#serial killer!konig | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dontyouworrydaddy · 1 year ago

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I have a more dark ask for you, so feel free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable. How would TF 141, Konig and Los Vaqueros react when they realize their s/o is a wanted serial killer? They would probably be shocked that such a kind and sweet woman is hiding such a dark secret. To add to the moral ambiguity, she only targets child abusers and rap!sts. Thank you and sorry in advance if this request upsets you.

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧‘𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞?

Task Force 141 (+ König & Los Vaqueros) x fem! reader

Hi! First of all, I feel absolutely comfortable to write about dark themed stuff :) So it’s totally fine and I‘m actually excited to write this. This might take a bit longer than the others, since I think this is a very interesting and good idea.

Love you! 🩷

✩｡:*•.��──── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

König

He usually never forgets where he puts his phone. But this time he didn’t know where he put it, so he took your phone to calm himself. But as he unlocks your phone he sees a text coming up and at first he tried to ignore it, since he respects your privacy. But one specific word and a name gained his attention…

Job- Josh Williams

What was this Job? You work as a nurse at the hospital. And who is Josh Williams? Is it someone you are treating? But he for sure would know if you told him about a Josh. Curiosity took over him and he clicked on the notification, wanting to find out what this Job is and who the hell Josh is.

Job- Josh Williams

Child abuser. Was on court, got away with it. Mother is scared he might do something to them. Current Location: England, London. Last seen in Bar Soho, alone. You know what to do Ashley. Send a picture of the body as soon as you’re finished. Good luck.

König was shocked. This got to be some sick Joke. Your name is not Ashley and you definitely wouldn’t harm someone. You can’t even kill a spider and start crying when König tells you to just do it. But he decided to swipe and he sees the conversation between you and this person. And then it clicks.

Ashley, the wanted serial killer in England and Austria, is you? That doesn’t make sense. No.

He lets the phone rest on the kitchen table and calls for you. You were in the bathroom, taking off your make up and getting ready for bed. You just got home from a long and exhausting shift. Or were you really at the hospital?

"Yes, love?“ you enter the room and you see him looking at you. But something was strange. Why is he wearing his mask? And why is he looking at you like you killed someone?

"You’re Ashley?" his voice cold and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Your smile quickly drops and you look at him completely baffled.

"How?" your voice low and you look down. How could this happen? You made sure that no one ever finds out your true identity. The only thing you let the world know is that your name is Ashley, which is not true, and that you’re fighting for justice, since the government is failing so many women and children. The person who is sending you all these details is your best friend. König likes her because he knows that she is a good influence and you grew up together. But you’re not gonna expose her. Your eyes land on your phone and you don’t know how to feel. Mad because he was on your phone. Or scared that König might tell on you now.

"I can explain" you tell him and he doesn’t break the gaze. You take a step forward but he takes one back. You stop at his reaction and you could swear you felt your heart drop.

"König. I swear I don’t kill innocent people. Only rapists and child abusers. And only then when the government is not doing anything. These women and children are scared and don’t dare to go out because they never know when they might get killed. I swear to you." you desperately explain and your body needs a reaction from him, but he doesn’t react at all. He looks to the side and you wish you could see how he feels now. But he decided to cover his face again, making it hard for you to know how he feels right now.

"Ashley, huh?" his voice is harsh. You don’t dare looking at him. The weight of disappointment settles upon you soul like a leaden cloak, suffocating and heavy, the jagged edges of their expectations carving deep grooves of remorse through the tender fabric of one's self-worth, leaving behind a bitter residue that stains the heart's delicate tapestry for eternity. It is a hollow ache, an echoing chasm where warmth once resided, as the realization of your inadequacy seeps through the cracks of shattered trust, forever haunting the corridors of the conscience with its haunting refrain of missed opportunities and shattered dreams.

“Leave, please" his frigid and callous voice erupted like an icy tempest, each word crystallizing into shards of anguish that pierced the very depths of your soul, leaving behind a lingering ache that whispered of betrayal and shattered trust. You look at him and you can feel the tears build up in the corner of your eyes. Please, no…

“Y/N. Please. I just need time to think” for a second, you hesitate. You don’t want to leave. You both know that what you’re doing is a good thing. Making Women and Children feel safe. But he can’t think straight right now. And you respect that. So without saying anything, you leave, hoping for him to call you as soon as possible. Because your heart can’t stay away from him.

Simon Riley

"Job is done. Payment should follow like usual. Don’t call me unless I call you." you whisper-tell you secret boss. Simon doesn’t know anything about your secret life. You were working as a secret assassin whenever Simon was deployed and when he was at home, you were a nurse.

As you turned around, you saw Simon leaning against the doorframe, looking at you like you were his enemy. At this sight, your heart dropped.

"Simon." you innocently spoke and hid your phone in your back. You smile at him and look at his cold and stony eyes. You felt your heart beat faster and you hope that he didn’t hear you talking about the mission.

"Where were you?" his voice deep and harsh, causing you to jump, since you’re not known to this side of Simon. He would never talk to you like that. He promised himself to be better for you. You gave him nothing but love and comfort so he promised you to be better than ever.

"At the hospital" after these words leave your lips, he starts laughing and shaking his head.

"stop lying" he suddenly yells at you. You take a step back and drop your phone, letting it crack against the cold and hard floor of your shared bedroom. "Where. Were. You. I saw you leave a house. Who was it?" he takes a few steps towards you, closing the distance between you and him.

"Simon. It’s not what you think about." you barely whisper and he lets out a deep chuckle. "Then what is is?" he softly grabs your face with one hand. He usually did this when you weren’t holding eye contact. And now you don’t know how to react. You are already exposed, so you can also just tell him what you did. But if you do, you need to leave tonight. The chances of him calling the cops is too high. Especially when he finds out you’re one of the most wanted female serial killer.

"I killed someone. Someone not innocent. Will Ricksen. He raped his wife and got away with it because he owns a company in the US. The wife got in contact with us because she got threatened by him and she doesn’t want to live with fear anymore. I didn’t cheat on you. I could never. I only kill child abusers and rapists that get away with it. I swear to you, I would never kill someone who is innocent." you close your eyes, afraid to look at him. You were waiting for him to yell at you, scream and tell you how much he is disappointed in you. You were waiting for him to do anything that would break you down, but it never happened. Instead, you felt his rough hands patt the top of your head. And then, the unexpected happens.

Simon pulls you in tight hug and kisses the back if your head. This reaction of him left you confused and baffled. You hesitantly hug him back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

"Don’t get caught." his voice was trembling and it felt like the inner child in him just spoke. You knew about his traumatic past and you understand his feelings. If you had the chance to kill his father, you would. When he told you his story, you cried. You hugged him so tightly, you were afraid to let go of him.

He didn’t let you go and he reassured you that he won’t tell anyone.

John MacTavish

”The fuck you mean?” you hear your boyfriends voice yell from behind you. You turn around and look at him and quickly end the call. You hope that he wasn’t talking to you but his facial expression and gesture are telling you otherwise.

“What do you mean Josh is dead? Why did this person called you Angela?“ his voice filled with anger, confusion and sadness. His face looks nothing like his usual one. Once, his countenance was a sanctuary of warmth and solace, a sanctuary where his eyes danced with affection and his lips bloomed with a sweet smile that embraced my every arrival. But now, that tender refuge has crumbled into a barren wasteland, where his gaze sears with icy disdain, casting shadows that echo a painful question: "How can I fix this? How do I tell him?"

“Johnny. Please let me explain…" you desperately beg him to let you explain what exactly is going on but it looks like that he has heard enough.

"Don’t call me Johnny. I loved you, Y/N. And now you’re lying to me? You’re a murderer? What exactly do you expect me to say? Oh yeah it’s okay it’s totally not quite the opposite of my Job. Funny, the guy that protects people is dating someone that harms them?" his frustration got the best of him and he doesn’t care if he is hurting you right now. He feels betrayed and hurt. And he wants you to feel the same things. You don’t mind. If your positions were swapped, you would have reacted the same way. But you wish he would let you explain now.

“John. Please. Let me explain. I‘m begg-" you were cut off by him smashing the class on the kitchen table against the wall next to him. You flinch and you feel your heart beat faster than usual. You could feel yourself getting pale.

“Why? I don’t get it. I don’t want to see you.” his cold voice spoke and you felt your heart stop beating. No.

"John, please" you took steps towards him, trying to fight for him, trying to show him that you’re not a bad guy.

"Stop." his harsh voice yelled at you and you stopped right where you are. "Don’t. I love you. But I need some time now. I won’t tell anyone. Just- leave me alone now" without looking back, he smashed the door behind him, making you flinch and leaving you there, heartbroken and angry at yourself. You don’t regret anything. You only regret letting him find it out like that.

John Price

In the dimly lit living room, tension crackled like static electricity between John Price and you, as the weight of unspoken grievances strained the fragile threads of your relationship. The air grew heavy with unspoken words, suffocating the room as your gazes clashed like opposing storms, each thunderous stare hinting at the brewing tempest within.

"John. I swear I‘m not betraying you. Give me a chance to explain! PLEASE! I swear on everything that is important to me, it’s not what you think" you beg him to let you explain your situation. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. He wasn’t supposed to know at all. Why couldn’t you talk a little quieter? Why did you even answer the phone, knowing John was at home.

"Shut up! Stop talking!" with a voice tinged with restrained anger, John's steely gaze bore into you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. It was as if the unspoken accusations hung like a heavy fog in the room, obscuring the truth and suffocating any chance for reconciliation.

As the argument escalated, voices rose, echoing off the walls like distant thunder, their words slicing through the air like sharpened blades. Frustration mingled with regret, staining the once sturdy foundation of trust that had held your relationship together. The silence that followed was deafening, a void filled with unanswered questions and shattered hopes.

"I‘m leaving" with a pained expression etched on his face, John turned away abruptly, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he left you behind, adrift in a sea of unanswered emotions. The weight of his absence settled heavily upon you, the room now filled with a haunting emptiness, leaving you yearning to fill the void and desperately longing for a chance to explain, to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

But for now, all that remained was the echo of an unfinished argument, the lingering ache of shattered camaraderie, and the unanswered plea to understand what had gone so horribly wrong.

You wish he let you explain.

Kyle Garrick

As the sun cast its warm glow upon the bustling city streets, you found yourself standing face-to-face with Kyle, a knot of tension coiling in your chest. Emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as the air crackled with the impending storm of their argument.

"You, Kyle…" you began, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and hurt, "cannot simply just not give me a chance to explain and expect me to accept it without question. You always let me explain. What’s happened now?"

Kyle's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and weariness. "You being a serial killer" he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "I- You‘re the complete opposite of me and god I don’t know what to say. You kill people? What if they find out? You could get into Jail."

"But Kyle," you pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into your voice, "I just want to understand that I need a chance to explain."

Silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words pressing upon them both. Kyle's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice filled with a mix of sincerity and vulnerability.

"Y/N" he murmured, his voice gentle yet laden with uncertainty, "I need some space. I need time to think, to sort through everything. I have to figure things out on my own."

A lump formed in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. The reality of the situation washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling adrift and uncertain. Nodding slowly, you whispered, "Kyle- I understand. Take the time you need. Just... promise me you'll come back."

He didn’t even look at you before he responded "Stop" he said, his voice filled with some kind of sadness and disbelief "Just give me a little time."

With those words, a bittersweet ache settled in your heart, as you watched Kyle retreat into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the hope that, in time, you would find your way back to each other again.

You wished he never found out. But you don’t regret any single thing.

Alejandro

The dusty wind whispered through the corridors of the hidden military base, carrying tension on its ethereal tendrils as Alejandro and you found yourselves embroiled in a heated argument. Snd this only because he went through your phone, for an unknown reason, and he found the photos of the people that got away with Rape. But he didn’t know who they were, so he thought you were hurting innocent people, which you could never do.

"I ONLY HURT PEOPLE WHO HURT PEOPLE" Your voice clashed, words laden with frustration and hurt. The walls trembled with the intensity of the exchange, the air thick with unspoken fears and unmet expectations. Alejandro's piercing gaze met yours, his jaw clenched with a mix of anger and concern. "Mi Amora" he growled, "your job is at the hospital. And now you‘re a serial killer and…"

But defiance burned in your eyes as you stood your ground, your voice trembling with determination. "This is what I do, Alejandro. I protect these people, just like you do. I can't sit idly by while others suffer. It's in my blood. And I will continue protecting these women and children who cry for help!"

Silence settled between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Alejandro's shoulders sagged, and his gaze softened, shimmering with unshed tears. "You're right," he conceded, his voice filled with both admiration and fear. "You're brave, stronger than anyone I know. I'm proud of you for fighting for what you believe in, for protecting those who can't protect themselves."

The words hung in the air, bridging the gap between you. Emotion washed over both of you, dissolving the anger and replacing it with a newfound understanding. Alejandro pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms a shield against the uncertainties of your chosen path.

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notknickers · 1 year ago

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RAAHHHHH IM DEF SUPPOSED TO BE MAKING A FRESH BATCH OF DOUGH BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HUNT!KONIG LEAVING PRESENTS AT HIS S/O’s DOOR LIKE A CAT!! Like its literal gifts at first- flowers he picked,

Then a rat

Then someones ear.

Kinda like van gogh 🤭

Wanting to treat his significant other right.

You have given me a PROBLEMM AUGHH

glad to be of disservice *salutes you

but also, that's so sweet. he loves you so much that he brings you trophies like a serial killer little gifts like a cat.

you are part of his pack/colony/family. hope he brings you many more!

why don't you try dangling one of those tickly feathery cat toys and see if he likes that?

careful how you do it, though. he and his hundreds of kilos of muscles might pounce you and crush you, the little, eager panther that he is! always aim the toy away from yourself.

snarl purr roar goes the werepanther hunt!könig ♥

make him a nice, comfortable crate with a little nest made of soft pillows and blankets: you probably don't want him sleeping in bed with you when he comes back from a hunt, all covered in mud, blood, leaves and patches of fur of unknown origin.

don't be afraid of being assertive, if he tries to hop on the bed all the same or makes those kitty eyes trying to wear down your defences.

sometimes love comes in the form of discipline and rules: he should understand that.

#eyerotyourbrain #asks #könig #konig #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #hunt!könig #könig x reader #konig x reader #tma #tma/cod crossover #the hunt

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soullessdianthus · 4 months ago

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Randonautica & Serial Killer!König

— Randonautica is an app that randomly generates coordinates that enable the user to explore their local area and report on their findings. According to its creators, the app is "an attractor of strange things".

Warnings: dark themes under the cut, murder mentioned, kidnapping, non con, forced pet play

It was your friend's idea to try out the new app thingy going viral, while being absolutely wasted. Now, you were hiking all alone in the dense, secluded forest to find the spot the app chose just for you. The pin happened to be located by the lake in the middle of the forest, therefore you were hoping for the beautiful view.

What you weren’t expecting was to notice a strange man with a black hood over his head, staring at you from behind a bush. You froze in place like a deer caught in the headlights, before your instinct told you to run.

But despite your effort, the man was faster, and he quickly knocked you down onto the forest’s floor and then picked you right up over his broad shoulder.

— What a silly, silly girl — he spoke slowly with a mocking tone. — How do you think the app works, eh? I lead you here and you obediently came into König’s arms.

The man took you to his cabin in the woods, deep in the forest and far from the roads. König brought you down to his basement filled with horrendous tools. Butcher’s hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling, floor covered in dark stains, copper smell filling the air.

You felt sick to your stomach, when you realized you happened to be the next victim of a serial killer.

König was impatient and tore your clothes off, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze. You didn't deserve that dignity either.

— A pet doesn’t need these rags, I’ve got something better for my pup.

A thick leather collar was tightly wrapped around your neck. He would pull you by it, control your every movement as he had seen it fit, especially when he forced his monstrous cock into your throat. His other hand would tighten around your hair, pulling by the scalp and preventing you from biting him. König seemed to get off on the sight of your tears stained face. He was a sadist after all.

Your kidnapper would forcefully train you into being his obedient pup — crawling on all fours when around him, humping his boot when he told you so or sitting on his lap, warming his cock after a long day while his hands were still bloodied from the latest, grotesque murder. Every sign of disobedience was to be punished — ass and back of the thighs spanked with a belt so hard, you wouldn’t be able to walk nor sit properly the next few days. :(

The threat of König breaking your legs or cutting them off if you try to run away lingered in the air on a daily basis.

He quickly fell in love with the ways he can abuse your pretty body and how you responded to him. The way you were so hopeless and petrfied underneath him, when he decided to force himself into your sore cunt, only made his cock harder and balls fuller.

He would use your sweet, supple body over and over again until his appetite would be sated. You better quickly adapt into this sick game, because really you don’t want to find out, what would happen when he would finally get bored with you.

#dark fic #serial killer!könig #serial killer!konig #tw: noncon #tw: rape #könig #konig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2

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bimbo-jk · 7 months ago

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Please Read!

i plan to get back into writing but it won’t be for bts anymore, as much as i do still love them i just think ive kinda outgrown writing for them? i’m not rly sure how to explain but ive had no genuine interest in continuing fanfic for them, or kpop in general. i’ve kinda moved towards fictional characters. i plan to move blogs entirely and take down the two i have, which is this one and bbbrats. or maybe i’ll leave them up? idk. i’m not sure where i stand with them, but if you are interested, or any of my long time moots want to come along, just leave a mark on this post and i’ll tag you guys on the new account! if you’re interested in who i’ll be writing for (fictional serial killers i.e michael, pyramid head, ghostie, etc. simon ‘ghost’ riley + the other cod men (konig, soap, etc), and plenty more), i really suggest checking me out. i’ve grown a lot in my writing skills and i’m excited to start another writing path here. if you don’t wish to come along, feel free to unfollow. thank you for supporting me thus far and i’m sorry i’ve lost interest/motivation to continue writing for the kpop fanfic community. 💕

#personal #update #i’ll begin working on my new blog tonight #probably won’t have anything POSTED for a little while i make sure its to my standards #but i have a lot of blurbs and drabbles sitting around.#anyway thanks for reading

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months ago

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König x Housekeeper!Reader? He was expecting some little old lady, not a college student looking for an extra side hustle to pay their tuition. He can already picture them as a housewife as they work around his mess of a place.

You're playing with the poor man's heart! When he was signing up for the weekly maid services, he hoped that it would be different people each time. Calling in for a housekeeper and a cleaner is already embarrassing enough at his grown age - there is a voice inside his head that tells him he should man the fuck up and stop being so damn difficult about watching over his own house, but having a regular maid who would know just how messy his life is...yeah, he was not having it. He needed someone old and boring, someone who, preferably, doesn't even speak German so he won't have to awkwardly master the conversation. He got you instead. You're...you're fucking perfect. In cozy and comfortable clothes, nothing that hugs your body and suggests something innappropriate - and yet every time you bend over, he can't help but imagine the way your ass must look under these baggy pants and has to fight the urge to just grab your waist and slam his erection against the curve of your hip. You're eager to work, you buzz around the messy house like a busy bee you are - there isn't much of his personal items inside, but his clothes and various gear laying around does make it a messy space. You were wondering if he is either a soldier or a serial killer, judging by the amount of weapons you got laying around...but it's better to not ask this question. You just needed some money, and the maid services are paying on the day of work - with repeating clients actually sometimes leaving you a nice tip or something to eat if you were to clean their houses at the dead of the night...it's really nice, somehow. Konig just can't keep his hands to himself sometimes. You look too adorable not to compliment on how you look - although he never dares, usually just staring at you from the corner. You're probably thinking he is afraid of you stealing something, but it's not like you really care about any of this, to be completely honest...you just want to keep your head low and get money. Unfortunately for you, Konig has a thing for housewife and domestic life. One time you were doing the routinely cleaning and it got really late - and with Konig literally having his house as far from civillization as possible, ass the buses were already leaving from the stations, leaving you stranded until the morning...and you'd be fucked or in for a very hefty taxi bill if it weren't for Konig oh so generously allowing you to spend the night at the guest room. You knew each other for a few months already, and the guy is harmless...naturally, you agree. Naturally, you never left this house without him again.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

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Now I don't want to ruin anything for anyone... And I'm lovong mean Konig getting all soft BUT! We are maybe... Just a teeny tiny bit.... Getting a little Ed Kemper with it. Maybe.

Ahahaahaha 😂😭

I kinda get what you mean, but I like to think we veer away from creepy serial killer vibes because he ends up running away from his family and finds a purpose in his work.

I think having a rough backstory like I put in my posts from before is a pretty good explanation for how mean König was shaped into the person he is. He’s awkward and not good in social situations because he didn’t grow up having many people that wanted to speak to him. He lashes out and enjoys degradation because it’s easier to put other people down first than wait for them to do it to him.

He’s not a complete brute, he is capable of normal behaviour and conversation to a point. Though I think in general he’d probably just be pretty quiet to most and maybe abrasive or scary to others. He’d look after the people under his command, but he wouldn’t be particularly caring toward them. Newbie’s the first one to unlock his soft and caring side.

#mean könig

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skiplo-wave · 2 years ago

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they're not related in canon whatsoever, idk if activision has any plans but krueger was in the game before könig. also it's really funny because könig was german before he was austrian so they changed it and my guess is so he'd be closer to krueger in this game but from what i've seen krueger fans hate könig as a replacement lol

Hm saw theory they are same person. Learning Krueger is a serial killer I can see him changing name but keeps mask on.

However reading Konig full bio I don’t think that’s the case.

I see two big tiddy mysterious mask men with military gear on ( + personality lol)

#asks #call of duty #Krueger #König

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months ago

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Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja?

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You.

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order.

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee.

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife.

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives.

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment.

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all.

— Your coffee, master.

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask.

— Do you have a boyfriend?

Oh.

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening.

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it.

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly.

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for.

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful?

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are.

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment.

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket.

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible.

— But I can make an exception!

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day.

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business.

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long.

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately.

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say.

God, this is hopeless.

— Can I get my special offer now?

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you.

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you.

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this.

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already.

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass.

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him.

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here.

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return.

And he does have your number with him.

— Are you happy with the pictures, master?

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much.

God, he can’t wait to make you his.

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #loser!konig #konig smut #konig x you #cod konig #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #yandere imagines #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #maid #maids

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

Text

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)

You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved. You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.

TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping

CHAPTER 1 You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.

Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun?

Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea.

Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words.

Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place.

— Sorry.

Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately.

You aren’t letting go of the bottle.

The guy doesn’t let go either.

— Sorry, I think I got it first.

You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies.

— Haven’t seen you.

He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too.

— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle.

You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that.

— What do you need this bottle for?

— Important reasons. Secret reasons.

The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck.

Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers.

He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see.

Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you.

But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria.

— Please, sir, it’s getting silly.

— Yes, it is. Give up now.

He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation.

— I really, really need this bottle. Please?

You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation.

In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions.

— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you?

His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head.

— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir.

You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head.

“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too!

— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all.

His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him.

— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle.

He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants.

He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back.

— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine.

— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it!

— You too.

— But I will.

— Just as I am.

He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are.

Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are.

Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm.

Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you.

— What’s going on, Tigeren?

Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions.

You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…

Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…

Did you miss a horse-riding party?

— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko.

— I’m not a tourist.

You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately.

— This is a dangerous place, lady.

The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual.

— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now.

— With my coke.

Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously.

— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold.

— You let go of it, sir.

— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you.

You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears.

— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around.

The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip.

You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night?

He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier.

Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you.

You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards.

Nothing.

God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…

— On me. Move your ass, tourist.

The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend?

You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried.

You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you.

You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want.

Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on.

— Thank…you?

— No problem, kleine.

You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old.

— What the fuck? Who is…

— I’ll explain in the car, alright?

— Did you drop it or something?

— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it?

She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could.

— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it.

He…

You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…

The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention.

— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen.

Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals.

— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though.

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts.

— We’re not some dumb tourists.

— Ach? You aren’t?

Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop.

— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us.

— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja?

— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen?

You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse.

You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form.

— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road.

— You were driving whole day?

— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice.

The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation.

— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you.

The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies.

— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind.

— Are you two alone on the trip?

Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small.

— No, Our male friends are with us.

He humms, almost sounding amused.

— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy.

— Sorry?

— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily.

You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp.

— Thank you for the bottle, sir.

— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja?

You nod.

Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right? (You can’t, but you don’t know that yet)

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #yandere horangi #horangi #kim horangi hong jin #kim hong jin #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #horangi x you #slashers

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