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kathy-ifnt · 8 days

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doing the laundry

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni, smutty domesticity, könig likes panties a lot ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (just like everything with panties i could think about), mutual mast*rbation, creampie)

König said he was gonna do some chores before we head out for dinner, but it seems like he's taking his sweet time. I go to look for him in this big ass house, running down to the cellar, where the washing machine and the dryer are. He said he'll do the laundry, so I'll probably find hi-

I peak my head in the door and my mind blanks, the words halting in my throat when I see him. Standing in front of the washing machine, his shorts pulled down, pooling around his knees. His hand is around his dick, moving up and down his length in hasty motions.

A piece of fabric between the fingers of his other hand. His nose buried deep in the soft purple, grunts dropping from his lips as he fucks his fist.

The frilly lace is giving it away. Those are my panties. My panties!

He is never shy about telling me how much he likes my taste, how much he loves having his face buried in my pussy. But this is a little different. My jaw drops, a gasp torn from my lips and he finally notices me. Dropping the hand from his face. Red hot blush staining his cheeks when he looks at me.

"Oh fuck, Liebes... I'm sorry.", he almost stammers, his mouth falling open, sucking in air.

Fuck. He looks so good. His chest peppered with dark hair heaving with his deep breaths. A stray strand of hair hanging over his face, sticking to his cheek. His abs taut, his dick hanging heavy between his legs, hard and red. The tip is leaking precum, wetting his hand, leaving stains on the sweatpants, as he tries to pull it up. Caught red-handed jerking off sniffing my panties.

As he is scrambling to get himself together, I take a few steps into the room, in his direction. Stopping his wrist when he tries to pull his sweatpants up even further.

"Don't stop on my account.", I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his jaw. He's still frozen in place almost like a statue, as I brush a strand of hair out of his face. Leaving him standing there as I make my way to the washing machine, lifting the hamper from its top and setting myself on the plastic covered surface.

Stupid heady desire rushing through my veins while I get rid of my jeans, purposefully keeping my panties on, a similar pair to the one he still got in his right hand. His eyes widen a little bit, the lustful stare meeting me while I sit there.

"I wanna watch.", I say, hoarse, almost soundlessly.

A little shiver shakes him, I can see it in the way his shoulders tense for just a moment.

"Okay." Taking one, two steps back until his back hits the wall, his hand dropping to his dick again as he leans back. This time it's the one holding my panties, the lace wrapping around his girth while he slowly starts to jerk off, his eyes meeting mine, a little smirk playing around his lips.

It’s not the first time seeing him play with himself, but still…

Mesmerized I watch him, biting my lip. I lean back too, propping myself up on my arm, and lift my legs up, positioning them at the edge and dropping my knees to the side. Showing off the panties I'm wearing right now, the fabric over my pussy already a little damp. Seeing him like that got me worked up a bit...

My hand moves down my body until it's between my legs, the fingertips brushing over the wet lace and I can't help but moan, the first contact with my clit - even through the fabric - making me squirm.

He falters a little bit, his eyes intently on my fingers, his own hand stopping for a moment before picking up speed again. He spits, down at his own dick, wetting it a little more, while gripping tighter.

My strokes get needier, feeling the wetness seep into the fabric as I start to rub myself, my hips bucking into my hand and I can’t help the sounds I’m making. Feeling the roughness of the lace against the sensitive skin, and the growing slick underneath.

As I pull the fabric to the side, he sighs. “Hmm, yes, stuff yourself, Hexe.”, the little order dropping from his lips.

And I’m more than happy to oblige, my middlefinger slipping into me. Adding another finger quickly, sighing as I try to reach deeper. Giving him full view of how I’m fingering myself, a little grin stalking onto my face, moans getting pulled from me as I push inside me, over and over again.

The simmering heat in his gaze feels like soft touches all over my body while he fucks his fist, his brows pulling together, his eyes glazing over as his jaw goes slack, a telltale sign that he is close.

"Fuck, g'na come.", he groans, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft, squeezing the tip with every pass.

"Not yet.", I tell him harshly, and he lets go of his dick, almost surprisinfly obedient. Breathing heavily, but just looking at me, his eyes narrowing, the lids droopy.

"Come here.", I mouth, making a 'come hither'- motion with my fingers, ignoring the wetness on them, and he follows in an instant.

"Yes, Ma'm."

Just two strides and his thighs almost collide with the washing machine, his dick hanging between us as he props himself up with one arm and leans forward.

I take the panties from his grasp, telling him "Open up." and he drops his jaw without hesitation. I love it when he takes charge, doing me however he likes to, but seeing the big hulking man just do everything I tell him to, also does things to me.

The look on his face, when I push my panties into his mouth, his eyes rolling back, groaning, sends another shiver over me. His hips rut forward, the tip of his dick nudging against my pussy, against the panties I'm still wearing, which only makes him groan more, the sounds getting muffled by my undies.

I chuckle a little, pressing a tiny kiss to his nose, before I pull the already soaked fabric to the side. He doesn't wait another second, pushing into me, and the sudden stretch pulls a loud whine from my lips. My hands shoot out to hold onto him, my fingertips digging into his shoulders as he grips the top of the washing machine and starts to fuck me. Deep hard thrusts, pushing me into the surface, and I desperately try to meet his movements, try not to get pushed off the surface.

He never holds back his sounds, his grunts and deep moans intermingling with mine when he is fucking me, but with the impromptu gag they get stifled in the most delicious way. Sounding a bit more desperate too. My own sounds reverberate off the walls, the small cellar room creating an echo of my moans, the slapping of skin against skin, the rattling of the machine underneath me as König's thrusts shake it.

The tip of his dick reaching deep inside me, his girth stretching me when he pushes balls-deep.

I reposition myself, my legs up high, ignoring the hardness of the surface beneath my butt. Leaning further back and my feet dangling over his shoulders as my knees get pushed into my front. The change of angle has me lose my mind, filling me up just right.

“Yes, yes, just like-”, I plead, my eyebrows pulled up, and my eyes going wide, the words getting stuck in my throat. I’m desperately hanging onto him, my fingernails digging into his biceps, leaving red marks - something he won’t mind at all - while I come. Making a mess on his lap, wetting the panties I'm still wearing even more.

König doesn’t stop, pushing my legs further back, his hands grabbing the plush of my thighs while he sinks into my pussy, his long hair whipping back and forth, the soft strands brushing over naked arms and shoulders. His eyes roll back, the expression on his face mirroring the one from before, when he had his nose buried in my panties, and he comes as well, his upper body shaking hard, the plastic surface aching as his hands press into it.

I can only stare at him, my mouth fallen open, my eyes fixed on him. The groan leaving his throat, getting caught in the fabric of my panties, sends a tingle down my spine.

His hips stutter forward, his dick pumping into me, sticky cum spurting inside me, spilling over my pussy and panties. He slows down, pushing into me one last time, slick dripping out of me.

He’s pulling back, softly caressing my thighs where his fingertips left little bruises with how hard he was grabbing me, lowering gently.

I jump from the washing machine, landing on the floor, grinning up at König. He’s still gagged, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. I reach up and pull my panties from his mouth, soaked in his spit, and he catches my wrist. Pressing a few soft kisses to it, and the back of my hand. When he lets go, I toss the little piece of fabric into the hamper.

“Thank you, Liebes.”, he hums, smiling down at me, drowsiness dropping his lids and blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome, Sir.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips while he pulls up his shorts.

Grabbing the waistband of my panties, I pull them down instead, the damp fabric clinging to me for a moment, and then I put them in his pocket, patting it, gesturing him with a little wink, that those were his now. As he seemed to like them so much.

He grumbles something in German, pulling me against him again, capturing my mouth in a kiss. A long and sweet one that has me melt against him.

“Shower and then going out to dinner?”, he suggests, pressing me against his sweat slick chest, his arm coming around me. “I’ll do the laundry later.”, grinning down at me apologetically. Like I ever could be mad at him when his little distraction lead to some hot and kinky sex.

"Yes, cause that was my last washed pair of undies.", I tell him, with a sly grin and a sidelook at the basket full of dirty clothes. "Seems like I need to take a page from your book and go commando for once."

He groans, the sound almost turning to a little growl. "You're killing me, Hexe."

I giggle. "Just pray that I don't pick out my one short dress today...", I tease him.

He catches my chin, making me look up at him as he leans down, coming closer and closer. "Oh, quite the contrary.", he drawls, his signature smirk stalking onto his face. "I pray that you wear that one cause I like it. And you're still gonna be a good girl and behave."

My mouth drops open, sucking in a breath as he presses a kiss to my lips which is a threat and a promise at the same time. He lets go of me, and I grin up at him, before I back away, still holding his gaze.

"We'll see...", I say, dashing away through the door, but his hand still lands on my butt in a loud spank. I laugh as I keep running, up the stairs.

“Can’t catch meeee.”, I shout over my shoulder which always does the trick. I’m scooped up within seconds, his strong arms lifting me up.

“If you keep this up, we’re never gonna catch the reservation…”, he grumbles, but I see the mischief flashing in his eyes.

My answer is a giggle, my hand tangling in his hair, grabbing the long strands between my fingers, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of his face.

~ More in the Masterlist ~

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kathy-ifnt · 13 days

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Ex Husband König x You ❤️‍🩹

Thank you a million times over to @shotmrmiller who’s ex husband Si AU fully inspired this and because Toni brainstormed with me, dreaming up the vile creature that is König your X. We are the toxic.

I’m hella excited about this one. Dark subject matter & smut ahead (possessive and obsessive behaviour) - MDNI and proceed with caution ta x

You couldn’t put a finger on the pulse point of what went wrong with König.

Maybe it was the long months he spent away, that made distance begin to swell in your heart, eating through the purity of the love you had for him. Perhaps it was the fact he missed the birth of your third child, a baby girl, because he was earning huge amounts of money doing god knows what, in some far flung corner of the world.

When he came back to you there was a second honeymoon each time. All pacific blue eyes and puppyish adoration, that boy like charm lightened his harsh features and reeled you in. It was almost suffocating. König adored you and the family you gave him. But you felt he enjoyed the violent glamour of mercenary life more, continually putting it above you all, and that was a bitter pill to keep swallowing.

Then there were the moods. Black storm clouds of darkness that seemed to descend on him without rhyme or reason. It could be an innocuous comment about his absent and longed for father, made via Skype by his Oma. Or just an everyday inconvenience like someone cutting him off at an intersection. But tendrils of a vicious melancholy would inch over his personality like a sickness, dragging you under the heavy mist of it too, until you were at each other’s throats spitting venom.

König would beg your forgiveness, tender kisses and stolen moments when the children were in bed. Then he’d be gone again with the promise of improvement, spending more time at home in the near future, that never seemed to come to fruition.

Your babies would sob for him and you would have to sweep up the pieces of your lives, for however long it took him to get paid.

The straw tenuously holding you together, was ripped to shreds after König told you he was sending money, in lieu of coming home for Christmas. He couldn’t understand why you were so upset, he’d make it up to you once he got back and buy the kids plenty of tat to help them forget it. As ever his selfishness stung, but this time it tipped you into a precipice of self preservation.

You’d packed the 4x4 up and left to stay with your parents for the foreseeable, your darling boys and sweet sleeping girl in the rearview. When you sent the divorce papers to his base, he returned them with a post it note stating plainly he’d signed up for ‘death do you part’. König intended to hold you to those vows by force if necessary.

It was clear in his normally neat handwriting, now blurred with fury. Splashes of ink staining the paper like droplets of murky blue blood, rips in the fragile material where his fist had driven the pen clean through it.

That should have been a warning sign.

König took the next flight home, though no amount of pleading would change your mind. So an uneasy truce was reached, you would stay in the house he paid for indefinitely and König would get visitation whenever he was on leave. Everything remained in his name, the bank accounts were always full of his dirty money, but he signed the papers legally ending your duty as a wife.

Except that it made absolutely no difference.

König came home like a victorious barbarian every few months. Sliding easily back into the house and heading straight for your marital bed. It was such a pain to get the locks changed after all and honestly you doubted whether that would stop him.

Before you could protest, he’d be nose deep in your folds, eating your pussy so rapturously it almost made your sleepy brain forget about the bullshit of being married to him. König would make love to you with his tongue and you’d make excuses for why he couldn’t fuck you. It was inappropriate for one thing. But König barely listened, sensing the way your resolve crumbled every time you felt his hung cock harden just for you.

“No one else can fuck you like this Maus. Let’s have one more baby ja? We always wanted four and I know you would like another girl.”

It was insidious, the way he made you question your own valid reasoning for abandoning the ship wrecked union, every time he brought you to a shaking peak beneath him. He would be ravenous, pussy drunk and it reminded you of sweeter times before the tempest of separation took hold. Hands in his cropped hair dragged him into the crook of your neck, where he dealt burning love bites like he wanted to replace your missing wedding ring.

One night, after eons without the weight of a man between your thighs, you got ballsy and let the sweet guy from the bar take you home. Out with your girlfriends, they encouraged you to accept a drink from him. In the half light and under the influence of a crisp Chardonnay, he was cute and you wanted some affection.

In his apartment, you examined the extensive collection of Warhammer figurines, painstakingly decorated with a steady hand.

It was a solitary and average shag, which you thought little about. It scratched that particular itch, a craving for closeness you’d been so sorely lacking. A few texts were exchanged afterwards, then you politely dipped out of the conversation.

You had no idea that while eating cheerios at the kitchen table one morning, your sons had innocently mentioned to König that their aunty had babysat. The little boys were full of excitement, telling their daddy how they’d watched cartoons until past bedtime, not noticing the violent possessiveness clouding over König’s features.

“What time did mama get home, tell me?”

They told him happily you hadn’t come back until morning. You were none the wiser as to why König’s usually mischievous disposition had evaporated, replaced by something frighteningly savage.

It was also news to you, that König had the password to your phone. He needed that to install a tracker obviously, so silly maus to think he would allow you to roam around unchecked while he was abroad.

It took him less than five minutes to find out the man’s name. Your chat history had signed the poor blokes death warrant.

A few days later, you’re idly flicking through the channels on the TV, sipping a coffee from the expensive machine he bought you for your birthday. There’s been an animal attack in a park nearby, suspected bear but the details are unclear.

Then the image of your one night stand plays across the screen and you choke, rasping for breath. Shit! It feels odd to see him plastered on the monitor, especially because you have no idea why anyone would go camping in the middle of November. It’s even more puzzling that he got attacked by a wild creature in your quiet little town, that hasn’t seen anything of the sort for years.

But you’re busy, dealing with an increasingly territorial ex husband and three little ones. König’s intensity is bordering on obsession, he insists on going everywhere with you under the guise of not missing out on time with his children.

You try and argue that the kids are at school and you don’t need him to help with the groceries, but it falls on deaf ears. He’s got tinnitus remember? From one too many explosive devices being detonated nearby.

So your weird feeling about your now deceased night of fun, is replaced by concerns König is getting a little bit too comfortable. Out in the garden, König unashamedly dumps his blood soaked clothes into the fire pit, building a roaring blaze so hot, it takes hours to get it cool enough for you all to toast marshmallows on.

Later on, he lays easily in the kingsize you bought when you moved in, long legs spread out like he owns the place. He does of course, but that isn’t the point. You try not to think about what the sight of the dark hair covering his navel and creeping down underneath his boxers, does to your libido.

“The spare room is made up. You can sleep in there tonight.” You tell him firmly.

König grins maliciously up at you.

“I can’t eat your cunt out that far away maus.” He stretches languidly and gets under the covers, then pats the bed beside him. “Get in and don’t argue.”

You try and make a fuss, ranting in hushed whispers that he’s overstepping your boundaries. In one dizzying motion, his body is next to yours, broad palms on your cheeks, so you’re forced to look up into his marred face, every scar waxy in the warm light of the bedside lamp.

“I could drag you into bed kicking and screaming Schatz, but I’d far rather you spent that pent up energy sitting on my face.” He looks entertained by that, like it’s tickled his odd sense of humour. He always did snort with poorly timed mirth at other people’s misfortune.

Snarling with annoyance at the sight of him lounging in your high thread count sheets, you turn on heel and make towards the chilled hallway.

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder before you can reach it, almost weighing down your steps until it feels like you’re moving through treacle. Then he locks the bedroom door and puts the key on top of the wardrobe. He knows you can’t retrieve it up there.

Like so many nights before, König has you straddling his lap after hours of sloppy, desperate foreplay. His thick fingers cut into the meat of your hips, as he drives your shuddering body down on his weeping prick at an unnaturally savage pace.

Every vein obvious on the tautness of his swollen shaft is teasing you, effortlessly dragging against the walls of your hyper stimulated core until tears pool in your eyes. The sound of your slick is pornographic, bouncing off the tastefully painted eggshell walls.

König is glassy eyed too, his short hair sticking up at odd angles, where your hands attempted to tug him away from suckling your clit until it throbbed with both pleasure and pain. It’s what you needed, the thing you crave the most while he’s gone. A ferocious fuck that has your body transformed into liquid by the end, a burning sensation in your gut where he’s planted himself so deeply it’s like he wants to reshape your body to fit his.

“Look at me.” König hisses through his teeth, the words strained as the muscles in his chest tense, fighting to hold off his impending release. “I want to see your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.”

He snaps his hips up hard, pounding into your soaked cunt and spreading your legs so wide you almost break then and there. Deep set and heavily lidded, his gaze sweeps your sweat sheened body, while he grunts with each jerk inside you.

König flips you onto your back, arranging one arm so it rests on his muscled shoulder, face now so close to yours that you can almost taste his perspiration. The new angle of his cock tearing into you, makes the crest of the wave shatter and you cream for him, a milky collection of your arousal forming a ring at his base.

When you finally regain consciousness, following the blissful sensation of being fucked through a hard earned fourth orgasm, König is tense above you. Like a coiled spring, every nerve in his body is alight with the need to spill until your cunt overflows with his seed.

“Let me finish maus. Bitte.”

There’s a pause, but the minute you give him the order he’s rutting into you until he starts to soften, painting your soft walls with thick spend. König lies shaking at your side, back to his needy alter ego, with gentle touches and huffs of endless devotion.

You forget sometimes, that there’s nothing your former husband loves more than being your loyal servant. A man who’s life has been built around following explicit commands and who craves your direction. Even while he revels in asserting himself over you, ultimately you’re the one who gives him permission to let himself go fully.

The power exchange is a hell of a drug. A guard dog tamed into your lap, while it snarls at everyone around you with a curled lip and harsh fangs.

You wake the next morning feeling boneless, melted into a mattress still sticky with sweat. König gets up early always, you can hear him downstairs with the kids. No doubt he’s playing house. A brief interlude where you’re not there to remind him, he can’t choose when he steps into that role on a whim.

By the time you make it into the kitchen, everyone is in the garden running riot. You watch König using the hose to aim icy jets of water at your boys, as they shriek and duck, while your youngest hangs off one of his thick calves.

The news is still repeating the macabre bear attack story on an endless loop. It makes your skin prickle, a nervous sense that there’s something at the periphery of your consciousness you’re not picking up on, because it won’t move into the daylight.

König is now standing at the outside tap, scrubbing copious amounts of coppery mud from his heavy boots and flushing it down the drain.

“Do you think we should be worried? About bears?” You ask him, thinking about the way your property backs onto open woodland.

He doesn’t even look up from the movement of the stiff brush against the soles.

“No, you don’t need to be worried.” König flicks a bit of grass off one of his laces nonchalantly. You ponder the easy sincerity through which those words are formed. That same uneasy sensation gnawing at the pit of your throat.

“I got the boys a present, it’s in the car.” There’s something in his eyes a little like malevolence, the baby blue of them crinkling at the edges as they flash wickedly up at you from his crouched position.

It’s a Warhammer introductory set. Eerily similar to the figurines you admired in the apartment of your one night of fun.

Nausea creeps into your stomach, a dread filled tingling sense of horror at the realisation your ex husband borrowed your car that night. The same car you’re standing next to, door half open. The one that has the little car seats in the back, your daughters beakers and stuffed toys haphazardly scattered throughout the interior.

You don’t hear him approaching behind you, until he’s pressed up against your back. He moves quietly, no heavy footfalls, only the steps of a trained soldier, bred to sneak towards the enemy unawares.

Wide glossy eyes gaze up into his satisfied face.

“What’s the problem Liebling? You like these little models do you not?”

Oh fuck.

^ Me pelting out of that garage at full speed to get away from him. Imma have to do a part two of this because I enjoyed writing it so much.

@cutiecusp @sigrid666 @pxssygxblin @misshugs

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