#konig drabble

[beloveds-embrace]

Telling Ghost/König you are too heavy for him to pick up or sit on his face, and he doesn’t say anything at first so you think he just accepted it even if your heart kinda twinged a little in pain because you know you are just not skinny enough-

Only for him to send you a video the next day: in the gym, looking mighty hot in a compression shirt and sweatpants just a touch low on his hips, and lifting a bar with ease. On a closer look? The weighs attached to the bar weigh far more than you do. And he so easily maneuvers and controls and manhandles it…

Between the heat curling in your stomach, face pink and thighs clenched shut, you almost miss the incoming text.

Never too heavy for me, doll.

[lycheedr3ams]

I’m at the beach rn so I wanted to do a quick drabble with fem!reader x König at the beach. Light suggestive themes.

First of all, König does NOT like the beach. There’s too many people, it’s too loud, it’s hot, not to mention all the stares he gets for being tall, hot, and littered with tattoos and scars. Oh, he also wears one of those black surgical face masks to the beach.

König would never go to the beach on his own accord. You���d have to ask nicely beg him to go to the beach with you. He only agrees because he can’t have you prancing around in your cute little bikini with no big strong man to protect you from all the wandering eyes at the beach

König would pack so much water for you two. He can’t have you getting dehydrated! He would carry a whole cooler full of water bottles. You’d shove some snacks in there too, to feed your grumpy man and thank him for going to the beach with you

König has to be almost dragged to get in the water. He was never much of a water person; all his training is on land. He can’t watch for enemies if he’s playing mermaid with you, come on Schatz! He would absolutely NOT play mermaid, I’m sorry :( come on Schatz, grown men don’t play mermaid

After a while, König would get fed up with the water and go back to your spot. He would watch you the whole time though, making sure you’re not drowning or no one is getting too close. His eyes wouldn’t wander to any other woman but you

After an hour or so, König would demand you get out of the water for a water break. He’d make you drink a whole bottle before going back out to swim.

Oh also sunscreen. König gets really bashful when you have to apply sunscreen to him, but he has no trouble applying it on you. Hell, he has half a mind to paw at your breasts while he’s rubbing the sunscreen into those soft curves. You always bat your lashes innocently at him, and he grumbles and tries not to get a hard on. He also reapplies sunscreen to you every hour. You won’t get sunburn on his watch!

Going to the beach isn’t the most relaxing with König, though you know you’ll be well hydrated and cared for ❤️ and it’s all worth it to König when he gets to take you out to dinner afterwards in your cute post-beach makeup and sundress

[tinkertea]

mdni

god, i'm salivating at the thought of thick könig, big muscular thighs and a chunky muscular stomach. he isn't toned like a model, for beauty - no, he's toned like a soldier, like a war machine. dark hairs are covering his belly, a thick hairy trail leading you down between his legs.

the way he'd indulge your admiration of his strength, flex his biceps for you, making you gasp each time in excitement. but you're particularly fond of his legs. he's so tall, so strong. the muscles of his thighs are well defined and the way he oh so deliciously flexes them while making you grind on them has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

god, he loves being covered in your slick, feeling your arousel coating him. könig's obsessed with making you use him, he loves being your toy - yet he doesn't seem to shut up, always grunting, big hands on your hips, guiding you. "fuck, that's it, keep using me. make yourself feel good on me, c'mon. wanna feel you cum on me like the pathetic little thing you are. y'know i won't fuck you otherwise, be good. no need to pout at me."

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

just thinking about getting all dressed up elegantly for a military ball… it’s the first time the men from KorTac have seen you outside of your uniform or training clothes. you walk down the stairs with such grace. your heels softly click against the stairs with each step. they almost can’t believe that it’s really you in that gorgeous black dress.

horangi waits for you at the bottom of the stairs with his hand extended out for you to hold onto — a true gentleman with a smug grin on his face.

out of nowhere, könig comes barreling through with his massive stature, completely bulldogging horangi to the floor, so he can be the one to hold your hand while you come down the stairs.

you pause your walking and look down to horangi, who is now lying on the floor, playfully groaning from the pain of being roughed up by a man with the strength that könig has. he knew that he was playing with fire when trying to court you, but he wanted to shoot his shot anyways.

“are you alright down there, horangi?” you ask with a small giggle, and he gives you a small thumbs up in response. you return your gaze to the oversized male who still had his palm extended to you — waiting for you to place your hand in his.

“you look so pretty tonight, maus.”

[k6tzie]

let's talk about his mask for a second...

it's somewhat implied that none of his teammates have seen his face before, "it's rumoured what's under the mask is even scarier." unlike ghost - the mask doesn't seem to be there for a cool look or practicality, from what we see it's as though he can't show his face for a particular reason?

we can see he's wearing a balaclava even under the hood which doesn't seem healthy for his breathing to have so many layers over your face in fact it'd most likely cause issues to his breathing. why would someone do so much just to hide their face? similar to before, he has no skin shown in any skins of his, why could that be? i just want to generate some ideas and discussions :)

[clairdelunelove]

sole recognition

könig x reader

genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, brief mentions of violence/blood, smug!könig

synopsis: the rumors that könig is a menace on the battlefield are all seemingly true but could the same be said behind closed doors?

a.n. luv reading all the reblogs! so I knew I had to write one about this man since the idea was so cute to me! I mayhaps over-indulged in aggressive and cocky könig in battle. I couldn't help it! (｡･･｡)

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currently thinking about the absolute mad lad that könig is on the battlefield but when he’s got you gently pressing stickers onto his makeshift sniper hood– it’s a completely different story.  

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an upcoming mission, without exception, has the ability of striking fear in even the most veteran of soldiers. the ones that have raged on in countless operations. whether that was being assigned to tasks such as bombing or reconnaissance; there was the potential for mistakes to happen. didn’t matter if it was a simple rescue operation. life on the front lines is ambiguous. the awareness of the unknown– the uncertainty– served to be the greatest fear factor for all. humans dread what they’re unfamiliar with. most sought comfort in recognizing their six is covered by their fellow squadmates. grasping onto the ideal that one’s miscommunication through coms isn’t entirely a single person’s fault. others take it upon themselves to be hyper-vigilant and prepared to avoid any misunderstandings. properly cleaning their weapons, packing extra rations, or ensuring the coast was clear before moving in the environment. prior planning to combat the uncharted. not könig, however. the man that conceals his identity with a sniper hood and layers of darkened clothing. a mystery, really. blends into the background when he’s not equipped with a weapon. the scariest part is that he’s unsuspecting. a mountain of a man that towers amongst the largest soldiers from the opposing side. resembling a jostling, clamorous silhouette that raced onto the battlefield before anyone else did. an enthusiast for violence. a fanatic for the chaos.

könig who isn’t typically found conversing with the others before a mission. jitters were pretty common prior to jumping off the aircraft and small talk was habitual to take the edge off. collective mutters of the appalling food ration that was eaten earlier or teasing remarks on who’ll heave up the aforementioned meal filtered through the air. light jabs alleviated some of the nervousness. he, however, sits tucked in the farthest corner of the space. his head is lowered while his gloved fingers rhythmically thrum against his khaki canvas pants. he’s talking too– just not with the others. prefers to murmur insensible comments to himself. if one listens carefully then it’s apparent that he’s hyping himself up. intensifying his need to have strength. to do well in battle. though, the consonants in his words reverberate and shake like broken chalk against a chalkboard. his mumblings bordering eerie by how expressive he is. how heated he’s become at the mere idea that he’ll be fighting. there’s not enough time to dwell on it because he’s hopping off the platform and plunging into where his expertise lies at. 

könig who brazenly shouts, “that’s our fucking juggernaut!” the holler is arrogant, presumptuous and entirely too eccentric to merge with the agonizing cries on the battlefield. his eyes skip to the soldier that hurls themself into the crowd with the sole purpose of massacre. it’s an insane sight. debris littering the place, bullets fizzing through the air, and medics dropping in to tend to the wounded. but he’s undeterred by the free-for-all. thrives in it. a pitched laugh leaves his lips at the familiarity before he’s bounding up the steps of an abandoned building. higher ground could be an advantage. he slips in, strangely quiet despite his size, before ambushing an off-guard sniper that was holed up in the room. throws his massive weight onto the rival’s back, before delivering a series of frenzied stabs with his pocket knife. splatters of blood coat his covered face and he uses the back of his arm to wipe it. smears the maroon liquid to mix with the red paint adorning his sniper hood. “got that bastard,” he huffs, victorious. 

könig who shines in close combat. granted, the title of colonel gets into his head sometimes. his uncontrolled, rabid, and quick movements are deranged. makes it impossible to counter him. the opposing side definitely attempts to but they’re instantly mauled by his attacks. his blue eyes are electric when he’s in control of being the hunter- not the prey. gaze darted to every crevice and corner to swiftly spot any spare weapons he could use. he picks up a riot shield. “the big fella is mine!” he bellows and races over to his acquired target. there’s a heavy thud as könig rams into the soldier. a curse spews out of his lips due to the strain, “scheiße!” yet, his arm whips around so his combat knife finds itself in the side of the other soldier. the fact that his body consists of long limbs and a toned physique aids in his skill. unbeknownst to others, a triumphant grin spreads across his face as he brags, “they are no match for me.” whispers of his ruthlessness follow him when his team secures the mission’s objective. he’s not listening though. his chest shakily rises to compensate for the hollow breaths he’s taking and his gloved hand grips at his chestplate. the objective was complete. gulps mouthfuls of air to keep him from becoming lightheaded at the adrenaline that fuels him– the rush unnecessary now. the back of his head smacks against the wall, a sensation he doesn’t feel, as he awaits landing back on base. 

könig who overlooks fully shutting the door to his office and will possibly (surely) regret it. he enters the room to gather paperwork. he stays for you. there’s a tiny crack that unveils the truth of how the colonel is utterly enamored by you. and if his comrades caught him in the position he was currently in– his superiority over them would be nonexistent. he’d just gotten back from the mission when you breathlessly threw your arms around him. “koni! how was it?” you ask as he steps into the small secluded room. there’s a giddy bounce in your step and a glimpse at his desk indicates that you’ve spent the time cleaning his office. his gloved hands instinctively find purchase on your waist as he mumbles that it went well. sweet touches reserved only for you. “maus,” he gestures to what you’ve done and his voice is so tender that you inwardly swoon, “there was no need to.” he wishes to chide you, in hopes of deterring your need to help him, but then your lower lip juts out into a pout, “I wanted to though. plus, look what I found!” and he ultimately abandons his initial thought because your glossy lips curl into a delighted smile when you present him with a sticker sheet. “found it in your desk while I was cleaning. how come you never told me they gave you stuff like this?” 

könig who breathily inquires, “did I do good?” while you’re seated on his lap. the contact serves to ground him but it only causes his heart to thrum faster against his ribcage. he recalls the events of his previous mission (albeit in a sputter of strung together words). doesn’t even know what’s happening before you’re crawling on his lap and whispering compliments. he startles, initially, because it’s virtually impossible to properly function around you. your beauty is almost blinding when he’s this close. his palms are sweaty underneath his tactical gloves. ears tinged red when you drag an experimental hand on his chest. the gaze he fixates on you is magnetic and his heady eyes regard you with clear devotion. you smell so delightful too. a sugary, delectable scent that has him preening for you. it’s quiet within the room, his jittery mannerisms and rapid inhales are the only audible noises. you don’t seem bothered by it, however. your tongue darts out in concentration as your fingers pry at the selection of stickers. “tell me I did good,” he essentially pleads and shuffles to push his face closer to yours, “please.” his eyes are so blue that you’re afraid of drowning in them. you let out a honeyed coo while placing a glittery star on his cheek, “you always do, koni.” a prize. for him. the colonel. the silly sticker blatantly contrasts with his disguise but it doesn’t trouble him because you’re moving to cup the side of his face in order to litter his face in colorful adhesives. light lashes fluttering, he presses himself into your touch and fondly confesses, “did it all for you, mein engel.” 

könig who barely heeds your playful scolding when you hum, “patience, koni,” but he’s anything but calm. you can’t apprise him when your plush lips are on his forehead. he stills. like a deer caught in the blaring headlights coming down a highway. such an affectionate kiss for a monstrous man. his stomach flips, a sensation he assumed only happened out on the battlefield, and an objection escapes his mouth. requests for another. his eagerness knocks a soft laugh out of you but the pretty noise is interrupted by könig chasing after your lips. a grumble of wanting– no– needing more. one would conclude that he was deprived of you. “I am, maus,” the giant male reasons as his forehead gently bumps against yours, “I’ll be patient for you.” and goodness do you reward him; sharp nails prodding underneath the piece of cloth that hangs from his head. upon uncovering the enticing stretch of skin, you press an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture of his neck. the pressure causes his head to abruptly jerk back as he hoarsely groans, “oh, süßi.” voice sticky and edging into desperation. his bony knees knock against your thighs as he readjusts himself in his seat which inadvertently drives you closer. his wandering hands settle on the curve of your hips, unintentionally shoving your hips to his. he mumbles quick apologies for his roughness. is unashamed about it, though. the disparity in his personality is alarming. but he can’t help it. not when he’s with you. puffs hot, needy breaths into your ear when you softly croon, “you’re so sweet to me, koni. the sweetest ever.” 

[5ukho1]

"Tell me you did not go to a fight without me."

Konig's eyes narrowed at me, watching as I applied water to my busted lip, attempting to clean it.

I rolled my eyes at him, putting away my cleaning kit before walking pass him, making sure to shoulder check him in the process.

"I don't need you to protect me." I muttered, opening the door only for Konig to slam it shut on me, his body close to mine as his arm held the door shut from over my shoulder.

"It's not about protection-" The male hissed, his head lowering towards mine to stare at me in my eyes, trying to get his point a crossed.

I could feel the anger radiating off him. His body language changed within second from the words that left my mouth.

"I don't want to hear it." I scowled, shoving Konig's body away from mine so I could open the door once more before slamming it back in his face.

[beloveds-embrace]

BARON KONIG UPDATE WE ALL CHEERED 😫💕💕

I love seeing reader with friends… thriving… bby girl deserves all the best and she’s finally getting it with konig and the barony yes 🫶🏻

AND ALSO

He resisted the sudden urge to coo at her, his little hirscht, the earnest fondness she had for his workers. It startled him, the sudden affection exploding in his chest like a dandelion puff. Instead, he cleared his throat, loosening his stance.

Konig is finally experiencing a burst of cuteness… awe?? and to no one’s surprise it’s for reader 🥹 the way you write him makes me feel so nejjsdnic feral I LOVE HIMMM

Thank you sm for the tag i loved this 😩💕💕

Haha, it is I again!

So how does Konig feel about their lessons? Does he look forward to them? Are they just to be a good employer? I’m sure he’s glad to see reader being able to get along better with people right? And when reader is fluent enough to not need lessons how does he feel?

(I’m not expecting an answer to all of these, or any of these, pick and choose at your leisure)

Huehuehue

Agent L 🕵️‍♀️

You love stirring the pot don't you? Naughty Wackus Bonkus (keep doing it, it gives me something to look forward to) Here's another attempt at Konig. I expected it to come out somewhat muddled, because to be honest neither he nor I know how to process his widdle feewings:

Konig is...conflicted. He's never been a man too in touch with his emotions, preferring to simply retreat to the outdoors when things became too much. Out between the trees and along the streams, he could feel less confined and the emotional slurry at rest, steadily sifted through until the muddied mixture dissipated into nothing and he could return inside where whatever caused them was settled. Unfortunately, he couldn't do so this time around, for the problem in this instance was of his own making, and rooted quite firmly in the barony. With a heavy sigh he closes the book he was pretending to read, instead looking out onto the small greenhouse. Inside he could make out several bodies, his maids who had taken to enjoying the warmth, as well as the company of the newest maid. They laid claim to the greenhouse for an hour or so when they could between tasks, insisting on teaching her further than just the times she and Konig arranged. His chest feels odd at the reminder, the emotions making him feel not-quite ill but certainly not well. He's grateful in a way, to have others teaching her their language. He knows he's not the most verbose in either tongue, direct and oftentimes blunt to avoid misunderstandings and awkward slip-ups in conversation. He'd much rather go to war and get shot again than put his foot in his mouth and insult someone at court in view of everyone. Ah, just the thought of the eyes and whispers heats his skin, turns him red and prickly and sets his leg bouncing in anxiety.

So yes, it's good her peers assist her in learning the twists and turns and at the same time it...not irritates him, but leaves him restless. No employer wants his staff at odds, so these meetings are good, especially when he hears them chattering as they fold laundry or wipe down the dining room. He doesn't have an ear for most gossip, he leaves that to Annika and Felix (though he won't admit to it), but if it gives them something to bond over then he'll let the halls fill with the most recent story of whose pants had to be let out at the tailor's, or whose dress was clearly ill-conceived. He does wish they would stop having these chats so late at night though, they need their sleep after all. Especially Hirscht, given her condition...

"My lord, I have something I must confess. You see, I am...with child." She had admitted roughly a week ago, hands wringing into her dress as she cowered before him like a child before a stern parent. It was reminiscent of their first meeting a little over a month ago (and how novel is that, how much she seems to bloom in such a short time in his presence?) when she seemed convinced he would send her away without a second glance. "I assure you, my condition will not hinder my work! I will continue to uphold the standards placed upon me when I was employed-" His ears didn't register the remainder of her words, brain refusing to translate the rapidly spoken English. He was distressed at how quickly she curled into herself, worried that she viewed him as a threat to her safety like what (or more likely who) she ran from in the first place. "I understand that this could cause complications down the line, and I apologize-" "Du arbeitest zu viel." "Beg pardon?" "Du arbeitest zu viel. Always beregen, huschen and herumhüpfen around, cleaning as if the Teufel is after you. You should have said something sooner, hirscht. You must be more careful." He crossed his arms, looking down at her as he lightly chastised her. "You're not mad?" She asked him, eyes watery in a way that made him fearful she would burst into tears. Lieber Gott, how he hated when women cried near him, he never knew what to do. "Nein, not at you for being a mother soon. That is not an issue, you have your place here. But you should have said something sooner, you shouldn't be running yourself ragged. You are fragile now, ja?" "Not entirely, I can still work, my lord! I'm not too far along for concern, per the doctor!" She was frantic, stepping closer to him despite him assuring her she wouldn't be cast out into the cold. Did she think him a liar? Had he not proved himself a fair employer? "You need your rest-" "I need to do my share-" She kept trying to plead her case to him, and he felt his brows furrow at her stubbornness. "What are you afraid of? I am not firing you." He sighed through his nose. People were always so complicated, like trying to pry open a clam without breaking the shell. "I don't want to be a burden on the others." She sniffed, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "I-the others, they are nett to me? I don't want them to have to do my work." In a smaller tone, just barely audible, she whispered, "I don't want them to hate me." He resisted the sudden urge to coo at her, his little hirscht, the earnest fondness she had for his workers. It startled him, the sudden affection exploding in his chest like a dandelion puff. Instead, he cleared his throat, loosening his stance. "They will not hate you. You have shown much effort here. You are not the first to have a baby here. Be prepared to have no peace though. Some of them wanted to be midwives." The slight laugh he got from her eased the strings pulled taut around his heart, shoulders dropping tension. "Thank you, sir." Konig blinks, returning to the present as he sees his maids, Emily and Joanna, accompanying her out of the greenhouse back into the barony proper. Joanna carried the tea set they must have snuck from the kitchen, while the others led the way. It brought a smile to his face, truly. He loves seeing those he is responsible for content. However... He can't help the sourness that wells up like morning dew in him when he is reminded that he is not the only one who holds his newest maid's attention. Reluctant to admit it, he is fond of their time together, of having someone who looks at him beyond being a noble, a man of power even if he refuses to wield it. Informal lessons between the two in which he could simply speak to another person, the fear of crossing an unseen boundary like a tripwire forgotten, a chance to simply have a conversation with someone. A hope not given voice of a potential friend in this foreign and frigid land, something he craved more than he expected.

How was he to build on this tentative thing in a way that wasn't imposing upon her without the lessons? To show he sought her time and company though not in the way most men of his station would? No matter how few times they had spoken, it left him yearning for more. For the first time in years, he wants to speak with someone, to listen and respond in kind, beyond the required civility. These thoughts, these feelings, threatening to choke him like kudzu around the oak, ensnaring him entirely. With a groan, he shoves his hands under his shroud, dragging them down his face. He would have to sell his soul and ask Annika for advice. May he never know peace again.

@beloveds-embrace Imma just start tagging you

[dmitriene]

cw: könig is a weirdo and reader match him.

könig likes pretty things, young and vulnerable dolls that bat their eyelashes prettily at him, wrapping their dainty hands around his thick bicep, trailing beside him despite his perverse touch, letting him lure them to his messed bed in some dark apartment, fuck their brain silly.

it's always a one time thing, könig ain't good for a long term relationship because of the bitter need to posses that been festering in him from the start, they just use each other, he has a lovely built body that makes girls salivate, and he packs a cock that is too thick you able to feel the ache even the next morning while trying to escape his apartment.

it's not the same with you, könig notices it by the way you cling to him while he punches his fat cock in your tight pussy, shallow thrusts of his wide hips making his thick cockhead pummel into your spongy spot, your hands clinging against his broad shoulders, walls tightening with rapid pulsing.

you ask him for kisses, enveloping his rough mug with your delicate palms and letting his tongue make out sloppily with your mouth, whining broken groans as he presses a wide palm to your tummy, feeling the bulge beneath where his girthy cock pistons in you, making your pussy squelch with each wet glide, as you coat his length in oozing slick.

you even let könig cum in you, flooding you full of creamy cum that drips out your pulsing hole, making a mess from the sheets and your trembling thighs, not uttering for once that now everything is tacky, instead, you curl against him like affectionate kitten and try to nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your cramping legs around his waist.

könig doesn't even knows what to think, you don't try to escape his bed immediately, instead pressing your naked body against his beefy one, letting his twitching cock stay buried inside of you, cockwarmed by your snug walls, as you let his burly hands envelope your frame and rock you to sleep like a baby.

and when you wake up early in the morning with pleasurable ache in your body and pussy throbbing, welcomed by the sight of breakfast in bed and könig clinging to you like a pup, smothering your neck in sloppy kisses and slurringly calling you his girlfriend, you don't run away.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[jayybugg]

warnings: slight, unsaid breeding kink. begging konig to nut in you. he is also kind of obsessed with you.

just a small blurb about konig, it's been sitting in my drafts for a long time. teehee.

word count: 423

Konig had no self-control. Once he experienced something that he enjoyed, then he would indulge it to the extreme. When he tasted a good snack, he brought them in bulk, or when he ate you out for the first time, it took all your strength to push Konig’s head away after hours of his tongue exploring your folds.

He was obsessed with everything about you, which Konig learned very early on. He was so obsessed that he would indulge in anything pertaining to you.

That’s why he never fucked you raw. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cumming inside of you at any given moment if he ever got to feel your slick pussy wrapped around his cock. He promised you that he trusted you and that he just wanted to make sure that there were no slip-ups.

Konig didn’t know that with one soft whine and big puppy dog eyes, you would break his foil-proof plan. You were so desperate for him when he walked through the door, basically ripping his pants off. You told him to just “pull out” when he said that he didn’t stop at the store to buy condoms.

That’s how he ended with having you folded into the meanest mating press, slamming into you raw. It was a new feeling, a great feeling. A feeling that Konig needed to feel all the time. The bed squeaked and creaked at each thrust, Konig’s large hands gripping your thighs tightly as he groaned into your neck.

“S-Such a slutty pussy you have, meine liebe.” Konig whimpered into your ear, “You just couldn’t wait for me to g-go get some condoms, could you?”

Your mind was blank, getting more mindless with each thrust. You babbled out utter nonsense, your nails digging into Konig’s back. “Answer me.” He grunted, “You wanted this. You wanted me to fuck you raw, so I could fill you up, didn’t you? You want me to knock you up?”

He lifted his head and upper body a bit to wrap his hand around your neck, giving it a firm squeeze. “Yes, p-please, cum in me. Fuck, knock me up.” You crossed your ankles behind his head.

Konig’s brain was short-circuiting, you were so wet and gripping him so tightly. How was he supposed to deny you what you wanted? His precious girl wanted him to fill her up then he was going to do it.

And truly what was the worst that could happen if he fucked his seed into you all the time?

[beloveds-embrace]

Can we please get that Duke König with the neglected Reader please Noona I am begging

The sun was beginning to set, painting the garden in hues of gold and pink. You sat alone on the stone bench you’d started occupying often, the cloak König had draped over your shoulders still providing its comforting weight. He had been here again today, as he often was now, seeking reasons to remain in the duchy far longer than any diplomatic duty you knew required.

He never came empty-handed, of course: a carefully chosen book, a delicately wrapped sweet, or today, a small bundle of lavender tied with a ribbon. Simple, yet thought out gifts. Gifts with you in mind.

König’s approach was always quiet, unobtrusive. He never demanded, never insisted, always leaving space for you to breathe, to speak if you wished- or to remain silent if you didn’t. His presence was unlike the others you were familiar with: gentle, steady, unhurried. You felt at peace around him, pressure not pressing down on your shoulders.

Today, he had sat beside you, his massive frame hunched to match your height, the soft timbre of his voice like a balm. “The Lavendel,” he’d started. “is for peace of mind. It helped my mother when her days felt too heavy. She would place it under her pillow.”

You hadn’t spoken much, but the corner of your lips had twitched upward, just slightly. That alone seemed to light his face with a kind of hope you hadn’t seen in years.

Inside the manor, the atmosphere was tense. John stood at the window, watching the garden from a distance. Kyle leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. Johnny sat stiffly on the armrest of Simon’s chair, and the latter simoly stared at the crackling fire.

“She smiled at him today,” Kyle muttered, his voice heavy with bitterness and sorrow. “… Haven’t seen her smile like that in months.”

Johnny ran a hand through his hair, his throat working as he swallowed. “An’ he’s the one who gets it. Him.”

“He’s a better man than we’ve been,” Simon said bluntly, tone cutting and sharp, but not wrong. “And she deserves better.”

John turned from the window, ashen. “It doesn’t matter what we think. What matters is what she chooses.”

“And what if she chooses him?” Kyle asked, his voice sharp, though the anger wasn’t directed at John alone. “What then?” The rumors would be dangerous…

None of them had an answer.

Days slowly turned into weeks, and König’s presence became as steady as the rising sun even as you began recovering more. He never pushed, but he was always there- when you wandered the garden paths, when you sat by the fire in the library, even once when you’d stood on the balcony, staring out at the horizon as though searching for something you couldn’t name.

It wasn’t grand gestures that softened you, truthfully, but his quiet consistency. The way he listened, the way he treated you as though you were more than a shadow. The way he looked at you, not with pity, but with reverence. You were not an afterthought to him; you… existed. Really, trully, existed within his eyes and he treated you as such.

And slowly, against all odds, you began to bloom again. A soft laugh here, a tentative question there. König never rushed you, only offered his steady patience and a safe space for you and only you.

They could only watch from the distant edges, the weight of their regrets pressing down on them like suffocating fog.

They tried to tell themselves it wasn’t too late, that they could still fix this. But every time they saw you smile at König, every time you turned to him instead of them, the truth became harder to ignore. They had chances once- countless chances- to reach out to you. To make things right. And they had squandered every single one and now there was just… nothing left.

And König? He was just waiting to finish this deplomatic meetings so he could take you with him to his nation. The divorce process should be easy to deal with, and he’d finally free you from this miserable life.

You would want for nothing with him, and he will ensure not a single rumor of your unhappiness will ever spread again.

[khioneee]

könig was a gentleman, no doubt about it. he’d open your jars without hesitation, offer you his jacket the moment you shivered, and god forbid you try to open a door—he’d sooner throw himself in front of a moving car than let you lift a finger. polite, chivalrous, and protective to the point of obsession.

könig was a gentleman.

but in bed, that facade shattered. in bed, könig was all man—fierce, raw, and possessive.

“mine,” he growled low in your ear, the word vibrating through you like a command. his voice dripped with ownership, each syllable leaving no room for argument. he wasn’t just saying it; he was declaring it, as if by the act alone, he had carved his name into your very soul.

and you would have denied it—if it weren’t true. no one else would ever fit where he’d been. no one else would ever reach where he’s been. not after him. you knew it, and he knew it. there was no going back now. you’re ruined for anyone else. so, as far as you were concerned, he better be planning to stay—because no one but könig could ever fill the void he left behind.

his cock twitched in response, like it was already considering going again, jerking slightly as you clenched around him. a warm trickle of his seed slipped from you, and the sight seemed to set him off all over again.

he grabbed your chin, rough and unrelenting, turning your face to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark and heavy with desire, an unquenchable hunger simmering beneath the surface.

“tell me it’s mine, maus,” he snarled, his voice sharp and desperate, like the words themselves could tether you to him forever.

and you knew—knew there was only one answer you could give, one that would satisfy the man hovering over you, his body tense with need and ownership.

“it’s yours,” you whispered breathlessly. “it’s always been yours.”

his lips curled into a satisfied, feral grin as if your words were the final piece to a puzzle he had already solved. there was no gentleness left in him now—only a man who knew he had claimed what was his.

[tinkertea]

MINORS DNI

FEEL GOOD

i've developed a fully fledged kink for men who wear masks, send help

synopsis: you make your boyfriend feel good after gym. pairing: könig x fem!reader warning: heavy petting; swearing category: smut word count: 814

He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his muscular legs spread wide enough so you could sit between them, his arms behind his head. It was ridiculous how good he looked, half-lidded eyes locked at you, watching your every move. His dark blonde hair was messy but you liked it, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as if suppressing a smirk at the way you were admiring him. No longer was your undivided attention making him nervous, no longer was he questioning whether you found his scars repelling. He knew you barely noticed them, rather focusing on the freckles, on his eyes, on him.

“You look good”, his smooth voice broke the silence. You knew he was right and König knew how lucky he was to have you sitting obediently in front of him, breasts almost spilling out of the black lace bra you had put on just for him. Your fingers were leisurely drawing patterns on his legs as your eyes met his. 

“D’you wanna touch me?”

You nodded, licking your lips at the thought of having your boyfriend at your mercy. He slightly tilted his head at you. “Go on then, Schöne. Make me feel good.”

You didn’t waste time and started to get him out of his training shorts that he had still been wearing. Your mouth watered at his muscular thighs – for some reason you had always found them particularly attractive, whether it was the way they flexed when he was fucking you in a hard but steady rythm or the way they felt when your barely clothed cunt was rutting against them. 

He was wearing grey boxers, a dark wet patch showed off just the effect you had on him. How could he ever deny how blessed he was by having such a gorgeous thing all for himself? Of course he got turned on by the way you greeted him impatiently at the door after he’d finally returned from the gym, your body clad in the black lace, your voice sweet like honey when you’d asked him “Do you like it, König? Bought it just for you” as you gently led him to the couch.

It was a silly question, really. You could tell by the outline of his growing member, by the way his pupils dilated, how his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips - he loved it. 

The groan he let out as you put your mouth on him - only separated by the fabric of his underwear - had you squeeze your thighs together but you were determined. He could feel your hot breath, your lips trying to suck through the fabric. It wasn’t enough, he needed more, more, more. There could never be enough of you.

König felt your lips turn into a smile, you were so cruel, enjoying his demise, his exterior cracking beneath your touch just like this. He had to press his eyes shut as need became a lump in his throat. “Fuck, scheiße, bi- please,” his voice jumped an octave higher.

It was tough to suppress a moan when his cock sprung free, you longed to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to taste him. It was addicting – how he melted beneath your touch, how his face was scrunched up when you hadn’t even done anything yet to warrant such a response. You were addicted to the power he allowed you to have in these rare moments, you were addicted to how he laid his vulnerability bare in front of you.

“I’ll make you feel good, my king, I promise,” you almost purred before licking from base to the top, following the prominent vein on the underside, getting him nice and slick, before licking the pre-cum off the beautiful pink tip. His breath hitched when you licked his slit, König’s hand roaming through your hair like it had a mind of its own before you gently took in your own and placed it on his knee. 

“Be good, my king,” you mumbled against his soft skin, taking as much as you could into your mouth. While your one hand held his fingers tight as you struggled with his length, your other toyed with his balls the way you knew he liked it. The moan that escaped him was enough to confirm this knowledge. “Fuck, fühlt sich das gut an,” he mumbled beneath his breath, his emerald eyes trained on you again. 

He couldn’t miss out on the magic unfolding in front of him. Though his arousal clouded his mind, he couldn’t help but notice how you squeezed your thighs, how your eyes were dark with lust as you enjoyed the taste of him. He was sure that by now you were seeping through the thin lace thong onto the hardwood floor. He didn’t mind one bit, he’d make you lick it clean later – before he’d feast on you himself.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Texting the COD men that you can’t pay rent!

Tags: COD men x fem!Reader, smau, suggestive, nsfw on soap’s slide, cursing, mdni

An: Based off of the tiktok trend :3 I wanted to do this with JJK men, but I think the COD men make it even funnier. This is also my first COD smau. I went with the characters that I’m most comfortable portraying. lmk if you want to see more of them or someone else!

Incl - Ghost, König, Price, Keegan, Soap

[cmterygrl]

thinking about... dry humping w/ könig

using his buldge to rub your clothed pussy against, frantically moving your hips to get any type of friction as he holds onto your hips and waist tightly, pressing you down against him just as desperate to feel you. the dampening spot on your underwear starts staining his boxers, his cock twitching against your clit while groans spill past his lips. he's calling you sweet names and rambling in german while absolutely losing his mind at how good this feels — he sees you impatiently moving your hips on top of him and practically starts drooling.

[musouie]

convinced that könig is the epitome of a “malewife”

he’ll get up at the crack of dawn to make you breakfast, something new every day, and give you a sloppy kiss before you’re out the door and off to work.

and while you’re out: he’ll sweep the floors, polish the countertops, even rearrange the pantry if it seems too cluttered and disorganised (by colour on the days that feel long), until he feels you’ll be satisfied.

he then lounges around, switches through television programmes or flips through a book he’s neglected since the day before. but when he grows especially restless, he settles instead for waiting by the door like some needy house-pet (which is fitting, isn’t it?)

and in the evening, if you return noticeably stressed, he’ll help you shed your coat, usher you to the sofa with a massive hand on your back, and listen attentively as you confide all your worries to him as he massages the supple flesh of your inner thigh.

and if that doesn’t work — if that stubborn crease between your brow has yet to ease — he’ll bury his head between your legs and eat you out so tenderly until you forget why you were tense in the first place.

he’ll lick eager stripes against your cunt, suckle on your clit, and lap up all the slick that drips from your hole and smears over his chin. he’ll do it all, until his jaw aches and his tongue is numb and his lips are swollen, and you’re a whimpering mess, fingers knotted in his hair and thighs trembling as they cage his head.

and when you’re done, and you’ve ridden out the last of your orgasm, he’ll swallow the cum in his mouth, wipe his lips, and smile as he asks you, “is that better, liebling?”

(he’ll ignore your whines and acknowledgements of his arousal-stained trousers, insisting that he derives pleasure from your satedness)

masterlist <3