A/N: my ask box is currently closed for the moment!! And just in case you don’t want to remember what the emojis are they will be separated by category, smut, fluff, dddne and etc.
Pairings: Off the Wall!Michael Jackson / Girlfriend (first time)
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, slight coercion through seduction, strong language, NSFW.
A/N: Okok this is based off the interview of Michael talking about his experience with his first gf😭
The phone call came just after dinner. Michael’s voice was soft and hesitant on the other end, the way it always was when she called unexpectedly. She told him she missed him, that the house felt too quiet without him around. It was a small lie, but an effective one. He could never say no to her.
“I’ll be there soon,” he promised, his tone already laced with that familiar nervousness.
When he arrived at her door wearing a simple red button-up and black slacks, his curls neatly framed his face. His eyes darted around as she welcomed him inside, hands fidgeting at his sides. She smiled warmly and pulled him into a gentle hug, feeling the way his body tensed before slowly relaxing against her.
They settled on the couch at first, watching a movie neither of them paid much attention to. She was ovulating hard tonight, her body felt warm and restless, a deep ache pulsing between her thighs every time she looked at him. Her silk nightgown clung to her curves, the thin fabric doing little to hide how her nipples had tightened. But she kept her hunger carefully hidden behind sweet smiles and soft touches.
As the night deepened, she grew bolder. Her hand rested on his thigh, fingers tracing light circles. Michael swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing.
“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
“Better now that you’re here,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Her lips lingered. “Come with me to my room? It’s more comfortable.”
He hesitated, eyes wide, but nodded. She took his hand and led him down the hallway. Once inside, she closed the door and clicked off the main light. The fairy lights strung behind her full-length mirror flickered on, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Shadows danced gently across the walls.
Michael stood awkwardly near the bed, looking around the room as if searching for something safe to focus on. His heart hammered visibly in his chest. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his breathing.
She crawled onto the bed first, moving slowly until she knelt between his legs after guiding him to sit on the edge. The mattress dipped under their weight. Michael’s hands gripped the covers, knuckles pale.
When she reached up to touch the buttons of his shirt, he flinched hard. His hands flew up to cover his face, shoulders curling inward.
She let out a soft, affectionate laugh. “Michael… are you scared?” Her voice was gentle. “If you’re not ready, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything.”
Part of her desperately hoped he wouldn’t want to stop. Her panties were already soaked through, the silk of her nightgown damp against her skin. She ached for him.
He peeked through his fingers, eyes glossy and uncertain in the fairy light. “I… I’ve never… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted, voice trembling. “But I don’t want to stop. Not if you want this too.”
She smiled reassuringly and kissed his knuckles until he lowered his hands. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, revealing smooth skin and a lean chest. Her fingers trailed down, brushing over his stomach. He shivered.
She worked his belt open next, then his slacks, sliding them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, already hard, the tip glistening. Michael was perfectly proportioned, his balls tight and round beneath the shaft. He looked mortified and aroused at the same time.
She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Michael gasped, hips twitching.
“Relax,” she whispered. “Just feel it.”
Her pace was gentle at first, learning what made his breath hitch. Then she leaned down, pressing soft kitty licks to the sensitive head. Michael moaned quietly, one hand hovering uncertainly before resting lightly on her shoulder. She took him into her mouth, sucking gently while her hand stroked what she couldn’t fit. The wet sounds filled the quiet room, mixing with his shaky breaths.
She brought him close, oh so dangerously close, feeling him throb against her tongue, but pulled back before he could tip over the edge. Michael whimpered at the loss.
She stood briefly, slipping her nightgown over her head and letting it pool on the floor. Her nipples tighten from the cold and his eyes, she pushed him further onto the bed softly, not wanting to rush or hurt him. “I need you inside me, Michael.”
He leaned back against the headboard, eyes wide as she straddled him. She was dripping wet, slick coating her thighs. She rubbed his tip against her folds, teasing both of them until his tip latched at her entrance
Michael’s head fell back, a broken moan escaping his lips as her tight heat enveloped him. “Oh… oh god…”
She rode him carefully at first, whispering against his ear. “You make me so wet… I’ve been thinking about this all day. How good you’d feel stretching me. How much I wanted your cock.”
Her words made him twitch inside her. As pleasure built, she lost herself in it, moaning louder with every roll of her hips. The fairy lights painted their bodies in warm hues, his skin glowing, her breasts bouncing softly with each movement.
Eventually Michael slid down fully onto his back, no longer propped against the headboard. His hands found her thighs, squeezing. His heels dug into the mattress as instinct took over. He thrust up into her, meeting her movements desperately even though he was already buried to the hilt.
“I’m— I’m gonna—” His voice cracked.
He came hard, squeezing her thighs tight enough to leave marks. His body tensed, heels pressing deep into the mate as he pulsed inside her, filling her with warm spurts. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers. She cried out, clenching around him, riding through the waves until the high began to fade.
Michael grew oversensitive quickly. As she continued moving, he lifted her hips with shaky hands. His softening cock slipped out of her with a wet pop. She stayed hovering over his lap, using the headboard for support.
Together they watched in the gentle light as his cum dripped from her swollen folds. Thick white drops fell onto the bedcovers below and onto his balls. Michael stared, breathing heavily, a mix of awe and embarrassment on his face.
She leaned down and kissed him softly, brushing damp curls from his forehead. “You did so good,” she murmured.
He smiled shyly, still catching his breath. “I… I can’t believe that just happened.” His voice was small, almost disbelieving. “With you.”
They stayed like that for a long while, tangled in the afterglow under the fairy lights, hearts still racing. For Michael, it was the beginning of something new, terrifying and wonderful all at once. For her, it was the satisfaction of finally having him in every way she’d craved.
The room grew quiet again, save for their slowing breaths and the faint hum of the night outside. Michael’s hand rested tentatively on her back, tracing small circles as if still unsure if he was allowed. She nuzzled closer, content to let him process everything at his own pace. The nervousness that had defined him earlier lingered in the way he avoided direct eye contact, but there was a new softness in his expression now, trust, mixed with lingering wonder.
She could feel the evidence of their shared pleasure still leaking slowly from her, warm and sticky against his skin. Michael noticed too, his cheeks darkening again, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a tiny, shy laugh.
“That… that felt incredible,” he confessed in a whisper. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “We have all the time in the world to explore more… whenever you’re ready.”
Michael nodded, finally meeting her eyes fully in the golden glow. The fear had faded into something warmer, more open. For tonight, that was more than enough.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, outdoor sex, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, PIV intercourse, multiple positions, light embarrassment kink, subby Michael, consensual adult intimacy. 18+ only.
⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧
The summer evening air in the backyard was warm and heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass. Michael had suggested Twister on a whim after dinner, his eyes sparkling with that playful mischief that always made her heart skip. He was in a relaxed mood tonight, he wore a simple white t-shirt tucked into loose black pants, curls loose around his face, barefoot on the cool lawn. The spinner lay between you as you both laughed through increasingly ridiculous poses.
“Left hand red!” you called out, twisting to reach the circle.
Michael stretched over you, his long limbs making it look almost graceful until his right foot slipped on a blue spot. You both wobbled, laughter bubbling up, and then gravity took over. In one tangled heap, you ended up with your back arched, one leg hooked over his hip, while Michael was half under you, his chest pressed to your side and his face dangerously close to your neck.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The plastic mat crinkled beneath you. Then you felt it, his cock, already half-hard and thickening fast against your thigh. Michael’s breath hitched. He tried to ignore it, shifting slightly as if that would make the obvious bulge disappear, but the friction only made him swell more. Heat flooded his cheeks.
You accidentally pressed closer while trying to untangle, and the full length of his erection rubbed firmly against your inner thigh. Michael froze.
“Shit—” he whispered, voice strained. He sat back on his heels quickly, one hand flying down to cover the prominent outline tenting his pants. “Are you—“ you were cut off by Michael. His big brown eyes were wide with embarrassment, lashes fluttering as he looked anywhere but directly at you. “Don’t—don’t worry about it. It’ll go away on its own. Just… give me a second.”
But it didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse. You tried to look away, cheeks burning, but your gaze kept drifting back to where his long fingers pressed over himself. Every time you glanced, his cock twitched visibly under his palm. Michael squeezed lightly, biting his lower lip.
“Quit looking…” he laughed, embarrassed, the sound breathy and shy. He squeezed again when you glanced away,“You’re making it harder.”
“You’re the one who can’t control it,” you teased back, thighs squeezing together, still flustered but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Michael’s cheeks darkened further. “Well, you’re the one pressed up against me like that on the Twister mat! What did you expect?” He laughed again, but it cracked into a soft whimper when you shifted closer on your knees.
The bickering lasted only a minute, light, charged words that did nothing to cool the air between you. Then you crawled forward, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Do you… want help?”
Michael’s eyes widened, glazed over with want. He let out a breathless little laugh, muttering, “I can’t let you do that…” But his voice was husky, and those big brown eyes locked onto yours with unmistakable hunger.
Both of you leaned in slowly, giving one another time to back out. Finally—your lips touched, he tasted of your strawberry chapstick and faint dinner from earlier. you tugged his waistband down just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, long and flushed, already leaking at the tip. Michael whimpered softly as you wrapped your hand around the base. You stroked what didn’t fit in your mouth while your lips closed around the head, tongue swirling gently. One of your hands slipped between your own plush thighs, rubbing slow circles over your clit through your underwear as you sucked him deeper.
“Fuck… oh god,” Michael moaned, hips twitching. He kept one hand gentle in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as his head fell back, his fingers tightening every time you took him deeper. His other hand braced on the soft grass. He was a whimpering mess already, biting his lip hard enough to leave marks.
You took him further, hollowing your cheeks, your own fingers growing slick as you touched yourself. Michael’s breath came in short gasps, his cock twitching on your tongue every time you moaned around him.
After a few minutes, he gently pulled you off with a shaky hand. “Your turn,” he whispered, voice wrecked. He laid you back on the soft grass beside the Twister mat, the evening sky turning deep indigo above you. His hands were reverent as he pushed your dress up until it pooled around your hips. Your underwear disappeared quickly, he tucked them into his back pocket with a shy grin before settling between your spread legs.
A small laugh escaped past your lips as she covered your face with your hands.
Michael’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, glistening with arousal. “You look like a flower,” he murmured, voice full of wonder. He parted your pussy lips gently with his thumbs, leaning in to drag his tongue slowly from your entrance to your clit. You gasped, back arching.
You tried to close your thighs around his head but his hands kept them firm open.
He was thorough and eager, licking and sucking with soft, needy sounds of his own. His tongue circled your clit before dipping inside you, then back up again. When your moans grew high-pitched and loud, he lifted his head just enough to whisper, “Shh… lower your voice a little, baby. Even out here…” But his eyes were sparkling with pride as he dove back in, two long fingers sliding into you and curling just right.
You came hard on his tongue, thighs trembling around his head. Michael kept going through every pulse, whimpering into your pussy like tasting you was the best thing he’d ever experienced.
When you finally caught your breath, he crawled up your body, face burying immediately into the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, sex, sweat, and that faint trace of your perfume he always secretly sprayed on himself when he snuck gum from your purse. The scent made him groan softly.
You reached down and guided his cock to your entrance. Michael whimpered again as he pushed in slowly, stretching you open. He was gentle and sweet even now, hips rolling in shallow thrusts at first while he hid his flushed face against your skin.
“Feels so good…” he mumbled, voice muffled. His teeth grazed your neck lightly as he started moving deeper. One hand freed your breasts from the top of your dress, and the biggest grin broke across his face when they spilled out. He bit his lip hard, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he leaned down to kiss and suck at them.
“Roll over,” you said after a while, straddling him. Michael’s hands flew to your hips, but he let you set the pace, whimpering every time you sank down fully. “Yes… just like that,” he breathed, dirty talk slipping out between moans. His eyes focused on where yall are connected, your clit rubbing against him. “You’re so wet for me… taking me so deep…”
The grass was cool beneath his back as you rode him, his curls splayed out. He kept one arm wrapped around your waist, face pressed to your chest now, licking and sucking at your nipples while his other hand squeezed your ass.
You switched again, he bent you over on your hands and knees, entering you from behind with a shaky thrust. Michael’s chest pressed to your back, his breath hot against your ear. He was whimpering constantly now, hips snapping faster but still needy rather than dominant. “Gonna… gonna cum,” he warned, voice breaking.
You reached between your thighs again, manicured fingers Finn’s and rubbing your clit, and that pushed you both over. Michael came first with a choked moan, pulling you agaisnt him and burying himself deep as he filled you. The feeling sent you spiraling right after, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through you.
You both collapsed onto the grass, tangled together again but this time sated and laughing breathlessly. Michael nuzzled into your neck once more, pressing soft kisses there while his hand lazily stroked your side. The backyard was quiet except for your mingled breathing and the distant chirp of crickets.
“Best game of Twister ever,” he whispered with a shy, satisfied grin, cheeks still flushed.
You laughed before ending it with a sleepy sigh,
“so much for being a gentleman.”
⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧
My head hurts from thinking about what to write. I’ve had writers block and fell into a void of nothingness like I can’t think at all. And I’ve been bed rotting for the past few months.
Warnings: {{~18+ NSFW~}} Pervert(?)!Soap, explicit sexting, masturbation (m), possessiveness, obsessive behavior, slightly dubcon(if you squint), no physical description of the reader, no use of names or pronouns for reader
A/N: DRAFT and if I’m correct this was inspired by a creator here who does those short stories/ideas but I can’t find their user so if you find it PLEASE TAG THEM🙏
• • • •
It started with a message
“Oi. Thinkin’ about you again. Can’t fuckin’ focus.”
It was nearly 1AM. And there was no reason he should’ve been texting, no reason he should be thinking about anything but sleep after a mission that rough. But that wasn’t how he worked. Not when it came to you.
Especially not when his fingers were already curled around his cock under the sheets, and his phone was slippery with sweat and want.
The photo came before you could respond. A grainy shot lit with the low amber lamp on his nightstand. The kind of picture that looked casual but wasn’t. That was Johnny all over he pretended to be careless, to stumble into temptation, but everything was carefully angled. Calculated.
Like the way his pants were unzipped just low enough to show the deep V of his hips, the dark hair below his navel spreading thick and untamed. No underwear in sight. Just a hint of what was beneath. A tease.
“Missed this, didn’t ya? Tell me ya missed it.”
The second photo came after your typing bubble disappeared and reappeared a few times.
This one was lower.
Like he wanted to reward you for even thinking about replying.
The waistband of his pants sat almost mid-thigh now, and the full patch of hair around his cock was visible. Messy and thick and just slightly damp from sweat. Just beneath the curls, there it was barely there but unmistakable. The base of his shaft, nestled and poking through just enough to make your breath hitch. Thick. Veiny. Heavy-looking.
And he fucking knew it.
“You like that? Look how hard I get jus’ thinkin’ about you.”
“Not even touchin’ myself yet, swear.”
Liar.
He was always lying when it came to how often he thought about you, how often his hand wrapped around his cock to thoughts of you curled up on his couch, sitting in his lap, walking around his flat like you owned it. His favorite game was pretending to be innocent until he was balls deep in guilt and then pretending the guilt made it worse.
That second photo? It wasn’t just for you. It was for him, too. He’d been staring at it for five minutes since sending it, thumb hovering over his own bulge like he could feel your reaction.
He imagined your legs pressing together. Your breath catching. Maybe you were already wet. Maybe you were whispering his name without realizing it.
He hoped you were touching yourself. He wanted you to be. Needed it.
His grip tightened.
He couldn’t help himself.
Johnny’s bedroom was hot, musky with his sweat and precome, but he didn’t move to open a window. His sheets were already bunched around his waist, boxers shoved down low, exposing just the head now as he lazily pumped his cock. Precum beading, smearing against his fingers.
His phone buzzed.
“fuck.”
“i missed it. i miss you.”
God, the little i like you were shy to say it. Like you were already embarrassed for needing him.
It made his balls tighten.
He spat into his palm and moved faster.
He loved doing this. Loved knowing he could send you a few photos and have you soaked and squirming, giving in without even being touched.
But what he loved more was how much it made you crave him.
You’d never asked for the photos. Not at first.
But he knew you liked them. You saved them. Kept them tucked in a hidden folder.
He’d seen it once.
Accidentally, of course.
Or at least that’s what he said when he snooped through your phone while you were asleep on his chest.
All those photos of him, saved. Cherished. Cropped just right.
It made him feel needed. Possessed. Owned. In the best way.
So he sent more.
“Y’think of this when you touch yourself?”
“Bet you rub that needy lil’ clit and pretend I’m between your thighs.”
Another picture. This one, his hand wrapped around the base now. A tight grip, fingers straining around the girth. His thumb pushed against the underside, right where it throbbed the most. Veins bulging. His thighs tensed, flushed red with arousal.
He snapped the pic before he started rutting into his fist.
“Wish you were here, sweetheart. I’d make you sit on my face til you couldn’t even remember your name.”
“Wouldn’t stop until you’re fuckin’ cryin’ for it.”
He thought about how you’d looked the last time you were on his bed, his shirt riding up your thighs, teeth tugging your bottom lip raw, shy but soaked and he came.
With a stifled groan, cock twitching, cum spilled over his hand and abs, thick and hot. Some of it streaked down over the curls at his base, catching in the hair he knew you stared at a little too long.
His head fell back against the pillows, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
Phone buzzed again.
“i wanna see it. please. i wanna see you come.”
He smiled, fucked out and satisfied. His thumb smeared some of the mess across his skin before snapping one more picture this one messier. Cum glistening in the hair, his cock twitching still, heavy and softening just slightly.
“Too late, sweetheart. But I’ll let you make it up to me.”
“Next time… you sit on my lap, yeah? No panties. Jus’ you, ridin’ me while I hold the camera.”
“Give ya somethin’ real good to save.”
He rolled onto his side, lazily cleaning himself up, and opened the photos he’d sent you again.
He couldn’t stop looking at that second one. The one where you could just barely see the base of his cock, thick and promising, buried in that dark, unruly patch of hair.
The one he knew you were staring at right now, thighs probably squeezed shut, wishing it was in your mouth. Or in your hand. Or in your cunt.
He stared at the photo and smiled again.
You always told him not to send stuff like that when you were busy. When you were out. When you had company.
Summary: Daryl couldn’t help but come to the thought of your tits as she you ran around tagging Carl and Beth in that thin tank top with no bra on.
Warning: masturbation, NSFW, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties and Daryl is in his mid thirties), Not proofread.
⸻
He shouldn’t be thinking about her.
He knew that.
Knew it the second his hand slid down, palming himself through denim that was already damn near painful from how hard he was. He’d been holding back all day, trying to push her out of his head, those flushed cheeks, that little giggle, the way her tits bounced with every step she took across that field.
But she was in everything now.
In the heat of the air. The sweat on his skin. The smell of grass and sun and her damn shampoo that lingered on his flannel from when she bumped into him yesterday.
It was all her.
And when her chest hit his arm today when he felt her nipples through that soaked tank top something inside him snapped.
Now here he was, on his back in the shadows of his tent, eyes squeezed shut, belt already undone and jeans shoved just far enough down.
He wrapped a hand around his cock hard, heavy, throbbing and let out a low groan as he finally gave in.
He imagined her just like she was earlier: flushed, breathless, laughing. That soft smile on her lips as she clung to him like she wanted to. And those tits…God, those tits pressed up against his bare chest, nipples dragging across his skin while she rocked on top of him, innocent but needy, grinding down like she couldn’t help herself.
“Fuck,” Daryl muttered under his breath, stroking slow, tight, his hips twitching upward.
In his mind, she was straddling his lap in the tall grass behind the barn, tank top pushed up over her chest, her bare skin bouncing just for him while she gasped his name.
She’d whimper. Bite her lip. Try to muffle those sweet little sounds.
And he’d love it.
He’d whisper dirty things in her ear, tell her how tight she was, how pretty she looked stuffed full of him, how long he’d been wanting to ruin her in the quietest, filthiest way possible.
His pace picked up, rougher now, breath ragged. Her name slipped past his lips, low and shaky.
He imagined her saying his name for once, all breathy and wet, begging him not to stop.
The thought alone made his stomach tighten.
“Shit—”
He came hard, hot and fast, hips bucking off the cot as he spilled over his hand. His throat clenched with a groan, jaw locked tight as the last waves hit.
For a moment, he just lay there, panting, sweat cooling on his chest. The tent was dark, quiet, and heavy with the smell of sex and summer heat.
Guilt crept in slow. But not enough to stop the need still churning in his gut.
He’d touched himself to her before.
But this time felt different.
This time, it wasn’t just a fantasy.
This time… he knew what she felt like against him.
can I be added to the tag list for ghost and also Konig fics pls? Any of them, I love those characters and your writing
Sweet Corruption
Pairing: könig x fem!reader
Word Count: ~1,640
Warnings: Dark content, pervert!König, noncon/dubcon themes, DD:DNE, voyeurism, somnophilia, food kink, corruption, manipulation, obsessive behavior, bodily fluids in food, König touching himself while she sleeps, eventual escalation. Read at your own discretion.
A/N: I honestly don’t know if I should put DDDNE or Lemon in warnings.
⸻
The apartment smelled faintly of sugar and butter, a cloying sweetness that clung to the air long after König set the white paper box on the kitchen counter. He’d passed by the bakery on his way home, and as always, strawberry pastries caught his eye. One of them he’d chosen with care, saving for himself. The rest? For her.
She didn’t know how much thought went into these simple gestures. She didn’t know that every time she bit into the flaky crust, every time she hummed at the sweetness of the fruit, she was swallowing something else, something intimate, something that bound her to him in ways she’d never suspect. His special ingredient, slipped in with quiet devotion, mixed with the cream until it was indistinguishable.
When she showed up that evening, smile wide, König’s chest swelled with warmth. She always came. No matter how many sleepovers they’d had, no matter how strange it might have seemed for others, she still curled up in his bed without question, still called him her best friend like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He cooked for her, as he often did. A dish from home, hearty and spiced. She leaned over the counter, hair falling forward, laughing at his attempts to translate ingredients into clumsy English. He only half-listened, too focused on the sway of her chest beneath that thin shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra again. She rarely did around him.
That shirt was loose, but not loose enough. König turned the thermostat down another notch when she wasn’t looking. The air grew colder, and within minutes, his patience was rewarded. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, a perfect outline, taunting him. His hands tightened around the wooden spoon until his knuckles ached.
“Cold in here, hm?” she asked lightly, rubbing her arms.
König feigned ignorance. “Ah, is it? Maybe I am used to it.” His accent was thick, words stumbling. He prayed she didn’t notice how his eyes lingered far too long on her chest
They ate together, as they always did, then settled in front of the TV. She curled up against him, warm and soft, her head resting on his arm. Every breath she took sent heat crawling beneath his skin. She trusted him so much. Too much.
Later, when they lay in his bed, she fell asleep easily, as if sharing space with a man like him were safe. König lay awake beside her, mask discarded, heart thundering in his chest. He turned his head to look at her lashes brushing her cheeks, lips parted in gentle breaths.
His hand slipped beneath the blanket, curling around his cock. He moved slowly, afraid of waking her, but unable to resist. Just inches away, she shifted in her sleep, the hem of her shirt riding up. Pale skin peeked through the shadows, tempting him until his vision blurred.
He stroked himself, quiet as possible, but the bed still shifted with his movements. His breath came hard through clenched teeth, hot against the pillow. He imagined pressing himself against her thighs, spilling between them, soaking her in his need. He imagined sliding into her warmth while she whimpered his name in her sleep.
His hips jerked forward, cock twitching in his hand, and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from groaning. Warmth spilled between his fingers, coating his hand, staining the sheets he’d just washed. He stayed still until his pulse stopped hammering, then crept out of bed to clean himself up, trembling with both shame and satisfaction.
But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
When he returned, she shifted again, rolling onto her back, shirt riding higher. König’s throat went dry. Her nipples stood firm in the chilled air, rising with each slow breath. He stared, transfixed. He could touch her now. Just a brush. She’d never know.
His hand hovered, trembling. Then contact. A single fingertip grazed over one hardened peak through the thin cotton. She shivered but didn’t wake. Encouraged, he pressed his palm down, cupping her breast, squeezing gently. Heat surged through him as his cock twitched again, already half-hard.
“Scheiße…” he whispered into the dark.
She sighed, rolling toward him, pressing closer, and that tiny, innocent gesture shattered what was left of his restraint.
König leaned down, burying his face against her neck, breathing her in. His free hand slid beneath her shirt, skin to skin. She was so warm, so soft. He palmed her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it pebbled tighter. She stirred, mumbling something incoherent, but didn’t wake.
Every nerve in his body screamed to stop. But the hunger was louder.
He tugged her shirt higher, exposing her chest fully to the cold air and his hungry gaze. The sight alone nearly undid him, she was beautiful, vulnerable, his. He leaned down, mouth closing around one nipple, tongue flicking as he sucked greedily. The taste of her skin made him dizzy.
She shifted again, a soft whine escaping her lips. König froze, pulling back just enough to watch her face. Still asleep. Still oblivious. Relief and lust tangled into a knot in his stomach.
His hand drifted lower, sliding over her stomach, pausing at the waistband of her shorts. He swallowed hard, sweat beading at his temple. Just one touch. Just to know.
He slipped his hand inside, fingers brushing through heat and dampness. She gasped softly in her sleep, hips twitching. König nearly came undone. His cock throbbed painfully, pre leaking onto the sheets, but he ignored it. He focused on her instead, slipping a finger between her folds, teasing her clit in slow circles.
She whimpered again, thighs shifting, but her eyes stayed closed. König pressed his face to her shoulder, muffling a groan as his finger sank inside her warmth. She clenched instinctively, sucking him in, and his vision went white.
“Gott…” he breathed, voice breaking.
He pumped slowly, savoring the feel of her around him, memorizing the way her body responded even in sleep. She grew wetter with each careful thrust, her hips moving just slightly against his hand. She was giving herself to him without knowing, and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever experienced.
When her breathing grew uneven, König pulled back, withdrawing his hand. He didn’t want her waking yet not when he wasn’t ready to share this secret. Not when he still had plans.
He tugged the blanket back over her, wiping his hand hastily on the sheets before slipping out of bed again. In the kitchen, the box of pastries still sat on the counter. He opened it with shaking fingers, staring down at the strawberry tart he’d saved for her.
His cock throbbed at the thought. He gripped it again, stroking hard, standing over the pastry until he spilled across the cream filling. White streaks blended with the custard, warm and obscene. His breath came fast, ragged, but his hands were steady as he tucked the tart back into its box.
Tomorrow morning, when she smiled sleepily and took a bite, she’d have no idea. Just as she never knew what he did beside her in the dark, or how he touched her when she couldn’t protest.
She thought he was her best friend. She thought he was harmless.
A/N: okay okay, so I was debating which one to upload cuz I have like another one I made but I feel like you guys would like this one??? But either way if this gets at least 50 notes then I’ll post the other one
König hadn’t looked her in the eyes in over a week.
Not because he didn’t want to but because every time he did, his thoughts spiraled. His gaze would lock onto her chest, even if it was covered in a standard-issue tee or hidden behind the plate of her vest. His mind would conjure that image faster than his training could suppress it:
Her shirt pushed up, bunched awkwardly under her chin. Her hand wrapped under the heavy swell of one breast, thumb stroking gently toward the darkened, swollen nipple as she hissed softly through her teeth. Her other hand clutched a portable pump, trembling a little from either fatigue or sensitivity.
He hadn’t meant to see it.
Hadn’t expected her to be in the corner of the barracks, behind the line of storage crates, expression pinched with discomfort as milk beaded over her skin.
She hadn’t seen him. Not at first.
He’d frozen in place, barely breathing, heart pounding loud in his ears. He should’ve turned around. Should’ve announced himself. Should’ve done something.
But all he could do was stare.
All he could think was how full she must be.
And from that day forward, König hadn’t been able to see her the same.
She was part of KORTAC.
Strong, sharp. Quiet, like him.
They’d spoken a few times short exchanges during debriefings, polite nods in the cafeteria. Nothing deep. Nothing more than passing words.
But now, everything had changed.
Not for her. Not from what he could tell. She still treated him the same neutral, professional, soft-spoken.
But König?
He couldn’t look at her without getting hard.
Without imagining how heavy her chest must feel under her gear, how warm her milk would taste on his tongue. How she’d sound with his head buried between her breasts, hips twitching as he painted her insides white.
He started avoiding her altogether.
Which only made it worse.
The fleshlight wasn’t standard-issue.
He’d ordered it weeks ago before he’d seen her, before he’d lost all sense of discipline. It had sat unopened in his trunk, tucked between boxes of rations and ammo like it was something shameful.
But now?
Now he used it every night.
Not gently. Not quietly.
Not without thinking about her.
It started again just after midnight.
Everyone else was asleep. The lights were dimmed, the barracks quiet except for the occasional creak of bunk beds and distant hum of electronics.
König laid flat on his cot, sheets pushed down, boxers halfway down his thighs. The slick, soft toy clenched around him with each slow thrust of his hips.
He grunted under his breath, teeth clenched. One arm thrown over his eyes, the other working the toy with practiced rhythm.
In his mind it was her.
Not the version of her from the gun range or briefings.
But that version.
The flushed one. The aching one.
The one who pressed her breasts together as she tried to relieve the pressure face twisted in discomfort, her nipples hard and dripping, so desperate to be emptied.
He imagined her crawling onto his lap, whispering that she was too full. That she needed him. That only his mouth or cock would make the ache go away.
He grunted louder, pace quickening, slick suction echoing in the quiet room.
He could feel it building like a pressure in his gut, a heat that coiled deep and low. His balls had been tight for hours, so heavy it made him twitch just from shifting in his seat at dinner.
It was always like this now.
Every time he came, it was too much.
Rope after rope. Messy, hot, overwhelming.
Hyperspermia.
The medic had told him it was stress.
He’d almost laughed.
It wasn’t stress.
It was her.
His thighs trembled as he rutted faster into the toy, hips bucking up, his mind full of warm milk and soft skin, of her hand gently guiding him between her legs and whispering, “It’s okay… you can come inside, I’m already leaking too much…”
That did it.
König groaned loud, broken his back arching as he came hard.
Hot spurts flooded the toy, thick and forceful. His hips kept twitching as he spilled again and again, until it was too much and leaking from the sides.
His chest heaved. His hand shook.
It was the fourth time this week.
And it was never enough.
He saw her again the next morning.
She was in the locker hall, adjusting her gear. One hand lifted instinctively to tug at her vest right over her chest.
König’s throat went dry.
He couldn’t look away.
Not when her fingers pressed, just for a second, into the padded plate. As if testing if the ache was back.
She caught his stare.
Her eyes met his.
He froze.
And for the first time, something flickered in her gaze.
Soo my friend gave me the biggest idea of making a fanfic of König x Fem!lactating!reader. Reader is obviously lactating and könig lowkey has a lactation kink and I wanna know if yall are willing to read it or nah?
König x Fem!Lactating!Reader
Yes
No
Voting ended onJul 20, 2025
⚠️‼️‼️GUYS FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM @lana_luvstotrap FOR UPCOMING FANFICS AND/OR UPDATES ⚠️‼️‼️
Summary: Five can’t help but get hard watching his pregnant girl in one of his shirts that can barely button.
Warnings: Explicit, PnV, afab, and idk what else to put
A/N: I haven’t posted but this is what you’ll guys get for now, I’ll make a lil Michael Afton one after I’m done with this.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ *+*+*+*+*+*+*+ *+*+*+*+*+*+*+
The rain tapped lazily against the windowpane, the soft rhythm matching the thrum of your heartbeat as you lay curled under the sheets. The room was dim, lit only by the low amber glow of the bedside lamp. Five was beside you, propped up on one elbow, eyes tracing every curve of your body slightly rounder now, with the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath his old Academy shirt.
“You’re staring,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep and warmth.
He smirked, fingertips drifting gently over your bump. “Can you blame me?”
You reached up, cupping his jaw, fingers brushing the edge of his scruffy hair. “I feel huge.”
“You look incredible,” he said, lowering himself to kiss your shoulder, lips dragging along your collarbone. “Maybe even hotter than before.”
Your laugh caught in your throat when his hand slid under the hem of the shirt, resting over your bare thigh. His touch was featherlight almost reverent as if you might shatter beneath him. But he knew better. You weren’t fragile. You were fire, and he wanted to burn.
“You sure it’s okay?” he asked, gaze flicking from your lips to your belly.
You nodded, guiding his hand higher. “We’re okay. I want you.”
His breath hitched. That was all it took.
He kissed you slowly, deeply like he had all the time in the world. And for once, he did. No apocalypse, no time travel. Just you, him, and the baby that made you feel more connected than ever.
His body moved against yours with practiced ease, careful but hungry. Each kiss, each moan, was a promise. The shirt clung to your body, soft cotton stretched tight over your swollen belly. Five’s gaze dropped there again, pupils blown wide with want. You weren’t even sure if he was more turned on by the sight of you round with his baby or the way you whispered his name just now needy, breathless, desperate.
His hand trailed up your thigh, fingertips ghosting higher until they slipped between your legs. You were already wet, aching for him. He let out a low groan, leaning down to kiss the spot just below your ear.
“Fuck, baby… so ready for me already?”
You whined in response, bucking your hips up into his touch. “Please, Five…”
He didn’t make you beg. He pushed the shirt up higher, exposing your bare stomach and full breasts, and he paused just for a second to take it all in.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered against your skin before trailing hot kisses down your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and grab at his hair.
When he finally lined himself up at your entrance, he hesitated only a second one hand on your hip, the other braced near your belly.
“Tell me if anything hurts.”
“It won’t,” you whispered. “Just fuck me.”
And he did.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning as your walls clenched around him. You were tighter, hotter, everything amplified. His rhythm started slow, deep thrusts that made you feel every inch of him, every movement dragging friction along places that had you crying out.
Your fingers clawed at his back. “F-Five, harder—please—”
His control snapped like a string pulled too tight.
He shifted your legs up slightly, bracing one hand behind your thigh as he fucked into you harder, faster, his pelvis slapping against you with a rhythm that echoed off the walls. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, over and over, as if grounding himself in this moment this reality where you were his and carrying his child.
Your release hit first, your entire body tensing and trembling beneath him. Your moans turned to broken gasps as you clenched hard around him. He cursed, hips stuttering as he spilled into you with a low, guttural groan, holding you tight against him.
After, he collapsed beside you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple.
“You okay?” he asked, voice hoarse, but soft.
You nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Better than okay.”
Okay but like.. Its late one night, reader is sleeping peacefully beside Carl who is jerking off to the thought of being caught by reader and he’s like “nghh~ ” and then he’s like “f-fuck!” As he lets go and ropes of cum litters his hand and his pants? AHHHH im literally surviving on 1 hour of sleep😭
