#könig 👑

[yandere-kokeshi]

Which cod boys would tattoo your name on their dick and why it's soap?

Warnings: details of penis tattoos, genital piercings, smut, and not Grammer checked.

Honestly, I think all the boys would do it (even Gaz), but the top cod boys that come up, are below the read more. Also, it's so odd that I was working on a similar fic when you sent this in 😲😂😂.

For Soap, you’re absolutely right. He’d do it out of ownership, jealousy, and realization that he just cannot live without you. He expects you to get tattooed the same; he wouldn’t mind doing it himself, forcing you down and making you squirm isn’t the first time, no? Oh, and Johnny would most definitely get a genital piercing, too. Maybe a prince Albert or magic cross. Either way, he ensures you appreciate it. And you do, right?

Nikolai would 100% jump the train. He’s a freak, inside and outside his thick skin. And it’s not like he already did it since day one of meeting you. He already has a few cock piercings too; a reverse prince albert and two frenums down his length. However, you don’t even know the thick ink till you go down for a blowjob, his erect cock standing as you look at the detailed name of yours; watching how his cum dribbles down his length, before he eagerly pushes your mouth down and let's you finish him off how you know. It’s only a matter of time, before he really begins to fuck you, right?

Alejandro is a romantic at heart. So it’s no surprise he keeps coming home with rather... expressive ideas of love; and when you, or him, get into a conversation of tattoos, oh boy, is it over. Alejandro gets it done and confidently shows it off, awaiting your reaction; chuckling at your surprised state. Though, he doesn’t keep you waiting, getting down on his knees and beginning to suck your cock/eat you out while the healing process begins. And then, when the healing is all done, he can finally fuck you and show you just how much you mean to him.

Lastly, König would do it simply because you mentioned it. Doesn’t matter where; could’ve been through a comment with Instagram you laughed at or rolled your eyes at the tweet of Twitter. Hell, even a playful tease, but as soon as you mention it, he’s getting it done and coming home with big ol' gray eyes, wanting you to relish the pretty ink. And you do, because that’s what an amazing spouse does, right? He can’t wait to let him fuck your throat, or your hole so tight that he will do so many creampies that both of you will collapse. But, he has his mouth, silicon toys, and thick fingers to please his fantasy, yeah?

[bits-and-babs]

𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢

könig is utterly mortified when you discover he has a very sensitive neck. it happens by complete accident. you don't even realise when it happens, the look of sheer panic in könig's eyes when you lift the draping mask to his chin and press your fingers to his bandaged skin after he returns home following an injury on a mission in belgrade. he's fine, but poor könig's neck is flushed bright red. from there, you learn that you can reduce him to a panting, whining wreck just by sucking on his pulse. he squirms beneath you when you pinch the soft skin between your teeth, drawing a blooming purple bruise to the surface. “f-fuck, mein perle- i'm-" he groans, tilting his head back and rocking his hips off the sofa. könig's meant to be resting, recovering from the shrapnel that got lodged in his neck, but the pain is little deterrent to the arousal he feels when you drag your tongue over his jugular. "c-cumming-"

[cheersyouslxg]

╰┈➤ 👑 König 👑

Woke up feral to the thought of König breaking down the bedroom door because of a fight and you wouldn’t open up. He warned you, multiple times, that if you didn’t unlock the goddamn door it was coming off its hinges and maybe you forgot just how strong he was or just how delusional he was sometimes when riled up that when the cracking splinter of the wood announcing his incoming had you frozen in surprise.

“Now, now, kleiner hase… don’t you ever run and hide from me in an argument.” He tsks, dropping to his knees and coming eye level with your form on top of the bed. His hand engulfs your jaw, forcing eye contact as he glares. “You’re upset, but you don’t ever leave angry, understand?”

[saturncodedstarlette]

Y/N @ the person they’ve argued with : I’m gonna kill them!

König, looking at them with heart eyes : Can I watch you do that? 😍

[deszczowedni]

[konigsblog]

dadbod!könig is so.. aghh :( dadbod!könig thoughts since it's pretty clear he's my favourite

trigger warnings for *legal* age gap, corruption, weed + drug use, free use? size kink

he'd tease. he wouldn't listen to your protests about him being to rough, instead fucking you relentlessly, your mewls and desperate whimpers flowing through your swollen lips. his grip is firm, rough and calloused hands grasping at your hips with an iron grip, dwarfing you with his size.

he has so much experience under his belt (literally) and i just know that he can't help himself from teaching you how to do certain things... perhaps, if you're struggling with your gag reflex, he'd deep throat you, cockwarming his fat, meaty dick with your wet mouth, getting you familiar with the sensation and weight down your sore throat. he'll get you to chant his name and speak to him through your raspy voice, strained from sucking him off.

dadbod!könig who definitely gets you interested in weed and other drug use. a joint held to your lips between your two fingers, taking a drag before handing it back to him, straddling his waist and rubbing your slick and bare pussy along his happytrail. his pubes are usually covered in your sweet musk, juices dripping onto his shaft, his hands guiding yours back and forth. probably forgets your limit and gets you smoking an overpacked bong whilst eating you out, sat with your legs spread wide apart, grinding down against his face while taking hits, left breathless and panting.

dadbod!könig who'll fuck you wherever he see's fit. doing the dishes, and he's thigh fucking you. thick shaft pressed between your two soft thighs, tip curving upwards against your sensitive, wet clit and rubbing against your slit, dragging it back and forth. again, he adores your little sounds as he rubs his leaky tip against your clit to get you all desperate, sloppily making out with you and wiping away any stray tears that stain your pretty face.

spankings with him and german lessons... bent over his large lap with his rough belt in hand, smacking you across the rear repetitively till he has you whimpering and crying, using his hand instead, rubbing it in soothing circles afterwards. “wrong, schatzchen... i taught you this.” after you'd said the german word, whining and mewling, before wriggling your hips in an attempt to break free, met with a painful and breathtaking spank that had you shaking.

jerking him off, god... you can barely think straight as you stroke him, face buried in his chest, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses all over it while he pushes you further into his burly chest, inhaling his musk. and you; grinding down against his thigh, rubbing your bare, slick cunt back and forth whilst jerking him off. or sucking him off whilst he smokes a joint, his hand on the back of your head encouraging you to take just another inch, forced down to the base with tears covering your cheeks and brimming in your waterline. “thaaat's it, liebe.. god, takin' it all, see? you can do it, baby.”

[itsirk-is-the-lusional]

December 2023

Poor könig being a chew toy for his partners </3

[grissdarling]

interrupting the briefing

[kleinexmaus]

You and König hadn’t necessarily been close, so to say; but you paired well on missions together. You both had a mutual respect for needing to get the job done quickly and efficiently, tactical out on the field with precise game-plans and flawless communication with one another.

But sometimes, and only sometimes (so you convince yourself), the cloying tension in the air between the two of you was distracting.

You weren’t one to say anything, as he was your superior and you’d rather not cause any potential issues in your line of work, especially in this line of work - but you’d be downright lying to everyone including yourself if you said you didn’t feel an attraction toward the Austrian giant beside you.

And you could tell he felt it to, judging by the way his eyes were trained on you from beneath his sniper’s hood - cold pools of steel-blue that held the slightest hint of piqued interest.

You kept your gaze forward, acting as if you were too preoccupied with the task at hand to sense his subtle stares, your body prone with your rifle in hand as you both lay next to each other on an empty rooftop.

“Target in sight, North side of the building, just down the hallway,” you advise into the comms, your rifle tucked closely to your shoulder as you peer down it’s scope. König shifts beside you slightly, angling his rifle to track the target you’re locked on.

‘Affirmative,’ the words of one of your teammates echoes loud and clear through your earpiece, just as you spot your team rounding the Southeastern corner of the building. They move with stealth, their guns drawn as they remain undetected in the hallway of the office building. You keep your rifle trained on them, watching their every move with König next to you, keeping a close watch on the target.

You shift in your position slightly, changing the angle of your hips as a dull ache begins to form from being prone on the hard rooftop for so long. A quiet hiss leaves your lips as your joints pop, and you notice König tightens his grip on his gun, his gloved fingers squeezing the hardened metal.

“Something the matter, Colonel?” you inquire with a teasing tone to your voice, hiding your smirk as you continue to peer through the scope of your rifle. You see him shaking his head minutely out of the corner of your eye, and though you can’t see his facial expression beneath his mask, you’ve noticed his body has tensed slightly.

‘Engaging the target,’ a voice cuts through the comms, and you’re drawn back to the task at hand, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

Finally. Your hips were really beginning to ache.

-♡-

The weather outside is perfect, the afternoon sun sitting high in the sky and warming the Earth as a gentle fall breeze cuts through the atmosphere. You’re standing in the courtyard of the base, dressed down in a simple tank-top and a pair of spandex shorts, your leg hiked up on one of the benches as you stretch your muscles. Its a perfect day for a run, quiet and uneventful, and you're taking every advantage of it.

Your eyes span over the course of the courtyard, numerous soldiers participating in various workouts and exercises, until your gaze lands on the familiar, tall form of König. He’s dressed down, the same as you, his tight cotton t-shirt hugging the broad expanse of his chest, his military issued cargo pants sitting low on his hips, and his sniper’s mask shielding his face. His Austrian accent echoes throughout the courtyard, tight and authoritative, and though you can’t exactly make out what he’s saying, you can tell he’s scolding the group of recruits he’s currently working with.

You keep your eyes pinned on him as you shift your other leg onto the bench in front of you, leaning forward slightly as you continue to stretch, watching as he directs one of the recruits to step out of line. He’s gesturing to himself, shifting his weight and getting into a stance that suggest he’s about to grapple with the recruit, his head tilted downward with a hardened gaze as he holds his fists out in front of himself. The recruit looks hesitant, almost taken aback by the massive form of his superior, but nonetheless he charges forward, swinging a fist out in attempt to catch König off guard. The attempt is a lost cause, as König simply offsets the soldier’s right-hook with a step backward and the brush of a hand, his foot coming out to sweep the recruit off their feet with quick precision before he pins them to the ground.

You snort to yourself, rolling your eyes as you stand straight, stretching your arms above your head. It’s then that König decides to stand and turn around, his steeled gaze catching yours almost immediately. His eyes shift from yours as he steps away from the recruit on the ground, slowly trailing up the expanse of your bare legs and the way your chest moves as you stretch your arms high above your head, before catching your eyes again. Though he indicates nothing, remaining unfazed behind the cold authority of his rank, his eyes linger on yours for a moment longer before he turns back to the recruits.

They continue their grappling with each other, this time with König stepping away from the group and instructing them as they spar amongst one another, and you decide to set on the course of your run. It’s a nice workout, not too straining but enough to get your heart and adrenaline pumping, the cool fall breeze cooling the sweat that begins to permeate on your skin. You stick to a course that runs around the base, passing numerous soldiers and offering them smiles or waves as you pass each other, the beat of music through your earphones carrying throughout your jog.

You keep the jog short and sweet, only a few miles around the base, and by the time you get back König’s group has dispersed. Instead he’s standing by one of the main entryways of the base, listening intently as one of the sergeants asks him something, his broad frame towering over them. He answers them shortly, nodding toward the doorway, and they both turn to walk inside.

“Hold the door!” You call out, not wanting to fumble for your badge (a shitty excuse, you know), and he turns around just in time, the door caught in his hand. He takes in your appearance as you jog toward him, your chest heaving as you try to regulate the airflow to your lungs, sweat beading on your brow from your time spent jogging around the base beneath the afternoon sun.

“Good afternoon, Colonel,” you offer him an innocent smile as he peers down at you, stepping aside to let you through the doorway.

“Sergeant,” he acknowledges, the words rolling off his tongue, thick with his accent. His gaze doesn’t falter as you step past him through the door, your hand coming out to brush his arm in unspoken gratification.

You feel the way his eyes linger on you as you make your way down the corridor, and you fight to hide the smirk that threatens to make an appearance.

-♡-

König isn’t a fool. He knows exactly what’s going through your head every time your eyes meet; knows exactly what your intentions are every time your hand brushes his arm; knows exactly what you’re trying to do when you lay beside him on missions, shifting your hips while your rifle is tucked close to you.

König isn’t a fool, but fuck if he wasn’t absolutely out of his mind for letting it affect him so much.

He’s seated in the common room, going over a report with a cup of coffee next to him, relishing in the quiet tranquility of the room. A majority of the recruits are out in the courtyard getting a workout in, or over in the gym beating the shit out of each other, which means he’s able to enjoy the peace and quiet of the common room and not be holed up in his office all morning to avoid being berated by soldiers.

But then there’s you, always seeking him out somehow - in some way, shape, or form. You saunter into the room, dressed in your fatigues, and for the briefest moment, his resolve slips.

It is absolutely beyond him that you could make a military uniform look that good. The way the cotton t-shirt hugs your curves just right.. the military grade cargo pants hanging low on your hips, hugging the swell of your ass and thighs in a way that would have any man, or woman, folding instantly.

It drives him wild, but he knows if he slips up now, it would only give you more ammunition to continue toying with him.

“Good morning, Sir,” you say sweetly as you acknowledge his presence. Your voice is warm, melting over him like sugar and honey and all things sweet, and he wants to get to the source of it, to claim those sweet lips of yours and get a taste.

He keeps his composure still, his blue eyes flicking to yours briefly as he echoes your greeting. He keeps the interaction short, dampening his inappropriate thoughts as he focuses on the paperwork in front of him once more, leaving you to get what you came for without distraction.

A few moments go by, the sound of you shuffling around in the kitchenette fogging his concentration, and he looks up to see you turned away from him, leaning into the countertop and standing on your tiptoes. You’re struggling to reach the instant coffee that sits on the top shelf of the cupboard, and he can’t help the way his eyes trail down the line of your back, your hips angled outward as you try to extend your reach. The movement causes your shirt to untuck from your pants, revealing a thin strip of the supple, soft skin that he so desperately wants to put his lips on, and he can’t help but smirk to himself, knowing it was all because of his doing.

He lets you struggle for a moment longer, deciding that you deserve to put in the work for all that you’ve been putting him through the past few weeks, and that he deserves the show of watching you strain to get what you want. He doesn’t let it go on for too long, though, knowing full-well that you’re stubborn and refuse to ask for help on most occasions, and finally rises from his seat, making his way over to where you’re nearly climbing the countertop.

“Stop, Täubchen,” he chides, placing a hand on your shoulder and pulling you away from the cupboard. He can’t help but to let his mind wander, the realization of just how small you are compared to him eating away at his thoughts. You huff as he pulls you away from the counter, an annoyed pout on your lips as you stare up at him, and he nearly folds right there.

He wants to give you something else to pout about. Wants to see how many other expressions you can make while he’s taking advantage of that pretty little mouth of yours.

He reaches for the coffee with little effort, grabbing it and passing it off to you before closing the cupboard and glancing down at you. You’re like a damn child that’s just won the biggest prize at the county fair, grinning up at him with a twinkle in your eye. Before he has time to dismiss himself from the hold you have on him, you bring a hand up to rest on his chest, your fingers deftly brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze become lidded, your lashes fluttering just enough to cause his heart-rate to stutter, before you’re pulling your hand away, focusing on the precious coffee in your other hand.

“Thank you, Colonel!”

He decides that if one day, he doesn’t die in battle, that surely you will be the death of him, instead.

-♡-

He calls you to his office one day, stress ebbing off of him in waves as he reads over the piles of paperwork on his desk. His entire body harbors tension, tight like a bowstring as he signs off on what seems to be never-ending reports, and the soft knock at his door nearly sends him over the edge.

“Come in,” his words are clipped, and though he doesn’t mean to sound harsh, he doesn’t have it in him to sound anything but exhausted and annoyed at the moment.

His tension eases slightly as you come walking through the door, closing it behind you before stepping forward to stand in front of his desk. He takes one look at you, seemingly small where you stand before him in the dim lighting of his office, your soft voice cutting through the silence of the room.

“Sir?”

“Do you have the report I asked you to fill out last week?” He asks tersely, tapping his pen on the desk a few times as a makeshift outlet for his miffed energy. You slide the manila folder you’d been holding across his desk in answer to his question, your hand brushing his briefly as he goes to grab the folder. Something warm stirs inside of him, bubbling past his irritation, and somehow it causes him to tense more as he flips the folder open. He scans over the report, double checking for any vital details and necessary signatures, before signing off of it and setting the folder aside.

“Dismissed.” He’s being short, maybe even a tad unkind, but he doesn’t have any energy to spare outside of getting his work done. A few seconds go by and you still haven’t moved from your spot in front of his desk, and he raises his head to peer at you, an eyebrow raised behind the fabric of his mask.

“Is there a problem, Soldatin?”

You’re lingering, just staring at him, and he feels his impatience peaking at your silence. It bubbles slowly, and he finds himself tapping the pen against the hard top of the desk a few more times as you shift where you stand. Finally you break your silence, sounding almost timid as you speak, and the contrast of it from your normal behavior nearly makes him laugh.

“No, Sir. It’s just.. Are you okay?” the question comes out hesitant, but your concern sounds genuine. “You seem a little.. tense?”

Tense? He scoffs, leaning back in his chair, twirling the pen between his fingers as he stares at you. He’s intrigued, amongst other things, but your sudden concern for his wellbeing outside of the absolute torment you’ve put him through for the past few weeks is enough to actually make him laugh. It rumbles deep within his chest, a dangerous sound, and it’s then that something deep inside of him stirs.

“Oh, mein schatz,” he coos lowly, and he wishes so deeply that you could see the smile that forms on his lips, a predatory thing that reaches his eyes. He can’t take it anymore - the toying, the subtle glances and ‘innocent’ touches, the sickening, sweet sound of your voice when you talk to him. It drives him mad, awakens something dangerously feral that resides dormant inside of him, making his skin crawl and his fingertips itch.

All these reports to go over, all this work to do; and yet here you stand, in the middle of his office innocently, as if you haven’t been the cause of a majority of his tension for weeks on end.

He wants to show you how it feels. How badly it consumes him. How mad it drives him. How pent up he is over the brush of your hand against his or the subtle shift of your hips against pavement.

He wants to destroy you, like how you’ve slowly been destroying him.

He stands then, tossing the pen onto the desk, the mere thought of getting any work done tossed out the window. He comes to stand before you, his movements slow, like a predator cornering a prey, and god do you look so pretty standing there before him, so small..

“Get on your knees, Vögelchen,” there’s no going back now, and he will not hesitate. He glances past you at the door to his office, ensuring that it’s closed, but keeps in mind that it isn’t locked.

Your voice snaps his gaze back to you, your cheeks flushed as you stand before him, completely caught off guard by his sudden command.

“My.. My knees? Colonel, what -”

He reaches a hand out, his palm caressing your cheek in a gentle manor, one that doesn’t match the tone of his voice, nor his intentions.

“Don’t ask useless questions,” he doesn’t like wasting time, and right now you’re stalling. “Your knees. Now.”

To his surprise, you obey him, sinking to your knees slowly with your hands resting in your lap. You gaze up at him through thick lashes, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t turn him on, the hard line of his cock swelling beneath the fabric of his pants. He reaches out for you again, his fingers coming to tuck a few loose stands of hair behind your ear, his thumb trailing over the swell of your bottom lip.

“Weeks,” he states lowly, his deft fingers of his other hand coming to undo the buckle of his belt. He smirks behind his mask as your gaze shifts down to the hardened bulge that aches beneath his cargo pants, watching as he pops the button of his pants and unzips them, revealing the dark fabric of his briefs. He reaches a hand past the waistband, gripping the thick length of his cock and removing it from the confines of his clothing. He nearly laughs at the way your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink he’s ever seen.

“For weeks, you’ve been teasing me.. Keeping me on edge.. Driving me crazy,” he strokes himself slowly, thick beads of milky precum leaking from the tip of his cock lazily as he speaks, and he swears he sees the hunger in your eyes as you sit there and lick your lips, your thighs pressed tightly together. He wonders if you feel as pent up as he does, as frustrated and desperate for release as he does.

“Do you understand how it feels, liebechen? To be brought to the edge so many times, without any sort of release?”

He keeps his hand planted on your cheek while the other strokes his cock in slow, languid movements, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. He can only imagine what your mouth would feel like around him, warm and wet and so deliciously good while he stuffed you full of his cock. The idea of it nearly causes him to tremble and he lets out a low groan, his thumb pushing past the seal of your lips, just to get a taste.

You keen below him, parting your lips obediently, your tongue swirling around the digit and welcoming it further, deeper. But when you lift your hands to his thighs and slowly begin sliding them upward, he withdraws his thumb and taps your cheek a few times, halting your progress.

“No touching, sweetheart,” he scolds. And though his words come out softly, that little endearment making every atom of your very existence combust, the words hold power and you listen without any doubts, returning your hands to your lap.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” he hums quietly, his fingers gathering the sticky beads of precum from the head of his cock and smearing it down the length of it. He quickens the pace of his strokes slightly, keeping an even pace and tightening his grip, squeezing ever-so-slightly and eliciting another groan out of himself. His eyes fall halfway shut and he continues to peer down at you through the holes in his sniper’s hood, his quiet pants displacing the fabric around his mouth.

“I’m going to make you feel how I’ve felt these past few weeks,” he hisses, almost spiteful, the hand that rests on your cheek coming to tangle between the locks of hair on the back of your head. He pulls, and it isn’t all that gentle, but it gets the job done, and once again you’re staring up at him with those innocent eyes and that damn, intoxicating pout of yours. He chuckles softly at the desperate expression on your face, your need to touch him and to be touched by him evident in your features. But he refuses to indulge you, providing you with the same drawn out torture that you’ve been putting him through.

“You’re going to leave my office feeling so empty.. So unsatisfied and on edge..” He’s panting heavily, and if you look close enough you can see just how blown his pupils are, replacing what used to be pools of blue with inky black desire. His grip tightens in your hair and he pulls you closer, the thick head of his hardened cock resting against the plush of your lips. You can’t help but to dart your tongue out, tasting the salty drops of precum that leak steadily from the tip, and you both let out a prolonged moan at the pleasure of it.

“I hope you get back to your room and the thought of this keeps you awake at night while you touch yourself,” he’s so close, the tension deep within him reaching a boiling point, threatening to spill over with every stroke of his hand on his cock. “I hope this leaves you aching, feeling so empty and needy that you crave nothing but my cock filling you over, and over, and over again..”

Finally, he breaches past the seal of your lips, into that tight, wet heat that he’s been so desperately craving since the first time he laid eyes on you. He can’t help the guttural groan that spills past his lips as he pushes as deep as he can go, until his cock is hitting the back of your throat and he comes, forcing you to swallow around him. He keeps himself buried deep within you, the hard length of him throbbing as his seed drips down the back of your throat, the tension slowly leaking from his body. And as his cock finally begins to soften he pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and fastening his belt buckle, before patting your cheek.

“Now, maus, you are dismissed.”

[emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago]

GUY GUYS GUYS

okay look I know we all love the name Korangi, we love them dearly yes I know

BUT

why isn’t their ship name Tiger-King

…I mean it’s RIGHT THERE

[notknickers]

piggy!könig and his military pink helmet

did a super quick and sloppy sketch of this brilliant fanart based on the exchange in the comments. @emoelvin , hope you don't mind!

[ghostlyouppy]

[bits-and-babs]

i need breeding kink!konig before i cryy also w small reader eeee

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

pairing : könig x f!reader ('perle')

synopsis : könig snaps after a particularly hard mission, unable to hold back his desire much longer.

warnings : [ 1k words ] Emotional distress, unprotected pinv sex, utterly pathetic könig, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating, reference to oral (f receiving). könig is a babbling mess.

notes: this is pure filth. barely any mention of small reader because i like to be inclusive <33

König’s combat boots drag across the floorboards of your shared apartment, depositing clumps of dried Spanish mud across the oak with each weary trudge of his feet. Your boyfriend carries his body over the house threshold like a wounded hound, his tail between his legs and eyelids still splotched with patchy grease paint. König is prideful, usually holding his gigantic frame with a regal posture to match his name– you’ve never seen him so crippled by what he’d promised would be a straightforward mission, in and out.

You open your mouth to ask, to say his name, to offer your support, noting the way König didn’t take his shoes off at the door like he always did. He doesn’t let you, his prodigious forearms encircling your waist with a vice-like grip.

“Just give me this, Perle. I need nothing else,” he promises you, his accent delicate to your ears when he whispers his plea into your hair. Clutching him tight, you liberate the breath you’d held hostage between the bars of your ribcage since König left. You’d been fearful, as always, that the oxygen in your lungs would serve a life sentence, but when your lungs expand again, aching at the edges, you smell his exertion, the earthiness of the mud that clung to his body, the gunpowder he’d expended while taking lives. He’s home.

“König,” you whisper to him, scared a louder decibel would rip apart the fragile foundations that kept the hefty Austrian upright. He shakes his head in response, his palms pawing at your hips, squeezing at the flesh he finds with overwrought neediness.

“Please, Perle,” he murmured, his voice cracking beneath the tide of his emotional turmoil, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass to pull your body closer, “I just need you. Need you close- need to be in you.”

It’s jarring, the distress you feel roiling inside the tense muscles of his back that you skirt your palm over not matching the dripping desire that coated his tongue. When you lean back in his grip, attempting to catch a glimpse of your lover’s eyes, he pulls you impossibly closer. The thread-worn material of his battle-tested uniform is soft against your skin, but the firmness of his cock against you is undeniable.

“Anything,” you whisper, and it’s as though you’ve let the hounds loose. König launches you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals of shock, and hurries towards the bedroom with absurdly broad strides.

☆ ☆ ☆

He chokes out a string of unintelligible German curse words when he finally bottoms out inside of you. König’s hands, webbed with silver scars that spanned across his knuckles, grasp at your hips and angle them skyward, his thighs flexing as he attempts to keep still for a moment.

“Hahh-ah- Still, Schatzi, be still,” he urges you brokenly. You wail, winded by the sensation of his preposterously thick cock spearing your cunt. It lays deep inside you, nudging at your cervix when it twitches. “S-Still-“

Statuesque, you haven’t moved a nanometre. It’s König, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck, mindlessly pushing his hips deeper into you with shallow thrusts. They’re barely there, slight and feeble, as he dramatically gasps out each time the sensitive tip of his dick brushes your cervix.

“Aha-Haaa, please, please, Perle,” he keens, his rumbling voice strained by his frantic desire. His fingertip pushes into the swollen nub of your clit, and it draws dangerously lazy circles over the sparking nerves there. You sob his name weakly, almost missing his rambled plea. “So tight- your cunt is so tiny for me, Perle. Ughh-fuck- let me cum in it? L-Let me fill it up, watch it spill out of you-“

Your back arches from the mattress as he withdraws his hips slightly, only to plunge them deeper. It’s ludicrous, you think, the way your body gives way to his ridiculous intrusion, but your toes curl with delight, and König wails out another string of profanity.

“Hah-sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles, his cock rocking in and out of you but never once entirely withdrawing from your heat, “I just need to fill this cunt, Perle. Need to see it leak– See you swollen with our child– fuck!”

König spits a broken moan when your hips arch to meet his thrusts. Your clit brushes his pubic bone with each joining of your hips, hurtling you towards orgasm and tightening your walls with bliss.

“So tight, so fu-huhhking tight, Perle– Fuck!” König gasps, his hips stuttering as he braces for your answer.

“Yes,” you whine, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm threatens to crash through you in a tidal wave, “Please, König, please fucking fil–“

König cuts off your appeal with a hoarse cry of your name, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm as his cock spurts thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your cunt. The warmth of the blooming pressure inside you sparks a blissful throb, your nails sinking into König’s forearms as it detonates inside you. You hear him through the mind-blowing buzz, wailing and sobbing about how you’re milking him, how it’s dripping from your cunt and into the bedsheets.

It’s hazy when the overwhelming euphoria floats down, König still hunched over your body and thrusting inside of you helplessly. His jaw hangs loose, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of agonising pain and paradisical ecstasy as he fucks his cum deeper into you.

“Hahah-Ahhh fuck, c-creaming all o-ohhhver my cock-“he slurs, his removing his oversensitive cock with a pathetic sob. His fingers sink into your cunt almost instantly, ignoring the curl of your toes and the arch of your back to stuff the dribbling cum back inside of your fluttering pussy.

“Need it to take, Perle,” König garbles, his eyelids heavy as he sinks low to the mattress to swipe up the remaining excess with his tongue. He mumbles around your pussy as he laps up his cum from its glistening lips, “Jus’ lift your hips, Schatz. Sit them on my face; I want to taste us–“

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[cheersyouslxg]

Todays filthy concept is grinding naked on König’s or Ghost’s lap while they’re fully clothed with your hands tied behind your back, guiding your hips just until you’re about to cum and then stopping while you whine and cry and beg for release. They smile, eyes glittering with cruelty as they shake their masked head and make you do it again.

[caroll-in]

my take on my fav boy König! 🥰 I'm planning quite a few projects with him in the immediate future, so it was about time I figured out his design 👑

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