whore-for-konig

[whore-for-konig]

i absolutely LOVE this so so SO MUCH

pervert!könig × pornstar!reader

warnings: +18, smut, sextape, könig cums in his pants, let's imagine that his mask has a hole in the area of ​​his lips., creampie!

part 1

könig was tempering, he didn't know if it was from nerves or excitement. as his large body approached the door of your hotel room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were as beautiful as in the videos, and more importantly, if you could have feelings for him.

his legs almost gave out as you opened the door and smiled widely at him. surprisingly you approached him to hug him, surrounding his muscular body with your arms. all your delicious aroma invaded him and he could feel every part of your body on his.

könig tried to say something but only moans came out of his mouth that he tried to hide. he felt discomfort in his crotch and it didn't take long for him to notice that he had just cum in his pants. all your fault and your beauty.

when it was time to record, you were already on the bed, wearing a transparent night gown and with your look that almost made könig finish for the second time. he put on his mask and prepared to fulfill his greatest dream: fucking you.

könig pounced on you and began to kiss you roughly while his large hands ran over your skin under the night gown. his fingers dug into your skin, marking it and making you moan against his lips.

"fuck it, I need to fuck you now."

in a quick movement könig put you face down, as if you weighed nothing. out of desperation, he tore your night gown, leaving you exposed. he placed a pillow under your belly, making your back curve as delightfully as he was used to seeing you in the videos.

könig buried his nose into your pussy, sniffing your scent and sucking clumsily in an attempt to make his cock not hurt you so much. from the videos you had seen, könig had a tremendously big cock and the way he fucked his fleshlight had given you the idea that it was going to hurt.

he tried to hold back and slowly enter you but to no avail. his first thrusts were deep and fast, making you moan and forcing you to grab onto the sheets. you could feel every vein and how his cock throbbed inside you, stretching you painfully delicious.

könig grabbed your hips tightly and moved you as if you were his fleshlight, fucking you on his cock. with each thrust the tip of his cock kissed your cervix and your ass hit hard against his muscular legs.

you turned your face to get a good shot for the camera and noticed how könig looked at you with a lost look, almost as if he were in a trance while he automatically fucked you. totally immersed in the pleasure that your pussy gave him.

you moaned his name, getting his attention. könig looked at you for a few moments before grabbing you by the neck and bringing you towards him, crashing your back against his chest. he continued fucking you but now his eyes were locked on yours. in a loving act, he gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

suddenly, he came out inside you to turn you over and place you on your back. you couldn't react when he was now fucking you again with your legs over his shoulders and his cock stretching your sensitive pussy.

könig was out of his mind, totally clouded by pleasure and almost completely forgot that tou were filming. he buried his head in your breasts, licking and biting your nipples while your nails scratched your beefy back.

"im gonna cum, im gonna cum.."

he moaned painfully into your chest, increasing his thrusts and placing all of his weight on top of you. by that time you had completely forgotten that they were recording and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure.

it only took a few pushes for könig to end up inside you, just as he had dreamed of so many nights.

after a few minutes, when you tried to see how the recording turned out, you noticed that your camera was not recording. you didn't give it any importance and you proposed to könig to record again, believing that it had been your forgetfulness.

if only you had realized that könig turned it off so he could fuck you as many times as necessary.

[whore-for-konig]

love these two lol

hellooo! new follower here, and i honestly can’t emphasize enough just how much i luv the way you write!! now for the annoying part… more konig x obsessive reader? + is 🥄 anon available?? tempted to send more asks in the futureee…

Aww thank you! And no ask is annoying, darling. Especially not this one. Feel free to request anything whenever you want! You are now officially 🥄

For this part we have some sort-of fluff but if I get one more request for obsessive reader we will go full nsfw. I have the vision

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior, short nsfw scene

Since Konig had discovered your little obsession, things have been going strangely… well.

Of course, it’s annoying when he can’t find his favorite shirt or conveniently misplaced his toothbrush, but he knows they are in a good place. He can't get mad when it's you. Besides, it'll give him another chance to go to the store to replace the items, and he knew you wouldn't be far behind.

A shopping date. Well, the closest thing to a date the two of you had. He still had no idea how to approach you and officially ask you out. But, if he was being honest, this system worked for him. There was less pressure knowing that you had seen everything, even at his lowest, and still chose to stick around.

Relationships were never his strong suit. And having you follow him, caring for him while expecting nothing in return, it made him feel loved.

So, like any normal relationship, he eventually wanted to take things to the next level.

Taking off his shirt in front of the open window, he made sure to make a show of everything. Putting a blanket down on the couch, stripping off his boxers, making sure to spread his legs just for you. As if you were in the room with him, the air stiffened. Under normal circumstances, he would have been embarrassed of himself. Kept the blinds closed at all times. But this was for you, a sure-fire way to lure you out of your hiding spot.

His mind blanked at the thought of being watched. Trying not to curl in on himself, he spread the pre leaking from his tip down his shaft. Already hissing under his breath, he leaned back against the couch. As terrifying as it was putting on this show, it only made him harder to think of you, tunneling somewhere, your eyes trained on his every movement. He hoped soon you’d be able to take his cock yourself, so he wouldn’t have to bear the moments of humiliation that came with exposure.

Imagining your cunt squeezing his cock, your pretty lips on his between the psychotic version of love you spouted about to him, he easily lost himself. He moved his hand the same pace he assumed you would go. Starting slow to feel him, before aggressively speeding as you gave in to your own mind. Perfect to him, because you knew everything.

It took an embarrassingly short time for Konig to come, the warm spurts waking him from his bliss. But this wasn’t just about the show.

The cum globs stuck to his stomach, coating the soft blanket beneath him. One of his best, a pity.

“Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath, wiping the sticky liquid off his fingers and onto the cloth.

Without a second thought, he pulled up his boxers and vanished into the bathroom. Logically, it made sense he’d have to wash his hands. Clean himself up a little. Anyone watching wouldn't question that's what he went to do.

But it was also a part of his plan. Just because he was a tank on field didn’t mean he was completely brainless.

You were growing more comfortable after the confrontation in the alley. You didn’t cover your tracks as well as you used to. You were allowing yourself to act bolder, sloppier. And you couldn’t resist the soft blanket he had laid out, the cum he had wiped on it so carelessly put there just for you. So, once again, all Konig had to do was wait.

Sit patiently in his bathroom until you slunk out of your hiding spot, which he still could not locate for the life of him, and then—

He burst out just as he heard footsteps. Grabbing you from behind, he easily picked you up off the ground, allowing you to kick out and screech in surprise. He had done this same move with countless enemies, yet this was the first time he wasn’t using it to hurt someone.

“Hush, kleine maus. It is just me.”

You stopped struggling immediately, noticeably relaxing into his grip. It nearly made Konig laugh. He had caught you once again.

“Konig!” You said his name so happily it warmed his soul. “Is something wrong?”

His grip slowly loosened, much to your disappointment.

“Nein, nein. Not at all.” He finally let you go, but not of your wrist. A small assurance you wouldn’t scamper off again. “I wanted to speak with you.”

You tensed at that. In your mind, you were already running scenarios. If he yelled at you, somehow come to his senses and demanded you leave him alone, you didn't know what you'd do. You had already grown attached; you didn't want to leave him. And you weren't about to give back the collection of items you had taken home.

You wouldn't let him leave you.

You couldn't.

Konig took a breath. He didn't want to scare you away or risk you losing interest. Not that you would, considering how you spent every free moment with your eyes on him, but the fear was present.

“You said you love me.”

You nodded. “Yes. More than anything.”

“Then, would you consider," he tilted his head to the side, choosing his words carefully, "moving in with me?”

“So… you want me to move in with you?” You repeated the words as if you could not believe them. This wasn't how people were supposed to react to being stalked, but you supposed Konig was an exception. At least, he hadn't called the police yet.

He nodded. “You are my stalker, ja? Then it would be much easier if you were to live with me. Skip the commute.”

Once again, there he was. Luring a little mouse out of her hiding spot one piece of cheese at a time. Your relationship with him was delicate, but he wanted it to advance. He wanted you to do more than simply watch. He wanted you to know that he was alright with you doing more.

There was a small indent in your cheek where you had been chewing on the inside. “I’m not giving you your stuff back,” you said defensively.

He laughed, uneven teeth on display. “I don't think I have the strength to wrestle it away from you.”

You didn't have to be told twice. You moved in that very night, forever cementing your place in Konig's life. It was just as you told him, you loved him. And now that he confirmed he was comfortable with your strange tendencies, you weren't going to bother holding back any longer.

[whore-for-konig]

love love LOVE this

cw: manipulating, not sure about dubcon but might.

college nerd könig, there's nothing typical nerdy about him, no glasses, his vision is actually pretty good, so he can not hide the bright baby blue of his cornea, it's just a simple choice of his to avoid talking to others and busy himself with some projects and works that need to be done, unlike many others, those who choose to hang out all day long and condemn him.

you're sweet, not some popular girl of the whole college or your class, just a one of many that study here, but in his eyes, you are practically the center of the entire universe, because the mere fact that you pay attention to könig's being and chat with him about anything, even the topics that only he understands, is enough for him to become attached to you, basking in your attention.

you don't know about a twisted, grappling idea which scratches against the framework of his mind, forcing him to try, to take the chance to get close to you, to show others that there can also be such an adorable doll like you next to him, getting shy sweetly when he hooks his fingers against your hand or knee, or purrs a hoarse praise when you remember what he told you last time, calling you a schlaue puppe with a crooked smile.

könig get's too close, enough to be the one to hold your tiny strings, he knows that you began to communicate with him not out of pity, but out of sincere interest, and that you never whispered anything behind his back, so he treats you slowly and carefully for that, gently, whispering slipping pet names right into your ear, inviting you to spend more time together, at the evening in his dorm.

everyone that night heard your whiny, keening moans, recognized your voice when you sobbed his name through your raspy gasps and quiet squeaks, innocent requests to be more slower, leaving crescent, scarlet nails of your nails along the expanse of his rippling back, small, uneven scars and freckles, clinging to könig while he pummels your slick, soppy pussy full.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[whore-for-konig]

Is there anything that'll make könig snap and actually become Violent towards his obsession if only for a moment?

Oh, definitely!

If the darling puts themselves in danger (and that ranges between attacking him with a knife, knowing that his first response is to erase whoever threatens him instinctively, and hurting themselves on purpose) he'll go absolutely ballistic. He will and can strike his darling with the back of his hand, yelling, screaming, scolding them for even trying something so dangerous. They'll collide with a wall or furniture in the way from the force while König goes off. The self-awareness of how destructive he is will eat away at him quickly, reaching it's grabby hand into his brain and giving him a reaction much worse than an anxiety attack.

Poor guy will be so out of control, thrashing the room, barricading it while screaming about the things that could have happened and how he couldn't live if something happened to his darling. How this was so fucking dangerous, how they could have gotten hurt, how HE could have hurt them. It truly puts fear into his darling's body as they have to watch him demolish furniture to try and minimize their risk of getting hurt, punch the walls as he blames himself for not being better, or even hurt himself as he calls himself pathetic and awful.

It takes a while for König to snap out of it on his own. His darling's whimpering or sobbing might help with that, or when they call out to him. But honestly, he's just a mess afterwards. He was so unpredictable but now he's the one crying and sobbing, hugging his darling, pulling them into his lap and embrace, unable to let go while he tells them he'll protect them and do better in the future through tears and sniffles. That he's so, so sorry, the guilt only amplifying when he finally gets a good look at his darling, seeing the bruise of where he hit them and/or where they collided with the wall. For days afterwards he gently applies ointments or caresses them there, saying sorry every night as he hugs his darling tightly, hoping to never repeat his mistakes.

[whore-for-konig]

…Dad!König and his chunky as hell baby… perhaps Dad!König wanting… chunky baby number two? I mean, get a load of this guy (literally)

I think we can all agree that König kinda fuckin’ REEKS of only child. So I think in his mind, it would be best to have more than one. Less likely that they turn out all fucking awkward, like he did.

And of course he gives you huge babies. Look at him. You probably bruised his hand during labor and cursed him to hell and back for doing this to you. Absolute unit of a baby.

And he loves a bit of symmetry. Having a baby in one arm just makes him want to have a baby in the other arm.

He’s worshipping the ground you walk upon during your pregnancy, by the way. But it’s even more extreme right after you give birth. He knows it was extremely difficult, and that you’ve given him something he’d never dreamed he’d have. Something he thought he was past the right age for. And, a bit selfishly, he pampers you so intensely because… he wants you to look back on this time with your fresh new baby as fondly as possible. Because that will increase the chances that you’ll be willing to go through one of those hellish labors for him again so that your baby can have a sibling.

[whore-for-konig]

Idk man imagine König. Your colonel for christs sake. Inviting you to his home after a shitty op. What's that you're injured and you forgot to pay for your apartment in the short time you were unconscious? Well if he doesn't just herd you into his home right damn now.

It doesn't help that you can't run, broke your damn leg in the process. Its hard to resist the man when he's so...desperate persistent.

Its ends up with him letting you sleep on the couch. Homemade dinners by him nearly almost every night as he drinks away at his alcohol horde with you. Tv on with a concerning amount of VPNs and pirating services. Practically doting and flirting with you the entire time.

On the seventh day you find out where he's gone most of the time when he's not with you. A small rabbit in his arms, a bit dirty. Some soil in its hands as it turns around to stand, pressing its paws at König's chest.

"Liebe,

You still don't know why he calls you that,

This is carrot."

Its fucking adorable and taken care of. Thick bouts of fur every direction even on the ears.

A large hand pats down the creature as he brings it closer to you, a tilt of his head asking if you want to see it closer. You nod.

"Flemish Giant,"

He explains when your hand comes in contact with Carrot's back. Soft. Unmatted.

He sets her? Him? Down on your lap. Letting the giant settle on your numb legs when he reaches back to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Sure it was cloth to skin but you felt it. Your fate's sealed.

You were his. And a parent to this bunny thing. There's worse fates honestly no?

[whore-for-konig]

König x Lactating!Wife pt2 (fem)

As requested by @sweetcherryanointing

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

fem/afab, lactation, breastfeeding k!nk, "good boy" talk, breasts fucking

🥛

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.

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König awoke the next day to find you already sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee as your scroll on your phone. The pink tank top you wore to bed showing two small circles of milk that had been leaking all night. This isn’t normal for you, but you assume more let down has happened due to all the attention König gave to them the previous night. He can feel his cock already tingling in his pants as his mind replays the sensation of having his mouth fill with your sweet milk.

“Guten Morgen, Liebling.”

“Good morning.” You look up from your phone to watch him walk to the coffee pot. His shirtless body covered in scars and hardened muscles causing you to feel aroused. “How did you sleep?”

“Amazing.” He looks back at your chest. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

You bashfully roll your eyes and giggle. “I can’t believe you liked it so much.”

“I have to admit, I’ve always wanted to try milk but…” his mind drifts back to the thought of tasting you again, “Did you mind it?”

“No.” You admit. “My nipples are so sensitive, it felt nice for them to get so much attention.”

“Ja?” König sips his black coffee as his loose pajama pants fail to hide his growing erection. “Would you want to start doing this…more?”

“Possibly.” Your tone a teasing one as you look him up and down.

König smirks, always enjoying when you try to act as if you don’t want exactly what he does. He walks to you, placing his cup on the table and pulling his pants down, picking them off. His hands move to the straps of your tank top, pulling them down to expose your breasts. Your nipples hard and glossy from the milk covering them.

“Right here?” You ask with a nervous giggle.

“It’s our home, we can do as we please.”

König lifts you up, sitting on the chair you were in and placing you on his lap. The feeling of his erection presses against you as he pinches your nipples between his fingers, slightly applying pressure until milk begins to drip. He watches as your shirt soaks up the milk, the more pressure the faster the let down begins to flow. One arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him so his lips can wrap around your nipple. He sucks lightly as he grinds up into you, listening to the soft moans that fall from your lips.

You run your fingers through his blond hair as you look down at him latched to you. You can’t understand what it is, but seeing him so desperate for your milk has awakened something in you. A more dominate side of you coming out as you begin to grind against him taking over the rhythm.

“Such a greedy boy.”

Those words from you melt him. His other hand squeezes your other breasts, harshly as he groans against your skin. For such a big man, you make him feel so small, and for some reason that is extremely erotic to him. He opens his eyes and looks up at you. “I want you.” He whimpers as he switches to your other nipple.

“Is your cock desperate to be in my pussy?”

“Mmmm…” He nods as he pushes his hips up into you.

“Well…” You push him away and stand up. “You’re going to have to wait.”

König looks stunned as he watches you stand there. The tip of his cock dripping with precum as he watches you completely undress yourself. You’re never this dominate, but he can’t deny that he is loving this.

You drop to your knees in front of him grabbing your full, swollen breasts and squeezing them. Your milk sprays on his abdomen and stiff cock. He looks down with wide eyes full of excitement as he slouches down in the chair more. White beads of milk drip down his cock as you place his cock between your breasts, moving slowly at first as your move up and down.

“Ah…Liebling…” He groans as he watches your breasts swallow his fat cock between them and white drops of milk leak onto him. His hips move up to match your strokes, trying to stop himself from completely taking over and fucking your breasts like a wild man. “Bitte… more.”

“More?”

“Bitte.”

“Beg for more.”

A small smirk curls at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at you. For you, anything.

[whore-for-konig]

Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!” 

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight. 

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand. 

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine. 

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her. 

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her. 

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease. 

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl. 

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home. 

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there. 

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm. 

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile. 

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it. 

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug. 

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears. 

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed. 

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into. 

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable. 

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?” 

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants. 

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along… 

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth. 

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course. 

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love. 

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping. 

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along. 

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care. 

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to. 

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks. 

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth. 

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm. 

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly. 

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves. 

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

[whore-for-konig]

König wants to lie side by side and stare you in the eyes. He read somewhere that having moments of eye contact strengthens the emotional bond between a couple.

...It's just that he wants to be naked when you do it. He calls this 'You & Me time", doesn't even blink as he cradles you in his arms, somehow snuggles his cock inside of you too.

Full, wrinkled balls press flush against your skin as you swallow uncomfortably, his eyes now boring deeper into yours. His dick gives the occasional throb against your walls, and if you try to wriggle out of his grasp or change position, he grunts, very displeased.

[whore-for-konig]

Here's a silly idea: reader is the more obsessive one instead (any cod character pairing would do with this,but I think the most silly one to use this situation for is with konig)

obsessive reader, my love!! they're so underrated

tw: stalking, nsfw toward the end

-

Colonels were built to be intimidating. A person to follow, a voice to give commands. And Konig was good at his job, that's how he moved up in the ranks in the first place. But for as well as he did on the battlefield, his personal life fell short in comparison.

Most lower operatives avoided him at KorTac. Along with every other person he had met when he wasn't in the facility. He was large and terrifying, and since that had been repeatedly pointed out to him over the course of his sad, pathetic life, he decided to keep to himself and his little apartment whenever he was given time away from KorTac. As much as it hurt, the simple truth was, people just didn't like Konig.

So, when you seemed to pop out of nowhere, of course he took notice. He wasn't blind, and you couldn't outmaneuver a colonel. You were just a curious little mouse; he had seen your type before. You'd try to flirt, but as soon as you saw his face beneath the lower face mask he was wearing and the shit personality to match, you'd run. Height and a big dick didn't make up for the rest of what was wrong with him. Too full of nerves to ever settle, too strange to deserve love. It was a shame, since you were pretty cute. Maybe, in another life, if there were less people in the store and he felt more comfortable, he would have asked you out. Too bad that's not how his mind decided to operate.

He thought you'd leave pretty quick, disappear into the darkness of the streets like a bad hallucination. You really shouldn't be out here with a man like him. You should go back inside, never cross his path again. He let out a breath once he lost you, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. The anxiety of another person watching was never fun. But lucky, that was probably the last time he would ever interact with you.

And then he saw you again.

And again.

And again.

At first, he could brush it off as a coincidence. Tons of people had to go to the same store as him, and you probably lived close by, that's why he saw you on the streets walking home. Besides, against a man like him, you weren't really a threat. It was just his anxiety fixating on you, telling him that he had seen you once too many times, it was nothing.

But he couldn't shake the feeling. Konig knew what it was like to be followed. Many enemy operatives had tried, then met a quick death by his hands. And while you looked every part of a civilian, it was better to be safe than sorry.

So, he formed a half-baked plan. He walked down an alley. Somewhere so dark that no sensible person would have walked down without a reason. There was absolutely no excuse for you to walk behind him, down a place like this. He ventured further, keeping his hands at his sides, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. He took a breath, trying to act natural as he waited.

Ein.

Zwei.

Drei.

And there you were. Following him like a lost puppy.

It was over in a moment. He grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the brick wall.

"Who are you?" he snarled, eyebrows furrowed. If you were an enemy, some sort of spy sent by some terrorist or another, he couldn't afford kindness.

You didn't so much as flinch, staring up at him with a smile and all the confidence of a veteran. "You caught me! I didn't think you noticed. I should have known better than trying to pull one over on you." There was a blush on your face, even as he kept the pressure on your neck. "Oh, anyway, I'm your future girlfriend."

Konig nearly choked on his spit and instantly loosened his grip. You weren't a threat, just a loon. This was just plain strange. A joke, most likely set up by one of the operatives to mess with him. Another practical joke he didn't understand.

"Horangi put you up to this?" he asked, putting on a smile to mask the frustration. "Funny, funny."

He laughed. You did not.

"No, actually, I wasn't."

Welp. Konig wasn't expecting that, either. He did some quick risk assessment, trying to determine what was actually going on. It took a moment for all the pieces to click into place.

"Ah, so you are a..." he trailed off, praying that the English word he was searching for was the same as the German one. "meine... meine Stalker?"

You blushed at the word, leaning back into the loose hand around your neck. "Yeah, I guess that's the word."

"I have a stalker."

You nodded.

"And you are real? Not a joke?"

You shook your head. "No, Konig. I love you."

The admission was so blunt he didn't even notice how you had used his name without asking for it. It sounded like a grade-school confession, filled with foolish words. He had to repeat your words out loud just to process them.

"You love me?"

"Yes. I love you."

"Why?"

You blinked slowly, acting as if he had said the most stupid thing in the world. "Because. You're special."

He pulled back, trying to keep a straight face, despite the mask covering it. Presumably, you had been watching him a while. You had seen every detail of him, even with his mask off. And you had stayed despite it.

Konig knew what he should have done. He should have pushed you off, called the cops, maybe asked KorTac to dispose of you, since you no doubt had accumulated some classified information while following him.

But, on the other hand, your words were so sweet. He had never gotten a love confession before, much less from someone this committed. He had always scared away future prospects, but not you. No, you went as far as to make him a fixture of your life, expecting nothing in return.

Perhaps he was a little flattered. Or perhaps that was the isolation talking.

That night, he didn't bother disposing of you. Instead, he quietly left, neither telling you to stay nor go. He knew you were still following him after the confrontation, though he never could quite tell where you were. So, he started finally putting effort into his life, making sure to pick up his apartment on occasion and washing his face. All the while, his knee would bounce, waiting for your next return like a dog waiting for his master. He once thought you were the puppy, but it was becoming increasingly clear that was him.

In his little mind, it all made sense.

This was fantastic! You loved him! You loved him! And he'd never have to worry about his anxiety trying to convince him that you hated him, because you were far too crazy to ever leave.

He started leaving his curtains wide open, overly conscious of every movement as he made it. He knew you wouldn't care what he looked like, because you had already chosen him, but he made sure to take extra care. For his admirer that was far overdue.

He even started conveniently leaving his underwear about, just to see what would happen. Sure enough, they would disappear without a trace. He couldn't help the happy little giggle that sprung from his chapped lips, knowing the fabric was in your hands. He was luring out his little maus, just waiting until you would show yourself, because he couldn't yet bring himself to do so.

Somehow, it worked, and the two of you started dating. He liked to think he was the one who asked you out. You knew he was wrong, but didn't bother correcting him.

You moved in as soon as he had signaled that he didn't hate your more... strange tendencies.

Konig had wondered if it would be a problem, considering how other guys often complained about their girlfriends ruining their homes, the constant presence growing overwhelming. But there was no such problem with you. You fit right in, like you had always been there. Giving him exactly what he needed without a complaint. He could no longer remember his life without you.

After the long hours of giving orders, there you were, squishing his face and peppering his skin with kisses. You demanded he tell you all about his day, even if you had been there for most of it. The cameras at KorTac were surprisingly easy to hack into. Konig knew you were watching, but he liked the attention. Especially when it came from you. He had always been told he was special for a number of reasons, like his height or skill on the field, but never had he truly believed it, not even when it came from his own mother.

But with you?

He knew he was special. He was special because he was yours. And he could tell every time you looked at him, how your pupils blew wide. just how much you loved him. Sticking by his side, despite his obvious flaws.

Like a flower, Konig wilted. Unwanted attention was a collar around his neck, dragging him down. But yours was like the sun, allowing him to fully bloom.

He didn't mind if your 'love' was simply an obsession. He would take whatever you would give. All his life, he had been the one forced to step up. He was the human giant, he was expected to take care of himself, and whoever he was with. Anything less was nothing but a disgrace.

But while Konig may never admit to it, he's a pillow princess. Sure, he had the muscles to hold himself up on top of you for hours on end, but he'd much rather be looking up at you, letting you ride him at your own pace. Watching your tits bounce as you sheathed yourself on his big cock, regarding you as nothing less than an angel that had blessed his poor soul. You made him feel everything he had been missing, a light in his darkness. When he finally came, you stayed on him the entire time, not asking him to pull out despite the lack of a condom. He had a feeling you went off the pill. He didn't mind. As long as it meant you'd stay, he didn't care what you did. He reveled at your hand on his throat, your lips against his scars, making him feel truly special.

The next day, you accompanied him to KorTac, no matter how he objected. You held his hand the entire time, introducing yourself as Konig's wife (you hadn't yet talked about marriage, but he supposed he'd have to look at rings this weekend) to all the other operatives, not fearing any of the trained killers for a moment, meeting their gaze just as you had with Konig in that alley. He grumbled something in German, to which you responded in the same language. Yeah, he had forgotten you learned that for him. That meant he could no longer mumble his annoyances, specifically how he felt about you talking to other operatives, considering how he hated them. You were scary enough he offered no real objection, though. There was no arguing once you made up your mind, and you wanted to visit his place of work.

How Konig managed to pull you was a topic of conversation in the mess hall for weeks after that day. The other operatives were actually talking to him, and even if they were asking about you, he didn't care. He liked bragging about you, about how much you loved him, about how hot you were. He made sure to tell everyone that you were his, but he knew the truth. You had murmured the words into his ear practically every night, just to make sure he would never forget.

He was yours. He always had been. In mind, body, and soul, he belonged to you.

[whore-for-konig]

cw: somnophilia, noncon, blowjob, masturbation, reader has oral fixation. MDNI.

Coomer!König is such a disgusting menace :((

He uses you when you're most vulnerable, looking all pretty when you're fast asleep. His soft cock rests in your mouth for what seems like forever, slowly hardening when you subconsciously start sucking on it like it's your thumb, your wet tongue applying pressure on his meaty shaft, almost making him cum.

He's forced to pull out once he starts getting harder, not wanting you to wake up just yet. With the same stealth he uses in the battlefield, his massive body mounts you carefully, heavy balls resting on your parted lips while his hand ran up and down his needy cock, muffled whimpers leaving his lips.

König is cocky and confident— that much is obvious by the way he starts to thrust his hips, smearing precum all over your pretty, sleeping face.

His rough, calloused hand rubs every single inch of his long, thick cock, squeezing it to the point it almost hurts while he imagines he's fucking your tight, wet throat. His free hand holds open your lips, blown eyes staring at your welcoming mouth and hoping one day you'll let him fuck it.

“Fuck, fuck—” König is quick to bite his lip, trying to stay quiet and not let all the filth he wants to tell you from escaping his mouth. Rope after rope of thick, hot cum is shot on your waiting tongue, the corners of his lips tilting up when he sees you scrunch up your face and swallow it all.

[whore-for-konig]

[TW: rape, non-con, dark]

There's something about stray dog's behavior that speaks König to me.

He'd been kicked around, ridiculed, and left on the cold pavement alone. He had no real house, and had to beg even for a scrap of food. Those were the factors that forced him to grow teeth way earlier—and sharper—than he's supposed to.

He'd held the bitterness in his heart, causing him to despise the weak, the poor who couldn't stand up for themselves. The perfect replica of his past self.

He hated seeing them, he'd even go as far as 'taking care' of them. Letting them know that no one would help them, no one would come to the rescue. Just like what people did to him back then.

He recognizes his contribution to the vicious circle, yet he finds himself helpless as he's unable to break free from it.

Perhaps that's when God decided to punish him for it.

There's a mission that required him to work together with the other team, and met with the reprisal for his bad deed, in the form of a medic.

He didn't spare a glance at her, didn't acknowledge her existence, until she defended her patients in front of him.

One of the missions went wrong, causing the soldiers to be injured by gunshots and a grenade. It was theirs to blame, because they didn't pay attention enough, but she shouted at him, telling him if he'd given them a deserved break, it would've been avoided.

He, of course, was angry at her.

He told her she didn't know anything, that she's hindering the mission. But she didn't flinch, even when he growled at her.

It frustrated him, because even his glare would send his soldiers running. Yet it didn't work on her. The people who's not afraid of him are usually those in power, but she isn't one of them. She's just a mere medic.

He tried to kick her out of the team, but the higher ups told him that there's no one available for her replacement. He also tried to make her quit, but what he did came back around to him, as he received a penalty.

It stresses him out, to the point that he'd overwork himself to distract him from his thoughts.

One day, a bullet passes through his heart and lungs, causing him to collapse on the spot.

In daze, when his consciousness slips in and out, he thinks how he could've easily avoided it. But his body wasn't listening to him, delaying his feet to move back.

In what feels like months, he opens his eyes for the first time after the incident.

What he sees, is a pale light on the ceiling, and a blurry figure by the bed.

And there she stands, just like the angel of mercy.

She doesn't say much, except for telling him to rest, and that he's lucky he survived.

She tells him the same thing for days, before he can muster two words out of his mouth.

Shut up.

And strangely, she smiles.

"Seems like you've recovered well." She responded, "Welcome back."

She continues to nurse him, despite his snarky remarks that she easily deflects. She takes care of him with patience that should've withered away from the moment she joined the army.

It shouldn't have bloomed in front of him.

For the first time in his life, he feels the weight of his guilt on his chest. He could've been kinder, could've been softer, and he would've broken the cycle just like she did. But he chose to nurture his anger—just like his father, and his father's father.

Then again, she could've gotten it easy from the start. Though in his heart, he knew it's just an excuse for his behavior.

The day he's permitted to work again, he left without saying thank you.

At night, he wonders if she'd come to hate him as well. No one would blame her if she does, but deep in his heart, he hopes she doesn't.

Since that day, he has followed her like a lost dog. But he would turn his head away whenever she looked at him.

Sometimes he scoffs at himself for thinking about injuring himself, just so he could receive her care. Yet he couldn't help but panting at her feet, lapping up every little conversation they made. He wants to surrender himself to her, letting her put a collar around him and call him hers.

And it's all because she showed just a little kindness to him.

On lonely missions, or lonely nights, he often imagines what they could be. Living in the suburbs, white fences, and kids. The picture perfect of the marriage.

Until it all shatters on the ground.

It's not his intention to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help but lean in when he hears her voice. She sounds happier, as she shows her friend the ring on her finger.

So he bares his teeth,

And bites.

(One time, his uncle had to put down their dog

Because he bit his children for no reason—

Other than jealousy

He heard the dog whined

on the cold table,

alone, and scared

As the vet slowly pushed the poison

Into his bloodstream

And God, how cruel is it

To put a heart inside of a beast

When all his life

He only knew

How to bite?)

He pants as he presses himself into her, causing her to whimper, as her voice is long gone from screaming and crying.

She must've had no idea of what's coming to her when he called her to his office. The scratches and bruises on his body were enough proof of her gullibility, that she came to him, unassumingly, and trusting.

He had her bent over his desk, smothering her easily with his body as he forced himself into her. She was a fighter, but not strong enough to defeat him.

He had lost his inhibitions, as his back arched for the eighth time, spilling his seeds into her.

And she's lost as well, as her eyes were unfocused, and all her energy had been zapped from her body.

"Leave him." He said, as he drove himself into her once again.

She lets out a high-pitched moan when his cock stretches her open again, filling the room with sticky sounds.

"Leave him and love me instead." He said for the second time, and she cried in pain when he buried himself too deep.

"Love me," He sobbed as he pulled the ring out of her finger, knowing fully well he couldn't replace it without twisting her arm. "Please love me."

Her tears flood her cheeks as she watches him discard the ring from her, before latching his mouth onto her shoulder. Marking her with another bite, drawing yet another blood with his teeth.

He knew she had closed her heart the moment he slammed her on the table. He knew she wouldn't come to love him. But if he's not loved by her, then no one should.

[whore-for-konig]

I'm Only Flesh and Blood

(König × Reader)

[Dead dove: do not eat | MDNI]

TW: rape, non-con, imprisonment, death, violence, overall dark theme

(I don't know why, but this song just resonates with the story, not because of the lyrics, but the way he sings it.)

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You didn't realize there was a war on the horizon, before it all fell down upon the city.

Between the rumbles and the upstanding pillar, you coughed as the dust surrounded you.

You screamed for help, as the shattered walls trapped you in, leaving no space for you to move. You did it over and over again, until your throat scratched. Yet no one came to rescue, no one heard you scream.

When the night fell, you curled up your body, trying to find warmth in the harsh structures. There's no light that could reach your place, you only knew if it's daylight when the temperature rose up slightly, although it soon blurred as you lost track of time.

You were starving, your lips were cracked and split open. You thought you'd die like this, until you heard a heavy stomp of a boot.

There was a sound of a man shouting above you, and a heavy thud soon followed. You didn't have the energy to speak, as you watched a little light come through the rubbles. One by one, the wreckages were lifted, and you winced at the glaring light upon you.

There's a shout, and more shouts followed after in a language you didn't understand. You covered your eyes to see a soldier stretched his hand to you. Just like a fool, you reached up to him.

The event that unfolded between the rescue and the medical help was fuzzy in your memory. What you knew was, you woke up in a cold room, with men in uniform by your bed.

They asked you your name, and basic questions that you weakly answered. After they wrote it all down, you heard them mumble the word 'foreigner'.

"Where am I?" You asked them with a hoarse voice.

"Hospital." One of them said, before they both left the room.

Your brows furrowed, as you sensed something's off, but can't pinpoint what it was.

When the doctor declared you've made a full recovery, you were immediately brought to a different building. The man took you to an office, where a hunched figure in a mask sat at the desk.

He shooed your escort with a wave, and he left the room without a sound. Leaving you with the big man.

"What's your name?" He asked with a strange accent.

"(Name)." You responded.

"They said you're not from here." He stood up, and you witnessed the full glory of his height, "Visiting?"

You slowly nodded, nothing to add.

He shot you a sneer, as he walked closer to you, "You didn't know there was a conflict?"

"No," You lowered your head, "I thought it was safe."

You saw his polished boots as he stood in front of you, before he lifted up your chin so you'd face him.

"You're lucky you're inside the ruin, you know." He began to speak with malice slowly dripped out of his mouth, "Your kin were mostly dead or imprisoned. The women were raped, and the men were skinned alive. But you're still alive. You must be lucky."

The grip on your jaw became harder, and you whimpered, both from fear and the pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He let go of your face, and you immediately took a step back with your legs trembling. Your gaze was down, and you couldn't see the smile on his face. He walked past you, and you heard the door open, before a soldier took your hand and led you through the hallway.

In the other room, you met several girls with the same expression as yours—scared, confused, unsettled. You stood beside one of them, and watched as the soldier left.

The girl turned to you, asking your name.

"It's (Name)."

"Oh." She responded, "Where were you from?"

You told her the name of your hometown. "You?"

"I lived in the neighboring country." She smiled, "I'm Nina by the way, nice to meet you."

You returned the gesture.

"Do you know why we're here?" You asked.

"I'm not sure." She said as she rubbed her neck, "But I overheard the soldiers referring to us as flowers, I'm not sure what that means."

"Flowers?"

"Pretty flowers, in fact." She clarified, "One of them even said exotic ones. I just hoped it's not what I think it is."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening door.

There's a man striding from the door, and stopping on his track to see the people in the room. He scanned them one by one, before he turned to the soldier on his side.

"Which one is the Colonel's girl?"

The soldier looked at you, before leaning in to whisper.

"Hmm," He let out a displeased grunt, "Well, take her away then. There's no point in choosing her when she's off the list."

The soldier said something to him, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care, take her away."

He pressed his lips together before he nodded.

"Come." He said to you, and Nina immediately grabbed your hand.

"Don't go." Her eyes were wide as she told you, and you were alerted by the fear in her face. But you didn't have the time to process it, as the man ripped you away from her, dragging you out of the room.

"No—" You tried to protest, "Let me go."

He stayed silent, while his hand was planted on your arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business to know."

"Shut up."

The two of you arrived outside, where he quickly called a car to the lobby. As the car parked, he opened the rear door and shoved you inside.

The door was already closed by the time you shouted at him.

The whole ride was silent, as you bit your nail, trying to make sense of the situation. You tried to look out the window, figuring out where the driver's taking you. Though you found nothing, not a single clue.

It took perhaps 15 minutes before the car parked in front of a house—a big house, in fact. At the front door, you met another man in military uniform. He didn't say much as he let you in, before locking the door behind.

It took a minute for you to process what happened, before you knocked on the door, asking why you're here. Again, you received no answer.

Deciding it's not worth the time, you began to roam around to find a way out.

It's a two-story house, with a big dining hall and equally big kitchen. It has a study room, and a meeting room right beside it, the two rooms were connected by a door. They looked like they've been used recently.

Upstairs, you found the bedrooms, as well as the bathrooms. There's a door leading to a balcony, but it was locked.

When you came back to the first floor, you tried your luck in the study room. It was full of papers, and you skimmed over it. But it's all written in a language you didn't understand, so you decided to move to the drawers. But as you bent down to reach the handle, you heard an unmistakable voice coming from the door.

"Don't touch that."

You lifted your head to see the same man you met in the office. He was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, watching you intently behind the mask.

"Curious, aren't you?"

You looked down to avoid his stare, "I'm sorry."

He took the time to examine your face, before he spoke, "I was planning to take you home with me, but it seems like my lieutenant sent you away without my permission."

"What do you want?" You asked him through gritted teeth, "You're not planning to send me back home, aren't you?"

He smirked, "Clever thing." He said, "Do you really wish to know that?"

You kept your glare at him as he explained.

"You see, you're still officially missing, and it's not our job to report every single person we found." He walked toward the bookshelves with his hands on his back and his chin up, "So if we found someone, it's our right to keep them."

He pulled a file from the shelves, and threw it onto the table.

"It's yours." He told you, "Go on and read it."

You looked at him with disdain, before you flipped the file open. There, you found all of your private information—the copy of your and your parents' IDs, your bank accounts, and detailed information about your background. Although it's written in German, you knew it from the written dates and a few familiar names.

"Do you understand now?" He spoke in a low tone, "You have no choice."

He left the room as you froze on the spot, unable to bring yourself together. The soldier by the front door took you to a bedroom and locked the door behind as ordered. Leaving you alone, at a loss.

You stared blankly at the window, and took notice how it's screwed shut. Even if you were to break the glass, it's already lined with railing. The same applied to the small window above the toilet, and you saw no possible way out in the bathroom too.

Maybe you could open it with something, something that resembles a screwdriver.

When the sun had set, you heard the lock turned, before the soldier entered with a tray and a jug of water. He set them down on the nightstand, before leaving without a word once again.

You looked at the food, and you had no appetite despite your stomach growl. You didn't touch the plate, but filled up the glass with water. That was it, that's your dinner for that day

At night, you couldn't sleep. You could hear the clock ticking, reminding you that you're still here. Pretty much alive.

20 minutes past midnight—you knew it from the toll of the grandfather clock outside—you caught the sound of the door opening, then closing. It came from the room beside you, the master bedroom.

That night, he spared you from the dreadful ordeal of sleeping together. But your luck was running thin after the third day of your stay.

You were laying on your bed with your thoughts, before the door of your bedroom opened. Your blood ran cold, as you heard a heavy step entering the room, and went towards your place.

The blanket rustled, as the man slipped inside. He settled into the bed, before pulling you into his chest.

Your heart beat hard against your chest, and you began to feel yourself sweating. You knew Fortuna frowned at you when he slid his hand under your neck, pressing his fingers on your pulse.

"You're still awake, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip, and slowed down your breathing. All was an useless attempt to calm you down.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight."

You took a sharp breath as you caught the meaning of it. It made him chuckle, as he buried his face into your nape.

"But if you try something funny, I can't guarantee that to you."

Your body turned cold when the words left his mouth, to the point that you stayed still, petrified by the threat.

He did keep his promise, as he fell asleep right by your side. Perhaps if you're a bit braver, you could lift his hand and escape that night, but his words hung on your head, as if it's a guillotine that'd fall on you if you moved an inch.

You didn't sleep that night. Drowsiness only came to you after hearing the birds singing, signaling the first arrival of the sunray. And you were too tired to notice the way he stirred, as it went closer to his waking hour.

In the afternoon, you found yourself alone in bed, with the door locked, and the breakfast on the table.

You survived that night, but it didn't mean you'd make it on the other days.

Unfortunately, it came sooner than you prayed.

It was your fault, you were careless. You thought he wouldn't pay any mind to a missing cutlery, but he did.

At the dinner, he asked you to accompany him at the dining table, and you sat there, blissfully unaware of the impending torture.

As you chewed the tender steak, he announced his concern about the lack of butter knife in the dishwasher.

You stopped at your track, as your body tensed up. The meat stayed in your mouth, as your throat tightened up, closing your chance to swallow.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He asked with a cold glare, "Did you think I'm stupid?"

You kept your gaze to the plate, as the alarm blared in your head.

"Answer me!" He slammed his fist on the table, and you flinched away in fear. The reaction caused you to choke, forcing you to cough out the meat into the napkin.

"I'm sorry." You whimpered, while gripping your hand so it would stop shaking. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought the time had stopped for you. Until you heard the chair moved, and he stood by the table.

"Hands on the table." He retorted, and your body obeyed him without delay.

You jumped when he threw away your plate, sending it and the cutleries to the floor as it shattered upon the contact. You began to feel unsteady, as the panic was rising from your chest.

He stood behind you, and you trembled as you heard the sound of a zipper.

That was the day you found that he'd use sex as a punishment.

He made sure that it hurts, and left you bleeding, he'd render your legs useless by bruising your hip and insides, as he rammed his cock against your core. You screamed at him, begging him to stop, but he kept going until he ripped the orgasm out of you. By the time he finished, you're entirely spent, as you curled up on the floor.

In daze, you felt yourself being picked up, before laid down on the mattress. Leaving you wondering about it in the morning.

He was cruel, but he took you to the bedroom instead of leaving you. He was merciless, but he bothered to put a few medicines on your tray.

You didn't understand him, and you didn't like it one bit. You had a hunch that it couldn't be that simple—that he felt guilty, or he felt the need to take care of you.

To your disdain, he continued to do it for weeks. He helped you up, and gave you the medicines every morning. He kept it as a routine, until you could stand on your feet again.

While your body's recovered, the phantom pain still throbbed between your legs. Reminding you of the consequences for your misbehavior.

The memory of it kept you in line, as you unconsciously complied with his demands.

That was, until his demand became more outrageous.

It seemed that he was testing you—putting you through unnecessary trials of whether you would obey him or not. He'd put a choker on you. He'd ask you to get on your knees, and put your head on his lap. He'd tell you to sing, while his finger slipped inside your panties. He'd place you on his desk, and told you to spread your legs while he watched you pleasure yourself. He'd force you to watch an erotica without your pants on, so you'd leave a stain on your chair. He didn't ask for sex, but what he requested was way more improper, to the point that you felt dirtier after doing it.

And he seemed to be pleased by it, he delighted in your humiliation.

He also got off on your fear.

He'd play a cat and mouse game with you, and he'd scream threats that'd set you running. He knew you're scared of him, and he used it to his advantage. And when he caught you, you'd be forced on your knees as he shoved his cock into your mouth.

You're aware that there'd be an escalation from the moment he declared he'd take care of you, but you weren't prepared for the level of depravity he possessed.

The way he'd threaten you with sex, and soothe you with aftercare, it was too much.

One day, you sobbed as you begged him to end it all, with your tears running down your face. But he just sneered as he rubbed his member against your clit, forcing you to watch as your body trembled when you came for the fifth time.

There were times when it's all quiet, when he was wrapped up in his work. Those were the times where you could gather your thoughts, and planned for a possible escape.

You knew about his gun collections in the study room, you just needed the bullet. You couldn't really escape through the front door, except when it's night. So you began to devise a plan.

In the back of your mind, your rationality told you it's impossible; that even if you killed him, his affiliates would catch you so easily. You have nowhere to go. But you shoved it back into the water, as your feeling thrashed inside your chest. You need to go. You need to get away from him.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you found out the answer to your plan.

He hosted a house party with all of the soldiers. Some of them were recruits, and some of them looked like they're on the same level as him, judging by the presence of a pretty partner on their side.

You were given the role of a quiet escort, and you were allowed to leave his side only when he told you so. You wrapped your hand around his arm, as he greeted his guests.

The last friend of his came a little later, and your eyes were widened as you saw a familiar face. It was Nina.

She looked thinner compared to the last time you saw her. Her eyes were hollow, and her face was pale, with the exclusion of the red mark on her cheek.

You had the chance to talk to her when they all sat at the dining table. While the men were talking over brunch, you made your way to her and stood beside her.

She was quiet, and you doubted that she heard you, but it only lasted for a moment before she muttered out I'm fine.

"He slapped me this morning because I forgot to brew his coffee." Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But he told me to prepare everything for the party last night, of course I'd forget it."

Your brows furrowed with sympathy, as she continued her snivel, "I should've felt grateful that he only slapped me. The other girls—the other girls got it worse. But I—everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I don't—I'm so sick of it."

She quietly sobbed, and you took the initiative to pull her aside, guiding her to the restroom.

In there, you got the full length of her story.

The man who took him treated her as a housemaid, but never addressed her as such. He'd shout at her constantly, and he'd shove her face against the counter, forcing her to look at the little dust spot she missed. At night, he'd force himself upon her, with little to no preparation. And when she tried to escape one time, he brought home the head of her mother. The only family she had left.

You didn't know what to feel, but you could see that she got it worse than anyone.

You tried to soothe her, but you knew the wound was larger than you could stitch. It could never be healed.

As you both returned to the dining room, you found the table empty, as the men had already moved to his study room.

And your heart triumphed when you saw the key in his hand, as he opened the locked drawer to fetch something vital for your escape.

The bullets.

You watched him as he slipped them one by one into the old revolver. You burned the image of it in your head—the silver, big barreled revolver.

He then invited everyone in the room to walk with him, with the intent of showing a demonstration.

"This thing is a beauty, a wild horse," He remarked as he exhibited the firearm, "You need to learn to tame it before you ride it, or she'll kick you off the mount."

The men laughed, as some of them added an equally filthy joke. He chuckled before turning his body and stretching his arm to aim at the target.

There was an apple on the fence, on the far side of the garden. And the red fruit stood still, before it exploded as his gun went off with a bang.

The men cheered, applauding the magnificent show that you couldn't understand. Why did they praise it? Wasn't a gun supposed to do that?

You didn't have the time to ruminate, as you heard your friend whisper under her breath.

"He loves you."

The chatter from the men almost drowned her voice entirely, that you had to double-check your hearing.

"What?" You asked her.

She turned her face towards you, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. The sight of her stunned you, as she reached to touch your cheek.

"He never took his eyes off you." She muttered as she leaned closer to you. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought you felt her lips brush against yours, as she pulled you into a kiss. And you almost taste the wine in her tongue, until a sharp shrill flew past you with an incredible speed. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, with her body slumped against you.

You sat there, watching the open side of her head as it dripped dark fluid into your dress. It was warm, and slowly seeped through the fabric, spilling over your thighs.

You didn't know who was screaming.

You couldn't remember how long exactly before they removed her body from you. The party must be over since the men took you to your room, leaving you alone as you sank into your chair. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, as you saw them stained with red.

What happened to your dress? It was supposed to be white, wasn't it?

You stared at your knees, as the image of her head was still fresh in your mind. You felt your vision narrowed, as if you watched yourself through the third eye. You weren't there, you were still on the ground, with your friend's head on your lap.

The door was opened, but you didn't notice it. You didn't notice any presence, before a hand softly landed on your shoulder.

You jumped out from your chair, almost shouted for the second time, if not for his embrace.

It caught you off guard, and you began to sob against his chest. You couldn't help it, it was the only comfort you had, even though you knew that he had removed every other hand just so you'd choose him.

"Don't be sorry." He gently lulled you, "She brought it upon herself."

He removed the bloodied dress from you, before turning away to fetch a wet towel. You didn't have the energy to fight him, moreover to lift your finger. So you let him clean the blood off your face, and off your body.

You didn't resist when he put the fresh clothes on you, and he guided you to the bed, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He didn't do much and left the room without a word.

On the bed, you let your mind wander to your friend—her hollow stare, the gaping wound in her heart, you should've known it. There's a quiet anger in you, as well as a deep sense of loss. She used you as a means to end her pain, but she had no other choice. She had nothing left.

For days, you asked yourself if it's the only way for her, or if you could help her, reach out to her just a little further. But what came back was an echo, since she was already an empty shell long before you could help her.

You were angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the man who took her. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you were powerless.

He was smart enough not to bother you, since you'd erupt at any given moment. But he'd snap at you if you crossed the line, and you'd end up with tears, as you bit your lips shut.

You don't know what to do with this anger, you still don't know the answer to this day.

While you have the plan ready, you haven't chosen the execution date. You need to be close enough to him to take the key, but you're still repulsed by him.

A week has passed by, and you find the courage to close the distance between you and him. You begin to join him for dinner, and keep him company in his study room.

That's when you start to see the crack.

There's a time gap where you can carry out the plan, at least the first plan. When he comes home, he usually leaves his things unattended at dinner time. You would have the freedom to roam, and you could sneak into his room for a short time. You once made sure which pocket that had the key in, and did a double-take a few days later. When you're certain of it, you move to the gun collections. You had memorized the revolver, so it didn't take long before you found it.

With that in mind, you're ready at any time.

You maintain a good facade in front of him, as you wait for the moment to strike.

The chance comes to you one night, when he decides to postpone the dinner. He has to talk with someone outside, and leaves his things on the dining table.

The window of time will be short, since the time it takes for him to finish will be uncertain. But you take it nevertheless.

You don't waste any time as you pull the key from his vest's pocket, and march toward the study room.

Adrenaline rushes through your body, and you're shaking as you take the revolver off the padded wall. You then turn your heel as you approach the desk, sliding the key with difficulties, before unlocking the drawer.

Alas, you run out of time.

You hear the front door close, and a heavy step echoes through the house. You hold your breath as you slide the cylinder release, and take a few bullets in your hand.

"Mäuse?" Your panic rises as you hear his call, with trembling hands, you try to push the bullets into the cylinder. Alas, one of them falls to the floor.

The noise must've alerted him, as the sound of his step turns into a heavy bolt.

You only manage to put two bullets in, before slapping the cylinder shut and aim at the door, right at the same time as his arrival.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you inside, with the gun in your hands.

"Don't come any closer!" You shouted a warning at him, though you couldn't hide the quiver in your voice.

He stands by the door, with his face unreadable, as it hides behind the mask. You pull the hammer, while your finger rests on the trigger. You're ready to shoot, he knows it from your stance.

He sighs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I gave you time, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't—don't move." You tried to warn him once again, "I'll shoot if you move."

"Can you even shoot me with those hands?" He leered at you, taunting you with his words, "You won't hit any target if you keep shaking."

He catches you off guard as he storms the room, forcing you to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit his shoulder, and he shouts in pain. The shot you released enrages him, as he pulls a sledgehammer from his side.

You don't have the time to aim as you shoot the second bullet, and it flies past him, leaving him unharmed.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as the hammer slams onto the desk, causing the wood to crack upon impact.

The revolver quickly dropped as you fled to the connecting door, escaping the place through the next room.

You run towards the front door, trying to push the handle, but it won't budge. You hear him coming, and jump to the side, narrowly escaping his hammer of rage as it punches through the door, sending the broken pieces everywhere.

"YOU COME BACK HERE!" His voice boomed through the house, and you could almost feel the floor shaking.

You dash to upstairs, and push your bedroom door open, before locking it just in time.

Still, it can't protect you from him.

You watch in horror as the door shakes and fills the room with the cracking sounds, before it flies open by force.

And there he is, standing at your door like a nightmare.

You can't do anything except running away from him, running to the corner where you'll certainly meet your demise.

And you lift your arms and brace for the impact. You can see the hammer coming to you from the corner of your eye, and you cry out when it strikes.

It's all silence, before a quiet sob falls from your mouth.

His hammer crashed on the wall, just an inch away from your head, showering you with dust and smashed fragments.

Your body slides down to the floor, as your legs give up. You continue to weep, while he lifts up the hammer, and tosses it to the ground.

"Are you done?" He retorted harshly, and you shrunk away from him.

He yanks your hand away, and throws you to the floor. You yelp when he sits on top of you, pushing your face down to the ground.

"Should I treat you badly so you'd learn to appreciate what I did for you?"

"You took my freedom away." You hissed through your tears, "You kept me in here so you could play me like a toy."

"But I took care of you, didn't I?" He growled, "I never asked you to clean the house, you didn't even have to cook for yourself. What more could you ask for?"

You flinch at his tone. You've seen him angry a few times, but never this angry.

"Do you want a toy of your own?" He asked, voice dripping with bitterness. Your eyes snap open, as the phantom pain throbs in your hip. "I can certainly give you one."

"No…" Your lips quivered as he slipped his fingers under your clothes, "No, no! Stop!"

You tried to kick him away, do anything to get away from this monstrous man.

"Get away from me!" You screamed at him, but he ignored you as he ripped your clothes off. "Please! I'm sorry—"

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He laughed when you tried to crawl away, while he undid his belt.

You cry out when you feel the head of his cock poking against your core, before he slowly pushes it inside.

It was excruciating, as he stretched you open with a force. He groans as your walls clamp around his member, as if repelling him from entering.

He snakes his arm around your shoulders, as he pulls you close until his chest is flush against your back. A bitter tang of iron hits your nose, reminding you of your own mistake. He hisses when you grab him on the place near the wound.

"Don't think you can escape me, (Name)." He snaps his hip against you, and you throw your head back, eyes tightly shut. "Not even in your death."

You scream when he buries himself completely, stuffing himself to the hilt, until you feel yourself full.

The pain comes back to you, as you feel your core burning. He makes it worse by feeding it frictions, as he begins to pump himself in and out. He tosses his mask aside, before he marks you with his bites. He sinks his teeth onto your neck and shoulder, before he lifts you by your chin, and crashes his lips against yours.

It was bitter, full of teeth. His kiss tasted like rage, and the jealousy he held since your friend stole it from him.

You cough from the lack of air, and fall down on the floor. The mixed saliva in your mouth drips down to your chin, and he runs his thumb to wipe it off.

He bends down to kiss you once again, and you whimper when you find yourself growing wetter against your will. The resistance from your walls becomes lesser, and he can easily slide his member in.

"You know, Mäuse," He mused as his hips moved like a piston, "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be a good father."

He keeps his arm around your body, as you struggle against him.

"I can buy you a big house, taking care of our little ones." He covers your mouth when you begin to voice your protests, "As long as you're with me."

Your hand starts to flail around, trying to hit his wound, but it's out of your reach.

"I'll make you my wife, and we'll live together as a couple." He said with a smile, but through your eyes, it was a madman's grin. "You just have to be good, and I'll treat you as such."

His cock brushes against the spot that made your moan, and he keeps hitting it until your back arches, as you turn limp in his arms.

He soon follows after you, as his cum spills into your womb, filling you up to the brim. You gasp when his arms tighten around you, as his cock twitches inside your core. A sense of dread hits you as you feel his cock doesn't get any softer.

"I think you'll make a great mother." You heard him murmur, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

[whore-for-konig]

Homebody!König x Fem!Reader mdni! (18+)

A/N: I feel like I owe you guys something after being gone for well, over half a year. And I missed you guys so so much, so please take this König drabble as an apology ♡

tw/cw for noncon, masturbation, intoxication, somno, impregnation if you squint

You have always known your neighbor, König, to keep to himself in his apartment due to his social anxiety. His blinds were often shut, and door was locked and bolted. You never really thought too deeply about his condition, and you’d even say you had a nice connection, but to him, something about your soft curves and the sweet tone of your voice made his cock stir in his pants.

What? Come on now, maus, did you really think you could get away from König when you keep wearing those tight, skimpy outfits, the ones that cling to your hips perfectly out everywhere you go? Of course as your neighbor, its only his job to keep a copy of your key and a large album of pictures of you saved to his phone, some on days when you’re in his apartment, others when you aren’t paying attention and minding your own business, and a select few of you that are made his eyes only. The ones he took of you while you were sleeping sound in your bed, of course, that gave König the perfect view of your plush breasts, your squishy thighs, your plump ass, and let’s not forget your drooling pussy.. he can’t think about it for too long before he feels his meaty dick starting to leak with precum, leaving a wet stain in his boxers.. if he can’t have you up close, he’ll watch from a distance!! :(

Please accept his invitation to his apartment! You know he gets lonely in there.. relax, settle down, let him give you a drink, or three.. or five. Honestly, you don’t remember when you sat yourself on his lap, with his perverted gaze looking your pretty figure up and down while grabbing and groping your tits. You sworn that you felt something hard under you that caused your cunny to ooze with arousal, but you can’t seem to remember it all. You’re such a sweet thing, aren’t you? So naive, hase. You didn’t exactly let him because you were asleep, but watching your chest rise and fall with every breath, he just had to move your panties over to the side so he could pound his girthy cock into the warm, velvety walls of your pussy.

He was huge, every short, quick thrust causing his tip to abuse your poor cervix. You always made the sweetest little sounds, mewling while he was inside you, god forbid you were to say his name while you slept or you were to be woken up by all his rough fucking and heavy grunting, he’d lose control in an instant. One of his thumbs swirls quick little circles on your clit, making you push your hips up with need, while his mouth is occupied sucking marks on your soft skin. His hands grip tightly at your hips, which is sure to cause bruising later, but all he can think about is how tightly you’re squeezing onto him, milking his dick for all it’s worth. But for now, he’ll settle for pulling multiple orgasms from your sleeping body, the pace of his hips stuttering before letting out ropes of his hot, thick cum into your cunt. He doesn’t want to pull out, and has to snap a few pictures for later, of course!

When you wake up, you just assumed König helped you home, what a caring thing. A little uncomfortable, but you just assume it’s from all the drinking. In matter of fact, you were so exhausted and hung over, you left your panties on, keeping all of König’s cum inside you. ♡

[whore-for-konig]

sea bunny reader who constantly clings onto monster konig? 🥺🥺

It's only natural, really. You're small and weak, you're a bottom feeder who isn't used to having predators all around you...and even if you did have someone on your tail, you'd just have to roll on your tummy and die. It's natural selection, really, one of the reasons why you were sticking to the safe, warm waters and never going to the dark depths of the ocean floor. You were just fine in your lukewarm little kingdom. Until Konig swooped in and took you away, that is. You know why he did this, it's natural - he saw a pretty thing, he took a pretty thing. There are predators about in the depths of his dwelling, and so he never lets you stray too far from the cave he keeps you in. Not like you wanted to - you're clinging to him like a real bunny, a forgotten species of clingy sea kitten who needs the warmth of his body to survive. You didn't even want to let go of him the first few times he let you swim freely, out of the cave. You'd just nuzzle your face in his chest, pushing your body closer to him and wordlessly begging him to not let go of you. There was always a tentacle or two on your limbs, carefully caressing and keeping you in place. The temperature of his territory is way too low for you, so you'd always cling to Konig in an attempt to keep your warmth. It doesn't help that he would always let you just stay in his arms, either - sometimes you're not even swimming for a second, instead opting to curl down in his arms. He is big and strong - a perfect mate, as much as your body understands that eldritch creatures and sea bunnies shouldn't actually mingle. You still open your legs for him, meowling his name ever so sweetly and carefully, letting him fuck you like a pretty helpless thing you are, clinging to him for protection. You're way too precious to swim alone, and so he acts as your protector...even in cases when he is the one you should be afraid of. It's a good thing you're actually just a tad bit dumb.

[whore-for-konig]

riding loser!könig

by the time you managed to straddle him, he's probably already came twice in his pants. the way your fingers fumbled with his belt and the zipper of his unbearably tight jeans, his bulge rubbing against the rough denim and cotton boxers.

he already made a mess of the material, and feeling as your hands caress across his chest, your body sinking down on his angry, red cock, he couldn't help but shoot thick, pearly cum from his tip. it oozed down the side of his dick, drooling across his hips and down onto the sheets below.

you merely chuckled, a hand barely wrapped around the girth of his cock as you spread his release, feeling the veins under your palm and the way he twitched in your hand, curses in his mother tongue flying from his lips in a desperate gasp.

all you do is guide his cockhead to your drooling cunt, slick with arousal as you part your folds with his tip. sticky cum mixed with your sweet slick as you coated his flesh as if it were lube. you hoped it would make taking his heavy cock easier—it wouldn't.

even before you had guided his cock to your slit, his chest heaved, features flushed from his previous climaxes that came way too easily. it's not his fault he's never been touched by a woman! not all his previous attempts had been successful—the poor social recluse and his debauched thoughts left to his own right hand.

but you were different than his past endeavors—he didn't give up. he didn't quite understand rejection when it came to you. come on, schatz! he likes you, so shouldn't you feel the same way? silly, silly maus, he'll convince you!

and he did! which is how you ended up on top of him, his meaty, thick cock wrapped in your hands as you hover above him, fingers barely touching, waiting to impale yourself on his sensitive dick. his two burly hands pawing at your breasts, kneading the fat under his palms and turning the skin red.

a burn had split down your body as you slipped his tip past your puffy folds, feeling his cock head twitch against your spongy walls as you slowly sank down onto his cock.

you felt a thick, white substance ooze from between your thighs, the way your sopping cunt was suddenly full despite only pushing his tip past your folds. if it wasn't for the loud groan that fell from his lips, you'd have been clueless.

all you did was smirk, slowly sinking further down on his cock while you tried to adjust to his brutish size. small gasps falling from your lips with every added inch, and it didn't help when his massive hands creeped from your breasts down to your waist, slipping to your backside and gripping the flesh between his fingers with bruising force.

you yelped as he forced you all the way down onto his heavy cock—he's selfish! can you really blame him, schatz? you feel like heaven, how could be not!

you're so warm, and tight, and wet, schatz! he just wants to stay buried in your sopping cunt forever! your spongy walls clamping so tightly around him, he was worried you'd push him out! his girthy cock was stretching you so much, you could feel the prominent veins along his length, as though they could be imprinted into your pussy. like his cock was the only thing made to fit inside your tight cunt.

your hands fell against his chest, strings of incoherent words babbled from your lips as he used your tight cunt, his hips pounding you fervently as vocal groans and grunts escaped his throat, drowning out your soft cries at the feeling of his bulbous tip slamming against your cervix.

he didn't last long—reference the 4 other times he had came that night. a mere 30 seconds before he filled you again, thick ropes of pearly cum leaking from his cock that was buried deep in your spongy cunt.

his hands on your ass, grasping firmly as he held you down—despite your shuddering and squirming on top of him. his tip grazing your cervix as he hoped for his seed to take. he just wants to stay with you, and this is a sure way for that to happen.

by the end of the night, he had come at least 5 times—he's sensitive, schatz! if you want him to last longer, you should give yourself to him more often! then, he'd be able to be buried in your pussy for longer than 30 seconds!

[whore-for-konig]

can u pretty pls write some kidnapper! konig.. where he lives streams himself non-conning fem! reader ? while perverted men and other weirdos online watch and comment about us 😛

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, porn, non-con filming, size kink, kidnapping, power imbalance, degradation, tell me if I missed any.

Pleasure, whether consensual or not, was still pleasure, it burned through your nerves with a painful throb, a loud thrum that dazed you. You writhed, your feet kicking towards the camera he placed before you, pointing it towards your debauched figure, showing the audience - all sick and twisted men and women who were as sick as your captor was - how your slick cunt took him. König - your captor, your owner, your lover, or whatever fit him in the moment - was a giant of a man, his shoulders broader and thighs thicker than any man you’ve met, his whole body so big that he couldn’t even fit in the frame of the video he was directing. 

His form swallowed you, holding you still without much trouble, the muscles of his arms tensing and his abdomen rippling when a wave of pleasure ripped through him, his loud groans and shameless growls muffled by the balaclava he wore. His scarred hands bruised your supple thighs, spreading your legs open and slung over his lap, giving him full view of your. Your tight cunt stretched around his girth with a thick base and even thicker shaft, veins pulsing and pumping blood to feed his hard-on. He never groomed, he never saw the purpose for it, leaving it knotted and stinky, the musk of sweat and something that stank of him, a wild bush wet with your slick and his cum, glistening with how much he stuffed you with and a cloudy ring growing ever darker with the amount of orgasms he pulled from you. 

“Stupid whore, ”he spat, his grip growing stronger as he bucked his hips upwards, thrusting up as he dropped you on his cock, spearing you in front of a spectators, spitting degrading words and cruel insults, “Too dumb to listen. Too dumb to understand.”

He growled out his words, grinding them through his gritted teeth as he lifting you up and dropping you down on his lap like he would with the fleshlight he used to own, pumping it with a gross amount of cum when he was forced to watch you from afar. Imagining you squealing and choking on his cock worked wonders until it didn’t, he grew hungrier and hungrier for you, leaving him starving for you until he acted out his on his urges. He took things into his hands and brought you home, to lock a pretty collar around your throat and cut his name into your flesh to show his community who you belonged to. 

“You fight, but you always come on my cock,” he rasped, lowering his head to stare at your fluttering lashes, tears falling from them and rolling down your cheeks, a temptation for his tongue to come out and lap it all up. You were always so pretty when you cried, crying and mewling over him when he fucked you, ramming his round tip into your gummy cervix and pushing his cum deeper into your womb, “Schwanz fixierte Hua.”[Cock hungry whore]

Somehow, for whatever reason, your cunt clenched around him whenever he spat an insult, demeaning you to nothing but a cocksleeve or cum-dumping hole he would use forever after this one public show made you careen over the edge. Your back arched, pushing your swollen and perky nipples out as your walls closed around his cock, feeling every curve and groove of it and milking him for a second —or was it a third load? You couldn’t remember, all that your could remember was the shape of him, his rough handling and how sickening it was when he confessed that he broke into your appartement over the month and shared his plans he decided to enact. 

“Kan Stress Mausi. I werd mi guad um di kümman, und don zag i earna, dass’d mia g’heast. Klingt doch guad, oda?, “He whispered sweet promises as he pumped you full, his cock twitching as his body shook with the strength of it. He pressed a long and soft kiss to your cheek, a cruel smile curling the corners of his lips. [Don’t worry, mouse. I’ll take good care of you, then show them you’re mine. Good, yes?]

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