pairing : Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x reader
rating : explicit (18+)
word count : 3.1k
tags : arranged marriage, smut, jealous!Simon, possessive!Simon, oral sex (f!recieving), orgasm denial/delay, p in v, creampie, use of ''my wife''
summary : your cold, indifferent husband can't pretend your marriage is just an arrangement anymore. all it took was to make him jealous.
a/n : asks and requests are open!
âđâËdivider by @uzmacchiato
"I take you, Simon Riley, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part."
You look towards the crowd witnessing you signing yourself off to a man you barely know, no familiar face offering you peace or consolation. It's done.
Simon slides a ring on your finger, the weight and flashiness of it reminiscent of a collar around an animal's neck--a proof of being owned for you to feel and for everyone else to see.
Isn't a wedding supposed to be the greatest day of one's life? Or at least that's a fantasy you've been led to believe in as a little girl. The dress is tailored perfectly to your taste, even more beautiful than you imagined it when daydreaming about your special day many moons ago. But it feels suffocating. You look downwards to mask the expression on your face reflecting your solemn mood.
You imagine you look like so many women captured in paintings and those who came before you and had to face the same fate of marrying a man whom they don't love to serve as a bridge to someone else's motives.
"Having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these witnesses, with the power vested in me by the law, I pronounce you husband and wife."
You look up to find his eyes already on you, never having left your face.
He was beautiful, you couldn't help noticing it. If the circumstances were any different, you may have fallen in love with him and been led down the aisle with a smile on your face. It's a daydream you imagine knowing what's to become of your life, to make it all easier.
"You may now kiss the bride."
He tips your chin up and presses his lips against yours in a cold ghost of a kiss. It's the only one you'll share in your marriage up until that one night that changed everything for you.
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It was lonely, being married to a man of stone. Cold, emotionally unavailable, his heart hardened by the war.
On your wedding night, he told you he expects nothing of you. You were relieved then, after dreading the moment the two of you will be all alone all of your wedding day. But now you wish he would've taken you then, so maybe you would've felt a sliver of warmth of his body, so you could at lest pretend this relationship wasn't entirely loveless.
Simon was away for long periods of time, it was something you had to get accustomed to very quickly. He always made sure you never wished for anything, just like he promised. If only he knew he was the one you were wishing for. His affection. His presence. Was it so wrong of you to wish your husband showed at least a little care and regard for you if you're going to spend your lives together?
You've practically convinced yourself that, since he didn't want this as much as you, if not even more, he must have a woman or multiple of them on the side. Does he not find you attractive enough or appealing enough? His long time spent away from home only gave more support to your growing suspicions, leaving you on your own with your thoughts in an empty bed, small tear droplets sliding down your face soaking into the soft pillows.
You were his wife. That was all you were now. Yet he couldn't be a husband. Not to you, not properly.
It was what angered you the most about the situation and drove you to what you thought was getting back at him.
If he could treat the marriage as if was non-existent, so could you.
âââ ê° á§à·á§ ê± âââ
Simon didn't think he was a jealous type.
But he was proved wrong when you showed up home two hours late, tipsy and slightly disheveled in that same, effortlessly beautiful way you always managed pull off whenever he observed you going about your day. But he wasn't looking at you with admiring eyes in this moment, not when a smell of another man's cologne lingers on you and fills his senses, not when your lipstick is smudged and your lips are puffy like you've been thoroughly kissed. It's something else.
He felt his chest tighten, a hot, churning sensation building in him. He wasn't one to let his emotions get the better of him, yet his breaths became shallower just at imagining you coming undone by another man's hand.
You look like a deer caught in headlights when you notice him there, yet still trying to put on a cocky, ignorant look. The feeling inside him doesn't let him stay quiet.
''You're late.'' His voice is low, flat as always, but his jaw clenching betrays the cold-hearted facade.
''I didn't realise I had a curfew.'' You slip off your heels, stumbling on your pained feet as you walk by him as if he isn't there. ''What, were you worried? You leave me alone so often, I can fend for myself.''
''Worried isn't the word.''
He stands up from the armchair in which he's been sitting the entirety of his waiting for you, catching your wrist just as you're about to walk out of the room, his movements sharp and reckless.
''Who were you with?''
The touch is charged with something so foreign to both of you, for he hasn't been rough with you, or even touched you purposely at all, really.
''Why do you care?''
''Because you are my wife. Or did you forget the contract?'' He grip doesn't loosen, his pale blue eyes locked on yours, telling you he's adamant. The second time he asks, it isn't a question, but a demand. ''Who were you with?''
''A friend.''
Simon only scoffs. ''A friend left his scent all over you?'' His free hand cups your jaw when you look away in shame or embarrasment, his thumb dragging over the smudged lipstick, smearing it in even more. ''A friend sent Mrs. Riley home to her husband not even bothering to clean up his mess?''
His touch isn't violent nor driven by anger, but pure possessiveness. He spits the words and inspects you for more telling signs that another has had you, a side of him that you've never seen seeping through the cracks rapidly.
It should make you upset, rightfully so. But warmth spreads through your veins and your heart races upon hearing the indirect confirmation that your husband isn't immune to feelings after all.
The tension in his body only builds when you don't satisfy him with an answer. ''Did you do that on purpose to rile me up, huh? Going around doing god knows what with other men behind my back? Or do you just disregard me?''
''If you wanted me to to act like your wife, maybe you should've tried being a husband to me. You're the one that behaves as if our marriage is nothing!''
He falls silent for a moment, realisation settling in.
He releases you from his hold, but only comes closer, his voice dropping.
''Do you know how hard it was holding back? I didn't want to force anything onto you, knowing you didn't have much choice marrying me. And this is what I get for being a gentleman? You could've asked for my fucking attention instead of pulling antics like this.''
He's so close you can feel his breath grazing your skin, and you can't help but feel he's so close but not close enough.
Not close enough to kiss you, to feel you and let you feel him, like lovers do.
''I'm asking you now,'' you whisper, inching closer, ''to stop being a gentleman and take me like you should have on our wedding night.''
Simon's composure shatters right then and there. He doesn't even respond with words, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you in to meet his wanting, demanding lips. His tongue forces itself into your mouth, overpowering yours with barely any effort, simply claiming you. He angles your head to deepen the kiss, mixing your saliva with his own.
''Is this what you wanted?'' He huffs against your lips after breaking the long wet kiss, your mouths connected with a string of spit. ''For your husband to claim you?''
You let out a weak whine for more, already pouting your lips and standing on your toes to meet his lips again, but he pulls away, stopping you so meanly. ''Words.''
''Please, Simon,'' you mutter, ''this is all I've wanted for a while.''
''Asking me so prettily.'' The corners of his lips pull upwards. He looks down at you almost proudly as he smears the spit off your glistening lips.
''Then you'll have it.''
Ghost pulls on your chin and you part your lips for him just so, awaiting him to kiss you hard again. He doesn't even waste time to build the kiss up gradually, continuing with the same intensity you left off at. His mouth stays locked with yours as he moves to scoop you into his arms bridal style in one fluid motion, one arm against your back and the other under your legs.
You knew he was a strong man, doing what he does, but this display of strength and the way he manhandled you so easily made you clench your thighs together, hoping to soothe the need in you that's growing more and more.
You're carried across the hall that seems to be too long in this moment, over the threshold of the master bedroom. Before you know it, you're thrown onto your marital bed you haven't used for anything but sleeping, splayed out on the mattress.
''Look at you. My wife.'' He whispers between ragged breaths, grinning when you spread your legs for him without having to be told to, your little dress not covering nearly enough for him to stay sane. His fingers trace the edge of your dress, but his gaze lingers on what's beneath it. ''Let's get rid of this, baby.''
You don't even have to follow his gaze down to realise his focus is entirely on your lace-clad pussy fully in his view, for your dress is bunched up at your hips. Like a little tease, you lift your hips for him to pull your lacy panties down. ''This?''
''Eager, are we?'' Ghost smirks, hiking his fingers into the this waistband and tugging them down. They end up thrown to the side, discarded somewhere on the floor, his focus only on the newly bare pussy.
Your teeth sink into your lower lip, watching him lower himself to level his face with your crotch, his hot breath brushing the glistening folds. ''Fuck, should've done this sooner.''
He doesn't waste time on warming you up, throwing your legs over his shoulders for leverage, locking his head between your plush thighs like it's the only place he wants to be. He spits on your pussy then smearing it all over with his tongue, circling your clit with the rounded tip of it. Your breath hitches at the instant, overwhelming stimulation, hips bucking into his mouth uselessly. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you as he devours you.
You try telling him it's too much, too intense all at once, but whenever you try to tell him, he abuses your sensitive clit so your words scramble into whimpers.
One of his arms leaves your hip to tug on the top of your dress, the other putting more force in to hold your impatient hips down. Simon's not letting you escape the pleasure. He still hasn't forgotten your betrayal, and he has an inkling you'll stay up all night to make it up to him.
You grip the sheets and try to make an effort to stay still to let him do his work, yet licks of his flat tongue pleasuring you, even at a languid pace, turn you into a whiny mess who can't stay put and take it like a good girl.
Your agitated husband simply can't have you squirming and distracting him, so it is only fair when he roughly pulls the top of your dress down, ripping a small seam or two. Without even taking a moment, he starts fondling your breast and tugging on your peaked nipple as a warning.
"Siâ Simon, it's tooâ" You attempt, but he shuts you up with a slap to your breast, making the fat jiggle before grabbing it crudely.
He doesn't loose focus all while playing with your breasts absentmindedly and blindly, squeezing, slapping, caressing, as if he's using them as stress relief, an outlet for his hectic jealousy or perhaps just a way to get you to drip more juices in his hungry, awaiting mouth.
Simon presses two of his fingers at your slippery entrance, just resting them there to withhold you for longer, letting the anticipation grow as butterflies, or more precisely, arousal in your stomach.
When he eventually does sink them into your warm, welcoming hole, it's because he felt your walls clenching, a telltale sign you're close. His thick digits stretch you out, the tips of them curling up and massaging that spongy spot inside you. He feels your velvety walls spasming around his fingers, sucking them in deeper, and he hears your little gasps, the biggest smirk on his lips that are sucking your puffy clit knowing he's driving you right to the edge. And that he'll stop right before you get there.
''Mhâ n-no-!''
You whine like a brat when he so meanly stops all stimulation at once, his fingers pulling out making an obscene, wet sound.
Simon laughs at you condescendingly, under his breath, the way you're all teary-eyed and frustrated, looking up at him like a baby who got their lollipop stolen, making it even better.
''What are you whining for, hm?'' He straightens up, unbuckling his belt. ''I'm not done with you.''
Your widened eyes are glued on your husband freeing his cock from the tight black boxers, seeing it stand hard and huge, the tip reddened and leaky with a bead of pearly white precum. It's even bigger than you imagined, and frankly, you're not sure the two of his fingers stretched you out nearly enough to make taking it easier.
Ghost lines up with your entrance, rubbing his dick through your damp lips, coating it in the slick to make the slide easier. You twitch whenever his tip bumps your overstimulated clit, making him chuckle. ''Poor girl, didn't get to cum and now you're so jumpy? I wore her out already?'' He coos mockingly, rubbing himself over the sensitive nerves on purpose to make you writhe. ''Too bad. Because I'm not stopping.''
Simon pokes the fat tip in your pussy, just pushing it in and out shallowly to tease you and himself. You just want him to put it in already and make you cum, but he's so mean about it, leaving you whining his name and pouting like a needy little thing.
He amuses himself with it for a little while until he decides you've been held off enough. You've been dulled by the repetitive teasing, not expecting it when he suddenly thrusts roughly, burying himself to the brim, not even letting you adjust to the size gradually. You gasp at the sensation of feeling so full so suddenly, your vision getting blurry from small tears gathering at your lash line from all his teasing and intensity.
''No crying now. That's what you wanted didn't you? For your husband to fuck you hard, hm?'' He rolls his hips slowly to keep you present and talking, pulling out only halfway then thrusting in again. ''So stop being such a little brat and take it like a big girl.''
Ghost is bullying his cock so, so deep into you, reaching spots you never could reach by yourself, the feeling of it dancing around the line between pain and pleasure.
If you weren't drunk on it all by this moment, you surely were now as he pushes your bent legs to your chest, folding you into a position that allows him to reach even deeper. He's everywhere, filling all your senses, consuming you entirely.
He lowers his head to trail open-mouthed kisses on your neck his grunts and huffs so much hotter and louder, more intimate when you hear them so close. You wiggle your arms from between your bodies to tangle your hands in his short blonde hair, pushing him harder down to sign to him you want more of his unrestrained mouth on you.
Simon takes the hint very well, grazing your supple skin with his sharp teeth then soothing the sting with his tongue. ''Like that? Need me to fucking mark you up so you're reminded whose wife you are?''
He mutters before sucking the thin skin of your neck and breasts, leaving pink and purple hickeys and imprinting his teeth just hard enough to make a few bite marks next to the pretty love bites. ''Since this fucking ring wasn't enough, huh?'' He pulls your hands from his hair, tracing your ring finger as the pins your wrists down on the mattress, taking full control and pulling back to look at his work. ''That's it. Let everyone see your husband ruined you like this.''
He rolls his hips while buried inside you, pelvis grinding against your clit with the purpose of making you cum this time around. Your body twitches and your legs kick out while you're climaxing powerfully, intensely, pussy squeezing his cock in a pulsating rhythm. ''Fuck, Simon, I'mâ I'mâ'' Your back arches of the bed as you ride out the waves of the orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of head. You don't even have the mind to moan or whimper his name or any word at all anymore, unable to stop the unruly, porny sounds leaving your open mouth.
''That's a good girl, that's it. Fuck, you're so tight.'' His hips stutter, thrusts becoming clumsy and shallower, his own orgasm triggered by yours. He paints your wall white with his thick cum, not making an effort to pull out. You seem to not mind by the way you've locked your legs around his waist, breathing heavy and hard and whispering ''Think it's gonna take?''
pairing : König x reader
rating : explicit (18+)
word count : 3.8k
tags : boxer!König AU, ring girl!reader, smut, p in v, obsessive König, semi-public sex, standing up sex
summary :
a/n : asks and requests are open!
âđâËdivider by @pixopix
''Don't lose focus, y'hear me?''
The metallic taste of blood lingers in König's mouth. It's not washed away by the not nearly generous, quick splash of water his coach granted him.
''Bastards's almost caught up to you one by one. Tighten up, don't let him take ya' off guardâŠ'' The repetitive, tough advice and pep talk fades into the background. His head feels heavy, feverish. He can feel his heartbeat in his temples. But his eyes follow you as you make your way around the ring showing off the card signalling the final round in your little shorts, with your tits bulging out of that excuse of a top. He wouldn't blame all the hollering people in the crowd if they only came to the match to see you do your little walk. That's why he's here too. ''Hey- Y'listening?''
''Ja.'' He nods absentmindedly, not putting in any effort at all to make himself sound somewhat believable.
''Jesus Christ, she's not the one trying to knock your teeth out.'' The coach rumbles. Can you focus for one second instead of eyefucking the girl like you're not fighting a final fucking round for a belt inâ''
The bell rings and you slip out of the cage, disappearing from his longing sight momentarily.
''Fuck.''Â His coach mutters under his breath after being interrupted by the bell, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. ''Focus. You've got this.''
König nods, stealing one final look at you before getting into position, rising his gloved arms.
''Here we go, ladies and gentlemen! The twelfth and final round!''
Your eyes don't meet his.
Instead, you're looking at his opponent with that devastatingly beautiful smile.
Why him? He thought he was your favourite. You alwaysâ
Before he can register it, all lost in thought, a jab smashes into his guard, jolting him backwards.
He focuses his blurry sight on what's in front of him, the gravity of the moment dawning upon him.
He can't let him win. Not when your favour is on the line.
He may have been distracted by you for the entirety of the match, leading to his opponent gaining some points. He knew he's stronger in the end, so he didn't care about it particularly. The fucking title is the least of his worries. In his mind, he was fighting for something better. You.
He knew his baby was just so nice she felt bad for the losers too. It was only pity. But even that being extended to other men is more than enough for him to become fuelled by pure, unadulterated jealousy.
His opponent is huffing, moving in place anxiously, waiting for a strike back. By the look on his bruised face, König's odd, cold reaction to the move must've startled him.
Look at this, Schatz. He'll prove himself to you. He'll give you the best show.
Looking indifferent just the moment before, König now lunges forward full-force, like a killing machine instead of a beaten up human, driven by the force of petty jealousy and the insecure need to prove himself.
He doesn't respond with a feeling-out jab, he doesn't circle around, waiting for the right moment.
He aims his glove right to the other man's temple, crashing against it. The man stumbles sideways, steadying himself by grabbing onto the ropes then bouncing back off of them, heaving.
König doesn't let him breathe for even a moment before rolling his shoulder forward, stalking in his space instead of backing away.
His hand flies, moves thrown hitting the enemy critically, leaving him folded over and acting more like a man stuck in fight or flight rather than a finalist, a competitor for the belt whose well thought out strategies and moves led him to this moment. It is all nothing when faced against König's determination to impress you.
Love has the ability to make people do reckless things, truly. As if he wasn't deranged enough on his own.
His last left hook is met with a desperate counter attack that's more instinct than strategy, the opponent clipping him along the brow and reopening the cut . Yet he stays unbothered by it, swinging his glove for a right uppercut, while blood trickles down the left side of his face.
He catches a glimpse of your worried face with the corner of his eye, your brows scrunched in worry, mouth agape when you see him bloodied up again. He's sorry for worrying you, baby. Maybe you can take pity on him and kiss it better after.
Thinking the hit would stall König, the challenger lowers his guard for a spare second, which soon proves to be a grave mistake. Exploiting the distraction, König slips into the space of the lowered guard and throws in a liver shot after a jab, knocking the opponent to his knees.
''Unbelieveable! König knocks down the challenger and the round has barely started! Counting down from ONE, TWOâŠ''
He uses his body weight to keep him down, beating him beyond the need to, merciless in his doing. Everything, even the loud cheering and the struggling of the man beneath him fading away as he finds you looking, eyes wide.
This is all for you.
''âŠFIVE! SIX!''
The ringing in his ears dulls the the countdown to background noise. Everything is a blur.
''âŠNINE! TEN!!!''
He only knows it's over when your face lights up with a big smile and you jump up and down excitedly with the other girls like you were cheering for him.
''WE HAVE A WINNER! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE NEW HEAVYWEIGHT WORLD CHAMPION!''
He gets up from the collapsed man on the ring floor, led to the middle of the scene where cameras and eyes are all pointed at him.
Lights flash and the crowd gets louder as the referee rises his arm, presenting his victory to the world.
Yet his heart is outside of the ring.
With you.
âââ ââ ââ â ââ
''So, König, how does it feel to be the best in the world?''
''Good.'' He answers passively, frustrated with the shitty sports reporters interfering with his intentions to get to you, physically blocking the way.
The thick, showy belt still hung heavy on his hips. His chest rose and fell hard, breath dragging in and out as the adrenaline drained out of him in uneven waves.
"Right, of course. Tell us, what was your motivation through the final roundâ and all of this, really? It must've been hard all of that training and sacrificesâ"
He's disassociated from the interview, not paying any mind to what the person holding the microphone in his face is saying. The more they talk, the more he shuts off, the questions going right through one ear and out the other.
His attention is fixated on you instead.
He's starting like he's afraid you'll run away before he can get to you, that you'll disappear and make every effort of his work fruitless, for it isn't anything worthy if you're not there to share it with him.
You're laughing with one of the other girls, mouth smiling wide. He's captivated, as if everyone and everything else in non-existent, as if you were an angel flung down to Earth to torture him endlessly with this horrible, never ending longing. One would think there's a halo around your head and wings sprung from your back by the way his tired eyes glimmer when you glance his way.
It's only when the reporter chuckles and makes a comment that he realises he hasn't provided an answer to whatever the question was. "Well, I guess that's our answer right there!" The camera zooms in on you in the background and König snaps back into reality.
He doesn't deny it or take it back, just grins uncharacteristically shyly for a man who just beat another man down brutally in a match. "Ja."
"And one last questionâ wait, champion!"
But König has already turned away. He's walking towards you, not about to risk losing the opportunity to talk to you because of a stupid interview. They'll have to understand he simply has no interest nor time to give stupid interviews.
He exits the main area you've just left, following you to the back, away from the crowd and flashes of cameras.
He brushes off his coach calling him and the med staff trying to get him patched up. Despite being severely injured and exhausted, none of that is in any way his priority right now. Your affection could make him forget all about the pain in his bones and the blood slowly drying on his face better than a medic ever could anyway.
The hallway to the locker rooms serves as a quiet sanctuary in the moment, a space away from prying eyes and distractions.
You only notice him behind you when a tap on your shoulder startles you, making you jump. You turn around abruptly only to see König looming over you awkwardly, rising his calloused hand into the air.
"Oh, hiâ sorry! I didn't see you there."
You chuckle it off, heart rate still spiked despite the 'threat' passing.
You never imagined a man like him could move so stealthily, so much so that you barely even noticed him walking behind you until his arm settled on your shoulder.
As much as he's afraid of making the wrong move or coming off as weird, he still grins like an idiot at your adorable timid reactions before catching himself doing so.
"Ach. I'm sorry. I just wanted toâŠ"
He curses himself out internally. He didn't mean to corner you, to back you against the wall. Not yet, at least. It's hard following the socially-acceptable steps to reaching that point when just being in your presence makes him incredibly nervous. And incredibly horny.
"Did you see it? The match?"
''Of course I did!'' You offer him a smile, one so cheerful and celebratory of his win. ''Congratulations on the win! The last round was amazing, really.''
''Good.'' He looks down, smirking a little at the flattery. ''I wanted you to look.''
You have trouble discerning between his words being flirty or friendly with the way his demeanour is awkward, in an oddly endearing way. ''Um, so what are you doing here in the back? I believe I heard your coach and the medics are looking for you.''
The change of theme brightens the awkward silence, yet you can't bring yourself to look into his intense eyes for longer than a moment. ''Aren't you supposed to be giving interviews? You're a big deal now.''
König shakes his head dismissively. "Nein. I came to see you." He inches closer, his intimidating form hovering over you. "More important." He adds, determined to make his intentions clear.
"Oh... really?" You find yourself getting a little flustered, taken by surprise by this unexpected confession, not knowing how to act when he's so undeniable about it. "You really should get your wounds patched up, though, don't you think?" You reach out hesitantly, inspecting the cut above his brow and the bruises all over him which will undoubtedly darken. "It must hurt a lot."
The gentle contact on his injured jaw both soothes him and ignites him more. "Does it worry you?" He leans his face into your hand immediately, like a puppy who was waiting to be pet, his own huge hand covering yours to keep it in place.
Before you can utter an answer, he nuzzles your hand in a motion resembling a head shake, to deny the pain. "Your hands are soft. Doesn't hurt anymore."
König backs you against the wall in the empty hallway, as gently as that action can be, his ragged body towering over you. He's huffing, visibly still under the effects of injury, adrenaline and his devout need for you. "Was it worth it? Tell me." He mutters desperately, seeking a sign that his obsession could be justifiable by your mutual affection.
Your heart rate quickens, the space between the both of you narrowing. His body heat radiates onto you, the contact making you flustered. You can only mutter, "Was what worth it?" ,distracted by his chiselled body and the fire in his eyes.
"Everything." He huffs, voice low and husky. "FĂŒr dich⊠all I do is for you."
You can't even register the intensity of what he's saying, when in just a fraction of a moment he closes the final distance between you a little forcefully, as if something primal possessed him. His hungry lips are pressed firmly against yours in an open-mouthed kiss when his hot tongue intrudes into your mouth, swirling against yours. He has no restraint remaining inside of him after all of this waiting.
"Taste so good." He mutters against your lips, more to himself. He's imagined it so many times, feeling your sweet lips moving against his, licking all inside that pretty mouth and mixing his spit with yours until the both of you are a mess.
König presses you more firmly against the wall, his hips pinning yours down. You realise the heavy breaths are no longer proof of exhaustion and pain, but of arousal.
"KönigâŠ" You let out a shaky breath when his hard bulge grinds against your heat.
"Ja, Schatz?" He doesn't stop, but hikes one of your legs up on his hip to roll his hips harder, rubbing his cock against your pussy over your tiny shorts. "Feel that? This too, 's all for you."
He doesn't wait for a reply, dipping back in to kiss you again, more deliberate this time around. The claiming, sloppy motion of his mouth on yours echoes the desperate pace of his hips. You feel his hot breath on your face when he releases your lips for breath, wetness pooling in your underwear already. You're unable to stop the small, inevitable moan falling from your lips when he drags his clothed cock over your needy, puffy clit over and over again.
As you let out the tiny sound, your eyes dart to the door which could open any moment and leave whomever walks in on the two of you scandalised. "Waitâ not here."
He grunts, glancing towards the locker room, frustrated to pause his humping to get you somewhere private. He personally didn't care about getting caught. For all he cares, he would've had you in the ring if you let him.
König bows down to grip your hips, throwing you over his shoulder with ease, even when his muscles should be aching from the fight, he manhandles you as if you weight nothing at all. His hands hold you steady and wander to explore your pretty thighs and the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh. "So soft, Liebling." He turns his head to nuzzle your plush thigh, his lips brushing against it when he whispers. "Distracting me so bad the whole fight."
You're only set down once he's got you in the locker room, kept away from all the prying eyes you didn't want to encounter.
His greedy mouth captures yours the moment he has access to it again, catching your lower lip with his teeth in a gentle nip then soothing the sting with his tongue. You're pressed against the cold metal lockers, caged by his body which is picking up right where you left off.
The elaborately flashy best gets in the way of his ministrations, a barrier between your skin and his. "Stupid thing⊠in the way" So he throws it on the floor like it isn't the greatest accomplishment of a boxer's life. It's significance is to be ignored when he's presented with your pretty flustered face and puffy lips bitter raw by none other than him. Not to mention your cute little ass in the tiny outfit that caused him many unsolicited boners before and after his fights way too many times. It's a wonder he's had that much control to wait so long to grab a chance to catch a glimpse of what's under it.
You feel his hands wandering beneath the waistband of your tight shorts, tugging on them.He pulls them down along with your underwear, the most blissful look on his face when he sees the darkened, wet patch on your discarded panties. ''You want me too, Liebling?'' He mutters against your lips, breathless, already all over you. ''Ja⊠I'll give it to youâŠ''
You roll your hips involuntarily when his fingers drag through your damp folds, rubbing your entrance and clit in rushed exploration of your core. König chuckles at your adorable squirming, still licking and kissing on your swollen lips. ''Hmh, so cute when you squirm, Shatz.'' He rubs your clit in tight circles, the pads of his figners pressing on it harder than necessary just to draw out little sounds out of you and make you twitch. Your body doesn't know if it wants to chase more of the direct stimulation or to get away from it.
You're on the verge of crying out, on the edge of an orgasm when he so cruelly withdraws, shushing your protests. ''Shh, shh⊠on my cock, ja? Want to⊠toâŠ'' He trails off, more focused on smearing his cock in your pussy juices after pulling down his boxers just enough for it to spring free. His cock is hanging heavy as he guides his tip through your lips to your entrance, the tip of it prodding into your tight stretchy hole.
''ScheiĂe.'' He breathes out, pushing in halfway then pulling out almost completely, trying to prepare you for his growing impatience and primal urge to just fill you to the brim and fuck you until you pass out. Judging by your gasp, you would've barely been able to take the whole thing in the first thrust. He was right to just give you the half of his cock to warm you up so nicely.
He cups your face in his hand, watching the way your mouth falls open and your brows scrunch at the stretch. ''Shh, relax, Schatz⊠that's not even the half of me.'' He whispers, rubbing soothing circles on the thigh that's propped up on his hip awkwardly, propmting you to breathe deep so he can impale you on his cock fully.
It's hard taking him on its own, but it's even more uncomfortable to do it standing up on one leg, with your back pressed against the uneven surface of the locker wall. You just whine and grip his biceps to hold yourself up, trying to signal to him to put you down and shift into a more comfortable position, but he takes it as a sign that you want to be picked up. You're scooped up, one of his arms supporting your ass while the other rubs your back in a poor attempt of comforting you when gravitation does the inevitable and has you sinking down on his cock, for you have nowhere else to go in this position. ''Okay, I carry you, Liebling.''
You're whimpering uselessly, too weak to even protest when you see the stupid, pussydrunk look on his face, so proud of himself for what he thinks is doing exactly what your little moans and teary eyes asked him to. You must've wanted to feel close, right? And to see how strong he is.You're not even leaned against the wall, but simply held in his arms as he thrusts up into you while walking with you, still inside. Because why would he bother pulling out of your warm, sweet pussy which is clenching around him perfectly for such a simple task that is walking over to the mirror to see it all even better.
König smirks, both hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them to see your cute holes. He lifts you up and sinks you down again, bouncing you on his cock effortlessly and watching it all in the mirror, mesmerised. ''Ja⊠look how good you take me.'' He says it so proudly, you can't hide the pink glow of your cheeks at the mixed feeling of fluster and embarrassment. You can't keep your moans in either, breathing hot and heavy against his neck and whimpering so close to his ears, driving him insane.
He groans, a smug look on his face. ''Wanted to hide from sights but now you're moaning so loud for me, Schatz⊠You're not very discreet, haâŠ'' He teases, his pace becoming more rapid.
You hold your breath, teeth sinking into your lower lip in an attmpt of keeping quiet, panicking when you're able to truly make out sounds of footsteps approaching. ''N-No⊠ahâ!''
König disregards your protests, just fucking you harder on purpose. ''Shh⊠it's okayâŠ'' He didn't want you quiet. It's selfish, but in his defense, you sounded too pretty for him to give up the full experience.
Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, the fear and thrill of being caught meddling on your fucked out mind. You sink your teeth into his shoulder hard, trying to keep your voice down until the footsteps pass.
''Fuckâ''Â It earns you a groan from him and the tilt of your hips so he can fuck you at a better angle, hitting your g-spot just right with every thrust, determined to make you cum and scream for him, everyone else to be damned.
He's so mean about it, even when his muscles burn from bouncing you on his cock for so long. You can't hold in the orgasm that's hitting you, it's too much, the stimulation everywhere and his hot sounds andâ
You cry out, teeth still very much biting into the flesh of his shoulder. You writhe and squirm and tremble, but he holds you in place, forcing you to feel it all, still pumping in and out of you to chase his own climax. ''ScheiĂe⊠That's itâ'' You brace for impact of someone bursting through the door right in on this, squeezing your eyes shut when you simply can't keep you voice in when he paints your walls white with his cum, letting the combination of it with your slick drip out of your slippery pussy down his balls.
The footsteps grow fainter and you breathe out a sigh of relief.
You go slack in his arms, but he's right there to support your limp body. He just cradles you, not wanting to put you down even after the intense workout that was holding you up for the while round of fucking while injured. ''Mm⊠We should do this before my every fight.'' He suggest, not leaving space for rejection at all. There was no way in hell he'd ever give this up. ''My lucky charm.''
pairing : Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x reader
rating : explicit (18+)
word count : 3.1k
tags : arranged marriage, smut, jealous!Simon, possessive!Simon, oral sex (f!recieving), orgasm denial/delay, p in v, creampie, use of ''my wife''
summary : your cold, indifferent husband can't pretend your marriage is just an arrangement anymore. all it took was to make him jealous.
a/n : asks and requests are open!
âđâËdivider by @uzmacchiato
"I take you, Simon Riley, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part."
You look towards the crowd witnessing you signing yourself off to a man you barely know, no familiar face offering you peace or consolation. It's done.
Simon slides a ring on your finger, the weight and flashiness of it reminiscent of a collar around an animal's neck--a proof of being owned for you to feel and for everyone else to see.
Isn't a wedding supposed to be the greatest day of one's life? Or at least that's a fantasy you've been led to believe in as a little girl. The dress is tailored perfectly to your taste, even more beautiful than you imagined it when daydreaming about your special day many moons ago. But it feels suffocating. You look downwards to mask the expression on your face reflecting your solemn mood.
You imagine you look like so many women captured in paintings and those who came before you and had to face the same fate of marrying a man whom they don't love to serve as a bridge to someone else's motives.
"Having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these witnesses, with the power vested in me by the law, I pronounce you husband and wife."
You look up to find his eyes already on you, never having left your face.
He was beautiful, you couldn't help noticing it. If the circumstances were any different, you may have fallen in love with him and been led down the aisle with a smile on your face. It's a daydream you imagine knowing what's to become of your life, to make it all easier.
"You may now kiss the bride."
He tips your chin up and presses his lips against yours in a cold ghost of a kiss. It's the only one you'll share in your marriage up until that one night that changed everything for you.
âââ ê° á§à·á§ ê± âââ
It was lonely, being married to a man of stone. Cold, emotionally unavailable, his heart hardened by the war.
On your wedding night, he told you he expects nothing of you. You were relieved then, after dreading the moment the two of you will be all alone all of your wedding day. But now you wish he would've taken you then, so maybe you would've felt a sliver of warmth of his body, so you could at lest pretend this relationship wasn't entirely loveless.
Simon was away for long periods of time, it was something you had to get accustomed to very quickly. He always made sure you never wished for anything, just like he promised. If only he knew he was the one you were wishing for. His affection. His presence. Was it so wrong of you to wish your husband showed at least a little care and regard for you if you're going to spend your lives together?
You've practically convinced yourself that, since he didn't want this as much as you, if not even more, he must have a woman or multiple of them on the side. Does he not find you attractive enough or appealing enough? His long time spent away from home only gave more support to your growing suspicions, leaving you on your own with your thoughts in an empty bed, small tear droplets sliding down your face soaking into the soft pillows.
You were his wife. That was all you were now. Yet he couldn't be a husband. Not to you, not properly.
It was what angered you the most about the situation and drove you to what you thought was getting back at him.
If he could treat the marriage as if was non-existent, so could you.
âââ ê° á§à·á§ ê± âââ
Simon didn't think he was a jealous type.
But he was proved wrong when you showed up home two hours late, tipsy and slightly disheveled in that same, effortlessly beautiful way you always managed pull off whenever he observed you going about your day. But he wasn't looking at you with admiring eyes in this moment, not when a smell of another man's cologne lingers on you and fills his senses, not when your lipstick is smudged and your lips are puffy like you've been thoroughly kissed. It's something else.
He felt his chest tighten, a hot, churning sensation building in him. He wasn't one to let his emotions get the better of him, yet his breaths became shallower just at imagining you coming undone by another man's hand.
You look like a deer caught in headlights when you notice him there, yet still trying to put on a cocky, ignorant look. The feeling inside him doesn't let him stay quiet.
''You're late.'' His voice is low, flat as always, but his jaw clenching betrays the cold-hearted facade.
''I didn't realise I had a curfew.'' You slip off your heels, stumbling on your pained feet as you walk by him as if he isn't there. ''What, were you worried? You leave me alone so often, I can fend for myself.''
''Worried isn't the word.''
He stands up from the armchair in which he's been sitting the entirety of his waiting for you, catching your wrist just as you're about to walk out of the room, his movements sharp and reckless.
''Who were you with?''
The touch is charged with something so foreign to both of you, for he hasn't been rough with you, or even touched you purposely at all, really.
''Why do you care?''
''Because you are my wife. Or did you forget the contract?'' He grip doesn't loosen, his pale blue eyes locked on yours, telling you he's adamant. The second time he asks, it isn't a question, but a demand. ''Who were you with?''
''A friend.''
Simon only scoffs. ''A friend left his scent all over you?'' His free hand cups your jaw when you look away in shame or embarrasment, his thumb dragging over the smudged lipstick, smearing it in even more. ''A friend sent Mrs. Riley home to her husband not even bothering to clean up his mess?''
His touch isn't violent nor driven by anger, but pure possessiveness. He spits the words and inspects you for more telling signs that another has had you, a side of him that you've never seen seeping through the cracks rapidly.
It should make you upset, rightfully so. But warmth spreads through your veins and your heart races upon hearing the indirect confirmation that your husband isn't immune to feelings after all.
The tension in his body only builds when you don't satisfy him with an answer. ''Did you do that on purpose to rile me up, huh? Going around doing god knows what with other men behind my back? Or do you just disregard me?''
''If you wanted me to to act like your wife, maybe you should've tried being a husband to me. You're the one that behaves as if our marriage is nothing!''
He falls silent for a moment, realisation settling in.
He releases you from his hold, but only comes closer, his voice dropping.
''Do you know how hard it was holding back? I didn't want to force anything onto you, knowing you didn't have much choice marrying me. And this is what I get for being a gentleman? You could've asked for my fucking attention instead of pulling antics like this.''
He's so close you can feel his breath grazing your skin, and you can't help but feel he's so close but not close enough.
Not close enough to kiss you, to feel you and let you feel him, like lovers do.
''I'm asking you now,'' you whisper, inching closer, ''to stop being a gentleman and take me like you should have on our wedding night.''
Simon's composure shatters right then and there. He doesn't even respond with words, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you in to meet his wanting, demanding lips. His tongue forces itself into your mouth, overpowering yours with barely any effort, simply claiming you. He angles your head to deepen the kiss, mixing your saliva with his own.
''Is this what you wanted?'' He huffs against your lips after breaking the long wet kiss, your mouths connected with a string of spit. ''For your husband to claim you?''
You let out a weak whine for more, already pouting your lips and standing on your toes to meet his lips again, but he pulls away, stopping you so meanly. ''Words.''
''Please, Simon,'' you mutter, ''this is all I've wanted for a while.''
''Asking me so prettily.'' The corners of his lips pull upwards. He looks down at you almost proudly as he smears the spit off your glistening lips.
''Then you'll have it.''
Ghost pulls on your chin and you part your lips for him just so, awaiting him to kiss you hard again. He doesn't even waste time to build the kiss up gradually, continuing with the same intensity you left off at. His mouth stays locked with yours as he moves to scoop you into his arms bridal style in one fluid motion, one arm against your back and the other under your legs.
You knew he was a strong man, doing what he does, but this display of strength and the way he manhandled you so easily made you clench your thighs together, hoping to soothe the need in you that's growing more and more.
You're carried across the hall that seems to be too long in this moment, over the threshold of the master bedroom. Before you know it, you're thrown onto your marital bed you haven't used for anything but sleeping, splayed out on the mattress.
''Look at you. My wife.'' He whispers between ragged breaths, grinning when you spread your legs for him without having to be told to, your little dress not covering nearly enough for him to stay sane. His fingers trace the edge of your dress, but his gaze lingers on what's beneath it. ''Let's get rid of this, baby.''
You don't even have to follow his gaze down to realise his focus is entirely on your lace-clad pussy fully in his view, for your dress is bunched up at your hips. Like a little tease, you lift your hips for him to pull your lacy panties down. ''This?''
''Eager, are we?'' Ghost smirks, hiking his fingers into the this waistband and tugging them down. They end up thrown to the side, discarded somewhere on the floor, his focus only on the newly bare pussy.
Your teeth sink into your lower lip, watching him lower himself to level his face with your crotch, his hot breath brushing the glistening folds. ''Fuck, should've done this sooner.''
He doesn't waste time on warming you up, throwing your legs over his shoulders for leverage, locking his head between your plush thighs like it's the only place he wants to be. He spits on your pussy then smearing it all over with his tongue, circling your clit with the rounded tip of it. Your breath hitches at the instant, overwhelming stimulation, hips bucking into his mouth uselessly. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you as he devours you.
You try telling him it's too much, too intense all at once, but whenever you try to tell him, he abuses your sensitive clit so your words scramble into whimpers.
One of his arms leaves your hip to tug on the top of your dress, the other putting more force in to hold your impatient hips down. Simon's not letting you escape the pleasure. He still hasn't forgotten your betrayal, and he has an inkling you'll stay up all night to make it up to him.
You grip the sheets and try to make an effort to stay still to let him do his work, yet licks of his flat tongue pleasuring you, even at a languid pace, turn you into a whiny mess who can't stay put and take it like a good girl.
Your agitated husband simply can't have you squirming and distracting him, so it is only fair when he roughly pulls the top of your dress down, ripping a small seam or two. Without even taking a moment, he starts fondling your breast and tugging on your peaked nipple as a warning.
"Siâ Simon, it's tooâ" You attempt, but he shuts you up with a slap to your breast, making the fat jiggle before grabbing it crudely.
He doesn't loose focus all while playing with your breasts absentmindedly and blindly, squeezing, slapping, caressing, as if he's using them as stress relief, an outlet for his hectic jealousy or perhaps just a way to get you to drip more juices in his hungry, awaiting mouth.
Simon presses two of his fingers at your slippery entrance, just resting them there to withhold you for longer, letting the anticipation grow as butterflies, or more precisely, arousal in your stomach.
When he eventually does sink them into your warm, welcoming hole, it's because he felt your walls clenching, a telltale sign you're close. His thick digits stretch you out, the tips of them curling up and massaging that spongy spot inside you. He feels your velvety walls spasming around his fingers, sucking them in deeper, and he hears your little gasps, the biggest smirk on his lips that are sucking your puffy clit knowing he's driving you right to the edge. And that he'll stop right before you get there.
''Mhâ n-no-!''
You whine like a brat when he so meanly stops all stimulation at once, his fingers pulling out making an obscene, wet sound.
Simon laughs at you condescendingly, under his breath, the way you're all teary-eyed and frustrated, looking up at him like a baby who got their lollipop stolen, making it even better.
''What are you whining for, hm?'' He straightens up, unbuckling his belt. ''I'm not done with you.''
Your widened eyes are glued on your husband freeing his cock from the tight black boxers, seeing it stand hard and huge, the tip reddened and leaky with a bead of pearly white precum. It's even bigger than you imagined, and frankly, you're not sure the two of his fingers stretched you out nearly enough to make taking it easier.
Ghost lines up with your entrance, rubbing his dick through your damp lips, coating it in the slick to make the slide easier. You twitch whenever his tip bumps your overstimulated clit, making him chuckle. ''Poor girl, didn't get to cum and now you're so jumpy? I wore her out already?'' He coos mockingly, rubbing himself over the sensitive nerves on purpose to make you writhe. ''Too bad. Because I'm not stopping.''
Simon pokes the fat tip in your pussy, just pushing it in and out shallowly to tease you and himself. You just want him to put it in already and make you cum, but he's so mean about it, leaving you whining his name and pouting like a needy little thing.
He amuses himself with it for a little while until he decides you've been held off enough. You've been dulled by the repetitive teasing, not expecting it when he suddenly thrusts roughly, burying himself to the brim, not even letting you adjust to the size gradually. You gasp at the sensation of feeling so full so suddenly, your vision getting blurry from small tears gathering at your lash line from all his teasing and intensity.
''No crying now. That's what you wanted didn't you? For your husband to fuck you hard, hm?'' He rolls his hips slowly to keep you present and talking, pulling out only halfway then thrusting in again. ''So stop being such a little brat and take it like a big girl.''
Ghost is bullying his cock so, so deep into you, reaching spots you never could reach by yourself, the feeling of it dancing around the line between pain and pleasure.
If you weren't drunk on it all by this moment, you surely were now as he pushes your bent legs to your chest, folding you into a position that allows him to reach even deeper. He's everywhere, filling all your senses, consuming you entirely.
He lowers his head to trail open-mouthed kisses on your neck his grunts and huffs so much hotter and louder, more intimate when you hear them so close. You wiggle your arms from between your bodies to tangle your hands in his short blonde hair, pushing him harder down to sign to him you want more of his unrestrained mouth on you.
Simon takes the hint very well, grazing your supple skin with his sharp teeth then soothing the sting with his tongue. ''Like that? Need me to fucking mark you up so you're reminded whose wife you are?''
He mutters before sucking the thin skin of your neck and breasts, leaving pink and purple hickeys and imprinting his teeth just hard enough to make a few bite marks next to the pretty love bites. ''Since this fucking ring wasn't enough, huh?'' He pulls your hands from his hair, tracing your ring finger as the pins your wrists down on the mattress, taking full control and pulling back to look at his work. ''That's it. Let everyone see your husband ruined you like this.''
He rolls his hips while buried inside you, pelvis grinding against your clit with the purpose of making you cum this time around. Your body twitches and your legs kick out while you're climaxing powerfully, intensely, pussy squeezing his cock in a pulsating rhythm. ''Fuck, Simon, I'mâ I'mâ'' Your back arches of the bed as you ride out the waves of the orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of head. You don't even have the mind to moan or whimper his name or any word at all anymore, unable to stop the unruly, porny sounds leaving your open mouth.
''That's a good girl, that's it. Fuck, you're so tight.'' His hips stutter, thrusts becoming clumsy and shallower, his own orgasm triggered by yours. He paints your wall white with his thick cum, not making an effort to pull out. You seem to not mind by the way you've locked your legs around his waist, breathing heavy and hard and whispering ''Think it's gonna take?''
pairing : König x camgirl!reader
rating : explicit (18+)
word count : 1.7k
tags : smut, masturbation, mutual masturbation, webcam/video chat sex, obsession, jealousy, lingerie, stripping, delusional König, possessive König, cameras
summary : König feels more than a little parasocial about his favourite cam girl. in his mind, you were already only his.
a/n : asks and requests are open!
âđâËdivider by @pixopix
The room is always awfully quiet before streams start. It makes you too aware of yourself, or rather, the real self, before you bury that down and put on a perfect smile for the cameras. A smile that shows how ever grateful and happy to see them. Despite not knowing who âtheyâ even are, hiding behind their own screens and rather cringy usernames.
You adjust the lighting and the angle of the camera, checking your hair and makeup one last time before starting your setup. The monitors light up, tons of notifications from the streaming site popping up when you log in. You ignore them, mostly. But one username keeps popping up. WolfeJĂ€ger66. Heâs a regular patron, always tipping generously and buying plenty of stuff from your wishlist, watching your every stream and purchasing the private, VIP streams so often that you rarely have time to fit another in.
You close the notification centre, getting in character before pressing the start stream button.
Tease. Thank. Comply with a smile.
Itâs all it revolves around to keep the audience interested.
Putting on a practiced smile, you press the Go Live button.
The time on your monitor reads 8:03PM. Three minutes late. He notices everything.
âMissed me?â you tease playfully, getting into it as the viewer count goes up.
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $50
âshow us more babyâ
âImpatient tonight, hm?â You drag down the zipper of your sweater down slowly, showing no more than a usual low cut shirt would, leaving the viewers wanting more.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $250
âLose the sweater.â
You play around with the chat, stripping the sweater off and posing for the camera in lingerie thatâs leaving little to imagination. The skimpy piece of lace was something he bought you off your wish list, and his ridiculously high donations always went up whenever you wore something he chose for you.
âWhat do you think about the new set? Did it live up to your expectations, WolfeJĂ€ger?â
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $450
âBetter.â
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $100
âlean over the camera, sexyâ
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $600
âIgnore him, schatz. Canât be so demanding while tipping pocket change.â
König much preferred when you did private streams for him, but he liked proving heâs the best one for you, competing with the other scums. Heâll have you just for himself soon enough.
Stalking you down was easy. Convincing you that you want it is the harder part. And heâs taking his time. He knows youâll see it his way soon.
He reaches out with his hand to his screen, stroking your cheek. How beautiful you were, even through the camera, wearing lingerie he spent his blood money on. It made his pants painfully tighter.
He pulls his cock out of the confinement of his boxer briefs, stroking it slowly and typing clumsily with the other, forgoing capital letters and punctuation marks, not caring for typos.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âshow them what else my money bought youâ
âOh, you want a try-on? That can be arranged.â You wink playfully before getting up from your chair to get all the gift boxes he sent you.
The chat fills up with heart eyed emojis and dirty comments when you turn, ass on display for them. Your movements are all inherently sexy, purely for their gaze. Itâs what gets them to pay up, after all.
You open the luxury boxes, entertaining the chat with filtrations. They leave small tips, asking to see you in this and that set, but you catch yourself waiting for that one user to pop up. And it does. Your screen flashes with little hearts and shiny, over-the-top animations.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 sent a SuperChat Gift
âthe red one schatz. put the halters onâ
The deep red colour was the definition of temptation. The panties were crotchless, a dangerous combination with the sheer bra embroidered with exquisite lacy details. No oneâs going to pay attention to that when your pussy is bare along with your nipples peaking out, but you liked to appreciate beauty where you could find it.
You hold them off for longer, toying with the strap of the bra you have on, pretending youâre having trouble with the buckle. âOnly is someoneâs hands could help me take this off.â You make sounds of frustration that are suggestive, knowing exactly what you were doing. You formed your words in a way that makes every viewer feel as if youâre talking to them. And they love it.
[System]
user1286628 tipped $50
âi could help you with that, sugar ;)â
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âstop feeding into their delusions schatz. take it off for me.â
As if he isnât the most delusional one, you think to yourself.
The bra falls to your lap, views skyrocketing the moment your naked breasts are exposed, chat flooding with donations and vulgar words accompanied by heart-eyed emojis.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $1000
âgoodgirl. the panties nowâ
[System]
Xx_darkknight_xX tipped $100
âslap that ass babygirlâ
You do a little playful smack, pulling down the thong and kicking it off to the side.
Even with all the system donation notifications coming in, no one takes Königâs place at the top. You listened to him so well. His wrist feels strained from all the jerking off heâs been doing since discovering you. Unable to ignore the way his dick gets all wet and leaky at the mere thought of you at random times of the day. And now, watching you pose in front of the camera naked for him, of course heâs horny as fuck.
Feeling hot in his shirt, he holds it up with his teeth, muffling the way heâs panting like a dog, the light of the monitor shining over his flushed face.
You put on the set he requested, the brief naked moments in the stream leaving everyone paying up for more. The viewers liked the idea of a chase, of working for it. Bunch of pathetic creeps paying their way for you to notice them and make them feel in control when you answer to their little demands.
You take a seat in your chair in a way that gives you leverage for the next part of the live. Legs spread over the handles, pussy glistening under the lighting. The red set really was perfect. Sexy while not constricting the best parts from view.
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $200
âCmon baby show us how wet you areâ
You drag your fingers through your damp folds, gathering wetness on them and showing it to the camera.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âsuck on themâ
You obey, licking your fingers and sucking them into your mouth. Let them imagine how you would suck their cocks before pulling them out to use the slick spit to glide your fingers over your clit. Plenty of users tell you put in your fingers, fuck yourself, spread that pussy for the camera, but you donât actually move to do any of that until he commands you.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $1000
âPlay with your pussy for me schatzâ
So you do, pressing the pads of your fingers to your entrance then dragging them up to rub your clit again. You feel hazy, catching yourself in the act of submission to him thatâs not even a mask for the lens anymore.
Itâs like caught on the little change in behaviour. One step closer to becoming his.
You stare at the request for a few moments, as if debating should you do it, but you find yourself reaching out to press the Accept button without mind. Not caring for losing viewers and profit. He already makes most of your pay check.
[Viewer count:] 1
[Time stamp:] 00:00-00:03
The private chat lights up with his messages:
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Good girl, knew you would do it.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Itâs about time you learned whoâs good for you.
You donât know why it turns you on so much, him having control. It had your walls flutter around nothing and your fingers press harder on your sensitive spot, making you tense up on the chair, awaiting his next chat.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Want to see you cum for me only. Hate sharing.
König fucks his hand to the pace of your hand working to get you off. He watches in trance, gripping his cock tightly upon hearing your moans. Not the performative, high-pitched bullshit you made when you faked it. You really were getting off on this.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:tell me who you belong to. say my name when you cum.
Assuming he meant the screen name, you let out a weak moan of his username. Because really, you didnât know anything about him. It added to the thrill, in a way.
âKönig?âŠnnghâ you shift on the uncomfortable chair, body squirming with the overwhelming sensations. The coil building in your stomach snaps, release overcoming you like never before. It felt vulnerable to be unable to control the real sounds of pleasure youâre making and your bodyâs reactions compared to the act you put on to be more appealing for the viewers. Youâre crying König dumbly, not even sure youâre pronouncing it right, trembling and unrestrained.
Oh fuck, how pretty you were when you let go. He had you coming undone, unraveling before his eyes. His balls feel heavy, tensing as he fucks his hand manically. Heâs huffing, leaned over the setup, watching you still in the highs of your orgasm. Fuck. He cums all over the screen, blurring your image with sticky white. He smears it off to see your face, pink and looking at your own screen for approval in his chat.
He knew the two of you had something real. It just took you a bit more time to accept it.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $5000
âI love you.â
You stare at the message long after you pressed End Stream awkwardly. He wouldâve been hurt if he didnât see how you were whirling.
He closes the CamGirl platform tab, turning on the better show. You looked even more raw and beautiful through the security cameras heâs hidden in your room.
pairing : König x camgirl!reader
rating : explicit (18+)
word count : 1.7k
tags : smut, masturbation, mutual masturbation, webcam/video chat sex, obsession, jealousy, lingerie, stripping, delusional König, possessive König, cameras
summary : König feels more than a little parasocial about his favourite cam girl. in his mind, you were already only his.
a/n : asks and requests are open!
âđâËdivider by @pixopix
The room is always awfully quiet before streams start. It makes you too aware of yourself, or rather, the real self, before you bury that down and put on a perfect smile for the cameras. A smile that shows how ever grateful and happy to see them. Despite not knowing who âtheyâ even are, hiding behind their own screens and rather cringy usernames.
You adjust the lighting and the angle of the camera, checking your hair and makeup one last time before starting your setup. The monitors light up, tons of notifications from the streaming site popping up when you log in. You ignore them, mostly. But one username keeps popping up. WolfeJĂ€ger66. Heâs a regular patron, always tipping generously and buying plenty of stuff from your wishlist, watching your every stream and purchasing the private, VIP streams so often that you rarely have time to fit another in.
You close the notification centre, getting in character before pressing the start stream button.
Tease. Thank. Comply with a smile.
Itâs all it revolves around to keep the audience interested.
Putting on a practiced smile, you press the Go Live button.
The time on your monitor reads 8:03PM. Three minutes late. He notices everything.
âMissed me?â you tease playfully, getting into it as the viewer count goes up.
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $50
âshow us more babyâ
âImpatient tonight, hm?â You drag down the zipper of your sweater down slowly, showing no more than a usual low cut shirt would, leaving the viewers wanting more.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $250
âLose the sweater.â
You play around with the chat, stripping the sweater off and posing for the camera in lingerie thatâs leaving little to imagination. The skimpy piece of lace was something he bought you off your wish list, and his ridiculously high donations always went up whenever you wore something he chose for you.
âWhat do you think about the new set? Did it live up to your expectations, WolfeJĂ€ger?â
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $450
âBetter.â
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $100
âlean over the camera, sexyâ
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $600
âIgnore him, schatz. Canât be so demanding while tipping pocket change.â
König much preferred when you did private streams for him, but he liked proving heâs the best one for you, competing with the other scums. Heâll have you just for himself soon enough.
Stalking you down was easy. Convincing you that you want it is the harder part. And heâs taking his time. He knows youâll see it his way soon.
He reaches out with his hand to his screen, stroking your cheek. How beautiful you were, even through the camera, wearing lingerie he spent his blood money on. It made his pants painfully tighter.
He pulls his cock out of the confinement of his boxer briefs, stroking it slowly and typing clumsily with the other, forgoing capital letters and punctuation marks, not caring for typos.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âshow them what else my money bought youâ
âOh, you want a try-on? That can be arranged.â You wink playfully before getting up from your chair to get all the gift boxes he sent you.
The chat fills up with heart eyed emojis and dirty comments when you turn, ass on display for them. Your movements are all inherently sexy, purely for their gaze. Itâs what gets them to pay up, after all.
You open the luxury boxes, entertaining the chat with filtrations. They leave small tips, asking to see you in this and that set, but you catch yourself waiting for that one user to pop up. And it does. Your screen flashes with little hearts and shiny, over-the-top animations.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 sent a SuperChat Gift
âthe red one schatz. put the halters onâ
The deep red colour was the definition of temptation. The panties were crotchless, a dangerous combination with the sheer bra embroidered with exquisite lacy details. No oneâs going to pay attention to that when your pussy is bare along with your nipples peaking out, but you liked to appreciate beauty where you could find it.
You hold them off for longer, toying with the strap of the bra you have on, pretending youâre having trouble with the buckle. âOnly is someoneâs hands could help me take this off.â You make sounds of frustration that are suggestive, knowing exactly what you were doing. You formed your words in a way that makes every viewer feel as if youâre talking to them. And they love it.
[System]
user1286628 tipped $50
âi could help you with that, sugar ;)â
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âstop feeding into their delusions schatz. take it off for me.â
As if he isnât the most delusional one, you think to yourself.
The bra falls to your lap, views skyrocketing the moment your naked breasts are exposed, chat flooding with donations and vulgar words accompanied by heart-eyed emojis.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $1000
âgoodgirl. the panties nowâ
[System]
Xx_darkknight_xX tipped $100
âslap that ass babygirlâ
You do a little playful smack, pulling down the thong and kicking it off to the side.
Even with all the system donation notifications coming in, no one takes Königâs place at the top. You listened to him so well. His wrist feels strained from all the jerking off heâs been doing since discovering you. Unable to ignore the way his dick gets all wet and leaky at the mere thought of you at random times of the day. And now, watching you pose in front of the camera naked for him, of course heâs horny as fuck.
Feeling hot in his shirt, he holds it up with his teeth, muffling the way heâs panting like a dog, the light of the monitor shining over his flushed face.
You put on the set he requested, the brief naked moments in the stream leaving everyone paying up for more. The viewers liked the idea of a chase, of working for it. Bunch of pathetic creeps paying their way for you to notice them and make them feel in control when you answer to their little demands.
You take a seat in your chair in a way that gives you leverage for the next part of the live. Legs spread over the handles, pussy glistening under the lighting. The red set really was perfect. Sexy while not constricting the best parts from view.
[System]
0_D4ddyD0m69 tipped $200
âCmon baby show us how wet you areâ
You drag your fingers through your damp folds, gathering wetness on them and showing it to the camera.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $800
âsuck on themâ
You obey, licking your fingers and sucking them into your mouth. Let them imagine how you would suck their cocks before pulling them out to use the slick spit to glide your fingers over your clit. Plenty of users tell you put in your fingers, fuck yourself, spread that pussy for the camera, but you donât actually move to do any of that until he commands you.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $1000
âPlay with your pussy for me schatzâ
So you do, pressing the pads of your fingers to your entrance then dragging them up to rub your clit again. You feel hazy, catching yourself in the act of submission to him thatâs not even a mask for the lens anymore.
Itâs like caught on the little change in behaviour. One step closer to becoming his.
You stare at the request for a few moments, as if debating should you do it, but you find yourself reaching out to press the Accept button without mind. Not caring for losing viewers and profit. He already makes most of your pay check.
[Viewer count:] 1
[Time stamp:] 00:00-00:03
The private chat lights up with his messages:
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Good girl, knew you would do it.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Itâs about time you learned whoâs good for you.
You donât know why it turns you on so much, him having control. It had your walls flutter around nothing and your fingers press harder on your sensitive spot, making you tense up on the chair, awaiting his next chat.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:Â Want to see you cum for me only. Hate sharing.
König fucks his hand to the pace of your hand working to get you off. He watches in trance, gripping his cock tightly upon hearing your moans. Not the performative, high-pitched bullshit you made when you faked it. You really were getting off on this.
WolfeJĂ€ger66:tell me who you belong to. say my name when you cum.
Assuming he meant the screen name, you let out a weak moan of his username. Because really, you didnât know anything about him. It added to the thrill, in a way.
âKönig?âŠnnghâ you shift on the uncomfortable chair, body squirming with the overwhelming sensations. The coil building in your stomach snaps, release overcoming you like never before. It felt vulnerable to be unable to control the real sounds of pleasure youâre making and your bodyâs reactions compared to the act you put on to be more appealing for the viewers. Youâre crying König dumbly, not even sure youâre pronouncing it right, trembling and unrestrained.
Oh fuck, how pretty you were when you let go. He had you coming undone, unraveling before his eyes. His balls feel heavy, tensing as he fucks his hand manically. Heâs huffing, leaned over the setup, watching you still in the highs of your orgasm. Fuck. He cums all over the screen, blurring your image with sticky white. He smears it off to see your face, pink and looking at your own screen for approval in his chat.
He knew the two of you had something real. It just took you a bit more time to accept it.
[System]
WolfeJĂ€ger66 tipped $5000
âI love you.â
You stare at the message long after you pressed End Stream awkwardly. He wouldâve been hurt if he didnât see how you were whirling.
He closes the CamGirl platform tab, turning on the better show. You looked even more raw and beautiful through the security cameras heâs hidden in your room.
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