his finger just millimetres away from your clit when he stops moving it. “come on. you wanted to help me unwind tonight, didn’t you? that’s what all this was. you were being good to me.”

you nod at him, and he kisses your neck again.

“then watch.”

keeping your mouth tightly shut and fighting against the noises that your body so desperately wants you to make, you let him continue. you let him trace your arousal over your clit, let him dip his finger lower and press just enough inside you that your walls flutter around it. you let him work deeper, and add a second, and try your best not to clamp your legs around his poor wrist when he brushes against the sweet-spot inside you the way that only he knows how.

“s’that feel good, baby?” he asks you.

your eyes are all but glazed over and you don’t think you really know what’s going on in the movie anymore. you can’t remember the names of the characters. is there even a plot? or is it all just pretty, symmetrical imagery now? who the hell is the person that just showed up – surely you haven’t seen him, yet? fuck, you’re completely, hopelessly lost in his fingers and the way they’re buried inside your pussy. every reaction you want to give, you can’t, and it’s so difficult.

but you nod at him anyway, because the least you can do is tell him he’s doing a good job. he likes to hear that sort of thing.

and if there’s any dialogue in the grand budapest hotel, you don’t have a damn clue what’s being said. his fingers move faster inside you and the heel of his hand puts enough pressure on your clit that all of your muscles are tight in an attempt to do what he’s asked. the only sounds in your ears are the smacking of his lips on your throat and the lewd noises that come from the way your pussy sucks his digits in deeper.

you feel like a little toy, wound up to high heaven. waiting, waiting, waiting to be released. waiting to fall into oblivion.

“vernon,” you gasp eventually, silently begging that he won’t stop, that he won’t leave you hanging when you’re so close to the edge.

thankfully, he doesn’t.

“mhm?” he curls his fingers again, a little harder, making you buck up into his hand. whatever game he was playing, he seems to be moving past it now. maybe he wants you to come as much as you do.

“close,” you strain. he nods, slowly, positioning his wrist differently so that he can lay his thumb over your clit instead. the much more deliberate pressure has you seconds away from seeing stars.

“m’gonna ask you about this movie tomorrow, you know,” he chuckles, but he doesn’t slow. he fucks his fingers into you over and over, bringing you closer and closer, and when your toes curl, when you grip his wrist with one hand, when your head falls back against the headboard –

euphoria rushes through you. wetness gushes from you. you feel your pussy contract around his fingers, hugging them tight even though your release tries to expel them; he lets you ride the high out, lets you make a mess on his hand as your hips roll down to meet him, a series of whines and moans falling from your lips. his own continue their gentle caress of your neck. you’re in bliss.

he pulls his fingers from you when you tug at his wrist to tell him to do so, lifting them to his mouth and sucking them clean of your arousal and your release. you close your eyes when he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and his (granted, still kind of sticky) hand comes up to cup your face.

adoration in every moment. like it’s the first.

“don’t bother asking me about it,” you tell him as he pulls away, bumping your nose against his and hearing, from the quiet wet smacking sound they make, how his lips grow into a smile. “i don’t know anything that happened.”

“this is the fourth time i’ve tried to get you to watch this movie, y/n,” he chuckles.

“and this is the fourth time we’ve ended up here. what, does tilda swinton in that ugly wig really do it for you or something?”

“shut up,” he snorts, ever so gently pushing your cheek to move your head away from him. “no-one ever said you had to give into me that easily.”

“oh, you shut up,” you huff, closing your thighs and feeling how your shorts and panties cling to you uncomfortably, only half covering you after he failed to put them back properly. “i was supposed to be helping you chill out. it’s not my fault that you can’t go five minutes without getting handsy.”

“it’s absolutely your fault,” he challenges, getting to his knees and facing you. you can see his cock tenting his sweatpants now and you’d be lying to say that it doesn’t stir something in the depths of your stomach. “you know i can’t resist you in those shorts.”

“you’re so stupid,” you grin, opening your legs up for him to settle between, and he moves over straight away.

“yeah, well,” he chuckles, reaching down to pull your t-shirt up off your head. “you happen to love my kind of stupid.”

thank u sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all greatly appreciated!<3

#vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #hansol smut #choi hansol smut #vernon chwe smut #vernon x reader #j writes.#*

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girldreaming · 1 year

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Lemon Color, Honey Glow

hiiii she’s so… honey… I couldn't stop listening to Lemon Glow by Beach House hence the title <3

pairing: service top!abby x afab!reader

summary: abby hangs out with her ex owen a little too long and reader gets insecure! (she will never escape him)

warnings: angsty, reader cries, established relationship, spit stuff, reader receives penetration via fingers and also receives oral, abby mouth fucks reader with her fingers? pet names used - sweetheart, doll, baby, (mama, slut, and champ are used once), alcohol mention, comfort and validation af

wc: 4.3k

minors do not interact fank yew

She’d been gone all damn day and you tried, really tried to distract yourself and relish in the alone time you’d thought would be used to self-reflect, pick up a new hobby, something! Anything productive actually.

But it just wasn't happening.

It’d been a slow morning filled with picking up the tiny apartment - if you could even call it that. You’d done all the laundry at least, gone to the cafeteria twice, and tried to read a book but still, you couldn’t stop spiraling.

Abby’s with Owen, Abby’s with her first love, Abby chose him to spend her day off patrol with, not you.

It was ringing in your ears like a gunshot every time you’d forgotten how alone you were. Like clockwork, whenever you'd found the perfect distraction, the conviction would just come barreling back. The feeling was no doubt due to the fact that Abby was your first love, almost your first everything and there was an unconscious possessiveness that came along with that. Which, of course, made it much fouler to think about, that there was a time in which she’d felt this for someone else and the fact that she would never feel it again, and certainly not for you.

Ergo, here you are, the moon barely grazing the skyline, getting ready for bed when you hear the unlocking of the front door, a flutter buzzing in your stomach. The heavy sound of it closing and the locks clicking back, however, makes your heart drop to the tile of the bathroom floor, the anticipation you’d been building all day coming to a grating boil. It would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that you'd been thinking about this moment for hours. Fucking hours. Now that she was here it only filled you with panic, the blood leaving your head, hands freezing in motion kind of panic. What were you even gonna say to her? What if she smells different? What if she saw him again the same way she did when she was a teenager? Everything about it just made you sick.

All of the insecure shit you thought you’d gotten rid of was baring its ugly teeth. The jealous, nasty parts of you want to push her away so terribly that she has no choice but to go back, simply so you don’t have to look at her and act like you haven’t been pacing all day, imagining killing him in every way you could possibly think of.

Even though you know deep down nothing happened, the humiliating weight of the possibility was enough for you to beat her to the punch.

So, naturally, you leave your place in the bathroom, following the sound of Abby’s booted feet to the kitchen. I can do this, I was normal today, you hype yourself up, or try to.

“Hi, baby.” She coos, pulling you into a hug. You don’t want to punish her but you also can’t help the way your body tenses as she squeezes you, hands around your waist.

You pull away first and she moves back in for a kiss, your lips connecting for a mere moment before she’s stepping back. She smells the same, tastes like something slightly familiar - alcohol?

“What was that?” She laughs nervously, making a face. God, you were so transparent with her it wasn’t fucking fair, couldn’t hide anything.

“Nothing.” You shrug, the panic building back up in your chest, this time though, it felt like you did something wrong, the shame coursing through your veins. Your fingers instinctively fidget with each other, quickly moving behind your back to hide them from Abby, who would clock your nerves pretty damn quick.

“You sure?” She doubles down, bending over to unlace her boots, kicking them off into the middle of the room. It takes everything in you not to bitch at her, ask her to put them away, ask her don't you know better?

You hum a response, not giving her enough time to question you before you ask, “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, Owen’s still Owen.” She smiles at you, leaning back against the countertop. The dagger of delusion you stabbed into your own heart twists, and you’d like to fall to your knees and scream but you must keep up the illusion you’ve so poorly curated for her.

“Yeah? Y’all have fun?” You distract yourself, picking her boots up from where she left them in the middle of the kitchen and returning them to where the rest of the shoes live.

“We snuck out.”

A deep breath leaves you, body tensing. You shake your head, “Abigail, what the fuck is wrong with you.” and she just laughs.

The entire time she was gone today, the aspect of her safety not once crossed your mind, and that made you feel. so. much. fucking. worse. The all too familiar knot builds at the back of your throat, threatening to take all of your words and swallow them whole.

“You know I’m smart about it, baby, I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?” Abby grins.

“I trust you, I do. I just would’ve liked to have known.” You seethe, a frown adorning your face as you stare at her across the room. You huff as you walk back to the bathroom, needing a second to gather your thoughts.

Unfortunately, the only thoughts that come are images of them running around, giggling together as they sneak past the gates. You can already hear her socked feet following yours, causing you to hurry in and splash water on your face, it's fine. everything is fine.

“Don’t you wanna hear about my adventure? I found you somethin' doll, you’re gonna fucking love it.” She gushes - a rare and adorable occurrence - while leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as you turn off the faucet.

“M’ really tired, Abs, can you tell me in the morning?” You sigh.

“I’ve got patrol tomorrow.”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

“All day?” The dagger twists again, you'll be bleeding out soon, you think.

“Won’t get back until Friday morning, maybe Thursday night.” Abby shrugs, not too sure what the plan is.

It’s Tuesday. Yes. Definitely bleeding out now.

You try your hardest to look up, to stop the tears from forming but it’s not possible, the presence of her only making it more difficult to push down. Your signature lip quiver was the straw that broke the camel's back, Abby’s face instantly falling as she takes the two steps to be directly in front of you, grabbing your cheeks. It should feel comforting but you couldn't help but feel humiliated. You were trying so hard to regulate yourself and your emotions, but it was so difficult when you knew she was there to console you, regulate for you.

“Hey.” She breathes, your eyes squeezing shut, the tears falling with them and wetting her hands.

“What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?”

But you can’t speak, your throat feels like it was ripped out of your neck and you know no sound would come out even if you tried. So, you shake your head, and she hugs you again, the second time tonight you’re tense in her arms.

But she won’t let you go, so you relax, melting into her, your snot sticking to her shoulder where you bury your head.

She’s shushing your hiccups with a palm smoothing over the back of your head, holding you to her. You try to think about what you’re supposed to say next, if you should back down and go to sleep or have the conversation you’ve been rehearsing in your head for the past twelve hours.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffle into her shoulder, choosing neither. It’s quiet for a moment, a confirmation. She was too embarrassed to say, yes! My ex boyfriend and I drank too much of his homemade moonshine together, hope we don’t get botulism!

“Why are you so mad at me?” She whispers, her voice so fucking small. She sounds like a child who’s gotten into something they weren’t supposed to, meek.

It didn’t feel right, any of it. You can’t help the sob that falls out of you, shaking your head.

“I'm not.” you blubber, not very convincing.

“Do you want to be with him?” You utter, the delusions winning. They managed to take enough of your brain over to ask such a stupid, silly question that you already knew the answer to.

It was embarrassing, really, the way she pulled back, still holding you by your shoulders, a confused look on her face.

“What?” She blurts, her eyes moving around your features. You immediately look away, down at the ground, at the wall. Anywhere except her, the guilt eating you up and spitting you back out.

“You’re serious?” Abby snickers, covering her mouth, trying to control herself.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You croak, the tears slowing but your nose still running as you wipe it with your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I jus-“ She starts, hands leaving your shoulders, going to her temple. Turning around, then turning back around, she looks at you. Long and hard.

“Is that why you’re upset? You think I cheated on you with Owen? Fucking Owen?”

“S’not funny.” You practically wail, your hands shooting up to your face, hiding yourself from her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’s still laughing.

“Fuck you.” You spit, on a mission to get out of this small room with her. It wasn't because you’re that upset over her laughing at you, but the anger you feel at yourself has to go somewhere and you know you'll end up taking it out on her, which just wasn't fair.

“Hey, no, come here.” Abby's serious now, walking behind you as you sit on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry I was gone all day, really, that wasn’t my intention.” She mumbles as she squats down in front of you, her elbows resting on her knees, hands hanging between them.

“Well, it’s what happened.” You look down at her, blue eyes wide, apologetic.

“Do-do you want me to leave?” She stammers, mouth sitting open.

“No, I don’t want you to leave, Abby.” You grimace, rolling your eyes. You were still being mean and didn't know why.

“Don't like it when you roll your eyes at me."

"Abby, please." You sniffle, tears threatening to spill once again, you didn't want that part of her right now, just needed the nice part that was obsessed with you, and just you.

Your stuttered breaths interrupt the silence in the room, Abby’s temple resting on your knee in response, snuggling into you. She was obviously finding it difficult to let you ride out your mood on her, but knew she didn't have much of a choice.

“Today was so fucking hard.” You squeak.

“M’ sorry, pretty. I kept thinking it was over and then Manny showed up with Leah an-“ She starts, head detaching from your leg to look back up at you.

“It’s fine, seriously, just haven’t felt insecure like that in so long. I feel so crazy.” You interrupt, hoping the more you let it out of your body the more it’ll actually leave.

“Sweet girl.” She sighs, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your knee.

“I would’ve come home.”

“It’s so embarrassing.” You whine as you look up again, the ball in your throat reappearing, threatening. She’s still squatted before you, her hands beginning to rub the smooth of your thighs, shushes leaving her mouth as she tries to calm you down. You feel relief for the first time today, knowing she was here, choosing to be here.

"Shh, eyes on me." She directs, you tilt your head down to her, blue eyes studying yours. Her lips push out to a pout considering your state, puffy eyes, and red nose. She moves her head closer to your stomach, butterflies swarming.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” A peck to your inner thigh, which her palm is pushing apart.

“I’ve done worse without you.” She nods, breathing onto your exposed midriff, the hot air tickling, your own breath hitching. The memory of that instance comes flooding back. Your first and last four-day patrol without her.

She'd followed you around like a puppy as you were prepping, making sure you'd gotten first pick at the gun range. Not before having a long sit-down chat with those who you were being sent off with about you and your safety, the consequences that would follow had you not come back up in one piece. She'd followed you all the way to the car, a not-so-quick kiss and a soft "Be safe mama," farewell.

After you'd gotten back - with nothing more than a few scratches - you were told Abby hadn't slept the last two days of the trip and that she'd been an absolute menace to Isaac and anyone who had their hands on a radio. She'd gotten kicked out of the gym for hogging the equipment on top of the situation which supposedly had sent her into even more of a nosedive.

No one really likes to bring it up though, her face erupting in a tomato-red flush whenever you did.

"I know, my love." You sigh, hand reaching up to rest on her head, following her braid down to the band, pulling it out and placing the elastic on the bedside table.

"We should go to bed." You whisper. And you really wanted to, to end the evening as you did any other night, wanted to feel the same you did then. Wanted to feel like yourself again. It was obvious how tired Abby was, her eyelids falling after every word you spoke, her own body weighing her down.

"M' not done." She drawls onto your skin, nipping at the fat of your thighs, her hands planted on your hips, fingers kneading. The thought of asking her to take care of you had crossed your mind, but you shook it off in fear of demanding too much of her.

"Abs, you'll be exhausted tomorrow." Your hand still rests on her head, twisting the strands you set free around your fingers, pulling them until they untwine.

"Need to make it up to you, please." She groans, looking up at you, she was wide awake now, that's for sure.

"You don't owe me anything." You croon.

It's so hard, trying to shut down such an immovable force, and the fact she knows you need her just as badly doesn't help. Your legs are essentially spread for her, her palms pushing you apart, pinching at the skin of your inner thigh. Yet, it’s still surprising when you feel her fingers graze over your clothed core, the small wet spot causing her to groan into your skin, your face felt like it was glowing. When the fuck did that happen.

“You always get drenched when you cry, sweetheart?” She laughs as her eyes find yours.

“Only when it’s cause of you, Abby.” You practically purr, taking your hands out of her scalp and leaning on them behind you. The familiar coil begins to thaw inside your stomach, her body heat radiating, passing onto you.

"You are depraved." Leaves her with a chuckle, thinking for a moment, reading your face.

"Take your shirt off." She scoffs, climbing up onto your lap, straddling you as your hands reach the hem of your top, swiping it off. Her hands go straight to your face, holding your cheeks together, lips smushing with the wet, sloppy kisses she’s pressing onto them.

Your hands instinctively go to the back pockets of her cargo pants, pulling her impossibly closer, her ass taut in the tight fabric. She leans forward, the force of it putting you onto your back with an oof, teeth clacking together, kissing Abby through her smile.

Her covered knee slots between your thighs, the curve of her pressing against your thinly veiled clit. The cave of her mouth vibrates with your moans as she rolls you onto her thigh, hands rough, but steady. Your fingertips underneath her shirt, running along her abs seems to ignite the same fire that's living inside of you, her breath hitching when you reach the small swell of her breasts, palming and grasping at her, wishing it was feasible to tear her open and create a cavity the size of you.

“Got - fuck - gotta get these off, kay?” She rambles, eyes scanning your boxers, hers, she's just shy of drooling, or combusting.

You whimper at the loss of contact, hips instinctively lifting up as her hands wrap around the waistband of the shorts, tugging them off and tossing them to the ground. It was never balanced with her, you lying on the mattress bare while she hadn't taken off a damn sock.

She’s still straddling you, farther down over your knees. Her pants are somehow unbuttoned and her shirt messily skewed to the side. You just really couldn't get over her hair, god, it's frizzy and crimped from her braid yet framing her face so perfectly, draping over the expanse of her shoulders, golden threads cascading down her back.

"Can yo-" You start, hands fumbling with the bottom of her top but before you can finish she's already pulling it over her shoulders, bra following. Abby's mouth is immediately back on yours, palms pressing into the mattress at the sides of your head.

You whine when she leaves you again, weight on her knees as her fingers go to the roots of your hair, grabbing your scalp and craning your head up off of the bed. Her other hand sits at your chin, palm up as she looks down at you. Can't help but notice the look in her eye, the look she does when Abby knows she's broken down any bit of modesty you would've scurried away with and kept for yourself if it weren't for her sitting on top of you.

"Spit.”

Obeying, drool and saliva drip down out of your mouth, onto your chin, and then to her hand. Strings of your spit link the two of you until she breaks the cord, her palm connecting with your mound, barely moving, just enough to saturate you with your own saliva. Finally, she shifts, her middle finger sliding up and down your folds, circling slowly around your clit. She wants you to watch, you realize, her hand still in your hair, still holding you up. So you do, as two fingers sink into your aching slit, disappearing with a moan from you, and something of the sort from her.

Her other hand leaves your head, causing it to hit the mattress and your eyes to squeeze shut from the impact. She's already curled her fingers, squelching them in and out of you, hitting the spot that you could never reach, that you didn’t really know existed before Abby.

"That feel good? Feel full?"

mhm a little too good, you think.

"Little slower, Abs." You whimper, knowing how prone she was to getting ahead of herself and how easily you were gonna come like this. Wanted to take your time with her, make her work for it for a change. She crawls in between your knees, spreading your legs over her hard thighs.

"Shit - sorry you're fuckin' soaked." She pants, her pace slowing.

With her middle and ring finger still hooked inside of you, her other hand rolls under your back, shifting you farther up the mattress. She sets a new tempo, slowly surging.

"Better?" She asks, thumb dipping inside of your cunt, drawing out the wet and smearing it over your clit.

"Yes, f-uck," You moan, back arching, hips bucking up dying to feel her deeper and deeper. Her free hand scoops your leg up and rests behind your knee as she pushes onto you, now hovering over your limp frame. Her hand leaves your leg as it lazily hangs near her waist, her arm now inches away from your face as she supports herself. You can't look at her, you really can't, so you throw your head to the side and breathe into her forearm, your own wrapping around it, hand gently squeezing her flexed bicep.

"Did so good today, m' so proud of you." She mewls, adding a third finger. It's definitely a tight squeeze, your walls clenching around her, rejecting the speed she desires. "Gotta relax, sweetheart, it's just me."

You nod, trying to release the built-up stress you've been carrying all day, remembering that she was here, she was yours. Remembering what she taught you, deep breaths into your nose and out through your mouth. Even though it ached, you didn't want her to stop.

You feel her fingers leave you, your lips parting on instinct. As you anticipated, her fingertips run along the tip of your tongue, following the muscle back, farther and farther.

"That's it, just like that. You're so good." She purrs, eyes on your mouth, your lips closing around her. Can feel her fingers fucking your face, her other hand playing with your clit in incomplete, sloppy circles. She gives a final jolt, and you can’t believe you don't gag, but you’ll pat yourself on the back later. They’re back within you without missing a beat, the lubrication your spit provides allowing her to have her way, her speed.

"So fuckin' pretty takin' me, wish you could see yourself, champ."

"I believe you." You beam, grabbing her face to plant a fat kiss on her lips, trailing past her mouth to her cheek. A quiet "Jesus, fuck," spills from your throat without a second thought after her thumb bumps your clit just right.

“Whose fingers are these, huh?” She groans at the sight of you, wrapped around her, inside of you. Gotta make it better she thinks, gotta make it go away.

“Mine.” You breathe, clenching around her. You believe it too, at this point, they were fucking yours. But how couldn't you? The fingers you'd trace as you fell asleep, just to then have dreams of. The same ones that'd roamed every inch of you, threatening to kiss your organs if she went any fucking deeper, god.

“That’s fuckin’ right. There’s my girl.” She praises, the sweet sound dripping all over you like a syrup, coating, sticking to every cell. Her lips practically live on your jawline, your head back to being tilted, giving her full access. She's moaning like she feels it too, and maybe she can with the way your bodies are just about conjoined. Your hand shoots down to her wrist, holding onto it as she pummels you. A shiver tickles its way down your spine.

“Right there, please, s’so fucking deep, oh my god,”

“You think I’d fuck anyone else like this?” Is whispered into your neck, a moan of your own echoing off the walls. Your puffy eyes fill with tears again, though this time it’s from sheer satisfaction, pure comfort.

You shake your head no, "Just me, Abs."

It feels so nice to reassure yourself, so right, the validation from her beaming through you and the molten coil in your core threatening to burn.

"Only you, pretty." She smiles, punctuated by the lick of your nipple, the popping of it in and out of her mouth, and of course, teeth sinking into the flesh. She had quite the obsession with your chest, grabbing them often just to have something warm to hold.

“Ow,” You blush, your legs relaxing, spreading and making space for her as she scoots down.

“Fucking slut, you love it when I bite you, can feel it.” Another chomp, this time on your stomach. A nibble on your thigh. It was mortifying how much of you she recognized. So much of yourself you never thought would be shared with anyone else that Abby did next to nothing to get out of you.

All you can do is moan, clench around her, repeat.

Your eyes are closed when her tongue meets your core, moans being replaced with groans, her hand that was used to support herself now supporting you, wrapping around your thigh that's threatening to squish her head like a melon.

“Keep ‘em open, doll, you got it.” She breathes onto you, her arm realistically doing all the work.

“Abby, m’gonnacome,” You’re nodding, slowly, building up the courage to look at her, meeting her eyes as you do to find she’d been looking at you the whole time. "Please?" She mumbles into your cunt, sucking your clit inside of her mouth.

“God, please yes, fuck yes,” The rubber band finally snaps, your hands going to her scalp, to your thighs, grabbing, pulling. One of them settles on her hand on your thigh, which she grabs, holding you through your orgasm.

Your hips are grinding against her face and you use your leverage on her head to pull her off of you, quickly getting overstimulated. Abby’s got her pussy-drunk smile, eyes turning to slits from happiness being paired with exhaustion. She kisses the inside of your thigh, one last peck on your swollen bud before her fingers reappear, glimmering with you.

"Mmm, you gotta pee, sweetheart." Is all she says before she collapses onto her side on the mattress, a small huff following. You're still catching your breath, feeling your rapid heartbeat slug to its typical pace. She definitely wasn't asleep, but she sure as shit wasn't conscious.

"Baby, your pants." You heave.

Abby grumbles, fingers fumbling with her zipper.

"I'm gonna get you some water, don't move." You insist, feeling your body snap back together as you stand up, only slightly seeing stars. In the kitchen, you wet a rag for her and clean yourself up with one while you're there, before grabbing a couple of cups.

"Gonna show me what you got?" You speak up to reach the room, two glasses of water in hand as your bare feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. At the lack of response, you pick up your strides toward the bedroom. It was so quiet at this point in the night - or early morning. Hard to tell. So peaceful.

"Abs?"

As you peek your head into the doorway you're met with her, sprawled out on her stomach, naked, and softly snoring.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #the last of us #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson fic

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deathbypufferfish · 1 year

Text

It's finally done cooking, my sims gameplay ideas list! After scouring all types of sites, generators, lists, and my brain for ingredients, I've come up with a list stew that hopefully will spark some inspiration for your sims gameplays!

This non exhaustive list consists of ideas that are applicable to sims gameplay/things to do in-game. AKA things that can be played out in the sims or half pretended. If you're looking for less-gameplay story ideas, I recommend my story/conflict idea list. Most of the conflict and love ideas are on that list. Please feel free to send asks to add to the gumbo! Just note in your ask that it's for the gumbo and keep it applicable/feasible for gameplay. (To keep the post from getting too long I'll make a contributor list into a compressed image later on for those who send off-anon.)

If you are looking for more complex, in-game story ideas check out the Story Soup list here!

🍲 Gumbo below the cut! ⬇

Single Sim Gameplay:

Learn an instrument

Learn a new skill

Start a seashell collection (Island Living)

Have a sim get a bad haircut

Enroll an Adult/Elder sim in university

Use a skill you don’t usually play with

Become a mountain climber

Build a Servo

Take care of local strays

Use more likes/dislikes

Conflict:

Drop out of or fail university

Drop out or fail out of highschool

Talk badly about another sim in your house to other sims

Sim loses their job

Failed retail business

Family:

Foster a child

Parties for children

Have a baby shower

Have a slumber party

A grandparent/other family member moves in with your main household

Have a specific family holiday tradition besides the in-game ones

Family bike rides

Game night

Parent trains child in their sport

Family hikes at Granite Falls

Family volunteering

Bake sale (entrepreneur table)

Have a family photoshoot

Have teens study at the library

Have your teen go through a bad fashion phase

Host an exchange student

Make school picture day photos (Teen poses, children poses)

Have an arts & crafts day

Go fishing as a family

Have a specific weekly meal (spaghetti night, a fancy meal)

Make ice cream together (Cool Kitchen Stuff)

Wear matching pajamas for holidays

Have a bake off

Play with voidcritters (Kids Room Stuff)

Granola family (camping, hiking, low tech, simple living)

Play in a multi-generational household

Adopt

Family reunion

Unexpected baby

Have siblings share a room

Social/Activities:

Sports party night (e.g. watching the superbowl, world cup, etc)

Start a book club (with clubs)

Have a themed kids birthday party (Here’s a helpful website for ideas)

Have a potluck (buffet tables)

Garden party

Neighborhood party

Neighborhood holiday decorating contest

Host a haunted house in your home

Picnic

Barbeque party

Go to the arcade

Go regularly to restaurants (Dine Out Reloaded Mod to make restaurants tolerable)

Have an out of control party (maybe a teen party)

Go camping

Go to an Ice skating rink/roller skating rink

Spa day (at home or at a spa)

Make an army of snowpals

Movie night

Stargazing night/camp out in the backyard

Weekly bowling night

Museum trip

Karaoke night at home

Campfire night

Pool day

Weekly meetups with friends at a cafe

Try on wedding dresses with a bridal party

Have someone stay over (Growing Together)

Love:

Hook up with a service sim

Have a vacation romance

Have a “meet the parents” moment

Have an affair

Divorce

Marital fight

Rejected proposal

Throuple/Open Relationship (Open Love Life Mod)

Left at the altar

Use fear of commitment, jealous, or unflirty trait

Create a rocky marriage

Challenges:

Spend too much money on a vacation

Play with lot challenges

Use simple living (only cook with ingredients and do grocery orders)

Don’t clean up after sims (don’t drag plates, laundry, trash)

Use the Reduce and Recyle lot challenge for realism

Use the Filthy lot challenge to make cleaning harder

Lose a large sum of money

Randomize your sims’ traits as they age up

Household:

Have puppies and kittens

A serious house fire (either with cheating or with fireworks. There is also a mod for more intense fires here

Spring cleaning

Garage sale

Visit houses before you move into them

Create a storage room/attic (Eco Living boxes, Discover University chest, toy chest, treasure chest etc) Use this for old heir’s items if you are playing a legacy

Start a garden (herb, vegetables)

Renovate the house

Watch what your pets are doing

Adopt a stray animal

Teach your pets tricks

Upgrade objects

Have a home bar/rec room

Go on a vacation

Play with roommates (additionally have them be odd, difficult, or a romance option)

Have an always messy home

Hire a live-in butler

Hire a regular maid

Location:

Play in a sustainable community on one of the islands/isolated areas. (community farm, community space, homes)

Play in a tiny home (Tiny Living)

Play in a haunted house residential (Paranormal Stuff)

Become an Archaeologist. Live in Sulani and regularly visit Selvadorado for work

Career/Business:

Bookstore

Art gallery: sell your paintings or buy them off Plopsy/Buy Mode

Bakery

Play a career you don’t usually play

Winter sports store in Mt. Komorebi

Own a farmstand for your produce (Eco Lifestyle entrepreneur table) You can even build a small building for it on your property!

Pet supplies store

Plant store

Tourist gift shop

Mattress/Bed store

Florist shop (Flower Arranging Skill)

Juicery (Juice Fizzing Skill)

Yoga studio (host classes at a retail business or at a home studio)

Start a Bed and Breakfast/AirBnB with the roommate system

Become a celebrity in a path besides Actor/Actress (Author, Chef, Video Creator, Skier, etc.)

Food truck (Restaurant)

Fish stall (Entrepreneur table)

Make a living on Plopsy

Wool store (Cottage Living)

Natural health store (Herbalism)

Resources Used

ADAM DRIVER GIF DISCLAIMER: YES I KNOW IT'S A STEW

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 resource #simblr #sims 4 #ts4 inspo #sims 4 ideas #ts4 ideas #ts4 gameplay #puffer's gameplay gumbo #sorry there isnt a good stew gif my bad #i picked gumbo because it starts with a g #it could be a fucking lasgana i dont care #also addition asks to sections with less ideas are most welcome

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

take care |modern!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: after a long day at work, you just wanted to relax. eddie makes sure you can.

contains: our fav modern!eddie and his lil mean girl. language, mentions of weed, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, aftercare and fluff, minors dni 18+

You could feel your fists clench, knuckles tight and whitening when you shoved your key in the door, agitation eating you from the inside out.

Today had been a particularly horrible day to work retail. Spring always meant prom season, which meant whiny teenagers spilled in with their bossy mothers, demanding shades of foundation for the spray tan they didn’t have yet, slamming them on the counter furiously when it inevitably didn’t match- because you were supposed to be mind reader. But you couldn’t say that to them, couldn’t snap at them the way you wanted to, only taking deep breath in, giving a dazzling customer service smile, and apologizing for your mistake.

The knots in your neck were agonizing from straining all day, feet aching from the little black boots you wore, a sweat breaking out on your neckline. All you wanted to do was go home, drown yourself in the cheap bottle of wine you had in the fridge, and sink into a bubble bath until your skin pruned away entirely. But you knew you wouldn’t get to do that.

When you’d got off, you sat in your car, scrolling through messages, your lips pressing further together into a tight line. There sat the string of TikTok notifications from Eddie on your screen, constant and too many for you to look at. It wasn’t the videos that pissed you off, it was the fact that he had sent them all day. All day, and you knew- you just knew he hadn’t done anything you asked him to do.

You’d left him that morning, sweet kisses pressed to his cheek, fingers trailing down his tummy, still soft and warm from sleep. “I started a load of laundry, can you just switch it over to the dryer please?” You asked softly.

Eddie nodded, pulling you back in for one last kiss before you left, still propped up in the bed. You’d slipped out, going to work. When you returned, you were greeted by Eddie on the couch, blunt rolling smoke in the tray beside him, hunched over with his headset on, screaming into the mic and eyes trained on his PlayStation. He’d muttered a greeting, tongue out in focus playing some fantasy type game, eyes never leaving the screen.

You could feel your shoulders tense, jaw setting when you slammed the door behind you. You didn’t take off your shoes, didn’t set down your purse, stomping straight down the hall towards the small closet where your washer and dryer sat. You lifted the lid, the mildewish, soured smell of wet towels filling your nose.

The bubble of calmness you’d kept all day popped, exploding in hot rage out of you. You dropped your purse, reaching in to grab one of the still soaking wet towel, heavy and wet on your hands.

You marched in front of Eddie, blocking his view, fuming with the towel in your hand. “Baby, one sec, I’m almost-“ Eddie stopped, eyes trained on the towel.

He flicked up the mic to his headset just in time for you ball up the towel, throwing it so it thudded against his chest. You jammed your finger in the button of the PlayStation, powering it off furiously. Eddie grimaced slightly, slipping the headset off.

“I asked you to do one goddam thing!” You screamed, throwing your hands out.

“Baby, I forgot-“

“-You always forget, Eddie!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. His eyes rounded slightly, pleading and sorry. You snarled, shaking your head and stomping towards your room.

You plopped on your bed, angrily ripping your shoes off. It was a constant fight since he’d moved in. Towels left on the bathroom floor, not putting down the toilet seat, forgetting to start the dishwasher, putting the coffee cups up too high.

You bristled with anger, jaw grinding and huffing. All you’d asked him to do was one thing. One. You didn’t give a shit that he stayed on your couch, that he played his game all day, only leaving to get food or do a deal. You didn’t care, really. But what you did care about was when he disrespected your space; you. You’d had this fight already, about him helping you around the apartment- your apartment.

You tried to be understanding, it was clear he wasn’t doing it maliciously. He didn’t have a good home life, and his uncle raised him the best he could, but Wayne was too busy working to make sure their lights stayed on to worry about if Eddie’s room was clean. As long as Eddie was clean, he didn’t care. That was clear when you’d gone into his room once, staying at the trailer one night only, scared by the ecosystem growing under his bed.

But on days like today, days when your nerves were shot and the last thing you wanted was to deal with things like that, it infuriated you. There were no clean towels for a bath, so your afternoon plans to soak were destroyed, which made you fume all over again.

You could hear Eddie starting the laundry, the small trill of the chimes on the machine starting. You rolled your eyes, pulling your shirt off, balling it up and tossing it in the hamper.

The door’s hinges squeaked softly, Eddie’s footsteps soft and muffled against the carpet. You ignored him, pushing down your black jeans into a puddle on the ground.

“Baby, ’m sorry.” Eddie whispered softly from behind you. You felt his fingers ghost over your hips, trailing over the silky material of your panties.

You huffed, wiggling out of his grasp. “Don’t.” You snapped. “I had a really shitty day and all I wanted was to take a bath. I’m disgusting and-and… just don’t touch me right now.” You hissed, holding your hand up.

Eddie nodded, eyes trained on your chest, watching you unclasp your bra, breasts falling free. He swallowed hard, putting his hands in front of his sweatpants. “I’m so sorry, baby. I forgot, really.” He cooed sweetly, taking a step towards you.

You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out a big tshirt, soft with wear, and a pair of fresh underwear. Eddie took another step forward. “Did you have a bad day?”

You huffed, slamming the drawers. “Yeah, I did.” You snapped. “And this didn’t make it any better. I got bitched at all fucking day, and I just wanted to come home and relax.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sighed sympathetically. “I’ll go run to Target and get you a towel if you want me to. You can get in the bath and I’ll be right back.”

“No,” You huffed, pushing your underwear down. His eyes widened slightly. “I just- I want you to do shit when I ask you to.”

“I know,” Eddie nodded, stepping towards you again. “I know, I’m sorry, baby, I swear I didn’t mean to. I just- I forgot honestly.” He hesitated, reaching out to touch you, slow and soft. You were bare in front of him, arms crossed over your chest, glaring angrily at him but you didn’t push him away.

He pulled you close, your crossed arms in his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, pressing sweet kisses into your cheek. His hands rubbed up and down your back, slow little circles that had you relaxing slightly, melting further into his chest.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered into your cheek. You huffed, pouty and breathy into his chest. “Let me take care of you.” His hands trailed down your spine, squeezing the fat of your ass.

You whined, pulling back. “I’m gross, Ed, no.” You protested lightly, his hands still kneading your cheeks. “I’ve worked all day. I’m sweaty and gross.”

“You’re not gross.” Eddie muttered, nose nuzzling into your hair line, breathing in your scent deeply. “C’mon, let me help you relax, baby. ‘S least I can do. Make it up to you.”

You hesitated, the kisses he was trailing down your neck were making you relax enough already. You whimpered when he sucked lightly into the nape of your neck, his hands still grabbing your ass.

“C’mon, lay down, baby, I got you.” Eddie coaxed gently.

You melted into the mattress, letting him lay on top of you, hips rolling and grinding into you. You blamed the sweatpants, they were your weakness. You could always see his dick outlined in them, so casual and innocent. You were always dropping to your knees when he wore them.

Eddie wedged his body between your legs, sliding down the mattress, trailing kisses between your breasts, down your sternum, towards your core until his shoulders had your thighs spread wide around him. He could feel the heat off your pussy, radiating and warming the tip of his nose before he ever touched you. His hands ran up your torso, smoothing over the skin of your tummy, squeezing your breasts before sliding back down your waist, pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, over your mound, teasing.

“Stop,” you whined, high pitched and nasally, wiggling your hips towards his face. Your brows creased, pouting when you looked down at him.

He grinned softly, hand pulling your thighs apart further, tongue running over his bottom lip before he licked you, slow from your hole to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nub. Eddie moaned loud, enough to have vibrations sending shockwaves to your bundle of nerves making you arch.

“You taste so good, baby, fuck.” Eddie rasped, licking another long stripe, eyes closing and fingers digging into your thigh.

You whimpered, hands threading through his curls. You loved that he kept his hair long. He looked so different from all the other guys, wild curls that always seemed to have your hands in them, playing with the ringlets sweetly. You loved when he'd let you style it, load it with products and diffuse it, or put a mask in it in the bath, clipping it up sweetly while you soaked. Eddie loved it too, he loved that you loved it, loved that you'd scratch his scalp and coo at him, so sweet and giggly.

You were a whirlwind, an enigma of personality. Sweet and sour, he called you his little 'sour patch kid' and while he always played it off like he was joking, you both knew deep down he was being serious. He knew you were just high strung, wound a little tight, and the snapping and snarky comments were a defense, a default when you felt out of control. He knew you could be sweet, knew you were sweet, you were so sweet to him.

You whined, wiggling your hips closer and closer to him, sighing heavy when he sucked at your clit. “That feels good…” You mumbled, hips jumping towards his mouth.

Eddie grinned, another long lick to your slit that had you reeling. “Mmm, I’m glad.” He kept his lips against your core when he said it, he knew you liked it like that. He knew you liked the vibrations, how they’d tickle your clit and make you clench. He didn’t even have to use his fingers, could have you coming undone with his tongue alone.

You whimpered, feeling his hand press against your lower tummy, thighs tightening when he ran a soft hand up and down your belly to your chest, rolling your nipples just barely in his hands. “Feels so good, Eddie, fuck.” You whined. “Oh! Right there! Do it just like that, please!”

Eddie repeated the action, fingers pressed in a ‘v’ over your puffed lips, exposing and revealing your throbbing clit to him, sucking the bud at a pace that had you seeing stars. You cried, hands fisting in his hair to bring him closer and closer, his nose was pressed against your mound, inhaling your scent deeply, lapping away until you gushed hard around him. His eyes fluttered up to yours, licking you through your orgasm while you bucked and writhed, his arms locked around your waist to keep you still. He loved watching you come undone for him, get you in that hazy headspace that always had you needy and clingy afterwards.

“That good?” Eddie asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he moved up.

You nodded, chest heaving slightly. “Very good.” You looked at him with glassy eyes, smiling slightly. The blush on your cheeks was enough for him to know you meant it. He was always wanting to please you, especially after you were upset with him.

He shoved his sweatpants down, kicking them off until they pooled at the end of the bed. You could feel his erection between the two of you, rutting his hips into yours, whining slightly at the friction.

“You wanna be like this? Or you wanna be on your stomach?” Eddie asked, his nose touching yours. You could feel his curls around your face, making you giggle at the tickling feeling. It made your heart swell slightly, any feels of irritation disappearing with every soft kiss of his pillowy lips on yours.

"This is fine," You sighed contently, eyes shutting when he pressed his lips to your neck. "Wanna see you." You muttered.

Eddie fucked you slow, your legs wrapped around his waist, fingers intertwined with his. He grunted lowly in your ear, reveling in the little whines and gasps you'd let sneak out sweetly, muffled into his neck.

You'd curled up beside him, he'd used his boxers to clean you up before dropping them back into the floor, your head on his chest, his hands stroking your hair softly. You could feel your eyes droop, heavy with the stress of the day. Eddie put on New Girl for you, he knew you liked to watch it when you were falling asleep.

When you awoke, the screen on the TV with the Netflix logo, asking if you were still watching. You could hear Eddie in the living room, the soft glow of the kitchen light down the hallway. You felt heavy, warm, a little disoriented with the nap. Your phone on the bedside table read eight-twenty-two.

Eddie looked up when you walked in, pausing his game and pushing the headset off his curls. "Hi, baby," He greeted with a small smile. "Did you sleep ok?"

You nodded, stretching and rubbing your eyes. You started for the closet with the washer and dryer. "I already dried them." Eddie said proudly. "I put them up too, so you can take a bath now if you want."

Your heart swelled, smiling with a soft, sleepy smile. You walked over to him, straddling his lap, still warm and soft. Eddie's hands rubbed down your back, grabbing on your hips gently. "Thank you." You whispered, pressing your lips to his sweetly.

"No problem, baby." Eddie hummed, a soft smile on his lips. "'M sorry I didn't do it earlier."

"That's alright." You muttered, sitting down in his lap. Your legs on either side of his, arms around his neck, head tucked under his chin. His hand found your back, rubbing small circles down your back, sneaking under the fabric of the shirt- his shirt.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day." Eddie pressed small kisses to your hair line.

"'S alright." You pouted, huffing slowly against his chest. "I hate prom."

Eddie laughed softly, chest vibrating with laughter. "Yeah? I wasn't a fan of it either."

You craned your neck to look up at him. "Who did you go to prom with?"

Eddie scratched his neck. "Uh, my first senior year, I went with this emo, alt chick. Her name was Haley." He grinned slightly and you frowned. "Then my last senior year, I just went with the guys. Only went for a little bit, then hit the after parties to sell." You scoffed slightly, and he smiled down at you. "What about you?"

"I went my sophomore year with this guy names Parker. He was a friend and he needed a date, so we went, talked shit the whole night it was fun. Then I went my junior year twice, because the guy I was with at the time went to a different school. Then senior year I went with the same guy but just to mine, because he had graduated." You explained.

Eddie snorted. "Seems like you loved prom if you ask me."

"Hated it. My mom made me go." You wrinkled your nose. "I looked so different too. Weird when I look back."

"Bet you were still hot." Eddie grinned. You scoffed loudly. "What? I bet you were. What's that Drake song... high school pics you were even bad then?"

You laughed, cringing slightly while you covered your blush. "Eddie, oh my god, that- you're so lame." You giggled, shaking your head.

"What? It's a good song. I thought you'd love that song." Eddie jested, poking your side sweetly. "Gotta be nice for what? That's practically written about you."

"I'm very nice." You pouted playfully, eyes narrowing at him.

He grinned. "You are." He said sweetly, pressing his lips to yours, hands cradling around your jaw. You really were.

#modern!eddie x reader #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #oneforthemunny #funsonmunson #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader

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magneto-was-fucking-right · 2 months

Text

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 6

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; semi-sexual content

Chapter Summary: In which Simon's neighbor gets drunk with his best friend and ends up, once again, on his couch.

Word Count: 3.1K

On a cold, rainy Friday night, Riley Thomas knocked on her neighbor’s door in sweatpants and a hoodie, a large pizza box from the restaurant down the street in hand. When Simon finally reached the door, the young woman slid inside quickly, sighing in relief at the comforting heat of his apartment.

“Why’d you take so long? The hallway is freezing!” She complained as a way of greeting, setting down the carton box on his table before rubbing her hands together.

“I took two minutes, you big baby.”

She rolled her eyes playfully.

“What’d you pick for tonight?” Riley asked curiously, peeking at his TV as she settled on the couch and quickly covered herself with their designated movie blanket.

“Mamma Mia.”

“Fuck off.” She stared at him in disbelief, a mocking grin slowly creeping about her cheeks. “Guilty pleasure?”

“One of many.”

She shook her head in amusement “You’re a man full of surprises, Simon.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He chuckled.

A slow, tentative friendship had begun blooming between them over the weeks, as Riley found herself in her broody neighbor's company more often than not. Simon’s icy walls had started to crumble increasingly easier at the young woman’s terrible jokes, finding comfort in her amiable invitations for a movie night, a dog walk, or something as simple as a quiet talk while each of them did their laundry in the building’s basement.

Tonight was different for Riley, as it had been Simon’s idea for them to share the evening together, excitement bubbling in her stomach at their new found companionship. She spent her work days longing for their moments together, when she would come home to find he had prepared dinner and “accidentally” made enough to share, dropping by as soon as he heard her turn the key on her door. She noticed the recurrent acts of service with a soft, yearning heart when he took out his trash and offered to take hers as well, maintaining a neutral expression and shrugging awkwardly when she beamed at him and thanked him endlessly.

A few days before, when she had invited him over for a hot cup of tea and cake, Simon had ended up washing the dishes, despite her constant protests, appearing nonchalant as he claimed he was just checking for leaks in the fickle plumbing.

Despite growing closer, the pair still maintained a set of respectful boundaries that assured their mutual trust: as Simon filled each of them a glass of wine, placing them on the coffee table along with the pizza, Riley knew she shouldn’t look as he removed his usual black facemask to eat, keeping her eyes on the screen as she made occasional remarks about the movie.

“I can’t believe you like this.” She laughed as the dramatic musical unfolded, cheesy and cheerful songs filling the dimly lit flat. “Big old broody man enjoying Abba songs in a rom com.”

“It’s entertainin’.” He grunted as he grabbed another slice of pizza, trying to ignore how close they sat to each other under the blanket, her feet up and near his muscled thigh. Simon’s phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it with his clean hand, reading the notification and stifling an affectionate smile.

He could almost feel how hard she tried not to stare, as well as ask about it, as she took another long sip of wine.

“Still interested in findin’ the pup an owner?” His deep voice made her snap her head at him on instinct, quickly looking away as she realized his face was still bare.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks heat, but Simon merely shrugged, eyes glinting as he put the mask back on. “Yes, I really can’t keep him trapped in such a small flat, let alone keep listening to Mrs. Parsons complain about the noise.”

“The old hag still botherin’ ya?”

“Every single day.” Riley sighed in defeat, running a nervous hand over her messy braid.

“My friend’s coming back from deployment in a few days. Might come visit and stay over to meet the dog, see how they get along.”

Riley felt her insides boil with something hot she tried hard to conceal. It wasn’t pleasant, and she felt ridiculous as she asked:

“Do you think she’ll be interested?” Her tone was almost casual enough that Simon didn’t pick up on her small trap. Almost.

“I think he is very interested.” He made sure to drag out the pronoun and noticed her flustered expression, even as she kept her eyes on the screen. “He’s always wanted one.”

The young woman nodded silently and hummed to the music as she took another bite of her slice.

“Why’d you take on rescues anyway?” He asked, killing the awkward silence between them.

“They were gonna be put down! I couldn’t just let them die! Can you imagine being sentenced to death just because of undesirable traits or features?”

“I can. It was called the Holocaust, love.”

“Simon!” She scoffed, smacking him on the arm.

He pretended it hurt, and she pretended he wasn’t funny.

***

Johnny MacTavish was a burly, five foot ten, crackling ball of energy that put any other force of nature to shame. With bright blue eyes, a questionable hairstyle and a barely understandable accent, the Scot appeared unaware of the existence of the very concept of shyness or social anxiety.

When Riley Thomas had opened her door on the next lazy Friday evening, in nothing but leggings and an oversized sweater, she found herself in the man’s bone crushing hug before she could even utter a simple “hello”.

“Christ…” She gasped, unable to process why, exactly, the stranger was so excited to see her, until she peeked over his shoulder and saw Simon leaning against the hallway, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes at the scene.

"There ya are lass" he cheerily put her down, and the young woman discreetly gasped for breath, laughing nervously at the unexpected display of affection. "I'm Johnny. I heard so much about ya."

"Did you?" She scowled at Simon "Unfortunately I can't say the same."

Simon's facemask covered his smirk.

"Aye, do not worry lass, I know Ghost can be an old grump"

Simon grunted in response and Riley quirked an eyebrow.

"Ghost?" She turned to Simon inquisitively, but he gave no signs of willingness to indulge her curiosity.

"Aye, it's his call sign becau-"

"Johnny" Simon warned firmly, and the Scot toned down a notch, nodding.

"Right...anyway lass, I thought we ought to invite ya to the pub with us tonight." His smile was so endearing she couldn't possibly refuse, despite looking down at her own clothes with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were coming today." She shrugged anxiously "I'd have to go get ready an-"

"That's alright! Wouldn’t want to steal yer night with him. We'll wait, won't we Simon?" He nudged the man with an elbow, his frame so much larger than Johnny's that it was almost comical.

Simon was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the outcomes of what he was getting himself into, before looking her in the eyes and nodding once in approval.

“We wait.”

And that was how two hours later, the trio had ended up bumping shoulders at a packed bar in downtown Manchester, the two men always by her side. Riley glanced over her shoulder, amused by the view: it was like walking with a very intimidating Dobermann, alongside an overly excited and friendly golden retriever. Opposites in every possible way.

Simon wore his casual black face mask and hoodie, along with denim jeans, his blonde locks handsomely swept back, the only indication he had made an effort to look better than usual, other than the smell of his expensive cologne that Riley kept discreetly trying to get whiffs of. The young woman had opted for a pair of her best jeans, the ones that didn’t yet look too washed up and hugged her curves just right, along with a warm, modest top that didn’t reveal too much cleavage, covered by a faux leather jacket.

Simon quirked an eyebrow at her gaze, silently challenging her to say something, to which she giggled, flushing slightly as his hand lightly nudged her lower back to steer her into the right direction. The three of them ended up sitting on a corner booth, after venturing to the counter to fetch their drinks: for Simon, a bourbon, for Riley, a gin, and for Johnny, a massive pint of beer that would make him carry his weight in piss in half an hour.

“I gotta say, you’re a bonnie lass.” Johnny was slurring out by the time the fifth pint was half way gone. By then, Riley was feeling tipsy from her own alcohol, her cheeks flushed as she giggled at Johnny’s predicament.

“I’m gonna pretend I understood what you just said.” She lazily twirled the straw on her third drink, playing with the ice at the bottom of the glass.

Simon rolled his eyes, the bourbon barely warming up his blood, but there was a glint of affection in his eyes as he countered “Easy, McTavish.”

“Don’t lose yer wits, Simon, just trynna’ help you remember how to treat a lass.” He leaned forward, confiding in Riley “Did ya know he hasn’t gotten laid in-”

“Sergeant.” A low growl in warning as Riley pressed him on, curiously.

“Go on! Now I wanna know!”

“No ya don’t.” She could almost swear she saw him blush under that mask.

“I can’t count the months on me fingers, I’ll tell you that.” Johnny lifted his hands playfully, and Simon glared at him, a silent threat ever present as his dark eyes squinted at him.

Riley roared with laughter, her dimples more noticeable than ever.

“Months? Those are rookie numbers. I haven’t gotten laid in four years.” She drunkenly blurted out, and Simon stiffened by her side, as Johnny choked on his drink.

“What? How’s that possible?” The Scot coughed as the young woman shrugged, amused by his reaction.

“I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people much.” She avoided his gaze shyly, downing the rest of her gin “Plus, I work a lot.”

“Ya’ two are a match made in heaven.” He pointed out, ignoring Simon’s scowl and her playful eye roll.

“Cheer up Simon Riley, yer best friend is back and ya have a lovely lady by your side.” The Scot taunted before downing the rest of his pint.

Riley Thomas halted, looking up at the broody man sitting by her side, eyes glassy and sleepy as her drunken mind tried to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Wait…Simon Riley? Your last name is Riley?” Simon sighed deeply before looking her over, grunting in agreement.

The young woman chuckled to herself, leaning her head playfully against his muscled arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s hilarious!” Simon stifled an amused smile as he pretended to dodge from her touch. “Do you realize…” She poked his chest with her pointer finger “Do you realize that if we ever got married I’d be called Riley Riley?”

“That’s exactly why.” Simon retorted, rolling his eyes for the millionth time since the beginning of the day, but he felt himself buzzing at her words, at the fact she had considered, even if just for a moment, even if just playfully…

For a moment, he found himself lost in her inebriated gaze. The droopy eyelids, the soft smile dotted by those damn dimples. The chipped tooth that always caught his attention, and the way she was leaning against his arm made something warm bubble in his stomach. She looked up at him so innocently, so curiously, that for a split second he almost forgot his best friend was right across the table.

“Get a room!” He taunted, almost breaking Simon’s usual stoic expression. “Save tha’ for later. Now we need shots!”

“You’re a sip away from death, mate. I’d call it a night.”

“But I haven’ even told her the Al Mazrah story!”

“And it’ll stay that way if ya want to live.” Simon threatened, and Riley perked up once again, eyes glimmering with humor.

“Tell me right now!”

“Imagine this, lass: scorching heat of the Middle East…”

“Soap.”

“A food poisoned Simon on a sniper recon mission, no toilets in sight-”

“I’ll smack ya so hard I’ll turn that mohawk into a fade.”

The young woman had tears rolling down her cheeks as she roared with laughter, picturing the situation so clearly she was out of breath.

“Away n’bile yer heid!” Johnny retorted at Simon’s threat.

“English, Mctavish.”

“Sorry L.T. Let me translate… “Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

***

It must have been four in the morning when Riley Thomas felt herself being carefully placed on a familiar couch, strong arms under her back and legs. She felt so dizzy she knew it would be over if she so much as lifted her head, opting to remain still as Simon’s comforting scent temporarily disappeared. She could hear him guide a stumbling, barely conscious Johnny into his bed, not trusting the intoxicated man to sleep properly on his couch.

When he finally returned, seemingly the only semi-sober one of the bunch, he once again reached down to carry her to her own flat in his arms, halting once he saw her open her sleepy eyes. Simon felt himself stiffen as she wrapped her arms around his neck clumsily, inhaling his neck deeply.

“You smell so good, Simon.” She slurred out, tone soft in his quiet, barely lit living room. He couldn’t move, unsure of how to react to the sudden affectionate touch, hands holding his weight on the couch.

“You need to sleep, love.” He muttered gently through his face mask, giving her shoulder blades a quick rub through her jacket and hoping she would free him from the awkward position.

“I’m fine.” She nuzzled further into the curve of his neck and he shivered, feeling the smell of her own perfume, mixed with alcohol and sweat.

“Riley…”

“Simon.” She let go of his neck, but forced him to sit down next to her, barely making out his face through the dim lighting and her blurred vision. “I…”

“Shhh. You’re sloshed.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“Let me get ya to your bed, yeah? Where are your keys?”

She had never heard him speak so softly, in such a caring, gentle way. Her heart was beating furiously, as deep, joyful warmth spread through her stomach when she looked at him. At his half covered face, dark eyes framed by blonde lashes that she found so endearing.

She silently moved closer, reaching over his lap and turning off the only source of light from a small table lamp. She heard him release a shuddering breath, his large hands gripping the couch for dear life. Riley placed a cautious hand on his shoulder in the dark, to guide herself into slowly straddling his muscled thighs, careful enough to sit closer to his knees, instead of his groin.

Simon Riley’s heart thudded so hard against his chest he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, his body frozen into place, nervously awaiting her next move.

Riley’s trembling hands reached up ever so slowly, fingertips trailing a curious path over his soft blonde locks, down to the crease on his forehead, the perfect arch of his eyebrows, all the way to his strong nose, where her finger locked in the black mask. Unmoving and barely visible, she was unsure of his reaction, as she slowly began pulling it down.

“Do you mind?” She whispered, so close their breaths mingled.

“Hm.” Was all he could mutter, but one of his hands gently gripped her hip, steadying her in his lap. His thumb circled the small patch of exposed skin on her waist, where the top almost met the jeans.

She continued her ministrations leisurely, giving him enough time to stop her if he wished. But he didn’t, and her finger pulled his mask all the way down to under his chin, where she felt the stubble. Riley could barely breathe, doing her best to contain her excitement as her cold fingers trailed his face in the dark.

She felt the contour of his lips, slightly chapped as her thumb parted them tentatively. The raise of a scar, that seemed to have been carved all the way to the jaw, where she rubbed slow, careful circles lovingly. She felt his trembling breath on her flushed skin, the sounds of her faux leather jacket as she moved about, the only noise in the room.

Riley placed a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling embarrassed as she felt the warmth that immediately soaked her underwear once her skin came in contact with his. The mixture of alcohol and desire in her blood seemed to burn, making her ache with longing as she kissed his nose, his forehead, and then his other cheek, until she was trailing his strong jaw, the stubble tickling her lips.

“Riley…” He muttered, their mouths so close she could almost drink in his words.

“Please.” She begged in a silent whisper, joining her forehead to his, hands cupping his face tenderly.

His other hand held an iron grip on the couch, not letting up.

“You’re drunk.” He whispered back, teetering on the edge of self-control.

“I need you.” She replied, her lips ghosting his in the dark, skin almost grazing. She began moving her hips lower towards his groin, but although Simon had held his breath at the confession, his heart hammering in his chest, he finally gripped both of her hips firmly, keeping her away from the raging boner she would have found.

“I can’t, love.” He murmured softly, hoping she would understand.

“Please Simon.” She clumsily tried to fight off his grip, eager to press her aching body to his. “I need you so bad.”

Simon bit his lip so hard he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding as he did his best to keep his fraying sanity through her tender pleas.

He knew he was done for if he felt the softness of her lips, her wet tongue and the grind of her hips against his rock-hard shaft.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

“I’m so wet.” She admitted, and he felt the crease of her frustrated frown against his own, words coated with need and shame. He sighed deeply, his bruising grip on her hips tempting him to just pull her into him. He could feel himself pulse in his briefs, so painfully hard.

“Four years is a long time.” He grunted softly.

“I know.” She practically whimpered.

“You’re very drunk, love. You can barely stand upright.”

“But-”

“Riley.” She stilled at his commanding tone. “I’m taking you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow once you’ve rested up, yeah?”

Her shoulders slouched in defeat, the rejection still stinging as she placed another kiss to his cheek before muttering:

“Okay.”

A/N: I'm back! And I managed to bring my work laptop home, which (hopefully) means quicker updates! :) Once again thank you to everyone reading and keep that feedback coming - seriously, it keeps me going. The slow burn is finally burning and the next chapters are gonna be spicy.

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

@xaestheticalien @bossva @missmae3004 @yyiikes @lillysfrogsandbogs @missmae3004 @spicyspicyliving @shuttlelauncher81 @generaldestinychild @semendreaminsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @iloveghost900

#ghost cod #ghostxreader #ghost imagine #cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #modernwarfare2 #neighbor!ghost #TGND

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