#toxic!konig

[lycheedr3ams]

I would cut my hands off just so you could hold them forever (Taming You Part 2)

Summary: part 2 of my Taming You series (if you don't like this, just scroll past, it's that easy) CW: obsessive!konig x fem!reader, depictions of self-harm, bleeding, konig is kinda crazed and lovesick, mentions of stalking, dark content (konig does NOT cut his hands off don't worry), DDDNE *title from a lyric in my favorite song Night Riders by Ja¥en X District & Sinxi

DO NOT DO THIS IRL EVER. THIS IS ONLY FOR FANTASY!

im really nervous posting this, this is seriously just for fiction. if you don't like it just scroll past. this type of fic is for mature people. also minors fuck off

you had finally had enough of konig's toxicity. you told him plainly: that things were done between you two. he tilted his head in confusion, like a dog that doesn't understand what was said. you never thought konig's confusion could be so unnerving as you felt chills run down your spine.

"nein." he replied.

now it was your turn to tilt your head. "what? what do you mean, no?"

konig's voice became guttural, and his eyes became dark and focused, as he uttered that single word: "nein."

you glanced away for a moment, unsure of how to handle his reaction. you thought he would've screamed at you, or threatened to lock you away somewhere, but he just said "no."

"I can't be with you anymore konig, I'm not happy." you explained to him.

konig's throat rumbled as he processed your words, almost as if he were growling. it wasn't the growl that phased you - that was a normal thing for him - it was instead what he said next.

"I would bleed for you, mädchen. I would do anything for you. I would cut my own hands off so you could always hold them, if you wanted me to."

"don't-" you stammered unsure of what you just heard, "don't cut anyone's hands off, including your own. just give me some space for a while."

"nein."

...

despite konig saying he wouldn't give you space, you saw less and less of him as the days went on. after a week, you thought you had finally gotten rid of him, until someone knocked on your door at near midnight one random weekday.

you peered through the little hole in your door to see konig's hunched form, and you swore you saw something red on his shirt. your eyes widened and you opened the door. "what the hell happened to you?"

konig stared at you with wide eyes, blinking slowly for a moment. he then held out his arms, his long-sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows. your stomach churned when you saw his arms: cuts lined them, dripping with blood, falling onto the floor outside your door.

"I'm bleeding for you, mädchen. please let me in."

you wanted to slam the door right in his face, but with the amount of blood that was falling onto the floor, you couldn't turn him away. you ran to the bathroom to get an old towel and wrapped them around his arms as you ushered him into your apartment. you sat konig down on your couch, and thought in the back of your mind that he had never been so compliant before.

"what is wrong with you?" you asked as you disinfected his wounds with an alcohol wipe. the pile of bloody wipes was building as you cleaned more wounds than you had originally thought.

"needed to see you. show you how much I love you," he stated plainly, not even caring about his blood loss.

you shook your head as you began to bandage his wounds. konig relished the feeling of your soft fingers on his skin, caring for him as he always wanted. "if you wanted to see me that badly, you should've just called."

"nein," he said. "I wanted you to see that I mean it. I will bleed for you. I need you."

you sighed and cleaned up the bloody wipes and bandage wrappers, throwing them away, hoping to forget this ever happened. you sat down next to konig, and he looked at you with wide, soft eyes, and you nearly lost your breath because he had never looked at you like that. you told yourself that your heart would be stone for him, but his eyes melted your heart. and the worst part was, konig was genuine. this was no master-minded manipulative display of vulnerability to get you back.

you sighed again.

"what is it, Süßes Mädchen?" konig asked softly.

your eyes pleaded with him as he called you that. he knew those two words always made you feel weak. "konig, don't do this to me."

"don't do what to you?" he gently lifted your face with his index finger, his thumb gently pressing against your chin.

"this," you muttered.

konig got closer to you, his warm breath gently fanning over your face. "do you want me to stop?"

now it was your turn.

"no."

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[tacticalprincess]

messy blowjobs with mean, older boyfriend könig. because as much as he loves your innocence and lack of experience, he can't help but shame you for it, if only to see the way you pout and feign off tears at his harsh words and patronizing tone. he'll nitpick everything you do; if you're too eager, he'll scold you for being greedy (you might accidentally bite him!) and if you're too hesitant, he'll taunt you for being afraid to handle his size, or guilt trip you for not wanting to pleasure him.

he works you up and teases you with his words and cock for what seems like hours at a time, until you're frustrated and sniffling back your embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to please him correctly. and only then, when you’re nearly choking on your drool and tears, will he loosen the reigns. pity lacing the way he cards through your hair, but his eyes are glazed over with desire as he watches you lick and suck around his girthy, meaty cock, your movements so unpracticed and genuinely curious. sweet little thing, barely concealing a whine when he pulls out to give you a few lovetaps on your cheek and tongue, dirtying your cute face with a mix of your spit and his precum.

"there you go. see? you just need a firm hand, maus. it's the only way you'll learn."

alternatively — ‘throat training’, where he gives you no warning before he’s trying to force himself down your virgin throat, shushing the panicked whimpers that muffle around your sudden mouthful. relishes in the way you gag on his girth, your gummy throat constricting around his dick and creating the perfect suction.

“don’t fight it, little one, you can take it. be good and swallow what i give you, ja?”

apologizes for his brute behavior by kissing your mascara soaked cheeks and holding you close, after you make him cum, of course.

it’s rare nowadays, for a man to be so willing to put up with this degree of naivety and inexperience, the least you can do to show you appreciate his patience by relaxing your throat and warming his cock properly.

[prettybean]

TOXIC BEHAVIOR (COD +18)

* just for fun, don’t take it too seriously 🍌

I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS KIND OF RELATIONSHIP, if you find yourself in these situations, ask for help

If these topics make you uncomfortable, please avoid reading further.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Ghost

He just can't accept the fact that you ended things with him. It's been three months since the breakup, but Simon has completely lost it, especially when he found out that you're engaged again.

He keeps calling you persistently, and out of habit, you always answer. You hear him say the same old phrases: "I'm better than him" or "Come back to me, you know you can't be happy without me."

Despite the breakup, you've agreed to have sex with him several times. The way he pleases you makes your heart race faster and faster. Deep down, you know it's not fair to your new boyfriend, but when Simon touches you, you forget about everything else.

After years of being together, he knows your body inside out. He knows exactly how to make you moan, and he's not afraid to remind you of that. "I bet you don't scream like that with him." And as he says it, he fucks you like only he can.

"Do I have to kill him to win you back? You know I would." And as he says those words, he takes you to new heights of pleasure.

Soap

He has an unhealthy fixation on exerting control over you. John wants to demonstrate to others just how much you are under his command and how obediently you follow his every instruction.

"I've got something special for you," he informed you, as he fasten a collar around your neck, tightening it to the point where it became difficult to breathe. He didn't care about your discomfort; the tighter the collar, the more possession he felt over you.

"Do you like it, sweetie?" he asked, gazing at his name engraved on the collar, emphasizing how much he had invested in you. "If you ever remove it, it would truly break my heart."

You had no choice but to comply; it was the only option available to you. You kept the collar on, and he took advantage of it more and more, forcing you to go out in public with fewer and fewer clothes, showcasing you as his prized possession.

"No panties today, baby," he forcefully rip them off, leaving you to walk around without them. You belonged solely to him, and you had to face the consequences by fulfilling his every desire.

Price

His protectiveness quickly transformed into possessiveness. He never bothers to inquire about your dating life, your activities, or your whereabouts. Your outings are solely determined by his decisions.

If he doesn't suit your preferences, he might even tie you up to acknowledge his authority.

"Darling, it's all about your safety. I don't want anyone to harm you."

He accompanies you everywhere, and you must remain by his side. When you walk, he clings possessively to your arm. "Stay close to me, sweetheart."

If you attempt to engage in conversation with someone else, he tightens his grip on your waist, glaring at you. "What did I tell you?" he growls before promptly escorting you home.

Nevertheless, you adore his way of expressing love. You have always obeyed his commands because, after all, he is your boyfriend.

Gaz

You never truly loved him and he couldn't accept that fact. For months, he persistently tried to flirt with you, but you rejected him in every possible way. However, he refused to give up.

You couldn't help but notice his strange attempts to manipulate you. Strangely enough, you found yourself enjoying the attention and the way he tried to make you fall for him.

Every day, he would tell you, "You're the reason I'm so miserable, don't you see? It's all because of you." With a disappointed expression, he would repeat this over and over, gazing into your eyes.

He started writing you letters, each one becoming more explicit, expressing how he would pleasure you if only you would accept his love. He even went as far as to say he would eliminate any competition just to have you.

Slowly, you found yourself giving in to the temptation and his relentless manipulations. In the end, he succeeded in making you fall in love with him.

Graves

He's consumed by jealousy, and he doesn't even try to hide it. He repeatedly tells you how jealous he is and how wrong you are in your relationship. "If you could just stop thinking about other people, then maybe we wouldn't fight so much."

He wants to have complete control over your every move, to the point where he even took your phone to read all your messages, from the very first to the very last. If he finds anything he doesn't like, he doesn't hesitate to delete the contact of the person involved. "I'm sick of you and your damn friends."

You want to tell him that he's a psychopath and that he needs to respect your privacy, but you simply can't. He keeps blaming you, saying, "It's because of you that I'm like this."

There have been multiple instances where he's punched walls out of anger or broken your phone to cut off your contact with others.

But in the end, he always comes back to you with open arms, apologizing. And every time, you forgive him.

König

He's been tailing you nonstop. It's been ages since you two called it quits, yet every time you step out, you can't shake off the feeling of being watched.

He's always there, meticulously tracking your every move, whether you're alone or with your friends.

König watches you from a distance, careful not to get too close and blow his cover. He even went as far as snapping some pictures of you, which he proudly displayed on his wall, among others.

He used to keep you company during those long nights, lurking in your backyard, peering through your window just to catch you changing or totally naked.

You were well aware of it, and to make things easier for him, you purposely left the curtains open. König was undeniably creepy, but deep down, you still harbored a hint of affection for him.

Keegan

He’s in love with you. Keegan expresses his love through the most unexpected gestures, but only when you're alone together. When there are other people around, he transforms into the perfect gentleman - kind and flawless. Your friends have even praised you for choosing such a great guy.

But when you return home, everything changes. It's happened multiple times that he's embraced you from behind, gently caressing your hips and leaving a trail of wet kisses along your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more space, only to feel something cold against your skin.

"The only way I can make you do what I want is by holding a knife to your throat?" he says, his words making you flinch. Every time he threatens you like this, it feels as if it's the first time.

"I know you enjoy provoking me, otherwise you wouldn't do it so often," he claims. You haven't done anything wrong, he just likes making you believe that. He enjoys seeing the fear in your eyes as he grabs your wrists and forces you to your knees.

You beg him to continue, knowing that he doesn't appreciate it when you oppose him. You have no reason to resist. He controls you, able to do whatever he pleases with you, especially when he lets the knife glide across your body.

"Tell me you'd die for me”.

[d1shy]

Bro yk what I love is when you and your man is arguing and he’s just walking behind you and pulling you near him sayin sorry or when your in a toxic relationship but it’s when you actually love each other but it’s so fucked up and you can’t help but keep going back to each other even though yk it’s bad

LIKE UGHH😫 I love that shit so much like yes pull me to you bae I love that shit.

[eatmyassssssssz]

HM IM BACK!!!

toxic!konig pervy and reader who wears sundresses

@fartybraind

"wear that, whore." he'll say, throwing a sunflower sundress at you. "kön- kön, i need a bra. and panties."

"no, you don't. because I'm not giving you one."

he loves making you dependent on him.

"oh- oh, okay, kön, baby. thank you for my clothes, kön." you smile kissing his cheek. "s fine. get changed and go cook." he demands.

you nod and get over to the kitchen. 10 minutes later, you've began to serve up his breakfast. "kön! your eggs are done!" you shout. he walks out of the bedroom, silently walking out behind you, sticking his hand up the dress. you squeak when his cold hand grabs your ass. "Ah-! Kön- kön, u..uh your..your food."

"then you can fucking cook me another breakfast, can't. you."

"y-yes, sir."

@lillianastuff @lucyisdoingfine @madamemelancholysstuff @hearts-for-mason @kristopher-1105 @handholdinghomie @fartybraind

[uhohdad]

@thesoundofrayne once again leaving us gagged. they’re all so good but the price ones in particular i- ✋🏻😭

ily rayne thank u bb <3 <3 🩷💕💖🩷💕

KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

‼️⚠️🚨MAJOR VICTOR II 🚨MEMES/ SPOILERS BELOW!! ‼️⚠️

more TGWCM memes

[diejager]

I have been thinking about toxic dynamics with yan!König and I think that apathetic or unbothered reader is fun. It's based on the attachment theory and one of the dynamic include the anxious chaser and the apathetic avoidant who's being chased. KorTac operator!darling for the sake of another toxic cat and mouse game!

Hmmm maybe you're the first one to bond with him before Horangi, and you're doing it to satisfy your curiosity. You entertain the colonel, and you guys have a friendly relationship but to you, he's just another normal face in this life of yours. He's nice, but you feel zero spark nor passion in this friendship of yours. To König? You're his everything.

I think the yandere tendencies start to appear when he realizes that he's not a priority to you. Simply another face in the crowd although you never mistreated him. And since the reader is a problem too, reader doesn't see the value of investing time in the colonel, rather uses her time to invest on herself because poor colonel isn't a priority. Besides, he has Horangi and needs to learn the art of socializing.

Basically König overthinking everywhere and anywhere while reader's in her room doing her hobbies/taking care of herself, uncaring about the colonel.

You get bored easily, and need something to keep you grounded, keep you attached less you stumble into something people wouldn’t want you to with carelessly blunt words and an apathetic mind. Some have called you a psychopath, able to live a normal life, actively seeking gratification and fulfilling your ambitions despite the danger it brings; despite the pain it causes others; despite the lies and deception you use to achieve them.

Military was one of them. Some had normal, boring faces, whose minds were built like an intricately designed maze filled with possibilities and interesting things that made it worth pursuing, and others had beautifully scarred faces and unique traits, but were as boring as a wallflower, mundane and unchanging, normal and sane. All too boring for a curious mind like yours.

Then you met König, a giant with his face hidden - unknown - and fleeting moods that went from commandingly dominating and anxiously jumpy. You found him interesting, a nagging curiosity urging you to dig and unravel whatever curiosities he hid in that mind of his. He was an object of fascination to you, something you decided to invest your time into discovering, with lies and truths, promises and deceits, everything was a possibility as long as it served your goal.

The Colonel was a source of entertainment and power, but to him - as apathetic and cold as you were - you were a friend. Your little manipulation and charming words wormed it’s way into his mind the same way they did in your Ops, wielding a serpent’s silver tongue and the devil’s charm, you were something that he both admired and hated. It didn’t help that you acted the same around him, unbothered and unafraid —it made him feel normal.

So it’s not much of a surprised that he became obsessed with you, unwilling to part ways with you if he could, wanting to know you, your likes, your dislikes, your hobbies and your passions; and as long as he kept your interest going, this wouldn’t be the last of you he’d be seeing.

[endless-weightless]

Random König hcs♡

Remember when I said my blog can get dark? This is one of those times... Just remember these are MY headcanons for a toxic version of König.

TAGS/WARNINGS: Afab and fem!reader, fluff, nsfw, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation, toxic, stalking, over protective!König, size kink, switch!reader, switch!König

WC: 833

♡ Call me old-fashioned but I think he'd love giving you flowers. He'd find out somehow which ones are your favourite and then he'd go out and buy a huge bouquet of the prettiest flowers and leave them on your bed with an anonymous note before you two started dating.

♡ Was over the moon when you said yes after he asked you out, though you couldn't see it under his mask. From then on he was always with you, whether you new it or not. He'd silently stalk you to keep you safe and if he couldn't, he'd keep careful track of your social media, hell, maybe he knows how to track your phone.

♡ He was worried when you saw that he slept with a gun on his nightstand, but was so relieved when you weren't. You understood that he had some issues after fighting for so long and in all honesty, it made you sleep better at night knowing there was some kind of protection so close.

♡ König wouldn't let you see his face for the first few months of dating him. In his eyes, you were an innocent thing that needed to be sheltered from anything dangerous or scary, and he thought he was one of them. It took some coaxing and begging from you but eventually he let you take off his mask, though he wouldn't look you in the eyes the whole time. His face had turned bright red and had twisted into a worried frown. König's heart was racing the entire time (poor baby :( ) and raced even faster when you started peppering his whole face in kisses, whispering sweet nothing's to him.

♡ He's always making sure you've eating three big meals a day and will bring you snacks. König absolutely hates it when you don't take care of yourself, he wants to make sure you're always in good health 'cause he wants to fuck a baby into you and you gotta be healthy for that.

♡ Adores manhandling you, he likes feeling like he can physically protect you and being able to just pick you up like you weigh nothing reassures him that he could rescue you from something dangerous. König's strength also comes in handy when you two fucking.

♡ Texts and calls you multiple times a day. He's sort of turned you into his comfort person and now he can't go a day without hearing your sweet voice.

♡ Cries during sex. Could be because he's so sensitive or because he's just so overwhelmed that it's you he's making love to. König sees you as something angelic, like you're a gift from the heavens above and he just can't comprehend how you'd love someone like him.

♡ He also whimpers when he's close. He'll start off with some soft grunts and the ocasional moan (which he desperately tries to hold back but fails miserably).

♡ Goes absolutely feral when he sees how small your hands are compared to his cock. König doesn't realise how big he is sometimes and when you two fucked for the first time and you saw his dick, he was so confused when your jaw practically dropped. He deadass thought he was average and you couldn't convince him he was way bigger than average until he realised he could feel him inside of you when he put his hand on your stomach and he saw the sinful expression on your face.

♡ Needs you to mark him up. He loves it when you cover him in hickeys, scratches and bruises. It's his reminder to himself that you love him and that he's yours, only yours.

♡ Blows up your phone when you don't respond fast enough. König will start to spiral when he's been left on delivered for too long and has even started crying and hyperventilating one time. When you saw he'd been trying to reach you you quickly ran over to his place and comforted him, cradling him while he cried in your arms about worrying that you didn't love him.

♡ He'll try to make you dependant on him. When one of your friends doesn't like him and voices their opinion to you he'll slowly cut them out of your life. He convinced you to quit your job since his job pays so well and "You shouldn't have to work so hard when I can take care of you."

♡ Will kill anyone for you. It doesn't matter who it is, if someone fucks you over he'll have them dead in a ditch before you can even tell him what happened.

♡ Absolutely loves holding you and cradling you. It's like his stress relief, he'll start by just randomly hugging you and then softly asking if you can cuddle with him. He'll gently pull you onto his lap and wrap his bag arms around you, placing a hand in your hair to stroke it. He also can and will fall asleep like this.

----------

These are all of the hcs I can think of right now but please let me know if you want more or a drabble. Toodles!

[adelaidagreenflower]

Nobody else but you 🖤

[tacticalprincess]

toxic loser könig is fueled by the need to feel appreciated for once, especially by a pretty girl like you. and not just from the sweet compliments that bake in the oven of your mouth — he wants everyone to see how much you care about him. he can barely contain the sick urge to prove his claim over you to men in public who eye you up like he’s not there, to respond in appalling ways to older women whose brows crease in concern and bewilderment at how someone like you ended up with him. he pulls you snugly to his beefy side with a firm grip on your waist or middle, and angles your face toward his for a sloppy, lewd kiss in the middle of your sentence for seemingly no reason.

his cock struggles against the confines of his pants when you melt into his bruising hold, kitten nails carving into his bulging bicep in shock. you go along with his perverse actions without a second thought, under the knowledge that you’ll be yelled at to no end when you get home if you push him away for embarrassing him. his mind is constantly riddled with fantasies of fucking you in public, bending you over and stuffing you full until you’re nothing but a cockdrunk mess for all judgmental eyes to see, as the ultimate display of your devotion to him. for now, he settles for pulling you against his weighted boner mid-make out by squeezing the plump fat of your ass under your skirt, trying to fight the smugness dancing around the corners of his mouth at the whispers of disapproval from passerbys. but once his desire gets too strong, he’ll guilt trip you into complying to his fantasies, because if you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be ashamed to let everyone see, would you?

[restlesscrustacean]

toxic yaoi between men that constantly physically fight and whoever wins gets to carve their initial into the loser sigh whatever

[simplysamiblog]

Fanfiction gatekeepers are at it again

I'm so fucking glad I'm old enough to not give a single damn about "comments" like this.

And yet, this still pisses me off for so many reasons.

First of all, if this had been the very first published work of a new writer instead of mine, I can only imagine how disheartening it would have felt. Writing—pulling something out of thin air and putting it out there for the world to see—takes courage. It takes the willingness to be judged. But this? This is NOT criticism. There's nothing constructive about this pathetic excuse of a comment. To be this immature, this full of prejudice, and this fucking BORED—to the point of trying to make someone stop doing what they love? Pathetic. If you EVER come across comments like this—ones that offer nothing but negativity, no actual critique, just destruction—DO NOT let them get to you. They’re literally dust.

Second of all: I thought bookmarks were meant to save fics you liked for later? So you’re telling me… you found my story, read the description, skimmed (if even that) the tags, "read" my story (more like scrolled through it, obviously), only to go "uh, this sucks, let me save it for later so I can keep… reading it?" Make it make sense.

Last thing: These are fanfiction. F.A.N. F.I.C.T.I.O.N. You want something that sticks religiously to canon? You might find something. But buddy—there are TAGS. There are DISCLAIMERS. There are FILTERS. Use your head. Don’t hurt yourself with content your delicate sensibilities can’t handle.

40-year-old soldiers who have seen hell and death every day? Oh no, not in our fics! We’d never dare write something where they experience camaraderie, lighthearted moments, or—heaven forbid—a single fucking joke. (By the way, did you even read my fic? Because there are multiple chapters where they nearly die, and one of their comrades actually does, soooo…????) But no, we’re “too mature” for this “princessy” stuff. Too serious for non-canon stories where two men dare to have a single fun interaction.

Because we, the Responsible Adults™️ reading fanfiction, obviously only want pure, bloodthirsty, 100% accurate, no-nonsense adaptations, right? Right? No? Yeah, me neither.

But you? Oh, not you. You’re built different. You’re so committed to truth and literary integrity that, as a responsible adult, I’m not even censoring your name.

Also, just because of this, I am now writing a fanfiction where all the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters reunite for a pajama party. They will eat cookies, paint each other’s nails, and gossip about their crushes. Enjoy.

And for the context, this is how my story shows on AO3:

AO3

[liamthemailman]

cutie alert

[dickytwister]

and i feel the pain, with so few to trust when they fall away and say i'm not enough when i have nothing, you're always with me when i have nothing, i need you here, next to me || [x]

[uhohdad]

Dad I have read all of your works and I adore you the most, but I have to know, do you have any gentle giant konig recs from other writers? It’s nearly impossible to find any and I don’t have the energy to write it myself but I am in desperate need for that man to be soft for me 😔

ohhh this is an excellent question my dear i’m going to defer to the kiddos on this one. drop ya recs below - c’mon now don’t be shy. we help each other out in this house.

and tell you what drop me another ask so i don’t forget (more than welcome to customize it to your tastes) and i will get to it as soon as time allows ✨💞💖🩷💕💗💞💖

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Men at Work!

Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.

Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior

It’s becoming a problem.

You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.

Which, conveniently, is the problem.

Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.

Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.

Your house is too nice and too new.

You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)

They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.

Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.

Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.

Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…

“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”

You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)

You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…

“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.

Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…

As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.

And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)

“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.

Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.

“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”

An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?

(You could do with a caulking too.)

“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”

You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?

“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”

He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.

“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.

“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”

“Da, the water runs.”

You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?

“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”

And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.

There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.

You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)

Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.

“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”

He blinks at you, then the juice.

“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”

Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.

You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”

As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.

“Hm?”

“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”

You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.

“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”

He nods. “Nearly noon.”

“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”

“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”

“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”

“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”

You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.

“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.

She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.

Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.

Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.

“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”

His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.

“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.

You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.

You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.

“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”

You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.

“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”

“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”

“It was not!”

“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”

“You’re not that much taller!”

“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”

You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)

“If it’s so hot, then here.”

You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.

“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”

“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.

His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.

“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”

He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.

Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.

“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”

“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”

“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.

“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.

You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”

He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt – off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.

You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.

Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.

“Konig!” you call.

“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.

You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”

You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.

“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.

“Yep! Tell me what you think!”

With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.

“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”

You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.

“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”

You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.

That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.

You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.

You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.

As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.

You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.

You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.

You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.

Please, please, please…

You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.

Whoops.

Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.

Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.

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