#König cod

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

About Damn Time

Pairing: König x Hyper!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, pining, Reader is super energetic and blunt, König is a shy blushing mess, mutual crushing, kissing, chaos, zoo date, Reader steamrolls König with love

Author's Note: This one is for all of us who are sunshine gremlins in love with soft, slow-burn giants. König didn’t stand a chance. Let me know if you'd like me to make a Third Date !

Summary: You’ve had a crush on König for months, and he’s clearly into you—but he still hasn’t asked you out. You finally hit your limit and let him have it… and somehow, that leads to the sweetest first (and second) date.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI+

König was slow.

Painfully slow.

He liked to hover—like a very large, extremely quiet, heavily armored ghost. You’d catch him watching you from across the room, eyes wide behind his mask, and when you waved? He’d practically scramble away like a shy puppy.

You were the opposite. You were color, chaos, and caffeine. König once told you—very softly—that your laugh was like sunshine. Which was great.

You weren’t even mad about it at first. He was sweet. Gentle. A seven-foot-tall ghost of a man who hovered in doorways, brought you coffee when you looked tired, and complimented your earrings in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You liked him. A lot. But the way he pined? You were starting to lose your mind.

Except it had been six months and he still hadn’t asked you out.

Six. Months.

Six months of soft staring, accidental hand brushes, and dumb excuses to stand within three feet of you.

And now, you were alone with him in the gear room. Again. Just the two of you. Awkward silence. Tension so thick it could be cut with a spoon. Safe to say, you patience had officially expired.

You snapped.

“Okay, NOPE,” you blurted, spinning on your heel. “I can’t do this anymore.”

König startled, blinking down at you like a deer in headlights. “What-?”

“You,” you pointed at him, jabbing your finger into the center of his chest. “You. Big, broody, sweet-as-hell you. You’ve been making goo-goo eyes and those big moony eyes have been staring at me for six months , König. MONTHS. You bring me coffee. You save me a seat And yet! No dates. No flirting. Just! Pining!”

His eyes went wide behind the mask.

Silence is what greeted you as you continued.

“You bring me snacks. You compliment my weird frog earrings. You fixed my locker when it squeaked, and you gave me your hoodie when I was cold.” You started pacing like a woman on the edge. “And you look at me like I hung the moon, but what? You were just gonna… hover forever?”

“…Yes?” he said weakly.

You stopped pacing and stared at him. “Are you in love with me or what?!”

Silence. His ears turned red.

“…Yes?” he mumbled, barely audible.

You nearly short-circuited.

“THEN WHY HAVEN’T YOU ASKED ME OUT?!”

König flinched like you’d slapped him—but not in a bad way. In a terrified but also amazed that this is happening way.

“I—I didn’t think you’d say yes…”

“Why the hell would I say no?! Have you met me?! I’m obsessed with you! You're like a giant, sweet human wall I wanna climb like a tree!”

A pause.

He made a noise like a kettle boiling. “You want to climb me?”

“FOCUS, KÖNIG.”

He looked so dazed. His shoulders twitched like he was fighting the urge to cover his face with both hands.

He just stared at you like you were the sun itself.

“I– I wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he stammered. “I had a plan. Candlelight. A good restaurant. I… wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart melted right there in your chest.

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quieter. “That’s… stupidly cute.”

“I am stupid,” he muttered.

“No, no, no—just slow. Like, emotionally constipated slow.”

He looked at you with the softest damn eyes.

Then, very softly: “Would you… like to go out with me? Tonight?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes. And you’re buying me pasta. And wine. And dessert. Because you made me wait this long.”

“…Deal.”

——

The date was perfect.

That night, he showed up with flowers. Held your hand awkwardly across the table. Blushed like mad when you called him handsome.

You talked so much the waiter had to come back three times.

And at the end of the night, when he walked you home, he stood frozen at your door until you yanked down his mask stood on your tiptoes and kissed him square on the mouth.

He didn’t move for ten full minutes.

——

Now it was the next day.

And König—poor, sweet, emotionally-overwhelmed König—was sitting on a bench outside HQ, sipping coffee and trying to breathe, when you practically launched yourself onto the seat next to him.

“OKAY,” you chirped. “So! I’ve been thinking.”

Oh no.

Oh no.

König turned his head sloooowly, like you’d pulled him from another dimension. “About…?”

“Our next date!”

His coffee almost spilled. “W–What? You mean—”

“Yes! So listen—first I thought axe-throwing, but then I was like wait, he probably needs more calm vibes. Then I thought museum. But then I remembered you love animals, so—zoo date. Boom. Also there’s a butterfly garden there, and I wanna see a butterfly land on your big scary arm like a Disney princess.”

König made a strange wheezing sound. “I—what—”

“AND,” you kept going, completely unbothered, “I already picked out an outfit. It’s flowy. It twirls. You’re gonna die when you see it.”

König stared at you like you’d just proposed marriage. “I—what is happening—”

“AND,” you continued, holding up your phone, “I already picked my outfit. It’s flowy. It twirls. You’re gonna die when you see it.”

He was red all the way up to his ears. His coffee cup was shaking.

“Are you okay?” you asked sweetly, head tilted.

“I… am just trying to keep up.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

He choked.

——

At the zoo, you twirled in your sundress and demanded that König try Dippin’ Dots. He looked like he was in physical pain trying not to stare at your legs. He was so flustered when you linked your arm through his that he forgot how to walk in a straight line.

A butterfly did land on him. You screamed. He panicked. Then you took fifteen pictures and set one as your lock screen.

He couldn’t stop staring at it.

You fed giraffes. He blushed when you said his arms looked sexy while lifting the food bucket.

You kissed him again near the tiger enclosure. He nearly dropped his drink.

At one point, you clung to his arm and said, “I like you so much it’s insane, König.”

He looked down at you like you’d hung the stars.

“…I’ve never been so happy and scared in my life,” he whispered.

You grinned.

And when he walked you home, looking dazed and smitten, you hugged his waist, looked up at him with a big grin and whispered

“Get ready, König. I already have Date Three planned.”

He swallowed hard. “Do I get to know what it is?”

“Nope.”

You skipped away toward your door.

König stared after you, totally stunned.

“I’m gonna marry her,” he muttered.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[caoimhewrites]

Firefighters

TF 141 + König as firefighters who help you out

CW: Mentions of fires/floods, minor injuries, mainly fluff WC: 1k

Ghost: You stood outside your office building, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to shake off the shock. The fire had been small, and contained quickly, but the panic was real. A shadow loomed over you, and you looked up to see one of the firefighters who had ushered you out of the building. “Sit still,” he said, voice commanding yet oddly comforting. You hadn’t realized until now how badly your arm hurt. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes flicking over the small, minor burn before he gently took your arm in his gloved hand. "It's not too bad, but we'll need to take you to the hospital anyway," he mutters, eyes focused on the bandages. “Thanks… for helping,” you murmured, wincing slightly as the burn stung. Ghost glanced up, his eyes softening. “It’s my job.” You feel your cheeks heating up slightly. "Thanks anyway," you give him a small, bashful smile. "You uh... see a lot of fires?" You regret it the second it leaves your mouth. Do you see a lot of fires? Seriously? Out of everything you could have said, why that? Before you faint from embarrassment, he chuckles. "How did you know?" You breathe a sigh of relief at his humor, your eyes meeting his brown ones, "Just a feeling."

König: You stood in your front yard, eyes fixed on the tree in front of you. Your cat was perched on a branch near the top, her wide eyes with fear. "Mrs Platypus!" you called, trying to coax her down. She meowed in response but refused to move. Panic rose in your chest. You'd tried everything, calling, shaking treats, even using the neighbor's ladder, but nothing worked. “You need help?” You turned to see a towering figure approaching. You swear you've never seen a man so tall. "I- yes." You nod, your eyes glued to the skyscraper of a firefighter. "I didn't call anyone or anything," you add. You were surprised to see a firefighter there on your lawn. "I'm off duty, I live next door. I thought you could use some help." he says simply and effortlessly reaches up, pulling your cat out of the tree. "What's her name?" You let out a chuckle of embarrassment, "Mrs Platypus..." He lets out an amused bark of laughter. "Really? Now that's one I definitely haven't heard before." He gently hands you the cat and smiles. You notice he has quite a nice smile. The way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Thanks. I thought I would never get her down," you thank him. He just smiles and says, "Anytime."

Price: The screech of metal against metal echoed in the dim light of the elevator. You pressed the button repeatedly, but the display above the door only flickered. Your heart raced, panic bubbling up as you tugged uselessly at the sliding doors. "Come on," you muttered, trying to calm your breath. You have no idea how long you've been in there. The emergency button naturally wasn't working and the service on your phone was pathetically weak. You were sure you were going to have a breakdown just before you finally got help on the phone. "Hey! You in there?" You froze for a moment. Was that… a man’s voice? "Yeah, I’m stuck," you called back, your voice laced with anxiety. "I need help. Please, can you get me out?" You heard the loud wrenching of the doors as they are pried open. They snapped open just enough for you to see the man on the other side. "Hey, love. You alright in there?" If your jaw dropped any wider it would be on the floor. He's gorgeous. "I'm fine," you nod rapidly, suddenly feeling like every word you've ever known has dripped out of your brain. "Sorry we took so long, love. Busy day." He gives you a wink and pries the doors open wider, extending a hand to you to help you out. You give him a small thank you as you take his hand and step out. "How ya feelin'?" He asks softly as he gazes down at you. You stammer for a moment, "good... great, excellent," you say rapidly, blushing like a tomato.

Gaz: The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burnt wood and fabric stinging your nose. Firefighters moved around you in a blur, shouting orders, directing people away from the ruins of the apartment complex. A hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. You looked up, blinking through the haze, and met the gaze of a firefighter in full gear. “Hey, you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and comforting. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My apartment… it’s gone. All my stuff was in there." He nodded, stepping closer. “We’ve got the fire under control now,” he said, eyes scanning the wreckage, “but I’m sorry about your place. That’s a tough break.” You sighed and nodded, "I'll figure it out." He thinks for a second, "You know, me and my team are heading back to the station after this. We can give you a ride somewhere if you want. We can even put on the sirens for you," He says teasingly and smiles down at you warmly.

Soap: The storm had ravaged everything. Floodwaters had quickly turned your neighborhood into a river. Luckily your house wasn't damaged too badly but you definitely couldn't stay. You were lost in thought when you heard the loud knock at your door. When you opened it, there stood a firefighter, drenched from head to toe, with a look of determination in his eyes. His dark, mohawk was soaked flat on his head, and his uniform was heavy with water, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hey, you alright in here?” His voice was warm, calm, but laced with urgency. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I—I don’t know what to do." He cuts you off, “Don’t worry, love. I’m here now,” he said, stepping inside without hesitation, boots squelching in the water. His steady presence was an instant relief. "We've got time," he says reassuringly as he gently helps you out the door. He catches you when you stumble through the water. "Careful, love. I got you."

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[waltyamart]

do u think he likes cats

[dmitriene]

reader enjoying könig's perverted tendencies and just overall degeneracy. encouraging it even 😞😞 sighs

cw: established freak relationship, jerking on underwear, watching on cameras, exhibitionism, spitting and overall gross things.

könig makes it all so maddeningly easy, to succumb to the way he views and acts in the framework of your relationship, all this casual filth, emotional pressure, an act of a petulant, needy child that goes all angry and teary eyed when he won't get what he wants, and it'll be you, because he needs you, every single second of his breathing, and you never told him no, because you can't, because his behavior makes something in your tummy churn, tight and searing hot.

a man of many, twisted desires, and how he cannot grow crazier, swallow down greedy gulps of drool that fills his mouth up to the brim, when you welcome his behavior, encourage this marrow rotting degeneracy of his, let him jerk off to the pair of your panties which he stole out of your closet without a shame to his face or eyes, the first time you invited him to your apartment, if you've already kissed, why can't he coat the thing you wear closest to your pussy with the mark of his utter devotion to you?

sometimes he does something completely strange, disgusting, like returning from a long time away deployed, with a bag full of boxed cameras which he later hangs in the corners of the apartment, this is your place, your sanctuary, and yet, könig tears in your personal space with a doggish grin and his blown baby blue eyes full of depraved, unhealthy possession, rasping that he wants to be able to see you even while away, and how can you say no to him, when he just misses you, needs a clear image of you whenever he wants, something to cum to.

you let könig do anything his rotten brain would come up with, submitting to every whim, like spit globs of saliva over your wide stretched cunt, tender lips and folds fluttering, dancing around the fat tip of his engorged cock, spread with a rough sting at the way he bottoms in almost forcefully, all rough, ramming his bruisingly strong hips forward, skin slapping on skin to burn into your body, fluids mixing in a gross, tacky mess, over your spasming cunt, your bouncing breasts, your parted mouth, clogged with precome soiled, calloused fingers.

grope you in any public place, while onlookers look on in disgust or judgement, but his curving, lapping tongue is already down your throat, licking over each crevice of your gums and teeth, stealing your breath, biting into the tender flesh of your swelling lips, swallowing your muted moans, choking, wet keens, until he could force his tense thigh between your own, quivering one's, rub up against your mound, watching how your body goes pliant, drawing out a pleased rumble from deep within his chest.

könig's fixation on you verges on obsession, but it's feels flattering, the way he whines and paws at you whenever you're running a little behind schedule at coming back home, gushes about how much he adores your looks and sweet, willing nature, while already nuzzling in between your spreading legs, calls you all sorts of german endearments, silly, sometimes too childlike nicknames, but as long as he's happy, you are too, and he's always are, as long as he can fuck your pussy or shove you down his eager, rugged face.

perhaps you would have been better off if you had just ran away from him the moment you laid eyes on him, not started dating, not allowed him to kiss you, because a guy behaving like a badly behaved dog isn't exactly the ideal partner, but nevertheless, there is something about him that you find appealing, not only his enormous cock and massive frame.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[machveil]

your friends thinking your boyfriend, König, is actually your pet. you haven’t introduced him to them yet, just offhand comments about, “Oh— it’s getting a little late, I should go home. König probably misses me.”, or, “Oh, König would love this! [pet bowl for his cat]”. they hear you talk about how you have to be back home early, “He gets stressed out if I’m gone too long.”. maybe he’s a big dog breed? a poor thing with separation anxiety. “König fell asleep on my lap last night and I couldn’t get up for, like, two hours.”, your friends nodding along, they know the rules - you don’t get up if your pet falls asleep on you. “He got into my snacks last night. I couldn’t really be mad, his eyes got all wet and sad.”, awe, your pet has killer puppy dog eyes. with a little training your pet shouldn’t get into your food

color them shocked when they ask to see a photo and it’s a behemoth of a man, “Isn’t he cute? We’re going on a walk later.”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere König Would Include:

He's mostly like a puppy, but when he starts to actually fall for the person he's obsessing over, he starts get a bit more controlling. He starts to try to keep you close, and make you pay attention almost exclusively to him.

He gets very easily jealous, and starts to threaten anyone that even tries to make a move on you. Whenever alone with you, he starts to touch you, which he doesn't do in public cause he doesn't want to look like a "creep", but he doesn't always succeed in restraining himself.

He also has a bad habit of glaring/staring at people. When he's alone with you, he's pretty clingy but tries to keep it to a minimum. He's a bit of a perv, but he doesn't really act on it, so he seems like he's sweet and innocent.

He's also very protective, and is quick to defend. He might try to justify his obsession as caring deeply about you, and even become possessive, sometimes borderline abusive.

He's usually kind of quiet, but very observant. He's very sensitive to your mannerisms and how you interact with others, so if you even seem to be getting along with another guy who isn't him, he gets really suspicious and starts glaring at the guy.

When he starts to get more into the yandere state, his personality starts to slowly change. He gets even more controlling and even a bit possessive. He starts to become paranoid that you'll leave him, so he keeps trying to cling to you, and trying to get you away from any other men to try to eliminate any kind of competition. He starts to get really anxious if you're away from him, even if it's for a short amount of time.

In front of others, he's actually really good at acting calm and not showing his true emotions. He can have an entire conversation with another guy without any hint of jealousy showing. But as soon as the guy leaves, he immediately starts to glare in their direction and mutter under his breath about how he doesn't like how they were looking at you.

He starts to require a decent amount of reassurance. He doesn't straight up ask for it, which he doesn't want to admit he needs it, but he definitely requires it. When he wants some, he starts to cling onto you so that you're paying attention to him, while subtly hinting that he wants you to reassure him, but not saying it outright.

When he has to give reassurance, he actually really likes it. He loves showering you with compliments and sweet words just to make sure you feel good. He also usually gives physical affection when he's giving reassurance; like holding you tight or gently running his fingers through your hair.

For rewards, he loves spoiling you. He starts to spend more money on you than himself and tries to get you all sorts of things that he thinks you'll want. He just loves seeing you happy, and seeing you be happy because of something he did, always makes him overjoyed.

He's not very physical at all. When he's punishing you, he just takes things away. He won't let you use your phone/computer for a bit of a time, and if he's really pissed he will just flat out ignore you and pretend like you're not there until he thinks you've learned your lesson. Also, he's very good at the silent treatment, which is probably one of his most cruel tactics.

He's very physically affectionate with you, and will always take any chance he gets to hold you in some way or gently trace his fingers along your body, especially if he's trying to comfort you. He'll also just randomly give you tight hugs and cuddles, and sometimes will pull you onto his lap and trap you there so that you can't escape.

He puts a decent amount of effort into dates. He knows it's cliché, but he likes taking you to romantic places like a nice little restaurant, or an outdoor area so that you can stargaze together. He'll make sure the place is empty, so you guys can have some privacy. He also loves planning movie nights at home for you guys so you can cuddle together and watch a movie or two.

Most of the time, they don't even know he's a yandere. He's just very good at hiding it. They just think he's a guy that's really whipped for you. So they just assume that he's a really sweet guy. In reality, they don't know how intense his feelings actually are, and they don't know how crazy he can get if they get too friendly with you.

He definitely starts to become more reliant on you. The fact that he's a yandere causes him to start to completely hyperfixate on you, and cause him to want you around as much as possible. He wants to keep you as close as possible, and usually will want to sleep in the same bed as you before you're actually even together.

It's not that huge of a shrine, just a small one tucked in the back of a closet. It contains pictures of you, any notes you've given him, and other trinkets or stuff you gave him that have some kind of importance to him. He will definitely flip out if you accidentally find it.

He has no moral issues about it, and would gladly kill for you. He'd probably even enjoy it. The only catch is that he doesn't want to go to jail for it as to be so far away from you, so he tries to keep his kills very secret.

He definitely wants to get married. He wants to tie the knot with you as quickly as possible, once he thinks you're ready to commit. He will obsess over everything related to marriage. Ring, the honeymoon location, how the ceremony should be, what he's going to wear, and he would probably obsessively plan the proposal, to make it perfect.

He absolutely wants to have kids with you. He would want to have a decent number of them. He would be a sweet dad, but would also be really overprotective of them. He definitely wants to be a stay at home dad though, so that he can spend more time with the kids and you.

If you didn't want children. He would probably try to find some sort of compromises, like adopting. If you couldn't even have children at all though, that would be where's his kindness starts to slip away. He would get very frustrated, though he most likely wouldn't take his anger out on you, he would just become even more controlling because of his frustration.

"I don't want anyone else touching/looking at/talking to/being near you. You're mine, and ONLY mine. I don't want to share you at all. I want to keep you all to myself, so no one else can even think about getting with you. You're too cute for the outside world. You belong only to me."

Blindfolds - Would be into using blindfolds on you to make you more vulnerable and at his mercy, even more so than normal.

Marking - Would definitely be into leaving marks on your body, such as love bites, to show ownership over you, especially if others can see.

Dom/Sub - Enjoys being dominated, but since he has control issues, he can't really let himself go that easily, so it's kinda difficult for him to give up control to you.

Light Bondage - He would love to tie you up with ribbons or use silk to keep your hands behind your back. He also would love to keep you in a cute position like frog tie.

Light Choking - He'd love to just have his hand around your neck or hold some of your hair so that way he can pull slightly.

Spanking - He would definitely love to make you whine in pain with his hand, and he would probably use different things for it, like a paddle or a crop. He will also most likely make you count the smacks. He also would love to just randomly smack your ass as well.

[pangsit-goreng]

Manhandled

I just colored my old work

[carbondioxda]

a/n: thankful for my six years of learning german (I have no idea how to introduce myself)

c/w: König headcannons/drabble, mentions of pillow talk, 18+

As someone european who’s first language definetly isn’t english, I don’t think König would aggressively spit german at you mid sentence like he does in a lot of fanfiction. I’ve never met a bilingual person who suddenly starts talking to an english speaking person in their native language. Neither did I ever do that, unless it was out of spite.

But he forgets words in english. Needs to think before making a point sometimes because how was that one term he wanted to say?

You hear his german when he talks to himself. Rambles under his breath when doing paperwork or cooking, doing anything by himself really.

Hisses Scheiße whenever something goes wrong, whether would that be a minor inconvenience or a fuck-up during a mission.

Calls Horangi ,,Arschgeige” or ,,Arsch mit ohren” whenever he tells you about some shit they pulled together. Tried to tell you what it means, but accurately translating a ,,butt-violin” is tricky.

Gets excited if you blurt out a sentence in german to him, correctly or not. Even if you butcher the pronounciation or fuck up the grammar, he’s gonna be happy to pretend you’re a C2-level, talented speaker just to hear it again.

He talks in his sleep. Full on conversations that don’t make sense even in german. If you ask him what he meant, he’s gonna respond some foreign bullshit as well, maybe throw some unintelligible english into the mix.

And you always notice how different his voice sounds when he’s speaking english and how it is when he’s speaking german. English is sharper, his accent is impossible to miss. German is calmer, somehow, despite the aggressive nature of the language he makes the words flow like water.

You’ll hear him hiss out some german during your time in bed. You know it’s gotta be dirty by the way he says everything with intention, but he’s never been brave enough to translate everything to you. He chuckles when your whines and cute ,,w-what? w-what does that mean?” turn into a mess of whimpers and moans. You’ve memorised his ,, Ich wette, Du wüßtest gerne, was ich sage, richtig?” (I bet you wish you knew what I was saying, right?.)

[caoimhewrites]

Last Name

How TF 141 + König react to you Introducing yourself with their last name. Idea from @cherie-doll

CW: None

WC: 788

Ghost wasn't sure he heard you right. Perhaps he was hearing things? Because no way in hell did he hear you correctly... right? He’d been with you for a long while now, had fought beside you, had trusted you with his life, but hearing you say it, hearing you introduce yourself like that... it rattled him in a way he didn’t quite understand. The words hung in the air, a soft declaration that struck him more than he was willing to admit. You had never used his last name before, and the weight of it seemed almost surreal. It was a simple thing, a word, yet it felt like a thousand pounds resting on his chest. There was a moment of stillness, as if the world around him had frozen just to let the truth settle in. His own name had never been much more than a mask, a title for the man who was always in the shadows. And yet, with that simple claim, you had just made it yours.

König was sat on the couch in your shared apartment. You were angrily arguing on the phone to your bank after losing your card in Munich on vacation. König's head snapped to look at you when you told the man over the phone your name. His heart skipped a beat. His eyes locked on you as the weight of those words hit him, something soft and unspoken settling deep in his heart. He had heard you talk about taking his last name before, had known you planned to, but hearing it come from your lips now, casual and final. It felt different. It felt permanent. He hadn't realized you had hung up the phone and walked over to him, staring down at his bewildered face. "König?" you lean a bit closer, eyes meeting his. He takes a moment to just look at you. "Ja... yes, yes I'm fine. Perfectly fine" he smiles wide, feeling content in the knowledge that you were his and he was yours.

Price wrapped an arm around you waist, giving you a gentle, loving squeeze. Hearing his surname fall from your lips was like a drug, one he never wanted to quit. Just one hit and he was hooked. The way it sounded rolling off your tongue, so natural, so intimate, made something in his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. You paused, noticing the way his grip tightened around you, the faint shudder that ran through his body. "You okay?" you asked, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes softened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back in a slow, comforting rhythm. "Never thought I'd hear it, love," he finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Price... Sounds good coming from you."

Gaz was grinning ear to ear like a fool. He had brought you to base to meet the rest of the task force. You had insisted. "Kyle pleaseeeee. I'll be in and out, I swear," you had pleaded with him the night before. You even made a batch of cookies to win his friends over. You were standing in the middle of the room, trying to shake off the nerves that had settled in your stomach as Kyle introduced you. What Kyle hadn't expected was for you to stop him when he introduced you. A puzzled look settled over his face as he turned his head to look at you. The name "Garrick" slipped past your lips after your name. “Babe?” Kyle’s voice was a little unsure as he squeezed you a bit tighter, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together your unexpected declaration. You gave him a small, almost shy smile. “I mean... that is my last name now, right?”

Soap stood beside you in the little tchotchke shop that you love so much. You've spent a ridiculous amount of time and money here and no matter how many times you dragged Johnny through the store he just never understood it. He's distracted himself at the checkout, gazing off at some dorky pins with pictures of cats when he heard the name "Mactavish" come from you when you give the woman behind the counter your name for your member discount. He felt the world go still for a moment, his heart jumping in his chest. When you say it again, spelling it out for the woman, he thinks he might drop to the floor in a big puddle. He blinked several times, trying to bring himself back to reality. "Mactavish" he mumbled to himself and smiled softly, gazing at you. You know, maybe he really likes this store after all.

[amaranthinespirit]

könig is determined to breed you (p!link)

his pace isn't nice, its straight mean as he pounds his thick, meaty cock into your drooling warmth, desperate to put a baby in your womb. he's not gentle about it either, mind racing and going dumb at the thought, hastily working to make it happen.

your tummy bulges with the way he sheathes his entire bulbous cock in your tight hole, spongy walls constricting around him, feeling every ridge and vein as you hug him tight. his angry, red tip punches against your cervix, ready to spurt his thick load into your sweet cunt.

he knows you'll let him, you'll let him do whatever he wants as he fucks you stupid, jackhammering deeper and deeper with relentless pace. the backs of your thighs reddening and your plush rear bouncing against his hips. his full balls slap against your clit, making you cry out into the bedding, saliva leaking from your lips.

above you, he moans incessantly, pussy-drunk and whipped as he mindlessly humps you, large, rough hands grabbing at your hips, so tight it might bruise.

he mumbles words you can't quite hear, feeling drooling saliva drip from his lips down onto your bare shoulder, running down your back. his jaw is slack, head tilted back and pupils blown.

it doesn't take long for him to fill you full of his seeds, spurting thick ropes of his white, creamy cum to fill your sweet pussy, coating your walls and leaving you full and satisfied. he pulls out to watch it drip out of you, calloused hands pulling your cheeks apart as he watches your slit leak with his release and drip onto the bed. he takes two thick fingers, smearing it across your folds before fucking it back inside you, hoping it takes.

[machveil]

daily König sketch🌸✨I’m multitasking actually, drew this while gambling in Wuthering Waves

[m1cr0-bats]

The one time I actually start and finish something COD related and it's not even Ghost related 💀

[elks-eye]

I feel like König's anxiety brims on paranoia. I feel like he's less anxious around strangers that he doesn't have to interact with directly (ie enemies he kills on the field). However, he would be anxious to go to the doctor, because what if the doctor prescribed him a med that hurts him, or what if the lady at the front desk takes his insurance information (given that he's getting healthcare in the USA, which I doubt he is I'm simply pulling from my own experience). Going to the store, what if the clerk steals his banking information. Being in a team, what if his teammates turn on him and hurt him. His anxiety, in my opinion, would be more interpersonal, because he knows he's big and strong and intimidating, and that he would really be hurt by the people who deal with his sensitive information.

[whocaresabouttactical]

eat me whole

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

PORN DIRECTOR KÖNIG

nsfw. 40s könig. come eating. pussy slapping. voyeurism. manhandling. degradation. squirting. sex work.

you never planned on doing porn.

you don't think anyone does, really. you had a whole different life mapped out— degree, stable job, retirement.

but college was bleeding you dry. bills stacked faster than you could pay them, textbooks cost more than your monthly groceries, and your financial aid office had the efficiency of a broken vending machine. part-time jobs barely kept the lights on. dinner was whatever was cheap and lasted the longest.

you worked, studied, scraped by, but it felt more like drowning in slow motion.

camming started as an experiment. a shot in the dark born from desperation.

you bought a cheap ring light from amazon, found a secondhand webcam on facebook marketplace, and set up your little filming space in the corner of your apartment. it was nothing fancy. the lighting was bad, the camera wasn’t great, and instead of a tripod you had a stack of books.

but it worked.

you slipped into the only matching lingerie set you owned— soft pink lace, delicate ribbons, tiny bows stitched in all the right places. sheer enough to tease, but still leaving just enough to the imagination. the bra straps slipped down your shoulders as you posed in front of the mirror, lips parted, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

picking the best ones, you captioned them with something playful then posted them to onlyfans, shut your laptop, and forgot about it. you weren’t expecting much. maybe a few subscribers, a little extra cash, nothing major.

then, your account blew up.

someone with a bit of reach had apparently found your photos and posted them to a a ddlg subreddit, and suddenly you were everywhere.

at first, you didn’t notice. but when you woke up to hundreds of new notifications, dms, and tips flooding in overnight, you started digging.

that’s when you saw it. a post on reddit. thousands of upvotes. hundreds of comments dissecting your photos in excruciating detail.

[r/ddlg] found this new onlyfans girl and i'm losing my mind. she’s so soft. look at her. look at her.

🔺14.3k upvotes 💬 793 comment

u/daddysfavorite456: this is the most perfect little babygirl i’ve ever seen wtf

🔺6.2k

u/sirspanksalot: the way she’s tugging her panties down just a little… i need a moment

🔺4.9k

u/subsugarplum: her little pout in the third pic is actually ruining my life

🔺3.3k

u/softdom_daddy: how do we make sure she never pays for anything again in her life?

🔺7.1k

your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled. every detail of your photos was being analyzed. obsessed over.

the way you tilted your head just slightly, eyes wide and doe-like. the way your fingers curled in the hem of your panties, like you were hesitating. like you needed permission. the little pout in the last photo, lower lip caught between your teeth, the faintest furrow in your brows.

suddenly, your subscriber count was doubling by the hour.

new subscribers flooded in overnight. your follower count jumped by thousands. dms piled up, requests, tips, compliments, outright begging.

"you're perfect. please let me take care of you." ($20 tip)

"you’re the softest little thing i’ve ever seen." ($50 tip)

"tell me you do custom videos. i’ll pay whatever." ($100 tip)

the sudden influx of attention was overwhelming. you barely had time to process it before people were demanding more.

demand skyrocketed. they were practically clawing at your metaphorical door, begging for more content, more variety— more, more, more.

for now, solo work was fine. it was safe. comfortable. easy to control. but you knew it wouldn’t be enough forever. you saw it in the comments, in the messages, in the ever-growing list of requests. they wanted more than just you and a camera. they wanted another presence. another body in the frame.

you debated your options. a studio would be the safest bet. you had the budget now— painstakingly built, every small tip, every renewal adding up until you finally had enough that you didn't need to comprise comfort.

but finding the right studio was another thing entirely.

you didn’t want the overproduced, garish lights and cheap theatrics of mainstream porn. you wanted subtlety. intimacy. something with taste. good lighting, soft edits, angles that captured the feeling rather than just the act.

something that matched the persona you had so carefully built.

you thought about it for weeks before finally bringing it up to valeria, a girl you often had collabs with.

she tilted her head when you mentioned it. "professional production..? you know there are a lot of seedy guys out there."

you nodded, worrying your lip between your teeth. you’d done enough research to know that most so-called "professional" setups were just glorified scams, with sleazy directors who treated performers like props.

valeria watched you for a second, then clicked her tongue. "but, if you ever actually follow through, i know a guy. a lot of the girls have worked with him before. big name in the business. respects his actors. good guy." she pulled out her phone. "i’ll send you his portfolio. put in a good word."

you meet könig a few weeks later, after countless back-and-forth emails, late-night calls hammering out details, discussions about setups, plot points, pricing. every conversation had been strictly professional so far and you appreciated the distinct lack of attempts to try and get in your pants.

you don’t expect to spot him the moment you step into the airbnb you rented for the shoot, but there he is, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crew. and the first thing that strikes you isn’t his height (though jesus, he’s massive). it’s how out of place he looks.

he doesn’t carry himself like someone in the industry. doesn’t exude that easy sleaze, that over-familiar smirk you’ve come to expect from men in this business. no tight black tee straining over biceps, no carefully curated air of supremacy with just a hint of nicotine.

instead, he looks like someone’s dad who got lost on his way to a hardware store and somehow ended up in the adult industry instead.

his glasses are perched high on the bridge of his nose, pushed up with the absentminded shove of a knuckle. his sweater— soft, thick, comfortable— hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with silver hair. he’s dressed like he should be standing at a backyard grill, not directing an erotic film.

he’s older than you expected. forty, according to his portfolio, and he wears it well. silver threading through black, crow’s feet at the corners of sharp, washed-out blue eyes. his nose is crooked— like it had been broken once and never quite set right— makes his face look lived-in, a little rough around the edges. his stubble is light, a soft dusting of salt and pepper.

he looks warm.

he’s talking to someone. one of the crew, maybe, head dipped slightly, listening intently. but even hunched, even relaxed, his sheer size makes him loom.

and then the door clicks shut behind you, and he hears it. könig's head lifts, pale blue eyes settling on you in an instant.

he excuses himself with a quiet murmur. hands tucked into the front pocket of his pants, broad shoulders rolling slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, less imposing.

it doesn’t work.

“good to finally meet you,” he says, accent curling soft in his words.

oh, you think. you hadn’t expected that, either.

his voice is deep, just shy of being harsh. it's a far cry from the sharp tone you’d imagined after hearing him speak over the phone. there’s something smoother about it in person, a warmth undercutting the rough edges.

you shift the tray of coffee in your hands, balancing it carefully before setting it down on the small folding table near the entrance.

“brought coffee for everyone,” you say, wringing your hands because you refuse to brush them off on your dress.

he glances down at the cups, and for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.

“thoughtful,” he murmurs, and though his face remains unreadable, you can hear the approval in his voice.

you exhale, trying to shake off the nervous energy thrumming in your chest, and clear your throat. “figured caffeine would help. don’t wanna be the reason your crew collapses mid-shoot.”

könig huffs something close to a chuckle, tipping his head toward the set-up behind him. “they’ve worked under worse conditions.”

you’re not sure what that means, but before you can ask, he gestures for you to follow him further into the space.

the next few minutes are easy. professional. you go over the shot list, the angles he’s planning, how he likes to work— efficient and minimal retakes unless absolutely necessary. he asks about your preferences, what you don’t want, what you do.

it’s…comfortable. smoother than you expected. he’s patient, but direct. no wasted words, no unnecessary small talk, just the work. you like that.

and then your phone rings.

you pull it from your pocket without thinking, glancing at the name on the screen. simon riley. your co-star. you press accept, bringing the phone to your ear.

“hey, you on your way?” you ask, already stepping away from könig, mind half on the conversation you’d just been having.

but simon doesn’t answer right away. there’s a beat of silence. “can’t make it.”

your stomach drops. you stop short, pulse spiking. “what?”

“somethin’ came up. won’t be able to get there.”

you glance at könig, breath stalling in your throat. this cannot be happening.

“simon, i can’t reschedule,” you hiss, stepping further away, out of earshot. “i already paid for the location, the crew’s already here-”

“nothin’ i can do, sweetheart,” he interrupts, not unkind. “’m sorry.”

but sorry doesn’t fix this. sorry doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t shoot today, you’re out thousands. your grip tightens around your phone. “simon, please-”

the line clicks.

he’s gone.

panic creeps up your spine, cold sweat starting to form on your palms. you can’t not shoot today. you can’t afford it. the budget’s already stretched thin, and a reschedule isn’t just inconvenient— it’s impossible.

you drag a hand to wipe the sweat on your forehead.

könig’s eyes are on you and you can feel the heat of his gaze. when you turn, he asks, “problem?”

you open your mouth, hesitate. because what the fuck are you supposed to say? every option you can think of results in you losing a few hundred dollars at the minimum.

you figure the truth is the best option you've got. “simon's out.”

könig watches as your fingers tighten around your phone, knuckles turning white. you press your lips together, trembling just slightly before biting down.

he tilts his head, slow. "know anyone that can sub in?"

you shake your head immediately, too fast, too frantic. a sharp inhale makes your shoulders rise, lashes fluttering against the unshed tears that suddenly gloss your eyes.

fuck.

you’re going to cry.

könig shouldn’t be looking this closely.

shouldn’t be cataloging every shift of your body. shouldn’t be tracking how your throat works as you swallow, how the delicate line of your jaw tenses under pressure.

it’s detail that shouldn’t register. detail that has no purpose. no place. no right to send his thoughts careening somewhere they have no business going.

but there they go anyway.

because he's been watching you.

not in a way that's creepy— könig tells himself that, over and over. he was just a professional doing his research, getting a feel for his clients. it’s good business practice, staying informed, making sure he knows who he’s working with, what they bring to the table.

and if that research led him to your socials, to hours of footage in soft, honeyed lighting, to endless clips of you sprawled out on pristine white sheets as you mewled into the camera— well. that was just part of the job, wasn’t it?

nothing personal. certainly nothing unprofessional.

but the truth, the thing he never says out loud, not even to himself is that he’s spent far too many nights with his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, watching you through the screen.

watching you in those tiny lingerie sets. pink and white lace, frilly little bows, the kind of girlish softness that makes his teeth ache.

könig's watched every fucking video. every stream. every post. hours spent with his laptop open, pants shoved down around his hips, hand working his cock as you bat your lashes and moan so sweetly it makes his head spin.

‘am i a good girl?’ you breathe into the mic, like you’re talking right to him. like you know.

and god, does he know you.

he’s studied you. learned you. mapped out every twitch, every tell, every fleeting flicker of pleasure that crosses your pretty face. the way your brows pinch together when you’re getting desperate. the way your lips part right before you come, glossy and swollen, tongue darting out to wet them like you want something in your mouth, like you’re inviting someone to grab you by the jaw and fuck your throat until you can’t think.

he’s seen how your thighs start to tremble when you edge yourself too long. how your back arches off the sheets when you finally let go, hips rolling into your own hand, breath catching in your throat as you fall apart in a mess of shuddery gasps.

könig has jerked off to all of it.

not just once. not just twice.

so many times he’s lost count.

sometimes slow, drawing it out to hear that little whimper you make at the end— the one that sounds like you’ve been fucked dumb.

sometimes rough. desperate. chasing his own release with one hand fisted in the sheets and the other pumping his cock.

it drives him fucking crazy.

it’s worse up close. worse when you shift on your feet, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, trying to hold yourself together.

stop.

he clenches his fists. drags in a breath through his nose. he is not some fucking rookie. not some kid who can’t keep his head straight.

but then you make a sound that crawls under his skin and sinks deep. and suddenly his thoughts are careening somewhere they shouldn’t go—

places where that breathy little sound is choked out against his palm. where those fingers twisting at your sleeves are scrabbling at his belt instead, pulling, fumbling, desperate.

his cock twitches.

jesus christ.

it’s perverse. it’s wrong. twenty years between you. he shouldn't even be thinking about you like this. but then he thinks about how small your hands would look trying to wrap around his cock. how easily he could press you up against the nearest wall, let you feel how bad he wants you, let you know exactly what you do to him—

and yeah.

he’s fucked.

his grip tightens on the coffee cup, knuckles white, cardboard crumpling in his palm.

"we can reschedule." it’s the logical thing to say. the right thing.

but you stiffen immediately, shaking your head almost violently, like the mere suggestion hurts.

"i can’t." your voice wobbles. "i don’t have the budget for it. the airbnb, the crew- if we don’t shoot today, it’s done. i lose it."

he can hear the distraught in your voice, the panic creeping in, rising in your throat. and könig— könig has never been good at ignoring that kind of thing.

his jaw tightens. his fingers flex. his pulse pounds in his ears. and before he can think better of it—

"i can do it."

your head jerks up, eyes locking onto his. wide. startled.

"what?"

könig lifts a broad shoulder, deceptively casual, ignoring how his pulse is hammering in his throat. acting as if he didn’t just offer himself up like it was nothing.

"i can do it," he repeats. "you need a scene partner."

he pauses, just long enough to make sure you’re really listening before he adds, pointed: "i’ve done worse for less."

it’s true too. könig had started shooting for money, not for passion, not for art. there were years where he took any job that paid, no matter how grimy, no matter how degrading. no dignity in it, no careful framing, no thoughtful direction. just harsh lighting, rough hands, the sound of too many bodies shifting in too little space.

it’s not like that anymore.

now, he works for himself. he makes art, in his own way. he only takes projects that meet his standards, only shoots what he knows will look good.

and this, you, would look incredible.

"are you-" you swallow hard, throat working, voice tight. "you’re serious?"

könig lets out a short, amused breath, tilting his head. "wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t."

your gaze flickers down to his mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.

he notices. of course he fucking notices.

you hesitate, worrying your lip between your teeth, and he wants— god, he wants.

he lifts his coffee, takes a slow sip. watches you.

"think it through," he says, letting the accent curl around the words. "do you trust me?"

you stare at him, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. your fingers tighten around your phone.

and then, even though you probably shouldn't, you nod.

this is insane, is all you can think as your hands smooth down the dress, fingertips catching on the fabric’s delicate weave. it sways when you move, hem teasing the tops of your thighs.

the crew picked it because it feels normal, something someone’s wife might wear on a lazy sunday, waiting for her husband to walk through the door. not lingerie, not tight or short or scandalous. innocent.

somehow, that makes it worse.

the set sprawls before you, carefully crafted to mimic home. the couch sits comfortably worn— or at least looks like it, upholstery creased just enough to suggest years of use. a blanket lies draped over the back, fringes brushed out to seem effortless.

the coffee table holds small artifacts of a life: a half-empty mug with a faint lipstick stain, a book splayed open, pages curled, a pair of keys glinting under the warm overhead glow. off to the side, a framed photo perches, two strangers caught in mid-laugh, frozen happiness you’re supposed to claim as yours.

the lighting bathes it all in amber. soft, forgiving. like sunset spilling through a window that doesn’t exist. everything is designed to feel. to pull the viewer into a scene that isn’t real but wants to be. warmth. comfort. longing.

your pulse trips. nerves coil tight under your. stepping out, you inhale–

and there he is.

könig stands beside the couch, posture loose, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something. the uniform strains against him, fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders and the solid line of his chest. it’s glaringly obvious that it wasn’t tailored for a man like him— you doubt anything ever is— but he wears it like it belongs to him anyway. the belt grips a tapered waist, dog tags resting cold against his sternum. they glint when he shifts, catching the warmth of the lights.

he’s big. that part you knew. everyone knows. but there’s something about seeing him like this, the bulk of him filling the space, boots planted, arms crossed, sleeves clinging to thick forearms, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

he looks like he could hold the world in his hands. break it if he wanted.

then he lifts his head. and his gaze finds you.

it hits like a physical weight, gravity pulling you closer.

his eyes track the line of your body. starting from your face, drifting down, and back up again. for a moment you assume he’s taking inventory, cataloguing details you didn’t know you were offering.

your skin prickles under the attention. heat pooling low, spreading outwards.

könig’s jaw shifts. a muscle ticks. his fingers flex where they rest against his bicep, knuckles pale for half a second before he eases them loose.

you swallow. "do i look okay?"

silence stretches. then: "you look perfect."

his voice sounds like it's been scraped raw from something you can’t name. and you know you shouldn’t take his words to heart. shouldn’t make something out of nothing. he was just being polite—

but god, he doesn’t stop looking.

you breathe out. "are we ready?"

that seems to snap him out. könig exhales, nostrils flaring. “yeah," he says, looking away.. "we’re ready."

you nod and he turns, clapping his hands together.

"quiet on set!" his voice cuts through the chatter. "lights- ready? camera?"

a muffled ‘rolling!’ comes from behind the equipment.

he glances back, stepping into place. "sound?"

"speed!"

he nods, shoulders shifting under the snug uniform. "all right. action on me. three... two..."

his gaze flickers forward, locks onto you. his hand lifts, a silent ‘ready?’

you nod.

"action!"

the front door creaks open.

you see him first— broad shoulders filling the doorway, boots heavy against the worn rug you picked out last fall. his bag drops with a dull thump, keys jangling, and for a beat, you just stand there, watching.

it doesn't feel real. something out of a dream. your husband looks older somehow. tired. lines carved a little deeper around his eyes, hair at his temples brushed with more gray than before.

it's longer now too, the ends curling where sweat and travel have left it mussed.

then his gaze lifts, blue catching yours. and that’s all it takes.

you move.

your feet carry you faster than you realize, dress fluttering against your legs as you throw yourself into him.

könig catches you with a small grunt, part effort, part relief, hardly moving from his spot. strong arms close around you as he lifts you off the floor with an ease that's almost unfair.

his hand finds the back of your thigh, fingers splayed wide. "easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice rough from disuse, deepened by exhaustion and age. there’s an edge to it, earned from years of barking orders and nicotine abuse. "still getting old, you know."

you huff a breath that’s almost a laugh. "you’re not that old."

"hm." könig presses his face into your hair. "tell that to my back."

your chest tightens. god, you missed him. missed the way he smells— soap, leather, that faint trace of cologne you’d tucked into his bag months ago, almost worn off, but still miraculously there. you press your nose to his neck, breathing him in, and whisper, "missed you."

"missed you more." when he pulls back, his gaze traces every line of your face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "lemme take a good look at you, baby."

heat blooms in your cheeks, but you let him. there’s something reverent about his gaze when you meet his eyes.

then, he kisses you.

and fuck.

it’s messy. warm. his mouth is rough against yours, stubble scraping your skin, tasting like coffee burned down to the dregs.

"god," you breathe, voice catching on a gasp. "i love you."

könig chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. "love you too," he murmurs, using that voice he saves for early mornings when you’re tucked against him, trading lazy kisses and whispered secrets.

his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you close. the world tilts, narrows, until there’s nothing but him. his body, his breath, the scratch of his stubble when he tilts his head, brushing his nose against yours.

then his fingers slip under your dress. his breath hitches the moment he finds you bare, his touch grazing soft folds, sticky and warm with slick.

"no panties?" his voice dips somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

heat blooms in your stomach. you bite your lip, shrugging. "figured you'd appreciate it."

his gaze darkens, blue eclipsed by black. "oh, do i."

könig’s fingers slide between your folds, dragging through the slick mess you’ve already made. you flinch at the contact, hips twitching toward him before you can catch yourself.

he pushes it in, slow. the stretch punches a gasp out of you, walls fluttering around the intrusion. he pauses, ignores your whine, brows drawing together, finger knuckle-deep. "did you get tighter?"

his voice is soft, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you, words slipping out under his breath.

his finger curls, pressing snug against your walls, testing just how much resistance it meets.

you whimper, thighs twitching, nails digging into the fabric of his jacket. "m-maybe if you fucked me more, i wouldn’t be."

the words tumble out before you can think to stop them. your pulse skips as you process what you just said. heat floods your face.

könig’s head tilts. his eyes flick up, narrowing, — not angry, not exactly— but his stare steals the breath from your lungs all the same. your lips part, trying to fumble out an apology stuck at the back of your throat when—

slap.

he pulls his finger free and smacks your pussy.

you squeak, body jerking as the sting blooms quick and hot between your legs, warmth spreading through your skin, rushing up your spine. you’re caught between shock and the low, simmering heat that pools in your belly.

"careful," könig warns although his tone is deceptively light. his fingers tap against your clit in soft, featherlight pulses of teasing pressure that makes your thighs jump. "keep that attitude and i’ll slap this pretty little thing five times. make you count every single one. s’that what you want?"

your cunt clenches, slick dribbling down to coat his knuckles. he feels it, of course he does. feels how your body betrays you, responding before your mind can catch up.

chest heaving, you shake your head, breath shivering out of you. "no-"

"no?" he echoes a soft mockery, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs, spreading it just to hear the wet sound it makes echo in the space between you. "then behave, sweetheart. don’t make me teach you."

your heart pounds, breath coming in little gasps as you offer him a jerky nod. könig only watches with lazy half-lidded eyes.

"now," he murmurs, finger filling you again. "gonna ask one more time. have you gotten tighter..." his thumb brushes your clit, just enough to make you twitch, "...or have i just left you empty for too long?"

heat surges through you. your hands clutch at his jacket, grounding yourself in the weight of him. your face burns.

"you were gone for so long," you whisper, voice small, shame curling in your stomach.

he sighs. something in his gaze softens, guilt threading through his voice. "i know, baby." his forehead presses against yours. “missed you too."

you sniffle, nuzzling into his shoulder. "y-you can’t go away that long again..." the words tremble, cracking at the edges.

he kisses your temple, breath warm against your skin. "i won’t," he lies, gentle. "let me stretch you out, yeah?"

könig guides you further into your home, coaxing you down on the couch. könig kneels between your legs, broad hands spreading you open and drinking in the sight of you laid out before him.

"look at you," he murmurs, thumb dragging through your folds, gathering your slick up to rub slow circles against your clit. "so wet for me already. miss having me inside, huh?"

your fingers clutch at the cushions as he begins to fill you, head tipping back. "yes-"

"you gotta watch, pretty," könig interrupts, fingers tilting your chin back down.

your gaze drops, breath catching when you see it— his thick fingers buried deep inside you, slick dribbling down his knuckles. the gold band around his finger shines beneath the mess you’ve made, drenched, the sight obscene and somehow more intimate than you’re prepared for. your walls flutter around him, clenching down like your body’s desperate to keep him there.

"look at that.” he grind. "look at your cute little cunny... makin’ a mess all over me."

your cheeks burn. you squirm, trying to close your thighs, but his other hand tightens on your hip, keeping you spread. "no hiding," he says. "told you to watch."

so you do.

you watch the slow drag of his fingers pulling out, coated in slick that strings between you. your cunt clenches around nothing, throbbing, and you let out a soft, desperate whimper. könig hums, pleased, pressing back in. "look how well you take me," he says, dragging against that spot inside that makes your vision blur.

you whimper, head spinning, hips grinding down onto his hand. "feels so good-"

"yeah?" he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "gonna let me in now, sweetheart? let me fill you up nice and slow?"

you nod, frantic, words lost to the heat coiling low in your stomach. könig smiles, pulling his fingers free. you whine at the loss.

"shh," he soothes, wiping his slick-covered fingers against the head of his cock, spreading you over himself. "gonna take care of you. just lay back and be good for me, yeah?"

his hands grip your thighs, pressing them up toward your chest, folding you beneath him. your skin burns under the pressure, nerves sparking with every shift of his weight. the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance. he’s patient, achingly so— dragging it along your folds, gathering your slick, smearing it along his length until you’re soaked enough that he doesn’t have to rip you open.

könig’s gaze drops to where you’re spread open for him. "ready?"

you nod, breath catching in your throat, but it’s barely a sound, barely a thought when he starts to press in. he breaches you, the thick crown of his cock pushing past your entrance. your cunt clenches on instinct, trying to force him out, but könig presses on.

every inch feels like fire licking up your spine, burning through every nerve until you’re nothing but sensation.

"gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. "stretch you out every day i’m home-" he drives forward another inch, making your back arch, "-’til this pretty cunt just opens up for me."

you can’t speak. can’t think. everything narrows down to the drag of him inside you, veins and ridges catching on the soft walls of your cunt. your mind spins, vision blurring as your hips jerk, instinctively trying to escape the overwhelming fullness. his fingers bite into your thighs, holding you in place.

"uh-uh," he murmurs, dark amusement curling at the edges of his words. "don’t run, baby. you wanted this."

he braces himself, broad shoulders tense above you as he tries to sink deeper. but even with how wet you are, how pliant you’ve gone beneath him, your body refuses to give. his hips stutter, pushing, pushing— yet still, there’s that impossible last inches he can’t force past.

“p-please- need it, need you-” the words spill out as he pauses, pulling back an inch.

"i know, baby, i know," he pants, forehead pressing to yours, sweat slick between you, before rolling his hips back in, trying his damn best to bottom out, but your cunt clenches stubbornly. frustration twists across his face, the sight of you writhing beneath him, cunt stretched wide and still too tight to take him fully— it drives him insane.

"gonna have to fix that," he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

you nod, dazed, tears slipping down your temples as you sob out a choked, "yes- yes, please-"

"shh," könig soothes, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "you’re doin’ so good, baby. takin’ me so well. just need to open you up a little more, yeah?"

könig adjusts his grip, hands sliding beneath your knees, lifting you with ease. before you can even register the shift, he’s pulling you up against his chest, arms hooking beneath your legs, locking you back in a full nelson.

your breath stutters, eyes going wide as your body is left entirely at his mercy, weightless in his grip, spread open around him.

könig’s lips graze your ear. "gonna let gravity help us, yeah? lil bit of science. let’s see if this pretty little cunt can take all of me now."

your toes curl, breath hitching as he angles his hips, smearing your slick between you.

then he lets gravity do most of the work.

your breath leaves you in a shattered moan as your body sinks down, forced open as he drops you down on his cock. your walls flutter, clenching around him, stretched impossibly wide, struggling to take him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you squirm away.

"that’s it," könig groans, arms flexing as he holds you still, keeps you spread. "so fuckin’ good for me, baby. lettin’ me stretch you open- gonna make you take it all."

you whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips, eyes rolling back as the last stubborn inch finally, finally sinks in, his cock seated fully inside you for the first time.

"fuck," könig grits out. "that’s my girl. knew you could take it, baby. knew you just needed a little help."

könig doesn’t give you much of a chance to adjust. the moment he thinks you're ready, his arms tighten, muscles flexing as he hauls you up before slamming you back down.

you jolt, cunt forced to stretch and squeeze around him with every thrust. his strength controls everything— the pace, the depth, the way you bounce like a ragdoll, helpless to slow him down. he’s slamming himself inside, spearing you open over and over, forcing you to stretch wider than you ever have.

you can’t keep up. your limbs go slack, muscles useless, brain short-circuiting. your vision blurs, eyes rolling back, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

könig chuckles, pleased, watching the way you’ve gone completely limp in his arms. "gonna stretch you out like this every single day. keep you full, fuck you dumb, make sure this little cunt remembers who it belongs to."

your body convulses, wracked with sensation too intense to hold in. könig keeps moving, fucking you onto his cock like he’s trying to break you in, to shape your cunt to his cock.

"n-no-" your voice barely comes out. a sob caught in your throat as your fingers claw weakly at his forearms. your legs shake, eyes welling up, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. "g-gonna pee," you whimper, body locking up.

"no, baby." he drags you down harder, grinding the thick head of his cock against that perfect spot inside you. "you’re gonna cum. gonna make a mess all over me, aren't you?"

your sob turns into a choked wail as you gush, squirting hard, the release almost violent, soaking könig's thighs, dripping down to form a puddle on the floor beneath you.

könig watches you fall apart with hooded eyes, holding you up as your body jerks and trembles in his arms. "good girl," he praises, sounding utterly enthralled by the mess you’ve made. "fuckin’ knew you’d soak me- knew you were just a little messy thing."

you slump against him, muscles useless. the aftershocks have you so dazed that you barely register the shift before you’re being turned, pressed down against the floor, cheek squished against the slick puddle you just made.

"könig-" you whimper, trying to lift yourself, but his broad hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, keeping you open.

he ignores you, fingers digging into your hips, adjusting your position, spreading you wider. he lines himself up and pushes in, stuffing you to the brim in one deep thrust. your fingers claw at the wet floor beneath you, the slick sound of him sinking into you obscene in the quiet.

"good fuckin’ girl," he drags his cock out before slamming back in, his thighs slapping against your ass. "just let me use you, yeah? just take it like my perfect little cumdump."

you sob into the mess beneath you. könig presses your face harder against it, his broad palm splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned.

"lick it up," he orders, tone smooth, assured, the kind of voice that expects obedience.

your whole body burns, but the heat between your legs is hotter. könig feels the way you clench around him at the command, the way your body betrays you before your lips can even form a protest.

"kö-”

“don’t make me say it twice, sweetheart," he warns, hips pulling back, dragging his cock out until only the tip stretches you open.

"what’s the matter?" he mocks. "you were so eager to make this mess- now you’re going shy?"

your breath shudders out in a small whimper before you obey, lowering your head, tongue flicking out, just barely grazing the puddle beneath you.

könig clicks his tongue. "that’s not licking, that’s teasing."

his hips snap forward, knocking you further into the mess, forcing your mouth against it. your lips part with a gasp, and könig watches, eyes dark and hungry, as you taste yourself properly for the first time.

"there we go," he hums, smug satisfaction. "now clean up every drop."

your cheeks burn as you press your tongue flat to the floor, licking a slow, tentative stripe through the mess. the taste floods your mouth and your stomach twists— but the weight of könig’s cock inside you, the way he keeps you full and stretched and pinned beneath him, sends another rush of slick dripping down your thighs.

he notices. of course he notices.

"oh, sweetheart," he breathes. "you like this, don’t you?"

your body betrays you again, a little shiver running down your spine, your cunt fluttering around him.

"mm, you do." he chuckles, dragging his fingers through your hair, tightening his grip. "filthy little thing. you’re gettin’ off on this."

you squeeze your eyes shut, shame crawling up your throat.

"könig-"

"uh-uh," he interrupts, grip tightening, making you whimper. "keep licking, schatz. don’t stop ‘til it’s gone."

your tongue flicks out again, lapping up another mouthful, swallowing it down even as heat prickles behind your eyes.

könig groans at the sight, his free hand stroking down your spine, over the curve of your ass. "that’s it, baby," he breathes. "such a good little slut for me."

you whimper, thighs squeezing together, hips rocking subtly against him, desperate for friction, for anything.

he notices that, too. "oh, you poor thing," he coos, all false sympathy, fingers stroking your cheek where it’s damp with tears. "s’this gettin’ you all worked up?"

könig pulls back just a little, dragging his length through your overstretched walls. "you gonna come just from this?" he asks, rolling his hips. your body tenses, toes curling. "from licking your mess off the floor like a good little bitch?"

your face burns, whole body trembling. too full, too overwhelmed, too much— and yet, you nod, a choked little sob escaping your lips.

his pace stutters, burying himself to the hilt with a ragged groan, holding you still as he spills inside, his cock twitching, pumping thick ropes of cum into your swollen cunt. "fuck," he pants, chest heaving, his weight bearing down on you. "so good, baby. took me so fuckin’ well."

his cum is hot inside you, sticky, leaking, seeping out around his cock as he slowly pulls back, watching his spend start to slip from your overstretched hole. könig hums, almost thoughtful. he presses a broad palm against your pussy, scooping it up, pushing it back in with two thick fingers, shoving his spend as deep as it’ll go. "keep it in,” he says almost absentmindedly. he lifts his hand after a moment, tilting his head as he examines the way it drips from his fingers.

his free hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up. your lips part before he even has to tell you. "clean it up," he slides his ring finger past your lips.

your lashes flutter, heat prickling up your spine as you close your lips around him, sucking gently, swirling your tongue over the ridges of his finger, tasting yourself, tasting him.

könig groans, thumb stroking over your cheek, watching your lips stretch around the digit, tongue flicking against the band wrapped around his finger.

"good girl," he breathes, eyes hooded, cock twitching against your slick folds, already stirring again, already wanting more.

he presses his finger deeper, until it nudges against the back of your throat, until your breath stutters and your eyes go hazy, wet.

"so pretty like this.” his other hand slips between your legs again, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit. "gonna keep you like this forever, wife. nice and full."

he pulls his finger from your mouth with a soft pop, watching the way your tongue flicks out after it, lips wet, eyes dazed. "gonna make you a mommy.” he grins. “fill you up every night until it takes.”

“-and cut!”

[stargirlstabber]

imagine könig, the big man he is, slamming his massive dick in and out of you, not caring if it 'doesn't fit'. he will make it fit. he will. he'll manhandle you into various positions, the ones he wants to fuck you in that moment. you'll probably start crying by the time he chases his second release or when he decides to fill both of your tight holes and pushes a dildo or a plug into you. or maybe a vibrator. it really depends on his mood and how good you've been for him. squirming away won't help if he's balls deep into your sloppy cunt, the grip his massive hands have on you holds you like you're a doll to him. which you are.