cw: cheating, bad relationship, Soap x reader, Simon Riley x reader, yearning Simon, asshole Soap.
When Johnny first started bragging about his new missus to the team, Simon didn't think much of it.
With Soap, new girls came and went. This one shouldn't have been any different. That should've been the end of it.
Simon couldn't have given less of a shit.
But this one seemed different.
____ always looked so unhappy around Johnny.
Like the first time Simon met her.
Johnny had introduced her as his girl.
Few drinks later, she gently tugged at Soap's sleeve as the music changed.
"One dance?" Johnny didn't even look at her.
"Nah. Not in the mood, doll."
Simon simply watched from the other side of the room. He wasn't the dancing type either.
Hell. He'd probably step on her feet every ten seconds.
But if dancing meant wiping that sad little look off her face…
He would've become fucking Michael Jackson.
She'd visit the base every now and then just to make sure Johnny had properly eaten.
Always carrying a bento box.
Rice. Meat. Vegetables.
Enough food to feed half the bloody task force.
Sometimes she'd bring sweets for the whole team, too.
The moment she left, Johnny popped the lid open.
"Tch. Don't like this."
Without a second thought, he shoved the whole thing across the table.
"Anyone wants it?" Simon frowned.
The fuck?!
Simon would never do that.
Never.
If she had made that lunch for him…
He would've eaten every last grain of rice.
Hell, he'd lick the damn container clean before letting somebody else touch it.
Days kept passing, and Johnny kept running his fucking mouth.
Complaining.
Rolling his eyes whenever her name came up.
Like loving her was somehow an inconvenience.
How she wanted to dance.
How she always worried if he'd eaten.
How she texted him good morning every single day.
Then came the night at the bar.
Simon hadn't meant to look. Johnny didn't care enough to hide it.
One hand around another woman's waist.
Then..
...a kiss.
What the fuck was wrong with him?!
How could anybody cheat on such a perfect bird like ____?
If she were his… He would've thanked every God willing to listen just for letting her choose him.
Still. As furious as it made him…
That wasn't what finally broke him.
It happened back at base.
Johnny started talking about his first time with the missus.
"She's always asking for kisses. Wants hugs all the bloody time." The whole room laughed. Simon looked up from the paperwork in front of him.
"And don't even get me started on sex. She keeps trying to make it all romantic while I'm just trying to stick it in—" Johnny never got to finish that sentence.
The lieutenant's fist broke his nose before anyone even realized he'd moved.
"THE FUCK, RILEY?!" Blood poured down Johnny's face while he stumbled back, holding his nose. The room fell dead silent.
"I'm taking the missus away from you."
"You what?"
"Heard me."
Without another word, he turned around and walked out of the base.
Somehow, he ended up standing outside their apartment.
He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten there.
He just knew he'd started driving.
Now he was here.
"Oh… You're Johnny's teammate, right?" She smiled politely.
"…Yeah."
"What brings you he—"
"You know he's cheating."
Her smile faded.
"You already knew. You're not stupid." She didn´t answer. Didn´t have to.
Simon clenched his jaw.
"…Take me instead." She blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
"Take me instead of that fucking asshole."
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough." She looked away.
"I'd treat you better. The way you deserve." She turned to stare at him.
"…Why?"
For the first time that night… Simon hesitated.
Then he didn´t.
"I'd never make you beg."
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.
I know I can treeat youu beetterr, than he can...!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ Please give me a Simon Riley like right now ToT
thinking about simon riley getting jealous of the things you put in your mouth...
Simon should really look away.
But he can’t. Because the way your lips close around that grenade pin, teeth gripping the metal as you jerk your head back and pull it free? Well, it has him thinking dangerous things.
He can’t tear his eyes away from you as you throw it right into the enemy’s pile of ammo and it explodes with a deafening boom. And when you turn to him, framed in fire, a triumphant smile on that pretty mouth?
He’s done for.
Back on base, it’s pure coincidence that he walks past the gym and sees you inside, giving the punching bag hell. His boots falter as you whip around, focused and mean, and strike the bag with your glove hard. The impact rattles the chain and stirs hot, wicked embers deep in his gut.
Suddenly, you turn, eyes snapping to his through the window. But Simon can’t bring himself to move. Slowly, you raise your hand and rip the velcro strap of your glove back with your teeth, pulling it tighter around your wrist.
The tension finally comes to a head late one night at the range. You’re there with your newly issued Glock, putting a few rounds through it before the op the next day when he silently chooses the lane next to yours, despite all the rest being empty.
You don’t say anything, but your eyes flick to his under his mask as you bring a bullet to your lips. You tuck the blunt end between your canines, cock the chamber back, and then proceed to drop the bullet into the gun.
Simon watches you, his gaze catching on the purse of your lips, your lashes brushing your cheeks as you grab another and place it into the slot with your mouth, the way your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip to taste the gunpowder—
Suddenly, he’s moving, shoving his way into your lane and plucking the bullet from your lips with two gloved fingers.
“Want somethin’ in your mouth so bad?” he grunts. “All you have’ta do is ask.”
“God, Ghost,” you groan, hands already fumbling with his belt. “Fucking finally—”
Line cook!Simon who's been sweet on you lately, always making sure to get your tables tickets out as fast as possible, and managing to sneak you a snack during your shifts.
He always brushes it off, shrugging about it when you ask, 'was tryin' somethin' new ou', luv, tell me f'its good, yeah?', knowing he would never let you eat anything less than delicious. Regardless, hes always eagerly watching for your approval, wanting to see that stupid smile on your face as you gush about his work.
Waitress!Reader whos saved plenty of money on meals, because even with your employee discount, appetisers and sides cost a fair bit of money when it adds up over the week. Not that it mattered anymore, Simon was always using his cooks discount to get you main meals, 'no' gonna le' 'is luvie, go hungry, will 'e?'
Head chef!Price who cocks a brow every time SImon does it, but never pries. Game is game, after all.
Simon who always makes sure to give you a lift home, even when you finish earlier than him, using his break to do so. He also manages to learn that your crappy studio flat is in the bad part of town...
Line cook!Simon who is quick to suggest you moving in with him. He lives close to your uni, you'd save money on rent, and be able to travel to work together most days.
You're quick to agree, it sounding like a dream to not worry about rent or transport and to live with your friend who's been so sweet to you!
Now he just has to figure out how to ask you out and address your lack of self preservation, because really luv, youd only known him a few months...
A/n: wait guys I might lowkey be onto something, let me cook up my idea 🫰
ALSO, if there are any specific posts of mine that you want a part 2 for, let me know cause im struggling to decide ("-ࡇ-)
18+ MDNI i'm ovulating! :: simon riley x fem!reader
ever since you and your husband, simon, decided to have children, you've been on each other nonstop, fucking on every surface in the house and knocking over several expensive items while lost in the heat of the moment. doesn't matter. he'll replace them with the ungodly amount of money he has in his account.
he'd bend you over the counter every time he finds you in the kitchen cooking, a thin sundress hugging all your delicious curves just right, images of your swollen belly flooding his mind, full and round with his seed. the food is forgotten every single time. only you and putting a baby in you on his mind.
he'd fold you in half when you're in bed reading, wearing only a tank top that gives him easy access to your tits and leaves your belly exposed and a pair of shorts that accentuates your perky ass. he'd tear them off you and put your legs over his shoulders as he splits you wide open for him.
he finds you absolutely irresistible in every state. you know it as a fact. it bleeds over in his every word and action. yet it doesn't make your worries go away. still, your mind wanders. would he ever get tired?
you push the thoughts away. a feral need bubbling inside you as you think about your husband, his scarred lips on your hot skin, bulky weight pressing you into the mattress as his burly arms cage your body beneath him, broad shoulders holding your legs beside your ears, a large rough hand wrapped around your throat while he's buried to the hilt inside you.
you're ovulating. and you need him right now. so you call him. "si, i need you." and he's on his way. doesn't matter that he's on base in an important meeting. he's leaving right away, ignoring price's shouts of protest. he'll understand when simon tells him later. his wife needs him. and there's nothing more important than that.
you're pouncing on him as soon as he walks through the door. he catches you with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him with an untamed desperation.
"sorry, si. i know it was important—"
"doesn't matter, love."
"by the way, i'm ovulating."
"bloody hell, woman. lead with that next time."
immediately, your mouths are on each other, lips and tongues latching onto one another, kissing, nipping, biting every part of skin you can find, covering in saliva and marking each other, hot and heavy, your hands moving desperately across the other's body to grab every piece of flesh.
you're discarding each other's clothes when you mention it. breathing shakily as your movements subside, looking away from his intense eyes, you finally tell him.
"si, i'm worried that it becomes a chore."
he stops.
looking you over, an expression of utter disbelief takes over his face.
"a chore?" he finally speaks, voice laced with subtle mockery.
you look into his eyes for a moment, only to shy away again and look down.
he guides you to lay back on the bed as he hovers above you.
leaning in, dangerously close, his lips graze yours. he grabs your jaw to make you look at him, eyes darkened as he speaks in a deep voice.
"you think fuckin my wife is a chore for me?"
you don't dare to respond.
his lips capture yours briefly, only to slide down to your jaw, then your neck, coating your skin in a string of saliva as he glides down to your collarbone, tracing its line with his lips as his hands find your breasts, squeezing as if it's a warning to your previous words, his calloused skin a delicious contrast on your silky smooth one that makes you go wild. his lips wrap around your hard nipples, sucking and licking as you moan softly for him. he chuckles at your reaction, causing heat to spread across your cheeks.
he grabs your hips, kissing your exposed belly and covering the expanse of it with his hand, gently touching as he thinks about filling you up, all soft and swollen with his seed growing inside you. his hard cock throbs at the mere thought of it, dripping precum onto the sheets as his hips jerk forward involuntarily and he humps the mattress.
his lips reach your mound and he stops just above your slit, lifting himself up on his hands. his adoring eyes marvel at your beauty, drinking in the literal work of art splayed out before him. his pupils are blown out, eyes completely black as he looks at you and leans in, rough fingertips sliding up and down your wet slit, spreading your arousal along your folds.
"you think i'd ever get tired of this pussy?"
you gulp audibly. his hot breath fanning against your lips, he cups your pussy with one large hand, his middle finger sliding through your folds and teasing your entrance.
you gasp. "please, si..."
you grasp his shoulders in a desperate hold as he goes on teasing you.
"please what, darling?"
a sly smirk spreads across his face, only adding to your frustration.
"please. i need you inside me, si." you beg, "please, si. need your cock so bad."
in that moment, he thinks you're the most beautiful you've ever been, pleading so sweetly for him, sprawled out beneath him like an offering, all for him to take.
his lips are on yours in an instant, spreading your legs further apart and pushing your knees to your chest before propping them over his shoulders.
he slides into you so easily, your soaking wet pussy ready to take him in, thick throbbing cock splitting your needy cunt open. his lips never leave yours as he lets out a groan into your mouth, mixing with your whiny moans as you're all stretched out by his fat cock.
"fuck! look at this greedy pussy," he breathes in between kisses, bottoming out inside you, "so fuckin wet and desperate for me."
giving you no time to adjust, he starts thrusting in and out ferociously, yet with the meticulous precision of a man on a mission.
"fuckin swallowing me whole, baby." he grunts, "like you were made for me."
his relentless assault on your needy cunt leaves no room for you to breathe, only choked out moans slipping through your lips.
"fuuuck, siiii.... ahhh—"
"fuckin pussy was made for me." he groans in your ear, "made for me to fuck. all mine. forever."
his strong hips slam into you, heavy balls slapping your ass repeatedly as your wet pussy squelches to accommodate his hefty size. the obscene sound echoing through the room.
"gonna breed this pretty pussy, love." he hisses, "so fuckin tight f’me. so, so lovely. "
your hands run across his muscular back and biceps, nails raking over his skin as you lose your mind entirely in an overwhelming state of bliss.
you're a fucked out mess, your hair splayed all over the pillows, skin dampened with beads of sweat, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and mouth falling agape with broken moans as your husband ruins you.
"fuckin look at you, love." he says, " you're so fuckin beautiful."
"siii, please— ahh..."
"i know, baby. i know. let it out. let me hear you."
of course you obey, letting him hear your desperate moans as you beg him to fill you up.
"you think i'd ever get tired of this?" he says, delivering a particularly sharp thrust that knocks the air out of your lungs, "think again, sweetheart."
he reaches over, large hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding in a secure grip. his eyes are fixated on yours, darkened with lust, yet filled with an unspoken sincerity.
"tell me what you want, love. want me to breed you? huh?"
"yes— yesss plsss sii ahh— fill me up... breed me"
a familiar sensation starts approaching, a tightness coiling inside your belly, your moans and whimpers turning higher, walls growing tighter around him, signaling him that you're close.
"let go for me, baby. cum on my cock."
he's fucking you so vigorously your head spins wildly, fat tip reaching far deep inside you and slapping against your spongy cervix over and over again.
in less than a moment, you're flooded with an all-consuming sense of pure ecstasy, screaming his name as your muscles convulse and shake beneath him, your soaked cunt clamping down on him and creaming around his shaft.
"that's it, love. give it to me. good girl." he groans, "so fuckin tight, baby... ahh— gonna milk me dry."
his thrusts turn faster and shallow as he reaches his peak. he holds your trembling body tighter and fucks you through your high as his own orgasm approaches. a deep growl escapes his throat as he empties his balls inside you. it's filthy how much he cums. loads and loads of thick white cum painting your womb, his seed filling you up to the brim, plugged up by his cock still seated inside you. and he hopes that it will finally take this time.
for the anon that wants to know how the 141 eat pussy. mdni.
Gaz enjoys a slow, intimate 69 laying sideways. He can watch you suck his dick, touch more of you, finger as he licks.
Ghost likes it on his knees with your legs over his shoulders, arms supporting your ass and bracing you against the wall. He loves that you can’t wiggle away.
Soap is a face sitter. He wants you to crush him, to squeeze his head between your thighs. The man wants to die eating pussy.
Price is as traditional as they come. He’ll grab your ankle and yank you to the edge of the bed, go down on his knees, and have himself a feast.
CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist // main masterlist
﹙ ¹⁸⁺ ﹚ ₊ ❜୧ A QUICKIE WITH YOUR HUSBAND SIMON.
you're sorting through what feels like the millionth tiny sock when simon comes up behind you, large hands settling on your hips. "kids are occupied," he murmurs against your neck, and you can hear the suggestion in his voice.
"si, i have to get this done," you protest weakly, but you're already leaning back into him. wash day waits for no one with three kids, and you're drowning in tiny clothes. "and they won't stay distracted for long."
"exactly why we should be quick about it." his hands slide around to your stomach, pulling you flush against him. you can feel he's already hard, and your resolve wavers. "been thinking about you all morning, luv. watching you bend over sortin’ laundry..."
"you're terrible," you breathe, but you're already turning in his arms. seven years of marriage and three kids later, and he still looks at you like he wants to devour you. "we have maybe ten minutes before someone needs something."
"can work with that." he's already lifting you onto the washing machine, hands pushing up his sweatshirt that you wore around the house. "fuck, no panties? you trying t’kill me?"
"it's wash day, baby," you remind him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "everything's in the dirty hamper." but your explanation dissolves into a moan as his fingers find you already wet.
"fuckin' convenient," he growls, working you open with practiced efficiency. there's no time for slow and sweet; not with three kids in the house. "always ready for me, aren't you, swee'eart?"
you bite your lip to keep quiet as he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing in with one smooth thrust. "simon," you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. "fuck—w-we have to be quiet."
"then you'd better keep that pretty mouth o’yours shut," he says, setting a punishing pace immediately. the washing machine rocks with the force of it, and you have to brace yourself against the wall. "can't have the little ones hearing what daddy does to mummy."
the filthy words in his rough accent make you clench around him. he notices, of course he does, and smirks against your neck. "like that, do you? knowing i'm fuckin’ you while our babies play down the hall?"
before you can respond, there's a loud bang on the door. "mommy! mommy, open!" your five-year-old's voice cuts through your haze of pleasure. "need you!"
simon doesn't stop, if anything going harder. "mummy's busy, swee'eart," he calls out, voice impressively steady for someone currently railing you against major appliances. "go play with yer sister."
"but mommy!" another bang. "daisy took my doll!"
you try to answer but simon chooses that moment to hit that perfect spongy spot inside you, and all that comes out is a strangled sound. he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes dark with amusement and lust.
"mummy's folding clothes," he lies smoothly. "she'll be out in a minute, go tell daisy t'share."
"don't want to!" your daughter whines, and you can hear her stomping her little feet. "want mommy now!"
"ella." simon's voice drops into what you call his lieutenant voice — gentle but brooking no argument. "go play. we'll be out soon."
there's a moment of silence, then you hear her stomp away muttering about simon being unfair. the second she's gone, simon removes his hand from your mouth.
"such a good girl," he praises, but you're not sure if he means you or ella. "keeping quiet while i fuck you senseless. though i bet y’wanted to scream, didn't you?"
"simon, fuck, please," you gasp, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly fast. the combination of his cock and the thrill of almost getting caught has you on edge. "i'm gonna-"
"i know, luv. she's fuckin’ squeezin’ me." his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. "c'mon then. cum all over my cock before another one starts bangin’ on the door."
as if on cue, you hear your two-year-old calling from somewhere in the house. "mama?"
the use of your married name plus the perfect pressure on your clit sends you over. you bite his shoulder to muffle your cry as you cum all over his cock, whole body shaking with the force of it. he follows right after, groaning low in your ear as he fills you.
"mama!" your toddler's voice is getting closer.
"shit," simon pants, pulling out and quickly fixing his clothes. he helps you down, steadying you when your legs wobble. "y’good?"
"just peachy," you breathe, smoothing down his sweatshirt. you can feel his cum starting to leak and clench your thighs together.
"though i'm going to need to shower before i finish this laundry."
Your Lieutenant who routinely disappears every night on base. It's not completely weird or anything, the man did have a strict regimen, but really? Every night? A bit over-kill no? Maybe he always got an early night, which you could respect
Your Lieutenant who also refused to eat anything in the mess, or touch his mre's whilst on ops. Maybe he wasn't a fan of lifting his mask and eating in front of others? Regardless, you didnt press, all it meant was more apple crumble for you
Your Lieutenant who is always covered up on every single op, even on base, even during a heatwave! You understood not wanting to show skin but wasn't this too much? You were worried about him overheating, but he seemed fine.
Your Lieutenant who seems to be up all hours of the night, always in his office, always available for a debrief or a meeting, and never tired after an op, and seemed like he had endless stamina to train.
You, who finds him to be admirable, so dedicated to the cause and motivated all the time.
One night, you decided to head to his office to ask him to give you tips! Hes your Lieutenant afterall.
You, who walks in on Ghost, in his office, stripped down to briefs, on the floor, mask off, fangs out as he bit into and sucked on a pre prepared blood bag, panting and heaving as he made a mess.
"S-sergeant-" Ghost growled out, his eyes glowing a faint shade of red as he spotted you. God, you looked delicious...
Blunt!Simon, who has never once been good at keeping his mouth shut. He says this exactly as he sees them. Simon, who has the exact same mindset when he sees you enter the bases gym, clad in leggings and a standard issue sports bra.
'Can see yer nipples cuttin' through yer top, luv' he said gruffly, when you came over to say hi. You stopped dead in your tracks, blood rushing to your face, who even says that?!
You knew about his lack of filter, and youd always had a slight crush on him... but even then, you could feel your cheeks heating up
You try your best to get on with your workout, opting to do some cardio to warm up...
After a few hours, you head over to the water fountain to hydrate, where Simon had been standing, filling up his bottle. 'Been enjoyin' the outline 'f yer cunt, luvie' he says, looking down at you as you cough on your water in shock.
He bends down to get close to you 'dyin' for a taste... give yer LT a han', aye?'
Blunt!Simon who has you throbbing with his crude words.
summary: bob can never pretend to be patient when he's in bed with you, so you try to teach him to be.
cw: smut, edging, handjob, sensitive desperate bob lets go, whiny bob lets go, sub!bob, light bondage, praise, bob's power making him break stuff when he comes yayy, fluff, aftercare, like one single mention of drugs
a/n: well...... yeah. I need to make this man whimper I'm sorry. I'm not so used to writing smut I hope it's not so bad pls be indulgent!
Bob can be patient if he really has to. Sitting for dozens of minutes in the waiting room of his psychiatrist when all the previous appointments have progressively gotten delayed, meaning his own is no exception. Waiting for John to put his ego aside and finally call it quits with the punching bag so he can get his turn. Watching Yelena hesitate on which movie to pick from her watching list when really, she could pick any since she plans on watching them all anyway.
One thing he has never gotten acquainted with is being patient whenever he’s in bed with you.
Not when you’re slowly kissing down his neck and no matter how good it might feel to take the time, his pants feel like they’re about to burst from how long he has been hard. He can’t pretend to be patient either when he has you under him on the couch of the Watchtower when no one else is home, lips swollen from kissing, your chest heaving in ragged breaths and your hands buried in his hair, lightly tugging to pull him back to you and kiss him again when if he doesn’t have you touching him elsewhere he’s pretty sure he’s going to cream his pants in the minute.
And he certainly cannot be patient when, just as you are now, you’re straddling his thighs, the palm of your hand gliding along his throbbing cock, slow and languid, your teeth biting a mischievous smile into your bottom lip as you watch every reaction of his.
Your eyes wander over his figure, insistent and lustful as you admire the way his hand digs and paws at the fuzzy pillow over your bed, limbs reacting the only pathetic way they can when he knows he’s close to coming, the muscles of his lower stomach tensing with the intensity of it, hips rolling into your touch, just enough so he doesn’t look so desperate yet.
It’s all so cruel when he very well knows you will stop stroking him before he tips over the edge, letting it all fade away, but some part of him hopes he will get to come before you pull your hand away, even if he will feel guilty that he did and he knows he doesn’t really deserve to.
Because some part of him thinks he deserves to feel the frustration of not being given what he wants, for all the shameful things he’s done, and in some way, he shouldn’t even deserve to come – if he really had to get what he deserved then you shouldn’t even let him, you should just leave him hard and aching.
But the thing with you is you’re too good to him, and he doesn’t even deserve to have you making him feel that good when all he’s ever done in his life has been trying to be just as good and ending up making things worse, for everyone around him, for himself.
So he will have to be patient.
His lower stomach burns as he feels it building, can only hope that this time will be the one you will let him come – he hopes each time, so desperate and lightheaded that his guilt can’t even reach him anymore. Your hand glides maddeningly tender along the length of his leaking cock, and even though his bottom lip almost dents with the way he bites back his sounds, the lightbulb of the dim light over your nightstand starts to flicker betrayingly – just as he’s about to come and maybe break something, you remove your hand, once again. “You’re gonna short circuit something” you say, denying him his orgasm once more tonight. The whimper that leaves his swollen lips as you pull away is almost endearing, his eyebrows pulling in a desperate expression.
“You’re short circuiting me,” Bob whines, voice small but rough, head dropping forward all at once like the strings of a puppet brutally cut, hair draping over his face and hiding the flush over his cheeks.
You fake pout, running a hand through the brown waves of his hair, brushing them back from his face, admiring the visible warmth over it. “I know, but it’ll feel even better once I finally let you come” you say, voice soft with enjoyable pity. Your hand leaves his hair to caress his thigh where you’re straddling his legs, fingers brushing beside where his cock twitches desperately, just inches away. His chest heaves in frustration, fingers clawing helplessly at the soft sheets of your bed like he’s trying to hold onto something other than you or he will burst.
“The…” he vaguely gestures to his side, glancing there for nothing more than half a second, a helpless exhale leaving him. “The lamp is telling you”
You look at the lamp over your bedside table, the light stabilized now. “I could tell even without the flickering” you declare, a chuckle escaping your lips. Even without the lamp, there is no mistaking the way he thrusts into your hand when he gets closer, desperate for more friction. You adjust your position over his lap, hand caressing over his bare thigh. “You’re doing so good for me Bob,” the already satisfied smile over your face grows with the way his dick twitches at your praise, and the ache between your legs strengthens too, painful and obvious, but that's a matter for later. “Just a few more and I’ll let you come, okay? Gonna make you feel so good baby.”
He nods eagerly, brows still knitted in a pitiful expression.
There’s a desperate humming vibrating into your mouth when you kiss him, tongue brushing against his as his chest heaves with a moan when your hand runs along the hard plane of his abs, fingers tracing down his happy trail to eventually close around his cock again. Your hand isn’t even moving, and he’s already almost just as close as he was when you stopped, quiet whimpers hummed into your mouth that turn into full moans when you let your thumb focus and rub on his sensitive tip. You've been at it for so long and he has never stopped leaking, probably a curious side effect of the serum. Maybe the fact that he’s so easily worked up and sensitive is part of it too.
“Do you remember,” you start, lips still so close to his, thumb teasing around the sensitive tip of his dick and spreading the bead of precum leaking from it. A shuddering halt escapes his mouth and he looks down to where your hand is working, his breathing starting to get thicker again. “That time you came so hard you couldn’t stop laughing?”
His chest lifts with a laugh, and you feel the breath he huffs out. “Yes”, he says, ears turning red at the memory, still vividly remembering the weird mixed feeling of ecstasy and disbelief.
“I’ve been meaning to make you do that again” you declare, teeth sinking into your lower lip with a smile.
A whispered curse slips from his lips as he bucks into your hand, his laughter immediately dying down as the focused frown takes place over his face again, trying not to come right then and there. “Shit, okay” his eyes squeeze shut, head sinking back into the pillows of your bed, a loud sigh leaving his chest. “I’m gonna come if you keep it up and tell me stuff like this” he warns, eyes half lidded from the weight of all the sensations he’s bearing.
“Oh, okay.” your mouth twists in a grimace. “But that’s kinda the plan, you know. Eventually”
He hums a low sound and his eyes open to the ceiling, a low whine coming from his chest when he adjusts his position, shifting your weight over him, and uses it as an excuse to thrust his dick into the palm of your hand. His hands rest at your hips, broad and warm, his sense of discipline off as his thumbs ever so lightly slip into the hem of your underwear, and you let him for a second, until you remove your hand from his dick and his chest caves with another pitiful sound. “Bob, do I have to tie you up?”
He knows better than to speak. Or even think about it. He knows he’s fucked if he allows himself to imagine being bound and at your mercy for more than a second.
“You’re lucky I even let you thrust into my hand”
“Sorry” he mutters, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, a sigh leaving his chest. “I’m really trying to focus, but–”
“I bet you are” you cut him off, climbing off his lap to get off the bed. His throat tightens with confusion when he thinks you are leaving him here like this, and he props himself up on his elbows, watching as you rummage through a drawer of the dresser, his breathing still short. “I’m still tying you up”
When you walk back to the bed it’s with a belt in hand, and Bob swears he could come right then and there. You’re really doing it. “Oh–” he lies back on the bed when you straddle his lap again, purposefully grinding against his dick when you grab his wrists. His eyes carefully follow each of your movements, an obvious awe over his face, and he lets you handle him with ease, completely pliant under you when you wrap the belt around his wrists, gently tightening the loop. “I’m sorry” he murmurs as he watches you above him.
“That’s alright,” you declare as you let his arms rest above his head once you’re done binding him. “I’m doing this because I knew you’d like being tied up but would be too afraid to ask for it” you grin, giving his thigh a gentle pat. His face scrunches into a grimace of awkward agreement, and his dick twitches with need like a poor thing denied attention. “Look at you, Bob. You’re a mess” you grin before you lean to kiss his cheek.
He could break his bounds easily if he wanted to, could get this over with quickly. He’s never really had to wait before, the drugs wouldn’t really allow him to – but he wants to, wants to be good for you, needs to ignore the pressure in his loins as your mouth trails from his jawline to his neck in soft kisses. It’s evil that this is the thing that almost undoes him – he would hate to end up having a ruined orgasm after all of this.
“You’re gonna be good for me now?” you ask, talking between kisses against the slope of his throat. He nods, eyes shut tight and assured, and you sense his throat tightening where your mouth feels it, can feel it budge with anticipation when your fingers trail down his defined abs to meet the core of his need again. Your face is still tucked in his neck where you can directly feel the vibration of his whimpers of relief – or oppositely, of frustration because he’s still trying to hold on – when your fingers wrap around his throbbing, aching cock again. “I’ll let you thrust.”
His head digs further back into his pillow, eyelids fluttering back and forth as your hand starts to work on his sensitive cock. He won’t get sheepish on the one thing he’s allowed – he bucks into your fist, fucking your hand further than you do it, chasing the pleasure you're giving him. The feeling of your soft palm gliding over his aching cock gets much more maddening now that he controls the pace, and he knows he can and will probably sabotage himself with it, but he can’t help it, he’s far too deep into it now, he’d rather suffer the consequences later than have you deny him his orgasm once again.
“Please,” he brokenly pleads when the light flickers again, when what’s resting over your bedside table starts to tremble with the way he bucks into the palm of your hand with erratic, desperate thrusts. His wrists strain against his bounds, the muscles of his stomach tensing, sweat beading at his temples when he tries to hold it, still guiltily moving against your touch. “I can’t–”
“It’s okay, Bob” you murmur. “Let go”
His face contorts with a whimper of relief, and his frown of focus turns into one of determination when you finally let him loose; he bucks wildly, fucking your hand with short, sharp thrusts until the pleasure is too intense, too much to bear.
He’s been there before tonight, only this time, he doesn’t have to hold it, and white flashes before his eyes when with a guttural cry, he hilts inside your fist, his cock pulsing and jerking as he starts to come – the lightbulb explodes with the force of it in a sharp sound.
He’s too far gone to notice, and you can’t let the sudden fright of it stop you guiding him, so you keep helping him through it, maintaining his pace when his body gives up on the effort and only sinks into the mattress when he can’t give any more.
He’s wrung dry, dizzy with the intensity of it, soul up to the ceiling or even well up above at this point, but completely out of his body, he’s sure. He only feels the ghost of your touch over his cheek, just feels the warmth of your mouth after it has left it, barely hears it when you praise him and help him down the slope of it all. His eyes fall shut, chest heaving heavily as he catches his breath, blood pumping and limbs light when you free his wrists and guide his arms down.
He nods when you make sure he’s okay, body doing it on his own, eventually smiling when he finally regains sentience. His hands cover his face, and while he knows he’s safe with you, he starts giggling – either in embarrassment or relief, he has no idea, but he can’t help it, and it lasts a good while but eventually helps him fully come back to his senses.
His eyelids prickle with the weight of everything that has come crashing down, a beaming smile over his face as he looks over at you when you lie down next to him. He's never felt so lighter before, has never felt like an empty shell in the good sense of it.
“You broke the lightbulb” you murmur, pushing back the strands of damp hair sticking to his face. He usually easily gets sweaty, but it has never been that bad before.
He grimaces guiltily, watching to the side, seeing the chunks of glass scattered over the bedside table. “Sorry… Did you– did you get hurt?”
“No” you shake your head reassuringly, watching the worry fade from his face. “But we’re gonna have to invest in candles” you tease. “Unless you turn them into flamethrowers”
He huffs out a laugh, face beaming in guilty amusement. “I’ll try not to”
He blinks, slow and heavy as his hand holds yours over his chest rubbing back and forth, and it’s obvious he’s exhausted and probably won’t hold on too long before he gives up on remaining awake and sleeps like a log. “Don’t fight it,” you smile softly. “I’ll clean you up”
“Thank you” he murmurs, chest heavy with what remains of it all. “You were right. It was great”
“You were great” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “You weren’t that bad on the patience matter.”
He smiles, somewhat proud of himself for it.
At least, he will know he has it in him the next time Valentina ambushes him into an excruciatingly long mission meeting.
—
every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated♡
boxer!𝑦uji, who has permanent calluses across his knuckles and apologizes every time he wants to hold your hand. "Sorry—they're kinda rough."
boxer!𝑦uji, who looks for you first after every fight, whether he won or lost.
boxer!𝑦uji, who also lights up the second he spots you in the crowd.
boxer!𝑦uji, who constantly aches after practice causing him to instinctively crawls into your arms, mumbling about nothing.
boxer!𝑦uji, who texts you before every match:
"Going in. Wish me luck baby! 🙏❤️"
boxer!𝑦uji, who's not embarrassed to kiss you in front of the cameras, especially after a major win. Even deepening the kiss, you could feel him smiling against your lips.
boxer!𝑦uji, who always smells faintly of athletic tape, laundry detergent, and mint gum.
boxer!𝑦uji, who happily gives you is medals to wear after every win.
boxer!𝑦uji, who pulls you into the tightest hugs after winning, careful trying not to get blood or sweat on you, but also unable to let go for like a full minute.
boxer!𝑦uji, who falls asleep immediately with his head tucked between your neck because post-fight exhaustion hits him like a truck.
boxer!𝑦uji, who gets super clingy on rest days because he’s not used to not training, so he ends up just following you around the house like:
“What’re you doing now?”
“Can I come too?”
boxer!𝑦uji, who gets quiet after bad matches and won’t talk much until you sit next to him and he slowly leans into you, seeking comfort.
boxer!𝑦uji, who is incredibly gentle with you despite how violent his sport looks from the outside.
ᥫ᭡- sukuna witnesses you stretching one time and can’t get enough
it’s your routine that you’ve been doing far before you and sukuna got together, you stretch. it’s the late afternoon, an hour before sukuna gets home from work, the sunset spilles through the ajar window, painting your stretching form and highlighting your natural beauty.
Your favourite song echoes throughout yours and sukunas welcoming home, as you ease your self into a lunge. A groan escapes your mouth, while the built up tension in your muscles leave your body, from the hectic day you had at work .
You value this hour you have alone since your able to connect with your self and let your mind have a rest. Although, you do adore sukuna and he’s the love of your life he has no idea what you get up to in this hour .
You know theirs no need to lie, but you feel like a child again, being able to keep secrets just between you and your self.
He has asked before, what you have been doing, but a white lie never hurt anybody. You would just say simply watching a movie.
While you’re in your head performing the splits, you don’t manage to hear the front door open and sukuna come home.
as soon as sukuna enters, he finds it ominous that your favourite song is playing, curiosity instantly hits him.
He always wandered what you did in your free time without his claustrophobic presence.
sukunas makes sure to not make a racket while making it to the living room.
When he sees you doing the splits, looking calm as ever, he’s amazed all the years you’ve been together sukuna has never seen you do this.
A smirk grows on his face, he watches you for a few moments until you notice him.
when you do notice his daunting figure behind you, watching your every movement, you jump out your skin.
you look at the clock that sits perfectly centred on the wall "you are home early kuna"
he chuckles at you, resulting in you to pout as you slowly get out of the splits.
although you're shocked your body feels much better.
'' no wander I can bend you in any direction in bed " you choke on your own spit at sukuna.
''well now you know what I do in this hour'' you don't get any comment back
after that afternoon, you haven't had that hour alone again all because of sukuna
just as you're about to stretch he marches through the door early. miraculously his job lets him go early now.
due to sukuna you have been introduced into a new stretching technique and sukuna is the main object.
you stretch your leg onto his shoulder and he thoroughly enjoys it.
you're doing the stretch currently, and sukuna can't help but admire your body's flexibility, he's obsessed with It.
I really like this one. I have so many fics that I want to write it’s just laziness as the moment
helping toji work out always gets a little distracting. . .
“c’mon, you gotta count, doll.”
toji’s lying flat on the floor, hands behind his head as he starts another set of crunches. you’re sitting comfortably on his hips to keep him in place, but you’re clearly not taking your job very seriously.
every time he sits up, instead of calling out the next number, you lean in and give him a quick kiss.
“that was… um…” you mumble, tapping your chin like you’re actually thinking. “three? no… wait— four?”
he comes up again— another kiss.
“you forgot already?” he says, clicking his tongue after.
“…maybe.”
another crunch. another kiss.
he smirks, finally catching on.
“you’re not even trying to help me work out here.”
“i am!”
“nice try.” he raises a brow. “you’ve had me on the same rep for two minutes.”
you try your hardest to look innocent, but the smile on your face gives you away.
“i just keep losing count..”
“mhm.”
he comes up again, stopping just inches from your face before you can steal another kiss.
“if you want a kiss,” he says, that smug grin spreading further across his face, “you just ask, hm?”
“but this is more fun..” you pout.
he sighs, but one hand settles on your waist.
“fine.”
this time, he leans in first, stealing a kiss before dropping back down.
“…now count for real.”
“one..” you start counting again.
he sits up again— you kiss him.
“…one,” you repeat.
toji just looks at you for a second before letting out a laugh.
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