Obsessed

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.

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?"

"bloody hell," simon curses, speeding up. "better hurry up, mrs. riley."

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.

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?'

bob reynolds x reader

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!

word count: 2.6k

masterlist ⋆ taglist ⋆ ao3 ⋆ @eyelessupdates ⋆ ko-fi ♡

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.

first post how we feeling? 👀

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

“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.

“…we’re gonna be here all day, aren’t we?”

you’re both sprawled out on the living room couch, johnny on his back, and you lying stomach down on top of him with your cheek resting on his chest. your knee is hiked up a bit over his hip just enough to be comfortable. he’s holding a book up in the air with one hand.

he’s not the biggest reader, but simon recommended it, and he has trouble saying no to simon.

his other hand explores you absentmindedly. nothing inherently sexual yet. but then he feels the waistband of your thong that had ridden up the curve of your hips from the position you’re in. he calls it serendipitous.

it’s not in a place where it’s bothering you at this point, just a slight bit of pressure. he can’t help but tug the cotton up just a little bit, waiting to see if you’ll flinch.

he pretends he’s still focused on his book when really he lost his place about five minutes ago.

you shift, readjusting and cramming yourself further into johnny’s chest, if that’s even possible at this point.

you murmur a tired “stop it,” and johnny’s hand move up your back and away from your underwear. a few more minutes of johnny pretending to read pass, and you’ve reentered that floaty state between sleep and consciousness.

he feels your breathing even out, and his hand wanders back to the band of your underwear. this time he gives it a firm yank upwards.

you screech, shooting up from his chest, now straddling his hips. you can feel his cock chubbing up through his trousers and groan in disgust.

“ugh! johnny you are such a freak, you know that?” you slap his chest, and he grabs your wrists to stop your swatting before it reached his face.

then you’re storming off, yelling one last “disgusting!” his way.

Was the first thing Simon said when he met you, after you asked him if his broken arm didn't hurt or if he wanted a shoulder to cry on.

"love I told you I don't cry" Whispered Simon shakily, hugging you back tightly two years later when you hugged him after you found him mourning his lost family in a cementery.

Simon let out a choked laugh of joy, feeling the sting of tears of joy when you accepted to be his girlfriend six months later after the cementery thingy.

"Boys do cry honey, it's normal we're humans"

You said, crying of joy too.

"It's ridiculous I don't cry" was what he snapped back to Johny with fat tears the moments he saw you walk around the aisle looking as beautiful as the day he met you.

"I'm not crying you're crying" he mumbled while signing the documents of the house you two bought together, you nodded, sobbing and smiling widely "I do cry, you big softie"

You could just stay there, years later, smiling gently while Simon hugged you, crying on his shoulder after you showed him the positive pregnancy test.

"but baby you do cry!" You teased softly, exhausted and next to him, five years after getting married and buying a house seeing him cry with trembling yet secure hands while holding his newborn little boy.

And now, as he knelt down on the grass of his big house, with you reading a book on the bench and Riley the dog playing around, grey hairs now adorning his once golden locks, when he looked down at his six year old son Ethan after the little guy tried to contain his tears thanks to a rough fall, he smiled softly.

"Don't worry champ, boys do cry, and it's completely normal"

He mumbled gently, lifting up the crying little boy and holding him close to his chest while your heart melted not too far away.

You watch the people walking by while eating and drinking. Your eyes are currently glued to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. There is a woman walking with a little pomerainian on a leash.

That is why you dont notice how someone is walking at you on your sidewalk.

So now you run into what you first think is a wall. The cup in your hand Drops to the ground and drenches your shoes and the boots of the "wall" in front of you.

A confused look settels on your features when you notice that its a man you just ran into.

That man is dressed completly in black and is wearing a mask to hide the lower part of his face.

"I´m so sorry." you move a few steps back to give the man a little space.

Simon, better known as the man in front of you, doesnt even Understand what happend because the only thing he notices is that you smelled really nice.

So now he is only looking at you talk about how sorry you are before you leave because of something Simon didnt catch.