#lieutenant givens

[juliaaadoodles]

🔃

[lesbiancolumbo]

exchanges that will make you go crazy if you think about them a little too hard!!!

[chiropteracupola]

spooky scary sleepover

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea]

[whatudottu]

I don't have too much context on the Aligned books, but a part of me thinks that the reason why the Decepticons in TFP are a bit more hesitant to actually accept Starscream as a leader (an official one when Megatron was found comatose rather than a temporary one while Megatron was soul searching) is because of his status of being forged and alloted as a military bot, whether it's seeker high command or what.

The Decepticons in Aligned started because Megatron was a charismatic gladiator from the pits of Kaon, speeches like poetry and ideology loud and proud. A lot of mecha see him as the face of the 'Cons (despite their symbol being clearly Soundwave's face) even if Megatron's grasp on tactics had to be learned in a fight never flight scenario that the pits put him through. When it comes to being a functional leader, Megatron barely knows anything and is leading by being essentially a figurehead though if you brought that up he'd slay you the instant you spoke, which would probably be the reason WHY Megatron insists of having Starscream be his Second in Command despite all his treachery.

The Decepticons feel that they NEED Megatron, for having anyone else be in charge would feel like hypocrisy, the closest anyone would ever get to being a leader based purely on being a model Decepticon would probably be a Vehicon which well... 1) they'd have to outclass Megatron's very impressive charisma, and 2) Vehicons don't have the best eh track record of being treated well. And seeing that Megatron NEEDS a competent Second in Command, competent enough to plan out strategies he wasn't forged (or constructed) to train in, the second element in play perhaps is the satisfaction of being of higher rank than a military bot. And I'm not pulling that shitty 'exotic bird' seeker shit in here, seekers aren't an entirely different species or worse a fucking animal species (it's a job, it's a rank, it's a role, etc), but who wouldn't feel even a remote sense of accomplishment, glee, whatever at having to fight tooth and nail to get to the very top of something and having someone that didn't have to work hard to be good under your command?

And that shit pisses of Starscream so fucking bad.

As the SiC, Starscream can preen all he likes about suggested strategies and pathways and general other management duties of an entire army (or at least to the sphere of influence the Nemesis holds), but it is Megatron with the final word. Like a rich idiot CEO flaunting their power and kicking dirt into their adviser's eyes, Megatron still has the mindset of a gladiator, has only the experience of a gladiator that Starscream gawks in horror at. To be fair, in combat (even in minor activities like fencing and mind combat like chess) you fear the amateur that knows no opening strategies for if the beginner has no strategy how can you outplay them, but that would only work up until a certain extent. Sometimes games of combat last near forever, a complicated battle between winning and losing of micromanaging fleets and squads to correctly combat the enemy, other times you make a fatal error, exposing your weak spot and cringing as the knife sinks deep.

If Starscream ever were to permanently take over the Decepticons as their leader, he would have far more foresight in planning - as evident by his competence at the beginning of TFP whereby he, the entire Nemesis, and their mining operations went undiscovered for years - and probably needle the Autobots with far less casualties between engaging and victory. However, he from his background is not representative of the Decepticons, for he came from something. Starscream did not battle his way to the top, not in the same way Megatron had to in the pits, nor did he battle his way into the Decepticons, he from memory was purposefully sought after. Hell, given his tendancies as SiC already giving Starscream a bad rep with many a 'Con, Starscream isn't as... not liked (Megatron would hardly be considered 'likeable') but... compelling, as grandiose of a leader as Megatron had built himself to perfectly appeal to an audience.

They need each other to rule, and the saddest part of TFP and it's characterisation is that statement is inherently contradictory. Neither can stand being in the same room as the other, there is a significant power imbalance between the two and frankly? Their mutual dysfunction working with one another is detrimental to the effectiveness of the Decepticon High Command.

As it is in canon, it's eh not the easiest to watch. Megatron makes the dumbest decisions and Starscream has to pull a plan out of his ass to make it better, or Starscream gets over ambitious and Megatron feels threatened and sets everything back to the status quo in the way a gladiator does.

I think that it might've been cool, interesting maybe, if the Megatron and Starscream had a more balanced dynamic. Megatron cannot have a Second in Command that doesn't know what they're doing, cannot have one that doesn't take initiative and seize the moment; Soundwave isn't a military bot, Airachnid's impulse is to run away to try again. Starscream cannot hold an audience, he cannot inspire troops with a rags to riches story he himself does not have; Vehicons have less power in their voice fresh off the assembly line, they are the people Megatron inspires.

Maybe in some universe where the Decepticons are more akin to a fucked up family, this could be... something better. idk... I just think it's interesting.

[alphagirl404]

Part 2 of the Timeline where Mattias escaped the forest with Agnarr & Iduna

This becomes a bit of a regular occurrence

[wexhappyxfew]

sobel telling nixon that it is in fact not a can of peaches that he is holding though it is very well a can of peaches, is genuinely one of the funniest things i stg 💀

[listenupcupcakes]

WHY ARE ALL THE TF2 ASK BLOGS GETTING SHRUNK OR GROWN!?!? WHAT IS UP WITH PEOPLE???

also omggg! little toy solcher! you should ride lieutenant bites into battle like a grey stallion! BITE THOSE WRECHED BLUS ANKLES!

I DO NOT KNOW! A NON-MERASMUS WIZARD WAS DOING SOMETHING FOR REASONS UNRELATED TO ME

AND THEN A JESTER MADE ME SMALL.

MEDIC HAD A CORN THING.

SADLY I AM STILL TOO BIG TO RIDE ON LIEUTENANT BITES.

[anglbrkr]

can i get uuuhhhhh, general x recruit reader?? but like, dom/sub, and readers a twink who does whatever the general wants :3

Yes Sir.

Out of all of the things i expected people to request, that wasn't one of them for sure. what a weirdo you are, who in their right mind is attracted to anyone in the army🤢🤮

Content Warning: abuse of power, but that's pretty obvious, uuuhhh, giving oral to a loaded gun, thats something yall should be warned about ig, mentions of bleeding while giving oral, but dw its brief and bc of a dick not a firearm. General possessiveness, reader is amab and a twink ass bitch who does wtv hes told

If you see a typo feel free to hunt my editor/proof reader for sport

2.7k words

The sunset barely peaks past the clouds, to the point where having a face pressed against the damp earth is as close as one would get to see a smidge of orange against an oppressive gray. The clouds themself, heavy with rain, caress the tips of cabins, descending low enough to cover the camp in a thick fog.

Despite this, dozens of heavy boots stomp through the grounds, a clear disdain in the eyes of the campers as the whistle blows for them to continue. It's not that they just can't see, but the heat has their shirts stuck to their skin, the heavy fabric of their camo pants giving them no relief. It is by far the worst midday of July, and they’re not dismissed until nightfall.

[N]’s luck was ultimately up for debate. On one hand, he’s in here, in the Lieutenant’s well-air-conditioned office, and has been for most of the day. On the other hand, he’s on his knees, the older man’s handgun is pressed against his lips, his cold eyes staring down at him in an manic look on his stoic face.

He can’t hide the way his body shakes, his tongue tracing the dull edges of the barrel, lips awkwardly surrounding it—it's the expected reaction when giving oral to a loaded gun. He brings more of it into his mouth, going as far as the trigger guard would allow him, fleetingly meeting Lieutenant Harper’s gaze, only for his mind to go blank again; fear mixing with sexual excitement. His dick stirs inside his briefs as the warm metal meets the back of his throat, but he ignores it completely. Gagging slightly, he pulls away from the weapon, gasping for breath after nearly choking himself. A small trail of spit remains between his lips and the pistol.

"You did well," The Lieutenant says in a slow, monotonous voice. "But I know you can do better."

With shaking hands, [N] wipes his mouth clean with the bottom half of his shirt before kissing the tip of the barrel once again, sucking it slowly without thought. He does so much better than last time. With each moment that passes through, he finds his arousal increasing. If he were anyone else, he'd be disgusted with what was happening, but these past few weeks have changed his opinion of the Lieutenant's actions.

There's an extra edge to it, having watched the man load the magazine beforehand, his finger precise as he watched the clip slide into the barrel before he pressed it against [N]’s mouth. There's a dark side to the man, one [N] is all too aware of. But for some reason, even with a gun in his mouth, he can’t find reason to care.

Harper takes hold of [N]'s chin and lifts his head from the gun, forcing him to meet his eyes as he continues speaking in the same low, husky voice. "I told you to do better," he says, a tone of irritation evident in it. The recruit physically shivers, nodding his head to the captain. To his best ability, he tries to apologize even with the tip of the gun pressed against his lips and his hazy eyes meeting those cold ones.

"Yes, Sir," He attempts, licking his lips.

His body is hot and damp; he has no control over it at this point, even with the blared air conditioner, his skin is scorching under his gaze. It's almost like a need to please, to make up for his own discomfort. Slowly, he lowers his head on the firearm, feeling the smooth metal slide against the roof of his mouth once more, his tongue following after in the wake of the weapon.

"That's a good boy," He whispers, free hand petting [N]'s head, "Don't be ashamed of how much you like this."

[N] shudders slightly as Harper speaks, an embarrassing amount of drool dripping down his chin. He kisses down until he reaches the barrel, and his tongue darts out as soon as contact is made, exploring every surface he can get to while sucking the metal, his saliva lubricating it enough to make it easy to swallow. It takes a moment before he can pull back again, Harper letting him catch his breath between each cycle, but the Lieutenant doesn't stop until [N] does himself. He pulls away slowly, looking up at his boss, eyes wide, a thin trail of drool clinging to his bottom lip. The older man is clearly aroused by what he sees.

[N] swallows as best he can before returning his head to the pistol. Harper watches intently as he licks and sucks on the gun, moaning softly into the muzzle before pulling back. If his free hand wasn't busy petting at [N]'s head, Harper's sure he'd be palming himself to the sight, his cock hardening inside his fatigues, his own lips moist from the spit from licking his lips.

"Good boy," He whispers, "You’ve come a long way since you first started, hmm?."

 [N]’s arousal has been at its peak for quite some time now. The hardness between his legs is getting heavier with every moment that passes, and he tries to ignore it, concentrating instead on the warm metal between his lips. The seams of his slacks press against his cock at just the right angle, to the point where he doesn’t even need to grind against it—keeping his hips in place as he bobs his head.

His 'relationship' with Lieutenant Harper's been explicit since the third week of camp, ever since the man caught sight of [N]'s physical differences from the other recruits. He was a lot smaller than them, thinner, and far more feminine in his facial features. He stuck out like a sore thumb for most of his training. The Lieutenant wasn't shy to berate him for it either, forcing him to go harder, faster. It came to the point where he would personally train [N], making him run until he collapsed, pushing him to exhaustion just so that the man could get his rocks off by watching. The constant orders and commands left [N] frustrated at first, but after a while, he just did as he was told, like a sick pavlovian response. He’d jump off a cliff if the Lieutenant asked in the right tone.

It was a few days after [N] gave his best effort at running around the camp that Harper caught him in the barracks. He'd just finished bathing when the man walked into the empty showers without warning, eyes roaming over [N]'s lean body in the dim light, taking note of what the recruit was hiding beneath his uniform. A thin towel hung around his neck, and another hid his lower half from view. He stepped closer, and [N] didn't move away, by now, he’d known better than to do that. When the Lieutenant ordered him to drop to his knees and open his mouth, [N] compiled without hesitation. The man then began unbuckling his belt, his cock throbbing, a thick bead of pre-cum gathering at the tip, and sliding down towards [N]'s waiting lips. It was only after [N] felt seed stick to his skin did he realize what had happened.

Focusing on the present, [N] licks the barrel with his tongue once more, his cheeks burning as he does so, eyes sliding down to the Lieutenant's crotch, the dark fabric of his pants doing nothing to conceal what was hidden beneath it. The outline was so evident,, hardening even more as he lightly thrust his hips into the air, in sync with [N]'s sucking. The recruit gags, his head slightly as the warm metal meets the back of his throat again, this time a little roughened, but he doesn’t falter like before. His lips slide down, swallowing it deeper, moaning softly around it, the odd flavor of it invading his taste buds.

"Just a little more," Harper murmurs. "Then you'll have my cock instead."

[N] nods, opening wide and having his tongue caress the firearm once more before pulling back, leaving behind a trail of spit that dribbles from his bottom lip and down the side of the gun. His breath hitches and his dick aches between his legs, but he ignores it all, concentrating on pleasing his Lieutenant. Harper watches him in silence as he continues licking at the gun, taking it deep into his mouth and letting it rest on the back of his throat for a few moments, hollowing his cheeks before pulling back. With one final moan, he pulls back once more, taking another gulp of air and wiping the sweat off of his face with the bottom half of his shirt.

"Good boy," He says in a low voice, reaching over to unzip his pants. The older man pulls his cock free with an audible sound, revealing its length and thickness to [N]. It's impressive, thick and uncut, the tip glistening with precum that dribbled out onto his underwear. He sits still on his knees, waiting for Harper to take command. The Lieutenant stands from his chair, towering over [N] and placing a hand on his chin before forcing the recruit to look up at him, Harper then grabs hold of his dick in his fist, guiding it towards his lips. [N] groans as the head brushes against his mouth, wet from his own saliva.

"Don't get shy on me," He whispers. "A good slut like you can take it all in."

[N] licks his lips before taking the head of his Captain's dick between his lips, gently sucking it into his mouth. He starts slowly and deliberately, taking the first couple of inches into his mouth feeling his shaft get even harder under his touch. The Lieutenant moans lowly as the requiem's lips slide around his member, his lips pursed tight enough to have his cock loose circulation. Soon, the Lieutenant is pushing him further down, and [N]'s lips are pressed firmly against the base of his cock. Pretty eyes stare up at Harper, eyelashes fluttering with every bob of his head. The man lets him continue for a moment, stroking his head with one hand while the other begins rubbing [N]'s shoulder, his touch strangely soft and affectionate.

He pushes him further, fingers digging into his scalp as [N] takes in more than half of his dick in his mouth, the sensation of it invading his throat sending shivers down his spine.

"That's it, pretty boy, just take it all." He murmurs petting [N]'s cheek. [N] continues to suck slowly on the hard cock in front of him, feeling a slight throbbing sensation building in his balls that grows steadily. His body begins reacting without him thinking, he reaches up and grabs the base of the large shaft, tugging at it gently until he hears a low moan, eyes meeting his own with an expectant look. He pumps the Lieutenant's cock a few times, his cheeks burning as he tries to fit more in. Harper smirks as he takes a step back and pulls himself out a bit, the recruit gasping when the older man places the head of his dick at the bottom of the boy's lips, letting his precome lubricate the corner of his mouth as he slowly guides himself into [N]'s waiting lips again. It takes a moment before he pushes inside, the recruit choking slightly but continuing to accept the man's cock, allowing a new, rough rhythm to emerge from his sucking.

[N] is quickly pushed past the point of comfort. His head tilts back as Harper's large member slides further down his mouth, his throat muscles working in concert to keep the entire length within them. When Harper's hips finally start to move, [N] feels as though they're about to break his neck, the head of the man’s cock making repeated contact with the back of his throat. He knows better than to cry out, tears already beginning to form in his eyes. The only noise he can make is the muffled grunts and moans that come from deep in his chest. The ever-present cold in the room pickles their skin, traveling past the fabric of their clothing. Harper bites his lip, enjoying the way the recruit's head bobs up and down, his cheeks hollowing with each thrust, swallowing every inch of cock that he can fit into his mouth. His speed becomes almost inhuman, a soft whine leaving [N] as the tip of the Lieutenant's cock abuses the back of his throat, sending waves of pain through his body and causing a small amount of blood to trickle down the back of his throat. His cheeks are damp with tears, snot, and drool mingling together as he tries his best to breathe evenly through his nose—he swears he sees stars.

He bobs back and forth, swallowing Harper's entire shaft. With his eyes glazed over, [N] can do nothing but appreciate the feeling of new bruises forming on the back of his neck and back of his throat, his uvula numb to the Lieutenant's thrusting. Though a part of his brain screams for some type of release, he can’t find the strength to do anything but kneel pliantly.

For a beautiful moment, he forgets he's anything but Lieutenant Harper's fleshlight. He forgets who he is, or what he has been conditioned to do for the camp, his head empty as his body is used. His focus is on pleasing his Captain, on doing everything in his power to ensure the man comes. It doesn't matter how many times the =man forces him to gag or push his cock down his esophagus, he takes it all without complaint.

The Lieutenant’s thrusts were never smooth, but by now they’ve become bruisingly rough, and [N] knows he's about to cum. His hips inch as close as they can to the man’s boot, his head slams downward into his groin, taking the cock deeper with each passing moment. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the tip hit the back of his throat, followed quickly by a loud moan.

He gags again, trying his best to ignore it, his nose filling up with warm liquid as the Lieutenant keeps pumping, milking him dry until the first shot hits his tongue and the next lands on the roof of his mouth. He tries not to think about it too much, his focus being on continuing to take everything he can. He swallows down the hot load as it spurts out of Lieutenant Harper’s dick, coating the back of his throat. It was salty and sour, something he couldn't help but taste. The sensation of his Captain filling him up with cum sends a shiver down his spine and his dick pulses painfully between his legs.

"That's it, pretty boy," His commander whispers, "swallow your Captain's seed."

[N]'s eyes flick upwards briefly, meeting the man's dark ones and seeing only lust and dominance behind them. He returns his attention to the task at hand, swallowing another large load of Harper's semen, and then sucking it off his shaft clean. Harper watches him intently, letting go of his hair so he can run a hand over [N]'s face, tracing his lips with the back of his knuckles. His fingertips are gentle, almost affectionate.

"Good boy," He murmurs, stroking his cheek tenderly. "I'll give you a treat later, don't worry."

The recruit nodes in response, suckling at the man’s tip.

His hand shakily reached for the Lieutenant's table, pushing himself to his feet and standing up from his knees. The room spins for a second, and the corners of his vision darken. Before he can trip over, Harper's strong arm catches him by the waist, supporting him. A hand rests gently on the small of his back, a warm breath against his neck as the older man continues to hold him close.

"Easy there," He murmurs, low voice reverberating through the recruit. "Can’t have you falling around like that."

[N] buries his head into the man's neck, burying his nose between his skin and the collar of his shirt. He breathes in deeply, smelling the faint hint of musk that still lingers within it. His cheeks are damp with sweat, eyes watering from his rough treatment.

"You alright?"

He nods slightly in response, not trusting his voice. The man gives a curt hum as he runs a hand down his cheek.

"Good boy," He whispers, letting go of him and patting him on the ass. "Now go clean yourself up, you look like shit."

[commander-malla]

Era 2 Introduction 1\3

Antius Burntfang, the quietest of the "Era 2" Fang warband, the voice of reason for the 'band when Ryza's is otherwise unavailable. Born around 1320 AE, he was placed into a Blood Legion fahrar once of age, however that became short-lived once his elementalist powers awakened and his former bandmates began to outcast him. His sire pulled him and whisked him away to Lion's Arch, where he was placed into a rather "unconventional" fahrar run by former Ash Legion Hattie Hornquake.

Once older, and ties with Flame Legion stronger under the United Legions, he joined his bandmate Eona Scorchfang to tutor under their Shamans, honing the more fiery aspects of their abilities.

[commanderhorncleaver]

Umbra regards Gaius quietly for a few moments, tail held low, before she pulls herself up in a salute. "Sir. I was... curious. In the case that one becomes a gladium as the result of their legionnaire selling them out... and they have the option to kill their legionnaire for their treachery. What is your thought on that charr? How do you see them?"

@ratasum

Horncleaver peers at the approaching charr curiously for a moment before he nods, digging around in his desk. After a moment he chuffs in satisfaction, and pulls out a worn handbook.

"By laws, any charr has the right to challenge a superior, no matter their grievances," Horncleaver says in his deep voice as he flips through the pages. "A charr can believe it to be a personal offense, gross misconduct on account of their superior, or--" he points at a line of print, "--they can merely believe themselves better suited for the job."

He sighs. "But I'm certain you know that. I have to be honest with you, erm, Gladium Smokeshot, was it? It isn't my business how a charr chooses to cope, gladium or not. What is my business is how this charr got to that point, and at this point, to learn if this charr is coping with their decisions."

[kamitakes]

i can't even begin to tell you guys how proud jūshirō is / would be to find out that rukia became the captain of their division. he'd be so damn proud to see how much she's grown in the time he's known her! she rightfully deserves a promotion for how hard she's worked! 🥺

[hirazuki]

In a classic move -- after specifically fashioning my First Age Mairon design to match the outfit I’ll be cosplaying him in -- I have decided... to cosplay him in something completely different. After I have already drawn him 4389 times in these clothes.

Typical XD

[sunshine-sunni]

You who's studying abroad in the UK where you have a one night stand with Ghost at a bar; it's a special night for the soldiers and he gets lucky after making you laugh by telling a shitty joke thanks to the liquid confidence in you. You ask his name, and he tells you there's no need — that you'd forget by the end of the night.

Taking you back home, there was no time wasted. The man practically has you seeing stars. He pumps you full of cum, whispers absolute filth in your ears and leaves bruises on your thighs by the time it's all over. He at least cleans you up, gives you proper aftercare before disappearing while your still fucked out of your mind.

Anyways, a great night. perfect 10/10, you have a story to tell your girls. So, your life continues on track as normal, right?

Wrong!

You dream of him. You have countless dreams of him. They were graphic reenactments of that night. His stubble rubbing against your cheek, his lust-filled eyes burning into yours even in the darkness. And oh, his voice - deep and confident - the very reason why you were drawn to him in the first place.

He creeps into your dreams every single night without fail, so much so that it frustrates you. surely not because you were soaking wet afterwards, no, no, it was only because he was so annoying! Surely it wasn't because you’d end up pumping your fingers in and out your soaked cunt for hours in hopes of recreating that mindblowing orgasm he'd given you only to fail each time.

After your 10th failed attempt to cum, you crack asking the friend who took you out to the bar in the first place if she knew who the soldier was and she claims her boyfriend does. You've met Kyle before, he's a handsome man with dreamy eyes and a gentleman's demeanor.

Kyle tells you he'd pass the word back to his lieutenant, but he's a busy man who doesn't stay in one place. There's no guarantee he'd even respond.

Lucky you, screwing a lieutenant who probably doesn't remember who you are or won't have the time to find out.

The waiting game painfully starts all while the dreams continue. Each torturous night leaves you more and more agitated than before. By the 4th night, you already embraced the restlessness sure to come when the vibration of your phone changes everything.

Directly on the home screen was a text from an unknown number. There was no name, but you had a feeling who it was based on the message.

“Keep the front door unlocked for me.”

A/N I wrote this during hurricane francine when my power went out, I think she gave me superpowers. Idk I'll start flying tmr!!

P2 here

[chiropteracupola]

salutations. would you like to explain the deal wktb the moth and compass guys they look very polite

moth and compass! the project I've been working on with @natdrinkstea this year-and-some!!

I believe I've introduced our dramatis personae — Moth, an Inquisitive Young Protagonist; Goodfellow, a Ghost; Luna, a Lighthouse-Keeper; and Peregrine, an Ordinary Cat — a few times before, but I still don't think we've every really talked about the story!

and that is because it has taken. quite some time to actually figure out what Goeth On in moth and compass proper. it's a mystery-fantasy, that'll probably be best told as a scrapbook or a puzzle game or a thing along those lines*, and a somewhat purposefully-nostalgic ghost story. it's everyday magic and the haunted sea and learning to look beyond what you think is there and bubblegum pop road trips and creepy creatures in the shadows and the kind of navigational equipment that, if you use it just right, might take you places you'd never otherwise be able to see...

[koling2345]

Just Simon with a cute new recruit. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Lieutenant! Simon who: Thought you'd be just another recruit, until he saw that you were such a cute little bird. So obedient and pliable, always listening to what he had to say without refuting it.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Never even looked at any recruit in a different way until you arrived on base. The way you looked at him with sweet little eyes and called him 'Sir' was almost a symphony in his ears.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Loved it when you asked him for help with something on the base, sometimes purposely disappearing with things, only to see you coming after him to find out where that item was.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Made a point of training you, he never let any other superior do it. Not even Johnny. Simon wanted to be solely responsible for your success, or rather, he wanted to be solely responsible for giving you orders. And watching you obey them.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Started glaring daggers at any other soldier who looked at you. Not only that, but any soldier who even spoke to you or flirted with you was magically given a month's worth of hard duties. What a shame ;(

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was in charge of you at the gym, giving you several repetitions of exercises, never passing up an opportunity to put you in some positions that were a bit... Lewd, to say at least. Always keeping a close eye on every exercise you did, his eyes roaming over your body as you knelt down to stand up when you finished a set. The sight always made his pants a little tight.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Always gave you heavy workouts, tiring you to the limit. Just to make sure you'd get tired enough, then he'd have the excuse of helping you to get your bearings. Putting a hand on your lower back. Sometimes even being bold enough to put his hand on your waist, pulling your body against his in an attempt to help you. And if you were really, really tired, he could carry you on his shoulders. No, it wasn't an excuse to stare at your ass and thighs, feeling your body pressed against his. He swore it was just his good intention, he just wanted to help!

Lieutenant! Simon who: Would let you sleep in his room, there was a storm and the base was without power, you didn't want to be alone because you were scared. And he wouldn't let you be alone after learning that you were afraid of thunder, poor thing. That night he wrapped you up in his sheets, pulling you into his lap as he comforted you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Helped you forget the fierce storm outside, pumping his thick fingers into your pussy, slipping in and out of you, scissoring and curving inside you. He made you come once, twice, three times, enough to make you tired and sleep on his lap, in the mess you made on his thighs, and he didn't care. In fact, he was proud to see the mess you'd made, that he'd given you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: After spending one night with you, he refused to sleep in separate rooms, so every night he dragged you to his room, at which point he already considered you his cute little thing. Normally, he would hold you all night with a death grip, so don't even try to escape.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Couldn't sleep peacefully until he'd buried his cock in you. Sleep only came to him after he had slid his thick cock into your wet folds, deep into your tight warmth. Slamming into you without mercy, he swears that his lullaby is your whimpering sounds under him.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was mean to you, used you until he had his fill. It didn't matter if you'd already come for the thousandth time, he didn't care, because he went after his own pleasure, he would pound into you all night if he wanted to.Even if you were whimpering underneath him and saying you couldn't take it anymore, he'd respond with:

“You can and you will.”

[consultingskeletondetective]

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits. 

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome. 

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you. 

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile. 

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled. 

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian. 

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule. 

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated. 

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be. 

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you. 

“Help yourself, ma’am.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.” 

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot. 

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men. 

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand. 

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury. 

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question. 

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base. 

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him. 

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him. 

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.” 

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office. 

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.  

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt. 

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso. 

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage. 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did. 

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary. 

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something . 

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling. 

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face. 

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.” 

“It’s not your problem.” 

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.” 

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life. 

“What message?” König asked suddenly. 

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh. 

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant. 

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked. 

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond. 

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care. 

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury. 

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit. 

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk. 

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw. 

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private. 

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded. 

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer. 

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?” 

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared. 

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you. 

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming. 

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else. 

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before. 

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly. 

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand. 

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently. 

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs. 

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you. 

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls. 

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks. 

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”