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#könig x oc
slutweeds · 2 days
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The Many Benefits Of Being A Marine Biologist - 1
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Eldritch Octo!König/ Marine Biologist!Tango AU
Aka: rise of the monsterfucker👌
Summary: The Sierra Golf Oceanography Team has captured an unusual creature that appears almost completely human
Words: approx 1.2k
TWs: eventual teratophilia
Click.
"March 27th, 2024, timestamp 0430. This is Tango Victor, Oceanography Group Sierra Golf, division 141." She spoke into the tape recorder as she stepped up closer to the massive saltwater tank in the center of the lab where the research group's current crop of specimens were swimming. Searching the water for one particular, recently caught unit. "Beginning initial examination of specimen Kilo-Tac-Zero-Zero-One."
The creature had stayed away from the glass since capture. It seemed to be shy, avoiding being spotted as much as it could in a laboratory.
As usual, Tango was the first lab tech to arrive in the morning. Because she took the work seriously and had a passion for the job, Dr. Barrera trusted her to start the shift alone until the other staff arrived.
"Specimen K-001, collected by a small Austrian fishing boat off the coast of Germany, was nicknamed 'König-- 'King', in German. It's approximately..." She checked the previous notes from the specimen's capture--
WHACK!
"Fuck-!" Tango jumped back from the thick glass of the tank, dropping her clipboard and tape recorder- her eyes wide with shock and fixed on the massive form of the creature in the tank. Staring straight at her with its-- its hands flat on the glass. God, it really had human hands.
It towered over her, the strange, dark hood that covered the structure of its head flowing gently in the tank, the rest of its body staying so still that she wondered if it was a predator in its natural habitat. One that kept deathly still until its prey was in striking distance.
Tango kept her eyes on the creature as she picked up her supplies from the floor, half of her ponytail falling in front of her shoulder as she stood again.
She drew a deep breath, eyes fixed on the holes in the hood surrounding the thing's eyes. The eyes were a brilliant blue. Beneath the eyes, on the hood, were distinct red markings.
"Specimen 'König' stands at approximately..." She measured him with her eyes, taking another cautious step towards the glass. She hoped it was reinforced. "Seven feet in height." She continued reporting her initial findings, pacing in front of the tank, trying to see more of his-- its- angles. It watched her all the while, and she wondered if it would eat her if given the chance. If it was capable of eating large prey at all.
"König displays an uncanny and, frankly, horrifying mimicry of human anatomy. Displays primary and secondary sex characteristics of an adult human male, including hairlike structures in human postpubescent patterns--" her eyes drifted towards the specimen's weirdly human, weirdly big dick. "Goddamn..."
Fuck, that was on the tape now.
She cleared her throat, looking back up to its face and feeling herself blush when she saw its eyes still locked on hers. Unblinking. Whether or not he-- fuck, it- was human or not, it was weird to stare like that. Not that it knew or cared- unless it did? If it had human-shaped sex organs, how did it reproduce?
"Uh-" She came back to her current research. "Initial examination suggests that König is vertebrate, but appears to display some level of intelligence similar to cephalopods. Further testing required. Behavior appears to be predatory, though its main source of nourishment is still unknown... It hasn't been seen eating since collection and doesn't appear to have a mouth- so method of ingestion is also unknown."
She hit 'pause' on the recorder and took notes on her clipboard. There was a diagram of a human male, and she drew the details of his physical appearance over the picture. The hood, scarring across the torso and arms, notes about his appendages- ten fingers, ten toes, seemingly human bone structure. If it weren't for the bizarre hood that appeared to be attached to König's body, he could've passed for human. Perfectly. A terrifying thought.
She came closer to try to get a good look at the skin of his palm while it was on the glass. Even his skin looked human. It had pores and lines. And she looked at her own hand for reference. He was so intricately evolved to look like a man. What a strange camouflage for an organism to have in the ocean, of all places.
She would've thought he was a mammal if she'd seen him surface for a breath of air at any point. Nobody had seen that, and surveillance cameras hadn't either. The only known time he'd been out of water was during his capture when the fishermen mistook him for a man.
She'd watch every second of his life cycle if she could- however long it was- just to gauge how long his species lived and if they changed with age.
Knowing Shepherd, the head financier of the group, he'd order the research team to plan for dissection. Or worse: vivisection. The US government wanted sooo badly to know what made this specimen tick.
Tango and Dr. Barrera could only argue for nondestructive inspections for so long. And König was the first of his species to be discovered- there couldn't have been many. Not nearly enough to euthanize this one for analysis.
"But what the fuck even are you...?" She wondered aloud, leaning closer to the tank to look at his palm, her face only an inch or two from the glass.
Suddenly, König leaned closer to the glass too, bending until his eyes were at her level, staring intensely through the two-inch thick barrier.
Tango flinched regardless, her brows raised as she pulled quickly back from the tank.
Whatever he was, he understood eye contact very clearly.
Fuck, she kept thinking of it as a 'he'...
Well, he seemed to be studying her as much as she was studying him.
"God, you're creepy..." She muttered under her breath. Creepy but absolutely so fucking fascinating.
She pulled her hair back behind her shoulder as she stood upright.
To her surprise, König mimicked the movement- pantomoming pulling hair behind his shoulder and standing up straight.
"No way..." She thought aloud, brows furrowing. She held up a hand and waved slowly.
König did the same.
She pulled in her middle, ring finger, and her thumb; leaving her pinky and index extended as the 'devil horn' gesture.
König mimicked her perfectly.
Tango caught herself smiling, letting out an incredulous laugh as she dropped her hand to her side and continued notes on her tape recorder.
"Specimen appears capable of behavioral mimicry, displaying high intelligence. Fuck, I love this job..."
Behind her, the lock on the laboratory door disengaged and she heard someone enter as it recessed into the wall.
Tango looked over her shoulder, seeing one of the field researchers, John Price, approaching the tank.
"Morning, Tommie," he greeted, voice gruff with recent sleep. He smelled strongly of cigar smoke- something Barrera had scolded him for entering the sterilized lab with. "How's the 'King'?"
"Morning, Captain," she greeted in return. Price and his team were the ones to retrieve König from the fishermen who found him. No doubt that he had a vested interest in hearing updates about this specimen. "He's-"
She looked back to the tank, seeing that König had retreated deeper into the tank, disappearing into the blue haze.
"Huh," she pursed her lips, gently tapping her pen on the glass. "He was just right here."
"Barrera said it hasn't been seen up close in the tank yet," Price noted, then playfully nudged her arm with his elbow. "Must've taken a liking to you."
Tango’s brows knitted, and she strained her eyes as she looked for the large creature in the abysmal tank. "Or he's hunting me."
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milkywayhou · 1 day
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YOU'VE GOT EMAIL (König X OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART I
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Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl.
or
König send wrong email to a wrong person
TWs: A lot curse words (from Snow), both of them being passive-aggressive, slow burn (kinda). I just wrote this for fun
Words Count: 3k (That's a lot for an email lol)
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
02/28/23 at 03:42 pm
Subject: KorTac Tactical Operations File E12345 Classification: Top Secret
Lieutenant,
Apologies for the inappropriate transmission. As head of KorTac Special Forces, securing sensitive documents is of utmost priority. Please confirm deletion of the attached file and we’ll consider the matter closed.
While I understand your confusion receiving such a file unsolicited, KorTac business must remain confidential. I trust a responsible professional such as yourself understands the necessity of discretion in such matters. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if any other issues arise.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
02/28/23 at 07:12 pm
Subject: RE: Creepy email
Excuse me,
I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is I got some weird files from “KorTac Tactical” that I definitely did NOT ask for. Do you know how scary it is to get secret military documents out of nowhere? I thought it was one of my friends pranking me at first.
Instead of lecturing me about deleting things, maybe you should be more careful who you send your “top secret” info to. I’m just trying to study neurology over here, not get dragged into some clandestine Special Forces stuff.
Lighten up a little, yeah? It was an honest mistake I’m sure. No harm done.
Snow
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
02/28/23 at 08:02 pm
Subject: RE: RE: Creepy email
Ms. Farron,
I can assure you there was no “creepy email” or files sent from this office. As Commander of one of the world’s premier private military factions, securing classified intel is of utmost priority. If some file was erroneously transmitted to your address in error, it did not originate from my users.
While I understand the desire to shrug off mistakenly received sensitive documents, national security does not warrant such lackadaisical treatment. If you have relevant data in your possession, basic courtesy requires replying to the original correspondent – in this case, myself – to ascertain the source of error.
Do let me know if you retrieve any files in question. And in future, a bit more discretion and less indignation may serve you well when inadvertently encountering restricted information networks. Consider this a learning experience.
Regards,
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
02/28/23 at 08:22 pm
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Creepy email
Hi Colonel Tightpants,
Thank you for the condescending lecture. As I’ve said THREE times now, I never got any files from you or KorTac or wherever before. All I know is I woke up to an ominous email saying “Top Secret KorTac files” or something. Pretty annoying/alarming for a simple student!
And excuse me for not dropping everything to thoroughly investigate a mistake that wasn’t even mine. Some of us have actual classes to study for, not play secret agent all day.
If you’re so worried about security breaches, maybe focus on your end instead of harassing innocent people via multiple snobby emails. I’ve got better things to do than argue in circles with Mr. High-and-Mighty.
Please remove me from your contact list going forward. And do try to lighten up a little!
Regards,
Snow
P.S. The file is attached. I called it “Creepy Email From Creepy Colonel” for your convenience. Have fun decrypting your own mystery ;)
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
02/28/23 at 09:42 pm
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Creepy email
Ms. Farron,
I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful and unprofessional manner. While your frustrations are understandable, maintaining proper decorum and respect for sensitive operational matters is not an optional courtesy – it is imperative.
You’re accusations of “harassment” are as unfounded as they are insulting. Do not mistake my patience and courtesy thus far for weakness. Should any real documents surface from my network in error, I expect their immediate return without petulant games or sass.
As a private military organization operating across the globe, security is no light concern for this command. If unable to grasp even the basic responsibility of confirming received documents' origins for the sake of national safety, perhaps the world of intelligence is beyond your current realm of comprehension.
Consider this your final warning. Any further unsubstantiated claims or uncooperative behavior will be met with the full weight of legal action and your academic institution will be notified accordingly. Is that absolutely clear, Ms. Farron?
Reply confirming so or cease contact immediately. I will not tolerate insubordination, especially from an civilian amateur dabbling where she has no clearance. Maintain discretion as instructed or suffer consequences – the choice is yours.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/01/23 at 09:29 am
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Creepy Email
Colonel High-Horse,
Spare me your thinly veiled threats. If you’re so sure I have hide some Top Secret Files™, by all means come search my dorm room yourself since you clearly don’t believe a word I say. Oh wait, you can’t – because there’s NOTHING.
Maybe take a break from power tripping over email and try listening to the person who’s actually involved for once. Not my fault if your big bad security systems have holes. But I guess acknowledging mistakes isn’t very military, is it?
You wanna see uncooperative and petulant? Keep harassing me and I’ll forward our whole conversation to the national news. Something tells me they’d love to hear how easily “the world’s premier private military” loses confidential files.
So for the last time – I did NOT receive ANY files from you or KorTac aside the one you accidentally send. If you’re incapable of comprehending that, then you’re dumber than you look. Consider THIS your final warning to lay off before I take action, Colonel Tightass.
Snow
Formerly Civilian, Currently Pissed Off
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/01/23 at 08:55 am
Subject: Enough
Ms. Farron,
Your insubordination has crossed several lines. While I sought to resolve this discreetly, you force my hand with threats and insults. Know that I do not respond kindly to such provocation.
If you insist upon escalating this beyond reason, so be it. However, tread carefully – you are ignorant of forces beyond your control. Dare to sully KorTac’s name to fuel your petulance, and all your academic and personal records will undergo… thorough review.
Accidents happen, as you claim. But any damage to our operations will not be taken lightly, no matter your perceived innocence. Heed my words well, girl – you do not wish to become an enemy of this command.
Consider this last attempt at civil discourse. Cease contact and let this die, or suffer consequences you cannot imagine. The choice, as before, remains yours.
I expect no further correspondence. You are now on formal notice – proceed at your own peril.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/01/23 at 11:38 pm
Subject: Go to Hell
You want a fight, you’ll get one you pompous prick. Your “command” and threats mean nothing to me.
If anything happens to my academic career or personal life, the world will know exactly who’s responsible. I don’t care how elite you think you are.
Bring whatever you’ve got – I’m not afraid of some borderline psychotic and his glorified gun club. You want a target? Consider it painted on your back from now on.
Have fun trying to intimidate me, ASSHOLE. You just made the worst enemy of your pathetic life.
Goodbye forever. Don’t bother responding – you’re officially dead to me.
Snow Farron
Future Doctor, Current Pain in Your Ass
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/02/23 at 01:29 am
Subject: So Be It
Foolish girl. You have no concept of the forces you now contend with. Consider carefully the hole you’ve dug, for there will be no mercy if you proceed.
However, my integrity will not permit baseless threats against civilians. If you agree to cease hostilities and let this dissolve quietly, no further action will be taken. Your record and life will remain untouched.
The choice is simple – walk away unscathed, or persist in this idiocy and face consequences beyond imagination. Think carefully on your next move, little one. Tread no further, and this can end.
You have one hour for a sensible reply before measures are taken. Make them count.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/03/23 at 02:04 am
Subject: Bite Me
Yeah, I’m real scared of your “forces” and “consequences beyond imagination.” Give me a break.
You think I’m going to bow down to your threats just because you’re some big shot Colonel? Please. I’ve dealt with way scarier than pompous bully babies like you.
So do your worst, tough guy. Come at me with everything you’ve got. I promise it still won’t be enough to make me back down from a pissant fraud like you.
Your “hour” can go fuck itself. You want to end this? Then stay the hell away from me and leave me alone forever. Otherwise this isn’t over by a long shot.
Tick tock, pal. Your time is running out and so is your chance to slink away with your tail between your legs. Better figure out your next move fast!
Not holding my breath for anything “sensible” though. Later, loser!
Snow “Untouchable” Farron
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/05/23 at 11:09 pm
Subject: wassup bitchhhhh
Hey asshooooole its ur girl Snow again!! Had a few dranks w/ friends to forget ur stupid email but the pain remainsss lolll
Jus wanted to let u kno ur still a total dickhead no matter how drunk I get. Probly shouldn’t be emailing u since last time but fuck it YOLO right???
Anyway ur threats meant nothing I had a blast tonight. Try n stop me next time I feel like partying fuck face!!! No1 messes w snow n gets away with it
Also saw some guy who looked like u at the bar what a coincidink lol. Hope he feels as stupid as u in the morn ;))
Hope ur having a shit night missing out on the fun. Don’t reply I prob wont even remember this! Byeeeeeee loser stay mad <33333
Xoxo drunk snow
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/06/23 at 01:50 am
Subject: RE: wassup bitchhhhh
Well well, what have we here. It seems our intrepid Dr. Farron has landed herself in an inebriated state this night.
Can’t say I blame you for seeking alcohol’s comfort after our little disagreement. Dealing with my “stupid emails” and “threats” must have been terribly traumatic. You have my deepest sympathies, truly.
While unwise to conduct militarized business intoxicated, I’ll admit your drunken ramblings provided some mild amusement. The imagery of you partying it up solely to spite me was rather quaint. Do try to stay safe in your revelries, dear – would hate for some unfortunate accident.
As for your daring insinuation about encountering my likeness at a bar, I can assure you my nights are occupied with matters far more pressing than drinking. But I appreciate the laugh, strange as it came from such a belligerent tongue.
Enjoy your hangover, Snow. And sleep well – who knows what mischief tomorrow may bring.
Regards,
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
P.S. Do refrain from over-indulging too often. Wouldn’t want those fine medical skills to dull prematurely, now would we?
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/06/23 at 05:28 am
Subject: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh
Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We all do dumb shit when we’re drunk occasionally. At least I have an excuse, unlike you and your constant stick up the ass personality.
That being said, I suppose I owe you an apology for that ridiculous email last night. Not my finest moment, to say the least. But you seem to bring out the worst in me, so.
Consider us even for any “amusement” you got at my expense. I’m suffering enough with this hangover from hell as it is.
Just so we’re clear though – I’m not some damsel for you to patronize or imply threats towards. Keep your smug sarcasm, I don’t need it. We’re done here, got it?
Good. Now fuck off and leave me alone to die in peace, Dickhead von Buzzkill. And next time – lay off the sauce OR lay off me. Your choice, Colonel
Snow “Moderately Sober But Still Pissed” Farron
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/06/23 at 09:33 am
Subject: RE: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh
Alright Colonel Buzzkill, I’ll admit my constant insults aren’t getting us anywhere. As much as I hate to inflate that already massive ego of yours, maybe there was a tiny little misunderstanding somewhere along the way.
Med school has been kicking my ass lately and I’ve been on edge. Between the mounting student loans, endless assignments, and stressful exams, I’m about one Red Bull away from a full breakdown. Not that you probably care about such peasant problems.
Anyways, my point is – I may have overreacted a bit to this whole email mixup. Even if it WAS totally not my fault *eyes emoji*. Can’t a girl blow off some steam without the world’s most uptight Colonel threatening her into an early grave?
Lay off with the intimidation tactics already. I said I was sorry for getting drunk and belligerent, more or less. What more do you want, my first born child in sacrifice?
Just, try to lighten up a little if we have to keep interacting for god knows what reason. I’m too exhausted to keep fighting a war on 20 different fronts. Truce?
Overworked and Underpaid,
Snow
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/06/23 at 09:01 pm
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh
Oh? So the fledgling doctor deigns to admit a modicum of culpability at last. How gracious of her highness to acknowledge her part in this debacle, no matter how begrudgingly.
Though I’ll not deny deriving a certain satisfaction from seeing you squirm, that was never my aim. As Commander of KorTac, security of sensitive data is no laughing matter – a concept you seemed unwilling or unable to grasp at the time.
However, as one engaged in higher pursuits of intellectual rigor and public service, I can understand the pressures that come with such territory. Medical education is a noble yet arduous path, as I’m sure even your addled mind comprehends on occasion.
Very well, Ms. Farron – consider this matter put to rest. A temporary ceasefire it is, for the sake of future global stability if nothing else. But tread not again where you have been warned, or I shall not be so gracious next transgression.
Do try to mind your health and studies in lieu of drunken revelry. Wouldn’t want to lose such a pugnacious spirit to frivolity or misfortune. Now, do run along – no doubt some looming assignment awaits its dissection.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/07/23 at 02:19 am
Subject: Aw, you DO care!
Aww, is that actually concern I detect underneath all the big important Colonel bluster? I’m touched, really. Who knew you had a soft spot for lowly students like me.
Admit it – you just can’t stand the thought of little ol’ me disappearing in some “frivolous misfortune.” You’d miss having me around to aggravate that permanent stick up your butt!
But don’t worry, it’ll take more than a silly paper or two to take me out of commission. Unlike some people, I actually know how to unwind without threatening international incidents *cough cough*.
All jokes aside though, truce accepted on my end too. Maybe now we can move past wanting to strangle each other every time we’re in the same email chain. Small victories, right?
Anyways, gotta get back to the grind. Thanks for not making me regret extending the olive branch…this time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!
Your Favorite Almost-Doctor,
Snow
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/07/23 at 08:05 am
Subject: RE: Aw, you DO care!
Cease this incessant jesting at once, fraulein. I neither “care” for you as anything more than a potential security concern, nor possess any jovial qualities to “aggravate.”
A commander's duties require maintaining surveillance of volatile elements wherever they arise. You have thus far proven yourself quite the unpredictable variable, so forgive my reluctance to take eyes fully off the matter.
As for your studies, consider this the only encouragement they shall receive from me. Master your craft with distinction, then mayhaps our paths need not cross again in the future. Though I admit the thought of you disappearing into obscurity does bring its own satisfactions to ponder.
Now then, if you’re quite finished wasting both our time with your misguided attempts at levity, some of us have real work to which attending. Do try and keep yourself from causing further disruptions, medic. You may resume your “grind” in peace.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
--
To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/07/23 at 12:56 pm
Subject: RE: RE: Aw, you DO care!
Always so grumpy, Colonel Grumpy Pants! Lighten up a little, will ya? Not all of us can be stoic hard asses all the time.
Speaking of asses, mine is practically dragging on the floor from exhaustion. Between classes, labs, studying, and my various part-time jobs, I’m surprised I have any brain cells left at all.
Don’t even get me started on these student loans. At this rate, I’ll be paying them off until I’m 90. Not that you military bigwigs have to worry about pesky things like money, I’m sure. Must be nice.
You know, maybe I should just forget this whole doctor thing and become a sugar baby instead. At least then I could afford to eat once in a while AND maybe some lucky rich person would be willing to pay off my debts. What do you think – interested in an investment opportunity? I promise I come with lots of free sass and jokes at your expense!
Kidding of course…or am I? You’ll never know!
Your favorite broke and tired med student,
Snow
--
From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]
03/07/23 at 03:37 pm
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Aw, you DO care!
One of these days that improperly-filtered mouth of yours will find its owner in hot water she can’t jest her way out of, medic. I’d advise reigning in these fanciful sugar baby musings before they land you in a far less pleasant situation.
However, your frustration with the systemic burdens of medical education is…understandable. The modern model leaves much to be desired in terms of sustainability for both student and society. A dysfunction perpetuated by greed and shortsightedness at the highest levels, as with so many ills in this world.
As for offers of “investment,” I’ve no surplus funds to patronize frivolities. Nor the patience to entertain speculative propositions from volatile girls who can’t keep themselves from inviting more trouble than they bargain for. Focus that restless energy on your studies as discussed, and all should proceed smoothly.
Now then, if there are no further inanities requiring response, I’ve a command to oversee. Best of luck with exams and endeavors, Farron. Dismissed.
Colonel König
KorTac Commanding Officer
I will write the next part later when I have time <3
Also comment love and reblogged are very appreciated! 💖
49 notes · View notes
ghouljams · 3 months
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With Love, König tags: König x f!reader/f!oc, regency era au, manners, collaring, courting, king!König, reader is mildly insane, König is going to marry you and that's a threat Summary: Your fiance runs off, your reputation is in ruins, and worst of all König has decided he's going to make you his queen. He doesn't even ask your father's permission to do it.
You receive word that your fiance has left you in the short hours of the morning. It comes in a carefully folded note, with his seal, and his signature. It's cruel, but not unexpected. You'd known for long enough that this was an engagement for nothing but your title. Still, you shed a few tears onto the parchment at the loss of your future, bleak as it might have been. You can rest assured that your parents, and the rest of the social world, have already received the news. You expect they'll start looking for another match for you soon.
The second letter is somehow more surprising. You don't recognize the black wax seal, or the handwriting. You don't know how it slipped past your family without being opened, but it's tucked on the same tray as your fiance's letter and you break the seal with cautious fingers.
"My Heart," it begins, and you frown at the familiarity, "You have bewitched me, body and soul. My every hour is spent with thoughts of you. The memory of your touch is only remedied by my own hand, and even that is not enough. I hope that you will accept this small token of thanks for the dance we shared, and look forward to our next meeting with the same fervor I do."
You look up from the letter to stare at the wall. You narrow your eyes at the wallpaper and do your best to try and think of who the fuck is sending you love letters. Certainly not your ex-fiance, he never did more than send you a note asking you to wear something "more appropriate" for the next party. You look back at the letter. It's a bit stuck at the bottom, likely to keep whatever token it contains in place. You slip your finger carefully under the edge of the fold to open it. A silk ribbon flutters onto your lap as you stare down at the king's signature. "With Love, König" in perfect royal handwriting.
You scramble to ring for your maid, you need to get dresses and you need to speak to your father immediately. Your maid seems to either not know or not care that you are received a letter from a king because she helps you get ready with her usual compliments and coos. Disinterested in the day ahead of you, you always assume. She ties the ribbon behind your ears when you ask her what to do with it. The black clashes, but you don't have time to argue.
König is already in the sitting room with your father when you finally make it downstairs. He stands almost as quickly as you drop into a low curtsy. Your father stands too and you're taken aback by how small he looks next to König. Your father has always been a proud man, a man to be feared as much as respected, but next to König he may as well be a child. You drop your eyes to the floor, proper and polite.
"Gott in himmel," König breathes, and your eyes dart to him. His brows are drawn together, like he's in pain. You can't tell if he's displeased when you can only see half of his face, his mouth obscured by a dark black cloth. You meet his eyes and are quick to avert your gaze, lest the heat in his burns you.
You rise from your curtsy and keep your eyes on the floor. "My lord," you greet, and hear him hum. He's pleased you think.
"My lady," The way he stresses "my" makes you shiver, his lady, "look at me when I speak to you." You're quick to follow his command, the tightness in his tone is intriguing, but you can't see a reason for it when you do look up at him.
Your father attempts to raise issue when König stalks towards you, his voice drowned out by the way the king fills your vision. You barely flinch when he grabs your chin, and turns your head. His skin against yours is unfamiliar and rough, it makes your skin prickle with heat as he sighs.
"You're wearing this wrong, Hummelchen," He tells you, his free hand going to tug at the end of the ribbon around your head. The black silk is tugged loose, falling delicately into König's grip. His thumb teases your lower lip, improper and entirely hidden from your father. "You want to wear this right for me, ja?"
You open your mouth to answer and he pushes his thumb between your lips, presses down against your tongue to hold you open. Your eyes dart in your father's direction, panic rising in your chest. König's eyes crease at the edges, he tips his head to watch your tongue try to work under his grip. You settle for swallowing, your lips closing around his finger as you nod your head. What else can you do in the face of a king?
"Braves Mädchen," He praises sending another prickle of heat over your skin. You feel like all your manners are just being thrown out the window, it's making your head spin. His grip loosens, his thumb sliding out from between your lips to smear the wetness against your hot cheek. Warmth pools between your legs, entirely too familiar, and entirely his fault.
König makes a twirling motion with his finger, and you don't hesitate to turn. You can hear his fingers pulling the length of ribbon between his hands, and you're glad to have your hair off your neck when he loops the ribbon around your throat. You have to tip your chin up, you have the sudden --and startlingly appealing-- thought that he could very easily choke you like this. König's fingers pull the ribbon tight, and you make a quiet noise of... protest? Approval? You make a noise, and it loosens just enough to be comfortable. He's quick to tie a neat bow, the tails of it hanging on either side of your spine. You touch your fingers to the silk. Like a collar.
König's fingers linger on your neck, and you tilt your head to afford him space to touch. Each brush of his skin makes your heart race, this monster of a man is so gentle with you. As if you were some treasure he could hardly afford. He curls over you, one of his hands sliding down your arm. He grips your wrist tight, and raises it to his lips. You turn your head to watch him, his eyes are dark when he catches you staring. His teeth flash dangerously in the light where they scrape against your pulse. Not so gentle then.
"You will accompany me to the next party," He leaves no room for argument in his command, states it like a fact predetermined by God, "We'll announce our engagement there."
"Your what?" You father asks behind König, aghast at the breach in conduct. You hardly notice it, entranced by the way he presses his cheek into your palm.
"Kay," You breathe for him. He's just like one of the heroes from your penny novels, better for being real. You wonder if he's ever killed anyone, he'd look good with a little blood on him.
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starofthesea7 · 11 months
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König~ Bitte (please)
(König cums too fast - pure filth)
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König is a grunting mess beneath you, cheeks flushed deep red, eyebrows furrowed in ardent need. Brawny, scarred fingers grip threadbare cotton sheets, white knuckled— green eyes glossy with tears as he gazes down at you with fervour, pleas spilling from bitten lips. He’s in full tactical gear, fresh from the field, completely covered from your gaze, save for his bare crotch on full display between the zipper of his undone canvas pants.
He’s inexperienced- you could tell, even though he’d never murmured a word on the subject- it is laced thoroughly throughout his needy actions, the way his hips buck at the smallest touch you give his pale, rippling thighs, or how his heavy cock jumps when you praise him with sweet words. And there’s something so electrifying, having this beast of a man, in a killer’s uniform, writhing beneath you- it all goes straight to your head.
He is colossal. Infused with motor oil, brine and secondary cigarette smoke and the dirtiness of it- of him, cracks open the inviting door to even filthier actions.
His head is pressed harshly against the cool cement wall, damp hair curling around his brow. His mouth hangs agape— a glint of canine flashes in the dim light. His exposed his cock is tall and waiting eagerly for you and he’s embarrassed- you can tell by his flushed cheeks- embarrassed at how hard he is when you’ve barely even touched him- his engorged cock flushed deep purply red— glistening with a bead of pre spend at the sensitive head. Fuck.
His voice is rough and strangled, an honest attempt to string coherent thoughts together, “—ah, bitte, please...” He trails off, unsure of what he want’s you to do, all he knows is that he wants you.
You hold his gaze, vehemently, as you remove threadbare cotton in a swift motion, to revealing your naked frame to his widening eyes, you’re in nothing but a black thong and his glassy gaze is glued to your chest, he’s unable to tear it away, all gentile manners falling to perverse automatic action, he’s once more a teenager exploring his first playboy, struggling to take it in. Hair cascades around peaked nipples, and you’re a vision. He lets out a ragged breath at the soft swell of your breasts, truly questioning whether this was real- whether this was just another of his wet dreams and he’d wake up alone and have to shamefully clean sticky cum off himself. “You are…” he trails off on a ragged cliff, as if no known, spoken word could describe you, and the thought makes your heart swell against your ribs.
There’s a push and pull in him, you can feel it. Part of him instinctively wants to take control, have you his way, throw your body over the desk and ravage you- you both know that physically he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you. But something in him keeps him sat, under your control. He’s dying to do as you say, to follow your lead. The king has surrendered, and you are his unexpected successor.
Your hips bulge as your legs spread wide to fit over his massive thighs. Sinewy muscle tenses under you and the sight of his cock just waiting there for you makes your stomach clench. He’s staring at your crotch, at the small patch of wet fabric and the way it clings to the outline of your puffy cunt. There’s something pornographic about the way he’s fully dressed in tactical gear, complete with steel toed boots and dirty canvas pants, and you mount him bare, save for a sopping thong. Your airy, sultry voice cuts through thick, sweaty air, “Has it been a long time, König?” You’re being a bit patronizing, frankly, but you can tell he likes it, or he wouldn’t be this hard- pre-spend oozing out of his swollen slit.
His eyes rise to yours, and his pupils are blown wide, his voice breathless, “Ja-fuck-yes Maus, been so long. Please, touch me.” Your soft hands find his lower belly and its taught and veiny, skin scorching, you trace his abs, over his whisper of a happy trail, and you feel his muscles tense beneath your fingers, littered with scars. Your softness melts into his roughness and you’re pulled into him as if he possesses his own gravitational force. You gather his pre-spend from his stomach on two fingers and he watches with bated breath as you raise them to your lips, you take them deep, and the poor man doesn’t know what to do with him self. He’s briny and bitter and you want to force the taste further down your throat. A pathetic sound leaves his mouth, and it makes your stomach flop.
You rise up slide your thong to the side, exposing your cunt and he’s eager to position himself for you. Ready to bend to your every need, all he wants to be is good for you. You feel your stomach clench in anticipation as you are struck again with how thick he is- the thought of him stretching you out makes you thrum with anticipation. You’re sopping, and he’s dribbling from the tip— cock sliding deliciously easy, against the seam of you, right up against the choking split. Your fingers find locks of his hair and you ground yourself in him, as he catches harshly on the edge of your hole, right against your clit and pleasure shoots through your body. You’re both so sleep and touch deprived and that just makes you all the more fervid. You’re embarrassed at how fucked out you must look, but his head is thrown back and he’s almost drooling and you can’t look more desperate than him.
You run his mushroom head over the split again, and he’s unable to contain himself, softly bucking his hips into you, and when he finally breaches your hole, spliting you wide for him you let out a sharp sound, fingers harshly grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He sobs, voice ripping through his hoarse throat, “Ah-ah! Maus, fuck you’re so hot inside so… small.” It’s really he that’s large but you don’t bother correcting him. You tighten your fingers, fisting his hair, surely hard enough to hurt, as you inch yourself lower onto him. His fingers find the fat of your ass and hes pulling your cheeks apart, marks sure to bloom purple and blue later. His hand finds the waistband of your thong and he’s pulling it, overstimulation forcing him to action, the feeling of it dragging against your clit makes you keel. You hear the fabric rip, and he’s murmuring a slew of apologies. “Ah- I’m sorry maus-” You kiss his cheek sloppily in forgiveness. Salty and warm- stubble brash against your lips.
You pull back and his eyes drop to your little cunt, swollen lips stretching out around him and he’s in awe that you can take him so well. He’s definitely bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, but you can tell he doesn’t understand the extent of his size, and now is not the time to boost his ego, so you bite your lip and when your skin finally meets the cold metal of his zipper and he’s fully inside you sit there for a beat to adjust. Hes pulsing deep inside you and you can fucking see the outline of the head of his cock protruding from your belly, just below your bellybutton.
And when you point it out to him with a sickly sweet voice, “See you, so deep inside me König?”
He grunts, “Fuck me,” having to tear his eyes away a second later to keep from orgasming right then and there.
You begin to softly bounce your body above him, you tell yourself it’s to go easy on him, but truly you don’t think you could do move more with how deep he goes. Cold metal of his zipper harshly grazes your soft skin. Your breasts bounce with every movement and he pulls you into him, groaning into your shoulder, and sharp canines nick your flesh. Your grip in his hair mirrors your clench around him, painfully tight.
You speed up, slapping of skin fills the room, your flesh bubbles between his iron fingers and he’s whimpering into your ear, before you feel him twitch inside you. His eyes go wide and he’s suddenly blurting out, “Im sorry, I’m so sorry-ah, fuck.” His hips are bucking up into you faster, you feel them stutter, and his mouth falls open to softly bite your shoulder. His cock twitches, mushroom head notching somewhere deep inside you— and you can feel it in your stomach. He shudders all over, his huge form shaking with the strength of his orgasm, and then he blushes deep crimson. “I’m- A-ah,” Cum spurts out fitfully, and you feel it, hot and thick, filling your guts, and you can’t help but whimper into his hair at the feeling.
Warm pressure blooms in your belly. His deep raspy breaths grate against cold stillness.
Tears are brimming in his glassy eyes when he raises his head, damp curls falling across his forehead. Your cunt clenches at the sight and you redden at the obscene squelch it makes. He swallows hoarsely, “I’m so sorry. I wanted to…I couldn’t— you just felt so good—”
Another open mouthed kiss to his cheek makes him let out a soft puff of captive air.
“‘S okay König.” Your eyes sparkle, voice soft. “I can sit on your face, and you can make me cum then, yeah?” You smile coyly, as his eyes widen, cheeks flushing once more.
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inhan---inhan · 1 year
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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months
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König masterlist
Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader {Mythical AU, dubcon smut, flangst, Beauty and the Beast elements, 18+}
There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 
Part 1 | Part 2
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Christian Woman {Romance, angst, fluff, smut, 18+}
König x Nun!Reader | This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting. You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores, and the relationship turns out to be far from platonic. König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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Possession {Dark fic, heavy angst, smut, 18+}
König x Maid!Reader | Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 
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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT {Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, violence, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}
König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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Valkyrie {Dubcon, smut, flangst, romance, 18+}
Virgin!König x F!OC | The situation had indeed taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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Just Friends {Dark romance, smut, heavy angst, 18+ WARNING: Not safe or sane}
König x F!Reader | She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Even Demons are Lonely {Angst, pining, König POV, yandere, 18+} He comes back after a mission {Fluff, mild smut, angst, yandere, 18+} Just Friends playlist (by @evil-squint-etc) Art for Just Friends by @shizukaay0
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Yandere!König headcanons & drabbles 🚩(NSFW)
Random headcanons List of König's fantasies What if reader was a virgin? Picnic with König What if she tried to leave? König shaves your 🐱 Yandere!König x Yandere!Reader AU
More under yandere könig tag!
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bits-and-babs · 11 months
Note
Your fics are amazing! Would you ever write about König?
𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆
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synopsis : rumours of an elite soldier have the base reeling. murmurings of 'monster' and 'freak'. what happens when you come face to face with the beast, only to find he's nothing like the whispers cautioned?
pairing : könig x f!reader
warnings : 18+ mdni. war, violence, graphic gory imagery, self-conscious könig baby, little bit of hand kink, basic bitch smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tight fit, sugar-sweet teeth rotting smut. this feels so basic… but I was struggling. please note, kilgore is a name previously linked to könig. I have used it as a codename 🙂
könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask
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Warfare training preps for the inevitable—those moments you need to fire a weapon and how to camouflage and navigate enemy territory without detection. These inescapable horrors are 'another day in the office' by the time you enter the field, the prickling chill of fear driven out of your system. Whistling RPGs are not dissimilar to the scream of your Drill Sergeant's commands, the cold, hard ground of a dilapidated building no more uncomfortable than the standard-issue barracks mattress you would ease your wearing bones into after training. 
Fear, beaten out of each man and woman that slipped on the uniform, held no commonplace in the military. Weapons, the call to war, brutality and sirens did little to raise the blood pressure. 
Whispers held far more weight and struck unease into the hearts of even the most desensitised of fighters. 
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It was inarguable that each military in every country, at any time, had its own 'boogeyman'. Notorious fighters with absurdly large kill counts consisting of three digits that inevitably earned a bounty for their head, funded by the enemy—elite warriors who acquired a legendary reputation that ultimately became horror stories. The Ghost of Kyiv, The American Sniper Chris Kyle. These military cryptids kept their enemies awake at night, baying for blood and begging for the piles of bodies they left behind to stop growing. 
After years in the SAS, you were beginning to think that there was no such thing. Each soldier was prolific, brutally efficient and inarguably the best of the elite forces. It was only upon entering Task Force 141, a genuinely mean feat, that you began to hear the unshunnable, hushed whispers of Kilgore. 
“Did you hear about Berlin?” 
“Kilgore? Yeah, heard he blew away a whole Al-Qatala cell.”
“Twelve of ‘em. The hostages were traumatised.”
These mumblings had persisted for months, consistently updated with crazy tales of whole garrisons blown to smitheries by this massacre-happy hulking mass of pure military precision. You, like the rest of 141, elected to ignore the gossip. This was a battlefield, filled with elite soldiers, not a school playground. 
                            ✰
Austrian mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, your heart lurching in your chest as your rain-soaked fingers almost fumble your gun to the sodden ground. It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain edging on a flurry of sleet as lightning cracks above your head. Clothes soaked through, the moisture and icy wind form something of a ‘Pact of Steel’, working together to deep freeze the marrow of your bones. 
As you slip in the mud again, heel skidding across the slick soil, you realise how dire the situation truly is. Separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigated north. You continued running for the safe house once discovering your coms had been dispatched by a stray bullet— that certainly would have ripped through your heart and dispatched you instantly if not for the layers of plastic settled over it. 
Thunder rumbles in the clouds above, the boom reminiscent of a distant air strike. Slurried earth gives way beneath your feet as you push on. Exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you scramble for safety, bested only by the adrenaline that buzzed in your ear like a vicious drill sergeant. “Move it! Do you wanna die?! Well fucking move!” 
You can hear their boots in the mud, the advancing Al-Qatala mercenaries chasing after you and shooting blindly at your heels, competing with the distance and dense foliage. You’re like an injured fox, feverish bloodhounds nipping at the end of your tail— what could they do with an SAS hostage? How much leverage would it buy? 
Bullets whistle by your feet, the proximity of some enough to set your hair on end. They’re closing in, jowls dripping with slobber as they attempt to close their teeth around you. Just a little mor—
Crack. 
Chaos erupts behind you, the thump of a body and a flurry of shouts. Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages, Urzik and Persian. You scramble for cover behind a treetrunk, the bark cutting at your palms as you brace for incoming fire. 
"Kilgore!" Someone shouts, and your blood runs cold, eyes wide as they dart around the foliage for the legendary soldier. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping Al-Qatala mercenaries into the mud beneath them. You hear the yelled orders, Urzik fighters urged to retreat.
You're unsure if one fails to hear the directive over the din of warfare, but you hear the advancing feet of the mercenary advancing on your position—the squelch of the mud beneath the rubber sole of his combat boots. You scramble with your weapon, checking the gun's safety and readying for a one-shot shoot-out. 
When a bullet shreds through a victim's head, the sound is reminiscent of a watermelon being cracked open. It's a sickening crunch. A wet spray of warm blood cuts through the downpour of rain, splattering across your face. Some of it is solid, brain matter and shards of cranium. 
It's not silent by any means. The rain continues to beat against the floor, pattering in the puddles that had formed in sole-shaped prints in the soaked earth. Cracks of thunder sound in the distance, and the droplets drum against the leaves in the forest's canopy. However, the sounds of the firefight cease. 
"You can come out," a voice calls to you. Accented; Germanic. You hesitate for a moment, once again strengthening your grip on the gun you'd clung to. Your lungs strain with the sudden intake of breath, ribs crushed beneath your tac-vest. "Ghost sent me." 
Easing your head out from behind the tree trunk, you marvel, somewhat horrified, at the gigantic, hulking build of the man who stood in the clearing. Fallen enemy combatants surround him, a blanket of corpses draped across the turbid forest floor. A black veil covers his face, and his equipment litters his tac-vest. 
You'd be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight. Instead, fear lurches in the pit of your stomach, and you freeze in place. It's only when your eyes catch the crystal white slicing through crimson on the patch sewn into his shoulder that the airy voice, which certainly doesn't match his enormous frame, brings you a sense of safety. 
"The safe house is ahead. We could get you warm–– clean you up?"
                            ✰
Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in the warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you're soaked, the damp clinging to the threads of your clothes. The scent of iron still assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood from your face. 
Kilgore, who informed you upon entering the safehouse preferred to be called by his name König, had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room. He looked ridiculous like this, attempting to compact his body into the crevice. You don't doubt it's an attempt to ease the nervous energy bleeding through your pores, your hands trembling as you attempt to dip the rag he had gifted you into the hot water. 
"Did..." You swallow thickly, glancing up at the Austrian, "Did you tell the Lieutenant where we are?" 
"Mhm-hm," he nods slowly, his jade eyes watching you from beneath the face veil. They're sharp and bright, contrasting so strongly against his uniform's muted and inky shades. "He's planning evac." 
You scrub the gore from your face, wincing as you feel the shards of bone scrape across your face. König's eyes bore into you from the other side of the room, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime the rain had failed to wash away. 
"I've-... Heard a lot about you," you speak to him, attempting to cross the vast space he had consciously put between you. His green eyes gaze at you, unblinking as he watches your expression. König is trying to read you, trying to comprehend how you feel. He's cautious, trying not to push you outside of your comfort zone. 
"About Berlin?" He asks, and his voice is so soft that it reminds you of a child attempting to speak after being reprimanded by their parents–– wary of a second bout of raised voices. 
"Yes," you mumble, dipping the crimson rag into the water before laying it across your skin again, "About Berlin." 
König hums softly, casting his eyes to the aged, wooden floorboards. The woodlice have chewed through them, moss growing in some parts. You can see he appears uncomfortable, his knuckles white from the fists that form in his lap. 
"I didn't mean to scare anyone," König admits in a whisper, catching you off guard. His shoulders sag slightly, and you see him pick at loose threads in the knees of his camo trousers. 
"N-No... I meant to say how courageous it was," you point out, watching his fidgeting hands still suddenly, "You risked your life for those hostages... saved them singlehandedly. No one else would have done that." 
Hesitant silence settles between you both, König considering your words carefully as he stares at his lap. You can't see his face, the veil concealing all but his eyes, though you're almost sure he's stunned by your comment. It takes him a moment to discern his next step, but he finally lifts his body from the wooden chair he'd pulled into the corner. It creaks with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space towards you. 
"You also saved me," you point out, watching him kneel before you, "Faced a whole cell..."
König steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn't speak at; first, silence hanging between you once again as he dips the cloth into the water. Then, he soaks it until it drips, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint colour and standing out against his pale skin. 
"Ghost asked me to," he mumbles, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. He gives you time to pull away–– you don't. 
"You could have ignored him," you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. He still towers over you, even balanced on his knees, head and shoulders slumped over you. You can see the ocean green of his eyes clearly, the halo of brown flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and oddly feminine. 
The pressure of the cloth against your skull is so delicate. König appears to be afraid of hurting you, gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline. He shakes his head gently, considering your kind words. "What kind of man would I be, Leibchen?" his voice is airy, tone flimsy.
Those stunning eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching for your answer. Instead, all you manage is a weak shrug. 
"Were... Are they afraid of you?" You whisper to him, struggling to find the words to broach a topic that appears to affect König so profoundly. It's his turn to answer wordlessly, offering an equally frail nod. 
König takes your chin ever so gently in his hand, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turns your head in search of further blood-spatter. He sweeps the makeshift face-cloth over your skin, focusing on removing the grime altogether. 
You'd heard the cruel rumours, the whispers of 'monster' and 'freak'. This König you'd met couldn't possibly be the same they uttered about maliciously. He held a child-like kindness, the brutality of the job seemingly doing little to chip away at his humanity. The same couldn't be said about the others. 
"König," you whisper his name softly, watching as he continues to focus on clearing up your skin. His soothing touch smoothes across your temple now, removing some mud speckles. "Don't listen to them."
You can see his eyes soften, once again turning to yours as you reach to fiddle with the edge of his veil. Upon tracing the border between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, you find that it's t-shirt material, the zigzag seam stitching rough against your touch like barbed wire. "They haven't seen you like I have." 
Those eyes gleam with amusement, little crows-feet creases forming in the corners. He's smiling, and your heart stutters against your chest. 
"That right, Leibchen? I've had a mask on this whole time."
The gentle teasing lilt to his tone makes you lightheaded, urging you forward with your frankly ridiculous plan. You begin to lift the edge of his veil upwards. You take it slowly, his pupils dancing across the bare skin of your face as you reveal the point of his chin. His skin is equally as pale there, barely exposed to sunlight.
König doesn't stop you as you continue to lift the fabric from his face, exposing the curve of his lower lip. The skin there is soft and plush, little creases in the flesh making your heart thud awkwardly against your ribs. Finally, you stop at his cupid's bow, so soft and subtle it's barely there at all. 
You can feel his gaze warming your skin as you trace his lips with your eyes. Hesitation holds you still, uncertain about the final step of this stupid plan. König, as ever, doesn't push you. Doesn't even breathe. When you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing his own that still lay beneath the cloth, you hear a sharp yet gentle inhalation. It triggers goosebumps across your forearms, butterflies battering the pit of your stomach. 
Soft. His lips are so soft when you mould your own to their shape. König's veil tickles the skin of your face when you kiss him, and you feel his gigantic hands settle on either side of your neck as he begins to return your affections. They swallow you, and your pulse leaps against his palm. 
König smiles, and the kiss turns toothy and a little lopsided. You can't help but giggle nervously, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he presses gentle pecks to the edge of your mouth. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, each action is deliberate and soft. 
"... Are your clothes still wet, Schatz?" He's breathless despite his seemingly put-together appearance, his nose bumping yours as he interrupts your answer for another fragile kiss. "We could get you out of them." 
                            ✰
Your standard-issue military t-shirt slips and falls from the cot's mattress as König gently pulls your hips towards the edge. His fingerprints have already bruised into your thighs despite his attempts to be gentle. When he'd begun to panic, you told him not to worry–– he'd already bruised up your neck with his teeth and lips; what was a couple more?
Butterflying your legs out for him, König groans softly as you expose your glistening cunt for him. You're shy, covering your face with your hands as his fingers massage the soft, malleable flesh of the inside of your thighs. 
"Schatz," he whispers, and you peer through the gaps of your fingers. König gazes down between your legs, green eyes gleaming as he positions his cock between your folds. "So beautiful." 
It's ridiculous, you think, staring down between your legs. König is huge in every sense, the shaft of his cock thick and veiny and drowning out the seam of your sex as König shifts his hips forward to swipe the length of him across your weeping cunt. You can't help your mind running away with itself–– surely he needed a weapons license to carry that thing-?
A weak chuckle sounds above you, and you crane your neck to catch his eye. "I will take it slow, Schatz, I promise you."
You believe him. He had been so delicate with you this whole time, laying you down gently on the bed, careful when removing your gear and your clothes not to let the material snag on your nose or chin. 
König's hand disappears beneath the face veil, spitting into his palm before he smoothes it over the head of his cock. He groans, eyelids fluttering beneath the mask as he drags his hand over the length. It's a pretty sight, you think, such a colossal man shuddering in bliss. When he sweeps his cock through your folds again, he carefully taps the tip of his dick against your clit to illicit a whimper. 
"Mhmm, gentle. I promise you," he repeats, inching the tip of his cock down until it settles at your entrance. The soles of your feet find purchase on König's hips, and he massages your calves gently as he begins to inch into you at your nod of approval. 
Oh, Christ. 
König stretches you the moment he sinks inside. There's a delicious burn, one that has you lifting your hips with a whimper as you equally try to escape and dive into it. He's wheezing, eyes glued to where your bodies meet as he watches you flutter around his size. 
"Ha-So tight, Schatz," he groans loudly, stopping when you firmly grip the bedsheets. He notes your expression of slight pain, the tears welling in your eyes as your body attempts to accommodate the intrusion. König seemingly can't help the flurry of apologies that fall from his mouth as he leans over you, settling his thumb against your clit in an attempt to ease you open. "Here. I want you to feel good, Engel." 
The tremors in your thighs rattle against his hips as he circles your clit slowly. It's blissful, the sticky, warm arousal that blooms through your abdomen as he teases at the sensitive nerves. You arch your back against the mattress, moaning out his name breathlessly as he continues to inch his cock further into you. You barely notice when he finally settles the rest of him inside, wailing softly when it twitches and knocks something earthshattering inside you. 
"O-Oh fuck––" you choke on your curse when König shifts his hips forward, jutting into your cervix and winding you suddenly. You probably look ridiculous, eyes rolling back into your skull as you claw at the vast expanse of his chest. You drag pink lines down the pale skin, drawing blood to the surface, but it does little to phase König this far along.  
"Good, Liebling?" He murmurs, continuing to assault your clit. You can barely form a coherent sentence in response, drooling around a string of 'yes, yes, yes'. It's all he needs to find comfort in advancing, easing the length of him out of your weeping cunt before driving it back in at an achingly slow pace. 
You want to slam your fist against his pectorals and insist he go faster, but you're not sure you're ready for it when he slides into you balls deep. It's as though he's settling among your lungs, filling you so good that you're seeing static in your line of vision. 
The sound of a desperate groan from above barely brings you back down to earth, noting how he's staring at your face. His pupils are blown wide, almost devouring the green of his irises. It takes you a moment to realise you're drooling, his slow and steady pace already pushing you to a mindless edge. 
"Oh-" you moan, digging your nails into his abs. They ripple beneath your touch with each deliberate thrust, and König hisses at the sharp sting and the crescent moon indents they leave behind. "F-Fuck, König- Too much-!"
"It's too much?" He wheezes, eyes searching your face. You desperately shake your head, terrified he'll pull away from you despite the inching arousal building at the base of your spine. Wrapping your legs around his hips, your heels press into the small of his back and hook him in place despite your protests. 
It sparks something feral in the hulking man, his hips surging forwards and jolting you up the mattress. Your breath escapes you in a squeak, arousal soaring and buzzing thickly in your abdomen as König mumbles in German, his soft voice coming out all gritty under the strain of his exertions and bliss. 
"Mhmmm- fuck-" you babble, eyes rolling again as you lift your hips to meet his. He sinks impossibly deeper, and your breath stutters as you feel the telltale tug of your orgasm. "Oh God- König, I'm-"
"Tell me," König whispers, rutting up inside you. He doesn't bother to inch out of you now, repeatedly battering so deep inside you that you struggle to inhale as your orgasm approaches fast. 
"Hngngg- hah-ah- I'mgonna- c-cum-" you choke with each sudden thrust, his thumb quickening its pace against your arcing clit. Perhaps he shifts his hips slightly or reaches even deeper than before, but he brushes against something utterly debilitating, and you cum with a loud shriek of his name. 
It bursts through you with blistering heat, your fingernails sinking deep into the curves of his bicep as you brace against the waves of bliss that crash over you. König keeps fucking into you, your walls squeezing tight around him as his thumb persists in its assault on your throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face, and König can't hold on much longer as you strangle his cock. 
"Hah-Shit-" he slurs, his voice barely reaching your ears as he buries himself as deep as you can take him. He cums with a haggard moan, body trembling as his cock spurts inside of you. There's so much of it, too, leaking out of you before he even manages to move. 
Both of you take a moment, both stunned by the overwhelming ecstasy. König doesn't bother withdrawing from your heat as he slumps beside you, turning you on your side to face him. He offers no words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. 
Your chest heaves as you suck in oxygen, skin prickling with heat as König encases you in his massive arms. You don't need the sheets, his body-heat burning hot beside you as you press your skin to his.
No words need to be said, you think. König had offered his feelings in the form of his reverent touches and delivered his thanks for your kindness in the delicate kisses he'd pressed to your lips as he carried you into the bedroom. 
As you lay in the dark, settled into König's side, you trace your fingers over the curved scars, the bulletholes that have healed over against his ribs. They rise and fall beneath your touch, lungs expanding and deflating with each breath. It's a sobering moment, the thrumming of his pulse against your palm reminding you of his humanity despite the whispers at the base that had insisted upon his bestiality. 
You realise those who speak cruelly of him and ruin his self-worth don't understand their impact. To them, he's a cryptid–– his very existence called into question. They hadn't seen him with their own eyes, only heard the mind-boggling tales of his startlingly impressive missions and monstrous size. 
They hadn't felt his heart, the way it fluttered against your touch when you'd offered compliments. Hadn't experienced the soft plush of his lips pressing into your own in heartbreakingly sweet kisses. He was no monster. 
And when Lieutenant Riley came for you the following day, choosing to ignore the marks left on your skin and the way you hesitated before climbing into the helicopter to offer the Austrian a gentle wave and a promise that you would return, you began the mission to rewrite his story. To change hearts and minds.  
It didn't take long at all.
"Did you hear about Kilgore?"
"I did! He saved a member of 141. Incredibly brave–– I heard the situation was dire."
"She spoke very highly of him. Said we could count on him."
"I certainly wouldn't mind fighting alongside someone so dependable and courageous." 
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Y/N : I’m so hot. *standing in front of electric fan*
König : Yes you— I mean— yeah. Yeah its- its hot in here.
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blingblong55 · 9 months
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The Mess we made - Colonel König nsfw
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This is based on a request:
May I humbly request your writing talent and creativity of a dirty, nasty, hardcore smut you can come up with based on colonel König x reader, please? His back scratched, reader’s in deep with pleasure
F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI ಠ_ಠ, p-in-v, solidier!Reader, sexual! relationship, unprotected sex
There was something about the way that you looked in your uniform that had your CO touching himself at night. The way that your shirt would get tighter around your chest area, how your curves looked like when you sparred with a few of your teammates and how you looked like, at least in his imagination, on top of him.
Lately, you have been giving your attention to some new recruit, he was actually quite kind and funny. König didn't like how you looked beside that man. So, the only way he could ensure others would know you were busy, with him, was by making you train for hours on end. At times, he'd wake you up earlier, knocking on your door and using his best drill sgt. voice.
Today one of the other COs ordered you to train with the recruit, said he was lacking in hand to hand combat, and since everyone on base knew König was enhancing your skills lately, they figured you'd be best option.
You and the newbie were in the sparring room, both exhausted but laughing. "I swear you'll leave me aching for days, dude." a small chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to throw ya into the mat like that."
Once you both finished that small break, you continued to spar, teaching him new moves and giving a few examples along the way. His hand on your waist as he was now learning a new move to bring someone down, your eyes locking as you spoke. "Once your hands find the enemies side, you'll have to-"
"Hands off her!" König spoke as he approached you both, "Sergeant, in my office, now." you and the newbie both pulled from the other, you with a confused look just obey his order. König stayed behind, giving the newbie a newer move. Definitely not using this as the perfect excuse to let his anger out of the poor man.
You sat on one of the chairs in his office, toying with the hem of your shirt. You hear some whistling, König, based on the rhythm. He walked in, closing the door behind him, he stood by the window, looking out, "That man doesn't know how to fight, much."
"That's why I was teaching him, sir." You try to at least, in some way, defend the poor newbie. Anytime he wanted to have you, he would, but that was usually in the comfort of either of your rooms. Hence to why you were calling him 'sir'. "I never told you to teach him," he turns to you, closing the blinds, "Why don't you ever listen to me, schatz?" he asked you, he sat on the chair next to yours, towering over you. His voice more softer now, unlike back in the mats, low and gentler with how he delivered his words.
"What do you mean, sir?"
He has never spoke to you, not in this tone. "Why can't I never have you, for myself?" a hand on touching your chin, him and you making eye contact, "Uhm, sir-" you weren't sure why he was doing this, especially here. When you two established this 'relationship', you two agreed to only have the other do what they'd please behind closed quarters.
"Don't talk, little one, just listen."
You nod, not knowing what else to do. Part of you was into this, the other part of you was scared. There were times when he would do something that would have you weak at the knees. How his arms in that muscle shirt would be flexed after lifting some ammo boxes, or when he would workout, how he would lift so effortlessly.
"That's my girl, always obeying me," a hand snaked to the back of your neck, the other still on your chin, "Now, you follow as I say, ja?"
You nod, willing to do whatever he says at this point. "Good, start to take that ugly jacket off," he stands back up, finally going to sit on his chair. You removed the army jacket, staring at him, not knowing what to do next. "Hm, seems to me you must remove the rest, can't have you like this." he leaned back in his chair, smirking under that mask. "But sir-"
He shook his head, "tsk tsk, I don't want excuses, take it off." As he watched you hesitate, he went up to you, hand on your shoulder, "You want to make me happy, don't you?" You nod, his hand at the button of your trousers, slowly, he unbuttoned them, he then removed your belt. His hand digging into your trousers, the other hand on your thigh, "Hm, seems to me I need to see you, all of you, so stand up for me," he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and making you stand up, "now take it off and don't test my patience." he commanded.
You soon stripped from your close, he couldn't take this view, especially not when he knew that stupid newbie had his hands on what König calls his. "Bend over my desk, c'mon, do it." now he was definitely desperate to have a taste of you. You bend over, his hand rubs your bare ass, the other hand snakes to the front of your panties. Warm hand toying with your wet slick.
"So needy, hm" the other hand still rubbing your ass. Lips on your neck, licking, biting and sucking the soft skin. "König not here, please." you begged, because what if someone walked in or what if someone heard your moans.
"Thats the fun part, schatz" he whispers against your ear, nibbling at it. He wanted it to be final, for everyone to hear you call out of his name. Hear the pathetic cries you let out as he made you his. Hips thrusting in you, for everyone to hear but not see. Not yet at least.
He lowered you panties to your ankles, spit on his mouth and rubbed his fingers against the entrance of your aching entrance. "Hm," he looked at the old hickeys he had left on your back just days ago, "seems you're due for more." He lowered his trousers, played with himself as he watched how you would desperately look back. Eyes looking from the door to him. Drove him crazy knowing you two could get caught, but that was the fun of it, wanted to experience it so others would know about you and him.
Your body did him wonders, made him play with himself when you weren't around and at meetings when you would sit across from him, looking up at the board with those sweet innocent eyes of you. The same look he wanted to corrupt, make it change just for him. He didn't, like how you were so innocent, how you knew so little but did so much.
He parted your legs and without any foreplay or warning, he slid his now aching self in you. He knew his size was big, that you could only take so much. But today he wasn't playing nice, not when his favourite toy let another man touch her. Although the touches the newbie and you had were innocent, he didn't like them one bit. Now, here you were, taking him all of him.
You were so small compared to him so taking him like this was hard, yet it felt so...right and good. He started to thrust in slow, opening you for him. Hands on your hips, you still bent on the desk, your hands gripping the edges of his desk. Small moans could be heard coming from you as you tried to not make much noise.
"Louder, I want them to hear you." He definitely wanted to make a show out of you, humiliate you as he took you, knowing the other hungry men would be outside his door, listening as you took every part of him. He forced your mouth open, hand on your mouth as the other still guided your hips.
Your ass becoming red as his thrusts go harder and faster. He fucked the anger and frustration on you. Degraded every second he spends in you. "Such a fuckin' slut for me," another few slaps on your now raw ass, "what a slut you are, taking me like this. I bet you like it." He dragged another moan from you, this time louder, just like he wanted it to be. His accent coming off more stronger by each thrust. Once he knew you'd be willing to keep moaning loud for him, his hand slides to your wet cunt. His thick fingers start to toy with you, "I bet you like being treated like a whore." You couldn't respond, your brain in mush as waves of pleasure started to create through your body.
He slammed his hips on your ass, his cock deep in you, he leaned in, biting your back and shoulder. His moans and yours echoing around the room. He knew he was close and he didn't mind if you were or not. Today, his needs were above your own.
He pulled out, pre-cum dripping from you and him. He sits on his desk chair, removing his shirt, knowing this view would be your only reward. A finger motioning for you to sit on him, he wanted to see those tits of yours bounce as he came in you. You, like his toy obeyed. He lets you guide his throbbing cock inside, once your hands met it, you slide it in. Causing more moans to leave your sweet lips. More for the men outside of the door to hear.
You start to ride him, his lips meet your hardened nipples. He bites and licks them. Your moans of pleasure and pain, causing him to feel himself get closer. Your hands on his back, gently holding yourself as you ride him. "König, t-this is....too much" you could feel yourself get more and more sensitive.
But since today, he wanted to please himself and not you, he didn't care. Instead, his hands on your hips, making you go faster, he slapped your ass every now and then. Causing more moans and cries to come out. Your nails digging deeper into his bare back. You started to leave red marks across it. This only fed his needs more. "Look at you," he said as he pulled back, eyes staring into your, mascara running down as it mixed with your sweat, "takin' me so good." The praises finally began.
He knew he was getting closer, so he thrusted faster in you. Your inner thighs would for sure be sore by tomorrow. He leans in, lips on your shoulder as he slowly licked it. Hands still on your hips, at times they be on your ass, spreading your ass so he could feel himself finally fit inside your tight cunt.
Thrusts becoming more sloppy, pre-cum on your and his thighs. He bites into your shoulder, moaning and whimpering can be heard. Your nails leaving more red trails across his back.
His hips bucking as he started to cum inside of you. Filling your walls with his white seed. "Oh schatz, the things you do to me." he let out a small moan. He cups your face, your brows furrowed, tears running down as he wipes them away. "Look at you, such a mess," his voice now more soft, letting his cum drip from in you to your thighs, "you know I don't allow you to look like such mess." He kisses your forehead, he leans and grabs a napkin from his desk, he gently wipes your now dry mascara tears from you. "You did well, liebling." he kissed your cheek and then leaves continuous kisses on your lips.
He moves the hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. He hugs you, his head on your now bare breasts. "Such a good girl." he whispers, a hand on your back as the other holds your ass, rubbing it slowly, as if he was now caring for it, unlike a few minutes ago.
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A/N: I hope this was smutty enough. If it wasn't not to worry, I have like 6 other smut requests to write.
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sprout-fics · 2 months
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The Hunt
König x 'Maus' F!Reader
(Part 13 of 'Little Mouse')
Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Mature Tags: Stealth missions, Banter, Cat and Mouse, Hypothermia, Sharing body heat, Cuddling, Snuggling, Angst Warnings: None A/N: Thank you for staying with the series despite the break!
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You're starting to think you might die out here.
It's been hours since you three dropped into the Kazakhstan mountains, just narrowly avoiding an incoming snowstorm that has since painted the steep mountains white. The air is thick with the blank, icy taste of snow, and you struggle to catch Soap and Ghost in their snowgear as they ascend up the cliff to the remote radio tower station that is the source of your intel. They're strong, clambering up the slope one at a time while the other watches their six. You supervise them from afar, perched on a cliff opposite of the valley, trying to catch sight of them despite the curtain of white that falls between you. 
Laswell was the one to point you here, as she usually does. The station chief has been combing through intelligence for months, searching for breadcrumbs on Makarov. The man is a ghost in the wind, vanished from prison and now hiding secretly as he plots his next move. He could be anywhere in the world. Your hunt for him had been delayed by your tangle with KorTac, but now even they seem to have vanished into the breeze with nary a trace.
You adjust your scope, zooming in on the sight of Soap and Ghost perching on a cliff edge, shoulders heaving with exertion. You smirk under your snow mask and sweep your sights further up the slope towards the target they are ascending towards. 
The tower itself is unassuming, a lone and decrepit thing in the middle of nowhere. Yet all it had taken was a single errant ping from a satellite to realize the traffic out of this seemingly normal outpost was far larger than originally thought. It could be nothing, it could be everything, but one thing remains clear, and it's the message Laswell managed to pull and decipher from a single static transmission, letters spelled out in Russian.
KorTac.
It's the first lead you've had in over a month. The mercenary group had seemingly gone underground following your raid on their satellite base. By the time Laswell had managed to pull an order to survey the site via drone footage, there was nothing left. The entire place had been burnt to the ground, devastated, nothing but ashes to comb through in search of answers. Since then the group had vanished, gone in the wind. Not defeated, but biding their time, waiting in the dark and drawing plans that would eventually come to full fruition. 
"Bravo 09, this is Bravo 07, how copy?"
You barely catch a glimpse of Ghost as he raises a hand to his headset. The transmission is tinted with static due to the snowstorm, but you can still make out the low, hushed accent of  the older man's voice as he checks in.
"Got you in my scope, 07." You report back, mouth moving behind your snowmask, wet with condensation. You shiver, feeling half an inch of snow on your back, not moving from your sniper position, ready to wait here hours more if need be. You hope for the sake of your fingers and toes it doesn't come to that.
"It's cold as balls out here, LT." You grouse in addition, and you see Soap's head tilt towards Ghost as he regards his partner.
"My balls are cold." Johnny agrees irritably, but there's a touch of playfulness there that hasn't been dampened by the snow.
“Feeling a little shriveled, Johnny?” You snark crudely, and hear the Scot make an indignant little scoff in return.
"Focus, both of you." Ghost snaps, to which you both silence yourselves with a snicker. "We're almost at the perimeter. We'll be going radio dark after that."
"Copy." You reply, adjusting your scope with numbing fingers to focus on the steel fence that surrounds the radio tower and the adjoining building. "Good hunting, you two."
Neither Soap or Ghost reply, focusing instead on climbing the last few ledges on the opposite side of the mountain. You watch as they take a break at the top, crouched near the edge. Eventually you hear Ghost’s voice filter over the comms. 
“Break’s over, Johnny.”  Ghost declares, and stands, offering him a hand and hauling Soap up so they advance forward along the slippery, snow laden cliffside. An incoming wall of white obscures your view of them as they round the edge towards the fence, and you hear one last garbled transmission from Ghost before they vanish.
It’s silent after that, with nothing but the wind howling in your ears and prickling under your skin. Even with your thick, downy parka there’s little respite from the bone biting chill that seeps into your veins. Perched in place as you are on overwatch, you know there’s no moving until your two comrades find their way out to you once more. 
So you huddle in, ignoring the chatter of your teeth and trying to steady your hands on the rifle, hoping and praying that the chamber doesn’t freeze, and that you won’t need to use it. The cold grips tight to your veins, and you try to imagine the lulling warmth of a campfire that you can’t afford. 
Hurry back. You think towards your two comrades. Before I fucking freeze to death.
There’s a tinny sort of whine in your radio, and you shift to adjust so the transmission comes through.
"Bravo team, this is Watcher-01, do you read me?" Laswell's voice comes in, tinny and crackling but still recognizable.
You blink, brow knotting. Laswell had signed off shortly before your parachute jump into the mountains. Whatever has caused her to reach out like this must be urgent. Maybe the tower is a bust, and she's decided to pull you from the mission. 
Ghost and Soap don't respond, and you think they might have already switched off their radios. So instead, after a pause, you respond in their stead. 
"This is Bravo 09, send traffic Watcher."
There's a pause before Laswell responds. "Bravo 09, advise all stations we may have KorTac operatives in the field."
You suck in a breath, feel cold air seize your lungs and descend into your veins with icy realization. If KorTac is here, then that means this tower is much more important than originally thought. You haven't run into any members of KorTac since Price's rescue, which means...
He could be here.
You store the thought as quickly as it came, trying to find Soap and Ghost against the rocky outcrop, only to come up empty handed. 
"Copy, Watcher. Ghost and Soap have gone radio silent." You report with a little grunt of frustration, knowing the two of them have already made their way inside. It could be too late, they might have found out the hard way just what waits for them. “They’ve likely breached the perimeter.”
"Then keep an eye out, Rookie, we need to-"
You blink as static garbles Laswell's next words, swallowing them with a crackle that fades to a high pitched whine.
"Watcher, repeat." You try, leaning a hand up to your headset to try and regain the signal.
Static.
"Laswell?"
Silence.
The storm must have knocked out the signal, which does not bode well for your mission. You try once more to raise Soap and Ghost, to no avail. You breathe in and quell the uncertain flutter of your heartbeat, feeling a familiar sense of knowing dread thrum low through your chest. The extrasensory insight you rely on to discern the state of the world around you hums with warning, does little to ease the low roll of your stomach. 
It's fine, you tell yourself. Soap and Ghost have handled far worse than this. You weren't there for Las Almas, having joined the team only after, but you heard the story from Johnny. Barely armed, pursued, injured, out of supplies and ammo, and yet somehow they had survived. This, with them well armed and in pursuit, should be no challenge. 
It takes a few minutes to repeat this to yourself, but it does nothing to relax the anxious, knowing pulse of sixth sense that hovers in the back of your mind. 
When the radio crackles again you nearly jump, muttering a transmission before anything can come through. 
"Laswell, do you copy?"
Static. 
Then, a different voice. 
"Hello, Maus."
If you were cold before, the voice that filters through your radio sends you hurtling into hypothermia, jolting at the familiar, purring intonation of the man who has long since pursued you.
“König.” You breathe, unable to contain the shocked breathlessness from your voice.
“Long time no see, as they say.” He murmurs, and you can hear the low, sultry delight of his voice at your response. You should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have spoken, switched to another channel to get a hold of Laswell, tried to reach Soap and Ghost to tell them to retreat. 
“What are you doing here?” You hiss instead, gritting your chattering teeth. 
“I could ask you the same thing. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, fraulein?”
You don’t respond to that, too busy trying to ignore the way the KorTac operative’s voice itches pleasantly under your skin. It’s a vain betrayal, and you internally chastise yourself for remembering the darkness of the supply closet that accompanied your last rendezvous, the soft, yearning words between you. You’ve tried to lock away the memory of it, the way his voice rumbled softly down at you with a traitorous promise that you know will mean the end of you both.
"I might try and kill you again." You breathe, voice wavering as you desperately try to reign in the wickedness of your heart. "I can't promise you I won't succeed."
"You won't." He tells you, and his voice is resolute. There is no uncertainty, no hidden conviction in the utter confidence of which he speaks. "You can try, Maus. You won't be able to."
"And if I don't?”
König blinks at you, eyes fluttering shut for all of a moment before he speaks.
"Then we'll be here again." He murmurs, and you want to shudder at the sudden softness of his voice, allowing that forbidden thing inside you to stretch forward into him. "Again and again, Maus. Over and over until one of us surrenders." 
You’ve tried to forget in his absence, shutting out the way you’d closed your eyes when he had tried to kiss you, vainly attempting to replace it with the knowledge that he’s tried to kill your friends, that he was responsible for Price’s capture, for your capture so long ago. In the weeks he’s been gone you’ve curled silently into your bunk, trying to convince yourself how wrong, how selfish you are for allowing yourself to harbor feelings for him. 
Now, when he’s here, now that his voice purrs into your radio with that beloved endearment, Maus, you find your steadfast resistance crumbling down around you like snow shifting on the mountains- preceding an avalanche. 
“I missed you, Maus.”
It sounds almost like a whine, a needy thing that would be pouting if there wasn’t an undertone of secret, gleeful intent beneath.
Don’t. You remind yourself, body scrunching tight as you try to control your breathing so he doesn’t hear your shuddering exhale. 
“Where are your friends?” You ask instead, voice even, flat.
He’s silent then, and you swear the absence of his words speaks of disappointment.
“That’s not how this works, Maus.” He replies, voice betraying his discontent.
You snort. “Tell me then, how does this work?”
There’s a strange crackling sound over the radio, and if you listen closely you can hear him chuckle.
“It works. Just with you and me.”
You let out a freezing breath at that, and you know it crackles over the comms towards him. You’re silent, but it’s different now as you begin to ease from your original surprise. Against your better judgment, you allow yourself to be soothed by the gentle tenor of his voice, allow yourself to remember what it felt like to nearly be kissed by him. The phantom touch of his knuckles under your chin, tipping you up towards him ghosts across your skin with a wicked, traitorous temptation. 
“What are you doing out here, Maus?” König asks, and it's more like a sigh, a reminiscent thing that seems to recall your previous wayward parting. 
“Recon.” You tell him flatly, refusing to divulge any more details lest it compromise your mission. 
“Alone?”
You think of Soap and Ghost struggling up the cliff side, vanishing in a cloud of white towards the perimeter of the radio tower. He can’t be allowed to know they’re here. God only knows what may happen to them, to him if they find each other.
“Yes.” You breathe, but your hesitation betrays your lie for what it is.
König hums in consideration, and you know him well enough by now to know the narrowing of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he weighs your words. 
“I think you’re lying, Maus.” He intones, and you stiffen at that, at the small whisper of threat that lingers in his voice- the sound of a man born and bred to kill, to hunt and maim. 
You, in your naive fantasies, forgot he too was a hunter. 
“I think your friends are here.” He goes on, voice low with danger, and you feel your muscles go taut, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. “Should I go say hello?”
“I’m alone.” You tell him again, but your voice is a thin, desperate thing, caught tight in your chest. 
König chuckles, as if he finds your rising panic amusing.
“A joke, Maus.” He explains, and it does little to relieve you, not with the way it failed to sound like anything other than a threat.
“But...” He continues, his voice hanging between you like suspended frost. “I guess if you are alone, you wouldn’t mind company, mm?”
You close your eyes, scrunching them shut at the way your heart clenches with an excitement you shouldn’t feel. The idea of his touch on you again is both exhilarating and terrifying- like drinking poison just because you love the taste. He’s a venom that slips into your veins, purrs under your skin and warms you through even as you burn from the inside out.
The logical part of you knows to refuse him. Yet there’s also a chance that if he remains where he is, he has a very good chance of bumping into Ghost and Soap, which is the absolute last thing you need right now- for the mission, and for yourself. You need to draw him from the tower, away from the others.
“You’re welcome to.” You purr back, refusing to show your wavering voice. “That is...if you can find me.”
He pauses at that, and you wonder if he expected you to refuse him and instead pleasantly surprised. 
“A game?” He asks, and you hear the rising excitement in his voice, like a predator who has caught the scent of something delicious. “And my prize?”
You huff at that, oddly endeared by his sadistic sort of playfulness. “I suppose you’ll have to find out, König.” You reply, voice low with promise.
“You’re a vexing woman, Maus.”
Thank God Laswell can’t hear this.
“Try and find me if you can.” You goad, narrowing your scope on the fence perimeter where Ghost and Soap have yet to emerge. “Good luck.”
“Oh I won’t need luck.” He purrs, and you shiver.
“Then I’ll see you soon.” You reply, and switch the channel on your radio off. 
Silence follows, and you release a deep, slow exhale to steady yourself. The snow muffles all sound, even the thump of your heartbeat as it beats unevenly against your tender ribs. You try to tame the excitement that hums inside you, forcing yourself into stillness until the cold embraces you again.
It’s unlikely he’ll be able to find you, buried as you are. You’ve allowed snow to accumulate on your back and legs, slowly engulfing your pale snow gear in a further camouflage. You’ve been here for well over an hour, and can stay much longer than that if you need. Not moving, barely breathing. Still and silent in the way snipers are, waiting for your chance to pull the trigger.
There’s a part of you that hopes he finds you, somehow. It’s a selfish, dangerous thing, fed by the excitement of hearing from him for the first time in weeks, scratching the itch you’ve desperately been trying to bury inside yourself. It’s the thing you’ve felt for a while now, a secret desire that betrays all the values and loyalty you hold dear to.
The desire to be caught.
You scrub a snow laden hand across your face, hoping somehow the frost will clear your mind of traitorous thoughts. You need to focus on the mission- ensuring that Soap and Ghost make it to the extraction point without anyone tailing or firing after them. You drew König out not because you wanted to see him, but because you were trying to protect your teammates from an enemy operative. That’s all this is. No wayward, illicit romance, no purring over the comms and suggestive flirtations, and certainly no memories of staring up at your enemy in a dark room and hoping he would find the courage to kiss you.
For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself.
You push the image away as far as you can, and train your scope once more on the ice laden cliff across the narrow valley.
It’s quiet in the minutes that follow, and you feel the heavily falling snow continue to pack along your spine. You try to contain your chattering teeth and shivering hands, noting with irritation the undue wobble of your scope as you sweep your sights across the landscape-
What?
A shape, there and gone in a mere moment, vanishing along the narrow path off to your right in a cloud of white. You’re certain you saw something, but when you train your sights, there’s nothing there.
Maybe...
You should move to a better position.
It might be a good idea. The motion would heat up your trembling, frigid limbs, and the snow would hopefully cover any tracks you leave behind. Yet there’s risks of doing so. The second you move, even with your snow camouflage, there’s a risk of being spotted by the operative hunting you through the snow.
You purse your chapped, cold lips under your snow mask, and weigh your options.
-and that’s when you hear the sound behind you.
You flip over quickly, reaching for your side arm, but the weapon is buried against your side in the snow, and as you fumble for it a huge, towering figure lurches into view.
“Found you, Maus.” König rumbles as he steps from behind a tree, and before you can bite a reply, try to raise your silenced pistol, you freeze.
“What-” You manage, a little forced, blinking. “What are you wearing?”
König pauses mid-step as he stalks towards you, eyes wide under his hood. Your question catches him off guard, and he glances down at himself in confusion. His hood, normally a dark, ominous black, is now a strangely, ghostly gray that matches his long, snow-white layers and tan tac vest. Black boots and thick gloves are tugged over his pants and sleeves, but his helmet remains the same.
“...You don’t like it?” He asks, and you laugh out of pure disbelief.
“I-” You try, side arm now forgotten. “Yes?”
You shake yourself, and reach once more for your weapon.
“Ah-” König tuts, quickly moving forward too fast and gently placing a boot over your arm. “Please don’t, Maus.”
You frown at him, try and wiggle your arm, only for him to increase the weight on it. “Asshole.” You seethe, and König huffs an indignant little sound. “What if I said that was your prize?”
“A bullet?” He tilts his head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”
“No, I really should.” You insist past chattering teeth, and tug more severely at his ankle despite your heavy, shivering limbs.
He watches you struggle in vain, and you hate the amused little glint in his eyes.
Finally, you flop back into the snow, winded.
“I won.” He provides smugly, and you punch at his calf in one more outraged attempt to dislodge him, with no success.
“So what then?” You seethe. “Are you going to capture me again?”
“No.”
You blink, look up at him, startled by the sudden severity of his tone. He bites out the word like you’ve insulted him, sneering and dangerous. You’d only sort of been joking, but the reflexive refusal that you’ve managed to elicit has you pause, considering.
“We’re...past that, Maus.” He goes on, voice softer. The boot eases from your arm a bit. “I thought we agreed on that much.”
"Some things are more beautiful when they are free, Maus."
It’s difficult to decide how you feel about that.
Part of you is relieved that König has decided to forego the obsession of capturing you. For reasons still unknown to you, O’Connor had kept Price alive during his captivity. You have a feeling that for you, your fate at the hands of KorTac would be far less kind. Held by ransom at best, an unmarked grave at worst, it’s fortunate for you that the Austrian towering above you has decided much the same.
Yet you also wish somehow things could go back to what they were- simpler. König trying to take you alive, and you- trying to kill him for it. Instead, the haunting memory of the darkness inside the storage closet of the KorTac base, of how you’d almost let him kiss you, of how you saw his face, remains a treacherous addiction you desperately try to rid yourself of. Now, this, whatever it is, seems to have spiraled beyond your reach, unable now to discern the lines between villain and dangerous ally, a balance you fail to reconcile with every frost-bitten breath inside your chest.
You try to force a glare up at him, but instead feel your expression cast between dismay and doubt, a visage that he absorbs and blinks slowly down at you.
“You’re shaking, Maus.” He notes quietly, voice barely audible above the ice-laden wind. “Are you afraid?”
“No.” You bite back, and that at least is the truth. “Just freezing my ass off.”
König tilts his head at you, and is silent for a moment, considering. Yet then you see his eyes behind the mask, crinkling at the edges as he smiles.
“Poor little liebling.” He coos, and you frown harder at that, the almost condescending dip of his voice. Yet before you can protest König uses his boots to gently roll you onto your stomach back to the position you were at before, and then abruptly dropping his weight onto your back.
“W-what-” You croak in surprise, face warming as you try and squirm under the massive bulk of him pressed flat against your spine. “What are you doing?!”
“You said you were cold.” The giant above you reasons, settling in so he blankets you on all sides with his larger frame. “I’m just trying to keep you warm, Maus.”
Your brain short circuits, fizzling into nothingness as you battle the absolutely absurdity of the situation with the welcome body heat bleeding into your bones from above.
This is so beyond the field manual I might as well burn the thing.
König happily nuzzles into your back, trapping you underneath him. He arranges his arms in a cradle to rest your head in, his own cheek pressed to the nape of your neck with a pleased sigh.
You can’t even find the words to object to this bizarre development, eyes blinking dumbly into the wall of white that obscures the other side of the valley where Soap and Ghost have vanished to. You can only silently thank whatever higher power there is that they can’t see this- can’t see you as you find yourself cuddling with the enemy.
“I’ll take this as my prize.” König murmurs cheerfully, and you make a sound of utter disbelief, confused yet not entirely displeased at this development.
The more you fail to squirm free, the more heat radiates from the form of the soldier behind you, encasing you in a small cocoon of heat that blessedly chases above the shiver in your muscles. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing against him, taking in the warmth for all its worth and silently convincing yourself it’s just for survival.
Can’t RV if I’m hypothermic, after all. You try to reason, blatantly ignoring the tiny voice inside you that speaks otherwise.
“You’re keeping me alive.” You muse aloud, mouth partially covered by your snow mask and the cradle of his arms.
“I am.” König replies simply with a small shrug.
“Why?”
König pauses for a moment. You swear you feel him stiffen, feel the thump of his heartbeat pound between your shoulder blades as he attempts to summon an answer.
“Because I like you, Maus.” He tells you at last, soft and breathy in your ear. “I like you better alive.”
The cold air in your lungs seems to punch at the staccato rhythm inside your chest, forcing a cold intake of air that you pray he doesn’t notice.
“Since that first time we met.” König goes on, voice rumbling low from his chest into the warming dip of your spine. “I saw you, saw the way you fought, the way you...weren’t afraid. You were so soft and small in my arms...”
He trails off then, but when he resumes his musings he chuckles low against your nape. “You were like a little bird, but when you woke up it turned out you had fangs, Maus.”
You feel a small flush of pride at that, at the reminder of the way you had challenged him, had refused to back down despite the towering, intimidating stranger before you. In truth you’d been terrified, knowing your capture could have meant torture, even death, knowing that Gaz had been left behind bleeding and unconscious.
Gaz...
Your face falls in dismay.
What would he think of you like this? With the man who once had almost killed him? Who had dared to steal you away right in front of his eyes? What would he make of this? With you in the arms of an enemy, refusing to squirm free, to kill the man who had once helped kidnap Price.
...With a man who had saved your life more times than you could count?
“We can’t...do this.” You breathe quietly into the snow, eyes half lidded and scarcely gazing at the wall of white before you. “König...”
The man behind you is silent, and you know without seeing his eyes he’s taking in your words, thinking very much the same. Like you, König knows the danger of his fascination with you, the way he’s already betrayed his own company to aid you, to keep you safe. You both know that the lines you have both crossed betray the allies you’ve sworn yourselves to, caught in a dangerous abraxas that neither of you can control.
“Would you?” He asks in a whisper shielded by the wind. “If things were different, Maus?”
You close your eyes, feeling your chest clench with an emotion you dare not name. You should lie to him. You should tell him that this, this is something you never expected, something you can indulge in no longer. You should tell him next time that you won’t hesitate, that you’ll squeeze the trigger and watch this horrid affair finally come to its fateful, bloody conclusion.
Instead, you offer in a scarce whisper:
“Yes.”
There’s a long pause before König sighs behind you, his chest deflating into your spine and the warm breath of him spilling across your nape. You shiver under him, purely out of sensation rather than the cold, reminded of the intimacy of the position you two find yourselves in.
“What am I going to do with you, Maus?” He asks, and despite the melodrama involved you know it’s a genuine question- one you yourself have asked many, many times.
“We could go back to trying to kill each other.” You offer with feign cheerfulness.
“I never wanted to kill you, Maus.”
Right.
In some ways you wish he had. If König never had qualms about killing you, perhaps this could be avoided.
“You could desert.” You say suddenly, surprising yourself. “Defect and surrender to the 141.”
“Do you really think it’s that simple, Maus?” He asks, almost dismayed.
You know it’s not. With everything König has done, with the legacy he’s left on you and your teammates, you know they’d never trust him. Even if you explained to them that König wasn’t the monster they think he is, that he had never done the things they suspect him of, you know all you’d receive in return is your friends’ disbelief and distrust for lying to them, for asking them to trust the man who had once captured you.
The image of their faces, of the hurt and despair and disappointment etched across their eyes, is something you can hardly bear.
This is your fault, you think quietly, with dawning despair. You should have killed him long ago. You should have told your team. Perhaps they’d have forgiven you if you’d confessed, consoled you and told you that this was all just a horrible maladjustment to your capture back then. If you’d told them, if you’d killed him...
“Maus.” König observes at the small shuddering breath you draw in, emotions bubbling inside your chest.
If things were different, then somehow....maybe...
“Bravo-09, this is Bravo-07.”
You jolt, muscles seizing at the sudden staticky tenor of Ghost’s voice over your comms. König braces on his forearms to allow you to scramble for your radio, voice breathless as you respond.
“Go ahead Bravo-07.”
“Sweep cleared. Proceeding to rally point Alpha. Fifteen minutes.”
“Good copy, LT. Are you being followed?”
A pause, then. “Negative, Bravo-09. Place was empty. Looks like they’d just burned it.”
You blink, then twist towards König.
“You bastard.” You manage, eyes wide as you realize what he’s done. “This was a distraction.”
König’s eyes soften with a remorse that fails to quell the anger warming in your veins.
“A necessary one, Maus.” He offers simply, removing the weight of his body from yours. You twist onto your back to face him, a mixture of rage and hurt written clear across your face. König towers above you, a massive shadow that easily dwarfs your prone form.
“You’re lucky you and your friends came when you did. A day earlier and you’d all be dead.”
“Why?” You manage, voice strangled. “Why distract us?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Maus.” He offers, almost sadly. “We’re still enemies, after all.”
He steps away from you then, and even when you know he sees your hand reach for your sidearm, he doesn’t flinch. Instead he pauses, offers you a clear line of sight that would allow you to take the perfect shot at his turned back.
“...But maybe not forever.” He finally offers, and steps easily into the trees, vanishing.
You watch after him, expression pained, asking the snowy sky for answers it cannot yield.
In the place where he once was, your finger trembles on the trigger.
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cannedmuffins · 10 months
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König is her goodest bestest boy ever 😊
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slutweeds · 16 hours
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The Many Benefits Of Being A Marine Biologist - 2
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Eldritch Octo!König/ Marine Biologist!Tango AU
Aka: rise of the monsterfucker👌
Summary: The Sierra Golf Oceanography Team has captured an unusual creature that appears almost completely human
Words: approx 1.3k
TWs: injury, near-drowning.
Barrera scoffed. "¡No mames!"
"I'm telling you, he was just right here," Tango insisted, fingertips pressed to the glass of the tank. "Every morning this last week, like he was waiting for me."
Barrera stepped up closer in disbelief. "And it was just watching you?"
"Yeah!" She nodded enthusiastically, stepping back again. "He's been mimicking the things I've been doing. Hand gestures, pacing, writing-- I'd show you if he would just come over here."
"Decided it's a 'he'?" Barrera teased.
"Have you fucking seen him?" She gestured broadly to the hazy saltwater. "He's practically got a third leg. I feel like we need to give him a pair of pants."
"You think he'd know what to do with them? Since he’s ‘mimicking’?”
"I mean-" she shrugged. "We can find out."
It'd been a week since recording her initial findings. Since then, she'd been the first in the lab every morning, waking up extra early, just to see if she could gather more notes.
Every time, König came up to the glass to watch and mimic the things she'd been doing- going as far as to draw the word "HI" in the thin layer of algae collecting on the barrier, simply because Tango had done it first by fogging up the glass with a deep breath and drawing the word with her fingertip.
He was incredibly smart, and seemingly adapting to his living conditions by seeking privacy, hiding either in the kelp or coral beyond where eyes or cameras could see. So they'd tested his intellect by dropping puzzles in the tank. Puzzles previously used for octopi, given his obvious dexterity. And while nobody saw him solve them with their own eyes, surveillance cameras near the glass had captured him picking them up and taking them further into the water. By morning, when Tango would arrive, she found the solved puzzles deposited near the glass.
And this morning, the completed puzzle was thrown out of the tank, laying on the floor in a puddle.
"I feel like he knows he's being recorded," Tango suggested. "What if we turn the cameras off?"
Barrera shook his head. "I doubt it's shy, Tango."
"Well, he's not exactly an extrovert, is he?"
"Look," Barrera sighed, scratching his beard with one hand, the other arm crossed against the front of his lab coat. "The cameras don’t turn off. And even then, every little bit of footage captured is priceless. We can't afford to miss anything."
Tango rolled her eyes and strode towards the rolling ladder near the tank.
She grabbed hold of one of the yellow-painted rails and pulled the whole thing closer towards the edge of the tank. Up above the edge of the glass was a camera bolted to the ceiling that pointed straight down into the water. "Just one camera, then," she said, unhooking the safety chain connecting the rails at the bottom step of the ladder. Not bothering to lock the wheels into place. Not even thinking about it. “Maybe if we take one camera off him, he’ll be a little more social.”
“Tommie, they don’t-”
“I know, Hugo, I know they don’t turn off,” she walked up the steps, the soles of her shoes scraping lightly against the metal grate underfoot. “I’m just gonna reposition it towards the ceiling for a few minutes and see what happens.”
She reached the top step of the four-wheeled ladder and it shook slightly, her weight on the unlocked wheels making the structure shift underneath her, and making her sway with it as she reached up for the camera. Her fingertips only just barely brushed the underside– and she didn’t think twice about standing on her tiptoes to try to reach it better.
She nudged the camera to face up and away from the tank.
The ladder shifted underneath her again, the wheels having turned just enough for the whole thing to roll about two inches to the left– and sent Tango toppling just as Barrera rushed forward to try to steady the platform
She fell with a startled shout, landing hard on the edge of the tank, the wind knocked out of her as pain bloomed in her side. She saw black spots in her vision as she dropped into the massive tank.
SPLASH!
The world around her became a haze of blue and the roar of fine, rushing bubbles as she sank into the tank like a rock, thrashing, not knowing which way was up in her disorientation.
Her eyes stung from the salinity, her vision blurring, her lungs burning from the strain of prolonged emptiness as she tried to figure out which way was up. Which way was out.
She saw a shape in the water- and for a moment, thought it was Barrera on the other side of the glass coming to fish her out–
Until she saw the darkness of König's hood and the massive shape of his body coming at her.
She gasped, on reflex, inhaling water and tasting the nauseatingly intense ocean salt- her body jerking and frantically searching for up, up, up where air and help and safety were!! To get away from this creature that had been studying and fixating on her for days like she was the perfect prey!
He seemed to dwarf her up close, his overwhelming presence taking up her whole tunnel-visioned periphery as she was becoming lightheaded with terror and lack of oxygen.
He stilled her with his hands on her- one wrapping around her arm and the other taking a firm hold of her hip, grabbing onto a belt loop as he hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he swam.
She struggled against his grip, thinking he was bringing her deeper down into whatever structure of the reef he'd been hiding in. Her weakening fight did nothing to lessen the pressure of his hold, but she persisted all the way until they broke the surface. She didn't even realize it at first in the middle of her blackout, but she was vaguely aware of König handing her off to Barrera at the edge of the tank, her fellow biologist standing on top of the now steadied ladders platform and wrapping his arms tightly around her middle to pull her up and out of the water, causing sharp agony to whiten her vision for a second.
She sunk to her knees on the grated platform, her skin and bones aching on the serrated tread as she retched and vomited seawater through the grate.
Shaking like a leaf, whole body heaving as her vision lightened and began to return to normal, she could only focus on the urgent need for oxygen and the deep, aching pain in her side where her body had struck the top of the tank when whe fell in. She wondered if she'd cracked a rib, because each desperate, sucking intake of air hurt so much that she couldn't even focus on Barrera's panicked, rapid line of questions.
“Are you okay?”
“Is anything broken?”
“Did it hurt you?”
“I think I broke something,” she wheezed, not registering the sloshing in the tank behind them, the noise lost to her among the sound of her gasping and the showering of water pouring off of her sopping wet clothes and hair and onto the lab floor.
“¡Puta madre-!"
Barrera's gasp made her sharply turn towards the tank, her eyes wide, the ache in her body making her shudder with the sudden movement.
Behind them, at the top of the tank's wall, König had pulled himself up to observe, his arms crossed on the top rail that blunted the thick glass at the top. To anyone who didn't know what he was, he would've looked like a swimmer taking a leisurely rest at the edge of a pool.
His eyes were still trained on Tango, like Barrera wasn’t even there to begin with. Like he was watching to be certain that she was okay– or like a predator observing its prey in a weakened state, determining when to stop playing with its food.
Tango had the realization right then that the height of the aquarium wall was pointless if König had the wherewithal to know that he could have climbed out of the tank like this at any given time. And he was, apparently, amphibious. Purposely surfacing himself without appearing to be in any sort of discomfort.
What was keeping him here if he had the ability to escape whenever he wanted?
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milkywayhou · 4 days
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When she is the big spoon but you're not the little spoon
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ghouljams · 4 months
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König is so mean treating you like a toy when he fucks you. Pulling your legs up to his shoulders, your ankles by his ears as he crowds his fat cock into you. He cages you in with strong arms, squeezing your thighs together between his biceps to make you just that much tighter as his hands cup to back of your neck and curl you towards him. He forces you to look him in the eye as he fucks you, tips your head further to watch him bulge out your stomach with his thick cock.
"Look at that," he breathes, "stupid little toy, only good for taking my cock, ja?" You whine, the feeling of his dick stretching you out is already too much but the position lets him force his length so much deeper. He hits something overwhelming and electric in the pit of your stomach, and he keeps hitting it. Over and over, dragging your body down against his thrusts until you can't get a breath in to scream. The pleasure sticks in your chest, compounding as you try to arch your back, try to wiggle away, try to claw at his thick biceps for something to hold onto. Your stomach is tight, tight, tight, as his cock punches that deep spot, so good it hurts. Tears bead at the edges of your vision as you choke on a sob. You can feel yourself gushing around his dick, slick dripping off of you and onto the floor next to his desk. Someone will have to clean that up, with any luck he'll force your head down to do it yourself. Always a caring colonel.
"So wet meine liebe," he chuckles, leaning close to watch your face contort with pleasure, there's something almost pitying in his gaze, patronizing, "taking everything I give you. Not a thought in that silly head of yours. You like being a toy liebchen?"
"Yes," you whine, gasping and moaning as his cock drives into you.
"Yes?" He coos, his voice cold and patronizing. He fucks your approval out of you, your 'yes' mixing with pleas and screams as you claw at his skin for some release on the pressure building inside of you. Something snaps suddenly, some valve breaks and you gush around him, squirting against his stomach and clenching tight around his cock. He groans, a breathless chuckle dripping from his lips as your slick smears your thighs. "There it is," he grins, switching his grip to hold you by the throat, pinning you to his desk, "pretty baby, my stupid pretty baby."
You scratch at his wrist as he pound into you, the angle just slightly kinder. The friction of his cock in and out of your poor abused cunt only builds heat in your stomach again. You can't do more than moan as König's hips slap against your ass, his pace growing faster as he chases his own high. His words turn to growls and grunts, until he snaps his hips tight against yours and groans low, his hot cum spilling inside you. You whine, feel his grip change to rub his thumb against your cheek before patting it, affectionate but rough enough to keep you in the scene.
He clicks his tongue, "What a mess you've made liebchen, I thought I trained you better than that."
"I'm sorry colonel," you hum, your legs shaking and your hips aching when he lets them drop to the floor.
"You're sorry?" His thumb rubs against your lips, fingers firm under your chin as he pulls you to sit up, "Then you'd better apologize properly."
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imperihoe-writes · 7 months
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Wildflower Patches
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König / fem!Reader
Summary:  König wants to help the Reader get over her hopeless crush on Horangi, and she starts seeing him in a completely different light.
Content:  mentions of one-sided Horangi/Reader, heartbreak, jealous and caring König, friends to lovers, friendly hand-to-hand combat, some mild sexual tension, pure fluff ↳ call-sign for the reader is Spatz
Word Count:  2.8k
Notes: Something that has been brewing for ages in the back of my mind, and then I watched a compilation of Horangi takedowns today and thought how cool would it be if a tiny reader did that to König? 
I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for all the love that my other COD works have been receiving!! ✨
Translations at the end of the story! 🤍
The whole mess between her and Horangi had started on a Friday night in the middle of nowhere, a rundown bar the backdrop to Spatz hopelessly giving away a piece of her heart. The team had been drinking after a successful mission, König to her left and Horangi to her right, some of the other guys chatting to local barflies as they threw back cheap Jägermeister shots.
Everything had been as it usually was, with König mostly quiet around so many people but funny in his bluntness whenever she asked him a question, and Horangi... well. He was a little tipsy and Spatz was no stranger to the sudden affection he sometimes bestowed upon König or herself, but that night he suddenly put his arm around her and rested his forehead on her temple.
"Good work today," he'd said, voice low as König watched behind his civilian-friendly facemask, eyebrows raised. "I'm proud of you."
And just like that, Spatz had felt a swooping sensation in her stomach, then butterflies and then the traitorous blush that wouldn't leave her face whenever Horangi came over to give her pointers in the following months. 
She had it bad for him, loved to listen to his voice over the comms, admired his form as he and König sparred, and held her breath whenever he cleaned out a room of enemies. 
Until, and they had both agreed to never speak of it again, König had found her in a sniper nest, sobbing her heart out. 
"Was ist los?" He'd asked in a panic, switching to German like he sometimes did when it was just them. His big hands had hovered over her prone body, checking for wounds and blood where there was none, thinking that Spatz was crying in fear for her life instead of over a pathetic crush she couldn't shake off. 
"Nothing," she sniffled, wiping her nose on the thick material of her sleeve before stubbornly looking through the scope. "Just having a bad day."
König had exhaled then, slowly. His massive body had folded himself into a smaller crouch, then he'd stretched out next to her, getting his own rifle ready.
"I don't need help," she'd snapped and he had stiffened, blue eyes flashing in warning as he stared her down. Spatz immediately felt even worse and started to sob again. "I'm- I'm sorry, sir."
"You know I'm only König when it's just us," he'd murmured softly, appeased. His kindness only made her cry harder, and, clearly flabbergasted, König had reached out a gloved hand and petted her on the head in a there there sort of way. It was so typical for him, that Spatz couldn't hold the loud hysterical laugh in any longer, feeling foolish and like a stupid little girl, completely out of control.
Alarmed, König had clamped that same hand over her mouth, before drawing the camouflaged blanket more firmly over her head, effectively obscuring her weapon. Her protest was drowned out by the hand, and his eyes were reduced to slits.
"Whatever it is," he'd said, voice dangerous. "You have to hold yourself together, right now, or I will put in a request for you to be pulled off this mission. Are we clear?"
The laughter had died in her throat, and Spatz nodded as best as she could until he finally released her face. She could still taste the leather and dust from his gloves on her lips but didn't dare move. They laid like that, belly down with König scoping out the area and her trying to get a grip.
After a few minutes, she shuffled closer to him again, to free her sniper rifle from its concealed spot. He didn't ask, but Spatz still confided the truth to him, no matter how embarrassing it was.
"I think I might be compromised."
"Meaning?" His voice was careful, neutral.
"I've developed feelings for one of my superiors, and now I don't think I can be around them during missions anymore."
When he didn't say anything for a long while, she hastily added: "It's not you, don't worry."
"I know."
The admission was kind and soft, with an undertone she couldn't place.
"I'll make sure that your work won't involve him too closely for the foreseeable future."
König didn't even ask who it was, and Spatz felt her cheeks redden. Had she been that obvious?
"Danke, König," she said, truly grateful to have such a great friend by her side.
"Don't mention it."
He'd stuck to his word like she knew he would, and Horangi hardly crossed her path outside of the base gym anymore. The Korean seemed unbothered, always nodding his head in polite greeting or stopping to ask how things were going, but nothing beyond that.
Spatz clung to it, that professional air Horangi carried. Told herself over and over that she was hoping for a miracle the more she lost herself in fantasies of him pulling her close again - like he'd done that night. She slowly replaced the imagined I love you‘s with I'm proud of you‘s again, just as the hug had been intended.
It was hard and it hurt, but she slowly healed the many cracks and bruises her heart had taken before.
König watched her do it, and would sometimes bring over an extra portion of dessert whenever she had a bad day or strike up a conversation about the country singers they both loved. It was nice, and kind, and soon they were back to talking about their families, and their childhoods and dreams for the future that didn't involve active service. She hadn't realized how much she'd neglected their friendship until it was back in full force.
"I'd like to have a garden, you know," König had said one evening, in the back of a transporter on their way to cross the border into enemy territory. "A wildflower patch and some potatoes. I think that'd be nice."
She'd giggled a little and nudged his knee with hers.
"But you're allergic to bees and pollen, how will you survive the summers with all that glorious garden to tend to?"
He'd looked at her then, blue eyes shining and crinkling around the edges in a smile. 
"I'll figure something out."
"Meaning you'll make your future wife do it?" She teased, sobering up a bit, but still keeping a grin plastered to her lips.
König watched her face for a long moment, before bumping against her knee in return.
"Or I'll hire a gardener instead."
Spatz snorted and rolled her eyes. "Does that not defeat the whole purpose?"
He giggled in that charming, utterly unexpected way of his. 
"What can I say Spatz, I just like to look at pretty things."
"You have never played Capture the Flag?" She asked in utter disbelief. "How on earth did they teach you divide-and-conquer tactics as newbies then?" 
"We did go for some paintball rounds," König defended himself, arms crossed over his wide chest as he glared down at the modified guns. "And then just followed instructions and theoretical lessons."
"How boring," Spatz grinned, knowing she was about to poke a sleeping bear. "I always knew the German military was better than the Austrian one."
If looks could kill, she'd be writhing on the floor gasping out her last breath right now. 
"What did you just say? Wie kannst du-" 
"Anyway," Spatz interrupted him loudly, then pushed a dark blue vest against his stomach. He reflexively grabbed hold of it, still glaring. "These will count not only the impacts but also place your bullets, so we can keep track of critical hits. Four of those and you're out. If you don't find me or the flag within the time limit, you're out. Your helmet and pants work the same way, so make sure to put them on before you come after me. If I see you cheating and only running around with a helmet, I'll be very cross with you."
Spatz watched him put on the entire outfit with a grin, how the pants stretched over his thick thighs and blue eyes flashed with new-found determination. 
"I know you like the back of my hand, Spatz," he said softly. "There is no way I will lose."
She patted his shoulder mockingly.
"Whatever you say, my dear, whatever you say."
Spatz then thoughtfully picked a bright green paintball gun with a tactical scope, her helmet, goggles and even sticky gloves for good measure. She was a fantastic climber, and maybe she could use that to win.
"We will start at opposite ends, with you chasing me," she reminded him, as soon as she was ready. "Headshots mean instant kill. If you find the flag, wherever it may be, the game reverses and I have to take it back before you reach your starting point. Any questions?"
"Let's just get on with it," he growled, paintball gun looking like a children's toy slung over his shoulder. "I'll give you three minutes to run and hide, little rabbit."
"And then the big bad wolf comes chasing?" She laughed, before turning towards the obstacle course that consisted of several houses, tunnels, heavy doors and fake burned-out cars. 
"Something like that," he murmured and watched Spatz take off in a sprint, slender body immediately swallowed up by the debris and dim red lighting. 
She ran only as far as she suspected König's line of sight to be, then turned in the opposite direction, dodging around the outside walls of the buildings and essentially doubling back on herself, gun held tight as she went. She wasn‘t going to leave the brightly fluorescent flag anywhere but in her pocket, since König would do the same and she‘d learned from the best.
Spatz assumed that he might try to hide out somewhere higher up, sniper instincts probably screaming at him to find a safe spot and lie in wait until her patience ran out - as it was bound to happen.
But she was der Spatz, a nickname hailing from climbing up high places and sitting at the ledge of buildings like a bird, with no fear of falling. If she caught a glimpse of his big body somewhere, she‘d scale even higher and take him out from above. 
Maybe König would surprise her and take the offense? She ran faster, sliding into an empty tube that simulated old sewers, hiding for now. Quieting her breath, Spatz waited for any sign of life around her.
A glance at her wristwatch revealed that six out of thirty-five minutes were already over. If-
Quiet crunching noises, like heavy boots stepping over gravel or sand, sounded from outside the tunnel. Next moment, the massive body of her friend appeared. König was looking up towards a house nearby, scouting the roof and leaving himself completely vulnerable to her.
She crouched further down into the shadows, aimed carefully, and then shot him in the side, not wanting to end their game prematurely with a headshot. 
The bright green paint splattered all over the left side of his ribs, close to where his heart would usually beat if this were a life-or-death situation. Spatz giggled, quickly turned on her heel and sprinted down the dark and narrow sewer pipes, hoping that her surprise attack was enough to stall him a little bit. 
One out of four critical hits, she thought happily, whistling down the tunnel like a bird, mocking him. She knew she had gotten lucky and needed to be quick now.
"Scheiße!" König snarled, then whirled around towards the footsteps echoing behind him. Ducking, he ran after Spatz, long legs crossing the distance much more effectively.
He faintly saw her shadow take a sharp left turn up ahead and decided to try and cut her off by going over the top. He reversed his steps, then bolted outside into the heavy red light again, tracing the pipelines with the help of discreet air vents along the obstacle courses flooring.
She kept running, listening out for his heavy footsteps behind her until they faded away.  Must have lost him, she thought smugly, slowing her steps a bit to take some much-needed deep breaths. Her heart was hammering as she looked for a quick way out, thankfully spotting a fake sewer lid soon after. 
Strapping her gun over her back and double-checking if the flag was still in her pouch, she pushed the lid up before curling her hand over the opening and heaving herself out of the tunnel. 
The clicking of the safety switch made her stop dead, arms shaking under her own weight as she stared down the end of a barrel. She looked up at König, wide-eyed and still half in and half out. 
He towered above her, breathing heavily. König hadn't pulled the trigger yet, so Spatz quickly changed tactics. She pulled herself out all the way and looked up at him with wide eyes and a sweet smile. 
„König,“ she practically purred, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"You can hand over the flag and spare yourself the paint to the face," he said, accent heavier than usual. 
"I will," she nodded, seriously, then bent down towards her shoe, acting like she'd hidden the flag there of all places. 
König, bless his heart, lowered his gun a little. Clearly pleased. With one abrupt motion, Spatz twisted back up, hooking one arm around König's middle to fling herself around him by his gear straps and onto his back.
He didn't stumble, he was much too heavy for that, but muscle memory kicked in and all the hours of training with and pining for Horangi finally paid off. She rammed her elbow into the exact spot that she'd stick a knife into an enemy, and König grunted as his knees buckled.
She barely caught his body as he went down a bit, hauling her entire weight back around and onto his chest, toppling him. 
He jerked his gun up between them, preventing her from turning it on himself or disarming him, then pushed back. Spatz had caged his wide torso with her thighs, struggling to stay on top as a giggle wormed itself up her throat, adrenaline making her giddy.
She knew she had no chance against him in hand-to-hand combat. König had thrown her around like a cotton ball countless times, the gym mat an old friend and good acquaintance with her face by now.
But that had been when he was careful and measured, trying to teach her something. Now, it was a matter of pride. And König wasn't above playing dirty.
With all of his considerable strength, he scrunched through his abdomen and Spatz fell backwards with a squeal, scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders as he simply folded himself in half above her, trapping her squirming body between his legs and chest.
They were both breathing heavily, and he flung the toy gun to the side, then grabbed her wrists in one big hand, pinning them to the floor. Spatz closed her legs around his middle again, trying to roll them over, but König was as immovable as a rock out in the stormy sea.
His hood tickled her face as blue eyes burned into hers. Their chests touched like this, and her heart was hammering so wildly that she wondered if he could feel it too.
"Hand it over and give up," König growled.
"You'll have to release me first," she whispered, and the big Austrian considered her for a long moment, gaze flickering over her face and down her throat. She swallowed.
His thumb moved to the side a little, releasing her wrists easily, but she kept them there a few seconds more, staring back at him. An inferno burned through her stomach at the intensity of his gaze, the weight of him, and the way he'd bested her so quickly. 
Slowly, she raised her hands and König pushed himself off her the tiniest bit to give her access to her vest and trouser pockets.
But instead of going for the flag, who even cared about that stupid thing anymore when König practically devoured her with his gaze, Spatz raised her shaking fingers to his sniper hood, tracing the edges of it. He sat up further and curled his legs beneath her, forcing her upper body higher and her hips to land more firmly in his lap.
He held her there, massive hands sprawled over her ribs from both sides. Watching, just watching. Giving her the opportunity to- what? Was she reading too much into this? Again? Spatz didn't know if she could survive another hopeless situation.
"Ich bin nicht er," König whispered, voice rough as he pulled her closer. Her fingers slid under the hood, pulling the shirt fabric higher and slowly revealing a pale face with full lips that were marred by a scar, otherwise smooth skin and gingery-blonde hair that was cut back in a military buzz. Handsome, vulnerable. 
"I know," Spatz whispered back, then kissed him softly. 
And amidst the wreckage of a nameless town, with rubber cars around them and paint smeared along the inside of her thighs and his ribs, she felt herself opening up to the possibility that perhaps, maybe, one day- she could picture herself next to König, watching wildflowers bloom. 
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TRANSLATIONS Was ist los? - What is it?/What's wrong? Danke - thank you Wie kannst du- - How could/dare you- der Spatz - the sparrow Scheiße! - Shit! Ich bin nicht er. - I am not him.
Fun fact: Some germans call their significant others or their children "Spatz", because sparrows are small and cute. König takes great precaution to never slip a 'my' in front of her name, though it pains him 👀
THANK YOU FOR READING. Cute and considerate König might be my favorite out of all of them, and it's very satisfying to finally bring this idea to life! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did: here is my COD masterlist for you to indulge in!
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callsignhood · 3 months
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Drew some COD operators with OCs as drawing practice! For @gremlingottoosilly and @puff0o0
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