junaskilgore

[junaskilgore]

@azrael1886 plays Ghost

[junaskilgore]

König x M!Reader

You always liked Junas. Ugh… You mean, as a commander. You mean… Fuck. Fuck…

"Have a nice evening."

You crossed paths at the shower exit: you were leaving, and Konig, as usual, was the last one in. No one ever noticed him here, and the privates laughed and made up stories about why. They were lucky that Konig himself hadn't heard about it.

"And you."

Damn… You were almost leaving, when something stopped you. No one knew what Colonel Kilgore looked like, and lately you had been especially worried about it. Or even… Excited.

For a colonel, he was still very young. Or rather, no one had seen his personal file, but his voice sounded very young. He spoke quickly, always a little embarrassed and without hoarseness - he was the only one in his squad who didn't smoke.

It was very strange, but you actually felt like he was your little brother, especially in moments like these. He came last not because he had things to do, but because he was, damn it, as shy as a schoolboy in the locker room.

And why was he so shy?

You hid very quietly around the corner and started peeping.

"Der Heller ward zu Wasser,

Der Batzen ward zu Wein..."

He was humming an old German song. His voice, clear and timid, was at odds with his mountain-build appearance. And you better pray that he doesn't see you now.

He was standing behind the locker door, and all you could see was his bare feet. Shit, did he bend down on purpose not to let anyone see the top of his head?

"Heidi heido heida..."

You watched intently. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. Damn, his voice… Less muffled than usual, which meant… That meant he had taken off his hood.

The locker door clanged as a huge hand pushed it open. His entire forearm was covered in scars: that was why he wore arm protection. Some of them were pale, some were still quite red and a little swollen, and they were almost not hidden by the hair. The hair on his arms was transparent golden. Fuck, why did that surprise you so much?

And… Oh God, you never thought you'd see what he looked like. Junas was standing a few feet away, oblivious, thoughtfully fingering a towel. Huge, muscular, a little chubby. He was only wearing a tank top and boxers, damn, it was so cute - his skin was so sensitive and tender that he couldn't wear pants without tucking his underwear in.

He sighed and looked strangely embarrassed, as if he felt your gaze on him. He had short, light-red hair that looked like soft plush, white skin, and broad shoulders covered in freckles. So fucking soft for such huge strikt solider.

He shifted from one foot to the other and you could see the muscles in his legs moving. He obviously weighed much over 100 kilos, of course he needed big muscles to move himself. Most of the guys in the squad would like to be as strong as him, including you. And they didn't want to mess with him after seeing him lift a fully-equipped adult man over his head and break his spine over the knee. If he treated his enemies like this, then how he treated who he loves?.. Damn, you wonder if anyone ever survived spending the night in his bed.

"Scheiße!"

You flinched when you heard the sound of a flask of water falling from the shelf and hid for a couple of seconds. Junas turned his head frantically, checking if anyone had seen him. He sighed in irritation and bent down to pick up the bottle. His movements became stiff, he seemed to become smaller; "poor little thing" - you would have thought if he weren't your senior in rank. Fucking subordination.

He was so shy. Shit, he was shy of himself. Big and defenseless. After standing there for a while, calming down, Konig took off his tank top. You, of course, were expecting the most interesting thing, but he quickly and silently walked towards the shower.

You suddenly thought that you probably weren't the first to notice. And what the hell could happen to those who pointed out how awkward he was?.. And the same could happen to you if you were located. Colonel Kilgore was afraid to talk, but he wasn't afraid to use brute force against someone he considered a threat. 

You were very lucky, and you had to go. You'll have a hard time sleeping tonight, though.

[junaskilgore]

König x M!Reader

You serve in the same squad as Konig. The rules in Kortac are strict and your time is short, but you managed to get close and become good friends. Or… More than friends.

"Fuck, Junas, you'll chock me!"

The sparring has gone too far. You are alone in a cold, empty gym. A training knife is pressed to your throat by a huge hand. If it were real, you would have been dead and bleeding out long ago.

"Come on!"

Junas gets off you and tucks the knife into his belt. He likes it. He looks down on you, in every sense of the words. And he likes the fact that you never leave a favor unanswered.

As soon as Konig got to his feet, you tripped him and rushed at him with a knife. He didn't fall, but he lost his balance and you tried to backstep him and hang on his shoulder, but he grabbed you by the collar with one hand.

Fuck, he can lift a mature war man like a travel backpack.

He throws you to the floor like an inanimate object and you gasp.

"Break!"

You flounder and cough, your back hurt.

"Terrorists don't hear any 'Break,' Kumpel."

He's already got carried away, but you know it's good-natured, he wants to scare you in a friendly way. After all, he's your colonel.

You grab the training machete from the floor and lunge. Konig dodged, falls to his knees, and grabs you from the back. He chokes you with his forearm, the fabric of his sleeve covering your mouth and nose.

Fuck. At times like this, you see flashes before your eyes and you can't see anything. And it's not fear. It's not even asphyxiation.

"Kumpel?"

Feeling that you're not resisting, Konig seems to loosen his grip, but as you're getting out, you kick him with your boot, and he squeezes your neck.

A sharp ringing in your ears. The last thing you hear is a soft crunch. It was the same sound he made when he broke a cookie from his dry rations, but this time it was your neck.

He broke your fucking neck.

You can't move or even scream in pain. All you can do is roll your eyes helplessly in horror and pray that this is fixable.

But even under the hood, you can see that for Konig, this doesn't seem fixable.

And when Konig starts to panic, it's really scary.

All you see is the cold, dirty ceiling as he drops you and stands between your knees. You wanted this, didn't you, you filthy fag?

But definitely not when you're lying there paralyzed, realizing that your stay here, as normal life, is over.

You're like a rag doll to him. You don't see him undress you, you just hear his heavy, hot breathing and the jingle of his army belt buckle. His or yours?

He looms over you, grabs your unnaturally dangling head with one hand, as if he wants to rip it off completely.

He grabs you by the waist, pulls you towards him and impales you on his dick. Perhaps it hurt, judging by what you saw while peeping at him in the locker room.

Perhaps.

He holds your iliac bones so tightly that they too will crack. He fucks you inhumanly, angry that you dared to break.

You can't feel anything, but inhales his heavy scent. And the scent of blood on his thighs and stomach. Your blood.

He growls terrifyingly, so low that you can barely hear it; fear, anger, and rejection pulling the trigger in his head. And you just thought you were imagining it when you noticed his glances.

He grabs you roughly by the broken neck, the edge of his hood covering your eyes.

When he's finished, he pulls away in an instant, turns his back to you, takes the machete, turns off the light and goes out.

As if you were never exist.

His toy should not have broken.