#konig is grumpy

[iifishizzleii]

könig & gaz - first meet

rare ship alert lmao. unedited :]

könig, who’s sent by kortac (much to his displeasure) on a co-op with task force 141.

he doesn’t like how they work, how their attention will divert from the mission the moment it comes to protecting civilians.

if there’s a chance that innocent lives can be saved, könig will do what he can. but, he won’t compromise a mission over a few lives, because what’s war without sacrifice? (not that their sacrifice means anything in the end, but to be fair, if you see a group of military men rushing one way, why wouldn’t you run the other way?) he has a job, and it’s a job that pays him to take lives. not save them.

the 141, on the other hand, work like they are. and it’s fucking annoying because they suddenly have a conscious for the lives they’re taking, as if the soldiers they’d killed in the field weren’t civilians in gear— as if they weren’t men who were someone’s husband, son, or father. but what does könig know? he’s just a colonel who’s been on the field longer than even price.

(the truth is, könig wasn’t raised knowing the value of human life. his father hated his mother, and his mother hated that he looked like his father. when he was diagnosed with social anxiety, it was just a label to the skin-crawling feeling he got whenever somebody stared at him for too long, the fraying to his nerves when the voices around him made the ones in his head scream louder. people had never done könig any good in his life. so, what did they deserve from him?)

he was forced to a briefing with the 141, and they were as insufferable as he remembered. price, with his unintelligible bear grunting that had könig leaning left because the hearing in his right ear had dulled, and the odor of cigarettes and stress that always followed him. ghost, who‘s staring was like a dissection he felt tugging at every nerve, dull eyes watching könig from across the table in a way that made the taller man want to peel out his eyes. soap, the blabbering bastard that never knew how to sit still without brushing up cozy against the masked lieutenant. all three of them were ripe for early retirement by könig’s hand, testing him with every indirect jab and comment made at the expense of their former enemy. then, a fourth man könig hadn’t bothered sparing any attention for asks price and question, and he turns.

his name was gaz. that’s what könig was told, at least, though he doubted it was the brit’s real name. not that he gave a shit. and ‘gaz’ was no older than thirty five.

he stood to price’s right, staring down at the map on the table with a sharp focus könig noticed. and while they weren’t many things on this Earth he enjoyed, one thing könig could appreciate was a weapon that was as lethal as it was transfixing.

he has big, brown eyes that swam with emotion, something könig’s bitter heart wouldn’t know a thing about. full, tanned cupid bow lips twisted into a thoughtful frown as price and laswell discussed their plans for the mission. his skin was copper, unlike the pale complexions könig was accustomed to seeing on Al Mazrah and Ashika Island. he has thick brows and sharp nose, and when he folds his arms across his chest, his biceps bulge under the grey-blue button up shirt he wears. the curve of his ass and muscled thighs are hugged by his tactical cargo pants.

he wasn’t stocky like soap, nor was he as intimidatingly huge as price or ghost. it was anything larger in size, after all, that people’s attention naturally gravitated to. könig would know. and between the four of them, gaz sits directly in the middle of being physically dominating. and it’s that which interests könig, because while any other less experienced man would chalk gaz’s size up to his skill, he knew better. gaz had every good of a chance of killing him as the rest of the men did. maybe even more, now that könig was aware of how his presence effected the group, and how easily gaz could use to his advantage.

“hübsche klinge,” könig muttered under his breath.

but, awareness seemed to lose meaning as he watched the young man across the room, dark eyes trailing up the thin fabric stretched across gaz’s stomach before lowering to watch his narrow hips as shifts to face price.

then soap cracks a joke and könig would have condemned him for it, unused to such easy going attitude while prepping for a mission, but the sight of gaz’s lips uncurling into a the barest hints of grin make könig freeze. he’s a grown man for christ’s sake, a force of nature feared by enemies and revered by allies. not even the sight of a his own family’s mangled corpses could sway him.

yet, watching that small grin on gaz’s face bloom into a full smile, an exasperated but amused laugh escaping plush lips at soap’s joke, has könig tightening his fists at his side, tracking the way gaz’s eyes crinkle in the corner from the stretch of his smile, his arms unfolding just to refold them oppositely.

könig decides at that moment that out of all the 141, gaz would be the biggest hindrance.

[sunflowerzyk]

He's fed up

LinkTree

MasterList

Reblog for more<3

[nik-barinova]

The evolution of König x Cleric since 2023

[deathsprofit]

PChan squishing his cheek against Konig's mask and face. Aggressive nuzzle, enough to cause a fire - maybe. PChan's just showing his love to them all.

".................................you.." he thought anyone who isn't a soldier would be avoiding Konig at any cost. He didn't have any friends at all until he joined the military. But this guy is hugging him and showing him affection like that.

Huge muscular arms wrapped around the other as he smooched him from behind the mask. " ......are we friends?"

[gremlingottoosilly]

Deaf!Reader are struggling to earn money to pay off their rent and living expenses, by handing out leaflets on the street X Mafia!Konig

(one time, I was walking past the metro, and there was this lady handing out leaflets to men. I wanted to take the leaflet as well because I always wanted to help the people who were handing it out, but she looked at me super weirdly when I took the leaflet. Turns out, it was a leaflet for illegal prostitution sites (sex work is banned in Czech Republic) You just needed money. The disability payments are dogshit and wouldn't even cover half of the expenses of renting your own place - but all the other jobs are basically blocked to you on the basis of not having enough resources to support a deaf worker. You know it's just their saying, they simply don't want to hire you even for brownie diversity points - but still, the only jobs that you could get without much of an education is something as shitty paying as handing leaflets. At least you can just not read the lips of people who are clearly cussing you out for bothering them with an abysmal task of accepting a thing piece of paper. Only, the gig is just a bit too shitty. It's illegal; technically, sex work is still as banned as always - you stare at the leaflets with half-naked women printed all over, disguised as dating websites, and you want to puke over how fucking terrible it looks. Still, they were paying a bit more than usual, and cops won't bother you as long as it's not a direct sex work endorsement. The people on the streets are having weird reactions, however... Konig had a shitty day and an even more annoying night. Having to oversee a big drug deal himself because Horangi was out dealing with some transgressors, and Krueger can't be trusted with customer service, he had to stay awake at ungodly hours just to finish the deal...and now there is some dumb girl handling him a leaflet for his fucking sex business like she doesn't know who he is and can't hear that he said he doesn't want it three times already and- He notices the way you stare at his lips and ignore the yelling of other people crowding around during rush hour at the station. Oh. Konig guesses even the illegal business of his had to get more open for workers with disability...although he looks at your cute lips and just knows he is ready to promote you from handling leaflets to never holding anything heavier than his hand (and his cock) ever again. Needless to say, you were terrified when this big, grumpy man in a suit just fucking grabbed you hand and pushed you into an unmarked and clearly dangerous-looking vehicle. Of course, sometimes people are annoyed at receiving brochures, but not to the point of kidnapping...and certainly not to the point of bringing you to their lap and then forcing a hand between your legs, squeezing and playing with the flesh like you were nothing but a stress toy. Not being able to read his lips since you were pressed so closely to him, terrified you even more...although his intensions are pretty clear when you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead, and a gentle hold on your neck until you finally passed out in his hands.

[charliemwrites]

As promised some time ago: Gaz!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

Main Story | Price pt. 2

Masterlist

[diejager]

bro make a fanfic about the reader and the ghost/konig WHEN THE READER WAS SHOT IN THE BUN ON THE MISSION AHAHAHHHAH LMAO (in the military helicopter when they were supposed to return, the reader was holding her butt, moaning, writhing in pain and trying to hide the pain)

That is a funny thought…

Shots Cw: gun violence, bb shots, tell me if I missed any.

You yelped when you were hit is the ass, flinching forward and raising your arm just as you turned to glare at whoever landed the shot. Your right cheek exploded in soreness, tingling from the sharp pain of a BB shot.

“Hit!” You called it, letting your rifle hang from your shoulder as you rubbed your right cheek, grumbling about the bastard, “On my fucking ass of all places.”

You walk towards the respawn with your arm up, still cussing out whoever shot you in the ass. You had a hunch about the shooter: Soap, who else had enough courage to shoot you in the ass. You doubted Gaz did it, he might’ve been tempted, but he preferred other type of pranks, more mischievous ones like tampering with the washer or drinks, harmless but hilarious. Soap, however, rarely knew the limit, going as far as stealing and hiding your stuff, tapping you in the ass or messing up your head while he cackled away, speeding off to Ghost or Price to escape your wrath.

You reasoned that this was a staged scenario, a small group activity Laswell came up with that landed your Task Force somewhere in France for game of airsoft, a Free for all in the reserved location. No one had complained, thinking it a good activity mixing fun, training and awareness —everyone agreed to it enthusiastically once Ghost had voiced his grumpy acceptance, seeing this as a moment to be able to training without the prying eyes of others or the presence of strangers. Once you reached the spawn point, your jump back in to land a few shots at Soap to see whether or not he liked getting his ass bruised by a BB. You walked off determined, mind narrowed down to a single goal, your retaliation—

Until you yipped a second time, a pellet bouncing off your second cheek. You whipped around, yelling as your eyes scoured the tree line and the openings in the buildings behind you, the windows, the roof and behind pillars. You couldn’t find Soap anywhere, he wasn’t hiding behind the trees or in the buildings, but you did catch the glint of a scope —a familiar sniper scope.

“Ghost, you son of a bitch!” You screamed in outrage, feeling how both cheeks throbbed with pain. You bared your teeth, hissing at your Lieutenant who seemed smug and comfortable in his high perch on the roof of the building, “Why’d you do that?! I was already out!”

”Big target, luv,” his amused voice cracked in your comm, the low rumble of sadistic pleasure ringing out in your headgear. He cocked his scope, his white mask standing starkly in his dark gear and broad figure, “Impossible to miss. Quit moaning.”

“Big target? Are you-!” Huffing at his continued laughter, you glared his way before you turned to hurry back to the respawn, “Let’s see who’s laughing later, you ass.”

“Fuck- Hit!”

Your shoulders shook with restrained laughter, admiring the way Ghost jumped from your perch, hidden in the darkness given by the cement wall. You listened to him hiss and swear, massaging the place you aimed for: the pronounced curve of his ass, his jeans rarely doing him the pleasure of hiding what he had.

“Quit moaning, Ghost,” you cackled as you parroted his words, telling him the same thing as he told you, but you had more to add, more to taunt and tease him as revenge, “Couldn’t miss it, Lt, it was a big fucking target.”

You watched him stomp off, retreating to the tree line for his spawn point. It filled with a sense of elation and ugly smugness, and all that was left now, was to find Soap.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny’s yelp felt more exciting than Ghost, something you could devour over and ove without regret.

“Not so fun, is it, Johnny?” You smirked, replying with a gleeful tone.

He looked red-faced, the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red from the way you spoke to him, utilising his known weakness and playing him to watch him stutter and flush brightly.

“Awa’ a bile yer heid! That hurt, lass!” His voice had taken a whinier tone, face screwed in embarrassment and something that you couldn’t put your finger on at this distance.

“I know, shouldn’t have shot me in the ass then.”

Gaz tapped you on the shoulder, a smile threatening to break into chuckles. He’d known what happened to you and knew what you did in retaliation, finding amusement after siding with you, sitting beside you and peering at two frowning and mumbling men.

“Heard you had a lot of fun.”

“Not enough.”

You thought you heard Price sigh tiredly.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[celestialprincesse]

WHEN I SAY NEED I MEAN NEED!!

The 141 + Konig with their s/o wearing a pheromone perfume just to tease them or simply just for fun to see their reaction while they are turning FERAL to get another wiff of that addictive smell.

(u could just skip this but if you have free time and willing to is an absolute)

Thank yew besty, i can sleep in peace now. 😌

Anon baby?! You cute toot little genius megamind?! Also I can't believe this is my first time writing for König? Anywho💕

Price buys all of his s/o's perfumes, knows the scents they like and their favourite notes and therefore buys them a perfume for every occasion or at any airport duty free he manages to browse. Because of this, he has a tendency to bury his nose in their neck, or kiss the insides of their wrists, the smell of them alone allowing him to think back to the day they got married or the night he proposed. When he stuffs his nose between the crook of their neck and their hair, and doesn't recognise the scent they're wearing, he's immediately confused, leaving his face smooshed against them whilst he tries to work out what it is they're wearing that smells so delicious. They're just trying to reply to some emails whilst he's literally got his face buried in the back of their neck, sniffing loudly as he tries to get their attention. "You got new perfume?" He grumbles lustfully, voice halfway between a low grunt and a breathless rumble. "Mhm. You like it?" "Smells fuckin' delicious - smells like sex." "Sex?" You giggle incredulously. "Sex. Speaking of which, come to bed."

Gaz loves when the smell of his s/o lingers around their home and reminds him of them. He loves when his head hits the pillow of the bed and their sweet shampoo lingers in their shared space, or when he puts on one of the hoodies they've borrowed and it still smells of them. When he comes home from an errand to them sat watching their favourite show on the TV, he practically lays on top of them like some kind of human weighted blanket, stuffing his face up their shirt with a deep sigh. "Smell good." He grumbles into the warm skin of their sternum. "Yeah?" Your hum, scratching your nails soothingly into his scalp, to which he only gives a contented hum of approval. He spends the afternoon just sort of nosing at their skin, and ends up falling asleep in their shirt.

Johnny is just generally feral. This man uses all of their fancy creams and lotions, just generally doesn't share the boundaries that some couples would have. He'd spot the perfume on their bathroom counter straight away, probably brush it off too. He doesn't really pay it much mind how good they smell until they're both pottering around the kitchen together making dinner. He'll just sort of inch closer until he's grabbing their wrist where they've spritzed a tiny bit of the perfume that morning and proceeded to forget about it. He's so weird about showing his affection too, probably nipping at them and licking them throughout the day, confused as to why they're more alluring and attractive than normal. His mind races with thoughts of maybe they're ovulating or he's got some kind of weird hormonal guy thing going on. Whatever it is, he's all over them all evening, and practically pawing their clothes off when they get to bed.

Simon gets grumpy when he can't control himself around them. He's a man who prides himself on his ability to remain stoic and impassive, not to mention the fact that he hates feeling like some out of control, lovesick teenage boy. He gets all huffy and puffy, and his s/o is like genuinely concerned for him, so much so that he walks in on them in the bathroom scrubbing at their neck and wrists with a loofah. "The fuck are you doing?" He grunts with an inquisitive, amused raise of his eyebrow. "I - um - spilled something?" "Like that 'pheromone' stuff I got the purchase notification on my bank app for?" "Whaaaaaat? No! Maybe." He just sort of chuffs at their oversight, and the fact that he'd literally seen them browsing these faddy pheromone perfumes on the sofa right beside him.

König literally is just an animal. This man has very limited social decorum as is, at home? Yeah, no, gone. His boundaries are non existent, and he has a tendency to paw at his s/o, slip his hands down their pants or up their shirts daily. Wearing pheromone perfume doesn't help their cause. He spends the day following them around the house like a needy puppy, whining when they swat him away so that they can work or cook or go to the bathroom. He acts all grumbly and wounded and pathetic, and they promptly hide the pheromone perfume, deeming it more of a hindrance than a help, although it is kind of entertaining to see their nearly seven foot, sniper boyfriend so needy over something that they thought was a total scam. It doesn't stop him from practically dragging them to bed by the scruff of their neck, huffing about how he's been wanting them all day.

[lily-lovelyy]

𝕽𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓

Warnings; smut, violence, gore, talk of virginity loss, virginity loss, breeding kink, kidnapping?(Technically), grumpy reader, Roman!Konig

Part 1 of ???

I am very excited to get started on this, I've always liked the old Roman Konig prompts! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

You'd head stories, hell all of your village people had. The legend of a Roman champion, who took down entire cities and killed armies single-handed.

You yourself always rolled your eyes or snickered when you heard these tales, because 'who could conquer an entire army by himself?'.

You soon figured that out, two soldiers threw you to the ground, the dirt grooving it's way under your fingernails. Your wet, tear stained face felt burning hot and your head hung, too nervous to look up.

"Salută-ți regele." One of the soldiers behind you spoke, his boot kicking your leg, bringing a stinging pain through it. You sniffled, slowly moving your eyes up to greet his pale blue ones.

He was big, so big. Bigger than any soldier here. He looked out of place, as if he was a god standing amongst men. Scars littered his exposed arms, but you couldn't see past his shrouded face.

"Ach, was hast du mir heute mitgebracht?" The man asked, looking at the two soldiers behind him. "O curvă." They spoke, your brows furrowed trying to understand their foreign tongue.

The man looked you up and down, finally deciding to take a seat. He huffed, almost as if he was annoyed with their presence. "Verlass uns." He spoke again, making a waving motion with his hand.

The two men grunted before turning away and leaving. You watched him with watchful eyes, wondering what he would do next. Take you as a slave? Rape you? Kill you? Your mind raced, terrified.

After a few more moments, he flicked his wrist, motioning for you to stand. He stalked towards you, and you tried to back away before he took hold of your arm in an almost bruising grip. "Hübsch." He spoke, almost fondly. You wished you'd understood his native tongue.

"W-what?" You whispered, your tears flowing freely again. Was he demanding something of you? He tilted his head, his eyes scrunching with what seemed to be amusement.

"Ein süßer Kleiner, perfekt für mich." He chuckled, before leading you over to the large expanse of his bed, which was covered in large and luxurious furs. You wondered how many people he had killed to get those.

You breathed unevenly, this was the moment you dreaded, he was going to rape you. Your tears fell harder, you tried to stifle your sobs to the best of your ability. His head cocked to the side, and he walked over to the table, picking up a pitcher and pouring water into a small, clay cup.

He walked over, handed it to you and waited. He watched until you finally brought it to your lips, drinking in deeply. "Thank you.." you whispered, handing the cup back. He smiled, you thought since you couldn't tell other than from his eyes.

Slowly, he began to undress, your heart sank. You couldn't possibly fight him off, he was at least four times your size, built of muscle and strength.

You froze, staring at him in fear. All you could do was try and brace yourself the best to your ability for what was coming, slowly, he sauntered over to you. He was built with muscle, towering over you. Scars also littered his torso and his legs and arms. He looked like he's gone to battle many times.

He reached the bed, extending a hand to caress your face. He brought his face down, breathing in your scent. You shook with fear. Slowly, he lowered himself to knees, spreading your dress open to reveal your bare cunt. Undergarments were a luxury your family weren't able to afford. At least when they were alive.

"p-please...don't..." You hiccupped, trying your best to scramble away. The man looked up at you and stood. His head cocking to the side, questioningly. "Du meinst...nein?" He wondered, before nodding to himself and redressing. You sat there, shocked.

By now, most if not all of the men in his camp would have beaten and raped you bloody, but why'd didn't he? You were thankful regardless. "Du hast ... Angst. Ich werde dir etwas Zeit allein geben, Kleines." He spoke, before moving the flap of his tent and leaving.

Moments after he left, you sobbed loudly, your body wracking with sobs and cries. You felt grief flood you, the death of your family, of your chief and your friends. Your village had barely made it through the fall, your crops dying and the soil becoming dry and dead from the lack of rain, only to be slaughtered by the Romans.

You laid back, holding yourself as you cried. And slowly, you cried yourself to sleep, huffing slow and uneasy breaths as you let sleep take you.

★★★

This is the first part/chapter so let me know what you think of it! The German/Romanian is also roughly translated so don't quote me on some of this! 😭💗

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I can see konig being a total perv when his wife is pregnant. 😭

Like, he has his eyes on her chest like 24/7 and is amazed by how much her breast grew. And be turned on by her hips growing too.

Since he's territorial, just the thought of the reader carrying his child would make him go wild. Like them making a child together and joining bloodlines? Her body is going through all these changes because of him? I know he's heavy breathing just thinking abt it 😭.

Mm-hmm 😳 *nodding furiously*

König is a boobs man, I fear, and seeing her breasts getting bigger and heavier makes him feel dizzy in the head. And he's been through a lot, raged on the battlefield while bullets scrape his flesh and hit his vest and he has never ever gotten dizzy. Not even when they pumped him full of morphine after somebody shot him in the ass.

He vaguely knew that his woman would go through some changes but this… this is like Christmas and all his birthdays combined.

He has trouble concentrating on what she's saying because those plump things are right there and his hands are twitching from the urge to paw them. Just admire them all day, perhaps fall asleep on them...

And hell yes he was heavy breathing at the thought and now it's actually happening. She's carrying his child, getting bigger with it every day. The baby must be big and strong, has his genes, it seems! It’s probably a boy. A girl would be much more adorable, though... Either way, König is going to be so proud.

And he's so proud of his wife, too. König gets odd satisfaction when she has trouble rising from the bed or a chair when she's in the late stages of her pregnancy. He's only pleased when she complains about back pains and is starting to get hella grumpy. He admires her for going through all that suffering to give birth to his child. Things are just as they should be! He’s doing his duty on the battlefield while his angel is carrying his child.

He pampers her, of course, for being so good for him. König tries to ensure that his wife has everything she needs and asks about the baby and her health every time he sees her. When she's given birth and is ready for him again, perhaps he will put another one inside her ❤️

[gremlinmodetweeker]

How would konig behave with reader being mad/upset w him??

Okay so this goes two ways. One is when he doesn't think it's serious, and the other way is how he is when he genuinely thinks there's a major issue.

So if it's something small and you tell him that it's something small, he will be a total ass. Like, he digs his heels in and gets all stubborn and grumpy about it because he's the man of the house and it's his way or the highway (read: fix it yourself). If you can't fix it yourself, he'll help, but he'll be complaining the whole way like an angry old man. He's an angry old man at heart, and I believe in this headcanon deep within my soul.

So if it's small, he just is annoying to deal with because he's stubborn and grumpy. He'll budge if you really need him to do something, but he won't be tripping over himself to make it up to you.

However, when it's something serious (a 'we need to talk' type of conversation), he will be the one to make you talk. You can't avoid an insertion specialist. He will barge into your life and there's nothing you can do about it.

Like when he's angry (as discussed in this post) he will sit down and talk. If you need space, he'll give you space, but he expects you to tell him when you're ready to talk. If you try shaking him off and don't tell him the problem, he can't help you. If you don't say what's wrong, he can't read your mind so he can't help. He's a man, not a magician.

He is a good listener though. He'll listen to what you have to say and he'll try to find solutions. If there's something he needs to change, he will either do his best to change or, if he can't, he'll be honest with you and try to find another solution. He's a firm believer in compromises in relationships.

So ultimately, if it's something like 'König please stop hogging all the blankets' he's going to consider that a you problem. An issue not an ish-me, ya feel? If it's something like 'I don't like it when you do x because it reminds me of y', then he'll be there to hash it out and figure out solutions. He's too practical to be in that sort of drama.

Fundamentally, if it's a big issue, he'll do what he can to make things right. He values relationships more than most, so he'll do what he can to treasure his relationship with you.

[iifishizzleii]

take of the day:

replacing gaz with könig ❌

placing gaz WITH könig ✅

[callsignhood]

love the way you draw unmasked Konig! especially love the way you draw his chompers in your more unhinged pieces of him. (real 'oh you're such a handsome young man! can you give us a biig smile? oh!' kinda feeling)

He just came back from a mission and is grumpy, so he said nuh-uh (lol) (yes I’m stuck at this pose hdhhdgdgsgstst)

[nik-barinova]

I can’t decide which version I like better of König and my OC

[gremlingottoosilly]

Monster!König x Fox!Reader who likes to playfully flirt with him, but runs away when things get too serious. Reader’s just bored and her favorite form of entertainment is getting the grumpy colonel to blush.

You're a honeypot, a flirt, tease. Your job is to jump on some dumb monster hybrids and seduce them. Hands-on, their necks, looking up to the traitors of the nation. Konig isn't a traitor, but you still flirt with him. He deserves to have someone who will tease him for being alive, you think. Deserves someone to give him the knowledge that even the colonel isn't immune to being a blushing mess under his hood. Your hands dance on his chest, your neatly trimmed but still sharp little claws digging into the tense muscles. You tilt your head to the side and ask if the colonel needs a massage - he looks so tense, so nervous all of the time. Never looks you in the eyes, makes the girl in you go a bit self-conscious. You have a few spare minutes, and so you drag your fluffy tail across his thigh, "accidentally" touching his groin. He flinches, the tent in his pants becoming more and more obvious - you smile, getting even closer to him. Konig is close to his rut, mating season for eldritch hybrids getting closer and closer - you know you're playing with fire, but the base was outright boring lately, and you needed someone to play with.

You just didn't know he'd be tired of your games so quickly. Mushing your tail in his hands, getting a yelp out of you - you whimper, trying to wiggle your ass out of his grasp, but he is too firm. Presses his hands all over you and forces you to take him in, take him fully. Doesn't even bother with taking his cock out, fucking you with his slick, coated in some dripping goo, tentacles. The worst thing about monsters like him - he can get horny in an instant, forcing you to take his cock like a good little fox and stop teasing your dear colonel. You can huff and yelp for others to come and get you, but the base was tired of your antics.

[rookiesbookies]

The difference between Krueger and Konig with their darlings.

Thank you @shotmrmiller for listening to my ramblings

The difference between Konig and Krueger with their darlings is a bit crazy.

Konig was so rude when he first met his darling, talking down to her. However, a Konig who is teary after his first rut. His benevolent sexism makes him feel awful for using such a delicate and sweet creature for his gross needs. His anxiety feeding him thoughts that he may have hurt his darling, that she is too pretty for him, that her situation may have made her have to sign up for this job when she may not have even wanted it, and how she must view him as such a vile monster.

Almost all of that melts away when his darling reaches under his hood and rubs his face, running her fingers through his hair. She tells him how grateful she is that he was so careful with her in such an intense moment, how grateful she is that he didn’t judge her body. His eyes widen as he realizes she understands. The next few hours were full of sweet conversations and bonding.

Krueger who is so rude as well, but has no benevolence. That a woman is a distraction from his work. That his frustrations of any kind or taken out on the field.

Krueger, who his darling finds sitting outside her bedroom door in the early mornings, mask clutched tightly in his hands, eyes blown out and down right begging. He won’t say it, he wont apologize to a woman, but he needs NEEDS his darling he understands why she’s needed now. His hand, now well washed from the sink in his bathroom, was not enough. He’s telling her to let him just touch her, but he wouldn’t without her permission. He’s only running his hands over her forearms, grinding lazily against her pajamas pants the first time he ends up needing her. He cums in his pants and threatens her before leaving, some bullshit about how she will never tell anyone if she wants to live.

A Kruger, who now gets sexual satisfaction just from her scent. He’s addicted to her, she brings him comfort, yet he has no clue how to express it properly so he comes off angry and mean. She can see in his eyes he’s not, she just wishes he could say it to her.

Krueger who tries desperately to ask Konig how he got his darling to be so obedient. Not knowing how soft Konig is with her, and not knowing how to ask without sounding condescending.

Konig who acts all tough and rude but in reality he’s reaching behind him to hold her foot while sitting in this meeting because she’s his emotional support animal (like Jelly Roll and Bunny when he presented at the senate (i think it was the senate))

Konig, who won’t dare tell Krueger that the only reason his darling always knows is because he got those stupid couples bracelets off tiktok so he can press the button and her’s lights up. She presses it the first time to let him know she saw it, pressing a second time when she’s near. Sometimes he makes it light up just to let her know he needs her in that moment, sometimes its just to sit there and exist near him, sometimes its standing outside the door looking in the glass where he can see her when he talks in a meeting, sometimes it’s rubbing his back and holding his hand in stressful training with new recruits, sometimes he needs her sexual right then in there.

All Krueger sees is that every time Konig needs her, his darling is there and Krueger craves it.

Konig tries to tell him without telling him that he melted into the arms of his darling, but Krueger won’t understand it unless told straight up.

Krueger who goes to his darling to try to talk but finds her door unlocked and her laying in her bath.

“Are you-”

“I’m just incredibly sore.” She hummed, head propped on the edge of the tub with a towel and a cool wash cloth over her eyes.

“I-”

“They said in your file you wouldn’t apologize, so don’t bother trying.” She grumbled.

“If you know-”

“Why do I seem so grumpy?” She mocked, taking the wash cloth off her face. “I’m doing you a favor and I still get called a whore.” She said, putting her pointer finger to his chest.

There was silence.

Kruger who is trying to make you understand the way Konig made his darling understand but he has no clue how gentle Konig is with her, nor does he understand the chaos in Konig’s head when his darling isn't near brought on by his monster. Krueger, who does everything but beg and plead and cry to Konig about it, asking how he did it because his darling is so hateful and he hates it because he knows he caused it.

“I’m sorry for how I was.” He mumbled, not meeting her eyes. He didn’t see them soften as she got up to leave. She was too shocked to go after him, too sore to chase him, too naked and wet to do anything.

He locked her door and closed it as he stepped out, a small act of kindness that she didn’t realize until someone tried to open it as she was getting dressed later to give her papers.

She slipped a little sticky note written with words of forgiveness on it under his door later that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to be jealous of Konig anymore.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!