#könig with a long tongue and piercing

[shounengirlart]

mein Schatz ~

+ alt ver

[uhohdad]

(18+) König x Reader - Catching Him Getting Off

It takes you far too long to process both your mistake and the sight before you.

Even though you’re stumbling and your vision is blurry, you knew something was up. This was not the room you had left when you went to the bathroom to relieve a bladder so full it threatened to burst. The room you had just left was packed with your teammates, pungent with the smell of alcohol, and flooded with songs you don’t recognize.

This room was almost silent, smelled of musk, and held only one occupant.

Your colonel.

Shirtless.

His impressive, intimidating form sprawled out on a bed he makes look comically small, muscles tight and glistening with sweat. His massive arm bulging to pump what is no doubt the largest cock you have ever seen, at full attention and freed from his sweatpants.

König’s eyes flit to you, so obviously not where you’re supposed to be. While his brow quirks and the pace of his pumps slow, he doesn’t rush to cover himself up or even stop what he’s doing.

When your brain finally catches up, you scramble, shouting desperate apologies and tripping over yourself to leave and slam his door shut behind you.

You do not return to your team. You dart straight to your room, seal yourself away, and pace for the better part of an hour.

You manage to get away with your avoidance for a few days. Hardly lifting your head from the floor and darting away anytime he neared. The burn of his stare is hard to ignore, though. Searing and white hot. But there’s no way you’ll be able to make eye contact with him ever again. Not when you know what his thick cock looks like when glistened with precum and being pleasured by his fist. Not when you’ve already gotten off to the thought of helping him out with his needs by letting him rut into you instead of his hand.

Always blunt and never bashful, he waits until your guard is down before he corners you. He plants his giant hand just in front of your lunch and leans down until you have no choice but to acknowledge him. It’s hard to look at his arm and not picture the muscles you know reside underneath his uniform.

“You don’t have to be so shy around me.”

“Colonel, I am so sorry. I thought I was- Please, can we just forget that even happened? I won’t tell anyone, I- I haven’t-”

“Es ist okay,” He says, soft and reassuring.

It’s so jarring from his usual assertive and even vitriolic way of speaking. You don’t have the sense to hide the furrow of your brow.

His eyes crinkle, and he gives a low hum with a tilt of his head. It’s hard to resist squirming with those intense, piercing eyes boring into you.

“Did you like what you saw?”

“What?” You ask through a nervous laugh.

You heard him, oh you heard him, but you have to hear it again to be sure.

“Did you like what you saw?”

His repetition doesn’t waver. The words roll off his tongue far too casually for such a forward question.

You don’t have an answer for him. You’re paralyzed under his stare, by his brazen words, trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke you don’t understand. Your mouth parts in anticipation to answer his question but fail to form the words. He doesn’t wait for you to scrounge up a response before he throws another impossible question at you.

“Do you want to see it again?”

You suck in a sharp breath and finally look away. After a beat, you give a shameful but eager nod.

Suddenly you’re back in his quarters, on your knees before his monstrous, impossible form. Stripped of your clothes while he stands covered head to toe except for the cock freed from his waistband. He studies you carefully, your head craned back and pitiful eyes trained on him. Your mouth is open, tongue stuck out, obediently waiting for the finish he’s working toward. His hands are just a blur, pumping himself to the sight of the tiny little thing kneeling between his boots.

“Sehr gut,” He breathes, “So patient for me.”

He slows to run the head of his cock along your slick tongue.

“You want to get off too, süßes kleines ding?”

While your cheeks are burning and you feel more than degraded, the growing stain of arousal in your panties tells a different story.

“So hübsch.”

König reaches down to cup your jaw and guides you to look at him while his foot nudges its way between your thighs.

“Grind on my boot.”

You whine, keeping your mouth open and ready like the obedient little soldier you are, and lower yourself onto his boot. Cheeks flushed with heat as you wrap your arms around his leg and grind your soaked panties along the leather. Relieving the needy ache between your legs and chasing that warm jolt of pleasure with each brush over your clit.

“Ich werde dieses hübsche Gesicht ruinieren.”

Your eyes instinctively pinch shut when you feel the warm droplets of his finish splatter on your cheek. He lets out a choppy moan as he paints your face and outstretched tongue in his sticky mess, making sure to milk every last drop on his waiting canvas.

“Look at me,” He grits.

He takes a moment to admire his work, tilting your head side to side with a gentle but firm hand on your jaw. He hums content before letting go, tucking himself back into his boxers and buttoning up his pants.

“Swallow,” He orders.

You finally close your mouth as you take down what he managed to get on your tongue, intrusive and salty.

He gives a gentle wiggle of his boot and squints at you, surely wearing a smug grin beneath that hood.

“You can clean your face after you finish yourself off, liebling.”

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Secretary!Reader (fem)

MDNI 🔞

Quick note: 💕 THANK YOU 💕 to everyone for the love and support on my stories! I’m happy people are enjoying them💗

For more: Master list

Part 2 here

>CW: fem/afab reader, oral, anilingus, p in v

.

.

.

Imagine coming in to work for König as his secretary after he reluctantly agrees to let the captain hire help for him. Walking into his office the first day to see the massive man with piercing pale blue eyes. A sniper hood with bleached tear looking stains covering his face. He just looks at you. Not being able to see his facial expression because of the mask so you just stand there frozen. So frozen with fear looking into his eyes that you failed to notice the massive hard on he has growing in his pants.

Your first few weeks there he didn’t talk much to you. Handing you files and asking for little earns to be ran for him, like coffee or lunch pick up. Slowly he started to talk more, “Danke, bitte, nien, ja.” His eyes always boring into yours as if he was looking into your soul. It was unsettling, but the pay was great and he has never actually been rude to you so you put up with it.

You had gotten into the routine and started to enjoy the job. König was an easy man to work for as long as you did things as expected and he never over worked you. As a plus he turned out to be sweeter than expected. Coming into work on your birthday to see a simple cupcake with frosting in your favorite color on your desk and a card stuffed with cash. König never actually says “Happy Birthday”, but this is just how he expresses he cares.

“Thank you, König.”

He gives a simple nod and goes back to typing up a report.

Six months in he asks you to stay after, he has to talk to you. You begin to worry, anxiety spikes as you realize you might be getting fired. Trying to think about the mistakes you might have made, you sit a chair across from his desk. His eyes look away from the computer to meet yours.

Before you know it, you’re naked, bent over his desk. His mask pulled back over his head as his face is smothered between your ass cheeks as his tongue laps at your tight asshole. One of his hands has two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of your wet pussy, the feeling of your tight gummy walls wrapping around his fingers making him want in now. His other hand stroking his cock, using his own precum as lube.

“Was willst du?” His eyes travel to his fingers in your pussy before pulling them out and shoving his tongue in your slightly stretched hole.

“I want your cock,” your voice trembles with pleasure.

König lets a pleasured sigh hearing your words before pulling away from your sweet pussy. Finally, he lines up his fat cock with your entrance.

An animalistic groan escapes his lips as he pushes the tip in. König places his hands on your ass cheeks to spread them apart; his eyes watching as your pussy struggles to stretch, swallowing his cock inch my inch. Eyes fluttering to the back of his head. He feels like he just found heaven in your tight grip.

He was already falling in love; this moment just sealed the deal. A week later you came into work to find a key on your desk attached to a “K” keychain.

Part2

[disgustingtwitches]

"I like a tall woman with a nice big ass."

König x tall+curvy!reader. Love the idea of this uptight motherfucker getting with someone who is young and wild :)

MDNI

König is dragged out to a trendy club by his subordinates and he's awkwardly folded up in a seat in the corner of the club. The flashing lights and loud music give him a headache so he steps out into the smoking area. There you are with your girlfriends, yelling something about a 'hot girl summer' and pouring tequila into each other's mouths.

He can't really ignore your group; young, foreign, and rambunctious. He can't really ignore your long legs that lead to full hips that move side to side. He can't really ignore your pierced nipples or rounded breasts that almost bust out of your tight white crop top while you jump around. He can't really ignore how soft you look. He has to look away so all the blood in his body doesn't rush to his dick.

One of his subordinates walk up to him, concerningly drunk, talking about some bullshit he doesn't care about. He ushers him back to the group before ordering them to back to base. The group complains but complies. They don't even ask why he's staying behind.

He goes off to look for you. You aren't hard too find, taller than the gaggle of women that surround you. He just stares at you from far away. You stop mid conversation with your girlfriends, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. You look around and see him staring: a clear view of each other over the tops of everyone's heads.

As unsettling as his stare is, you were used to it by now. That's apparently how Germans are? You excused yourself from your group and walked over to him. Even in your heels he was taller than you. Something you weren't used to.

"Evening."

You put your hand out. He takes it, his hands are rough and his grip strong.

"Abend."

He replies dryly. There's an awkward silence. What a charmer, this one. It didn't really matter though, he was hot. He was still holding your hand... it was getting sweaty. You pull away and wipe your hand on your skirt.

"So, uhm... Nice weather."

You try to wrangle a conversation out of him.

"Yes, it is... agreeable."

You want to laugh. He was kind of pathetic. It made him hotter somehow. You convince him to take a shot with you, hoping to losen him up. You manage a few more words out of him; his age and "name". Or whatever he preferred to be called. Your girlfriends find and encircle the both of you. He immediately tenses up while they bombard the two of you with questions. You shoo them and they giggle walking off.

The rest of the night is filled with the same failed attempts at conversation. At this point it's just niceties, you're gonna sleep with him whether he talks or not. He knows that. You shoot a text to your girlfriends and share your location while he whisks you away to his place.

As soon as the door to his place closes, he pins you against the wall, grabs your neck, and plants deep kisses on your lips. It takes you back a little, expecting him to be a little more shy. But you're not complaining. You start tearing each other's shirts off, he audibly moans when your top comes off. He twirls his tongue around one pierced nipple, brushing a thumb over the other one diligently.

"So fucking beautiful, fits in my hand perfectly."

His wet mouth leaves a trail of sloppy kisses up your neck.

"Can you keep the heels on?"

He asks while unbuckling his pants. You oblige. He places a hand on your back and guides you to place your hands on a table in the hallway, making you face a mirror. You watch his face through the reflection as he lifts your skirt up, his eyes go wide. So soft and full. He's practically drooling, mumbling something about finally being able to stand and fuck someone properly for once. He pulls your panties to the side and flashes a goofy smile while rubbing himself between your slick folds. You'd laugh if you weren't absolutely horrified at how big he felt pressed up against your entrance. He looks up half-lidded,

"Fucking perfect for me, hm?"

Your knees almost buckled at his words. God, he's fucking hot. He teasingly slides his fat tip in and out of you until you beg for more, groans as he slides himself inside you. You clench around him as he gets deeper and deeper. Jesus, how much dick can one man have? He holds your hips and rocks back and forth slowly. Soft love taps to your cervix each time your hips touch his.

"Look."

He says while reaching to wrap a gentle hand around your neck to pull you back against his chest.

"See how good we look together, hm?"

You moan his name as he starts to pound into you. He's entranced with the way your soft ass bounces on his dick. He looks up into your eyes through the mirror while teasing your nipples.

"You take it better than anyone I've ever fucked before."

He kisses and nips your neck before he reaches down to grab both cheeks, spreading you out to get a better view of himself slipping in and out of you. The sight makes his dick jump inside you, which is an overwhelmingly delicious feeling. He leans over and snakes his hands around to the front of your thighs and squeezes them before sliding up between them, playing with your sensitive clit. He gets too rough with you. He thinks you can handle more since you're thicker and taller than most women he's been with. You can't. His dick is a battering ram. Your knees buckle.

"Come on mein Schatz, you can take it. Say you can take it."

How could you deny him? His voice is so soft and darling compared to the roughness of his actions. He grips your curvy hips and pulls them back onto his hips, hard. He fills you to the brim as you yelp. He didn't have a way to describe the way you made him feel. It was a nice change of pace from having to treat women like a piece of porcelain. He could rough you up a bit and you took it like a champ. He didn't have to bend in a way that made his back hurt the next morning. This was refreshing. He couldn't get enough. It went on for hours and hours.

"Made just for me."

He'd repeat into your ear every time you'd spasm around him. He folded you up and pounded into you until you couldn't see straight. He'd fondle every curve on your body, praising how nicely it bounced every time he strokes into you. You were supposed to fly out to England with your girlfriends the next day. Instead, he bought you a ticket to catch a flight after the weekend was over.

[ghouljams]

https://www.tumblr.com/blacktabbygames/765421029538578432/enough-of-ppl-asking-if-beak-how-kiss-you

this is one of the fae

Roach and König that's who it is

Roach has to hold your face still, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to pucker your lips so he can keep from startling you when his mandibles graze your skin. His tongue pushing out past the jointed jaw to invade your mouth, lick at your teeth and taste the way you slide your tongue against his in return. Eager to feel the vibrations in your throat, the softness of your skin, you yield to him so easily. Unguarded. The way he feeds you his spit makes your head spin. You're not supposed to eat anything the fae give you, but surely this is different. Surely this is nothing more than a possessive sweep of his tongue. Surely...

König sometimes(often times) is simply too big to kiss you properly. It's easier to tip your head back and slip his long tongue from beneath his hood. It's an eager thing too, squirming and desperate to force it's way past your teeth. He invades your senses, looming over you, closer and closer, as his tongue pushes deeper and deeper. You can almost feel the tip of it flicking against your esophagus, so far behind your ribs you don't have the muscles to gag. Maddening. Your lips stretch wide around his tongue, your body held in place like a sword swallower, cautious movements, as if any breath could pierce your diaphragm and leave you permanently breathless. He doesn't pull back until he's tasted the acid bite of your stomach. What was that old adage about feeding cats?

[konigsblog]

more arranged marriage between reader and farmer!könig, please? 🌝❤️

tw: arranged marriage au, rape/non-con, forced impregnation and breeding. dead dove: do not eat. 18+ tell me if i missed anything. 🔞

your parents knew it was harsh to arrange a marriage with the farmer of the village, although, they cared more about his money and wealth and status around the village, how you'd be viewed as his pretty, little wife, respected and admired by those around you.

that's what they want you to believe — that it's for your own sake — but, a part of you is aware that they're doing this for könig's money, as he pays them to keep you by his side. for könig, this is everything he's wanted, whilst you avoid him like the plague and dismiss every attempt when he tries having sex with you.

farmer-könig spends ages on the field, harvesting the fruits and vegetables whilst you hide inside, ignoring your arranged husband. könig attempts to please you, to make you happy, but eventually, he's left without a choice but to take the old-fashioned route and have his way with you regardless...

he'd drug you, get you intoxicated enough where your mind is easily shaped and you're a pliant plaything for him to use for an hour or so, his obedient wife waiting on him, to be torn apart and pierced with his hung, musky cock. the smell of his sweat and musk was a scent you were all too familiar with, smelling it on him after he'd arrived home from the farm, sweat running down his forehead. you could smell it against his neck as he lowered himself onto you, his weight holding you down and the scent of alcohol coming from your breath.

his large and calloused hands began moving as he wasted no time at getting what he pleased and yearned for. könig's fingers ran up your back, unclasping your bra and removing it to see what he craved, the essence of your sweet arousal leaving könig insatiable and hungry. he couldn't wait any longer, as he gripped your breast firmly and began to suckle at your hardened nub, your nipple perky, hardening as he rolled his tongue around it. you mewled and moaned drunkenly, cunt leaving your panties wet, huffing and puffing with confusion, and your drunkenness leaving you exhausted and weak.

his other hand began to sink into your panties, and into your sopping wet hole. he could already feel how slick you were, along with how tight you were — he almost felt guilty for doing this, knowing you'd be aching and in agony the entire time — but, his dick weeped and twitched inside his boxers as he rolled his bulge against your clothed cunt. his lips popped off from your nipple, your eyes wide as the cold air against your sore nipple, causing goosebumps to spread along your body, and the wet sounds of your pleasure audible as he thrusted his calloused, thick fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers began to pull your panties down, revealing that glossy cunt that he longed for — that he dreamed and fantasised about. the slickness looked delicious to könig, who couldn't help but free his large cock from his boxers, springing out and hitting his lower, muscular abdomen as he began to push inside, one hand gripping his base and the other spreading your slit open for easy access. your folds latched onto him almost instantly, eyes wide with shock at the ache and pleasure between your thighs, the force of his meaty girth leaving tears rolling down your cheeks.

your chest rose and fell quickly, back arched at the throbbing sensation of his thick dick pushing deep inside of you. könig couldn't control himself as he felt himself grow and drool inside of you, tip leaking with pearly, milky beads of arousal, your eyes glistening with tears at the painful stretch and uneasiness. something was nagging you that this wasn't what you wanted, that something was wrong — yet, you ignored these messages and signals running through you, his hands on your wrist restraining you as he fucked himself hard into your hole, thrusts becoming merciless and sore, the tip nuzzling against your cervix.

tears ran down your face at the sight of your cunny swollen and stuffed with his hot, bulbous cock, heaving and looking around dizzily, feeling the sudden sensation of his tip spurting into you, weeping hot loads of his milky arousal into your pussy, with the hopes of impregnating you.

it's not as if you could stay away from him whilst pregnant; you would need guidance, support... everything was working the way he wanted it to go, and poor you, left defenceless, with his potent seed filling your cunt ‘til a bulge formed in your stomach. :(

[nrdmssgs]

Königs first time with the reader

Masterlist

Pairing: König x afab reader

Summary: you two have been dating for a while, but you always thought that of the two of you, you were always the needy one, and he was just too humble to make the first move. König proves you wrong.

Warnings: smut (under cut), there is almost no plot there, just pure shameless smut

AN: this is an experiment, I wanted to find out if I can write smut without 5 years of prior story and slow tension buildup) I`m still too ashamed to ask for beta reading, so prepare for loads of mistakes.

You were patient. You didn't touch him, when you two weren't alone. Didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and besides the wait was always worth it. Königs` kisses were an absolute unearthly experience. The first one was always light as a touch of evening breeze against your skin. Just a humble request. Hope burning in his chest. But as soon as you answered, pressed your lips to his, moved in unison with him, he was lost. Hope gave way to desire, necessity. His arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against his broad chest. His tongue slipped between your lips, in a desperate urge to taste you. Königs` heavy sighs and muffled moans echoed in your head as he tortured your lips with the most intoxicating touches, cupping your face with his tremendous hands. And then there was his piercing gaze. Silverish eyes never leaving yours, roaming around your face, lingering on your lips…

But this all was reserved for the times you were alone. You knew it well and waited, till your friends leave, and he stays to help you clean up after the party. "Leave it to me," he says behind your back as you put a stack of dishes in the sink. You don't leave the sink. "I need something to keep my hands busy. Otherwise, I'm risking... never mind."

He takes your hand and lifts it up to his face. “Leave.” A soft kiss is pressed against your knuckles. “It.” His hot tongue leaves a wet trail down to your fingertips. “To me.” He gently sucks on your fingers, holding your hand in a tender, yet firm clasp, stopping you from trying to get back to washing dishes. Now that's quite bold of him. You were convinced, it was always you, who was so impatient for his touch, who craved his kisses. But right now, he was proving you wrong. He didn't even wait, till all your guests were gone.

It was a miracle, you lasted so long and behaved so well, saying goodbyes to your friends. König was standing right behind you, waving at the last person leaving your place. No, he hasn't touched you more since that few blissful minutes on your kitchen. He just stood there, so close, you could hear his heart beating faster with every next minute.

As soon as the door closes, you turn around and press yourself against him. König knows what that means. Permission. He leans towards and lifts your chin. This time, the first kiss is not at all meek and reserved. His short muffled sighs are quickly filled with groans. His tongue is so hot, it makes you wonder if König caught fever. In a few moments, that could as well be a few minutes, you are absolutely drunk on his kisses. You grind ever so slightly against his hip to release tension, coiling in your body. You two never went this far, and you don't want to scare him off, if he is not yet ready. But gods, you need him. 

His massive hand slides down your spine and clasps on your soft hip. For a split second you think, he wants to stop you from whatever you are doing. But he instead presses you closer to make friction stronger. He is so eager, you are almost taken aback, and you break your kiss for a moment. König only shuts his eyes and presses you even closer. “Bitte… bitte hör nie wieder damit auf*”- he desperately pleads and finds your lips once again, going for a much deeper kiss this time.

You may not understand Königs mother tongue, but he is good at explaining everything without words. You've been patient long enough, might as well let yourself be more daring this time. So you unbutton his pants, reveling in his moans, while he goes down from your lips to your neck. He lets go of your hips, allowing you to pull back a little, giving your hands more space. You slide your fingers under his boxers and a soft shiver runs down your body. You've never felt anything like that. So huge, so unbelievably hot, you didn't believe, human body could produce such temperatures… So painfully hard and veiny. You release his cock, and König pulls away from your neck and desperately bites his hand, holding back a loud moan. He looks up at you with craving, wet eyes, dark with desire. “Bitte…” he whispers breathlessly. You aren't sure if he wants you to stop or go on, until he pushes his hips slightly closer to your hands. “Bitte,” you hear his barely audible whine.

You smile and put your both hands around his girth, spreading his precum around. He tries to hold back but can't keep it for too long and starts to move, sliding himself in your grip. You look down and feel your mouth watering. He is so massive, so beautifully entangled with an ornament of veins, glistening, like the finest desert. You wrap your fingers around his cock tighter, and make a few bolder, quicker moves. He closes his eyes, and you notice tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. "Oh no," he tries to grab your hands, but fails to do that in time. Heavy drops fall loudly on the floor. It goes on long enough, like he's been holding back too long. "I'm sorry... so sorry, Schatzi*." His breath is absolutely stuttered, he digs into his hand so hard that the skin under his teeth turns white. You press your lips against his cheek and whisper, "It's okay. I wanted this," as he continues to apologize.

"You don't have to apologize, König. We just... shouldn't have taken so long... Don't worry, let me get some tissues and you can rest, okay?" You unconsciously raise your hand and lick your fingers. This does not escape König. He looks up at you and you don't recognize his eyes. Hungry and lustful. When he answers, even his voice is different. Raspy and deep. “Oh no, I'm not resting tonight. Not until you feel as good as I just have.”

*Bitte… bitte hör nie wieder damit auf - Please… please don`t stop *Schatzi - treasure

[comfortless]

God könig and his only worshipper who doesn't try to get him more followers cause she wants all of his attention on her

another strange vaguely Greek/Roman au?! ^^ (also to your other message: no worries!! being too nice would make me lazy!) this prompt is like a reversal of this and i am here for it!

content/warnings: suggestive, König may or may not have killed some guy no big deal..!

It isn’t as if he bestows great blessings upon you or grants your deepest, most guarded wishes…

It’s just that he’s lovely in all forms: the very apex of some marbelesque, masculine statue made flesh. Warm to the touch and so very real and alive that it was difficult to focus on worshiping him proper when your very being sang for him.

He’s probably only some great god of war, Ares, but without the long list of lovers and offspring - only you. There was nothing that he could do to benefit you much, just a humble citizen that had no need of taking up a weapon…

Yet he was so heart achingly beautiful with the docile look in his eyes, the contrast to his stature that bore the look of a proper hunter, you could not keep yourself from returning to him.

All of the other men in the city pale in comparison to the god you pray to, nestled up in the foothills where you make your trek day by day to speak… knowing that nightly he comes to you in dreams with little glimpses of futures or pasts: the things you can not comprehend yet those in Olympus could parse together with such ease.

As his only worshiper, you are never apart for long.

He descends that mountain each time to meet with you in green meadows with the gentlest look in his eyes.

He has no temple in which to pray to… but, you’ve made a temple of your own within yourself all for him. He knows it, knows well when you pray at your feet and he sheepishly orders you to stop that, stand, face him, and he would lend you his mighty weapon any day if you would just ask for him to use it.

Your god deserves and army of men to fight and scramble for his favor, a harem of women to tend to his needs… but the thought alone is enough to leave bitterness on your tongue.

You don’t want to share him, only savor the honeyed words and touches between the two of you, never muddy what is sacred with another’s prayers or offerings.

… Are yours not already enough?

You only find out that they most certainly are the day a suitor begins his arrogant courtship and… within that very hour he is no longer. A stray spear from the pit pierced right through him…? What a strange way to go out. You don’t even think to question it until you find yourself meandering through soft grass for your meeting with König.

He’s a warrior, too, he should know the intricacies of how a weapon that heavy might rise up on the wind just to strike some poor, silly man down before he could even take your hand and lie with you.

You tell him of this odd occurrence whilst you whittle away at a tiny carving of him with a paring knife, König sat just adjacent to you.

First, he tells you that a blade meant for herbs and vegetables is no good for wood. The dull blade is pried from your hands with ease and tossed aside into the foliage surrounding you both. No need for little idols when your god willingly comes down to grace you, anyhow…

Then, he tells you that… it isn’t fair for you to have eyes for any other. Is his presence not enough? Is he not stronger and more capable than any of your puny, mortal men? He could protect you, haul you up to Olympus and make you his bride, give you as many children as you want… Wouldn’t you like that more?

Your stare is so telling, hands shaking as you set the unfinished figure aside, and the words do not come, not when the look he gives you goes from adoring and sweet to near deadly in an instant. It’s the first time he’s offered to bless you with anything but bloodshed in your favor… a peculiar promise of love in return for your selfishness and gifts of milk and honey…

“I do not think I am worthy of that…” The words come tumbling, clumsy and weighty on your tongue. Could he detect the yearning there..? Surely he knew with the way he invaded your dreaming, and even now as his hand finds your shoulder to push you back down into the soft bed of the earth.

“You wish to make yourself worthy, little one..?”

You only nod, once, as your heart finds its way into your throat and your robe is torn away to flutter out with the wind.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The House is On Fire, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling (pt 2)

Yeah you read that right, part two is finally out! Read part one HERE and enjoy the second hurt-comfort part of the fic. I will say, this is the part EVERYONE has been waiting for, including myself. It's a very sweet piece, but it made me hurt because ahhhh they're cute but so dumb!

Anyways,

TW: sorta cheating, sorta revenge cheating, they were never together so is it cheating?, angst (BUT DON'T WORRY THIS IS THE ONE WHERE THEY GET CLOSER)

Wordcount: 3.2k

Art from This Post

The House is On Fire, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling (pt 2)

“Where is she?”

The voice sounded familiar. You were only just able to make it out through the fog wreathing your head.

“She’s in the bathroom,” you heard someone else say.

“How long has she been in there?”

“An hour, I think.”

You blinked slowly. You were roused, but only just. Soon you were slipping away.

A loud slamming on the door had your eyes cracking open again.

“Dude, what the fuck!”

“Who the hell are you? Wait, what are you doing to my door!?”

SLAM.

“Dude you need to leave.”

“Hey hey HEY! Don't TOUCH me!”

SLAM.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“Get out of here!”

SLAM.

A few more shouts, but you heard Shauna as clear as day.

“Wait, König?”

König?

No, that was impossible. König was never invited. Why would he be here? Wait, did you even text him the address?

“YOU NEED TO LEAVE.”

The door burst forth. You could hardly see, but you could see something big above you.

“Guys back up, let the big guy through.”

"Is he leaving?"

"He'd better be..."

You felt yourself get hoisted up into the air. Panic welled up in your chest.

“Shh… It’s okay,” a kind voice soothed you, “you’re okay now.”

“So, you’re König?”

“Get the fuck out of my way, little man.”

You felt a steady bobbing motion as you were carried through the air. You blinked once, twice, and fell back asleep.

—

You woke up in a beautiful bed. You’d never felt more comfortable in your entire life than you did when you stretched your body under the wonderfully heavy duvet. The pillows held your head securely, and when you arched your back you could feel a wonderfully warm body pillow behind you.

“Ach, you’re awake.”

Not a body pillow.

You rolled over clumsily, somewhat panicked and yet still feeling numbed by whatever had been flowing through your system last night. Shit, your head hurt. Did you have painkillers anywhere?

“It hurts, ja? Let me get you something.”

He crawled over top of you to grab something, then bent down to push a pill onto your tongue. You automatically swallowed when he poured water down your throat. You coughed before falling back to the bed. You felt like your stomach was a pit trying to invert itself as you writhed in the bedding. Your head felt heavy and the light filtering through the curtains pierced the back of your skull, pounding with your heart in your chest. What the hell happened last night?

“Go ahead and rest,” König whispered into your ear, “it’s okay. Just relax. It’ll be better soon.”

“I wanna die,” you moaned.

“Shhh, it’ll be okay,” König crawled back to your side and lay beside you, “I’ll be here for you.”

You shuddered. And yet, the bed was so inviting, and his scent was draped around you like a warm mink coat. He was everywhere all at once, just like you’d dreamed of for so long. But why? Why did he have to be perfect after you’d already gone off with someone else? Why was he being so good to you? Didn’t he hate you?

“You’re thinking too much,” König nuzzled into your neck, so close to your gland and yet just far enough away to make it seem innocuous.

“‘M not,” you mumbled into the covers.

“You are, little one,” König chuckled, “think later. It’s time for bed, ja?”

“But… Why are you being so nice to me?” you tried to look at him but he gently pushed you face back into the sheets.

“Rest now,” his voice took a stern tone before thawing like Spring's last snow, “I’ll tell you everything when you get up, but I can’t tell you anything while you’re like this.”

“Why not?”

“You might not remember.”

You wanted to argue, but you were too tired. Instead, you rested back into the covers and closed your eyes to drift back into nebulous darkness.

—

Your eyes finally opened again, this time without feeling like actual death had you in a choke hold. Though your head still ached and swam wildly when you moved too quickly, but it wasn’t as daunting as before. Before? Yes, before. There had been a before. That’s right, you had woken up before.

“König?” your voice cracked through the still air.

“I’m here,” came the reply from behind you.

You gingerly shifted to your back, then cautiously rolled over to see König laying beside you. The bedding just barely came up to his pecs, showing off that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Instead, he seemed to be perfectly comfortable being at the very least half naked beside you.

“What’re you doing here?” you croaked.

“I’m comforting my omega,” he replied and pulled you to him, “you had quite the adventure last night.”

“Did I?” memories of last night came bubbling up the surface, “oh, I did.”

Shaun, Eric, Rick, the woman, the drinks, the fire and the stars, they all flitted through your mind.

“Ja you did,” König chuckled, “but don’t worry, it’s over now.”

“Is it?” you whispered.

“It is.”

You closed your eyes, and despite your better judgment, leaned your head onto his chest. He was so beautifully warm. It was so warm, soft and comfortable. It was glorious. It couldn’t get better than this, could it? It was just so nice to be here, finally, after pining for so long. Of course, he was only comforting you after the disaster that had been last night, but it was something beautiful to behold. In this moment, you could pretend to be his beloved omega, his little pet, his only love. Of course it wasn’t true, but you wanted it to be. Oh how you wanted it to be.

König rubbed your back soothingly, helping you fully unwind in his bedding.

Now that you thought about it, you were finally in his nest. This was where he slept each night, where he scented, where he… Okay maybe your thoughts needed to be reeled back in.

“Are you comfortable?” 

Bless König for knowing just when to interrupt your thoughts.

“Um, well, I’m better,” you stumbled over yourself, words clotting on your tongue like blood in dirty bandages.

“That’s good,” König mumbled. He looked down at you, his blue blue eyes suddenly seeming so sad again. Why did he always look so sad when you just wanted him to smile?

“Are you okay?” you asked meekly.

“Me?” König snorted as his mouth quirked up into a wry smirk, “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m a bit better, but…” you looked down at the bedding, “this is your nest, isn’t it?”

“It is,” König admitted, “it's nice to share, no?”

You wished he’d tell you to stay, make yourself at home for while you're ill. You wanted to hear that you were always welcome here for a bit longer. Better yet, don’t go. Don’t leave him. Make your nest within his own, shape this nest into one for the both of you, make it together.

He said no such thing. Instead, his words hung in the air, tacked in place like dirty stockings over the smouldering embers of a fire.

“Do you like it here?” König asked with a strange sort of hesitancy, “most people say my scent is too strong…”

“I think it’s nice,” for emphasis you snuggled into his pillow.

The muscles around König’s neck relaxed. You didn’t even realize they were tense in the first place. Goes to show how attentive you were to you alpha, you supposed.

“That’s good,” his words clunked together like rusted gears, “I’m happy you like it.”

You thought carefully for a moment. You learned something important last night. Before your memories cut out, before you got lost in that fog, you remembered talking to someone. Right, Rick. That's why you remembered him. He said something to you that set you on edge. Or was it just that he set you on edge in general? You didn’t know, but something felt wrong when you thought about him.

The memory flashed through your mind like white lightening, setting your mind ablaze with fear. Earlier that night, he'd seen you for what you were. You couldn't hide from another alpha. Not from his nose at least. But were all alphas the same?

“Alphas have good senses of smell, right?” you asked hesitantly.

König nodded slowly, his eyes already drooping into their usual melancholic state.

“So you could smell him then, couldn’t you,” you whispered.

König’s smile was so kind. It hurt to look at him smile like that, so pained and yet trying so hard to please you. Weren’t you meant to be the one pleasing him? Why did he have to look so sad, even when he smiled?

“I always knew,” he murmured, his eyes downcast to where his hand lay beneath his great head.

“Since the first trip to the farmer’s market?” you asked.

“The moment you came back I knew,” he admitted, “I always knew.”

Your closed your eyes. Shame flushed through you, ridding you of any puppy love you had for Shaun. Shaun. Now the name sound like ‘shun’, and how you wished you were shunned. You wished he’d hate you. You wanted him to cry and scream, but instead he smiled at you to try and ease your pain.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that he knew. He was never supposed to know, he was never supposed to find out. You tried to keep your voice down late at night, you tried to hide your phone screen from his eyes, you tried so hard to keep this from him but he knew since the very beginning. It was all for naught.

All the dates with Shaun over the past couple of months. Every weekend, sometimes on a weekday. Every time you rode in his car he could smell the fast food burned into your clothes.

“You at least could’ve brought back a doughnut for me,” König chuckled at his little joke, but it only served to twist the knife further in.

He knew about the damn doughnuts. His nose really did tell him everything he needed to know, didn’t it? You felt so stupid.

“I didn’t know you knew,” you tried to justify but even you knew your words were hollow.

“We were never mates,” König’s grin was full of bitter, clenched teeth, “how could I tell you no?”

“But I lied to you,” you whispered.

“You lied, but I did too,” König sighed, “when I saw you leave, I’d try to see others.”

You felt your world collapse around you. He saw others. He tried to get a side relationship too. But unlike him, you never had a clue. All the emotions you’d suppressed for so long came bubbling up to the surface in a great tidal wave, stringing you out in the currents, rending you limb from limb.

He had lied to you.

You couldn’t be mad though.

You lied to him too.

“Nobody stuck with me,” König sighed, “everyone knew I didn’t have my heart in it.”

“Then why did you do it?” you whimpered, tears prickling as your throat constricted, invisible hands clenching down on your windpipe.

König ruffled his messy blond hair, with a sigh. He closed his eyes and lay still beside you. A tender hand gently bushed along your shoulder, down your arm, and then it left you alone. Your skin felt cold in its wake.

“I wanted to hurt you,” he said, “like you hurt me.”

You hiccuped. Were you actually crying? What right did you have to cry?

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry wasn’t enough. No words could possibly heal the damage you’d done. The two of you had lit your respective ends of the stick of dynamite between you, and only now did they meet. Figures that they’d burn out when your head was already hurting and you felt like you’d been battered down into nothing but mulch to feed the flowers. You were finally low enough, at least.

“Why did you want to hurt me?”

You already hated his answer.

“Because I wanted you to be mine.”

The dams in your mind gave way to a flood of tears. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking now. You were pathetic, but in a way, so was he. You both were miserable whelps. And yet, here you lay in a nest together, comforting each other by eating each other alive. You relished in the taste of his meat upon your teeth for so long, but only now did you realize that you’d eaten so much that there was nothing left but the rotten truth on his bare bones.

“I wanted to protect you,” his voice shook like leaves in the wind before a coming storm, “I didn’t want you to love me.”

“But why?” you choked.

“Because one day I will leave and I won’t come back,” König crushed his eyes tight, “I’m going to die out there. I'm going to get deployed again, and one day I'm not coming back. I’m going to die and I’ll leave you behind.”

You hated him. But more importantly, you hated KorTac. No, you hated humanity for waging war, but more importantly you hated the universe for being so cruel by letting you dance this cosmic waltz. Hate. Hate. HATE. It coursed through you, your blood boiling and foaming under the surface like hydrothermal vents. You wanted to gnash your teeth, scream at him for being so stupid, but what was there to say?

If he let you love him, he’d break your heart on the battlefield. If he didn’t, he’d break your heart in your own home.

“We never had a chance,” you finally said.

“No, Maus,” König’s great form shuddered weakly, “not a single one.”

You wanted to beat your hands against his great chest, but instead your hands curled up into your form in two tight balls. He shuddered and quaked as silent tears wracked through his goliath body.

“I was so stupid,” he cried, “I pushed you away and now look what I’ve done to you?”

You shuffled closer until you could press your nose into the glands of his neck, ���No, I was the stupid one.”

“Maus, I ruined us,” König shakily wrapped one arm around you.

You let him press you against him. In fact, you pressed yourself in, unable to stop yourself from wrapping an arm under his to hold him tight like you’d dreamt of for so long.

“You’re so stupid,” you beat his chest weakly with one fist, “we’re both so stupid.”

König curled around you like a cat. His warmth set you alight under the blankets, but you didn’t dare try to pull away. His tears soaked your shirt, the same one you wore last night. He never changed you. He was too good to touch you like that, not when you were so vulnerable. He was a better man.

“Never again,” König hissed, “I’m never letting you go again.”

“I’ll never leave,” your words formed into a ribbon. It wrapped around your heart before trailing down through your wrist, winding up his arm before plummeting into his chest and taking his heart into a snare. The ribbon tightened painfully around you both.

“Promise me,” he sobbed, “promise me we won’t ever do this again.”

“We won’t,” you vowed, “we won’t. We won’t, we won’t, we won’t.

König held his breath, but the sobs overcame him regardless.

“I don’t know if I can believe us.”

“Try,” you urged him, “try for us.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he hugged you painfully close, “I don’t want to do this again. When I found you… I can’t do it again. I’m not that strong a man.”

“Then don’t be strong,” you cried.

“I have to be,” he hiccuped, “I need to keep up appearances. If my team saw me like this… Weak, in an omega’s arms, they’d…”

“I don’t give a damn what they think,” you hissed, “just let yourself love me. Let yourself be weak.”

“But how?”

“Love me.”

He pulled back to look you in the eyes.

His eyes were rimmed with a bright red as tears trailed beneath. He looked pitiful but you couldn’t be much better. Maybe, it was better to be weak. Together, you could be weak. By being weak, you could be strong.

“Will you let me be your alpha?” he asked hoarsely, “after all I’ve done?”

“Only if you’ll let me be your omega, despite everything,” you replied weakly.

“Please,” he gasped.

“Then take me,” you snuggled back in.

König finally pressed you into his scent gland. He rubbed slightly, spreading the oils of the gland across the side of your neck. If you didn’t know what was happening, you never would’ve guessed it was happening.

You’d read articles that said that when someone scented you, you could feel the oils on your skin. But König was different. There was a slight dampness, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d expected something tacky or viscous, but this was nothing of the sort. This was just König pressing himself into you, scenting you like you’d wanted for so long.

Underneath his touch, you could feel your own glands tingle as they took him in. In turn, they coated his neck, claiming him as yours forever.

“I won’t ever let you be without my scent,” he hissed, “you’ll always have me, wherever you go. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

“And I’ll never leave you,’ you promised, “I’ll always be yours. Let me scent you.”

His shuddering calmed as he scented you, coating your neck with his musk before moving to the other side of your neck. When you caught a glance of his expression, it was no longer tearful, but rather clouded by rage and determination. His fangs hung over his lower lip as he began to rub his neck against your other side.

You rubbed against him yourself, coating him in yourself. You couldn't put your finger on it, it was hard to describe how you smelt, but when you pulled him into your gland you could smell him change. It was slow, ever so gentle in how it crept in, and soon he no longer smelt of someone else, some great alpha A stranger, and instead he smelled of you and, more starkly, he smelled of home. You could cry over this alone.

“It’s not your fault though,” you whispered, “I went because I wanted to. You couldn’t have stopped me.”

“But I could’ve gone with you,” he sighed, “I could’ve protected you.”

“Thinking about the ‘what ifs’ never really did much to change the present,” you rubbed the broad expanse of his back, letting your scent coat him entirely.

“I just..” König raised up and pressed into your neck firmly, “I never want to leave you alone again.”

“And I’ll always be by your side,” you assured him.

After another few minutes of nuzzling you, taking turns on each side of your neck to ensure you were fully covered, König finally pulled back to look you in the eyes.

You could smell yourself on him, him on you, both of you, you.

“You’re mine,” he leaned in close, “always and forever.”

“Always,” you leaned in close until your lips were but an inch apart.

Ever so slowly, he leaned forth, pressing his lips against yours in a tentative kiss. Gentle, fearful, frightened even. He felt so light that you feared he might fly away, wings of a butterfly up up and away. You laced your fingers into his hair to tether him to earth, to you, to the promises you made but didn’t know if you could keep.

His lips felt like feathers and childish promises for futile future. The hands he gently took your cheek with were of marble and leather, hardened by battles long since won by men who deserved to run back but were instead forced to march forth. He was eternal might and glory, blood sweat and tears shed by a monolith of marble, but with you he came apart like a thousand shards of porcelain. You wanted to gather each piece, put it back together with gold, but his vase had been shattered too many times. He was a lost cause but you wanted to love him regardless.

He pulled back, but you wanted more. You tried to pull him in again but he resisted.

You lay there in his nest, watching each other for another movement, but none came. You were safe and comfortable.

He let you kiss him again, this time softening into your touch. You were terrified that when you pulled back, he'd be gone. He had been a ghost in his own home, haunting you with his melancholy. Now, you could feel his heart beat with a terrified joy. You clenched over his heart, then let yourself fall back into your nest.

The two of you were dead walkers. You had crawled from the grave long ago, but when you lay together, you felt your heart beat for the first time, throbbing with the ache of disuse and rot rooting through the flesh. With each moment you looked into his eyes, you could see him wake up too. His cheeks were flushed with blood, his eyes bloodshot from years of tears being unleashed in one sitting. There would be more to come, but not now.

Now, for the first time since you both met, you could love.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[multifandomimagin3s]

Them as Dads - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Fluff, hints of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon's childhood was, to say the least, horrific.

No child should have had to experience when he went through.

Those experiences have stuck with him all his days, emotions buried deep down to a point where he doesn't feel them anymore.

There's a distinct divide between Ghost and Simon - and since he's considered legally dead, he has no reason to drop his mask anymore.

Needless to say, when he found out he was going to be a Dad, he short-circuited.

Didn't even say a word, and just left.

Of course he felt guilty for it, and he knew that what he did was wrong, but he needed to think.

The last time he had even been around a child was his little nephew...

And that tragic part of his past truly was the final nail in the coffin for him.

He was terrified of being like his own Father.

He did eventually come back but for the duration of the pregnancy, a cocktail of emotions swirled in his stomach.

The day he held his child for the first time, he was stunned.

This tiny little human, with their little button nose and - his eyes.

He grew angry - angry at his Father, and by extension the World.

How could anyone bring something so small, so fragile, so perfect any harm?

Needless to say, he's a very protective Father.

If any of the Team were to meet the baby, he probably wouldn't even let any of his comrades hold them.

Maybe Johnny - but that's at a push, and he'd be hovering around him the whole time like a shadow.

He'd be soft for his child - but he'd try to be the strict parent, teaching them to be ready for whatever the world may throw their way.

If he had a daughter, would let her paint his nails - would sit there still as a statue, watching with soft eyes at how her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

Speaking of, regardless of the child's gender - boyfriends / girlfriends / significant others would absolutely be interrogated before they even step a foot through the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" "You're 16?? Cunt, you look 30!"

It would essentially be like that scene from Bad Boys 2 - Soap would definitely be Will Smith in that scenario, accepting no criticism~

Would try to be there for every life event and would feel a deep seated guilt if he couldn't because he'd been deployed.

Overall, from day one, he'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let history repeat itself - he'd give his child everything he ever wanted growing up and more.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

I can see him as a chill Dad.

He wouldn't let his child get away with murder, but he would be good cop 99% of the time.

Would absolutely spoil them rotten - they would have to so much as look at something they liked and he'd get it for them.

It would be his Mother that would have to try and get him to reign in the spending a bit.

Also carries the baby around in one of those baby carriers across his chest.

I think he has a big, close-knit family so the child would have a ball playing with all their cousins of mixed ages.

If he had a son, definitely tries to style his baby hairs into a little mohawk with gel.

Lets his kids express themselves however they want.

They want to dye their hair? He's driving them to the shops to get the supplies.

They want a piercing? As long as they're old enough, he's fine with it - and if they want him to go with them for moral support, he's already in the car.

I think the only think he'd be awkward about would be periods.

He'd try to be helpful...but he's not great at handling it.

C/N: Dad, I got my period.

Johnny: Oh - OH! Okay, that's - that's fine...ehh...do you...do you know what to do with it...or?

I can also see him just running into a shop in an absolute panic - asking the store clerk for assistance because he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

Returns home with three massive bags of supplies.

He'd be supportive with whatever they wanted to do in life - if they wanted to go to University, he'd help them with their application; if they wanted to get a job, he'd be helping them look for vacancies, driving them to their interviews; if they wanted to join the military however...he'd be reluctant, but he would never discourage them for pursing anything.

The only thing he'd have an issue with...is if his daughter got a boyfriend.

He'd not be as...hostile as Ghost, but the silent threat is always lingering in the air.

If anyone ever hurt his child, he can switch from fun-loving Johnny to Sergeant in the blink of an eye.

Captain John Price

That child has this man wrapped around their finger from day one.

Would give them the world if he could.

Would never smoke his cigars anywhere in the vicinity of them, and would hide them out of reach - especially during the curious toddler stage.

I can see him cutting up their grapes into smaller pieces, paranoid that they'd choke otherwise.

Has dozens of photos of them wearing his hat - even got them a toddler version of his own because they liked it so much.

Doesn't matter how old they are, they're still that little smiling baby in his eyes.

So needless to say, he's very protective.

Doesn't threaten potential partners - he doesn't need to, he's a Captain in the military, so nobody would be so stupid as to try and hurt his child.

Only brings the child on base when he knows that only people he can trust are there - ie. the 141 taskforce.

Follows the toddler as they waddle around, waving happily as they pass people - Soap ends up joining the little adventure since the little one took his hand and he didn't have the heart to let go.

Speaking of, despite not being given the official title, Soap becomes Uncle Soap the moment he claps eyes on Price's child.

Gaz too - he sent Price the photos he took of them wearing his sunglasses, a beaming smile on their face.

It came as a shock to everyone when they saw the child approach Ghost.

It even shocked Ghost when the child made eye contact with him - and didn't cry. Instead, they smiled, tugging on the leg of his trousers to be picked up. And, even more surprisingly, he did.

Price never has to worry about keeping his child safe - because god help whoever tried to hurt them when they have 4 highly trained SAS soldiers coming for them.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He’d be one of those young, cool Dads.

Buys himself and the little one matching shoes.

Also matching outfits are the thing, especially during the toddler stage.

His kid would be the drippiest kid in the playground.

FaceTimes and calls home whenever he can when he’s deployed, seeing their little smiley face just makes his day so much brighter.

When he’s home he’s more than happy to spent chill days just watching cartoons with them on the couch, making pillow forts - he probably enjoys it more than the kid to be honest.

I reckon he’d struggle to actually parent the child, and would rather be their best friend than an authoritarian figure - ironic, considering he’s a Sergeant.

So it would probably be up to the child’s Mother to reign him in when he’s being a bit too soft or blasé.

Helps his kid build the best Minecraft house.

Loves being able to bring the child on base, showing them off to the Team.

Price secretly loves having the little one around, and they’re often found chilling together in his office.

Would absolutely spoil them - whether it be new toys, sweets or anything they wanted, he’d get it for them without a doubt.

Uncle Soap once spiked up the little one’s hair to match his own mohawk - Gaz wasn’t mad about it at all, and thought it actually looked cool as fuck.

If he had a daughter he would definitely sit down and learn how to do little braids in her hair.

Would also let her put little clips and bows in his hair, painting his nails to match.

He’d just be so soft for his child.

König

When the child was little, Konig was absolutely terrified that he would end up accidentally hurting them.

They were so small, barely even taller that his knee when he was standing, and all he could think about was what if he accidentally stood on their little foot or walked into them without noticing.

So, most of the time, he carried them around.

Would read books to them at bedtime, teaching them German and English to the best of his ability.

I don't think he'd wear his hood around them often, preferring his child to see his face rather than two eyes surrounded by black cloth.

Was genuinely surprised when they didn't cry after seeing him with it on; their little hand touched the cloth before breaking out into a sunny grin, "Dada!"

He probably cried a little bit after that.

He didn't have the greatest time growing up - so I think if his child ever got bullied, he would struggle to compose himself.

In his eyes, his child was perfect, so for anyone to go and make them feel bad about themselves - or worse yet, make them cry, it makes him see red.

Doesn't go and threaten the child - he'd not cruel. But the sight of a giant, masked man looming over all the other parents at school pick-up is more than enough to put the fear into anyone who had been picking on his kid.

Would probably teach them how to fight and defend themselves from a young age - he wouldn't always be around, due to deployment, so it gave him some peace of mind knowing that they would be able to defend themselves.

[shounengirlart]

[akingdomscrypt]

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Two

Pairing; König x m!reader

Word count; ~5.8k

Warnings(?); ...the google translate is abundant in this one. But I did add some translations this time!

A/n: this took me. so. long. Three drafts later, writing each section separately then again for coherency sake.. my hands hurt. Hopefully this was worth the wait! <3

('reader' during the second portion of this chapter^^)

(I think I should mention that this was originally an OC but I figured more people would enjoy it if I made it x reader. So while the appearance is left anonymous, backstory n shit is pretty solid.)

--- "empty note" ---

"Good." The voice rumbles from behind you. You huff an irritated breath and shake your head.

The man grabs your other hand and forces it behind your back. The familiar sound of metal clinking together ignites your fight or flight and you begin to struggle. Panic surges through you and you tug, hard. The rough movement pulls on your fractured arm and you bite down harshly on your tongue to stifle a shout. 

The man tightens his hold on you, gloved fingers digging into the flesh of your forearms. 

"Shit- fuck, damn you, asshole-" You seeth but stop moving. 

The sound of several sets of footsteps echoing through the corridor you had just come from lets you know that he's not alone. The men you'd heard talking earlier at the front desk were indeed with him. 

When you got out of this, and you would, you were going to have a word or two with your handler.. consequences be damned.

You're dragged backward by the grip on your arms, stumbling a bit as you're forced to follow. The man brings you a little way deeper back into the hall you'd just escaped, your sliver of freedom slamming shut in front of you with a dull click. 

The footsteps get closer and soon enough another man is creeping into your peripheral. The tall man walks until he's standing a few feet away from you. You match his glare with a harsh one of your own, not succumbing to that piercing blue. 

"Good job," he says to the man restraining you, stare unwavering. "We're taking him with us. Let's go." 

The man turns until you're facing back down the way you had come, then begins ushering you forward. Three other people are watching you as you're pushed down the hall. One covered head to toe in black, a skull mask layered on a fabric base obscuring his face. Another sports a, surprisingly, neat mohawk and babyface that makes his scowl just that little bit less threatening. The last is a darker-skinned man, his eyes on the man who seems to be in charge as opposed to you. 

The big one holding you continues walking without faltering for even a second. The skull-faced man and the baby take the front charge, leading you two through the halls. The other lags behind to join the leader, the two herding you from the back.

Having three people out of your range of sight made your hair stand on end–but the position in which you had been forced into left you powerless to put a stop to it. So, going against every fiber in your body, you complied. Allowing them to think they were in full control would benefit you in the end, you just had to bide your time.

The journey to the front office is a lot shorter than it had seemed when you were stumbling blindly through the building. The woman who's usually at the front desk is uncharacteristically absent when they drag you through the front door. 

Your breath is still coming out hot and heavy within the confines of your cloth mask, the sudden influx of humid air hitting you and the sun beating down on you only adds to the already fuzzy feeling clouding your mind. Sweat slicks your skin, making your hair stick and your clothes rub uncomfortably. 

It's a good thing the residence you'd chosen was on the outskirts of the town as it prevented too much attention from being brought to the group of six well-built men. It also meant you had a clear shot at running, you just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity. 

You're herded off the streets and into the soggy plains beyond the city. Just a little more, just a little closer.. and you could make your escape.

Your legs are shaky and the pain in your shoulder and thigh have become nothing but a throbbing afterthought. Which would be concerning, if you weren't more focused on keeping yourself conscious enough to make a run for it. 

Your movements begin to slow, sluggishly moving one foot in front of the other. The heavy, noisy thumps of your footfalls and your labored breathing are all that you can hear. When you begin faltering too much, the man behind you shoves you forward–forcing you to stagger like a newborn fawn to regain your balance and pick up your pace. 

After what feels like forever you spot a beige-colored van in the distance. The two men taking the lead arrive first and you see the shorter one speak a few words before nudging the taller's arm with his. As you approach, the two behind you move to the front and you feel as though some weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Now about a yard from the vehicle, the grip on you loosens–but you don't run. Not yet. Keeping your head low, you glance up at each of the four men within your line of sight. Flickering from one to another you gauge their positions, who would be the fastest, and who would notice first? 

The hold falls away completely, but the man remains hovering behind you. You don't move. The five communicate in small, clipped words. None of which have any meaning to you, so you file them as unimportant and focus on making an escape route. 

It would be foolish to just charge and hope for the best. You had no weapons on you, your duffle was back in your room, and each of the men had a visible gun or two strapped to their hip. There was also no way of telling what other weapons they possessed that were simply not within sight. 

So you wait. Wait for the man behind you to take a step back. Wait for the shortest of the crew to hop into the backseat farthest from you. Wait for the second to open up the back portion of the van. Wait for the leader to capture the skull-faced man's attention. 

Then you make a break for it. A shift in your weight from one foot to the other could be easily misread as you simply being tired. After all, you had been on your feet all morning. Another shift and the man watching you would grow a bit suspicious, but not enough to act. 

Launching yourself away with a forceful kick to the ground to gain as much distance as you could with that first step would quickly turn that suspicion into action. His gloved fingers just barely graze your forearms as you dart away.  

For a second you think you're going to get away. For a moment you're hopeful. Heavy footsteps pound behind you, but you've always been quick–surely, surely you can get away. Even injured, that giant could never catch up to you.

You shouldn't have been so focused on him. Should've been listening for the other footfalls stampeding behind you. More importantly, the quick, light steps rushing at you.

In the end, you only make it a few yards before the blunt end of something heavy rams into your skull from behind. Your world is forced into darkness, though of course not before you get a mouthful of mud. 

You wake up in a daze. The ground is moving beneath you and you can't see shit. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears and your mouth is beyond dry. 

You don't last long. And soon enough you're succumbing to that void once again. Though this time it's from blood loss and not being whacked in the head by the stock of a rifle. 

The next, and final, time you come to is by force. Deft fingers dig into the meat of your thigh and your eyes snap open with a cut-off gasp. You're met with a blindingly bright white light, blinking a few times in quick succession to adjust. The fingers disappear, as does the sharp, stinging pain–now replaced with a renewed burn. 

You recognize the man looming over you as the leader from before, and you grimace in distaste. Thankfully, as reinforced by the rubbing of stiff cloth over your cheeks, they hadn't removed your mask. You almost sigh in relief, at least you weren't going to lose your job–then you remember where you are and how you got here, which puts a hard stop to that thought.

"You've had us chasing your tail for a while, kiddo." He rumbles in a deep, British accent. It was the first time he had directly spoken to you and that has you on edge. Why him? And not one of his little helpers? 

Your eyes flick around the room you're in. There's nothing but white, concrete walls–stained with questionable shades of brown near the baseboards–, an overhead lamp, and a well-worn roll-up door to your left. Some sort of storage unit. What remains is you, the man in front of you, and the chair you're tied to. 

Having both arms restrained behind you pulls uncomfortably at your fractured arm and stab wound. You're also bound to the chair by the thick rope looping around your waist and legs. All the movement of your attempted escape and transport from the city to wherever the hell you were now had irritated your injuries–blood soaking through the makeshift bandages and staining your clothes to the point the original color was no longer recognizable. 

A sharp clicking sound has you snapping your head up, yanking you out of your thoughts. You feel the tiniest bit of shame crawl up your spine when you realize the noise had come from the blue-eyed man. Grabbing your attention like one would do a well-trained mutt. 

You grit your teeth and huff, glare burning holes into the other man's retinas. He raises one brunette eyebrow and you resist the temptation to wipe that arrogant look off his face with a few choice words. 

"Did you hear any of what I jus' said?" You don't give him the satisfaction of a response, but the little puff of air from his nose indicates he knows damn well you did not. 

"Listen close, kid," he leans forward a bit by the waist, bucket hat shadowing the upper portion of his face. "'Cause I'm not too keen on repeating myself." 

When you don't reply, he continues.

"You're going to tell me everything I want to know, got it?" Silence.

You needed to get out of here. Needed an escape. But what were you supposed to do with a most likely fractured arm, a recently relocated shoulder, and a stab wound–all on the same arm, mind you. The gouge in your thigh was really just an added bonus. A nice little ribbon to tie it all together. 

"Well ya' certainly aren't the chatty type." He sighs. "Very well, then. But I do expect an answer."

Part of you wished you hadn't been so adamant about going solo–then you remember the last time you worked with someone, and that thought is quickly ushered out the window. Being on your own was kind of your.. thing. You don't mesh well with others. Everyone knew that–your handler, your other sectionmates, hell even the execs all the way up the food chain were aware of this tidbit. It's what made you good at your job, and everyone made sure to steer clear of you because of this. Except for Nina, the damn stubborn bastard. 

"What's your name?"

You didn't really.. have a name anymore. Myš, Maus, Mouse. Really, it didn't make much of a difference to you. You had lost the privilege of having a birth name a long.. long ass time ago. Too long to care about it. Even before your section had given you the title–a bit of an inside joke, a little jest on your height–of Myš, you had only been referred to by letter and number. Like branding on cattle. 

"Alright-" he takes a step back, standing up to his full height. "Fair. What about who ya' work for? Your cause?"

You tilt your head up to follow him as he moves, never once breaking eye contact.

Did he really think you were that stupid? That you'd just up and give the name of the organization that had basically raised you? Had taken you in when no one else had cared to? You try not to think about the fact you don't actually know who you work for. There isn't a name to it–you just do your job. Taking out corrupt scumbags and cleaning up messes. 

"Do ya' even have a cause? Or are ya' jus' killing rich folks for the 'ell of it?" 

You didn't have one, not really. Morals and red tape pretty much flew out the window the second you were upgraded from hatchling to predator. You had a job, and you did it. It's what made you better than the rest. Your first solo mission had impressed even your handler, and isn't that a wild thought? 

A few more unanswered questions and the man is beginning to get frustrated. Even his attempts to poke at you until you snap fall short. Which only makes him all the more annoyed.

"Are ya' bloody mute or something?" He asks, entirely fed up with your bullshit by now. "Or do you' think you'll get out of this by playing the long game?"

It's not like you'd get out by blabbing your mouth. Besides, you were pretty certain you were a dead man if you gave him what he wanted. 

"Look, kid," the way he stares you down makes your skin crawl. "No one is coming for you. No one. No one's gonna save ya'. You're stuck here, with me. So either answer my questions, or I'll have to resort to other methods." 

You know no one's coming. You knew that the second your jerk of a handler hung up on you. 

Still, his words unintentionally rip open a fresh wound and you let out a small snort. He perks up at the sound; as if he's finally found that loose thread he's been searching for and is planning on pulling on it until you break. 

"The big one." You cut him off when he opens his mouth again. You'd rather not hear what other nonsense he has to spout and, if you were being honest, he was a little boring. "Bring him." 

Your voice is hoarse, rough, and pitched low. The man hesitates, then sighs. He doesn't reply verbally, but the way he walks away in defeat lets you know you've won this round.

One down, four more to go.

From the moment the two hulking figures, both masked, had walked into your peripheral, you knew you were in for a treat. The man with the skull face took his place perched against the wall across from you, the other, much larger man pulled out a metal folding chair to place in front of you. Backward with the backrest facing you, he sat with his thighs on either side of it–practically straddling the damn thing as he stared you down.

"So," the one in front of you began, folding his arms over the back of the chair. "Shall we begin?" 

His voice was surprisingly more high-pitched than you'd anticipated. Earlier today–or what you assume was, you didn't really have a great grasp of time at the moment–when you were half unconscious and high as hell on adrenaline, his tone had been a lot deeper. Or, maybe not deep, exactly, just more.. rumbly, thicker. Now it still holds that same Germanic–Austrian maybe?–accent, only a lot more hoarse and almost.. pitchy? No, that wasn't it. You didn't know how to describe it.

You'd be the last to admit it was.. intriguing. Yes. Intriguing. That was the word–that's all it was.

You shift in your seat–or as much as your current position allows at least–and clear your throat. Seconds tick by, and he says nothing. Discomfort begins to trickle in, weaving its way through your nerves and up your spine. Settling heavily at the base of your neck. 

Electric blue-grey bores into your own dull gaze. You break away from it after a tense second or two, unable to hold it for much longer. Instead, your eyes flick to the other man behind him and to the left. That menacing amber is no better and soon enough you're dropping his gaze too. 

You settle for finding a place on the cloth of his hood, in between those gunmetal hues. Not exactly avoiding eye contact, but not initiating it either. Silence lulls on, an uncomfortable weight in the air.

It makes you want to squirm, makes you want to fill the empty void between you and the two towering figures. You were never one to shy away from the quiet–if anything you often found yourself basking in it. The majority of your missions were done solo, so time to yourself wasn't something you really lacked. It was comforting, like a sweet escape from the hellscape that was your home base. Nice. That's how you'd describe the solitary you often found yourself in. 

This silence, though, puts you on edge. It just wasn't… 'nice'. There was nothing to seek comfort in. No crevices of wood and metal to squeeze yourself into, no damp, mildewy grass to welcome you home. This quiet was cold, distant. It stalked around you, judgment in the false pretense of analysis. It watched, it leered at you. Picking you apart, cleaning the meat from your skeleton, and sucking the marrow from your bones. 

The rubber sole of your worn boot scuffs against the floor, unconsciously bracing yourself for.. something. Anything. Anything was better than this. Whatever this was. 

It made you want to open your mouth. Made you want to break that vow of silence you'd unintentionally taken the moment that brunette Brit had spoken to you. Your skin crawled, fingers twitching as they itched to remove the filthy mask that obscured your identity. That chained you to a life of adrenaline rushes, stale corner store food, and blood-stained clothes. 

You couldn't, sadly. No matter how badly you'd like to. It was your safety net, no matter how much you hated it. It kept you anonymous, kept you guarded from the prying eyes of strangers. Kept your expressions in check–like the way your teeth were currently trying to gnaw a hole through the soft flesh of your cheek. 

His eyes search you. You notice. They inspect every part of your bloodied, muddy form. From your matted hair to the peeling, makeshift bandage on your arm, and further still. Down, down, down. Following your exposed torso down to your rope-bound legs, lingering over the crimson mess of your injured thigh then back up again.

If you felt uncomfortable before, now you were on fire. And not in a good way.

You needed something. Needed to get him to talk. Needed to get one of them to do something. So, pulling on the frayed memory of the language, you finally speak. They better treasure this damn victory for the rest of their pathetic lives–which, hopefully, wouldn't be much longer. 

"Du sprichst Deutsch, ja?" (You speak German, yes?) Your voice comes out weak, scratchy from dehydration. You clear it once more and wait.

A small, barely even noticeable, tilt of the man's head is the only evidence that he even heard you. That's all the confirmation you need to dig your claws in and pull. 

"Wie heißt du?" (What's your name?)

Eventually, after a few more terse moments of silence, he opens his mouth for the third time since you two had met. 

"Du zuerst." (You first.)

His voice, no matter how dead-sounding, is the sweet reprieve you've been searching for–a pleasant salve for the aching burn in your chest. You almost sigh in relief at the sound of it. You don't, that's one more hit your ego definitely cannot take. But the point is you almost do, and that fact leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You don't exactly.. want to give yours first–nothing is tethering him to his word. Nothing holding him hostage until he does the same, as he implies he will. What you want doesn't matter at the moment. What matters is survival.

And, well, if you want to get further into his head, you might as well. 

"They call me.." you drawl, noting the way the man's gloved fingers twitch where they rest against the arm guard covering his forearm. "..Maus." (Mouse.)

"Maus?" He says. You can hear the disbelief, maybe even the slight humor in his tone when he repeats it. Even the man behind him–who you'd almost completely forgotten about–gives a small snort. 

You clench and unclench your jaw a few times, fighting back the irritation that nags at the base of your skull. 

"Your turn." Is all you say in response. It's not like it's even your real name–though after over a decade of use, it pretty much has welded itself to you. Stuck on you, just like this damn feculent cloth. 

"König." He says it with a certain air of confidence, and you almost scoff at that. Typical. You're not surprised–a self-assured, military bulk of a man like him. You have half a mind to tease him about it. Then you remember where you are, who he is, and you refrain. 

You look from König to his–most likely–equally egotistical friend and raise a brow. 

"And…?" 

He frowns. Or, at least you think he does. His eyebrows pull together a bit, and those slanted eyes narrow in the slightest. 

"C'mon, König." Ah, another Brit. "Stop toying with the poor guy and do your damn job." 

König grumbles something unintelligible under his breath followed by an honorific in German before redirecting his attention to you. 

"Now that we have finally got your name," he sighs. "There are other more.. pressing questions that need answer." 

"Which are?"

He gives you a pointed look. It doesn't take long before you groan in defeat and tip your head back, recognition hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

"Nein." You grit out, leveling the other man with a glare. "That wasn't me." 

"Then who was it, Maus?" The skull-faced Brit speaks up again, the way he pronounces the word grates on your nerves. You'd simplified it, mainly for the Austrian's sake, and he'd still managed to mispronounce it.

Fucking Brits. 

"Just 'Mouse'." You shoot him a dirty look before shifting your focus back to König–who, while still very intimidating, was a lot less so now that he was speaking. 

"I do not know who was behind it." 

"How do we know you are telling the truth?" 

"Fucking-" you whisper out a few more silent curses in your native tongue. After getting it out of your system, you answer;

"Why the fuck would I hit myself with it? Seems a bit counterintuitive, no?" 

"Maybe your timing is jus' shite." 

"Or, maybe," you're on the verge of losing your patience, and it hasn't even been five minutes. "It was not me." 

"Then who was it?" König leans his head forward a bit, those ice-cold blue hues piercing into your very soul. "What were you even doing there? With that dreary old lady?" 

Your eyes shift from one hulking brute to the other, seeing their goddamn fixation on this minute event, you decide fuck it and give in.

"I am certain you are both familiar with the drill, yes?" That blank stare gets you nowhere. "You are given a target, you go after said target? That is what I was up to–I was receiving, uh, intel on a target."

"Intel?" The Brit.

"Sometimes it is coords, sometimes it's other minuscule bits of information. Like a fucked up puzzle." 

"And this time?" König asks.

"A name." 

More of that stiff silence follows your admittance, but it's not like the suffocating type from earlier. It's speculative, calculating. Probably wondering just whose name you had received. 

Now that you thought about it–you hadn't exactly had the privilege of indulging in that information as of yet. Too busy getting blown up, chased, stabbed, then chased again. And now you are here.

"A name?" The Brit repeats at the same time König questions; "Who?" 

You're quiet for a moment, trying to decide if you want to divulge the little tidbit that you aren't entirely sure who. As if that would help with their nonexistent faith in you. 

"That's classifi-" 

König launches himself off the chair, metal scraping unpleasantly against concrete. You only barely manage to suppress a flinch, muscles seizing up into something that leaves you with more likeness to a marble statue than a human being. 

He looms over you, now standing at his full height. Those paralyzing grey-blues tear into you with an untapped store of anger; made all the more intense with those shadows engulfing all but his irises and bright sclera. 

König leans down a fraction, just so as to keep your focus solely on him and him only. A heavy hand comes down to grip your shoulder, gloved thumb finding the exact point of your stab wound–digging in with practiced precision. It burns, holy fuck it burns. A flame licking up the length of your arm, cauterizing your nerve endings and forcing a low, garbled whine from your throat. You don't look away–finding it nearly impossible to break away from the penetrating stare. A traitorous part of your brain whispers you don't want to. 

"Sie haben nur so viele Gliedmaßen, Maus."(You only have so many limbs, Mouse.) He grumbles out–that same, deep rumble that sends you back in time to your first meeting. "Nichts davon ist nötig, um zu sprechen. Ich schlage vor, Sie wählen Ihre nächsten Worte mit Bedacht." (None of which are needed to speak. I suggest you choose your next words wisely.)

You swallow thickly, and the next breath that leaves you is shakier than you'd like–equal parts fear and something.. something you'd rather not put a name to. It's like the skull-faced Brit isn't even there anymore, only just the two of you. Heavy, strained silence lulls between you both; neither seeming to have any intention of breaking it. A thread dangles in before you, barely out of reach–and you want nothing more than to pull it. To pounce like the predator to your namesake would. To keep pulling and pulling and pulling until the man looming over you fell apart at the seams. Crumbling at your feet. To see how far you could push him until he broke. 

"Moje vrecká." You finally cave in, clearing–for the third fucking time in ten minutes–your throat once more when your voice comes out more affected than you find acceptable. Then you repeat yourself, louder this time for the both of them–now finally remembering the voyeur only a few meters away. "My pockets." 

König doesn't look away, but he does cock his head slightly to the side.

"The lady." Your voice is still less than ideal, hoarse and vaguely hinting at something more primal. It's better than it was, though, and you pin the roughness of it on your extreme dehydration at the moment. "From the city square. She was- was carrying something for me. A message. I slipped it in my pockets when collecting her–frankly quite an excessive amount of–items."

"What did it say?" Ah, so the Brit hadn't completely vanished during the course of whatever the fuck just happened. 

"I don't know."

"Was meinst du mit.. "I don't know"?" (What do you mean by..) The pressure against your wound increases. 

"I mean," you stress, already feeling yourself coming back to your senses. Which, admittedly, didn't mean much at the moment. "I do not know. I never got the chance to read it over. After that damn explosion, then getting stabbed, then you lot chasing me down. I did not exactly have time to sit by a fire n' get myself a good look, now did I?" 

"And we're jus' supposed to believe you?" 

You spare a glance over to the damn Brit–who was increasingly rising in his place on your I-never-want-to-hear-you-speak-again list; quite the lengthy list, you might add. With a huff and barely restrained roll of your eyes, you reiterate;

"My damn pockets." You grit out. "Check them. That is all the proof you will need." 

Skull-face gives a curt nod to König when the latter looks back at him–the hand on your bandaged shoulder disappears. You track every movement the man makes when he reaches in to explore pocket number one. Every hesitation, every crinkle of distaste in his limited expression. Payback's a bitch, after all. Now it's your turn to make him squirm.

"Aye." You drawl when his trembling(?) fingers skirt over the grimy fabric of your waist on their journey over to investigate the other pocket. "A little too close there, you think?" 

"Hält's Maul." (Shut up.) The words come out a muffled rumble, and it takes everything in you not to make another comment. 

After a little more fumbling König pulls out a crumpled, tattered piece of folded paper. It has yellowed at the edges and is covered in an excessive amount of dried mud and water stains. Though no matter how much horror the poor scrap has been through, your handlers' impeccable penmanship should be legible enough. 

You find yourself leaning up in the slightest as König unravels it, also curious to see who–or what–your target is. There's a hitch of his breath, a stall of his movements–and all signs point to the unfavorable.

"Was?" (What?) Those ridged grey-blues seize you again, searching. Was it König? Or one of his associates? Maybe someone the man knew? 

König wordlessly flips the paper around to face you–one would assume he'd show his friend first..–your stomach drops when you read over the red ink you're so familiar with.

Or rather, the lack thereof. 

"Nie." (No.) You breathe. Because, really, what else is there to say? "Nie, nie, nie-" 

"That is not– that is not possible–" That chill creeps up your spine again, but it's worse than before. Worse than the stagnant silence from earlier. It consumes you, floods your system with ice-cold water–fills your lungs, and crystalizes in your trachea. "She wouldn't–" 

But she would, wouldn't she? After all, she'd practically left you to die back when you were bleeding out in that hotel room. Told you that getting the target was more important, not a care in the world for your safety. Then again, there was no target, was there? Not really. It had all been a ploy. A reason to push you overseas–away from everything you've ever known, everything that brought you comfort–and get you isolated. 

No one would look for you. No one probably even knew you were here. Not your old sectionmates, not Nina–no one. You were entirely on your own. Again. But, really, when has it ever been any different?

It was all a farce, a plot to get rid of you–and you had free-fallen right into that snake pit. All of your own volition. The freezing spikes of betrayal quickly melt into white-hot rage.

"That conniving piece of shit-" you grit out, not a thought in your mind except her. Probably sitting in that shitty office chair, squeaky springs and all, with that smug fucking look on her face. Not grinning, no, she didn't smile. At this point, you were convinced she simply couldn't. She'd accomplished her mission, she'd gotten rid of you. Disposed of you like last week's leftovers. There was nothing left for her to worry about anymore–for all she knew you could be dead. "Idem ju spáliť, kurva ju koža zaživa. Bude si želať, aby ma nikdy neprevalcovala, nikdy ma ani nestretla."

She's going to wish she had never been born. There was going to be nothing left when you were done with her. "I am going to fucking kill her." 

"..who?" You jerk your head up at the noise, tunnel vision widening to encompass the two men you had entirely forgotten about–you hadn't even realized you'd hunched over as far as the bindings would allow, fists clenched so tight it was a surprise your tendons hadn't snapped. 

"My fucking–" you cut yourself off, seething behind your mask. It didn't matter how pent-up you were, spilling your life story to these lunatics wouldn't solve shit. If anything it would only worsen your situation. "She left me." 

The confusion in their eyes only doubles. "She fucking- abandoned me. Left me with nothing. Left me to die. Left me with you." 

They share a glance, and if you were any less absorbed in your own mind at the moment, you probably could've deciphered it for what it was. A golden ticket. A weak point. Something to poke and prod at–an advantage. You don't notice, though, and it's a damn shame. 

"She, this person, is the one who sent you here? The one who gives you your targets?" The Brit inquires. 

"Fucking obviously." You snarl. Wasn't that clear? You were only here because of her. Because you'd trusted her to pull you out if things went sideways–or maybe not trust. Never trust. You'd never held any sort of feeling like that for another. No. It was an obligation. She was supposed to follow through, keep you alive, that was her damn job. 

"And what now?" Skull-face.

"You wanted to know what I was after?" 

"...are you going to tell us?" 

"Release me." 

"What?" Collective disbelief.

"Let me go, and I will.. I will help you."

"You?" König scoffs. "Help us?" 

"Ja," you meet those grey-blue hues once more, and grin beneath your mask–it's not pleasant. A twisted thing, really, and if they could see it they probably wouldn't want your help at all. Not that they seemed much interested anyhow, but you could fix that.

"I have resources. I have… leverage. I can be useful." You tilt your head a little to the right, focusing entirely on the man in front of you. He seemed the most malleable at the moment. Perfect.  "Release me, König. And I could make the world bleed." 

The ball was in his court now, but you had a feeling he wouldn't deny you. A slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and you know you've hit home. Hook, line, and fucking sinker.

___

One | Masterpost | Next

~~~

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog

(if anyone else wants to be added, let me know in the comments!)

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Secretary!Reader PT2

Part 1 here.

Master List

MDNI 🔞

>cw: fem/afab, oral

Things at work have definitely changed since König claimed you as his girlfriend.  You could have never imagined how clingy the cold colonel can actually be. Having you file paper work as you sit on his lap, his hands going underneath of your top and groping as your full breast as his lips cling to your neck. His hips moving up and dry humping you as he whimpers under his breath. “Bitte, I’ll be quick.” You know it’s a lie because last time he asked for a quicky, your knees were raw with rug rash from bouncing on his cock, your hands bound behind your back as he spanked your ass raw.

People around base have begun to pick up on the fact that you and the Colonel are definitely an item. He comes with you now to get coffee runs down in the break room, but he just stands and stares at you. His sniper hood making him feel semi-invisible, but the lustful and piercing gaze is hard to conceal. Soldiers noticing but never saying anything out of fear of König. You’ve started to wear a little golden “K” necklace that König got you for your one-month anniversary, (he just wanted an excuse to buy you expensive jewelry but also mark you as his). Soldiers on base questioning if you have a “K” name or not, they can’t recall since no one cared to get to know you assuming König would have fried you by now.

“You have a meeting with the captain on Thursday at 7:45am,” you read off Königs schedule to him. Your voice shaking, barely able to read the sentence. 

“That is so verdammt früh,” König lifts his head from between your thighs to complain. His hands remaining on your tight to hold your legs back, folding you like a lawn chair on his desk.

“Keep going,” you boldly demand.

König nods his head and goes back between your legs. His fingers digging into the fat on your thighs as he holds you in place. He shoves his fat tongue into your pussy as he rubs his nose against your clit. He buries his face deep within your wet folds to the point he can only breath in your musky scent after a long day on your feet working for him. He moves down to your asshole as licks from it all the way up to your clit where he lingers and sucks. Listening to the rest of this schedule being read out by you.

You were hired to help take a load of work off of Königs plate and make his life just a little bit less stressful, and he was going to take any and all opportunities to find ways to help relieve him of this stress.

Back on your already sore knees, you are crammed under Königs desk, settled between his muscular legs with your arms tied tightly behind your back. He leans back slightly on his chair to give you more room. His fat heavy cock resting along your head, precum dripping into your hair. as your mouth struggles to fit both of his massive balls into your mouth. Slobber dripping down your chin as you begin to lick down towards his taint. You can hear Königs voice grow deeper as he talked on his zoom meeting. His hands reaching under his desk to grab your head and guide you to the tip of his cock.

König still hasn’t said he loves you, yet it is obvious. “How much water have you had? Have you eaten? Real food. Let me cook for you.” When you use the key he gave you and you show up at his apartment he is always pleased. There is a spot for you in his closet, in the shower, on his bed, in his whole life. Gently combing his fingers through your hair as you sleep on his chest as he sneakily measures your ring finger.

[captain-mj]

Absolutely begging for feral beast/demon König being taken down, and monster hunter Horangi inspecting him- muzzles and bondage and maybe dubcon???

:)

Horangi trapped the beast. It had taken time. Lot of time. But he had planned this out meticulously.

König prepared himself, his large frame towering and giant teeth snapping at thin air. He went to the bait, a small goat. Several animals had been disappearing so it made sense. He stretched and glanced around, almost innocently. Big blue eyes appearing behind a hood of some kind.

Horangi waited and König fell right into the trap. The chains tangled around his legs and he was hoisted up, body hanging from the ceiling. He wailed and kicked all over.

Horangi grinned and walked over slowly. "You guys know what to do."

The few people he took with him, mostly knights trying to make names for themselves or local village people wanting to be rid of the monster in the woods.

The other people quickly got him tied up.

One of them went to stab him, sword at the ready to go right through König's throat. Horangi quickly hit it away from him, not letting the blade touch his skin.

"It's a monster."

"Need him alive." Horangi hissed. "I'll be taking him off your hands. Don't worry."

"It."

Horangi huffed and turned to König. The monster thrashed in his binds and Horangi quickly leaned down and pulled the rope to tighten it. "Your services are no longer required. You can all leave."

One of the knights went to say something and Horangi loosened his grip on the rope. "One word and I free him."

They quickly backed off and Horangi knocked König out. He figured out transport. It was a bit frustrating with him being 6'10 but a man makes do.

All of this ended up exactly where he wanted to be exactly 14 hours. König, kneeling at his feet. For now, he still had all of his clothes on, but he planned on undressing him to inspect him more properly.

Horangi pulled out the muzzle and fit it between the monster's teeth. Shoving up the mask to do so. He was surprised by how... ethereal he was. A shocking beauty. König tried to bite his hand but since Horangi had his hands tied behind his back with the knots looped around his ankles, poor thing couldn't get the angle to do so. Horangi tightened it, watching saliva and venom run from his mouth. His mouth was wide open, showing off several large teeth.

"Enough of that now. You know why I'm doing this. You're dangerous. Hmm?" Horangi stood up, needing to inspect him. He could sell him. König didn't come from a specific species that he could figure out. Meant he'd fetch more money in certain circles, less in others.

His hands drifted down his back and König's skin reddened. At first, he thought it was some reaction to skin to skin contact but then he realized the monster was blushing.

"Don't get touched very often huh?" Horangi cut away his shirt. Extremely well muscled. Thanks to his height, it wasn't as noticeable, but he was still well built. Next came that stupid hood. Shaggy auburn hair, dirtied by sweat and dirt, stuck up all over and fell in his eyes. He had freckles all over the bridge of his crooked nose.

Something about him felt entrancing. An ethereal look despite Horangi knowing logically he was rather plain. Ears, almost like a cat poked out of his hair.

He yanked his hair and the creature snarled at him, baring his teeth again. Lips stretched thin over the grimace. He chomped at thin air, but the leather of the muzzle just barely brushed against Horangi.

"Maybe I should train you first. No one wants to have to house break something this fucking big." Horangi hissed back at him. So far, König gave no indication he understood him.

König stuck his tongue out at him. His eyes. They were piercing. Beautiful.

Horangi quickly removed more of König's clothing. Despite living away from people for who knows how long, his size and also the fact he didn't speak any human language Horangi could figure out, he did have clothing. Based on the way it looked, patchwork pieces of fabric sewn together, it wasn't hard for Horangi to put together that König probably made them himself. He kept trying to cover himself up from Horangi's watchful gaze, eyes flitting away.

Horangi poured water over him, getting the majority of the dirt and blood off of him before going back to his inspection. König whimpered and tried to get away from his touch as much as possible. His hand on his ribs almost sent him into fits and he could feel the leather bumping against him again as König tried to sink his teeth into him.

"None of that is necessary." Horangi hissed at him, standing over König. König glanced up and quickly looked back down, most of him turning red.

Horangi realized body language was going to be the only way he could really "talk" to him. He kicked his inner thighs and König sank lower to the ground, blushing more. He finally glanced up at Horangi, looking flustered.

"Huh. Big fella, all nervous over little old me." He twirled the knife in his hands and König watched it carefully. His pupils dilated slightly and Horangi moved it closer, watching them take up most of the blue. Like a cat focusing on a mouse.

Horangi knelt down and cut at König's underwear and only got a sharp whimper in response.

"Ah... Big..."

König tried to readjust himself but couldn't. His body was most likely reacting to the coolness of the water, but he was clearly hard.

Horangi stared for a second before trying to right himself. He got his book and made notes of König's attributes. He'd have to get someone to sketch him if he wanted to sell him.

König started to struggle again, growling. Could he read his thoughts? Or maybe read his intentions was a better word for it?

Horangi didn't think, just shoved his foot between König's outstretched legs and watched his curiously. His cock laid against the soft fabric of his pants and König moaned rather loudly before quickly biting himself to shut up. He glanced up feverishly before starting to rock on to him desperately.

Horangi sketched him. It wasn't realistic enough to work as an advertisement, but he could keep this for himself.

König let out the tiniest little whimper and Horangi's own cock twitched.

Maybe he could keep König for himself. He wasn't hurting for money that bad and watching him desperately rut against his leg made Horangi feel hot in a way he hadn't in a while.

König pressed his tongue against the leather as he tried to get to Horangi's hand. He started to pant louder and louder as he got closer, eyes shutting. Horangi grabbed his hair and yanked his head back by his ears before moving his leg away, leaving his hips to stutter in the air.

"I'll have to teach you how to talk. I'm sure you're capable."

König growled at him again, eyes narrowing. He tried shuffling closer to finish and Horangi shoved him back. "Enough of that now."

Horangi got him cleaned up, liking how he looked much better now that he was clean. He put a robe on him to give him a little more privacy. König worked with him, not putting up a fight. Once they were done though, he was back to snapping at him and trying to pull him in.

Horangi had zero clue what possessed him to do what he did next. Maybe it was that he was in a chair in front of König with him unable to do anything about it or the fact that König was still hard and obviously close. But he shoved his pants down and put one of his boots on König's shoulder so he could what he was doing. He coated his fingers in oil and gently pushed one of them in himself. König started to drool, eyes focusing on his hand. His pupils dilated until the color disappeared.

"I can tell you're intelligent. You set traps and knew how to plan. But you're just like a regular human man. A beast under all of that." He moaned softly and watched König's growing desperation. The muscles in his arms bulged and strained as he tried to get out of his binding. But Horangi had made sure the chains were tight and he wasn't getting out of them any time soon.

He closed his eyes tight and stroked himself to finish. He cleaned up quietly before stretching. "Alright, time for bed."

Horangi cut König free temporarily to readjust his bindings. He managed to move fast enough to catch Horangi off guard, pinning him down. Still muzzled so he couldn't bite him. Horangi quickly tried to get his hands but König was flipping him over and shoving his face into the floor. He pressed himself firmly against Horangi's back, snarling as he felt him up.

Maybe teasing the giant monster was not Horangi's brightest idea.

"Raincheck?" Horangi whispered to him and his legs were quickly forced open. "I'll take that as a no..."

König squeezed his ass and Horangi hid his face in his hands. He had kept his mask on and he decided not to draw attention to that fact. His pants were ripped down and he felt König run his claws along his body.

König grabbed the oil. Huh. Intelligent and considerate. Horangi quickly tried to fight against him but a hand on his neck quickly stopped that. He kicked and growled at him, rather insulted.

That one hand kept him pinned as the other dripped oil down his back before pouring some over his hole. Horangi panted softly and kept trying to fight, but he was quickly starting to give up.

He felt König's cock rutting against him again and he worried a little on how exactly it was going to fit. Horangi reached up to grab the muzzle, fingers going through the leather and he felt his tongue run along his fingers.

König moaned softly as he shoved into him. Horangi bit his lip and groaned.

"Tight." König panted at him, eyes narrowing. Horangi went to snap at him for not speaking when König thrust into him, sliding further into his body. The hand in his neck moved to his hair and tangled in it, forcing his head up. He finally noticed the mask and it was yanked down, exposing Horangi's scars.

Horangi tried to hide his face, but König didn't let him. He thrust in hard and Horangi moaned softly. It felt so good, pleasure sparking up his spine.

König let go and pulled out of him. He put Horangi on his back and put his arms under his knees, grabbing his wrists quickly so he couldn't squirm away. He pushed back into him and Horangi threw his head back.

König thrust harder into him and looked down at him. His hair fell into Horangi's face as he tried to get closer.

"Fuck... Fuck..." Horangi made eye contact with him, surprised by how intensely König stared at him. König purred as he fucked into him, not breaking his gaze.

His legs started to shake and he was a little surprised by how long König lasted after all the teasing. He started to get close again and he panted softly, stomach tightening.

König hit his sweet spot hard and he bit back a scream. His eyes started to trace Horangi's scars on his face and he started to lose his rhythm.

Horangi's vision whited out for a minute as he came and he only came down a few minutes later, feeling König come in him. The monster didn't even pull out. "Come on. Out." He hit him gently and König finally pulled out.

He stared down at him before stretching.

"How well can you understand me?"

König made a so-so motion with his hand, blushing.

"Fucking bastard." Yeah, he was keeping him.

[konigsblog]

im back with my bullshit at 5 in the morning, könig looks like peter steele and i stand by it

from the hair to the eyes, similar in height as well...

please, hear me out 😔 i just want to tug könig's long, dark brunette hair and make out with him sloppily.

sucking at his tongue piercing while he plays with your nipple piercings, teasing you by tugging on them while you grind against eachother like horny, little fucks.

and his prince albert piercing? as well as the balls on his shaft? i'd love to run my tongue over them while giving him a blowjob.

[w3r3theli0nshunt]

𝐌𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐛𝐞

𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐅!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tw! Sexual themes, mature language, blowjob, smut, vomit, heavy consuming of alcohol, forest sex, cum eating, slight angst, comforting, fluff, fingering, reader is referred to as y/n, MDNI! This is a heavy one so hold on tight!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩. 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

Freshly transferred to the KorTac army and the exhilaration of holding guns and targeting enemies is a sick burden you carry. You don’t relish on the thought too much or your forgotten childhood. But maybe it’s a good thing, since you’ve never had luck by your side nor the fortune to do as you please and you’ve got the scars to prove it and all of the rights to bury it deep. How you’ve been on your knees financially and the desperation has been clogging your mind as you crawled from job to job for the cash. Despite that coldness and hazy mind of memories that mostly burnt to ashes by now, you still feel the heath lingering in your heart, you still feel the way your heart beats out of love…..for your superior. A fucking miracle, eh?

Doesn’t really help that your superior is so fucking hot that you feel the intense arousal in your pants, doesn’t help either that he always insist on striking up conversations with you or you’re always running into him, wondering if it’s a damn coincident or intentional. Guess you’ll never know…You just wanna touch him, feel him, make him sweat, make him beg for you. Gods, that would be a pleasant sight. You wanna see his tears roll down his cheeks as you suck him off, lick him clean of his fluids and hear his wild moans as you do so.

“Hello? Y/n?” König waves his hand in front of your face to try and pull you out from the fake scenarios you make up inside of your chaotic mind, you flinch and with an embarrassed smile you turn away from his gaze.

“Yea….uh….sorry” You whisper the embarrassment clear as day and the blush unnaturally dark tinted on your cheeks that König spots, suddenly finding the grey, dull concrete wall extremely interesting.

König chuckles as he shares the same scenarios as you did, he feels his cock harden by the thoughts of you and him acting like insane animals in heat in his bed. You letting him take control as he tightly ties your wrists to the hollow bed frame and you let him do as he pleases to you. Shoving his throbbing cock down your throat and the sweet sounds of you gurgling as he fucks it til it hurts. Then when he’s done, he’ll be kind enough to lick you clean off your cum that he had worked hard on with his massive hand and tongue. Your moans will sound like swan songs and your pleads will be because of your devotion for him, you’ll worship him and he’ll treat you like his spouse - even better than a spouse. Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.

The pub is loud, annoyingly so, because the repeating, intense beats and rough bass of the techno music is like nails to a chalkboard. Piercing your ears and forming a slight headache, maybe because of the tension as well because you’re so damn horny that it’s painful. You itch you fuck something, you long to be touched, you long to feel satisfied.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe the alcohol already has its influences on you. The strong liquor taste burns on your taste buds as you chug another vodka shot down your gullet, and another, then another and then a few more as your vision is extremely blurry and your thoughts aren’t lining up correctly by every shot you shove down. You feel a buildup in your throat that you can’t control, so you run to the nearest bathroom and spill out all of the contents in your stomach. The taste of half digested food combined with stomach juices is the only taste you can taste in your tongue and it severely disgusts you.

When you flushed the toilet and rinsed your mouth, in hope of getting rid of that horrid taste, you open the bathroom door and spot a huge silhouette mere inches away from you in the dim lit corridor, you try to walk past the man but he tightly grips your arm, forcing you to stop. And because of your intoxicated mind, you can’t fight back or even think clearly for that matter.

“You’re trying to escape me, Liebe?” König, the graspy voice belongs to König, your hot superior.

You suddenly remember that you’re extremely horny and now that he is touching you only worsen your state. You feel desperate and needy so you try to reach up his mask to pull it away, but König hastily lets go of the grip and back away. You’re not sure why, but you see fear in his eyes and he stands in a protective stance as if he’s trying to stay far away from you as possible which makes you whiny.

“Why did you follow me here if you don’t want me?” You whine as you try to approach him again and he lets you this time.

Your fingers are pulling at the hem of his mask, the very annoying crave to rip his mask off and kiss whatever lips he’s hiding under there is teasing you. But König isn’t pulling away either, if anything he enjoys it. He seems sober, but yet the scent of alcohol lingers on his tight shirt that is exposing his godly sculptured body underneath the cloth. You drool as your fingers are now exploring his clothed skin, you can’t help it.

“Careful, Schatz. You’re on some very, very thin ice” König feels himself being affected by your touching, therefore you need to stop before he goes insane. You’re trapped inside of his heart, tightly wrapped there too and he won’t be able to restrain himself if you give him such hope, and he’ll become furious if it evolves into false hope, so carefully monitor your moves before you fully activate him ;)

You stare up with lazy eyes and red cheeks caused by the liquor, into his green/blue eyes and you see a smudge of desire and desperation. It’s as if he’s silently begging you with his eyes, so you push your body up hard against him to test that theory. You feel his huge bulge poking you through his pants and you feel the desire to rip those damned clothes off of him, you can’t stand another minute of being untouched. You bury yourself in his scent and moan in satisfaction.

“Superior, pl-please. I want you so fucking bad”

“I-I need you too, Schatz” König moans as he feels you rubbing against his bulge intentionally to increase his sex lust which you succeed with as he grabs your arm and pulls you out of the war and you struggle to maintain on your feet due to the heavy intoxication.

Your impatience is running low and you’ve been walking forever in the cool night air, so you pull away when you’ve reached a semi private place. It’s in a forest where the leaves of the trees rustles and birds chirp cute melodies, a fucking Wizard of Oz scene. König turns around and look at you with puppy eyes almost preparing to cry out of frustration (he’s as frustrated as you are), he thinks you’re rejecting him, that his massive bulge in his pants has been for nothing.

“S-sir, I can’t wait much longer. N-need you n-now”

“Schatz, it’s only a few more minutes before we reach the cabin. Hold on”

“Nooooo, I can’t anymore. Please, let’s do it now”

“A-alright”

You sigh in content as you rush to König and begin working on his clothes, with your shaky fingers rummaging everywhere on him except the right places to pull of his clothes, your intoxicated mind is making this difficult and testing your patience that is awfully slim right now. König chuckles and takes off his clothes until he stands butt naked in front of you. You take in the beautiful sight. The way the hair on his body shine in the dim lights of the moonlight and the way his precum is leaking and running down his thick thigh as he stands still as a statue, confused on what to do next.

“Take my clothes off, Hot-ass” You smirk seductively.

König obliges and tears your clothes off mercilessly, before you finally feel free from the wet clothes that only stuck uncomfortably to your body. You rip off König’s mask and his face is instantly morphs into a shocked and scared expression. He starts to heavily pant and tries to hide his face with his hands almost starting to panic, so you cup his cheeks and forces him to look at you. His beautiful eyes staring in complete devotion as you return the favour, his soft lips and the dark stubble on his chin. Then his chestnut brown hair flowing with the cool breezes of the wind. You’re falling in love with him quickly, you feel the way your heart beat hard against your ribs, it’s almost painful, the way you also forget the ability to breathe.

“You’re so goddamn hot. Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” You pant and before he tries to argue with you, you press your lips roughly against his.

König instantly takes the lead, trapping you in a desperate, passionate kiss as he wraps his muscular arms around you to pull your naked bodies hard against each other. His precum smearing on you in the process, but you feel even more excited because of that. Your fingers now roam on his hairy body, massaging him and he groans into your mouth before cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss more. The sexual arousal is at its finest point, now there’s no limit anymore only the huge lust and….affection.

“I’ve missed you so much, Schatz. Never thought I’d ever see Mein Liebe again” König moans between the kisses, but you seem unfazed by the remark, not remembering anything.

“I’ve never known you before. I have just transferred here, sir” You moan back and König pulls away and looks at you with a sad expression that nearly breaks your whole heart.

“You-you don’t remember me? We-we used to be friends. Very good friends” König sounds devastated, but you can’t remember him. The horniness is shrouding your mind, any thinking or reminiscing is only in vain right now so why even bother.

You offer him a drunk smile as you get on your knees, your face is mere inches from König’s cock, you look into his sad eyes that is gazing down into your own , looking for permission.

“Can I? I puked my dinner up and I’m starving” You’re surprised by your unhinged comment.

König gives you a slow, upset nod and you resume to stare at his throbbing cock before your tongue flickers across it. You hear König’s moans and he grabs your head with one hand, squeezing your hair in his hand. Then you start to suck, leaving painful marks on his sensitive cock, his tears falls down nestling into your scalp as you continue to suck hard before taking his tip into your mouth. You lick away all the precum.

“Gosh, Liebling. Keep going, I wanna cum in your mouth!” König cries as he feels the huge buildup.

You insert a few more inches of his cock into your mouth, torturing him with the heath and wetness of your tongue on his tip, playing with it to tease König. You hum into his cock as approval and he releases his cum buildup into your mouth following with a loud groan from him that can alert people kilometres away, a new, bitter taste as the white fluid leaks from the gapes of your mouth. Coming as drops down chin to your sweaty torso. You swallow the cum as if it was a goulasch soup then you pull away from his cock and forces your pained knees to support your weight.

After a few exchange of heavy pants and sweat dripping from the both of you. König rushes to you and pushes you hard against a tree, caging you in with his forearms against the wide tree, some multicoloured leaves snowing around you in the process. Then he pulls you into an intense kiss that’s burning your tongue as he pushes his needy tongue through your teeth, rubbing the bumps of his tongue against yours, lusting for your taste. He groans at the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he rubs his tongue that tastes like liquor and cigarettes. You hold yourself on your feet with the help of your hands roughly gripping his broad shoulders as the intensity of the kiss is making you dizzy, probably worsening the intoxication. Then his hand slides down your body and stops when he’s reached your drenched folds and gently pulling two fat fingers in it as you moan into his wet mouth.

Then the finger fucking picks up the pace and it becomes more rough, more desperate. More enjoyable for you and the pleasure is truly fulfilling your needs. And a buildup of your come.

“I-I want you to cum on my fingers, Schatz” König pants into your mouth and you happily oblige.

You release the buildup and it paints his fingers in white goo, he then release the touch of your cunt and pulls up the fingers to his mouth and takes a lick off the white goo.

“You taste so good, Schatz. Taste it yourself” König moans as he licks his fingers clean of your cum and then traps you into another tongue kiss, allowing you to taste yourself, burying the taste of yourself in your taste buds.

König pulls away and picks you up into his arms with your legs wrapped around his wide torso, arms around his neck and he throws you against the green, humid grass and climbs on top of you. He forces your shoulder down with two jerks before you oblige and lay down. He rubs his sweaty body against yours as he resumes to kissing you, his fingers exploring every corner and inch off you. König leaves wet kisses as he moves from your lips to your neck, starting to suck on your soft skin, leaving red painful marks as he marks you as his. You gaze up the night sky, see how the white clouds travels in the sky, the stars shining as small, yellow dots in the black sky and the moon judging you as it sits still.

You start to feel exhausted and satisfied, you let your eyes shut when they became heavier and more difficult to rebel against. The last sight of the eventful night is when König stares into your droopy eyes and asks you if you’re falling asleep, he instantly cuddles his body to yours and stops kissing you. Then you drifted off, letting the young night pass by.

Then you wake up with the grass tickling your back, the sunlight burning into your eyes as soon as you open them up and a heavy weight suffocating you, robbing you off your air. Your gaze around your surrounding, your mind finally starting sober up, you see your superior relaxing on you with soft snores and small whimpers as if he’s having a nightmare, his large arms hugging you tightly against him. You wonder how the hell you ended up naked, in a forest, with your hot af superior. You blush in embarrassment, not knowing what to do and how to get out of his tight embrace without waking him up. Confrontation can wait, at least until you sober up and don’t have a painful headache.

“P-please don’t leave me. Don’t! Please! Y/n!” König whimpers as you try to snake your way out of his embrace, but he grabs you and pulls you back while still being in the REM state, and you instantly feel bad about making up a plan to escape his very comforting embrace and leave him alone on the grass to escape the embarrassment. So you stay and start caressing his hair, trying to soothe him.

“Shh, you’re safe, König. It’s only an nightmare” You coo into his ear and you feel his arms tightening around you and he buries his head in your chest, and you feel the wetness of his tears staining your bare chest.

“Don’t go. I don’t want you to go, y/n” König mumbles into your chest and you feel your heart flutter by the way he’s begging you to stay, the fact that he wants you to stay. It seems as if the gods above have heard your wishes and made them come true, you’re silently thanking them. Does he love you too? And will you need to tell him how you feel?

“I won’t go, König. I’ll stay here” You hesitate for a while, but then says “I’ll always stay if you want me to”

König wakes up from his nightmare and looks up into your compassionate face through his tear stained eyes that reeks of fear and despair. A unfamiliar look you’ve never seen on his face before.

“Do you promise? Will you stay for me, Schatz?”

“Do you want me to?” You dry his tears with your thumbs as you cup his cheeks.

“If I say I never want you to leave me again, will you say yes?” Your heart flutter and you almost felt at loss of words.

“I-…I’d really like that! Oh uhmmm. I meant, I’d like that” You cough to try and hide the embarrassment by your very enthusiastic reply, you earn a chuckle from him and a long peck on your lips.

“Mein Liebe” König says as he pecks your cheek and he’s suddenly tossed you into the pits of reminiscing, where you suddenly remember that your childhood friend used to call you that - as a joke ofc. But you never thought your childhood friend would become such a handsome man, let alone joining the military.

“Wait….I’ve heard that before…are you-“

“Yes, Mein liebe, I am. And we’re to be wed next week. We made a promise as kids and I intend to fulfil it”

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