The Modern Warfare 2 Collection │MW2 x Reader

Ghost, König and You

Warnings: 18+, Submissive König, Dominant Ghost, Dominant Reader, Stomach Bulging, Big Dick Ghost and König, Anal Penetration, Dick Riding, Teasing, Unprotected Sex, No Pronouns used for Reader except for 'You'.

König's mouth hung open, his crown threatening to hit the headboard with every harsh thrust of Ghost's hips. He whined and gasped as he clawed at the bed sheets beneath him, trying something – anything – to ground himself. The sheets were coated in his sweat and liquids, perspiration beading on his forehead, mouth agape and drooling.

His bottom half was coated in his pre that had leaked down his shaft. With each slam of your hips against his, thin strands of love would connect the two of you, a wet, slapping sound filling the room, drowning out even a single cohesive thought in König's head.

His weeping cock twitched inside you, bulging in your stomach as Ghost's did in his, throbbing, pulsing, pleading for release. His walls just barely allowed Ghost in, stretched out over his thick cock, a delectable burn sure to remain days after this ordeal. The knot in König's stomach had only grown in these hours of torture, near ripping itself apart with its own size as Ghost's dick did to him, carving a bump inside him.

You hummed, head thrown back against Simon's shoulder as he rutted behind you, shunting you with every savage thrust of his hips, making your hips rock against König's. "Such a good boy for us, Köni," you told him, your eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his chest, feeling his quivering, pounding heart beneath your fingers.

König could only moan, the ability to form full sentences having abandoned him long ago. Verging on tears, he couldn't take the forceful slamming of your hips, his walls tightening with each plough from Ghost. Simon's grip on his thick thighs, flesh peaking between the valleys of his fingers, did little to ground König.

"I c-cant–" his voice was thin, high, laced with the need to sob. Ghost shushed him.

"Shhh, it's okay, Baby," came Simon's baritone. He grunted, ceasing for no longer than a second as he withdrew an inch or two, taking another angle and ramming back into König. König near-shrieked, his yelp tailing off into a moan as you leant down and pressed your lips to his, swallowing his doubts, his cries.

"S'okay, sweet boy," you whispered. Your lips trailed from his down to his jaw, nestling in a soft spot between the bone and his neck. You lapped at the sweat that collected there. König shivered.

Simon's hands slithered up from König's thighs to your waist. His hands wrapped around your middle, and you both groaned. He could feel König's cock pulsing in your stomach, a bump forming where you'd trapped him. He pressed down, making you whine and König drawl, moan, his back arching into you. Simon didn't let up, a sly smile crossing his face.

One hand took yours and placed it upon König's stomach, slick with sweat and something sticky. There, you felt Ghost piercing him, filling him past full. König whined, cowered, as your fingers crept along his middle. Looking back at Ghost, he nodded, and with a force you pressed down on König; not enough to crush the man impaling him, but enough that a strangled groan emerged from him, and a whimper from König.

Simon leaned in, rested his head upon your shoulder. "Takin' him so well, Angel," and he squeezed your waist, and, loud and sharp, you cried out, clenching even tighter. König, unable to handle the torment – the torture – yelled, his voice urgent and desperate as the plea that it was.

"Please, I can't take anymore!" he cried. He tried thrusting up, but you pressed down on his stomach, making him yelp and become docile once more. "Please," his voice was a whisper. Between slitted, tearful eyes, he looked up at you. "Please, mein Schatz – please let me finish,"