#mine: cod

[sinsofsinister]

:)

[bunnysnared]

streamer soap au 🧼🩷

[polyphemusboo]

I already wrote about pathetic simon who begs for your forgiveness, but what about really pathetic simon who's ready to get on his knees for you as soon as you get home??

he's been retired for a while, little beard he gets sometimes it's slowly becoming whiter, just a bit! and he just stays at home, really. he's a good little house husband, he loves it when the house is clean and you smile at him because he did a good job! he also made dinner so, really, don't even bother cuz he's got that covered for both of you!

so of course, after such a hard day and such a yummy dinner prepared by him, you let that ridiculous man get you on your back right there on the couch, all your clothes off in a minute, and he's oh sooo eager to bury himself between your legs, tongue and jaw working overtime, and hey! don't even dare touching yourself, because he'll bite those fingers off. it's his to enjoy now.

and even if you're sensitive, pushing on his head for him to give you a break, pretty little simon only grips your hips to keep you still and chokes on it, slurping it all the way because you taste so good on his tongue and he can't have enough.

and really, who can say no to those beautiful puppy eyes looking up at you from between your thighs? certainly not you

[skyrigel]

Possessive!Simon is one thing, but you ? You’re crazy about him. When it comes to him, you go all feral like a hissy cat pawing at their steak, he's your meat ! And Simon—so oblivious, so utterly devoted, he doesn’t even notice the hungry eyes trailing over him. All black gear, a half-masked, mysterious, broad shoulders and puffed out chest —of course birds and bats, all are salivating over him.

It boils your blood, ofcourse your man is hot, but eyes on him. Fuck no. You claim.

You tangle yourself around him, arms locking behind his neck, rising on your toes, dragging desperate, searing kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the edge of his mask. Grinding into him and ecstacy reveling because Simon gets all flushed under you.

None of these eyes can do that. Only you.

And then, without shame or hesitation, you yank the mask down, baring his lips just for you, claiming his starved mouth. The way he moans, all taken back your lips hot with slick and need for possession. Your fingers curl tight, nails scraping sharply on his nape as your body presses flush to his. Call it pathetic, call it insane, call it what you want but you will have him. A silent dare, a wordless mine.

Simon exhales rough and low, hands gripping your waist, grounding you—but not stopping you. Then, very effortlessly he lifts you, dragging you so close, his voice thick with heat as he mutters, "Always yours.”

Like he’s reminding you. Like he’s making damn sure you never forget who he belongs you.

Masterlist

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[cxnicalcherub]

going cuckoo bananas at the thought of being könig’s passenger princess <3

because we all know what a control freak he is, right? he eats the same 3 meals every day, he gets the same groceries every week, he gets the same brand of shampoo and conditioner he’s been using since he was sixteen, and he most certainly drives the two of you everywhere. and of course he always takes his beast of a car. his volkswagen atlas is one of the very few vehicles than can fit his staggering frame, and you don’t think your feet can reach the pedals even with the seat all of the way forward. years upon years of driving military vehicles has allowed him to be more relaxed behind the wheel. of course, he’s always careful. he has precious cargo, after all. but as soon as könig sits in the driver’s seat, it’s as though every car on the road listens to him. and even during the times traffic gets a little chaotic, könig is still as under control than ever. though, his language does get a little more colorful…

with one hand on your thigh and the other on the 9 o’lock position of the wheel, könig finds that being your personal chauffeur scratches the very same itch that carrying your grocery bags does. the itch to dote on you, to make sure you never lift a finger around him, to prove to you that he is worthy of being yours and that he’s more than just a governmental battering ram. he’s your driver, your pillow during the nights he’s home, your personal chef because he always fusses so much over you once he sees what food you survive on while he’s away, your handyman. hell, he even tried being your accountant when you were struggling with your taxes, but you had to put your foot down at some point.

the best part about könig being your driver, you think, is the fact that he has no qualms about pulling to the side of the road and pulling you into the backseat. it doesn’t matter where you are, what time it is, how many other vehicles are on the road—könig will find the nearest secluded place to fold you in half if you so much as look at him a certain way. it’s gotten to a point where the middle console consists of your favorite gum, his personal handgun, and three boxes of condoms. and if you wear a skirt? oh you bet your pretty ass his hand is gonna be up it. and, gods forbid, you forgo underwear as well? yeah his fingers are going inside of you one way or another. it’s just one of the many roadside services that come with having könig as your driver <3

[alchemyfreak321]

Skills include: Off-road "driving"

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Hear me out, HEAR ME OUT:

Ok so imagine Mer!Au right, what if Mer!Reader gets injured by some intruder and manages to scurry away and hide, but in the process of escaping leaves behind a cloud of blood and scales,,,how would mer!141 react to what could be interpreted as their untimely demise?

(Also, just wanna say, love your work its wonderful and keeps the serotonin pumping <<<3)

took liberties :)

73 / remora reader and shark!141

...

You dart into the reef to hide, tail flashing silver behind you. You're not taking chances again yet.

Soap pivots and locks his gaze on your hiding spot instinctively. Before he can chase after you, Ghost speaks up.

"Quit terrorizing the cleaner fish."

Soap snorts. His body relaxes, but two beats of his long tail carry him down to the reef anyway. He's never been able to resist his overactive prey drive. "Wasn't me." He circles, fingers brushing multicolor spines and blooms as if testing for weaknesses. "Thought we agreed no games before breakfast."

"I'm not playing," you mumble.

Soap finds your hiding spot. He braces his forearms against the reef above your head. His shadow engulfs you completely, cool and safe. "Aye? Your wee tail's still twitchin' like bait."

Embarrassment prickles across your skin. You look away from him and smoothe your palms down your tail, cleaning your scales nervously. "Never mind."

Soap tilts his head. He winds his arm around the sharp edges of broken fan coral to skim the curve of your tail with his knuckle. You settle his larger hand in yours and pick at the grit under his claws in silence. Soap's turns his hand palm-up so you can fuss with it properly. His knuckles are split from sparring with Ghost, and his forearm bears faint bite marks from that same rogue barracuda mer who picked a fight. "C'mon. Out you pop. I won't tell Price you're still jumpin' at shadows if you clean my teeth."

You startle. Price? "Is he mad?"

Soap smirks and flexes his fingers in your stilled hands. "Nah. Just grumpin' that some arsepiece’s scarin' off his favorite wee perch." His teeth flash in the dappled light. "Unless you'd rather he hear how you've been hidin' scraps from him again."

"I have not!"

Soap leans in. His broad shoulders completely block the light filtering through the coral. The faint scar on his cheek creases with his smirk. " Then why's there two cuttlebones and a clamshell picked clean under that brain coral?"

An irate twitch prickles down your spine and makes your dorsal fins stand up. He knows for a fact that you never ever steal food. You just like to collect the trinkets sometimes. You're saving those bones for something specific.

"That's what I thought. Come, come, out ye get."

You let him use your grip on his hand to pull you out of your hiding spot. He could never wedge his way inside, thanks to the sharp stone and broken coral around it. Your much smaller body glides through easily. The coral ghosts past your scales but leaves red nicks on his bicep. He doesn't seem to notice.

You curl into his chest and cling there as he settles onto the sand beside Ghost.

Ghost doesn’t lift his head from where it’s pillowed on his scarred forearms, but you feel his eyes. Sunlight catches the jagged edge of his fin, freshly torn from the same skirmish. His tail flicks once as you settle against Soap’s chest. “Quit dragging her out into the open. You'll just make her more skittish.”

Soap’s chest vibrates with a laugh that curls your fins. “Nah, she likes havin’ someone bigger to cling on. You’re just jealous it’s not you.”

Ghost glares at Soap. Then the weight of his gaze drops squarely onto you. The more you pretend to busy yourself with cleaning Soap's scratched arm, the longer it leaves Ghost to stare in silence at the puckered red lines down your back and remember how they billowed with fresh blood.

He's been quick to anger since that fight. You're sure he blames you for inciting the whole thing.

"Just as well the bastard took a chunk out of you," he mutters. "If that's how you learn to keep away from threats you can't suck up to."

You tense. Soap’s fingers tighten around your waist. "Leave off." He tilts his wrist to brush one of your knuckles with his thumb. It's a patient gesture from a beast like Soap toward a nervous bottom feeder like you. "Don't know how you've still got so much sand in your gills. It's been days since that fight. The rest of us might as well have forgotten it already."

Ghost doesn't answer. His gaze drags again over the half-healed claw marks striping almost to your shoulders. His stare lingers too long on the deepest one—the one that nearly snagged your spine when he'd been too slow to intercept the barracuda's strike. You've not cleaned them as well as you should. He has half a mind to yank you sideways from Soap’s grip and make you take care of yourself better. Stupid little good-for-nothing.

You wait in the crook of Soap's arm until he and Ghost settle into silence again. Then you shift yourself up to Soap's shoulder and begin busying yourself with cleaning his teeth. You keep your gaze trained down on your work.

Soap tips his head back and slackens his jaw to give you better access. His incisors glint in the filtered sunlight. The metallic tang of old blood clings to his molars. You work methodically, plucking shreds of kelp and bone fragments from between his teeth with your smaller fingers and ignoring the way his throat bobs when your thumb grazes the corner of his lips. You feel him begin to shift in playful arousal under you.

Ghost’s tail flicks again. Closer this time. “Fuck’s sake.”

Soap’s throat rumbles with a laugh before you can react. “Bet she’d fix you up just as nice if you stopped glowerin’ long enough to ask. I swear you’re just sore ‘cause nobody’s offered to clean your fangs or your cock since the last time Gaz and I—”

“Finish that sentence,” he growls, “and I’ll tear out your spine for a toothpick.”

"Clean him next, then," Soap tells you mildly. "Teeth and everything else. Good n' proper." He shoots Ghost a cheeky look. "She’ll fix ye up right if ye just ask, see? Then again, maybe ye’ve forgotten how to ask for anythin’ that isn’t a knife to the ribs.”

You nick your knuckle on Soap’s tooth. A bead of blood wells up, swirling crimson in the water between you. Soap’s nostrils flare—a shark catching scent. He laps the cut with a rough swipe of his tongue before you can pull away.

Ghost’s tail slams into the sand. The force of it sends a shockwave through the water that scatters a nearby school of damselfish. He’s between you and Soap before you can blink. One rough hand grabs your tail to pull you backward off Soap’s chest. His grip is mean, but the way he angles his body between you and Soap’s nipping teeth is protective. He clamps his other hand around Soap’s throat and shoves him flat against the sand. “Don’t play with her like food.” Then he turns on you. “You’re a liability.”

You nod and lower your gaze.

It only seems to piss him off more. “Stop flinching. You’re acting like bleeding chum in open water. Do you want another mer to take a bite out of you?”

Soap shoves Ghost away. "Pick on someone higher up the food chain, ya fuckin’ weapon.”

“No.” Ghost’s gaze snaps back to you. The predatory stillness in him is worse than Soap’s chaos. “She’ll keep being jumpy until she fixes herself up.”

Soap’s grin sharpens like he’s enjoying toying with Ghost—distracting him on your behalf. "Aye, there's his old soft spot. Makes a right pretty nurse, eh?”

Soap grins when Ghost lunges at him—but you scrambling to get clear of their tussle is what actually stops both short. Ghost freezes, watching you retreat toward the reef again with a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

Soap blinks. Then groans. “Christ, Simon. You’ll never get her to trust you if you keep snapping like a—”

Ghost silences him with a rough shove before swimming off toward the deeper trenches.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more mer au / more Soap / more Ghost / masterlist

[sir-heichou-smith]

Johnny thinks you and Ghost only want him for the sex.

He won't tell either of you he's ass over elbows for both his lieutenant and his girlfriend because he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

No, he can't tell you because he's the idiot who fell in love with the two people he couldn't even dream of having.

No one else has ever made him feel so cared for or special before you two though, and it confuses the hell out of him to the point where he can't help but think he has to leave after every session.

He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, meanwhile you and ghost think he doesn't want to be with you and only wants the sex, which is fine (you'd really prefer that he stayed for aftercare since it is real important to you, you know how Simon could get and it's not easy coming back up on your own from how far he puts you under) but you know something is wrong when he stumbles out of bed and limps to the door after throwing his pants on, mumbling something about having to get going for some thing or another.

One night Simon and Johnny stumble through the door after a few drinks, their hands wandering and teeth clinking out of desperation while you trail after with a hand on each of them.

Clothes are thrown and kisses are traded all the way to the bedroom. You hear Simon utter praises in the Scot's ear, "such a good boy f'me Johnny. Gonna show the mrs how well you can take it for me? Let's give 'er a show."

He shudders in the larger man's embrace, and you think you see something flicker in those baby blues as he kneels to undo Simon's zipper with his teeth.

But you're tipsy like they are and you can only focus on it so much until Simon pulls you in and groans into your mouth, one of his big hands on the back of your head and the other tangled in the mowhawk bobbing up and down on his cock.

That morning you wake up quietly, before either men, and you take the moment to enjoy having both of them in your bed.

Johnny wakes up quiet too, thinking himself a goddamn idiot for giving in to staying the night when he tried so hard not to.

He does his best to untangle his limbs from Simon's meaty arms and your thick, supple thighs. It's so warm and comfortable and everything he's ever wanted and he doesn't ever want to go, but he has to. It doesn't belong to him, you're not his and neither is Simon and he's just in the way.

God he's so fucking stupid for this, all he's doing is making himself hurt more than what he has to. He just can't take what he's given and accept that he'll never have what his heart truly, unrightfully wants.

While you think nothing of it as he slithers down the bed, (assuming he needs the bathroom and he'll come right back into your embrace) Johnny is pulling on his clothes from the night before as quickly and quietly as he can, tears building up under his lash line and threatening to spill over his cheeks. His breaths come in short staccato so he holds it until he can't, breathing out slowly through his nose and in through his mouth.

He needs to leave, can't be here any longer because he's already overstayed his welcome.

Hes not supposed to feel this way, he's just a toy for you and Simon to enhance your guys' relationship. Your beautiful, loving relationship that he's stupid for wanting to get in the middle of because he'd never expect either of you to return his feelings.

He thinks he's in the clear when he looks back and notices Simon's heavy chest still breathing evenly, taking one last glance at his magnificence before turning around for good because he can't put himself through this anymore, he's not enough and he just needs to accept that now before he can never recover from the heartbreak.

"Johnny?" He's hears your low voice come from the cocoon of warmth he craves with ever fiber of his being. Your precious face looks confused and, dare he say it, a little hurt. "Where are you going?"

His heart shatters. "I-I... I'm heading out now. I didnae mean to stay so long. Sorry 'bout that, bon. Nothin' to wake the big guy over."

Before he gets his shirt on he hears you shift. "Johnny wait-"

"No. No, I cannae do this anymore okay?" His chest heaves with what feels like the weight of the world, and the tears start to fall.

"I know my place, and I keep forgetting it when you hold me so close and tell me I'm your good boy. When you kiss me and it feels like nothin else matters anymore. I never wanted to come between you and Si but I overstayed my welcome now and I need to leave so that I can-"

"What are you on about?" Simon blinks his eyes and rolls onto his back, a thick arm behind his head and the other stretched out across the empty space where Johnny just was.

Blue eyes shut and his pretty face scrunches up in pain, but he turns around before he thinks either of you can see. His shirt is hastily pulled over his head and he trips over himself pulling on a shoe from the night before.

He doesn't get to leave after throwing on the second one. A big paw of a hand circles his bicep almost completely.

"Don't think you're goin anywhere now, mate. What's this about?" Tired honey eyes look up in confusion and concern, their owner now sitting up and the thick comforter slides down to meet his naked hips. Baby blues can't help but trace the movement.

Your feet touch the cold floor as you get out of bed and circle around to the Scot. "Johnny when did we ever say we don't want you too?"

His head whips up in confusion and he looks between the two of you. "But.. But you-"

"Baby, take those clothes off and get back in bed." Simon pulls lightly on the arm in his grasp and Johnny can't help but follow.

"From now on it's non-negotiable, you stay here with us and get your aftercare in before you even think of leaving. Not that we ever wanted you to."

Big hands pull at the hem of his shirt and it goes without thinking. You stand behind him and wrap your arms around his naked torso to unfasten his jeans.

"Such a pretty boy, Johnny. You're our pretty boy and we want you just as much. Please dont leave us again." Your words bring tears to his eyes again, these ones accompanied by a bright perfect smile and a small huff of disbelief.

The three of you fall back into bed, smothering Johnny in all the kisses and words of love he never even fathomed could be true.

Limbs and tongues tangled alike, and the morning was spent mostly in bed, the Scot wedged tightly between you and Simon. As if he'd still possibly think of leaving now.

[wintersongstress]

Simon "Ghost" Riley | Modern Warfare III (2023)

[sinsofsinister]

this hq monster took 13hrs to render so i am absolutely posting it in a billion places. it's what it says on the tin. all deaths and lengthy spaces removed so its one big smooth thing.

[bunnysnared]

aye johnny give him a minute he's rebooting!!!!

[gomzdrawfr]

I did a collab with Esuko-san awhile ago to make these two arts!!

would love it if you can show em some support too :)

here's Esuko's social links [twitter | blusky]

[skyrigel]

Price: You deserve a prize for being with me through everything.

Soap: Babe, you're my prize.

Ghost *watching this* : You deserve a prize for being with me through everything.

Y/n: Yeah no shit, you can be a bitch sometimes.

Masterlist

[koenigsdossier]

A Little Extra

Recently, you and König have been having makeout sessions that always ended in dry humping. There's an issue, though. You aren't as sensitive as König is.

+18 NSFW, dry humping, fingering, edging, AFAB reader

You didn't mind that König was sensitive. You found it insanely hot that he could get all whiny just from some friction on his crotch and your lips on his. He always left your pussy pounding with need and slick with arousal as he came in his pants, whining and moaning into your mouth as he held you against him. König being sensitive was far from the problem you were having.

You just felt bad that you haven't cum a single time from his hard-on grinding into you. It wasn't that it didn't feel good. It felt extremely good every time, but your body just needed more. You felt bad that he had to work harder to make you cum, even if König's fingers circling around your clit left you breathless with pleasure. He's never complained or shown any disappointment in having to work harder to make you cum, but you worried that he was just hiding it from you.

So, you decided that you would edge yourself until the next makeout session. You just wanted to give König at least one time where you came from just grinding on him. You just wanted for once to be as sensitive as König was.

It was hell edging yourself, though. You subconsciously tried to remember and replicate how König's hands moved over your body. You would roll your fingers over your clit, slipping down at times to circle your entrance and gather your slick just like König did. You teased your entrance with the tip of your fingers before pushing them knuckle-deep like he would do. You curled your fingers inside of you and abused your g-spot while your thumb rolled your clit in quick circles, trying to overwhelm yourself like König did. But everything you did felt nothing like how König would do it. Your fingers weren't as thick and long as König's. You could never reach the places he did. Your fingers were nowhere near as skilled as his are. The act of denying yourself an orgasm wasn't even the most frustrating part. It was not reaching the same amount of pleasure as König gave you. The next makeout session couldn't come fast enough.

You were successful in making yourself sensitive, however.

Your eyebrows pinched together as your eyes closed from just the feeling of being in König's lap. A small whine rumbled in your throat as you spread your legs wider, pushing yourself down onto him more. König gasped at your action, his hands holding onto your waist as he tried to ground himself. His hips bucked up instinctively at the feeling of your heat completely surrounding his lower half. He could feel how your panties were already sticking to you, and all you've done was exchange a couple of kisses. He was only semi-hard while you seemed close to the edge already.

One of his hands left your waist and held your head in place so he could get a good look at you. Your eyes fluttered open as you leaned into his hand, able to see the concern but also desire in his eyes.

"You alright? You seem different than usual.." Oh, his voice sounded so sweet as he gently voiced his concerns. It just made you need him even more, yours hips bucking into him to start a slow, gentle pace.

"I-I'm fine... Just move... Please..." You punctuated your words with a deep, slow grind, making sure König got the message. His hand on your waist tightened, his eyes fluttered as he responded with a hip buck.

König mumbled out a shaky 'okay' as his hand left your face and held onto your waist again. He copied your pace, slowly rolling his hips up and pushing his almost completely hard length against you. Your hands held onto König's shoulders, squeezing them tightly as pleasure flowed through your body. Each time your clothed cunt pressed against König's hard-on, you could feel how drenched you were. It felt like slick arousal just kept pouring out of you, your panties getting soaked with your juices. You knew König had to feel how messy you already were through the layers of clothing. You couldn't hide it even if you tried.

You swear you could feel König's hard-on catch on your clit every time you rolled, almost like there were no clothes between you two. The feeling made your hips lock up for a second, and your thighs tense. It didn't take long for you to speed up, having worked yourself up far too well. You could feel your mind going blank as need consumed your body more than it already has.

You let out a high whine when König's hands moved to your hips, helping you to push yourself faster and deeper onto him. He had you clenching around nothing each time his hard-on pushed into you. It felt like if you tried hard enough, his fat cock could end up penetrating you through your clothes. The thought itself had you whining and stuffing your face in König's neck, your hands now digging into his shoulders.

You already felt so close to the edge, just mindlessly panting and whining into König's neck. Your body felt like it was on fire, a thin layer of sweat forming and soaking into your clothes. Your breath hitting König's neck made his cock throb horribly. He's never seen you this needy or desperate before. The whole thing was making his head swirl and hips respond just as desperately as yours. He would be worried about his grip bruising you if it wasn't for how pretty you sounded and how obviously soaked you were.

"C-Close... I'm close. Please don't stop... I need this so badly, please..." Your lips brushed against König's neck as you pleaded with him, causing him to lean his head back slightly.

"I won't stop... I got you... You can cum... Just focus on me..." König didn't even the brain power to think about how unusual it was that you were about cum. All he knew was that your body felt good against his, and you were pleading with him in such a whiny voice. It all made König rut into you faster, desperate to make you fall apart.

Your hips were moving sloppily as your orgasm quickly approached. The only thing keeping you steady was König's hands on your hips, helping to guide you down as you pathetically humped his lap. It was all you could do. You were so sensitive from edging yourself and not getting enough pleasure that all you could do was follow your instincts. Your mind was completely on autopilot, completely blank as your pussy throbbed and clenched against König.

"K-König! I'm gonna cum! F-Fuckk..!" You warned him, your hands gripping his shoulders so tight that his shirt felt like it was going to rip. You bit down on his neck, your mouth just needing something to do as your body tensed up. Even as you drowned in pleasure, you could hear the high, whiny moan König let out as he felt your teeth sink into his skin. You made his hips stutter, his hands holding you down on his straining bulge as your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, and your teeth bruised König's skin. You weakly licked your tongue against him as your pants and moans were muffled. He didn't need to move his hips as your orgasm caused you to rut desperately against him. Your clit throbbed as it caught on König's cock continuously, making you feel overstimulated but you didn't care. It felt good, and you needed this after denying yourself release for too long.

"S-Scheiße..!" You didn’t even realize König's orgasm had hit him, his words just turning into background noise as your ears seemed to ring. You could only register that his hips were flushed against yours as he grinded his cock against you, making a mess in his pants as he desperately tried to pull everything out of him. You could feel your cum completely soak your panties and even create a little damp spot on your pants. You were sure König could feel it too, the layers of clothing doing nothing as you were both drunk off your orgasms.

You released König's neck but still kept your lips on him, planting soft kisses against him with the occasional nibble. Your thighs tensed and relaxed as aftershock ran through you. Your hips would twitch as your body made sure you really got everything out. König laid limply beneath you, running his hands up and down your sides gently as he came down from his high. You placed one last kiss to König's neck before resting your head against König's shoulder, your hands fiddling with his shirt now. The satisfaction of your release faded, being replaced with the need for more. But you didn't want to bother König.

"Do I still get to touch you? Or not since you already came?"

Oh.

[cxnicalcherub]

könig squishing your cheeks as you’re sobbing “it hurts, könig! s’too much!” him shushing you as he sinks into you inch by inch, just enough of his 260lbs + weight to keep you pinned “shh, shh liebling, it will feel good soon, i promise, just take it for me, ya?”

or better yet, könig getting off on the fact that he’s hurting you, pushing your head back down in the mattress and groaning “oh fuck, liebling, so tight. does it hurt, hm?” and right when you sob out a “yes, yes it hurts!” he makes sure you feel every single inch stretch you out “good, keep crying. it’s making me harder”