#konig shenanigans

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The taller you are the farther you fall.

König learns this the hard way.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

One day, you're out walking to work when you hear a loud yell fro behind you that nearly shatters your eardrums . You look over your shoulder and a giant man in full military garb is charging at you from across the road.

You're instinctively running away as he's calling out after you. You don't care, you just fucking book it.

Honestly, it's genuinely shocking that you can run this long. You haven't run like this ever before. The sheer panic flooding your mind has you running as fast as you can in any direction you can, which unfortunately for you is deeper into the park.

You can't keep going forever though. You glance over your shoulder and the giant figure is gaining on you fast. You shriek and scramble back but your feet sweep out from under you and you're tumbling hard and fast down a hill.

You slam into a tree trunk and look back up, finally accepting your fate. You look up and... Wait...

"König?" you call out weakly.

"Schatz!" he comes stumbling down after you, "why are you running?"

"I... I thought you were..." you slowly come to your senses.

As you do, the pain of rolling your ankle hits in and you're curling up into a ball.

"Why did you run!?" König scolds you as he kneels by your side.

"I didn't know it was you!" you grunted as you held your foot.

"Who did you think I was!?" he grumbles as he sets down a small bag to scoop you into his arms.

"I dunno, some..." you petered off meekly before glancing down at the bag. You squinted, "Is that my lunch?"

"You forgot it before you left," König explained as he brought both you and the lunch up into his arms.

"So you were just..." you flusjed.

"Giving you your lunch, ja," König huffed as he walked through the park, "and now look, you twisted your ankle."

"Well you were running at me and it was scary and-"

"I scared you?" König's tone softened slightly.

You thumped his chest lightly, "Yes you big oaf, you scared the shit out of me! I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life..."

"Well if you joined me on my morning jogs..."

"Don't you dare try to finish that," you glowered at him, "I'll kill you."

"And I thought you were afraid of me killing you," König chuffed.

"Shut up and carry me home," you sighed, "I can't go to work like this."

"Fine, fine," König huffed, "but seriously you need to join me jogging. You need to work on your cardio."

You rolled your eyes and let yourself be carried back home.

König Thoughts

Random ass thought, but can you imagine how terrifying it would be for König to run at you FULL SPEED. Like all 6'10 nearly 300lbs of MAN just booking it. The heavy sound of his foot steps as his pale eyes lock onto you as a hawk.

If he was coming at me to murder me- instantly would shit myself.

If he was coming at me to fuck me...well😏

Anyway, just a thought.

I hope everyone is having a great day/night. I love you all. May König chase you in your dreams tonight 😘

...

[codpsychwardfare]

thinking about tgirl soap and her coming out to konig during one of their nights and konig caresses her face cutely going “i think i like you with whatever you want to be” which gives her a heart attack cuz she thinks its the cutest thing ever and she’s mad because she can’t gush about it to ghost because if she ever so much as HINTS that there’s another person that she’s caught feelings ghost is going to start asking questions about who this is and she will NOT have ghost investigating who this person that she’s also seeing because 141 and ghost are going to crucify them both because konig is kortac and that’s just Big No 💕

[wordstome]

peace and love in the cod fandom if we learned to stop getting personally attached/invested in the voice actors and intrinsically associating them with characters we love

[themurderofcrowscollective]

141 at night cause I live for chaotic energy nights

Ghost: *Creeping through the base in a bedsheet with sunglasses on, clearly sleep deprived.* Price: *Also sleep deprived from working constantly.* Oh fuck me there's a ghost- Soap, going with the bit: Somebody call the ghostbusters! *Goes to attack Ghost with a broom.* ---------------------------------------------------- Gaz, high off of chaotic dumb energy: *Slides on the floor with a saxophone.* Ya like jazz? Soap: Oh no not again- Gaz: *PLAYS VERY OFF-TUNE JAZZ MUSIC AS LOUD AS HE FUCKING CAN BEFORE RUNNING OFF LIKE A MADMAN.* Ghost: I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH THAT FUCKING THING! *Proceeds to run after Gaz with a baseball bat.* ----------------------------------------------------- One time Price caught Ghost (the problem child) with Soap (the chaotic child) and Gaz (the gremlin child) at midnight with duct-tape, pillows and markers. What were they doing? Duct taping pillows that were drawn on onto Ghost who was going to scare the recruits who should be asleep by yelling 'OH YEAH!!' and bursting into their dorms. He wanted to tell them to knock it off but instead he pulled out his phone and recorded the whole thing. No recruit knew it was Ghost and legend of the Pillow Man, a cousin of the Kool-Aid Man began to spread as a cautionary tale to new recruits who aren't asleep by nightfall. Pillow Man made his return when the 141 decided to do a pillow fight that only happened at night during October. He was considered the juggernaut that needed to be beaten. ----------------------------------------------------- More will be posted later once I can think of something funny

[gremlinmodetweeker]

There's no doubt cat hybrid!König is an absolute mess. He looks like he's dying he seems so pitiful. Of course, if you thought König was bad, just imagine Horangi...

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Y'all ever thought about how Frankenstein could've been a Pygmalion story? Ever? I do. I think about it a lot.

König could be our masterpiece.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König at 6:30 am on November 1st.

König would not survive No Nut November... 🤐

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I hate everything about his sniper hood just because I know that thing is nasty. And the balaclava underneath? Oh that thing is vile.

König who acts like an old man - and it’s hard to ignore when you live with him. König is used to waking up early from his time at KorTac, and unfortunately you’ll know when he wakes up. coughing, loud, apartment shaking coughing as he clears his throat, stumbling his way to the bathroom before the suns up. some days you can sleep through it, most you just groan and bury your face in your pillow

König who sneezes so fucking hard - it’s gross. it’s especially bad when he’s wearing his hood around the apartment and sneezes into it. you can hear him sniffle afterwards, snotty and loud as he reaches for a tissue. I’m actually so sorry for telling you that, it’s just so true to me even though it’s so gross, but he’s human. sometimes he just outright refuses to use a tissue and complains later when his throat is raw from sniffling

König who disappears into the bathroom for… way too long. you can hear him shuffle about behind the door sometimes but overall he’s completely silent. he’s in there just enjoying some alone time, moving about - cleaning up his stubble, trimming his nails, sometimes he just looks into the mirror lost in thought for a moment. one time you caught him trying to wash his hood in the sink with hand soap… it was promptly thrown into the wash

König who seemingly wears the same fucking pair of cargo pants whenever he’s home. he bought, like, five pairs of the same pants because, “They’re good, Schatz— look, I can carry so many pocket knives.”. he’ll wear them at least twice before washing them. no variation in color, all of them are the same khaki, all of them hugging his thighs a little too much. he folds them himself too, even if you’ve already done it he’ll just redo them. it’s not that you’ve folded them wrong or anything, he just genuinely enjoys folding them, what can I say?

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 5

Task Force 141, Keegan, & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language and Violence, Bullying Soap (don't take it seriously) WORD COUNT: 2.8k

“So, you fucked with him?” Soap questioned in a low voice, mouth next to your ear as you both took a seat in the plane. Gaz who was over his side leaned in the conversation as well, while Price sighed and Ghost simply stayed quiet beside you.

You pulled down the headset to your neck and raised a brow. “Who?”

Soap pulled a face and mouthed, "Graves."

You guffawed, throwing your head back that you slammed into the metal wall, but that didn't stop you. You repeatedly slapped your thigh, wheezing to the point you coughed and felt like vomiting.

The shadows on the opposite side of the plane stared at you with frowns underneath their goggles. They had worked and lived with you under the same roof, but they had never gotten used to how you laughed.

You hated Graves’ guts, but you could acknowledge a fine man who knew how things work. You had seen him in the gym during your time in the Shadow Company. Topless, and sweaty, his veins bulging every time his muscles flexed, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance and draw what you could remember when you were alone (which you sold to one of his shadows—you didn’t know if the guy was into Graves or his fans or maybe both). But that was it—he had done many things that you hated, and you had equally given him things that he loathed.

You calmed yourself down and smiled at Soap, who also stared at you in confusion. "I'd cut my vagina if ever I had his penis in me."

Soap and Gaz's mouths flew open.

Ghost grunted. "Fuckin’ Hell, have ya got no filter?"

"Watch the language, young lady," Price ordered, shaking his head.

You frowned, waving a hand. "What? It's the scientific term for the reproductive organs of females and males." You crossed your arms and huffed. "Is it because you guys don't actually know the right terms for women and your genitals? The outside of the pussy is called the vulva where you men are supposed to do your best to please—" The next words never left your mouth as Soap clamped his large hand on your face.

"I don't want to have SexEd in an airplane, please," Soap said, glancing at the Shadows across the 141. Was this what they experienced during your stay in the Shadow Company? Did they get it worse or did you mind your own business before? He doubted it would be the latter.

Johnny pulled his hand from you as you all felt the plane running and you quickly strapped your seatbelt on you to secure your position. It didn’t take long till the transport was airborne, the loud engines echoing through your headset, and it felt like something heavy was on you. You all kept silent until everything seemed to steady and Captain Price removed his seatbelt, rising to his feet and walking over to a table. He placed a laptop on top of it and pushed it open.

Graves followed suit, stopping on the other side of the table. “Shadows, gather around.”

The Task Force rose from their positions and crowded around the table, while you stood between Graves and Price, making them both look at you for a second before shifting their attention back to the device. Once again, both the leaders talked over the key points of the mission, starting from going to Graves facility in Salvador to travel by chopper instead, the raid in the favelas to capture the target, subduing the militia, and the exfiltration with Nikolai and the Shadow Company, before going back to the Shadows' facility.

“What if he refuses to speak English?” Gaz questioned, grabbing onto his vest. “We’ve dealt with people who wouldn’t speak even after torture.”

“So have I,” Graves claimed, making you silently scoff before he turned to you. “That’s why we have her.”

Heads snapped towards your way, and Ghost asked, “You know Portuguese?”

You raised a finger and opened your mouth to answer, but the CEO was faster. “Seen her teach one of my men before.”

You knew Portuguese, alright, but you didn’t teach one of his shadows Portuguese. It was Arabic numerals. Yet you also didn’t feel like correcting him and let Graves assume things. It was better for him to think that you only knew Portuguese and English.

You put your hand down. "What he said, but I'm not that fluent."

"Better than nothing," Price declared and he put a hand on the table. "Let's end it here for now. We still have some time later on."

One simple nod from Graves, the Shadow scattered, and he patted the Captain's shoulder before stepping away, going in the direction of the pilot.

As the Task Force 141 walked back to their seats, you patted Ghost's arm. He looked down at you with a questioning gaze and you asked, "Do you have any spare mask and war paint?"

"Why?" He inquired, reaching into one of the pockets of his vest.

You raised a brow. "If I want to get back safely in Rio again, I'll have to hide my face from the locals, no?"

He scoffed and pulled out a mask, handing it down to you. It was a black balaclava with a white skull design. Very Ghost fashion, but it was something similar to what you used to see every day before. "Ya know how to put on camo?"

"Yeah." You nodded, tracing your finger on the soft fabric—thankful that it didn’t actually smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. You weren't a fan of camo face paints as they were hard to remove, and you had someone put it on you instead because you couldn't paint camo on without poking your eye or putting some paint on your eye, said the person. That was a lie. That person just wanted to keep holding your face, running their thumb over your lips, or say there wasn't any mirror when in fact, they keep mirrors all the time as part of the tactic not to expose their head when peeking out a corner.

"Alright." Ghost gave you a can of paint and a mirror.

You both sat down and you began to paint the upper half part of your face since the balaclava would cover the rest. You put the paint down on your lap and pulled the mirror away, angling your head from right to left. Then, you slipped the mask on, adjusted the hole around your sight, and tucked the hem under the collar of your jacket. “How do I look?” you inquired, handing back the camo and mirror to Ghost.

“Ready to kick some arse,” Soap fired immediately.

“A she-ghost,” Gaz said.

“Ghost’s sibling,” the Captain commented.

You, Soap, and Ghost turned the other two. Soap pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling, while Ghost glared at them. You, on the other hand, had a grimace underneath the mask. “Agreeing with your favorite, Captain?”

A gasp escaped Kyle’s lips, facing the Price with bright, expecting eyes. “I’m your favorite?”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “He’s your favorite?”

Simon couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Since when do we have favorites?”

Price pulled a face, shaking his head. “I don’t have favorites,” he proclaimed, but that wasn’t enough to convince both the Sergeants. You and Ghost merely listened to their debate and some friendly hits between the Sergeants, really starting to act like siblings fighting for some candies.

It was wonderful to witness, that even though these men weren’t connected by blood, they could be as close as a family who went through heaven and hell, stood in front of death’s door, but would always have one another’s back.

It was admirable—beautiful, that a desire to protect them bloomed in you. If they get dirty, so the world would stay clean, you’d get dirty, so they could continue what they needed to do.

You closed your eyes, feeling it become heavy due to the lack of sleep the past couple of days, and leaned back, a small smile painting on your lips.

Now, you felt like laughing.

Did Task Force 141 remind you of your old friends to feel this way? They’d probably laugh at you and say you’d leave the 141 as well, like what you did to them, or would they laugh because you wouldn’t be able to leave this time with a shackle on?

Oh, how you wish you’d know, no matter how hurtful the truth would be.

Ghost slightly stiffened at the sudden heaviness on his arm and he shifted down his head, finding you sound asleep, cheek squished against him. You looked peaceful with your mouth shut, not moving an inch unlike when you were awake and hyper as though you were on crack. Vulnerable, feeling safe enough to let yourself fall asleep on him in front of all these people who could snap your neck like a twig. But most of all, you looked like a normal person despite the disguise you had put on, simply sleeping because of the lack of. 

It irked him to hear Shepherd refer to you as a tool—a weapon to be used and disposed of. It reminded him of the times before he met Price—before the said man made him feel like a human. Not as Ghost, but Simon. And maybe, if the Captain had done it to him before, perhaps Price can also do it to you.

“Soap,” he called, making Johnny halt from smacking Gaz, his elbow almost hitting you.

Johnny turned to face him with one brow raised, only for both his brows to arch upon seeing you asleep. “Didn’t know she could look quiet.”

“Anyone would look peaceful in their sleep except you,” Price said, crossed his arms, and leaned back, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes as he closed them.

Soap snapped his head at his way. “Captain!”

Gaz painted a smug smirk on his lips, lifting his chin proud. “And that’s why I am his favorite.”

“Ya goddamn—”

"Keep up, lass," Price's deep voice echoed on your headset as you jogged after him and Gaz in the dark—the Sergeant glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following them and not planning to run away.

Not that you could.

You had a frown on your face, hidden by the night vision you had on, frustrated that you couldn’t get the chance to see the statue of Christ the Redeemer with all the houses (if you could call this cluster of shacks, houses) covering your sight. But there was no time for being hot-headed as you were already in the lion's den.

"Up the roof!" Gaz shouted, firing at the man on the rooftop above you three.

"Engaging enemies on the lower favelas," Price declared, running towards a corner of a house.

You slid for cover behind a crate, before aiming up the roof, shooting a man who had emerged from their covers. Blood splattered at each hit, painting the roof and the ground as he fell.

You quickly averted your attention from the sight and announced, "They're using assault rifles."

"Copy," replied the Captain and Gaz.

“Enemies on sight,” Ghost claimed in a rough voice.

There was a crackle on your headset. "Shadow 0-1 to Bravo 0-6 and Bravo 0-7, Shadows are ready for some takedown," Graves responded.

You pumped your fist in the air where someone would have been whenever you fought, a smile appearing on your lips. "Showtime."

You ran towards a corner and fired at the man crouching behind a window, shattering the glass, before aiming from left to right. With no man in sight, you proceed down to another alley.

A gunshot echoed in the air and you whipped around to where it came from. You pulled the trigger, and hid behind a wall, grabbing a grenade. You peeked out and threw it through an open window, then aimed at the house as it exploded. You sprinted towards it, slowly entering the shattered door, finding three men burned and unconscious.

You noticed a phone lit up in one of their pockets. You grinned, bending out and snatching it. You slipped it into one of the compartments of your vest and gazed up the stairs. "Found a way up the roofs."

"Good, do what you must," Price ordered, making you chuckle as you climbed up the stairs. It could only mean one thing, considering he had tested you in the range before. Show him what you could do.

"Wishing our lady death, Captain?" Kyle's soft voice resounded, making you smile.

"Why don't you save me like a good knight in vest you are, Sergeant?” you questioned, humming as you climbed up the stairs. You glanced from left to right and found a window.

A soft laughter echoed in your headset. “Alright, call for my name when you need me later.”

“How ‘bout I call ya, Gaz?” Soap questioned in a mocking voice.

“He’d kill ya instead,” Ghost said, there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’d tell the militia they could take Soap home,” Gaz responded.

You cackled at the top of your lungs and jumped out of the window, blasting the heads of a couple of men you alerted with your laughter. “Perhaps you could learn Portuguese, Soap.”

“I’ll gie ye guys a skelpit lug,” Johnny barked out.

“Speak English,” the three of you remarked simultaneously, making the poor handwash groan and curse at you three.

“American English, perhaps,” Graves piped in, making you and Kyle howl in laughter.

“Not ye too, Graves!” Johnny yelled, making you flinch at the sudden loud volume, which quickly died down.

“You guys are bullying Soap too much,” Price said in a calm voice.

“Tell them, Captain. Tell them!” Soap exclaimed, and you could imagine him stomping and throwing his hands around like a kid.

Then, Price added, “Do it again, kids.”

“Fuck you!”

You ran, dashing behind walls that went higher than some roofs as bullets whistled past you, and slid, shooting multiple rounds.

A series of gunshots and explosions from all directions could be heard. It seemed that the Shadows had risen from the dark, and now the Task Force could focus on the target.

You launched yourself from one roof to another, landing with a thud and rolling. You got up to your feet and put bullets through a door from below. The door broke down and one man fell out. You proceeded forward, climbing up a higher shack due to the slope of the hill.

Just as you got inside, a curse in Portuguese shot to your covered ears. You slipped forward as the man aimed his handgun and you unsheated your knife, slashing his thigh. He fell with a stifled scream and you drive the blade to his neck. You pulled it off in a swoop and blood gushed out, splatting on your clothes.

You were thankful you couldn’t feel the warmth of it, but you could feel your skin slick with sweat. You looked down at the man next to your feet, blood pooling underneath, and sighed, averting your gaze away.

You marched toward a terrace on the side and noticed a light on top of a mountain from far away. You gasped. “Guys, I see him!”

“Fabricio?!” Price yelled over the comms.

“No, sir! Christ the Redeemer!” You leaped out of the terrace, grinning wide, although you couldn’t see it. You stowed behind a wall as you noticed several men jogging above a makeshift metal bridge to cross roofs. “Can we go later there? I want to see it up close!”

A silence answered you before Price responded in a low voice. “I can’t guarantee that, kid.”

You peeked from the corner and struck them down swiftly. “I know that, sir. I’m just messing with you.”

You heard another sigh from him that got blocked over by Ghost’s loud voice. “I spotted Fabricio! He’s headed down your way, Soap!”

“I see him!” Soap shouted back. “Ah, shite—Captain, he’s going your way!”

“Copy!” The Captain replied in a serious voice. “What the—he’s down yours, Gaz!”

Upon hearing his words, you ran and jumped to another roof, where the militia was headed earlier. Considering the direction where they supposedly proceed and where Gaz should be chasing down the man now, you would be able to see him from a bird’s eye view.

“Bloody man, can’t he settle in one way?!” Kyle commented, clearly frustrated by how annoying the changes in the route of the target were, which was expected as he was on his home ground. “Shit, he’s gonna get away!”

You turned to the right, jumped to another roof, and there the scurrying rat was. You leaped and everything seemed to be in slow motion as you went down and landed on Fabricio, bringing him down on the ground. He grunted in pain and you quickly aimed a gun on his head as you moved more comfortably on the man’s back, completely sitting down on him.

You looked in all directions and smiled under your mask at the Task Force emerging from the shadows one by one. “I better get a good dinner tonight for this.”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie, @sarahedwards16, @kenma-izhu, @kkaaaagt

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I'm sick so forgive me for being a bit lazy, but this is the general idea.

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König it stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

[lxvvie]

A relationship with König would consist of the following:

Your first date being the embodiment of 'shit happens'.

Spontaneity driving your later date nights because every time König planned one, shit continued to happen.

König refusing to tell you his middle name (after you found out that he had one) no matter how many times you beg, plead, and give him puppy dog eyes because he's embarrassed by it.

Marveling at how König can be so big and tall and somehow make himself seem so small when he's sitting sometimes. He also doesn't mind some cramped spaces, either.

König resting his head on your lap because it is calming and he tends to suffer from tension headaches. You rubbing his head also helps quite a lot.

König being in a state of constant mortification while you're damn near dying you're wheezing so hard because of his sense of humor.

Piggybacking off the last point, it's endearing because it's either offbeat or poorly timed. It also doesn't help (or rather, it does) that he's a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to getting hip to memes, the latest slang, etc. There was that one time with the eggplant emoji...

Never failing to laugh when he laughs... because of his laugh. König has the gremlin cackle thing going on and it is hilarious.

Testing König's inner koala as he sleeps. Turns out that if you put just about anything near him, he'll automatically hug it close to him. You tried it with a pillow.

Using his height to your advantage. You tend to use him as your personal crowd parter person thingie, especially when you're grocery shopping or just... out in public in general. Or using him when you need to get that one item that's all the way on the top shelf at the very fucking back.

Standing on his feet so you can get some height to try and kiss him. Konig thinks it's cute and funny, so cute and funny in fact that he sometimes will not bend his head down just so he can see you pout and whine about how he's "not being fair".

Giving him a compliment and watching König.exe stop working because of reasons. Reasons that involve feelings.

You having to avoid wearing some of König's shirts also because of reasons.

Watching the shenanigans of Drunk König. The most common theme is Drunk König thinking the closest thing near him is you and so he's practically talking to his Schatz and wondering why you're not answering or something like that.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

"He came out of nowhere Sir! I swear!"

Had some fun with this one.

Konig Art

Konig Dump

[gremlinmodetweeker]

EEEEEEE THIS IS SO GOOD! I love I love I love!!! I am so happy that you made this I cannot express it. There is a smile plastered on my face right now.

FRIENDO I MADE A THING!! YOU MADE ME DO A THING!! HAVE A THING!!

@gremlinmodetweeker @gremlinmodetweeker

"Look, I had a bad ni- König! Get th' fuck down mate! 'm tryna talk ta ya!" 'Handler' would shout darting after the shifted b feathered asshole. Crinkly gloves digging into the plastic container. "Gods 'm gonna K word m'self one of these damn days. Stupid fuckin' bird, stupid fuckin' hazmat bullshit- König!"

The bastard shifter in question continues to run through the hanging rings, lounging on them while he fiddles with the newest puzzle he most definitely did not 'steal' from his handlers bag. The man could swear this one squawked more than other actual birds he's met. Always flitting about in that obnoxious suit, necessary, but no less obnoxious. Surely a twitchy Sparrow, or maybe a finch with how much they constantly chi-

"Listen ya big bloody fuckin' bastard! Ya want m' stress baking or not?!" 'Handler' would squawk out yet again, stomping their crinkly foot in indignation.

"Finch food?" The deep timber would squawk out, landing heavily before 'Handler' and quickly closing in, claws tapping the concrete excitedly. Blue eyes trained on the suddenly interesting object in their crinkly hands. "Food! Food! Finch food!"

"'m not a damn fin- ugh! Fine! Here!" 'Handler' would squawk out before peeling off lid off the Tupperware, and fuck was that STEAM still oozing off the sweet treats?! Maybe this Finch could stick around a bit longer...

THIS IS YOUR FAULT FRIENDO!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

An incredibly sleepy reader who sees no harm in sleeping near Konig whenever she's barely wearing anything or nothing at all

Incredibly sleepy gf x incredibly horny bf if going to turn into some pretty weird somnophilia shenanigans......bless her sleepy heart because her pussy will get pounded every time Konig returns home and sees his adorable, pretty, totally not being held captive gf of a random chair, completely naked except for socks(those wooden floors can get quite chilly in the evening) and a plushie she holds in her hands. It takes everything in him not to just run and spread your legs for him to fuck you senselessly. ...and he fails. He does, in fact, runs to you and tugs his head between your legs immediately, tongue on your naked folds. You should have known better than to look like this when your attractive and insanely horny boyfriend just got out from a deployment that rendered him unable to meet you for a few months...or you should just start wearing clothes around the house when you know you will fall asleep...but Konig really doesn't want for it to come to this. He needs your precious body on full display all the time, especially when you're so sleepy and relaxed. He would apologise for the first few times this happened - especially when he isn't quite brave enough to just fuck you outright and instead would jerk off silently in the corner, while you're too sleepy to notice him until he is covering your face in semen. He would be more gentle with you after he finally succumbed to fucking you - and you can be sure that you'd cum quite a few times before finally waking up and see him for what he is worth.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I feel like, Young!Pathetic!Konig would do REALLY well with a Older!Lady-Cougar!Reader, She's maybe been divorced twice and looking ta maybe become widowed this time? May-haps her current hubby has wealth and power but is a few screws short of being a good man towards our poor reader, and there's that Pesky prenup that makes it so she won't get ANYTHING in a divorce...buuuttt if the bastard has a bit of an....*Oopsie doodle*.... Maybe she's looking for someone to take care of her problem, and maybe she likes this young soldier boy, whose all too happy to help with *whatever needs* she might have? Likes how desperate he is for just her hand on his arm, likes how he's on his need begging for just a *taste* Likes that she can teach him how to please a woman, how to make her moan like no lover before....Likes how willing he is to kill the man she's married too...

Asfdf my brain short circuited ❤️ I know I said somewhere that I don’t write cheating but if it’s cheating a bad man with an even worse man König….

CW: 18+ MDNI. Age difference, F!dom/M!sub undertones, praise kink, cheating (your husband is an old dick), mating press & other shenanigans, murder & mentions of blood, König is a lovesick yandere in the making.

It was just one night.

Just one night to satiate your needs because your husband for sure never takes care of them.

But then the young pup you picked off from the pub pops into your workplace next week... With a large bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolate in the other, your desperate little “detour” looks like a boy who just got laid for the first time in his life.

“König…” you sigh and pull him to an empty breakroom before all your colleagues see you’ve cheated on your beloved husband with a man at least ten years younger than you.

“You can’t be here,” you start, trying to ignore the happy, greedy stares this little—big—soldier gives you.

He’s all the equal to his alias, looking like a king in the making with those wide shoulders and that fierce stare. But his hands are shaking, he guides those eyes to the floor as he puts the gifts on the table littered with crumbs and coffee stains, switches his weight from one foot to the other once you start to tell him how it is.

He listens dutifully as you try to explain how it was only one night, that he was incredibly lovely and you had so much fun but that you can’t see each other anymore. It was wrong of you to do so in the first place, you’re married, and you’re so, so sorry... You were just so sad and lonely.

You tell him he’s a good man. That he’ll find someone special, some lovely girl to call his own. He will find someone who can give him what he wants, someone who will cover him with kisses for bringing her flowers and sweets.

You try to explain it to him even as you get slowly chased into a corner, you try to tell him what a catch he is even when you get pinned to the wall by a hard, lean chest.

You try to tell him that he’s the perfect man for some other girl even when he pulls your strings aside and bullies his cock inside you.

One minute is all it takes as he huffs and groans and fucks you against the wall, your moans and his grunts barely muffled by shirts and fists and lips and skin. There’s lipstick on his clean, white shirt after he’s done with you, teeth marks where his shoulder meets his neck, a spittle of cum on your skirt as he pulls it down with shaky hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear. “I just had to see you. I missed you so much...”

Your cunt is what he missed, any woman could see that. Got a taste of it last weekend and wouldn’t let you leave his place at all; a small, miserable flat of 25 square meters, with burned rice on the stove and a thin, cum-stained mattress on the floor. He fucked you on that mattress, four times because on the fifth attempt to part your shaking thighs, you told this horny lad you need to go home.

“I know, big boy. I missed you too. But you need to go now,” you say to your pretty lover. Ugly but pretty, in his own way, his utter lack of cruelty is what makes him beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t want to,” he dares to argue back and claims your mouth, kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“You have to,” you moan. “König–”

“I love you.”

You’re huffing, panting into each other’s throats as you realize he’s even younger than you thought. Fell in love with your cunt so easily, this big runt, thinks it’s meant to be just because you’re wet and he’s hard.

“Don’t be silly,” you huff and look at the drowsy smile, the messy state of this lovesick man before you fight your way out of his lap.

You want to cry, wail, scream from the injustice. Where was this silly young golden retriever six months ago? Why didn’t you meet him when you were single and sweet? Now you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage with some old fool who was cunning enough to trick you into a ludicrous deal with him. The prenupt you discovered only later, after he swore that you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life and that everything that belonged to him would be yours one day. In reality, you’ve had to beg for every crumb, act the part of a trophy wife who also has to work herself to death. And he won’t even fuck you, only wants you to massage his back and his cock while you’re left all alone without love, without a single kind word.

But König never lets you go: not in a way you beg him to, no, he always shows up at your door. Sneaks into your lonely room from the window, licks you to ruin while you laugh and tell him no, fucks you three times a night, crawls under the bed when a cleaning lady almost catches you two. He shows up at cafes, restaurants, conferences, parties, everywhere where you go but your husband won’t.

He’s so reckless that you have to teach him to be more patient, more gentle. You guide his fingers and his head, even his cock, while locking your eyes with his so that he knows when he’s doing it right. You praise him for a good, unhurried fuck, cup his face and kiss him when he gives it to you nice and slow. Anyone can see he'd want to ram it in until there’s nothing left of him and you, but you kiss and kiss and kiss him until the poor boy moans and cums without permission, just from that tiny taste of intimacy and love.

He gets pets, smooches and caresses, blowjobs that leave him shaking and breathless on the bed. He looks like he has no brains left after you’re done with him, looks a little helpless when you climb on top of him and help yourself with his cock after he only just came.

He’s always up in no time, especially if you tell him he did well. Stares at you and your breasts like you’re a vision from heaven, drools on them once when you won’t let him have a lick. Mopes when you laugh at his predicament, and won’t stop brooding even when you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he’s never mad at you for long, not if you call him sweetie or your silly apple crumb, not if you let him fall asleep in your bed, partly on top of you. There’s always a wet spot on your back if he’s the big spoon, he begs you to sleep naked as he does, says it’s better for your health and then teases you with his fingers come morning, probably thinking he’s so very clever. Takes you to the theater and offers you expensive port wine and cake, tells you how to steal a car, how to shoot any gun. Gives you a hungry kiss in public when you tell him he has to act like he’s your cousin from abroad, vanishes for weeks to his training, sends letters instead of texts, and tells you he’s going to be a big boss someday.

It’s hard to imagine this serious but silly mess as an intimidating officer, not even when you know he has the size and looks for it. He’s too innocent and needy, doesn't know how the real world works yet. Thinks he’s immortal just because he’s young...

There’s a certain darkness in him, and you mistake it for the remnants of some turbulence of his teenage years, just some wrath of a boy who never got what he wanted. Who wouldn’t be a little pissed and impatient in their twenties? He probably doesn’t even know what he wants: hell, you don’t know what you want.

“Like this...?” He asks demurely when he lifts your knees to your ears and sinks his cock into you inch by inch, carefully as if it’s the first time you’re making love.

“Just like that,” you whisper as he spreads you so wide you can’t even breathe, fills you up deliciously, like no one else before. His eyes never leave you, not even when he uses your hole as a place to bury himself and all his bad memories, not even when he makes you squirt like you’re nothing but an oasis in a desert that never ends.

But you know he comes to you for other things than just that.

He comes to you for kind words, breathy praise, soft touches and ruffles of his hair. He comes to you for practice and to get his sense of self in order. He’s your pretty knight in shining armor when others have called him ugly, he’s your strong bull when others have ridiculed his disproportionate limbs. He’s your safe haven, your sunshine, your crazy, silly man, your soldier and your savior, and he soaks up your love and attention like a sponge: every drop gets gulped down like he’s a man dying of thirst. He doesn’t take sips, he doesn’t know how to, and you on the other hand don’t know how to quench the raging drought inside him, long after yours has been satiated.

You sleep like Romeo and Juliet just before their death, and fuck like rabbits in the spring. He takes you in the car, in the closet, in the toilet, in other people’s beds, even at the alley one night.

“I love you,” he always says after he has spilled his cum – it’s like a ritual or a prayer, and you always reach for the baby hairs of his neck in return, and give them the gentlest caress.

“I love you too,” you whisper one night – it just slips when you stroke his cheek. It never comes as a surprise that he gives you the most miserable pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

He knows about your situation, knows enough that you’re trapped and unhappy. But you never knew he saw you as a victim. If anything, you feel like he’s the victim here. Poor boy, saving what little he has for a future with some woman who knows nothing about true love... You’re not the one for him, you’re not even a silly little sex kitten any young soldier would want to play with. You’re just some bored, abandoned wife who wants to feel something, mean something to someone. But you love him enough to know that you’ll let him go when he wants to move on. As bitter as it makes you feel, you know you’ll give him to someone younger and more beautiful, someone who will love as passionately as he does. Anything to make him truly happy.

But the next evening, König doesn’t climb in through your window. He uses the door, the inside door, and you jump from the bed and hurry to him in your nightgown, the only gift your husband ever gave you.

“I killed him for you,” he says, your soldier boy from Austria, your good, good boy with a good, big cock.

You only now see that his hands are stained in blood, and nothing shakes anymore: your wannabe sniper is as calm as ever when he confesses he’s murdered someone.

“...What?”

He comes to you and cups your face, the blood on his hands both wet and cold. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, not even after he’s had a good fuck. The boy who no one ever loved has turned into a man, but what kind of man… You shiver in his clutch, unsure if you’re about to suffer a heart attack from fear or love.

“He didn’t suffer... Much,” he says, his cracked lips only a breath away from yours. “Knives can be messy…”

You gulp while staring into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes, the innocent baby blue nearly swallowed by the darkest of all loves.

This is not how you thought things would go… You were supposed to give the old man the finger and divorce during the summer. Put your finances in order so that you can escape. Maybe fuck König on the side and see if he’s still the man of your dreams once you’re happily divorced.

Now he’s telling you you’ll marry as soon as possible, or that if you want a summer wedding, he can wait a few months… He tells you you have nothing to worry about, he won’t go to jail, not this time. He’ll take care of you now; he just got promoted. You don’t ever have to be sad again.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says when all words have finally escaped you. “Now we can be together. Forever…”