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kechiwrites · 6 months

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gentle touch

könig x massage therapist!reader kinktober countdown day 5 (body worship)

synopsis: oh, the military boys were your favourite.

wc: 2.8k

cw: massage therapist reader doing bad medical-ish practice, body worship, light sub!konig, mentions of edging, hand jobs, a little oral as a treat, biting, konig being petnamed as he should (honey), size kink, hints at touch starvation, groping, begging, uncut konig, afab!reader, no gendered pronouns or language.

author's note: i know his dick hex code and it's glorious. mdni.

He’s your last appointment of the day. And what a fucking day it had been, ten hours that should’ve been eight, cinnamon scented candles instead of eucalyptus, a rushed lunch because a client had shown up early, not taking “I’m on break” for an answer.

You knock on the faux bamboo door, waiting for your appointment to allow you entry. When he does, so quietly you almost miss it, you open the door, only for your eyes to land on a broad, strong back, still wrapped in a dark grey long sleeve. He turns slightly, just enough for you to see the thin stubble on his chin, cheek and jaw.

"Hello! I didn't catch you undressing did I?" This time he turns all the way around and you are sure your swallow is audible. Hell, you hope it's audible, you want this dude to know just how impressed you are with what you're seeing.

"No." He shakes his head, rubbing his aquiline nose against the inside of his wrist. It must’ve been broken once before, if the uneven bump on his bridge is anything to go by. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You eat up the motion, eyes tracking every twitch or movement of his massive arms.

“Oh…" you're ogling him. You need to stop ogling him. "I actually need you to strip down.” The words burn on your tongue. You must say that a thousand times a work week, but this time, when you say it to him, it sounds…dirty. Like a shitty porn set up. Makes your clean white polo feel vacuum sealed to your skin. He takes a step towards you and you shudder a breath, tensing until you realize he’s getting closer to the lockers to your left.

He’s huge, you think, and when he still doesn’t look up at you, content to let the strands of dark brown hair, nearly black hair, hang in his face, you figure he’s shy too.

Cute.

“And you can use the towel to maintain modesty, Mr. König.” You get the inflection of his name wrong, you know because you’d googled it prior, held your phone to your ear in the staff washroom and listened to a soft spoken German man lilt it to you. There’s a hard ‘g’ on the end where it shouldn’t be, and you apologize, trying again to master it. “König.”

“Right.” He murmurs, “Just around my waist, yes?”

Or it could go on the floor and I could rub my clit on your abs.

“Yes, sir. Around your waist.”

You exit the room, closing it softly behind you. You figure you’ll use the few minutes you have to get a bottle of water, or a sedative. Something strong enough to bring you back down to your customary professional detachment.

When you return, he’s where you expect him to be. Face down on his stomach, his head in the cushioned hole. “S-sorry.” He speaks, voice muffled by his position. The apology comes immediately upon the sound of the door closing and you worry his large frame has cracked the massage table or something. You peer around him, looking for any chunks of polished wood or loose screws.

When you don’t find anything you realize he’s apologizing for his scars, the pit marks of bullets dug out in haste and healed with spite, lacerations haphazardly stitched, then redone a second time with the careful, practiced hands of a doctor in no rush.

“Oh, please don’t be. We get military boys all the time. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” You murmur, and it’s a lie of course. Not that you’ve seen scars, of course, you’ve seen some really storied skin in your time here, being near a base and all. No, it was the man who was an oddity. Mandy at the front desk told you that he’d had to duck through the front door.

His skin is also ultra pale in a way military men usually aren't. Near transparent, the sprawling blue lines of his veins thread underneath his skin, and you can see yourself getting distracted tracing some of the pathways with your fingers.

He hums, and you hope you’ve put him at ease a little bit. You haven’t even touched him yet and the tension in his back is glaring. Anxious people tended to hold a lot of stress, anxious soldiers? You’re just glad he’d booked a two hour instead of the customary hour and twenty.

The oil is cold straight from the bottle and you warm it between your palms before you make contact. He’s warm to the touch, bridging on hot, and he flinches when your hands meet his skin. “Was that too cold?” He groans, but doesn’t affirm or deny it, so you figure it must just be the contact. Slowly, you begin with his calves, tending to and pushing on knotted muscle and tense areas, working out kink after kink, soothing his compounded aches. The oil smoothes down his leg hair and you must be going insane because even that is hot to you. His thighs are even worse, strong and muscled and dimpled in the sweetest places. He shivers when your palms glide over his inner thighs, and he clenches them together when your fingers brush the hem of the towel shielding his ass from your greedy view. As quickly as it happens, he relaxes, murmuring another apology. You hum your own response, and push your thumb into an adorable cluster of moles you see just under the towel.

By the time you get to his lower back, König is almost purring, his gentle breathing often interrupted by drawn out, guttural moans. Whines and whimpers that make your blood hot. He’s holding the worst of his tension there, and you have to lean almost all your body weight into the motions of the massage. His hips jerk up and then down just as sharply when you crest your palm over her shoulder blades, and you don’t imagine the keening noise he makes as he grips the massage table. You’re used to military clients being a lot more stoic but it seems Mr. König is most assuredly not the sort. You reach his neck, framing his throat with your palms and using your thumbs to rub firm circles into his nape. His breath hitches and you find yourself cooing. “Breathe for me, I got you.” The soldier’s hips snap downward again, this time hard enough to shift the table beneath him. Which is more than enough to make you pause.

No.

It couldn’t be.

The soft music and sound of the water feature on the wall nearly drown out the curse König whispers, but you catch it, and can’t stop your lips from curling into a pleased little smile. This was just too good. You start to finish up his neck, brushing some of his hair out of the way so you can rub your fingertips into the skin just below his earlobes. You guide him to turn over and when he doesn’t respond, you wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

“Mr. König?”

He makes a wordless groaning noise low in his throat, laying motionless.

“I need you to turn over, honey.” You don’t even realize you’ve pet-named a grown man you don’t know. Which is just as well, because it seems to be what the soldier needs, and he rises from the table, clutching the towel in a tight fist to maintain his scant modesty.

You turn towards the side table, pouring more oil into your palm. When you return to face him, you witness why exactly he was so reluctant to face the ceiling.

He’s at least half-hard, a very noticeable ridge lifting his towel. You can’t stop staring at it, even though you know König is trying his best to ignore it. You circle around him, and begin at the foot of the table, going through the massage cycle again; feet, calves, thighs, arms. You zone out, following through your motions, listening to the man beneath groan and sigh his contentment. You reach his chest, spreading your hands over his pecs. They’re big, just like the rest of him, you think and it’s hard not to fucking drool on him. He’s firm but soft, still pleasantly warm, despite being exposed to slightly below room temperature air. He shifts again when you hit a stubborn knot right below his collarbone, and you pause to check in.

“Still good?”

His breathing is uneven, shuddering and laboured. His hands clench and relax from white knuckled fists.

“Yes.” he hisses through gritted teeth, and you’re worried he’s undoing every bit of relaxation you’ve tried to bring him. It’s painfully clear where the stress is coming from, hidden underneath a paltry white towel, the enticing elephant in the room. You put your hands back on him.

Still got 45 minutes left, after all.

You try your best not to look smug, and you fail miserably.

Every stroke and rub you perform across his chest makes his cock jerk and twitch under the towel. You can practically see the cloudy drops of precum that’d be beading as his tip. Your thumb nail skates across his pectoral and catches his nipple and the whine he makes is so sweet you just have to do it again. Soon, you’re barely massaging him, groping the poor man under the guise of your job. A weak grunt snaps you out of your reverie, and when you glance down his abdomen at that godforsaken towel, you can’t stop the quiet gasp of shock you release at his erection. “Ah, I’m so sorry. Very sorry” His flush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, a gorgeous stewed cherry colour that overwhelms the pale skin you’d worked into submission. His eyes are screwed shut when you can bear to drag your eyes from his cock to his face. His soft, pink mouth is pulled down at the corners, and the heavy, dark slashes of his eyebrows are furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them you want to smooth out with a kiss.

“It happens all the time. Are you alright to continue?” Your voice is deceptively calm, serene and soft, when all you really want to do is snatch the towel off the battering ram he’d smuggled in here. Your blood thrums, and you ache at the sight of it, at the mere thought of the ungodly stretch he’d put you through.

You will yourself to keep your hands where they are, force yourself to look literally anywhere else. The faux waterfall ahead of you, the wireless speaker droning pleasant, melodic mood music, fuck, you even try staring at the dimmed light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. But every cry and whine forces your eyes down, tempts you to catalogue every inch of flushed skin and threaded muscle. You gnaw on your own lip, and find your hands drifting down, back around his abdomen. You’ve worked through the area already, there is no excuse to be down there, to slip your finger tips under the towel, to push your digits into the skin around his pelvis. “Is this okay?” You have the gall to ask, when you push your fingers lower still, and basically sign your own severance package. Oh but it’d be worth it, to get what you want, to make this big strong man sob with pleasure, to have his mouth on your throat while you stroked him to completion. The memory of his cock in your hand will keep you warm in the unemployment line.

König nods, turns his head towards you but doesn’t open his eyes. His hips cant upwards again, and his towel shifts, parting to reveal his angry, desperate hard-on. He raises a hand from the massage table, letting his mammoth paw land on your hip. He squeezes you, and exhales sharply through his nose when his thumb touches your bare skin, skating over your flesh underneath your work shirt. “Say it.” You mutter and his eyes crack open, just wide enough for you to spot the crystalline blue of his irises between his inky black lashes.

“Please.”

And that’s all you need.

He’s uncut, and the veins blanketing the length of his cock are visible under his foreskin. Pretty in a way you aren’t used to, a denser blush than the rest of his body, but still quite pale. It feels like your hand is moving in slow motion towards it, your fingers twitching in anticipation. The heat of his dick warms your skin before you even make contact, and when you do, wrapping your fingers around the root of it, your fingertips can’t touch. You press your lips together and try not to squeal happily, glee crinkling your eyes.

God is real and he’s an uncircumcised cock on a shy giant.

König’s erection is searingly hot. Soft skin and hard core, jerking in your palm, leaking steadily, nudging at your hand, insistent. Your brain is working full steam and connections necessary to utilize common sense are still not being made. Slowly, you tighten your hold on him, the weight of it is so imposing, you wouldn’t be surprised if imprints of the veiny surface were branded onto your hand once you withdrew. If you ever withdrew. You should fucking withdraw.

You do not withdraw. Instead, you slide your hand up slowly, choking up on the head of his cock before dragging your grip back down. You chance a glance up at his face, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each laboured swallow. The poor man’s jaw clenches and relaxes while you slide your palm over his flesh again and again. Somehow, he hardens further and your eyes widen impossibly larger, the pit of your stomach doing somersaults at the idea of where you want that thing to go, what you want it to do. You get fevered flashes of König bending you over the massage table in your mind, hands on your hips, rutting without sense or logic into you, so hard the surface scrapes against the floor, all while he sobs, his overwhelmed, overstimulated tears splashing against your back while he rearranged your insides. The head of his cock is exposed every time you slide your hand down towards his pelvis. By the third peek, you’re dragging the pointed end of your tongue over the tip of his dick, licking against his head, and coating your mouth with the taste of him. He grips at your side harder, his fingers digging into your hip as he chases the warmth of your mouth. He keens loud, almost mewling when you pull off him, using your spit to ease your hand’s path. By this point, your handiwork is audible, noisy and wet, König’s voice filling the small room. You use your free hand to guide his head to your chest, letting him bend toward you, press his nose into your tits while he begs for you to finish him.

“Are you gonna come, Mr. König?” You thread your fingers in his hair, letting your nails scratch against his scalp, drift down to his nape and up to his crown again.

“Yes, please, please. Fuck.” His voice is reedy and thin, and he wraps his arm around your waist, burying his face deeper in your chest. And then his whole body trembles, and his hips roll towards you, and for a fleeting minute you consider edging the poor bastard, sliding your hand completely off his cock and watching it twitch violently, uselessly in the air.

But he begs so sweetly. And his next session was already pre-booked.

The hand you kept on his head leaves his hair, and you rub the head of his cock with your flat open palm, jerking him off with firm, fast strokes. He bites down on the curve of your breast, and you’re grateful he still managed to retain enough brain cells to not break skin.

“Do it then. Come, honey.” You trill, feeling his tears wet your skin through your shirt. It’s almost instantaneous, so fast it’s kind of impressive. His body goes bowstring-tight, and he squeezes you so hard it almost hurts. Ropes of sticky white seed shoot from his cock, covering your hand and his spasming abdomen. You slide your hand up, milking just the first two inches of him through his orgasm, until he stops your movements himself, covering your hand with his own.

When you finally break contact, you stare at your hand for what feels like ages, thick beads of his cum rolling down your palm, sliding to your wrist. You extricate yourself from his hold, using your clean hand to brush his sweat damp hair from his forehead. You press that kiss you wanted to the space between his brows. Why start restraining yourself now? His body shivers periodically, and you turn to the sink, to wash your hands clean, clenching your own thighs together, his moans and sighs echoing in your mind. You turn to face him, grinning wide and cheery,

“So...I’ll see you next week?”

hoe, you are getting fired! at least you got a man outta it though.

support city girls who love gummy worms, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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cookiepie111 · 3 months

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Eat with me

Inspired by @ghouljams ghost distribution system cause i love food. Make him a meal and he'll just stay (ghost x black reader) not proofread

He just sort of hovers around when you're cooking since he can't really cook the way you do.

Buys fancy ingredients you mentioned in passing " robiola cheese would really make this dish taste good"

Next day he's got it. Where did he even find this in the UK?!

Waits outside your house when you're not around. You were supposed to be free today

Doesn't care what you are cooking as long as he can stay.

You've never seen a man eat iyan and egusi so well

Has the terrible habit of dropping lore bombs when eating so you get a bit nervous now when you're eating with him.

" ever been to Mexico? Pretty nice place. Was buried alive there " *chokes on a chicken breast*

Is too close to when you're do the dishes, drapped around you "I don't think this is how people do dishes together" "Hmm"

He eats well takes home extra too

Now you're shopping together. Carrying groceries, he's staying longer after dinner. You're giving him a blanket for the evening. Eventually a blanket doesn't cut it and he's in your bed

Next thing you know the lasagne is forgotten on the table as you're making out

#simon riley x black reader #ghost x black reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #x black reader #cod x black reader #my writing

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ellemaru · 4 months

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"I Like Your Bike"

Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: On your way back to the hotel with friends, a shiny black motorcycle that belongs to a mysterious serviceman catches your attention.

Word Count: 1,289 Cw | Mentions of alcohol and intoxication

A/N: The character is implied to be black, but you can imagine them however you like !

Drunken laughter mingled with the sounds of other chatter on the bustling street as you walked with your 2 girlfriends and talked with each other, recapping your first day in Manchester, England, and the first out of many stops on the two-month-long trip in Europe. Your heels had become uncomfortable long ago, making you ever so grateful that you had been smart enough to think to bring a pair of flats along as you indulged in Manchester’s nightlife. The group had barhopped and chatted with strangers all night, getting the full Manchester experience as everyone explored the city and took in the views.

As the group neared their hotel, something shiny appeared in the corner of your eye, causing you to slow down your walking speed, the swinging heels in your hand slowing down as your strides did. Your brown eyes narrowed slightly as you tried to make out what the thing was, struggling due to the fact that it was night and you were nearsighted. As you tapped your friend’s shoulder and began to walk toward the unknown object, your eyes adjusted slightly, realizing it was a motorcycle, one of the nice, slick, black ones.

You mindlessly began to run your hand along the smooth and shiny exterior of the motorcycle until a voice popped you out of the trance.

“Mate, you can’t just touch random people's bikes,”

When you looked up, you were met with a brick wall in the form of a man. He stood around 6’3 and was obviously jacked based on the way his compression shirt hugged his pectoral muscles and biceps. His bright hazel eyes practically had you hooked already, was it the alcohol, or were they that pretty? No one knows, but you did know that this guy was HOT.

“Uhhh, I um,” you giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before remembering that

You are NOT Debby Ryan and you are NOT on Radio Rebel

You forgot to lay the lace down again by your ear when you installed your wig earlier

The man cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at you, the action slightly concealed by the black balaclava he wore that had a skull print on it, an interesting choice considering the heat.

“Are you not hot in that mask?”

“Did you not notice your friends aren’t here anymore?” he replied with a teasing tone.

When you turn around, you see that your friends have indeed left you with the mysterious man and continued on to their hotel.

“Lass, I think you need some better friends,” he let out a quick chuckle, like…the personification of haha.

“Your laugh is funny,” you giggle as you lean in closer to him, looking at the metal tags that hang around his neck.

“Simon Riley,” you read his name slowly as you looked up, tilting your head to the side slightly, wondering if it was actually his name or if he was wearing a deceased relative's dog tags. He nodded as he looked back down at the smaller woman. They sat in silence for several awkward moments before you decided to break the silence.

“I like your bike,”

“Thanks,” annnnd it was back to silence again

“You don’t talk much,”

“Not much to talk about with a random drunk lass I’ve met,”

“Fair point…What kind of bike is that?” that question was all you needed to get Simon’s attention.

That one question led to a whole conversation as he explained the ins and outs of his bike which was apparently a Yamaha R1 but other than that, he was fluent in yapping. The only thing you were focused on was his deep voice, thick British accent, and the way his compression shirt hugged all the right places on his torso. It seemed he didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes, mainly due to the fact that you had drunk way too much earlier.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked you as he leaned against his bike.

The first thing that ran through your mind was “What kind of ride”.

“Huh?”

“I asked do you want to ride my motorcycle with me, like, do you want to be my backpack?” he asked again, giving his signature, stereotypical haha laugh.

“Oh uhh sure! I mean um that sounds like fun or whatever,” when you caught yourself seeming too eager, you changed up the way you phrased your sentence quickly.

When he turned around to give you a jacket and a helmet, he patted his pockets like he always does when he’s missing something before groaning from annoyance and pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand.

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have an extra jacket or helmet on me right now so it seems we won’t be doing any riding today, but we could always do it another time I guess, dunno,” he mumbled the last part, “How long will you be here in Manchester?” he inquired, wondering how much time he would have before you would leave the city and the country

“I think we’re going to be here for at least another week,” you shrug as you see him frantically pull out his phone, almost dropping it once before he hands it to you, the contact screen open. Once you two exchange numbers, silence falls upon the two of you again.

“I could walk you back to your hotel if you would like, I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at night, especially as a tourist. Plus my mom would kill me if she found out I didn’t offer,” he laughs as he holds out his arm towards you.

“That would be nice,” you smile as you hook your arm in his, your brown skin contrasting with his pale one. He quickly unhooks his arm to place his leather jacket over your shoulders before linking arms again and heading on your way to the hotel. During the walk back, the two of you got to know each other, learning about interests and current status in life along with cracking jokes and just breaking the ice. It was about a 15-minute walk back to the hotel and once the two of you got back, you sighed, a little sad that your time together was already over for the day.

“We’re here. Thank you for walking me back to my hotel again, it was really sweet of you to do this because you really didn’t have to,”

“Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t offer?” he snapped a flower from a nearby plant and handed it to you, “a pretty flower for the pretty lass,” he winked as you took it.

“Ugh, you Brits are such charmers, I’m quite sad to say that it worked too,” you both laughed for a few moments as he unlinked your arms.

“You free tomorrow at 19:00?”

“I’m so glad I understand military time, and yes I am,”

“Alright lass, I’ll be here in the lobby then, make sure you’re on time,” he gently takes your hand in his gloved one and kisses it through his balaclava. He gives one more wink before he turns on the heels of his combat boots and strides confidently out of the hotel. You stood there, absolutely shocked at what occurred before you realized you still had on his leather jacket. You ran outside to find him and tell him he had forgotten his jacket, but by that time, he had already disappeared into the cool Summer night. At least that meant you were guaranteed to see him tomorrow because there was no way he would just forget the nice leather jacket.

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sintiva · 11 months

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COD MEN FAVORITE POSITIONS (AND SOME KINKS)

includes: könig, ghosty pooh and price

content: black fem!reader, penetrative sex, different positions, cream pie, slight power dynamics, hair pulling, nudes!, size differences, minor sub/dom themes, spanking (briefly hinted at), each individual has their own tags!

notes: FINALLY WRITING FOR VIDEO GAME CHARACTERS THAT DAY DREAM ABOUT DAILY😣 i feel like i just worked off a heavy load, please enjoy this though it was very short. i hopw with this i’ll feel more comfortable with writing for them, plus some more in the future! feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶🏽

KÖNIG > missionary ☺️

| könig loves this position for many reasons, but his biggest reason for pinning your legs up by your chest, folding you in all the right ways, is because he absolutely adores looking at your face during sex. your praise, soft coos and gorgeous expression’s makes his cheeks burn out of embarrassment and how easy you make it to lust for you.

…“a little harder,” you pant and plead with the heavy man on top of you. könig has sharp ears and everything you say is responded to in little to no time. he’s come to learn that when you ask for it harder, you don’t mean fast and hard, but slow, and really sensual.

he realizes that he loves this position so much, because he loves seeing how much of his dick you can take, and he loves insatiable the both of you become.

his hips swing down harder, it’s skin to skin. your pussy takes all of him, but not without a little resistance. not without him knocking the air out of your lungs. your pants grow louder, and your body is getting pounded into the mattress with each of his thrust. you can feel him all in your stomach, placing all his weight into each individual thrusts. he’s itching to hear something though, forgetting that he’s fucking you absolutely senseless.

sometimes he hates that he likes this position so much, because when he ends up fucking you harder, listening to your every command— you lose all ability to respond. he’s fucking you relentlessly. making your body tremble, the words you can manage, rarely make sense; everything’s slurred. “come on, y/n? is’t good?”

“gimme something, please?”

he gives you those sweet, innocent puppy eyes of his. soft, warm kisses to your lips — that he ends up tugging on cause he loves, loves, loves your lips and how they make him feel… during other activities.

“‘s goo’” you mumble, your finger nails dig into the skin of his back, and you squeezing him in all the right places. könig grows so overwhelmed during missionary with you, he gets so loud and whiny. your pussy is the perfect fit, every ridge gets a feel, he scratches that itch so sweetly — he’s in so deep and won’t pull out. is the absolute king of ‘i tried to, really, i did, i just couldn’t you felt too good.” let’s not talk about how embarrassed he gets either, and how much he loves letting every single drop of cum empty out of his balls right into your pussy. do

and his eyes.!.!..!.!.!. puppy eyes all through missionary omg 🥺 <<< looks at you like that when you beg for his strokes to be not so deep

🪴

GHOST > doggy/backshots, asphyxiation, little bit of brat taming

| myself, personally, thinks that simon’s favorite position doggy. there’s something enticing about seeing how your ass and thighs ripple from each thrust, and hearing the sound of skin clapping together. and he definitely likes ass, no questions asked. him and his buddy price who i will get to next☺️

…simon has some obsession with being in control of many things. he needs answers, solutions and plans that keeps him in charge. but all that kinda goes away during sex. sex with you ends up being different. first your snobby, giving him attitude, then you’re begging for his attention, and then somehow you end up crying because he tends to get really aggressive and dominant when it comes to sex.

so it’s taken quite a while to find out how the both of you could find some common ground during the deed; which just so happened to be learned when you both tried doggy.

it keeps him grounded, the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips, being able to pull your hair, and all the ways he can finesse your body and make you feel just how pent up being GHOST gets him. hanging with dudes all day, and getting soft core nudes/videos from his s/o doesn’t make his days any easier. which explains why he comes through the door fuming, a bulge you can clearly see through his work pants and an irreversible silence.

he’s all big, strong, hot, an overwhelming and brute full man. he rarely gives you time to think, he’s pulling you onto his lap, tossing whatever spoon of food you have into the sink, parting your legs and stuffing two fingers into your mouth. then he’s filling you up with them. he’s stirring your insides with his fingers, just enough to get you wet and prepped, because every time you have sex with ghost, it feels like he’s reaching your throat. it feels like he’s stretching you out for the first time, “s-simon.”

“don’t.”

AND HE’S LITERALLY CHOKING YOU. thick fingers pressing into the sides of your throat, tears streaking your eyes, yet, you’re getting wetter on his fingers. he love’s that look in your eye when you start to get a little dizzy. eyes rolling into the back of your head, and you’re so close to cumming on his fingers. don’t ask me why, and if i get into it i will lose my mind.

and little you just loves to tease. you like to cry and act all innocent when he’s getting ready to put it in. he lines up his tip, and he’s literally throbbing, his dick feels like it’s ready to burst. just thinking of putting it in makes him squeeze your ass a couple of times, but then you’re always moving around or shying away from it. he’ll spank you a couple times, “stop acting like a fucking brat, or i’ll fuck you like one.”

“mhmm,” one wiggle of your hips, “do it then.”

a mission he never takes lightly. your face is stuck in your pillow, moaning and whining as he fucks you like a slut. one foot up on the bed, your ass all up in his hands, your back hurts from how deep your arch is, but you find it physically impossible to deny how good it feels. on top of that it doesn’t take long for him to cum — in this position, but it takes him a while to get burnt out. which causes long nights of sex, and love making, and it leaves you bruised and fussy for the next couple of days until your begging for more, which is a common reoccurrence.

🪴

CPT. PRICE > reverse cowgirl, daddy kink 🪖

| now listen… price loves when his partner is in control of sex, not because he’s submissive, but he likes when you control your pleasure, and he’s a man who loves to please. just lay him down, hop on top and you won’t here the end of it, and he likes it in reverse cause he gets to play with your ass while you ride him.

“who’s daddy’s good girl?”

“m-me.”

you sniffle, ruby red lip stick smeared all over your cheeks — puffy sore eyes from so many tears that bled black from your mascara.

“good girl, keep riding daddy’s dick just like that.”

he plops his hand down right on your ass, with one hand gently positioned behind his head as he falls in love with the view of your ass completely swallowing up his dick with each bounce of your hips. pussy managing to accommodate his girth, how’d he get so fucking lucky.

price is one helluva man, and he truly adores making you overstimulate yourself til you’re twitching on his cock, sensitive and bruised all over. every inch of you, from the fluff of your hips, to the dips in your back. when he’s doing anything, really, he likes to keep his hands on his pretty baby at all times, and he stands by that. it’s full on princess treatment with him.

but back to this position, price will gently tell you how he wants it, he’s a totally different man when he’s talking to you, but is nurturing about it. “let me help you, princess, gimme your hands.”

you pull your hands from his thighs and extend them backwards, and he will literally pull them back. hips pistoning up into you, carving his shape into you till you feel numb. it’s tiring, but he’s a soldier who’s done work far more excruciating. the moment he has your hands threaded among his own, your ass his big meaty thighs, that he definitely loves to see you sitting on, connect over and over. the sound of wet smacking, ‘plat plat’ ringing through out the room.

heeeee adores it! and will never not have sex without letting his favorite girl sit on her throne and take a sweet ride.

tagging: @p-powerr @blkcupid @takemichiluvr @lovelyyceleste @nneedynymph @privateparty3 @lemmetreatya @mochadollz @h3llokttybrat

#ghost x reader #ghost x black reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #könig x reader #könig x black reader #cod könig #price x reader #captain price #price mw2 #cod x reader #cod x black reader #cod mwf2

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

Tbh the way you write Krueger gives me sugar daddy / obsessive vibes (not that I can complain). I love the idea of him being so obsessed to please sweetheart in any way she wants (personally I HC him as a service top switch, specially w the way you write him). But if you’re ever up to it I’d love some Krueger drabble (or ghost or könig bc they’re yummy too)

-🪿(hönk)

HÖNK BABES OMG

18+

You are so right with him being a service top 👏 ugh he would so eat her out until she passes out. Round after round, with his big ass hands clamped around her thighs and his thick tongue flicking against her overworked clit. AUGH he would cum so quickly because of her taste and moans. He would cum just from eating her out 💀💀

And he 10000000%% is obsessive with Sweetheart. He only thinks about Sweetheart 25/8 and all he wants to do is please her. He calls her "My little Goddess" for a reason ✨️ just touching her is a blessing to him. Touching her hand, he would crumble right then and there. He would do anything and EVERYTHING for this woman. He wants-- NEEDS-- to be around her all the time, or he will go INSANE. He's also pretty possessive with her. But Sweetheart shut that shit down, so he's only just a little teehee🤭 but yeah he becomes quite jealous when people talk to her. Don't touch her because you will lose a hand. And if you make a move? Oh, you're gonna end up either on a t-shirt or on a milk carton.

(I can go on and on with Krueger about being an obsessive freak with Sweets HAHA)

And hönk omg sugar daddy Krueger makes me want to fold😭 she wouldn't even ask him to be a sugar daddy, he would just do it himself. He LOVES spoiling her, even though she doesn't ask for it, he does it anyway. And of course she's thankful for it, she's not a brat. But that makes him buy MORE SHIT FOR HER

It's a cycle:

• Krueger buys something for Sweets

• Sweets yells at him

• Sweets says thank you and smiles

• Krueger gets the happy juice in his brain

And then it starts over 💀

He's even bought her an apartment close to his, but she wanted to stay in her old family home, so he said "okay. I'll just live closer to you" and she's like-- w h a t 🧍‍♀️

And OH he would so buy toys for her. Like vibrators. He bought one that he could control from afar and that was such a fun day LOL When he's not around, like on a mission, he made a mold out of his cock for her 💀 and yk... she uses it sometimes HWHEHSHES Krueger asked her to send a video of her using it and she does. She was so embarrassed and shy when she did it. Wearing one of Krueger's shirts and ONLY his shirt-- and her hair out (he loves seeing her hair down) and she's on the bed with the toy and she lubes it up, cause it's fucking huge. AND IT HAS A SUCTION CUP LOL so she just slaps on the bed frame and rubs it on her slit.

Fuck, and Krueger is just watching it like it's the last thing on earth. He is so FUCKING HARD and he wants to be there and fuck her himself. He hears her little whimper when the toy prods her hole. Sweet's is bent on the bed and holding a pillow, her eyebrows knitted and tears already springing in her eyes. Omg that makes Krueger go FERALLL

And once she backs her thick ass back into it, she squeals so loudly and starts to twitch. "Fuck... I think I just came..." GIRL I THINK KRUEGER JUST CAME WHEN YOU SAID THAT WTF-- she starts to grind on it, as much as she can fit, and starts to bounce on it. Her moans and whimpers flow through the speaker of his phone and other soldiers are just frozen and turned on, and are scared to shit to tell him that everyone can hear what's playing on his phone 💀(he honestly doesnt give a shit, hes too engrossed on the video) and Graves comes over, pissed at Krueger because it's extremely distracting whatever is on his phone. Graves was about to speak until he saw Sweetheart fucking herself on the biggest dildo he has ever seen. He has never seen her moan and whimper like that-- like gurl where has this side been?? And he just stands there with his eyes big and mouth gaping. His dick twitches in his pants and he feels light-headed. The fucking wet sounds of her stretched pussy and her low babbles and her bottom half jiggling with every bounce is straight torture for the both of them.

"Fuuucckkkk Krueger, if this is the size of your actual fucking cock I don't think I can take it..." Sweetheart whimpers out. Graves is like- SORRY WHAT

THAT BIG THING IS A MOLD OF KRUEGER'S COCK??? It's literally making a small bulge in her stomach when she sits up and it's not even in all the fucking way. Krueger growls, his knee bouncing like CRAZZYY "You'll take it, baby. You will." He mumbles to himself. Omg he's so turned on its making him unstable.

She goes faster, the bed frame creaking with her backing up on it. She gets louder and her thighs start shaking so damn much. "Cumming... Cumming!" She bites the pillow hard as her pussy creams around the dildo. She makes such a mess on the bed frame omg (Krueger and Graves wanted to lick it all clean) and she's breathing heavily, trying to calm herself down. Once she does, she gets up to get her phone, they can see that she's a bit sweaty and eyes teary and low. She wipes her face and she sighs before speaking. "I can't believe I did this. Fuck I'm still shaking. Just-- be safe Krueger." And the video ends. The silence is THICCKKKK AFTERWARDS LMAO

But I am making a smut fic between Krueger and Sweetheart, so keep an eye out for that!

1K notes · View notes

dejwrites · 1 year

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀rekindled, john price

divorce can either turn dark or be a smooth ride down lala land. john and you've been divorced for a while now, but it's not really much of a secret that he just can't stay away from you. especially when he has returned from being whisked away with task force 141.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind, ex husband!john, established past relationship, john and reader have a set of twins, reader gossiping with her friends, italics means a flashback, profanity usage, slight second chance lovers trope // smut warnings: oral (f.receiving), standing position, dirty talk, possessive!john prince, some love bombs are dropped, breeding kink, description of making out // word count: 4.4k, // ao3 // minors dni.

YOU AND YOUR EX-HUSBAND DIDN’T REALLY LEAVE ON A BAD NOTE. But You didn’t leave on a good note either. Your marriage just slowly became dull. Of course, you still had your beautiful twin boys that seemed to steal that charming smile John had. However, you were fully aware that attempting to stay together for the sake of the kids—did more harm than good. The divorce was finalized and the two of you were okay with co-parenting, actually, you’ve been doing it for over a year now. It’s been working well considering what John did for a living, so the majority of the time the boys were with you. When he came back home, they stayed with him.

It was okay. You were okay being newly divorced, having a nice paying job that you enjoyed, your two sons striving in academics and extracurricular activities, and you even oddly joined a book club also. The book club was filled with different types of women. From the women married to rich bachelors to the freshly divorced who snuggled up with their pool boys after the children slept. They were quite an odd crowd to hang around, but you were genuinely happy. Although you couldn’t relate to your husband buying you a brand new Mercedes or having a sultry affair with your child’s teacher, this group of women knew how to have fun when they wanted to.

Maybe that’s how you whine up at the town’s local bar with them. After realizing how hot and steamy the chapters of this month’s book club book were, you and the ladies decided to go into town for a drink or two. It’s the least you guys could do after a long week of student-teacher conferences and football tournaments.

“Do you ever miss him?” Blonde-haired Cheryl asked as she down a shot of tequila. Her face scrunched up as she picked up the lime slice to suck on. “You know? John?” She adds to ensure that her question was meant for you.

“What is there to miss? We divorced and went our separate ways. Our boys are happy, and that’s all we care about.” You answered truthfully.

“And what if she told you he just walked in right now as we’re speaking.” Thirty-two-year-old Sheila asked. Her brown skin glistened under the bar light as she leaned back into the booth seat. She twirled her finger around a coil on top of her head before letting out a drunken dreamy sigh.

“He isn’t coming back to town until next week.” You answered. The two women stared at you as if you’d grown another arm out of your body. You were sure it was because they drank too much, but Sheila had pointed at the figure that stopped to greet the very popular bartender that had seen everyone who stepped foot in here at their lowest.

You followed where she was pointing, and your breath hitched in your throat. There John was chatting with the bartender—completely making up for the lost time of him not being around. Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip as you quickly turned around before he could fully notice you. You watched as Cheryl placed her head in her hand with a cheeky grin on her face.

“What?” You asked as you leaned forward to capture the straw in your alcoholic beverage. “It’s not a big deal; he could be here to meet someone. You know, we’ve divorced you guys. He’s allowed to date.”

“Mhm, okay.” Sheila laughs. “Why are you suddenly so fidgety? You can’t even sit straight now.”

Now it was Cheryl piecing the pieces together. She’s been with you from the start of the divorce and even asked her husband to be your lawyer. She and Sheila knew you so well. Yes, she knew that you haven’t gotten laid since the divorce, claiming so many times that it’s messy to introduce a man in your life so soon. Despite you and John being divorced for a while now. But Cheryl was calling bullshit. She then covered her mouth in complete shock as the alcohol gave her a boost of realization. “You didn’t!?” She shrieks loudly, and that causes some people to glance in the table’s direction.

“Did what?” Sheila asked as she looked at her before popping another peanut in her mouth.

“You gave him some, didn’t you?” Cheryl asked. She collected the untouched tequila shot meant for you and downed it with ease. “You gave John some before he left and didn’t even tell us. Here I’m thinking you were practicing abstinence?” Her manicured fingers pointed at you like you were on trial for the Salem Witch Trials.

“What? That’s nonsense,” Now you were taking huge gulps of your drink. Even took the skinny black straw from the drink and down it until it was burning your insides.

“She did. She sees him and suddenly can’t sit straight. Don’t even want to see him. So, she must have enjoyed it.” Sheila laughed. “Spill the details now, or I’m throwing this peanut at your forehead.”

You couldn’t even lie your way out of this. What they were saying was true. Before John had to leave, right after dropping your sons back off to you—one thing led to another, and you found yourself gasping out his name and seeing stars in the moment's bliss. You hated to admit that was what you had thought about since he left. When your eyes closed to go to sleep, you visualized that moment of him being in between your thighs that night. Your cheeks even heated in embarrassment as you sat here trying to deny it happened. Having sex with your ex-husband was messy, especially when you have been telling your friends that you've been going out on dates and attempting the dating pool again.

“He dropped the boys off, and it just happened, okay?” You threw your hands up in defeat. “One thing led to another, clothes being torn off—you guys know the deal.”

“But did you feel anything, or was it just sex?” Cheryl asked.

“Like, did he fuck you with meaning or like a one-night stand?” Sheila asked.

“Sheila!” Cheryl shrieked as she playfully smacked her arm.

“What, Cheryl? I think this is an important question to ask, considering the circumstances. If he fucked her like a one-night stand, he just wanted a last little taste so he could go on about his life. But if he fucked her with some meaning, maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to let go just yet.” Cheryl had taken a sip of her vodka tonic and gave you a grin. “So which one was it, Y/N?”

Which one was it? You couldn’t even remember. You sat twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night came swirling around your brain for you to remember.

“They’ve been playing all damn day, so I figure that would be ready for bed when they get here,” John commented as he tucked one of the children in.

You only hummed at his response as you leaned down to tuck your other son in. It was good that they were going to bed at a reasonable time since they had school the following morning. You just were grateful that John was being a responsible parent and returning them at a good time that worked for both of you. As you two left the twins' room, you felt like this feeling was a little too familiar. The tucked the boys in, the each giving them a kiss goodnight and then sneaking out of the room not to wake them. It felt strange now, knowing with the divorce finalized—the two of you didn’t go to the shared bedroom together. Instead, John would share his farewell and just leave.

You were still getting used to your home's subtle silence now that John wasn’t here. You knew that if he were still here around this time—you would hear the laughter of your three favorite boys playing video games or watching television. But now it wasn’t like that. You no longer heard John’s loud laughter that echoed through the halls, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. It was just silence.

“I’m going away for a couple of weeks, possibly a month max.” John breaks your thoughts as he stops you from going further down the hall. He noticed the grasp he had on your hand and quickly dropped it.

You were used to talks like this. Once again, it was different with you two being divorced this time. Your lips form a straight line as you realize that you’ll have to give your sons the talk. “Did you tell the boys?” You asked.

“Of course, they took the news quite well. Shockingly,” John chuckles as he rubs at his facial hair before sighing. “I just wanted to let you know also.”

“They’re not our little babies anymore; they’re getting so big.” You admitted. “But I appreciate you telling me,” You added.

He gives you a grin of satisfaction before he shares his farewells to find his way out. However, now it was you stopping him from departing. “Just return back to us—I mean them, in one piece.” You gave him a genuine smile that you knew he had to return.

“And if I don’t?” John turns to take a step forward, once again closing the gap between you two as you stand in the hallway.

“I’m going to come to save you myself if I have to. I am not going through these boys' teenage years alone, you smug asshole.” You said as you were trying to bite back a grin.

John glances at you with a twinkle in his eyes. His heart pinged at the sight of that grin. Some days he found himself questioning what went wrong without realizing that nothing can go wrong in a relationship. However, people can outgrow each other. They can just realize that it wasn’t working out anymore, and John was trying so hard to attach that statement to the two of you. He just couldn’t. The captain couldn’t let you go. He was quite upset that he let you go—that he sat and let the divorce happen.

“So please, John Price, return in one piece quickly.” You repeated. You noticed his eyes glancing at your lips and soon staring back at you. He did that when he wanted to kiss you. You’ve known him for years to tell that.

“And if you want one last kiss, just get it over with, John.” You threw your hands up in defeat, knowing that this would only complicate and confuse things. But then again, this could be the last time you see him.

With that, he’s kissing you. He’s kissing you so hard that you forget to breathe for a second. Your fingers grasped at his shirt to get him closer. Your back was pushed against the wall as John deepened the kiss. His tongue glides across your lower lip, aching to taste you. His guess was you were drinking wine before he dropped the kids off because, on Sunday nights, you spent it drinking wine and indulging in a bubble bath. Of course, he remembered that. He knew you more than he fuckin’ knew himself.

Your lips parted without a fight or fuss just to let John in. His tongue slithers in your mouth, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. John’s kisses always took you to another universe. They were so intense that they made your knees go weak. They made you sit and think about them. They had you wanting more. Maybe this kiss and the fact that you haven’t been laid since the divorce had you eager for more. His lips disconnect from your lips to kiss your jawline and then to your neck. His facial hair tickles you, and you bite back a childish giggle as you notice how fast he moves. His hands lingered in the pastel pink silk robe that seemed to loosen each second.

“Fuck, I missed this,” John whispered before he planted a kiss on your swollen lips again.

“We’re going to wake the boys. We should go into the room,” You said between the subtle breaks of the kiss. “They’ll question why you’re still here, you know?”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He leads you to the master bedroom that once was shared by you two. The scent of John still lingers around even though you even redecorated the room to your liking.

Your back pushes against the room door to close it shut as your eyes watch John tugging the shirt he wore over his head. Your teeth got caught in your lip as you took him in. From his broad shoulders to the battle scars. The sight of him had your panties wet and forced you to clutch your thighs shut. He took two steps to be closer to you again, his eyes taking in your features. From your coils that fell in your face due to your wash-n-go style to those eyes that put him in a trance every time he looked at you. His hands travel down to untie the knot of the silk robe.

Your skin is now garnished with goosebumps as soon as the crisp air in your room hits your skin. Your nipples had already hardened from just the sight of John, so they immediately poked through the silk fabric. John’s mouth watered at the sight of you. He always thought you were the most beautiful woman he had seen. His tongue wets his lips before he gets on his knees without a word to help you step out of your panties. He’s prompting one of your legs over his shoulder without a care, and without warning, he’s indulging in your taste. The flat of his tongue gliding across your wet folds. John missed this. He missed being between your plush legs, hearing you whimpering his name and clawing your fingers through his hair.

His tongue flickers at your clit, which got you talking. Your hand went up to muffle your moans, but as soon as you felt John’s tongue trace the outline of your entrance—you had lost any grace to keep your voice down. Your knees buckled slightly at the feeling of him in between your thighs. John ignored your pleas and cried about how good he made you feel. The only thing on his mind was the thought of tasting you. Making you come so good that when he left—he was the only thing on your mind. Was that selfish of John? Probably so, but he didn’t give a damn.

Teasingly he placed a kiss on your thigh before going back in. His nose nuzzled at your pubes as he took his index and middle finger to insert inside of you without warning. He let his tongue flicker at your sensitive bud as he thrusts his fingers inward. Your juices dripped down his slender digits as he fingered you. His eyes make eye contact with you as he’s curving his finger just to hit that spot that causes you to yell out his name.

“John baby, please. I’m about to-“ Your words stopped abruptly when you felt him remove himself from you. Your orgasm blew away as quickly as ever as John stood up off his knees. He’s staring at you with so much lust in his eyes—it was the same look he gave you the night the twins were conceived.

His bulge was noticeable in his pants; you took it upon yourself to tug him closer in a heated kiss. The taste of you now encrypts your tongue while you undo the button on his pants. You let your hand rub at his bulge, causing him to groan in the kiss. As you were helping him out his bottoms, his callous hands fully tugged the silk robe off. The robe decorated the brown wooden floors alongside John’s clothes, and with each passing minute, you became whole again.

He lifts you up easily, and a chill goes down your spine at the feeling of his cock brushing against your entrance. You were expecting him to carry you to the bed. You wouldn’t have minded him taking you in a missionary position where you could feel extra stroke; he put his all in. Or doggy style, where you could muffle out his name in the fluffy pillow. But instead, he’s using the door to lean your back upon, and with one hand holding you up—he using his other to help guide you upon his cock. Your arms snake around his neck in a strong grasp from the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out and the fear of him dropping you. You two had never done a position so vulgar, so this came as a shock to you. But the only thing you could do is indulge in the glorious feeling of John.

It was such an amazing feeling. It felt like John was the only thing you could stutter out. How his hands guided you up and down his cock had your eyes lolling in the back of your head. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip to muffle your moans because you didn’t want to wake the boys. With each thrust upward, you felt your juices dripping down your thighs. When you made eye contact with John, you didn’t think you could get any wetter than you already were. He looked so wonderful like this. Balls deep inside you, uttering how well you’re taking him and how beautiful you look. Were you falling back in love with him, or was that just the way he was fucking you that had your brain all mushy inside.

“You haven’t been giving this pussy to anyone else, have you?” John questioned through his rhythmic thrusting.

You couldn’t muster up an answer until he fully tugged himself from thrusting upward inside of you and slamming himself back into your wet pussy once again. This time repeat the question so you can answer him loud and clear.

“No, I’m all yours, John.” You whimpered out with tears of pleasuring, staining your lash line.

You leaned in to kiss him deeply, your fingers combing through his hair, just wanting to feel closer to him. Although your bodies were already swapping sweat and intertwined closer than ever, it just felt right at the moment, wanting to be closer to John. His thrusting became quicker, and you knew he was most likely about to cum. You could always tell when he was about to come.

Cause when John came, he came a lot. Big heavy loads of his cum just oozed out when he came. He had a thing where he would always come inside you unless you told him not to. But it didn’t shock you; he told you before you two got engaged that he wanted kids. You always joke that it was why you were graced with twins instead of one child.

His face would get as red as a tomato, and the only thing you could hear him say as he cast soft kisses upon your neck and collarbone was your name.

“Y/N..Y/N..I love you, Y/N.”

When the two of you were being tugged down by the intense feeling of your orgasms, you quickly went to tug on your rob. Your skin felt hot, sticky, and you smelt like him. You were shuffling in embarrassment as you collected John’s clothes off the floor and shoved them in his hands. You couldn’t even progress the fact that he uttered those words to you.

“You must get out of here before the boys see you.” You were avoiding looking at him because you knew you would want more. You knew you couldn’t say those words because it would further confuse you.

You were expecting him to argue against your words, but John collected his clothes and started to put them on. The two of you were silent as you sat on the bed, attempting to collect your thoughts. You had just slept with your ex-husband and enjoyed it. Actually, you were eager for me.

And the last thing John said to you before leaving the bedroom you once shared was to give the boys one last kiss for me.

You leaned back into your seat, watching as your two friends were a giggling mess.

“I can’t believe you kicked him out afterward. You could at least let him sleep in the guests' room.” Cheryl said.

“Hell, he had his head in between her thighs. Might as well sleep in the master bedroom.” Sheila adds.

Sheila would finish her drink and check her phone, “Oh shit, the wife has come to pick us tipsy stranglers up.” She says as she looks at you. “I mean, you can always ask John for a ride. Considering you already…you know.”

Cheryl snickers as she tugs her jacket on and collects her belongings. “Sheila, we have to be serious. He can’t know what we know. Now I’m heading to the ladies' room before we leave; you coming?”

“Oh yeah,” Sheila says.

“I’ll meet you two outside.” You slipped on your jacket and moved by the crowd in the bar to exit. Purposely avoiding the direction that John was near.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just knew seeing him would mean you’ll bombard yourself with feelings that you've been thinking about since he left. You’ll be forced to think about how maybe letting him was a huge mistake.

As soon as you stepped outside, you called the babysitter for your sons to let them know that you were on your way home. Your back leaned against the brick wall waiting for Sheila and Cheryl—of course, they would take forever in the bathroom when you needed to run away from someone. You tugged your jacket further on your body once you felt the crisp nightly breeze brush by you. Suddenly, you could feel someone standing next to you. And you knew it was him.

For one.) he probably saw you leave in such a hurry you would think you left your oven on at your house or two.) Cheryl and Sheila didn’t actually go to the bathroom. They most likely drunkenly approached him and said that you were waiting for him.

“We need to talk.” It seemed you two said at the same time.

Now you were facing him, the sound of the bar door was pushed open, and your two friends bubbly stumbled out, arms linked with each other as they walked towards Sheila's wife's car.

“Bye, John,” Cheryl drags out his name with a childish grin, not hiding that she knew you two slept together. “Y/N? Are you coming? They can drop you off also.”

“She’s in good hands, Cheryl. I’ll make sure she gets off safely.” John gives her a half grin, and you look at your friends, trying to telepathically tell them not to leave you alone with him.

But Sheila only winked at you before wishing her farewells to you and John and dragging a tipsy Cheryl away. Now the two of you were alone. Just you, him, and your thoughts about that night before he left.

“We should get going. The babysitter is waiting for us—I mean me.” You said, and with that, you followed John to his car.

Too many memories hit you all at once when you were in the passenger seat. The scent of John, obviously. The one crayon marking from one of the twins was on the dashboard. The driver's side that you occasionally would glance at John and watch him drive. He’ll always catch you staring before you look away in embarrassment. Gosh, you couldn’t forget the times that seat was reclined back, and you climbed on top of him like a hormonal sex-deprived woman. But you shouldn’t be thinking about this at the moment. You wanted to have a clear conversation with him without anything sexual getting involved.

“Is this the part where we awkwardly talk about what happened?” John questioned. His eyes stared ahead on the road, and you just felt so little in his car.

Facing your feelings head-on as soon as that question comes out. Your fingers toyed with the bracelets that decorated your wrist before speaking, “We had sex. What more is there to say?”

You could hear your ex-husband tapping at the steering wheel. He clicks his tongue before speaking, “That’s what it was? Doesn’t seem like it, but okay.” He makes a turn, and you take note that he was purposely taking the long way back to the home you two once shared.

“Okay?” You asked. “Is that why you’re taking a long way home? Come on, John. We’ve taken this route before when we want-” You stopped midsentence realizing what you would say.

It was the same way he would take where he would pull over after a romantic date, and the two of you would engage in a heated quickie. He would take the same route if you two needed to argue a little longer to prevent your sons from hearing it when you were home. The last time you took this route, your lips parted to utter the word divorce; the rest was history.

“Because we need to talk. You know more than I know that what happened was more than just sex.”

You grew silent, slowly slumping in your seat. “But what’s next if I say I felt more?” You asked. Your arms cross over your chest, sighing. “We can’t just get together.”

“Why not?” John stops at the red light, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Oh, that gaze. He knew what he was doing. He knew that right now, the way his eyes drank in your looks as if you were the finest bottle of whiskey made your heart flutter in your chest. You looked away, not having an answer to his question because there weren’t any. Deep down, you wanted to give you and John another try.

It was only right that you rekindled the old flame that blew out.

After a minute of silence and the low hum of whatever generic pop song was playing on the radio, you asked. “So, how does this work?”

“I guess we take it one step at a time.” He gives you a reassuring smile that you return.

“One step at a time.” You repeated before finally relaxing in your seat.

One step at a time at rekindling your marriage.

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xiamentshoneypot · 2 months

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I saw your “I’m - Ofcourse” TikTok trend with Simon, can you do one for Soap or König????

Of course anything for my loved anon p.s sorry it took so long work was whipping my ass

Anywho

Not proof read beware

Pure fluff

KONIGS VERSION “I’m- Of course”

“My Boyfriends nickname is-”

“Husband, Liebling” the large masked man interrupted.

The camera cuts to her face glowing in the warm sunlight and the bottom of the masked draped on his face, showing a dark blotch instead.

“You have you let me get it out first”

“I know but you didn’t start properly”

The camera pans downwards to the vibrant beauty

“His nickname is Kilgore of course he’s squeamish to movie gore.” The camera again cut to the blotch

An ironically low rough voice sounds out

“She’s my wife and my wife only” the serious Austrian man deadpanned

The camera cuts again to the sky

“No you have to follow the trend”

“I was just making sure they know we’re married”

“No we aren’t”

“We can be”

The camera cuts again back to her

“He spoils me of course I don’t know what the word no means”

Back to the you guessed it …… the blotch

“She’s mine forever of course I’ll fight you to the death for her”

“It isn’t the 13th century”

And she’s immediately cut off

“So?”

Take 2

“My boyfriend is over 6’7 of course we had to have the door frames raised in our house.” The much shorter beauty grinned.

“Meine Frau ist Amerikanerin, natürlich schlachtet sie Deutsch, wenn sie mich wiederholt oder verspottet”.

“Huh”

The camera pans up again, to high up so you can only see the top of her head.

“Kö you’re going to high again lower it a little please.”

He looks down at the tiny phone in his huge hands the phone is a little above his waist line.

“Honey, that’s the lowest I can do without crouching”

The camera pans down again this time her head in frame.

“My boyfriend is-“

“Husband”

“we’re not starting this again”

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merakidoll · 7 months

Text

choking w / ghost !

his cock pumped into you deep and hard. moving your body with his as you both stared into the large mirror eyes connected because you could only imagine what would happen if you didn’t keep them open. your teeth dug into your arm not wanting to let out the loud drawn out sounds that your throat burned to possess. ghost finding it humorous how you didn’t want to prove his point. that you were nothing but his silly subby girl.

“daddies here” he encouraged, his hips thrusting against your ass causing recoil that somehow made him feel as if he was going deeper into the hot cunt that left cream patches around him. tears forming around your eyes because the bubbling in your stomach and tightening in your pussy, made you want to cry for your daddy, let out every moan that you were holding back from stubbornness. and it seemed as tho the universe was also against you.

ghost wrapping his hand around your delicate neck squeezing just a little - to prove his point. from then on, you could feel everything. his pierced nipples rubbing against your back, his cock hitting and poking at your g-spot, balls slapping against your ass - to the jerking of his dick inside of you. you could no longer hold it in. ghost stuffing your pretty pussy as you cried, begging him to allow you to cum - that you were in fact his silly subby girl and would do absolutely anything for him.

#ghost x black reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x black reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #cod x black reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

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backwzzds · 6 months

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can we talk about how konig would be someone who’s quiet when he gets jealous…then when y’all get home he js absolutely goes HAMMMM….

the way i got so excited to write this…it’s actually way longer than i intended but idgaf! part 2 soon 😏

NO BC YOU LITERALLY WOULDNT GET HOW HE’D BE SO QUIET LIKE ???

“papa, i don’t understand what i did wrong,” you’d frown at your man with an annoyed whine. könig, who was a whooping 6’10 would only give you a heavy grunt in response. you’d be on the way back to his car from the mall, dozens of your victoria’s secret and H&M bags held in his visibly large hand. the moment könig reached before you (with help of his tree-like long legs anyway), he opened the door for you, the balaclava on his face making his features ten times harder.

no matter how mad the big bear was at you—or more so, what you happened to get yourself involved in—he’d never disrespect you. anything other than sexually, at least. stepping on the custom made step for your smaller figure, you slide into the huge seat of his completely blacked out bmw suv, allowing him to shut the door behind you. you nearly jump at the visible shake of the car beneath your bottom.

you play with your curls as könig carefully sets your bags on the floor behind your seat. because his was set all the way back to accommodate for his long legs, your seat had the better amount of space for your things. when könig finally got back in the car, he immediately started it, causing the monsterous growl of his deleted muffler to come alive.

and he wouldn’t even break a sweat at you !!! you’re over here going over all your actions for the day, step by step, and all könig could think through his mind was what positions he was gonna force you in when you two got back home.

the sound of könig’s car matched the energy that was coursing through his veins. he know you didn’t do anything wrong; not intentionally at least. but the selfish ass part of him wanted nothing more than for your pretty little ass to sit in the passenger’s seat, overthinking on what the fuck you possibly could have done to rile him up this much.

the ride home is everlastingly silent as the small of your voice breaks the thick tension, “baby,” you don’t know how to further articulate your words. “i know you’re mad at me. i wanna fix it, but i can’t it you won’t talk to me. and you’ve been dead ass silent since we been in the mall.”

könig keeps his cool, though. he knew his silence was practically eating at you alive, shaming you with guilt for something you didn’t even intentionally mean to do. but with the way your pretty body sits in the black skims dress you’re in, accompanied by your black and white dunks—his eyes could practically frame your nipples right through the see through fabric, and he was sure that fucking doorman at victoria’s secret could have as well.

you keep talking. “was it the dude at VS? i swear, i made it very known that you were my man and—“ your words are endless blabber to him as the disgusting and pervasive thoughts cloud könig’s mind.

he looks so sexy in his balaclava, protecting his face from the harsh upcoming winter temperatures. he’s sported in an all black outfit, helplessly matching yours. anyone who saw you two together would automatically know that was your man. i mean duh, he walks around with his hand on your ass protectively 99% of the time.

when you get the sense that the brute isn’t listening to a fucking word you’re saying, you let out a frustrated sigh and turn your body away from him. but the sudden placement of a large hand on your knee takes you by surprise as you eye the man who’s ice blue eyes refuse to falter from the darkening road before you.

the moment könig pulls up in the driveway of your shared home, you can’t help but twiddle with the polish on your acrylics. anxiousness is bouncing off you, and könig could tell. you turn your head and open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off for the first time that night.

“go inside.” könig’s voice is very low, but you don’t miss the command in it. there’s no emotion behind the dark eyes of his balaclava. usually you could decipher exactly what and how he was feeling, but in the moment—

“kö—“ your boyfriend’s snow blue eyes harden at your talk back. with softer features, you whisper, “will you be inside?”

“soon. need to make a call first,” you watch him pull out a fresh cigar pack. “be ready for me when i get in.” you open your mouth to talk back again, but wire it shut when könig lovingly grabs your face. leaning in so the pink of his lips ghost over your full brown ones, he whispers, “now, mama. i won’t ask again. can you listen to that one thing for me?”

with a small gulp, you give him pretty doe eyes, feeling between your legs tingle at his masculinity radiating onto you. in the most confident voice you could muster up, you nod your pretty head at him. “yes daddy.”

könig gives you a nod of approval and runs his hand along the curve of your ass. “good girl. go on, liebling.”

you exit the huge car, already getting idea of what was to come when könig came back inside. with a heavy heart, you head upstairs to your room and slowly begin undressing, hoping that the slower you went, the more your punishment would be delayed.

your hopes were proven to be false the minute you were completely naked and turned around to see könig leaning against the threshold of the door, silently watching you.

you jump in fear at the sudden sight in front of you, but feel your heart beat calm down when könig strolled over to you. naturally, your head tilted backward as a way to get a full view of his face. his balaclava remained on, so you knew he was still upset about the events from earlier.

könig takes his large hand and rests it on your cheek, giving it a comforting rub. “you know i love you and respect you more than anything on this earth, right?” the brown of your skin instantly heat up at his words as you slowly nod your head at his sudden expression, unsure of where he was going with his words. könig’s lips can’t help but lightly turn upward into a small smile. you had no idea what was gonna come.

“good. because for today, libeling, i’m gonna fuck you like you mean absolutely nothing to me.”

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#oooh my coochie purring #könig x black reader #könig x reader #könig smut #könig cod #konig x black reader #konig x reader #konig smut #cod x black reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #cod könig #könig x plus size reader #könig x chubby reader #cod x plus size reader #cod x chubby reader

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